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sorceresssundries · 12 days

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Downpour

Pairing: Gale x Fem Reader

Summary: After so long trapped in the shadow-cursed lands, Tav basks in the delight of feeling the rain on her skin. One-shot.

Warnings: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Smut.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Ok, so I wanted to have a go a a romantic, Austen-esque, fluffy, soggy, sexy love-scene. I am a Pride and Prejudice girlie, and this was definitely inspired by the artwork i've seen floating around of Gale as Mr.Darcy. I STILL BLUSH WHEN I POST SMUT.

In the forest, away from camp, the rain fell heavy, warm, and welcome. After enduring the stagnant shadows of the curse for so long, Tav reveled in the sensation of the heavy droplets drenching her. She longed to feel the rain soak all the way to her bones, washing away the blood and shadow clinging to her skin. She craved cleanliness, yearning to return to the warm embrace of nature before being pulled back onto the road to Baldur’s Gate, where fresh burdens would undoubtedly litter the streets of her city.

Baldur’s Gate... The Upper City... Her home. Where her expectant fiancé no-doubt awaited her return, eager for her to forsake her studies of magic and join him as agreed in their betrothal. It was a future that demanded sacrifice—her independence, her magic, her heart—all in exchange for providing for her family. This was the destiny that loomed if they completed their quest, and time was slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

So, she lingered in the rain a while longer, relishing the freedom of being a fearless adventurer, a woman unbound, her soul still wild and untamed. She would postpone the inevitable, if only for a few rain-soaked hours.

Her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Gale. His anger still lingered like a storm cloud after their battle against Ketheric. She had urged him to resist the call of his Goddess, to spare himself from becoming the sacrificial weapon to slay the absolute. In doing so, he had shed his mantle of martyrdom, stepping away from the edge of his perceived heroism. And in the aftermath, when the adrenaline faded and victory cries hushed, she sensed his resentment.

At the height of his struggle, she had hoped he wouldn't need convincing. She had hoped his own worth would shine brightly enough to dispel the dark intent of Mystra's decree, and that he would have enough faith in their companions, in her, to find another path. She had believed their bond ran deep enough for him to steadfastly choose to remain by her side, but she had been mistaken. He required persuasion, and it had nearly shattered her.

She understood he owed her nothing, that no formal declarations had been made. There were moments heavy with unspoken desire, where the air crackled with anticipation. She had savoured each lingering glance and flirtatious exchange. Yet now, she wondered if it had all been a fanciful illusion. How could he desire her when his heart yearned for a Goddess? When the sigil of his devotion was literally branded over his heart? She resigned herself to accepting that he would stay by her side a while longer, and would bask in his warmth for as long as she could.

“Tav!” A distant voice called through the trees, barely audible over the rain storm's fury.

She turned to see him striding purposefully towards her, embers of anger flickering in his deep eyes. Both of them were drenched, the rain pouring down so relentlessly that it only took moments to become completely soaked. His white camp shirt clung to his chest and abdomen, accentuating the contours of his muscles. The emblem of the orb was unmistakable through the fabric, as was the dark hair which spattered his chest, trailing down into the snug, rain-soaked leather trousers tucked into his boots. Heavy droplets cascaded down his nose and fell from his long lashes like tears, and he had pushed his hair back away from his face, so now only a couple of tendrils stuck to his forehead and his cheek. The shimmer of the water cast him in ethereal beauty, and his silver earring gleamed like a lone star in the night sky. He might as well have been naked, and Tav felt a rush of heat at the sight of him. He was divine, and he was furious.

“What are you doing?” His voice was coloured with fresh anger. “You will catch your death!”

“Death has tried to catch me once today, wizard,” she said in defiance, turning her face upwards to the burst sky and running her hands through her hair. “I would like to see him try again.”

“You are stubborn and infuriating to your core! You would not allow me to sacrifice myself, and yet here you stand in the middle of a storm, taunting death as though he is a pawn in your game of heroics.”

She had never seen him this inflamed; the cool bindings of his tightly-wrapped feelings had come loose to reveal a man smouldering with desperate intent. The fact he still saw himself as a sacrifice shot fury through Tav’s veins equal to that of the Wizard before her.

“Do not blame me for what happened today! Your derision is wasted on me. I regret nothing. You were not weak; you were courageous. Vilify me if you will; resent me and cast me aside. It is a price I will pay to know your light still shines in the world. But I take no credit for your act of bravery. That was all you.”

She felt tears spill their way out of her eyes, and she belligerently let them fall alongside the welcome rain, now angry that she was letting herself fall apart in front of him. She could see him subside; he had calmed from raging ocean to a still pond. He said nothing, just waited.

“Baldur’s Gate lies ahead, and so does the end of our journey. Soon I will be home. I will marry a man I do not love, to support a family who does not care for my happiness, and I will take my courage from you, from what you did today. Please grant me the blessing of knowing it was because you wanted to stay here, with me. Just let me have that, even for a moment, even if it isn't real.”

He stepped towards her, and she stepped back, as though it was the first move in a practiced dance. She knew he meant to comfort her; she was unsure how, but it did not matter. She could not bear it.

“No, please,” she pleaded, needing to be alone. Completely soaked by the rain, despite the warmth in the air, her skin was speckled with gooseflesh, her clothing clinging to her in soaked desperation. She felt ashamed and exposed in front of him. He was everything she wanted but could never have. Jealousy, anger, and longing burned within her. If he touched her, she feared she would flame to ash in his arms. “Please, leave.”

He gazed at her face, her damp skin flushed, her dark eyes deeper than he had ever seen them, the usual mischievous sparkle replaced with swirling fear and helplessness. He longed to comfort her, to hold her.

“You should not marry him,” he said, his voice nearly drowned out by the rain. The silence that followed was heavy with tension. She held his gaze, her tears halting along with her breath.

“I am acutely aware of the shackles that will bind you upon your return. The thought of it has seared my soul. I have seen people marry for all the wrong reasons—wealth, security, anything but love. Some found it suited them, others were torn apart. That fate is for the faint-hearted, and you are not one of them.”

This time when he stepped forward, she did not move.

“They are early spring, and you are blazing summer. They are dappled moonlight, and you are blinding sun. They are house cats and cart horses, and you are a wild thing. You should not marry him,” he continued, his sadness palpable in his eyes and voice. “You will wither.” The space between them felt heavy and charged, the air warm and heady in the humid rain shower. “You talked me down from my precipice; let me help you down from yours.”

She could bear it no longer. Meeting his eyes, she began to move with purpose. That was all he needed. Rushing forward, he pushed her back against the nearest tree. She mewled in surprise before his lips captured hers, soft yet determined.

“Gale..” His name fell like dropped silk from her parted lips. As soon as he heard it exhaled in breathlessness, all soft intent was washed away with the rain. His hands were everywhere, grasping at her soaked clothing, tangling themselves in her dripping hair, pulling her hips against him. The kiss was wet - rain heavy and so so desperate. His tongue danced with hers, in ways he had fantasised about alone in his tent. He had brought himself to ecstasy thinking about the touch of her tongue against his, about all the lust induced pleasure she could summon with it. He was desperately hard, unashamedly and wantonly pressed against her. He wanted her to feel the effect she had on him, how much he desired her in all her vexing, complicated, exquisite glory.

He had been angry, yes. He had been ashamed and guilt-ridden - but for reasons he did not expect. He did not feel as though he had let down Mystra, but that he had let down Tav. He had the opportunity to rid her of her burden, to strike down the threat which loomed over her head. She would be safe from the absolute, he could have given that to her, and she had talked him out of it. He felt like a coward, a meek ember undeserving of the vivid bonfire of a woman who had blazed her way into his heart.

He realised now, entangled with her in the wild rain, that he loved her. The simplicity of it was overwhelming. She was exceptional, and he loved her.

She had thought his feelings for her were wistful imaginings, but the truth was - he burned for her, he always had. Over the course of their journey, he had caught each glance with gentle hope and clutched them to him in times of darkness. He had saved every kind word and pressed them together into the pages of a book, to be taken out and skimmed through when he needed comfort. Her name was carved into his heart, and each beat belonged to her.

They broke apart, both panting and breathless from the force of their embrace and she laughed. The most beautiful, clear chime of a laugh which stirred his blood and flooded his veins with joy. He smiled at the sight of her, and with a wave of his hand created an invisible shelter above them to shield them from the rain.

“You couldn’t have done that before?” her pupils were so lust-blown the rich brown of her eyes were thin bands around black pools of desire, and her voice sparkled and danced through him.

He peppered light kisses along her jaw and down her neck, “And spoil your fun? I wouldn’t dare.” Her hands tangled in his hair in response, and she moaned as he licked away the rainwater which had gathered in the hollow of her throat.

“Lay down for me.” The grass beneath them was dry from his magic, and a soft purple blanket had been conjured out of nowhere.

She did as he was told, and the ease of her submission did something to him. She was wild, unpredictable and stubborn, and the way in which she melted and bowed at his touch, at his command, stirred him in a way he had not felt before. He was a man undone.

