midasinverse

[midasinverse]

the test dream, the sopranos

#so unhinged of them <3 #i genuinely do not care about any of tony's goomars besides Her. #(i may be on the telltale moozadell rn) #amour fou.

[midasinverse]

i thought of myself as a city and licked my lips. i thought of myself as a nation and i wrung my hands, i put a thing in your hand. will you defend yourself? from me, i mean.

@MIDASINVESE - an independent character study of tony soprano from hbo's the sopranos, written by lou (25+, he/him)

#the sopranos rp #killing eve rp #hannibal rp #crime rp #dexter rp #unsure of what to tag this but hello yes this is a remake. #caption + quote credit to richard siken!

[midasinverse]

THE SOPRANOS| 6x02 “Join the Club” / 6x11 “Cold Stones”

#you're not just in my life; you are my life. #they are always in such symmetry w each other it makes me want to ***

[midasinverse]

"you wanna talk about respect?"

he baulks at the term, like she's said something in a tongue not known to any man. in all actuality, tony doesn't know what to say. he's seeing fucking red. and he hates that he knows it's because of how hurt he is. melfi had said it - carmela would leave him, but he'd never leave her. he's cheated, he's lied, he's hurt her again and again - and yet, a life without carmela in it seems incredulous.

confronting why he does the self-sabotaging shit he does would entail some self-work he doesn't think he's ready for. it'd require thinking about the guilt-induced panic attacks, the fact that the gaggle of girls he's taken in bed have been part of a self-induced perdition caused by the lifestyle he'd been born into. it's in the blood.

too much. melfi doesn't even get half of that, for fuck's sake.

he exhales through flared nostrils, knuckles gripping the edge of the counter so hard they're white. he avoids the urge to storm out of the house, to give carmela exactly what she wants. he cannot take another person leaving him. not carmela.

"i know you're livid with me, carmela," he says, finally, voice restrained. have they had a calm discussion about this shit? nothing in him wants to, but he feels desperation bubbling up within him. the vulnerability puts a rotten taste in his mouth, as if a decayed tooth had been drilled into. "but we've got a goddamn family. we've been together for twenty-five years. you really wanna throw that all away? i've been out of the house for seven fuckin' months - i -."

there it is, the word vomit. quickly, he asks, mostly genuinely, "what do you want from me, carm? what can i do?"

@midasinverse

carmela does not flinch when the watch cracks against the refrigerator and rains down in pieces on the kitchen floor. it's nothing for tony to shout, to throw things, she'd long ago become accustomed to the sound of broken things -- plates, promises. whatever he felt like destroying in any given moment. she does take a step backward this time, though, removes herself from his reach without thinking. "yes, it is a fucking problem." she glances down, eyeing the bits of metal and glass, gearwork scattered on the tile between them, an inhale sticking uncomfortably in her chest when she draws it in sharply, and then looks back to him.

"i don't want your gifts. i don't want you here. i don't want you waltzing in whenever you feel like -- eating whatever you feel like, doing whatever you feel like." she badly wants to reach for the high ground, to claim some position above him, to keep her voice even and her face clean of emotion or reproach, but it doesn't work. it never has. her voice climbs slightly in pitch, sounding stretched with the effort of keeping herself from yelling outright.

"if you had any respect for me, you would understand that."

#soprela #soprela / 01. #anthony is so.... stupid..... #but we're getting somewhere it IS pulling teeth genuinely

[midasinverse]

@biofunctions

tony doesn't think he's ever been inside chris and adriana's apartment outside of christopher's intervention. it's bigger, without the gaggle of people present that day, but still cramped quarters. tony soprano doesn't go over anyone's house - they come to his domain. but he's breaking the rules today, apparently adriana's gone somewhere, out with friends or something - just the two of them. whatever college football game is on is blasted on the television when christopher opens the door.

when tony steps inside, he holds up the bottle in his hand - a non-alcoholic bottle of rum.

"saw this shit and thought of you - never seen anything like it before," is his excuse for showing up tonight. what he won't say is that he'd gone out of his way to find it for him. in his other hand is a bag with chinese food - it's been a long time since they've eaten together, and yet tony remembers christopher's order from when he was still a kid laid out on johnny boy soprano's living room floor.

"carm's still exiling me from the house so i thought i'd stop by, see if you're busy."

#biofunctions #biofunctions / 01. #biofunctions / christopher. #SOMEWHERE post-s4... adriana does not die because she's still alive it's canon

[midasinverse]

@soprela

tony's smiling, yeah, but his eyes aren't in it. it's all for show - he has to have the upper hand here, because he can't lose. neither of them come away a winner or a loser when they get into it like this, but she's already seen him vulnerable enough as it is. it's not like he's about to lie down belly up. fuck that.

he takes another bite of the apple, comically large. it gives his hands something to do, his mouth too.

"i've only been married to you for twenty years, carm," it's intentionally present-tense. he sets the apple down, standing up to take the watch in hand. it's worthless to him, but it's always been an effective olive branch between them. not anymore.

what is he without the shit he can provide?

the words make his own mouth twist. in turn, he throws the rolex against the fridge hard. pieces of it land loud on the floor, chunky metal hitting the tiled floor of the kitchen. pointedly, he refuses to answer her question.

