AIDAN TURNER as Callum Ellis The Diplomat, Birdwatchers (3.05)
Jules of Nature
Cosmic Funnies
Sade Olutola
i don't do bad sauce passes

Origami Around
$LAYYYTER
Sweet Seals For You, Always

JBB: An Artblog!
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
noise dept.
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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YOU ARE THE REASON
AnasAbdin
Peter Solarz

Product Placement
trying on a metaphor
Show & Tell
hello vonnie

★

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@damonrutherford
AIDAN TURNER as Callum Ellis The Diplomat, Birdwatchers (3.05)
Fight club: After 1st fight.
"Mon dieu," Delphine muttered under her breath, talking to no one in particular "This is just as entertaining as watching paint dry," she reached for her clutch to take out her cigarettes, shaking one out of the pack and putting it between her lips.
"The next one better actually have at least some finesse or I'm going to have to be much more fucked up to get through the evening." And she'd planned on being very fucked up to deal with present company.
Ah, tent buddy. Just as delightful as he remembered from their shared accommodations in the fall. Regardless of his family's position as her mortal enemy or whatever mobster politics dictated this week, Damon breezed along tonight unbothered. Sidled right up alongside her and and everything, taking the occasional sip from his drink with pure nonchalance until she elaborated with disdain.
"Speak for yourself." Hardly a secret that he enjoyed the first spectacle and openly requested for all of the subsequent fights follow the same rhythm. It would only grow bloodier from here, but a man had dreams. "Are you planning to join the ring? Or is this an opportunity to dish out complaints from on high?"
@mobscene-starters Event: Fight Club April 4, 2025
One drink in and the atmosphere was starting to feel lighter. Marginally, at least. Yvonne still sat at a table deep within the Rutherford section with Óscar sitting no farther than a hare's breath away. But, at least her heart wasn't threatening to beat straight out of her chest.
The drink in her hand was fruity, strong, and almost empty. She glanced down at it and looked back up as someone approached her table. "You know, I think I need another one of these....whatever it is. As loathe as I am to compliment Lara on anything, but her bartenders definitely know their stuff."
"You need two actually. One for now and one to catch up with me." The brutality of Fight Club didn't lure him in as it did for others, considering he genuinely loathed so few people. But he enjoyed the art of gambling, drinking in excess, and occasionally pestering his sisters, which earned a rare attendance from him within the criminal underbelly. "We should have the girls fight every year. This is spectacular."
FOR: OPEN TO ALL. TAGS: @mobscene-starters WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Mayfair, office. Meeting.
Melissa lay the files out one by one. Today, she had no helpers. This she would do alone. This meeting wasn't for the ears of the common man, and everything had to be perfect. So she did what she'd always done best — became a perfectionist. It was in that she bared the resemblance of her mother.
Although Melissa Lin remained involved in the life she'd been gifted—the killing, outright, unforgiving murder—she wasn't completely desensitized to that part. And while she'd killed someone last year...it still sat there, in her sternum. A reminder of the brutality they all had inside of them.
It was a festering pit, eternally there. Melissa was immune to most things. Empathy rarity to be found within her, but this was a new. Something she hadn't quite felt before. Once that shot had left her gun — all politics and civility had flown out the window. All she'd seen was the clear, distinctive need to protect.
Maybe her only motherly instinct she'd ever brandished so willingly, openly.
These thoughts were keeping her awake, but her appearance didn't tell that story.
the door opened, Melissa's hand outstretched with a file. She paused, hovering over an open spot on the table.
"You're early."
To state it plainly, Damon was never early. He barely managed to arrive on time for most of his engagements and any partners or vendors were often charmed enough to hardly notice. Winning smile, gregarious disposition, they took a person far in life when wielded correctly. The copious financial backing never hurt either.
He'd made specific time for Melissa, though. Not because he outright valued their encounters, seldom as they purposely were on both parts, but because he found it intriguing that she even requested one with him. Some ploy to patch things up with Gideon no doubt. Her favourite.