He spent time slowly undressing her, lifting the hem of her soaking wet shirt and kissing the plane of her stomach, working his mouth along the sensitive ridges of her ribcage, pushing her arms upwards so he could pull the sopping wet clothing over her head. As he lifted her arms he licked the curve of her breast, her collarbone, even her armpit. He wanted all of her, and she arched her back so beautifully under his touch that he could not bear to remove his mouth for even an instant.

“Gale, please.” He had never heard her voice so low before, so wanton and dripping with unfiltered lust.

“It is unlike you to be so well-mannered.” He teased between tonguing her damp skin “Where is the wild creature who has enraptured me so?”

Her response came in a moan so primal it could have been mistaken for a growl. She was an altar he couldn’t decide whether to worship at, or desecrate. He decided there would be time for both.

He peeled the rest of her clothes from her like the rind from a sweet fruit. Putting his mouth to every inch of flesh he uncovered. The rain mixed with the salt-sweet taste of her skin was fresh and heady, and he thought that no ambrosia could taste sweeter.

He proved himself wrong when he eventually pressed his tongue where she wanted it most, where her desire gathered like a fresh-filled rockpool. She was heavenly. Every moan he pulled from her was a claimed bounty, a treasure he would hoard till the end of his days. He dipped his tongue inside her, savouring her, coating his tongue with her and then swiping upwards to run over the small bundle of nerves which could undo her completely. Her hips bucked in response.

“Exquisite.” He said in between heated kisses.

“I want all of you inside me, please.” Her cry was more breath than words. Her fingers raked through his hair and the shocks of her touch ran all the way down his spine. “You shall have me, my love. Body and soul, heart and mind. All of me, eternally.”

“Enough poetry.” She whined “Gale..”

“I want you to come against my tongue first, sweet girl. I want to taste your undoing.” He re-focused his attention back between her legs, completely devoted in his worship, intent on receiving the holy blessing of her exalted cries as she lost herself beneath him. It did not take long. His tongue was firm, his dexterous fingers stroked into her and curled to find the hidden place of her rapture. His face was lust-soaked, head spun with desire, he was drunk on her pleasure and he ground himself into the earth beneath him as she unravelled with a reckless cry. He did not stop, he coaxed her through it, tongue softening and fingers slowing their pace as her wave broke and the relentless tide retreated. Even when she was spent, he continued to kiss her intimately, revelling in the soft pulse of her muscles.

She drew him close, kissing him slowly and wantonly, savouring the taste of her own salt on his tongue. Pulling back, she gazed into his eyes, tracing the rough shadow of his beard with the pads of her fingers, fulfilling every longing touch she had yearned for. Returning the favour, she undressed him, their laughter mingling as they wrestled with his soaked leather trousers, finally leaving him as bare as she. With him above her, their bodies pressed together, anticipation sweetening the air between them.

“You are a marvel.” She whispered, tracing the vein-like mark that swirled under his eye, “I will spend each second proving to you that you made the right choice today. That the world is a brighter place for having you in it.”

“I am completely in love with you.” was his simple response, and the smile it earned him rivalled the night sky with its radiance.

“The feeling is entirely mutual.” was her teasing reply. He offered her a single soft, chaste kiss, before running his hands once again up her arms. This time to pin her hands above her head. She gasped at the sudden change in pace, and his eyes gleamed wickedly. He kept her small hands grasped in one of his, and slowly stroked the other down her body. Tracing a path to where she was still wet from desire and the focus of his tongue. Her eyelashes fluttered beautifully as his finger lightly brushed over her, and her sharp intake of breath told him she was still desperately needy. “I’m going to need to hear you say it properly, Tav.” Briefly, his strokes became firmer, purposeful, stacking a pleasurable build back from the ruins of her last orgasm. And then, he withdrew his touch from her completely, leaving her bucking and helpless.

He kissed her throat and moaned against her skin, as he shifted his position to meet her heat. The tip of him pressed against her, and he had to dredge up every drop of restraint to stop himself pushing into her in one, hard stroke.

“Be a good girl, and say it.” Between the two of them, it was unclear who was more desperate, who was winning their little game. It didn’t matter in the end, the result was always going to be the same.

“I love you.” She met his eyes and poured every ounce of love-drenched sincerity she could into her words. She meant it. She would always mean it. And with her confession, Gale finally pushed himself into her, not breaking contact with the sparkle of her eyes as he moved himself inside her.

"Let me touch you, let me show you, please," she begged, her voice aching with desire. At her plea, he released her hands, and immediately her fingers roamed his body. Her pleasure soared as she finally explored him in ways she had only dreamed of, tracing faded scars and kissing each sun-browned freckle.

His pace remained deliberate, slow at first, savouring every moment as he pulled almost completely out of her before burying himself deep inside, revelling in her tight warmth. The pouring rain and distant rumble of thunder drowned out most of their passion's noise, but Tav seemed to take it as a challenge.

She matched his intensity, moving with abandon, grinding her hips against each dedicated thrust, enticing him to unravel, daring him to let go. And he did. His kisses turned into soft bites, caresses into bruising grips on her waist, her hips, the soft flesh of her backside.

Lovemaking turned to fucking, to pure desperation and relief. He rutted into her, primal and hot - the ability to speak a distant memory as all he could do was moan into her mouth as he approached his crescendo. He flipped her over, and placed one of his arms under her leg to move it upwards, and he fucked her into the ground. They were still soaked, and they didn’t know if it was from the rain, their sweat or their pleasure, neither of them cared.

He had angled her hips so he could move more deeply into her, and still wrap his arm around her to stroke her where she needed. It was exquisite. It did not last long. Tav threw her head back against his shoulder, and gasped out a choked cry as she clenched around him - wild and lost. The sensation of her was too perfect, and Gale followed her breathlessly and completely. All rhythm lost in the chaos of her unravelling orgasm.

As they descended from their high together, he gently turned her to face him, and kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, the pads of each fingertip.

“I love you” her voice was soft hope, he gaze a bright future. They would keep each other safe, and face each challenge with hearts and hands entwined.

“The feeling is entirely mutual.” He replied breathlessly, and her laugh mingled with the sound of rain and thunder to create the most beautiful music he had ever heard.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale smut

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whatacartouchebag · 4 months

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Alright, so like.

Big massive Blue Eye Samurai spoilers that I'll tag appropriately if you're filtering for that, but I am freaking out about this single shot in the finale. The rest of it was delightful as hell, but that's a whole other post that I probably won't get to jkhdfjk

The fuckin... the sheer perfection of the narrative within this single shot is making me climb the walls and I immediately paused it to just draw a sharp breath at this scene.

Akemi, craving nothing more in her whole life than to escape from her life of royalty and suffocation and pressure and having every little thing decided for her before it's ever given thought. Seeking only freedom from men's choices. Needing only to be seen as a person.

Taigen, a man bound by incredibly strong honour, to follow the rules, to be a man amongst men, to be the strength he only wishes he could be. There is nothing about him that isn't for the supposed greater good that is so rigid in his mind (even in this scene, he comes around a little in his pleas to her, but give him time, he's still learning).

Both of them staring the other down on this bridge between worlds, knowing what lies at their backs, and knowing what the other sees over their shoulders.

And a thread that tied them both to their own anchors of their old lives now laying dead between them.

Akemi, staring into the beautiful and peaceful freedom that is finally within her grasp, seeing a pristine sky and flourishing greens, a life she's only tasted from the outside, now so close to her should she only walk towards it. A life of her own choosing. Her own destiny to carve and mould in her hands like so much potter's clay.

Taigen, seeing the very world he's strived for, the very person he's risked everything for; all of it haloed in a crumbling, fiery mess, collapsing on itself as she tells him no. All his honour, for nothing. A life of death and loss and little else left in his hands after all his work.

Everything behind her of this old life turning to ash as she tells him she's going to be the strength he wishes he could be.

Everything behind him feeling so devoid of life and the happiness he seeks as he watches her defy him, reducing him to nothing as he witnesses the sheer gods damned strength of this woman.

#Blue Eye Samurai #BES #Blue Eye Samurai spoilers #BES spoilers #spoilers #Akemi #Taigen #look i love the show and everything that happened in here #but holy SHIT #i did not expect to come out of it being a massive Akemi fan #uhhh. here we are tho.#girl took me out by the ankles and i just #yeah i'll just stay down here and stare at the ceiling for a while ta #watching her journey has given me shrimp emotions okay

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solomonish · 3 years

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Growing Pains (Lucifer & Mammon)

At first, Lucifer thought that to fall with those he loved more dearly than anyone was the final blessing the Celestial Realm would bestow upon him.

But Father did not intend to stop after taking Lilith from them. He just took her first - the brothers still had themselves and each other to lose.

ao3 link: here!

---

The office in the manor was slowly becoming more and more cluttered as Lucifer continued to drag stacks of paperwork and countless manuals on Devildom culture into the house when he returned from his meetings with Diavolo. The business he had been tasked to sort out for the rest of his existence needed to be started on right away, leaving Lucifer tied up with an amount of work fitting for the place he now had to learn to call home. Instead of navigating the new life with his brothers, he had to spend his time navigating the halls of the palace or bent over an old wooden desk. The impressive castle doors now instinctively sent a pit into his stomach and finding the Royal Butler Barbatos waiting for him to lead him so he wouldn't lose himself in the halls hurt Lucifer in a weird, bruising way he had never felt before.