"now, i can't buy something nice for my wife? and i can't sit in my own fuckin' house?"

i miss you. those words are too hard for tony to mutter. poison's easier.

"you like rolexes, i thought i'd get you one. i thought of you when i saw it. is that such a fuckin' problem? it never was before, you know."

@soprela / cont'd.

the sound of his full name tenses his jaw, nose furling - as if he hadn't been asking for it, with his own brashness. she says his name the same way she says their son's when she's correcting him.

melfi's always told him anger is a secondary emotional response, that there's always something beneath it, and yeah, maybe he's self-aware enough to know that seeing carmela in this house and that he's not living with her in it cuts him deep. what makes it worse is that she hates him. all the people in his life that who have fucked him over - his mother, pussy, and now christopher - he's sure he's ruined it all with carmela, has pushed enough that he's broken the band of her tolerance of him.

"i'm not the one with a puss on," tony says to that same effect, seating himself on one of the kitchen stools. "you've had that look on your face since i walked in the door. i know you better than anyone, carm."

it's a pointed echo of her own words to him. he doesn't forget, they both know that. he reaches for an apple, bites into it, and asks with his mouth full, "you got something you wanna say to me?"

#soprela #soprela / 01. #OOP -

[midasinverse]

the way tony whips his huge ass escalade like a prius

#the power of a manic episode fr #def from one of my fave episodes... the sheer JOY on his face when he knows phil is abt to get seriously bodily injured <3 #out.

[midasinverse]

tony doesn't come to the club for scintillating conversation. the tits in his face are nice, yeah, but it's all background noise; by now, he can't stand the men he surrounds himself with. they're good for making him feel good, sure, but try to have a fucking substantial conversation with any of them and they seem to fold not that tony needs to talk to anyone-more comfortable like this, anyway, considering his track history and all.

yesenia seems different than the other girls. or maybe it's because he's not drunk yet, or because he hasn't snorted a line or two of coke in the back office. he's pointedly sober.

he shoots her a look, cigar between his fingers on the side away from her. a smile forms at the corner of his mouth.

" - fat old pricks like me must be a dime a dozen in this place," tony says, not confirming or denying the observation. "you see a lot, though. shit, maybe i'm the pot calling the kettle black, or whatever. sometimes it's better not to fight. life's a maze," a very, very paraphrased ism from melfi, but maybe it's insightful to her ears.

"what's your name, sweetheart?" he crushes the cigar against the asphalt beside him, offers his hand. "i'm tony." / @883333

@883333 said: "don't you think it's weird, how quickly we get used to things?" ↳ transcendent kingdom. / accepting.

the statement stings in the weirdest way. he, of all people in the world, understands complacency. he lives in it - fuck, he marinates in it. years of therapy have given him a semblance of self-awareness to understand that about himself, but he feels stagnant, like his arc has been a straight line. nothing.

the cigar hanging out of his mouth is supposed to be honey-flavored. it tasted like shit before, and somehow, tastes even worse now. he finds himself glancing at yesenia for a beat too long, brow furrowed. long enough that ash spills on his favorite jacket, and he coughs out a puff of smoke, as away from yesenia's face as he can muster in his effort to breathe.

"goddamnit," tony mutters softly, dusting ash off himself.

he holds the cigar between his fingers now, glancing at the oil spill down by their feet and back at yesenia once again.

"think it's part of the human condition, or whatever the fuck," is a vague attempt at providing some sort of substantial response, "but - getting used to shit doesn't mean we gotta get comfortable in it."

#read him yesenia #so true as well... tony's un is either smth like 'oldblueeyes1959' with his ducks as his pfp or 'user43294294' with no pfp who watches #insta lives obsessively... #early 2000s is fun but so is instagram metas #88333 #88333 / 01.

[midasinverse]

#you're not just in my life; you are my life. #me at every single one of their fights: top 10 fave tonycarmela fight moments

[midasinverse]

@soprela / cont'd.

the sound of his full name tenses his jaw, nose furling - as if he hadn't been asking for it, with his own brashness. she says his name the same way she says their son's when she's correcting him.

melfi's always told him anger is a secondary emotional response, that there's always something beneath it, and yeah, maybe he's self-aware enough to know that seeing carmela in this house and that he's not living with her in it cuts him deep. what makes it worse is that she hates him. all the people in his life that who have fucked him over - his mother, pussy, and now christopher - he's sure he's ruined it all with carmela, has pushed enough that he's broken the band of her tolerance of him.

"i'm not the one with a puss on," tony says to that same effect, seating himself on one of the kitchen stools. "you've had that look on your face since i walked in the door. i know you better than anyone, carm."

it's a pointed echo of her own words to him. he doesn't forget, they both know that. he reaches for an apple, bites into it, and asks with his mouth full, "you got something you wanna say to me?"

#tony coming in HOT with the instigation AND delusion... a combo deal! #soprela #soprela / 01.