"Should I walk out and come in again? Let you set yourself up to look like you were expecting me? There's a chair, just over there... Spins flawlessly if you really wanted to sell it." His fingers drummed along the handle for a moment and then he allowed the bit to die off, potentially the only person who found him amusing in this room. Closing the door behind himself, he wasted little more time and circled the long conference table before eventually taking an unceremonious seat at its head. "I'm surprised you called."
"I do tend to date psychos, you know. I needed to learn a good grip or I would have been fucked." She grinned, shooting him a wink at the same time. It was good to finally see him, face to face and not just on face time, in the most random hours of the night. "Come on, Demon. I thought the charity was for the children, you've hit puberty long time ago." Though she knew exactly what he meant.
Taking his hand, Adriana started pulling them towards the bar, shooing the people waiting in the queue. No, she didn't have time for that, and besides, the bartender, James, was wrapped around her little finger. "Consider this my donation." She said, pointing at James.
"James, this is my dashing, charismatic, peculiar, and actually fun older brother. When you look at him - you see me, okay? So when he hovers here like a lost puppy, just give him what he wants." She didn't want Damon missing out the fun. Especially when a lot of the times, like her, he was bringing all the fun. "My other brother, the one that looks like he's in pain?" She pointed in the direction where she last saw Gideon. "He's got his own." With that done, Adri turned back to Damon. "Happy. Aren't I just the best thing that has ever happened to you? What would you actually do without me?"
"It's good we can joke about our questionable tastes. No one else finds us funny." Not that any of the Rutherford children were known for their wise choices in partners, but Damon's one night stand history was rife with unstable bedmates and Adriana's came perilously close. "Age is just a number, I'm a child at heart, et cetera." He playfully dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
Count on Adri to indulge in a little chaos, they'd always been well matched in that realm. Terribly inconvenient for their siblings and anyone who sought to negate the pair's hedonism, or at least keep it from growing in close proximity. When Damon indicated he preferred whatever his sister ordered previously, the bartender obeyed her without a second thought. Clearly to spare himself from her wrath. Wise. "Good man, James. Much appreciated." Scooping up his own glass, he smiled with little hidden adoration when she asked what he'd do without her. "Live longer probably," the drink rose in mock cheers, "Bottoms up."
"Even you can't get all your exercise in the bedroom, yea?..." He shoves two large poles into his brother's arms and nudges him towards the far end of what's going to be the tent. "... Blown me off one too many times at the gym."
Damon asks whether he'll tell dad and Gideon answers back without missing a beat.
"What's that?? Sorry, can't hear you over my obnoxious wealth and privilege. I'm the goddamn king, or something. Gotta be careful how you talk to me." He huffs, before adding, "... Peasant." For good measure. A shame the smile on his lips distorts the intonation with it, betraying his amusement.
Truth be told, Gideon's happy to be spending the weekend with his brother, even if his circumstances have taken a turn for the worse since learning who'll be sleeping in his tent. Although the banter is effortless, there's more truth to the droll sarcasm that runs between them than either needs to acknowledge aloud. They'd met dirt poor. Stuck in an orphanage, with nothing to their name. Back then, they'd only had each other.
The way their lives have panned out since, is sometimes so far-fetched that at times, Gideon himself can scarcely believe it.
"There is cardio everywhere for those with the eyes to see." His voice sing-songs in mocking response from somewhere beyond the plastic monstrosity that will be his and Delphine's sleeping quarters. Others in the general "poor" vicinity were carping over their lackluster accommodations, but truthfully he'd had slept in far worse conditions. "Hang on now, I'm there for weights."
One pole slips through the fabric for Gideon to catch at the opposing end. At his brother's equally taunting reply, Damon laughs to himself before calling out with a smirk. "I'd sooner take the guillotine over listening to that. There's plenty of French here, think we should ask?" Not in a million years. "I should've known this would happen, money changes a man."
Dribbles of truth to that. Whilst they'd been adopted into immense wealth and power, so much of Damon still lived in the scarcity mindset of his youth. Over thirty years removed from the harrowing straits of his earliest memories and then the orphanage with Gideon, but he'd never actually left it. Not completely.
So this moment, stringing up a mediocre shelter with the sole person who understood how badly he would've killed for even a fraction of one back then, it hit a little differently.