By the time he got home, the house was normally quiet. It scared him, at first: after spending so long in battle, silence could only mean something bad. During the first days, he found his brothers huddled up in the same spot, unwilling to be alone. Beel and Belphie would be curled around each other in some way, inseparable as they had always been. Mammon could be found sprawled over the carpet,, one hand gripping Satan's ankle or wrist as if that'd be enough to stop one of his rampages. Perhaps it was; from what Lucifer heard, every day he was getting better, learning more. Mammon wasn't the only one gripping him; Asmodeus was often cuddled next to Satan, clinging tightly to his arm or sometimes even to him. He was getting awfully affectionate lately, but maybe it was doing Satan some good. Only Levi wasn't directly touching anyone, but even though his back was turned, his new tail would occasionally twitch and brush against one of his brothers.

These scenes gave Lucifer pause, the feeling he was learning to be pride swelling in his chest. Everything was alright. Mammon had kept things under control.

He left them alone, not wanting to disturb their peace, and continued his work, the task distracting his mind and the affection distracting his heart from the crippling grief that loomed above them all.

Eventually, though, the brothers disbanded. The quirks he had noticed growing in them soon became hallmarks of their new beings: Asmodeus' affections were becoming increasingly licentious, Belphegor could hardly be found awake regardless of the time, items turned up missing and wound up in Mammon’s possession...each of his brothers seemed to spiral further and further towards degeneracy, save for Satan, who was as sinful as it got and instead retreated into himself and forming a grudge against everyone for his status as what seemed like a half-baked replacement.

Ever the dependable brother - a thought that was now strangely accompanied by a twinge of something unpleasant instead of the warm, affectionate delight Lucifer was used to - Mammon still tried to keep everyone together.

At first, it seemed to work. Nobody seemed entirely willing or even purposely trying to avoid the others. However, it seemed that the sin they began to embody were too great an obstacle none of them knew how to hurdle. Any interruption infuriated Satan, and Asmo seemed offended at the concept of taking his own time away from himself to check in on his brothers. Beel and Belphie could never be taken away from easing the effects of their sins for long enough to hold a meaningful conversation, and Levi had already dug himself so deep in a self-deprecating hole he seemed convinced any efforts to connect were the beginning of an elaborate prank to make fun of him. When items turned up missing immediately after Mammon’s visits, doors started slamming if they even opened.

Still, his attempts to keep the camaraderie alive meant Lucifer had more time to spend on the paperwork. It was a good system - at least, that’s how he felt. Evidently, Mammon didn’t feel the same.

Normally, on the days where Mammon made a futile attempt at his rounds (days that were becoming more and more scarce throughout the week), Mammon passed by Lucifer’s door. This time, there was an angry knock on the door, more of an alert to Mammon’s presence than a request for permission. The door didn’t bang against the wall, but Mammon had twisted the doorknob rather ferociously and Lucifer almost flinched at the noise it made. Taken aback by his brother’s stormy entrance, he nearly watched him approach impassively. There hadn’t been any opportunity to discuss the proper, respectful way to enter his workspace - clearly, this needed to be remedied soon.

“What’re ya even doing in here?” Mammon bellowed, looking around. The shelves that had books in them were put together nicely, the sturdy wood packed with old books about a life they both used to find reprehensible. How cruel of their father to force them to live what He made them fear most.

“You can lower your voice,” Lucifer answered, dropping his pen on the desk. When he leaned back, ignoring the way his upper back twinged at the change from his previous slumped posture, he met Mammon’s eyes and was surprised to see genuine frustration behind them. “I’ve been working.”

A scoff had never sounded more irritating to Lucifer’s ears. “Is that what it is? Because to me, it seems like you’re avoiding us.”

Lucifer scrunched his eyebrows. “Where did you-”

“Is that it? What, we all lost so now we’re losers and you can’t stand to look at us?”

“I never-”

“Or you couldn’t fill the void left when you were thrown out as the world’s best lapdog, so you became Diavolo’s instead?”

“Stop right there, Mammon,” Lucifer commanded, standing from his seat. His voice had a steely chill to it that it never had before, one to match the resentment burning inside of him. Instinctively, Mammon backed off. They didn’t know much about their new predicament, but they knew how the seven of them ranked in power, and Lucifer would always come out on top. “I’m won’t concern myself with where you got these foolish thoughts from. Perhaps it would benefit you to spend less time with Levi-”

“Levi? How could you know if he even had anything to do with this? When’s the last time you saw him?” Mammon shot back. “Spending less time with anybody isn’t the answer to anything, though of course it’d be your answer to things.”

Lucifer sighed. “I’m working out the details of this situation so you don’t have to worry yourselves with it.”

Mammon didn’t have an immediate response to that, instead watching Lucifer with betrayed eyes. He seemed to deflate over time, a resignation falling over him that forced his fire out with a sigh. "We were a team, Lucifer. What the hell happened?"

There were obvious answers to that, and there were not so obvious answers. Faced with so many options, Lucifer found himself unable to choose between them, and instead stared blankly at Mammon. Slowly, Lucifer sat back in his seat without breaking eye contact.

We've been ripped away from everything and left to become scabs over the wounds we've been given. All I'm trying to do is give you the freedom to heal however you need to, to keep you from the chains that could have just as easily awaited us as this fate did.

I'm hiding from you a burden that is too heavy to pass on - if I move it from my shoulders, I fear my arms would be too weak to carry it to you.

There were so many ways to tell Mammon that Lucifer had to lock himself away, the door a heavy shield against his own grief and the ever-growing work that buried him and the secret he carried. Even if Lucifer didn’t trust his own mouth to only say what was necessary, he could just thank Mammon for his efforts, tell him that he trusted Mammon more than anybody to keep together the one thing that ought to stay intact after the holy hell they’d created. But something inside him bristled, swelling uncomfortably until he felt like a balloon ready to burst. Gulping down his thoughts, Lucifer resumed his writing, the pen scratching against the paper more ferociously than the claws of any creature by which they now found themselves surrounded.

"I don't need your help," Lucifer answered simply, with finality. Though the words rang true in his mind, they were leaden with the way they pulled on his heart and tasted like iron on his tongue.

Mammon scoffed again, narrowing his eyes so Lucifer wouldn't be able to notice the tears that began to gather within them. "Fine, then. I-I didn't wanna help ya out anymore anyway."

As Mammon stomped out the door of his office with a huff, Lucifer felt something snap inside him. It wasn't in the way pent up rage unleashed itself, apparently, somehow in the form of a sixth brother, but more in the way one holds on desperately to a branch too thin for the weight. Once it snaps, the plummet is rough, with stronger branches breaking up the fall and taunting tossing them around in a cruel ricochet. Outside of the thick wooden door, it was startlingly quiet, as if the house itself was forcing Lucifer to grapple with the final thread holding them together being cut with his own words.

The pain started in his chest, the way it always did, wrapping around his heart and lungs like thorny vines. The spot on his lower back, occasionally tickled by phantom feathers, throbbed as his entire brain seemed to weigh heavier in his head. After a near eternity surrounded by laughter and the beautiful, enchanting hum of Celestial life and a thundering of battle that would ring in his head for the rest of his existence, the silence seemed like a stifling blanket, the final lock on the cage they had been forced into.

When one opposed Father and lost, he truly did lose everything.

#MMMMMMMMMMM brothers #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me sw #swd obey me #lucifer #mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #lucifer angst #mammon angst #mine #swd lucifer #swd mammon #obey me fanfic

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ironwoman359 · 3 years

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Completely agree on nagas being underutilized and having a ton of potential. Both as the whumpee and the whumper….

So now I have to know. Which do you prefer…(and maybe why…talk whumpy to me lol)

Naga whumper? Or naga whumpee…

cw: whump, captivity, dehumanization, possessiveness, abuse, torture, angst with little to no comfort

Oh, I am delighted you asked, friend...it's not like I just did a bunch of research on snake health for a bad things happen bingo fic* with a naga whumpee....it's not like doing so gave me MANY more ideas than I was able to fit into that one story...and its not like I have many thoughts on how nagas could fit into the traditional creature whump tropes (that I also was reading and rereading for 'research' while writing We Blankly Stare). This is going under a cut, because, like all my fics, it got longer than I meant it to. (also, to my regular followers who aren't into heavy whump, don't mind me as I go off on a tangent into a totally different fic community; you can skip this one if you need to; at the very least mind the content warnings <3)

SO, nagas. Beautiful creatures. Like centaurs, 'human' on the top and snake on the bottom. SO much lovely whump potential, either as whumpers or whumpees, but lets focus on the whumpee side for now. In no particular order...

Pet Whump:

Decorative collars set with jewels that compliment the pattern of their highly polished scales and delicate gold chains weaving their way along their body, equal parts jewelry and restraint. They are highly prized, beautiful things, and what is the point of owning one if not to show it off?