[midasinverse]

tony's a lot of things, sure. but he's not stupid, or unaware of himself (at least, not now, anyway) - he can hunker down, pretend to be smaller than he is. his own mother made that sensation a second skin. but he's not. and to a woman walking alone at night? he's not stupid. it's why he keeps his distance.

stupid fucking bum knee ---- he can't hide the way he ambles toward her either, slow steps. easy now. he feels like he's ready to topple over any minute, like a house with a rotted out foundation.

"easy, hun. i got a favor to ask you, alright?"

he stops, form outlined by the headlights of his car. he holds the gun in hand, wrapped in the rags he'd managed to salvage from the club and undecipherable from a bunch of rags. a stupid goddamn mistake on his part, but he can't be seen with the murder weapon of a missing made guy. inside the bundle is the four carat ruby thumb ring of said made guy, too; a convenient little payment.

he calls out to her, sets the package down by his feet, "i know what this looks like. i've seen you around the club - i'm tony. don't think i've introduced myself, and don't think i've got your name. listen - you do this, and i'll owe you. and when i owe a favor, i pay 'em back in kind. you must know that."

what sort of fucking off-brand vito corleone is he, anyway?

it's as he's exiting the building that he sees her -- getting her shit together to go home, presumably. he exhales a swear under his breath.

because tony soprano would never be caught dead looking like this during business hours, but it'd been what the club had on hand that was his size: a white t-shirt with the club's logo, untucked in pressed slacks. the italian leather shoes he'd worn had been covered in too much blood to justify keeping regardless of their price tag, so they'd been discarded at a landfill a few miles down. it leaves him in sock-clad feet. so, it's good thing it isn't business hours, or it shouldn't be, so what the fuck.

well. he's never not been adaptable. and there's no way he'd be able to sneak his way out of here around her to his car ---- all 350 lbs and six feet and four inches of him. if anything, it'd make him look worse. besides, the boos doesn't run, or sneak around anywhere.

he's a safe distance away when he says quietly, hands raised.

"hey. hey."

the weight of the murder weapon is suddenly heavy in the pocket of the slacks that carmela had pressed for him just this morning. her face is familiar too ---- one of the dancers. she'd have to recognize him, even with his black eyes and split lip and cut up face.

emboldened, he says, "i got a favor to ask you." / @vitalphenomena

#vitalphenomena #vitalphenomena / 01. #finalllyyy replying #so sorry i will crop next time :/ #tony continuing to be the most suspicious person alive part 100

[midasinverse]

#they're so.... #you're not just in my life; you are my life.

[midasinverse]

simply thinking abt the sopranos finale and how tony’s world goes dark because it’s heavily implied he’s dead yes but his soul is gone too. he has no life left to live, no soul, because the guilt-stricken and sensitive guy of season 1 has been wrung out of him and he’s given in.

#out. #i do genuinely believe that tony began therapy with genuine intentions etc #and there’s so many times where he tries to distance himself from The Life etc but he chooses the easier option of staying in it #i plan to go at length abt how pussy and chrissy are his only authentic connections and we know how that ended #i think a lot abt how tony was physically sick from the idea of pussy being a rat (which he knew abt. he did.) vs #how dead his eyes are when he kills chris #how elated he is etc etc #i love my terrible man……! #anyways i’m on the train thinking abt Him (as always) #may perhaps actually write her when i get back home after dinner and hw but we’ll see! #king midas in reverse.

[midasinverse]

a blog summary

#ive been zoinked and watching s.opranos v.ideo essays all day and this just came up #reminded me to get on here #out.

[midasinverse]

deflection king

#self-aware king

[midasinverse]

Michael Gandolfini as Tony Soprano in The Many Saints Of Newark (2021)

#king midas in reverse. #baby....

[midasinverse]

it's as he's exiting the building that he sees her -- getting her shit together to go home, presumably. he exhales a swear under his breath.

because tony soprano would never be caught dead looking like this during business hours, but it'd been what the club had on hand that was his size: a white t-shirt with the club's logo, untucked in pressed slacks. the italian leather shoes he'd worn had been covered in too much blood to justify keeping regardless of their price tag, so they'd been discarded at a landfill a few miles down. it leaves him in sock-clad feet. so, it's good thing it isn't business hours, or it shouldn't be, so what the fuck.

well. he's never not been adaptable. and there's no way he'd be able to sneak his way out of here around her to his car ---- all 360 lbs and six feet and four inches of him. if anything, it'd make him look worse. besides, the boss doesn't run, or sneak around anywhere.

he's a safe distance away when he says quietly, hands raised.

"hey. hey."

the weight of the murder weapon is suddenly heavy in the pocket of the slacks that carmela had pressed for him just this morning. her face is familiar too ---- one of the dancers. she'd have to recognize him, even with his black eyes and split lip and cut up face.

emboldened, he says, "i got a favor to ask you." / @vitalphenomena

#saw your bio for maryanne and the bit about needing sb to take her out of her comfort zone... well. #vitalphenomena #vitalphenomena / 01. #if i should change anything lmk!! also very lengthy bc exposition baybee #who knows what crimes anthony got up to or who's sleeping with the fishes