FOR: @damonrutherford EVENT: The Camp Out. WHERE: Close to the firepit, but far enough away from people.
"If you've come to warn me about hurting your brother, too, you don't have to bother." A hiccup broke free from her lips, as she turned her head towards Damon, and offered a weak smile that bordered on...confused. Amélie didn't know how to act with the things she knew...didn't know how to feel. She didn't wait, taking another swig. It was some part of self-pity, the other was gut-wrenching guilt.
For being here, around these people. And doing nothing about it.
"Uh, no." Not that Damon wouldn't go to absolute bat for Gideon every day that ended in Y, or that he wouldn't become his least pleasant self if his brother was under actual duress, but this girl's demeanor hardly screamed Katherine levels of narcissism. And really, from what he could tell, there'd been no winners in this split. "Suffice to say he's hurt enough. Which isn't your fault so much as the... situation." He twisted his commandeered liquor once over, confident that a broomstick would be more comforting than his presence right now. "You know, they say two bottles are better than one. Mind if I sit?"
"Because it's funny. And it's my job as your youngest sister to annoy the shit out of you. I don't make the rules, I just follow them." Yvonne shrugged. "Good job. You brought the basic necessities. You're already doing better than Catalina is." She rolled her eyes before sitting down on a nearby stump. "Think you can teach my three year old that coats are necessary while you're at it?"
"I think Adri has you beat in the annoy the shit out of me category, sorry to say." Though truthfully he dished it right back in equal measure so the scales were more than even between the lot of them. At the mention of Catalina, he chuckled. "God, I love her to death, but no shoes?" Dark curls shook slightly. "In no world is it safe to hedge my bets against a three year old. So no, I'll take survival over receiving the most accurate yet cutting insult from your former baby."
@damonrutherford Location: The firepit. Date: Friday Night.
Of all the communal areas, Nora had decided that the firepit was her favourite. The blonde had positioned herself on the chair next to his, knees pulled up to her chest, wrapped in the fluffiest blanket she could fit into her bag. Taking a sip of her wine, she turned to Damon with her eyebrow raised mischievously.
"Well, you didn't do too badly for yourself. She's cute...in a looks like she might bully you afterward until you cry kind of way."
"Unfortunately that's my favorite type." If one ignored the fact that she was a major leader in the French organization and thus more likely to throttle him in his sleep than all else, he might've tried his luck. All else being equal, Damon rather enjoyed living.
Squinting into the contents of his own wine glass, he volleyed the topic right back. "You got the Russian didn't you? Godspeed." The idea of her being alone with any one of them left an exceptionally bitter taste in his mouth, which he masked with a swig and glance beyond the pit in front of them. "Where's Spencer? I want a shirt." She knew precisely which one. "Unlike Cassie, Gid can't outwrestle me. Haven't lost a brawl to him since primary school and he's old now, practically decrepit."
"Damon!" Catty exclaimed. "Why do I feel like I haven't seen your beautiful face in forever?!" She asked, skipping over the whole making fun of her bit.
"Well...if you know someone that brought extra shoes, send them my way. I've got drugs...so...maybe that'll help." And then she chuckled. "Also...I don't know when I'll get over the fact that you Brits call your tennis shoes 'trainers'. It's so cute"
"Open a tabloid sometime. Should take the edge off." Not to say that Damon relished in having his exploits constantly speculated upon, but his reputation in print had always been exceedingly kinder than poor Gideon's.
A smile of pure, unadulterated amusement spread across his lips. "You're going to trade perfectly good blow for a pair of shoes? Selling yourself short there, but I s'pose a gal's gotta do what she's gotta do." Self-imposed hard times and all. "Maybe you'll get lucky and find a bleeding heart hiding amongst all the polyester."
@damonrutherford
"I saw you sweet talked Gideon into putting your tent up for you. Cheater." Yvonne threw a handful of leaves at Damon, though with a smile plastered on her lips. Shit, maybe Félix was right about this weekend being good for her. "I have to say, the only person I struggle more to picture in the woods is Lara."