Inviting a crowd to come and watch them feed, demonstrating their dislocating jaws and sharp fangs as they toss rodents to them whole. Bonus angst points if raw meat actually makes your naga whumpee sick, or they can eat raw meat but cooked is better. Just because they look like a snake doesn't mean they eat like one

Is your naga whumpee poisonous? Have their owner remove their fangs or poison glands, leaving them utterly dependent on them for food (and utterly helpless if they do ever manage to escape)

Nagas bred in captivity, so the only life they've ever known is one of imprisonment. Do they even consider freedom as something attainable? Or do their owners have them convinced that they're better off like this?

Lab Whump:

Nagas that are actually human/snake hybrids created in laboratory experiments just to see if it was possible.

Nagas who are kept in order to produce venom, what the venom is for could be anything!

Nagas 'enhanced' with mind and/or body altering drugs or magic to serve in the military as the perfect warrior

Nags used for experiments and drug tests because they are seen as less than human

Torture Whump:

As is the case with most torture whump, the 'why' the whumpee is being tortured isn't really important here. Maybe they have information the whumper wants, maybe the whumper is trying to get revenge or hurt whumpee's team, maybe they're just cruel. This isn't really about the 'why' so much as it is the specific 'hows' that having a whumpee who is part snake provides.

Pulling/cutting off scales, pulling out or filing down fangs, clipping or tearing off claws (a creature whump classic)

Naga specific (this is more of a lizard thing than a snake thing, but nagas aren’t real, we make the rules here!) body part removal: cutting off the tail! It doesn’t matter that it grows back, it still hurts every time. (or maybe the tail doesn’t grow back, and the naga is left unable to ‘walk’ properly)

Rough iron collars around their neck attached to a ball and chain, bonus points if the length of the chain prevents them from rising to their usual 'standing' height.

Hang them from the ceiling with cuffs and chains by their tails; upside down, right-side up, however you choose!

My those snake bodies are long...I wonder how long they can stretch?

I have one word for you: thermoregulation. Reptiles cannot regulate their own body heat, they are dependent on their environment. This gives us a whole HOST of reptile-specific torture techniques:

temperature shock: dump them in freezing water or spray them with a high-pressure hose. Unpleasant for any kind of whumpee, for the naga whumpee this has the added bonus of being fatal very quickly if they aren't warmed up.

It's not good for a snake to be too HOT either, they need to cool their bodies off just as often as they need to warm them up (don't quote me precisely on that, snake tumblr). A whumper who keeps their naga under bright, hot lights nearly constantly so they're dehydrated, covered in blisters, and/or always feverish (can a naga get a fever? idk, up to you. snakes don't, but snakes don't have human torsos. we can be wishy washy with health issues)

So extreme heat and extreme cold are bad, but did you know that (while it's breed specific) most snakes lose its ability to thermoregulate at around 70 degrees Fahrenheit? When their body temperature drops below this (but not so low that we're in hypothermia territory), their movements are sluggish, they cannot/will not eat, and it is very easy for them to develop infections, scale rot, all sorts of problems. Does the whumper keep them in low temperatures to make them weak and pliable in their hands, easy to control? Does the whumper use these conditions as a punishment for bad behavior? Or give reprieve from them as a reward for good behavior? There’s just SO much that can be done with temperature alone! It’s one of the things that sets nagas apart from other creatures and THAT is one of the most criminally underused aspects, in my oh so humble opinion!

Other Fun Concepts:

Nagas with their tails trapped under rubble, unable to pull themselves free.

Nagas kept in a cage that's far too small for them, their body wrapped up so tightly they can barely move.

Did you know that when a snake's body temperature is too low, it can't digest its food? And that if it does eat something and then doesn't have the energy to digest it properly, it will either instinctually regurgitate that food back up or run the risk of the food literally rotting in its stomach? Take this knowledge into literally any of the pet or torture scenarios and you have some A+ snake specific whump

Tiny nagas! Like the western hognose snake or the ringneck snake, these little guys can fit in the palm of your hand! Apply literally any previously listed scenario to your tiny naga for instant fantasy g/t whump! also vore...that's not my scene but it was one of like, two things i found while looking for naga whump on tumblr earlier, so I feel obligated to mention it.

Giant nagas, YOU can fit in THEIR hands. Does that make them the whumper, or still the whumpee? You decide!

Water nagas! combine mer whump with naga whump and you’ve got a water snake to hurt!

Nagas with scale rot, respiratory infections, kinks in their spine, or other snake health issues, either from mistreatment from a whumper or natural causes.

As you can tell, I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, lol. I hope you enjoyed, and if anyone writes anything based off these, I’d love to see it! Also, HAVE I been considering making a whump sideblog for awhile? yes. Did writing this post convince me to finally do it? Also yes. So I'll be over at @ironwhumper359 if you'd like to talk more whump with me, I’d be delighted to have you :)

*if you would like to read said bad things happen bingo fic, know that while it is labelled Sanders Sides, because that’s the fandom I mainly write it, the first chapter only has one character from the series in it and is honestly much more of an original whump piece than it is a fanfic. The second and third chapters are more fandom specific (though you’re of course still welcome to read them even if you’re not a sanders sides fan), but that first one can be read as stand-alone whump!

#whump #naga whump #naga whumpee #pet whump #dehumanization #creature whump #whump prompts #lab whump #torture tw #angst #asks and answers #simplygrimly

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rufousnmacska · 3 years

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I have a lot of thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames, and since it helps me to write them out, I thought I’d share.

It’s behind a cut because SPOILERS and it’s long lol!

Nesta

I had expected we’d learn that Nesta had suffered some type of abuse or trauma as a child that Elain and Feyre were not aware of. I wasn’t expecting it to be so subtle, for lack of a better word. Abuse comes in a lot of forms, which I think SJM is good at showing. Emotionally manipulating your daughter for power, ignoring her in favor of your business and money … those may not be as visible as physical or verbal abuse, but they still cause damage.

I’m not sure how to convey it properly, but I thought it was important to show how the parts of her that were born from the abuse and trauma, while dark or not always healthy, were still useful. The wolf she became to survive her childhood helped her survive the cauldron. Not being able to “turn it off” is what hurt her. My favorite quote:

“So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too.”

And as Amren said later “That’s the key isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus on the good, the things that fill you with wonder.”

I’ve seen a lot of fans upset that Nesta gave up her cauldron powers at the end to save Feyre and the baby. Although I’d initially hoped (post acofas) that her training would be more about her magic than physical training, I’m okay with how it worked out. She never wanted that power and she never liked having it. She stole it as revenge and she fought constantly to suppress it. Was she a badass when she wielded it? Absolutely! But ultimately, her giving it back was the final big step in her healing arc and acceptance of herself. (That doesn’t mean she’s “cured.” This will be an ongoing battle for her. I only mean this in terms of the story in this book.)

She chose to sacrifice it, unlike so many other times in her life when things were forced on her or happened to her. Unlike the future her mother had set out for her. Unlike when they were poor and her father did nothing to get them through. Unlike when she was thrown into the cauldron and then a war. Even unlike when she was forced to move into the House of the Wind, and her apartment – the one place she had chosen for herself no matter how run down it was – got demolished. I’m not going to go into the intervention too much. It was poorly done, but I doubt any of them had experience in doing one. A conversation acknowledging that might have been nice. And I’m not ignoring Feyre and Rhys’s hypocrisy of Nesta being confined to a place where she effectively had no way to leave on her own. The stairway at that point was not an option. But the bottom line is that Nesta needed help and was not in a position to willingly accept it or seek it out.

Regardless, she is still a lethal badass. She still has some of her powers, along with her fighting skills, which will only get better and better. So, the idea that she gave up what made her strong, or ended up as some meek housewife … I don’t agree with that at all. She has the intelligence and potential to become a force in leading armies. Not to mention her skill as an emissary. (Which Cassian finally learned how to imitate lol!)

On a personal note, I’m intimately familiar with the depression and self-loathing Nesta experienced in this book. Although I don’t necessarily react to those feelings in the same ways or exhibit the same coping mechanisms (I tend to turn my anger inward rather than outward), I could still relate to her journey. Her stubbornness and feelings that she didn’t deserve love or anything good or kind were presented accurately in my opinion. Parts were hard for me to read because of that. But I loved that she was able to make her way through the pain and finally begin to accept and love herself. And I especially loved that she was helped not only by Cassian, but by her friendship with Emerie and Gwyn.

And the House! Holy shit. The magic houses in this world piss me off to no end because they are not real and I will forever need to clean my own place LOL! Her relationship with the house was beautiful and funny and I love that she Made it! She needed a friend, someone to understand her, not only what she wanted but what she needed, and boom! The House of the Wind came alive for her.

So, overall, I loved Nesta’s journey. I’m happy she ended in a place that brought her inner peace and the ability to better deal with her problems in the future.

Nessian

I loved them before this book and I love them more after. The smut was a little shocking at first lol but I’ve read the Black Dagger Brotherhood books, which SJM loves, so really, it wasn’t that out there. I loved that Cassian showed that even with the mating bond, he could give Nesta space and freedom. In that respect, their relationship felt more mature to me than feysand. Their banter and the sexual tension was great! (The book is about a book.) They had some not great moments, as they have in past books. But those were realistic. People argue and say things they regret. But they also talk through it and apologize. This is a good time to point out – NOT ALL APOLOGIES INVOLVE EXPLICITLY SAYING I AM SORRY. There are other ways to show remorse and ask for forgiveness.

I don’t know if I had one favorite moment as there were quite a few. I think the most emotional for me was when they reached the lake. I know firsthand how difficult it is to speak aloud the things Nesta said. And I am also lucky to have people in my life who responded the way Cassian did – with love and support and kindness.

The nightmare scene, the prison scene, the dancing, the mating bond, Cassian turning the knife on himself … I loved them all!

The Valkyries

I fucking loved them! Gwyn and Emerie were absolute delights and I’m so glad Nesta made good friends of her own who she could be herself with. Their bonding over books, training, and their pasts was wonderful. Nesta urging them on and defending them from the Illyrians in the Blood Rite was a beautiful step in her healing. Before this book, I was hesitant about the foreshadowing that Nesta would take part in the Rite, fearing it would become some sort of white savior trope to help the female Illyrians. But I enjoyed the way it ended up happening. I know it seemed unrealistic for Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn to get that far against warriors who’d been training for years. But part of the point was the males were arrogant as fuck. They underestimated the trio, to their detriment. Nesta and her friends used cunning as much as strength and skill to get where they did.

And I loved the image of Emerie and Gwyn just sitting back, sipping tea and admiring the river after going through a week of pure hell and winning the Blood Rite.

I hope we get more of them all together in the next books.

ETA - I can’t believe I forgot! Gwyn writing their story because their stories deserve to be told 🥲💕

The sisters

Overall I liked how things turned out with them.

Elain is still a bit of a non-entity to me. I don’t feel like I really know anything about her. Which, to some extent, is the point I think. There will be a lot to reveal in her story and she has a shitload of healing to do. She may have the appearance of adjusting and fitting in, but I don’t buy it. Nesta telling Elain to fuck off was awesome and long overdue. But Elain was also right in pointing out how others treat her and the trauma she’s experienced. I think there is still more to be dealt with between these two in the next book.

Feyre and Nesta were the more interesting relationship to me. The eldest and the youngest tend to butt heads in my opinion (and personal experience). So I was glad they came to an understanding. And very glad that Feyre did not get angry with Nesta for telling her about the baby. Rhys deserved the wrath for that.

One thing I would have liked to see discussed was the role of their parents in their lives. Nesta holds a lot of guilt for how she reacted to their poverty and I think that is understandable. I think Elain does too. However, I do not think any of the sisters should harbor blame for what happened. Their father was responsible for them. Period. Even if he was physically unable to work or help around the house, he still could have been a father. Yes, Feyre stepped up and fed them. Nesta and Elain didn’t help. It was his role to make them. Not in an abusive way. But step up and tell Nesta and Elain to do something, whether it’s chop wood or gather food from the wild. I don’t know. In my opinion, it is wrong to place blame on young girls who had a parent that did nothing. His actions in acowar were noble, but they don’t erase his failures. That all of this was glossed over disappointed me. I think this was something Nesta needed to be told explicitly by both her sisters. She had things to apologize for and feel guilt for, but she was not the one who should have protected Feyre. All three of them should have been protected by their father.

The Inner Circle

It’s kind of funny to me how blind they all are about each other. I don’t even know what else to say about their dysfunction.

Amren’s sudden desire for Rhys to become High King was weird, and though I should know better, I still really hope the series doesn’t end that way. The IC tends to have good intentions about things, but I don’t think they know how to handle a problem without some kind of force. And controlling all the other courts is not something that would happen easily, especially with perceived allies.

Amren and Mor thinking Nesta belonged or should be sent to the Court of Nightmares was a spectacularly shitty take. The lack of awareness and acknowledgement that Nesta was suffering from multiple traumas was just … unbelievable.

But considering how much this group does not see about each other, I guess it’s not a surprise. I don’t know how much is willful ignorance or just really, really poor people skills. I understand how this all makes for good angst and drama, I really do. But I’m just at the point where it’s grating. They need to sit the fuck down and talk to each other. It’s been five hundred years for fucks sake. 🤦🏻‍♀️😂

Rhys

Okay. I liked Rhys in acotar and acomaf. But the sparkly exterior wore off big time for me in acowar and acofas. I honestly could have done without him in this book. But I wasn’t foolish enough to expect him to not be in it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that SJM has her favorites and Rhys is at the top of the list.

Having said that, he annoyed the shit out of me in this book. Someone really needs to explain to him that a choice between two awful things, one of which might be deadly, is not really a choice. I don’t have the energy for it, but better writers than me could write a thesis on the illusion of choice in these books. Which is, in my opinion, pretty clearly tied to the brand of feminism presented.

Not only is the choice given to Nesta at the beginning not a choice, Rhys doesn’t seem to consider Elain at all in his argument with Az. All other issues with that bonus chapter aside, he saw them. He saw the mutual attraction and consent. What happened to not forcing females to accept the mating bond? What happened to respecting her choice and autonomy? I considered the possibility that maybe since he knows Az, there’s a reason he thinks they wouldn’t work. But then, that pretty much flies out the window by him asking Az about Mor. Sure, Az is still hung up on Mor, but she is pretty fucking clear about her opinion.

The whole thing about not telling Feyre about the risky childbirth was awful. And not that I would expect it to happen, but not even mentioning abortion as an option was frustrating. That plot line was not good in any way. There were plenty of other things that could have gone wrong with the birth to push Nesta to act at the end. To be honest, the feysand dynamic is not great. While I appreciated her standing up to him about Nesta and other things, he very deliberately uses sex as a distraction to get out of arguments. Yet another way he never really seems to suffer consequences of bad behavior.

I will say I was really glad he got the opportunity to experience the full trauma of what Nesta went through. And my petty ass loved him kneeling before her at the end!

Miscellaneous

Where was Illyria?? My one serious expectation for this book was that we’d learn more about Illyria and deal with the revolution that was hyped up in acofas. To be written off in one paragraph was disappointing. It makes me think that if we are to ever get more details about the Illyrians, it might be in Az’s story. It was mentioned a few times that he hates them (with good reason) and would wipe them off the map if it was up to him. So I’m guessing his arc will require him coming to terms with that.

Elriel-Elucien-Gwynriel

I’ve never been super invested in this story line but I admit I’ve leaned more towards Elriel in the past. Partly because I like some of the complementary symbolism associated with them, but mostly because I’d really like to see a story about rejection of the mating bond. Even with the extra chapters, I feel like we still don’t know much of anything about who Elain truly is. And the same can be said of Az. So, those chapters didn’t sway me that much. With the exception of Az interacting with Gwyn. I agree with a lot of others saying Az has a lot of work to do on himself before he can be with anyone. I think Elain and Gwyn also have a lot of healing to do. SJM can take this in so many directions that I just don’t know what to think.

I will say that originally I was expecting the next book to involve a love square of Elain, Az, Lucien, and Vassa, because I did see a connection between the last two. But now … Was Lucien annoyed by Jurian and Vassa because he’s jealous? Just annoyed? I don’t know. I still think Vassa will be in the next books if only because of Koschei. But I’m not so sure about her involvement with Lucien. I think we’ve got enough people in this love polygon lol! Jesus, what a mess. But maximum angst 😂

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life-rewritten · 4 years

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Psycho but it’s okay Rapunzel and the cursed castle analysis

Sacrifice and Neglect

Psycho but it’s okay episode 5, is titled Rapunzel in the cursed castle. There’s been many hints in the intro, the flashbacks, and also like I said previously the cursed castle also gave those vibes of the fairy tale. But first let’s look at Rapunzel and see what the show uses to foreshadow the story.

Rapunzel in the Cursed Castle

Rapunzel is the known fairy-tale told by the Brothers Grimm. Also, writers who loved to use violence and discomforting situations in their tales The summary of the plot of Rapunzel as followed.

‘Due to her mother’s hunger and her father’s desperate need to protect her mother, Rapunzel ends up getting taken by a sorceress in order to pay for the fact that her mother ate some greens also named after from the sorceress’s garden. She grows up to become beautiful and have extremely long hair. The sorceress panics and traps her in a castle with no way of escaping, the only way the sorceress visits her is by asking her to let down her hair. The prince however hears her singing and sneaks in and asks her to let down her hair they fall in love and plan a way to escape. Unfortunately, they get caught, Rapunzel loses her hair and is tossed out into the wild, the prince falls into thorns and become blind. The witch traps her self in the tower. Rapunzel and the prince however later find each other, her tears washes away the scratches in his eye and he starts to see, they live happily ever after.’

This is how the story is told in the show by Moon Young: Because she is the Rapunzel in the story she tells it from her point of view.

‘A long time ago, deep inside the forest, there lived a little girl in a cursed castle. The girl’s mother always told her that she’s too special to live among everyone else outside the castle… However, the girl felt like she was imprisoned. So she prayed to the moon every day: ‘Please send me a handsome prince who can save me from here. Will he come today? Will he come tomorrow?’ The girl waited for him every day.’