"Why is that what everyone chooses to focus on? Isn't my being here for the children the most important thing? Presence is a present and all." Immediately Damon feigned a dodge when the few leaves came hurtling gently in his direction. At least they weren't sticks. The middle sibling pivoted to face his sister head on with both arms extended outward. "Do I not strike you as the pinnacle of an outdoorsman? I bought a coat and everything."
@mobscene-starters
"Fucking....shiiiit..." Catalina drawled as she walked through the campsite, the spike of her heels sinking into the ground with every step she took. She'd grown up extremely privledged and neither of her parents were ever keen on the outdoors unless it was on a yacht somwhere with a full staff.
Still, it was a Rutherford event and she considered herself an honorary part of the family having grown up with Lara and Adriana. So...here she was. She would plaster a smile on her face, snort some coke, and everything would be copacetic.
Even in a luxury tent, she was out of her element. The outdoors wasn't really her thing. She'd much rather have been in her bathtub, soaking in a hot bath and not having to deal with people she didn't want to fuck with. Her tent mate included.
"I would change shoes...but I didn't bring flats. I don't even think I own a pair. And that's saying something because my closet is huge."
Even while attempting to stifle his laughter, Damon glanced repeatedly between the expression on his friend's face and her ill-equipped footwear. He understood being out of touch with the masses in this regard, even Lara showed up in the carcass of Paddington Bear, but at least most of them considered shoes...
"Not even trainers? Heavens, Cat." A chuckle of genuine amusement sat just behind his teeth. "Guess you'll have to barter with someone."
@mobscene-starters Location: The Bar. Time: Friday Night.
Well. It could have been worse, she supposed. Maybe. Could've been a Russian...
Wrapped in the furs she'd spent about fifteen minutes trying to convince the charity organisers were fake—as if she'd ever wear something as tacky as faux fur—she settled herself into the seat she didn't plan on moving from until Samar was passed the fuck out, and couldn't attempt a conversation with her. If she had to sleep in a fucking synthetic prison, it seemed unfair to expect her to punish herself further. It'd be such a pity to murder her best friend's cousin on the first night, too.
Lara lit up her cigarette, regarding the tray of champagne meant for sharing that she'd absolutely stolen to serve as her own personal platter.
"I don't care about how much you hate your tent partner. If that's what you came here to complain about, then do us both a favour and disappear."
At long last.
A modicum of relief spread through him to finally be able to sit with her in person rather than exchanging a litany of texts throughout the day. How long had it been since they last found a quiet corner together?
Exhaling his own smoke into the wind blowing opposite them, Damon slid unceremoniously into the adjacent seat. "I came here to steal from you actually," dark eyes narrowed in on the champagne haul she so thoughtfully hoarded to herself. "So kind of you to find enough to share. We never could've afforded it otherwise."
@damonrutherford
"Ah, there you are." Adriana wrapped her arms around Damon fast enough so he couldn't have the time to jump away. "One of unfortunate brothers, but also a poor one at that. How are you taking the fact that me and Gid got the better end of the stick?" She paused for a second. "To be fair, I probably got it even better, but we always knew I was amazing."
"Christ above, has anyone told you that you've got a vice grip?" All the same, Damon twisted her around so they could face one another in a playful embrace. He'd missed their banter immensely. "You're being horrendously uncharitable right now, Adri." As if he needed the reminder about his unfortunate sleeping arrangements. "In fact, I think you owe me a donation. Make the check out to Your Dashing, Charismatic, Actually Fun Older Brother. Be explicit, we can't have them confusing which one you mean."
LOCATION — The Rutherford Estate, Kingston Upon Thames. DATE — October 25, 2024. STARTER — closed for @damonrutherford
Hefting aside a piece of equipment with an audible grunt, the surgeon turns to see how his younger brother's getting on. "Remind me again why I'm helping you set up your shitty arse tent... Isn't that against the rules or something?"
"Because you love me." He's practically beaming at the sight of Gideon hoisting things around in his true lumberjack spirit. Born for it, really. Such a goddamn pity that he went into medicine, they could've had a cabin in Norway by now. "Against the rules, he says. Are you planning to run inside and tell Dad? Go ahead, I'll wait right here."
@damonrutherford
Damon Rutherford spotted by the paparazzi on his way to the 2024 Charity Camp Out at his family's estate.