Zombie Kid & Rapunzel

I want to first break down the theme of the episode that was shown in the tale of Zombie Kid in the previous episode and also shows up here. That’s the idea of being trapped by either neglect or being trapped by sacrifice. In Zombie Kid, the idea of neglect stems from the world neglecting the mother and the zombie kid because he’s different, his mum also neglects him by not giving him what he actually desperately craved warmth, she locked him in the basement and just fed him to stop his hunger. I want to pause there first so you see the mirror images and themes in Rapunzel that are also similar in this tale. This is the fact that a character is so hungry that their hunger requires sacrifice, but it leads to neglect. In Rapunzel her mother’s desperate cravings leads to her father sacrificing her instead so his wife gets the food. But it leads to her feeling neglect and imprisonment because she’s all alone with no family but the witch. In Zombie Kid he ends up alone because his mum sacrifices herself when all he really wanted the most was her love and warmth, he felt neglected by her sacrifice. The idea of hunger and obsession leading to people feeling hurt and alone is one of the important things to take notice of. This parallels to Gang Tae and his mum when she sacrificed everything for Sang Tae but neglected his feelings and wants, and also Moon Young because of her mother and her father’s decisions in the past.

Character Analysis of Rapunzel

THE FATHER

Next, we focus on the story again. And we are introduced in this story to the father in Rapunzel. His actions and his sacrifice is what leads Rapunzel to be taken and captured by the sorceress. He trades her for the vegetables to keep the mother happy. This is messed up when you think about it but it’s also quite telling for this show. I’m going to make a post on bluebeard later this week as well which also mirrors this same idea. First of all we know Moon Young’s dad has a disorder which causes him to automatically when he sees Moon Young to want to kill her. We are also hinted to that he could be violent and might have killed her mother because he feared her. Stay with me, the thing is I disagree with this. Because I think just like the father here who loved his wife so much, he’d sacrifice his daughter’s mental state, I think that’s what Moon Young’s father did too. Because he’s so in love with her mother, as told in the story of Bluebeard, because he saw her as an angel no matter what she did, I think he let her isolate Moon Young and groom her the way she wanted making Moon Young imprisoned in the castle he built for her mother. The signs are there that he was obsessed with her mother, he builds a castle so they can both stay there alone from everyone, he sees her as an angel someone who can’t do wrong, and I’m sure he’s trying to kill Moon Young either one because he realises his mistake and sees her mother in her, or two she was involved with the disappearance of her mother and he hates her for that. The father in Rapunzel does everything he can for his wife who is about to die because she doesn’t want anything but the vegetables found in the witch’s garden. For her to not leave him he goes and takes them and trades them with his daughter.

THE WITCH

We then focus on the witch in this story or the sorceress. Her anxiety about letting Rapunzel go into the world is heavy, she sees her as her possession and object, and grooms her up all alone. She refuses her to leave and makes it impossible for anyone else to get to her. This obviously shadows Moon Young’s mother. We are shown the scene where Moon Young’s mum takes a hair brush in the cellar and brushes her hair. This mirrors what happened whenever the witch visited Rapunzel. Moon Young’s mother calls her beautiful and tells her she’s her creature made just for her. She also shows up in the end of the flashback as Moon Young runs to go see Gang Tae. She makes her push him away and we know she threatens to kill him because of the previous tale Sleeping Witch. In Moon Young’s sleep paralysis nightmares her mother hovers above her promising to kill whoever tries to free her. This is what the witch does to Rapunzel. But just like Moon Young Rapunzel is delighted when a prince finds a way to enter into the castle. They immediately start making plans to escape. Unfortunately they are caught. I also mentioned this in my brain dump but the witch throws the prince of the window of the castle into a thorn bush that blinds him once she caught him and Rapunzel planning to escape. This is another proof that Moon Young is terrified that Gang Tae will die if he stays near her.

So you may ask why is she not trying to push him away anymore. Because her mother is meant to be ‘dead’. I put dead in quotation marks because both me and Moon Young clearly feel like she is not, her ghost hunts both Moon Young and her father, and we know she disappeared, we’re not sure how. Moon Young’s flashback seems to show two different women being killed, and we don’t know if any of them is her mother. But Moon Young believes that her mother can’t harm anymore once she finds the prince again, just like Rapunzel she stays by his side and makes him be able to see. Metaphorically this is what Moon Young is doing for Gang Tae, she’s trying to make him see her beneath the assumptions that she’s unfeeling, she’s trying to make him see who she really is not who she made him think she was, she’s trying to make him see that he also can be free and heal. And the prince once he begins to see stays with Rapunzel and they live happily ever after. Except…

ROMEO AND JULIET

We are also told another tale and the previous fairy tales also allude to this. You can read my previous analysis to know more. We are alluded to the story of Romeo and Juliet, and also shown imagery linked to it by the balcony scene in both episodes 5 and 6. This is not a good foreshadowing to the story again. I mentioned that red shoes means that eventually Moon Young will choose to let Gang Tae go, we see that this was correct because she chose to let him go in the past to save him, I said that this meant that something will show up later that will cause our couple to be separated again. And this is shown through the shadowing of Romeo and Juliet. The idea that the families are against each other already foreshadows that the actions of her father and mother, will be negative towards Gang Tae’s family. And we already know something has happened to Gang Tae’s mother, there’s a murder that we’re still trying to unveil. I also said from the beginning that Moon Young tearing butterflies is because she was involved somehow in murder of the mother, because the murder is alluded with the imagery of butterflies. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the same butterflies haunting Gang Tae and Sang Tae is also Moon Young mother who is haunting Moon Young and her father? I already agreed to this that Moon Young’s mother was either a serial killer, or was not afraid to kill women who she thought were better than her, or obstacles. This is why she’s a great murder detective novelist. I’m now 80% sure she was the person who killed Gang Tae’s mother which means that once that is unveiled, Moon Young and Gang Tae will separate again because of trauma, anger and hurt. Just like in Romeo and Juliet, the teens are forced to separate that they choose death once they see freedom is futile. Though Moon Young mentions that, that could have been sorted out through communication if both of them chose to sleep.

What made me happy however is that Rapunzel is a happy ending, we are right now watching the part where the prince and Rapunzel reunited and started a family. We are seeing a found family with Gang Tae and Moon Young and her illustrator and manager. I can see the warmth return back to the cursed castle and Gang Tae has chosen to stay by Moon Young’s side, he is starting to SEE just like the prince.

Ps...

Before I go, I know this post is sooo long. Sorry there’s just so much to say. The imagery of the show mentions thorns again. I mentioned how in sleeping witch, thorns were disguised as a rose to make Beauty fall for the curse, in this story the prince was also tricked by the witch in disguise as Rapunzel and she led him to climb up until she pushed him to fall into the thorns. In sleeping witch thorns trapped her and made her succumb to her curse, in Rapunzel thorns prevent the prince from finding Rapunzel. I thought this was interesting, could the thorns represent the trauma that has scarred each of our character’s hearts, could it be harshness of the world stabbing them in the back cause they’re different, or could it just represent Moon Young’s mother in all of their lives, she is the reason why trauma, anger and pain is happening to the characters, and she might return again. I’m also scared how she could return because if there’s anything foreshadowed it shows that not all good things are good in this show, so she probably will be a disguise as something pleasant. Let’s keep our eyes out.

Okay this is my full analysis on Rapunzel, and I will try and do Bluebeard later this week. But again I’m enjoying this show, I find it surprising when I analyse and it makes sense, or when the show agrees with my theories. Can’t wait for Saturday.

#psycho but it's okay #psycho but its okay #it's okay to not be okay #its okay to not be okay #kdrama #kdramanet #netflix #analysis #fvete

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onetrainscifi · 3 years

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Whoo. That pilot was--a lot to unpack. Parts of it were definitely 😬 *cringe* but I also find myself grateful that the network recognized its potential and liked the heart of it enough to bring on a new creative team.

Like, reading all the slides with Cleo I realized what I'd been missing in Zarah-this pilot really stressed the loving relationships of the murdered man's family and actually let Cleo react to his death while our Zarah told Layton a grand total of ONCE that Sean Wise was 'someone she loved' but then never mentioned/mourned him (or her other partners who just? disappeared?? They were led away in handcuffs, were they ever released? Were they drawered? Did they blame Zarah and therefore just never return to the home they'd shared? What side did they take in the rebellion? Like, what happened to these people?!) again. And from that moment on her character seemed so untethered--so unattached to the rest of what was taking place because she had no emotional center. This great, traumatic event that should have been both her character motivation and kept her tethered to the action/investigation was just kinda--swept to the side. Like, if we had gotten a Zarah who was more like Cleo, who pestered Layton, regardless of their thorny past, for updates on the investigation and had to be the rock for her mourning family and who stood solidly with Miss Audrey in righteous anger for the blue-eyed firstie who did this horrible thing--I would've enjoyed her so much more! And Ugh! Jinju and Till being supportive and cute From The Start(!) was 😍. Just--the fact that the focus on healthy love and affection happened to be centered on a polyamorous family and a lesbian couple was great.

But there were other things in the Pilot that seemed so-tonally different and just questionable. Like maayyybe making Layton a chronole 'stoner' was an indicator that parts of his character were drawn not just from the hero Curtis in the movie but also Namgoog, the security specialist. And mayyybe they weren't trying to be completely blind to the fact that their black protagonist deserves as much heart and conviction as his white counterpart in the movie, but. Yikes. Making him addicted to chronole and so...morose/spaced out all the time robs him of that drive and conviction that would make me believe any of the Tailies would rally behind him. Our Layton is a go-getter, a man of action and this guy in the pilot was...not. So...props to Graeme for making our Layton so much better!

But also--WHY would they choose to stress to us that Osweiller is a footballer JUST to freeze his foot off? In both the show and film the limb removal scenes really hammered home how cruel the HUMANS on the train chose to be to each other. And the freezing of the cattle car itself should've been enough to remind us the world outside is treacherous and inhospitable--they didn't have to try so hard to show us that any act of kindness or altruism on the train is futile. Like after seeing THAT, what the hell could possibly help move Till in the direction of choosing compassion and justice for the Tail?!

But I digress-I think the areas I'm most grateful for change were in regards to our season 1 powerhouses, Layton and Melanie. And some of it was so subtle but made SUCH a difference, like pilot Melanie's quirk was tapping her acrylic nails against her teeth--a sign that 1) she's perfectly happy reaping the benefits of 1st class life and 2) she's always thinking/conniving/SCHEMING. But OUR Melanie has a habit of rubbing her neck when she's stressed--as if THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD/HUMANITY IS ON HER SHOULDERS. Pilot Melanie is also uppity and shows up early to catch people off-guard. Our Melanie is quiet and studious when we first meet her-gauging the situation, letting Layton and others reveal their hand first-and she shows up late/after the main players are already gathered BECAUSE SHE HAS TO BE EVERYWHERE. But honestly I think the change I am absolutely most grateful for (aside from pretty much everything, lol. Like, I canNOT IMAGINE Alison Wright as Lilah instead of Ruth. And letting Miles actively seek the engineer apprenticeship to help the rebellion instead of having Layton(?) who is neither this child's father nor his active mentor (literally all they do is wrangle rats together in the pilot) make that choice for him WITHOUT his actual mother's consent was clearly a stroke of genius. As was just...not focusing so much on cow 18. Like. We get it. They're like animals crammed together in a cattle car. There is no reason to make so many Holocaust references in the first five pages of the script. There are other, far less jarring ways to convey human suffering and misery on this fictional show about a manmade Armageddon. -_-) is the ommission of the shady magistrate as part of the leadership/inner circle/cult.

Having him and that other guy making the decisions/embodying the ACTION of those decisions moving forward if this pilot had been their opener would've really detracted from the heft of Melanie's secret--like in the finished product, we have Melanie behind the curtain, an engineer by trade who clung to this cruel/unfair system all for the sake of keeping the train, the thing she built and the hope it represents, ALIVE and moving. It was a choice that didn't feel like a choice. A necessity. And yet she was changed by it. The mask of Wilford is harsh and she has to become harsh. She wears all these hats and leans on others when she has to (like Ben, Jinju, etc) or when a situation is truly dire, but there is no room for doubt that it is HER decision at the end of the day. She's the one who saves the train over and over when mechanics fail. And she's the one who decides to commute LJ's sentence. The Wilford mask/veil has allowed her the freedom to make these absolute decisions without oversight-so SHE alone bears the brunt of the consequences. There's no one else to blame, which made for some of the most delicious drama on the show when that secret was brought to light. How Melanie related to individuals (like Ruth, Layton, etc.) and how she related to the passengers as a whole was suddenly, VIOLENTLY, upended and allowed for really tense character moments.

And we wouldn't have gotten that if they had kept the shady magistrate stepping in to try to strong arm Jinju and others into doing the cult's will.

Like, maybe it could've panned out in a satisfying way but I will never forget how excited I was when we got the "I have the train" exchange in the first episode that revealed it was a WOMAN at the helm. A smart, cunning, hard to read but delightful to watch woman who'd been hiding in plain sight, in a uniform that screams 'subservient' and 'service' but had been popping up continually in places and spaces that seemed better suited to the men running the investigation and security/murder squad-this woman is shown to be in charge of it. ALL of it. The good (the beautiful aquarium, life in perfect balance, etc.) AND the bad (the Tail and it's horrors). THAT moment was really the one where I thought "I'm hooked. I wanna see where this goes." And so I'm so glad they cut the magistrate - and cult, honestly - out.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble! Thanks for sharing that pilot stuff! It has given me much to think about! :)

Breaking this down into parts again here we go!

1. Yes!! Exactly!! Cleo was given so much depth and room to grieve and have that actually be part of her storyline unlike Zarah. So I did really like that.

2. They made Layton SO much better good god. Like. Thankfully they improved his character.

3. I don't honestly know?? Like maybe to show what it does to humans?? No idea.

4. Y e a h exactly. We all love an unhinged woman but pilot Melanie was...yikes. Like...she genuinely seemed so happy to be in 1st class and have this power to be Wilford's chosen hospitality worker and scare people. And Alison Wright as Lilah would be so cute though, I wanna see it akdjsksi

5. YEAH THE MAGISTRATE GUY IS JUST REALLY NOT IT. He is not who we want he's just?? Seemingly one of the second in commands in Melanie's cult, which is odd but oh well.

#snowpiercer #snowpiercer tnt #asks #snowpiercer pilot

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alottanothing · 4 years

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Left to Ruin: Chapter Nineteen

Summary: Nouke shares concerns with Kahmunrah’s freedom. Ahk learns of potential enemies and finds comfort from the woman he loves.

Previous Chapters

Word Count: 7360

Warnings: Little angsty, little smutty but not terribly explicit--18+ only just to be safe

Tag List: @xmxisxforxmaybe, @r-ahh-mi, @theultraviolencefan, @hah0106, @rami-malek-trash, @diasimar, @sherlollydramoine, @flipper-kisses, @ivy-miranda-2390, @txmel, @sunkissedmikky, @concentratedsassandcandy, @babyalienfairy, @edteche2 (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Long chapter this week! And it’s spicy towards the end! That doesn’t mean there’s no plot, there’s defiantly a shift in our dear pharaoh’s world that will carry through to the end, so YAY for that. This is also were I took some major historical liberties for the sake of my plot; so forgive me on that... Thank you to all of you who left comments or gifs or fun tags last week, you guys are the best. Hopefully the tags work on this chapter, I went through and readded them, if not, I’ll just reblog it again with the tags. Sorry tumblr doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with me. (There’s also a chance this will get flagged because of my choice of photos in my moodboard, hopefully not...but we will see). Once again as a disclaimer, I am not an ancient Egyptian expert and google only knows so much. So yeah, I took so historical liberties while writing this to make my life easier, but tried to keep it as “authentic” as possible

The mid-afternoon sun was high overhead, beating against the sands with sweltering golden rays that—even with the breeze—were beginning to slip into an acutely unbearable heat. Ahkmenrah, however, didn’t mind it.

The ardor of Ra’s rays upon his tan skin tingled with an effervescence that made him feel alive. Most of his days were spent confined in the halls of his great palace, shielded from the warmth as he went about his responsibilities as king. His childhood was rich with memories under the sun and against the capricious desert winds; and every day the pharaoh counted the hours until he could bathe in that luminous golden glow—even if it was only for an hour or two.

That afternoon had been auspicious; in that, the usual noise and obligations of his daily routine stood at a plateau. There were so few civic duties to see to in the throne room that just as Ahkmenrah had made himself comfortable in the garish chair, there were no other appointments to see to.

It was a relief Ahk chose not to take for granted. The previous six months were riddled with visitors—noble men and women—who came from near and far to shower their new prince with pleasantries and gifts. Each was a well crafted, almost wholesome, pantomime: a show of allegiance with the hope to somehow gain the infant's favor. It seemed ridiculous, but the king and queen played host as they were expected to for them all.

The last of the guests had left that morning on their boat or in caravans, traveling back to their home along the Nile. It felt good to be rid of them. All that remained for Ahk to see to with his kingly persona was the council meeting; even that would be simpler than hosting nobles. He looked forward to an easy briefing.

With the promise of a simple meeting on the horizon and a lax morning behind him, Ahkmenrah took to the grandest of the palace gardens (the very same he’d entertained droves of guests the night Nouke became his queen). The significantly quieter grounds offered a pleasant backdrop as he strolled leisurely along the sandstone footpaths with Kahmunrah at his side. Ahk preferred the serenity to the chaos.

Sharing walks with Kahmunrah had become something of a routine when their busy schedules would allow such a liberty. Each venture lent a catharsis that embodied all the evenings they shared together in the cells, and the lack of bars only seemed to amplify the abreaction of their conversations. Even when most of the topics they spoke of were political matters, the words they exchanged were meditative.

Often, Merenkahre joined them, adding his two cents where he felt was necessary, but mostly he seemed content to simply enjoy the jovial company of his sons. Although the former pharaoh never said it outright, Meren's demeanor was filled to the brim with joy, made evident by his immovable smirk. It thrilled him to see Kah free of his anger just as much as it thrilled Ahk.

In three months of freedom, Kah became a model brother and advisor. The years of over-aggressive solutions gave way to thoughtful guidance that Ahkmenrah knew his brother had always been able to formulate if he were to move past his anger. Only twice had Kahmunrah offered a less than ideal solution to a problem, and each time he caught himself to quickly remedy the blunder with an apology and an appropriate fix. Habits were hard to break and Ahkmenrah chose to be lenient, letting each folly pass with mild scolding.

Somehow, it was working; his brother was finally his brother. How strange it was for the pharaoh to think of all he held: an empire in his hands and a crown on his head. He had his parents—loving and wise—who strove to guide him through every day of his life. He had sisters who loved him, each of whom he loved dearly in return. Kahmunrah now looked upon him with respect. Sekmenrah, his son, was happier and stronger each day. And most of all, Ahkmenrah was blessed to fall into the arms of the woman he had always loved whenever he wanted.

Bliss couldn’t even describe what he felt. Blessed even seemed too rudimentary; though, in his heart, Ahk knew, his life and all he loved was a blessing. They were each of them gifts given to him directly from the gods themselves, and everyday Ahkmenrah prayed his thanks.

Merenkahre elected not to join his sons that particular afternoon, choosing, instead, to spend the hours before duty summoned once more with his wife.

The casual air of the palace fostered a calm that Ahk held on to gladly. With a limited list of duties to see to, there was very little for the pharaoh and his brother to discuss as they strolled through the grand garden, but Ahkmenrah was happy for the quiet company all the same as he thought dreamily of all the gifts his life held.

Their meditative promenade stretched into the early evening, and soon; Ahk's stomach grumbled in protest—tired of the walk and demanding food.

Kah grinned with a slight chuckle at the obnoxious sound and offered to escort his brother to the West Garden where the pharaoh took most of his meals with his queen.

The walk back through the palace was short and spent in amicable silence. Immediately a frown fought to turn Ahk’s lips, missing the sun against his face, but his smile came quickly once they reached the garden he loved and Ra’s golden columns once more warmed his skin.

Nouke was seated in the shade of a towering palm tree as she noshed on a plate of fruits and slices of bread laid upon the table in front of her. Her escort of Medjay and a single maidservant stood reverently nearby; a professional indifference painted on their features. The queen held the tiny prince in her lap, his wispy dark curls dancing in the breeze as he happily gummed his fist, making faint cooing sounds.

The picturesque scene worked through Ahkmenrah with a dizzying surge of glee, causing his lips to part in a radiant smile and his usually mindful gait to fumble as he descended the steps into the garden. Nouke watched his charming blunder with a chuckle and greeted him with a supremely more radiant grin that almost made him stumble again seeing its beauty.

The delight on her face waned however when the queen caught sight of Kahmunrah trailing a step behind her husband. She did her best to mask the sharp distaste, but Ahk caught it anyway.

After three months with no cause for alarm, Ahkmenrah had hoped Nouke would see Kah as the man he’d become rather than the one he used to be. Ahk understood her distrust, it was justifiable. Still, he longed for her to let go of the past, the same way Kah learned to do.

“My love,” Ahk bent to greet his queen with a long kiss before placing a gentle peck to the top of his son’s head, and seated himself across from them at the table.

“Hello, love,” she hummed, once again casting him in the light of her radiant smile, making a point to ignore Kahmunrah completely.

“We missed you,” she mused, gently combing her fingers through Sekmen’s curls adoringly. “Didn’t we, my little prince?”

As if he’d understood, Sek cooed loudly with a chuckle and reached across the table towards his father. Ahkmenrah beamed and reached too, until his son’s tiny hand wrapped around one of his fingers.

“I always miss you both whenever I’m not with you,” Ahk said marveling at his family.

“Well,” Kahmunrah announced and the suddenness made Ahk jump having forgotten his brother was still there. “I will leave the king and queen—as well as the little prince—to their meal. There are a few things that require my attention before the council meeting.”

Ahkmenrah’s brows knit together, wondering what business Kah had that didn’t concern the pharaoh.

“It’s trivial, brother,” Kah answered vaguely, reading the look of puzzlement on Ahk’s face, and waved his hand with a dismissive flair signaling the end of that particular thought.

“Until tonight's meeting,” he bowed to his younger brother, and again as he addressed Nouke. “My queen.”

She turned her head to ignore him until he laid a gentle pat to the top of Sekmen’s head as he spoke, “Nephew.”

Kah bid them all with another bow and made his leave without another word. Nouke’s eyes watched him go with a predatorial intensity—a lioness protecting her cub—as the once relaxed lines of her body suddenly became rigid and fierce.

Ahkmenrah had difficulty quelling the discouraging sigh that escaped him; perhaps not all aspects of his life were without tension.

“I’m sorry,” Nouke said quickly, some of the fire draining from her expression, however her distrust was still palpable.

“You don’t have to apologize," Ahk promised as his eyes fell to the table.

For all the wrong Kahmunrah had done to him; he'd done worse to Nouke. The wounds he inflicted upon her were worse than most, and time may never be enough to heal them. Ahkmenrah longed for peace in his family, but he feared Nouke would never be able to find that peace.

“I wish you would have ordered Medjay to watch him,” she expressed as gently as she could.

“To spy on him, you mean. “ Ahk did his best to swallow the abrupt influx of frustration regarding the topic; he didn’t want it to bleed into his tone and spoil their evening together.

Spies were deceitful, no matter how useful, and he wasn’t going to betray his brother’s trust like that.

“If spies are what it’s going to take to keep you safe—to keep our son safe.” She countered, fire engulfing her tone, making it clear that Ahk had unsuccessfully masked his own ire.

The pharaoh’s eyes rose from the surface of the table to watch the little boy in his wife’s arms; so small and innocent, once more gnawing on his balled fist. Sekmen was blissfully untainted by the evils of the world, and Ahk wanted him to stay that way forever.

Ahkmenrah sighed again, this time in defeat of his own principle; he would gladly become the master of deceit and lies if it meant Sekmenrah and Nouke would be safe.

“I know how long you have wished Kahmunrah to be your brother—that was one of the only things I remember you wanting as a boy.” Nouke’s tone turned soft, and she reached across the table to take his hand with a smile.

“Just promise me, Ahk.”

He met her eyes hearing the urgency and plea in her tone.

“Promise me you won’t let that childhood wish blind you.” There was a glimmer of doubt manifesting in the mist glistening in her eyes, as though she feared he would disavow her request.

Ahk placed his other hand over their joined one, meeting her gaze with a soft intensity he hoped was telling of his vow.

“I promise.”

The mist dissolved in her eyes as relief cast a lightness over her features. All the tension that threatened to sully the air between them drifted away the moment his promise passed his lips.

The remainder of their afternoon progressed quickly with a flurry of tender touches and musings of the youth they shared in the garden in which they sat. By the time duty beckoned the pharaoh back into the halls of the palace, Ahkmenrah’s heart was feather-light and beating with loving fervor as he made his way to the council chamber.

The levity of the evening was snuffed out much too quickly.

Something ominous hung in the air of the council chamber; something thick and rotten and odious. It was a sense that, in all his years, Ahkmenrah had never had the misfortune of experiencing. It clung to his skin like a greasy film, and he could feel its urgency in the abrupt way all the whispers hushed the moment his advisors saw him. Their sudden silence was entirely too loud.

Ahk could see it—whatever it was—in the collective of their dark, unblinking eyes; every pair laden with such dismay, they effectively dissolved all the remaining joy left for the pharaoh to anchor himself to.

Ahkmenrah froze only a few steps over the threshold, finding the dense air to be an invisible web difficult to maneuver under such scrutiny. His father alone seemed immune to the force that plagued the atmosphere, looking more pensive than usual.

“Why do you all look so forlorn?” Ahkmenrah asked in a careful tone he hoped wasn’t telling of his swiftly growing concern.

He wanted a quick answer, one that would rapidly thwart the anxiety brewing in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he was met with a wave of shared glances that swept around the long table, moving from man to man, making it obvious no one wanted to impart the unmistakably bad news.

Their mutual hesitance only made the situation feel more grievous and Ahk tightened his jaw, reinforcing his kingly façade. How fitting it was to have a day of carefree whim close on something portentous.

Finally, after he gauged all the men with an imploring expression, his father spoke.

“Please sit, my king. There is much that needs to be discussed.” Merenkahre’s features were guarded and difficult to make out. The only clue Ahk could derive from his father's face was the deep, ever-ponderous crease on his brow, indicating that something in the realm was, indeed, off.

Without a word, Ahk fixed himself at his usual place at the head of the table and gave a nod and a wave of his hand for them to begin their briefing.

The meeting progressed as it usually did, normal business of the crown that was dealt with every day; examined and discussed thoroughly, before moving on to the next issue. Everything felt tedious with something looming threateningly out of sight. All the new—old—topics brought to attention only delayed whatever lurked in the shadows of the room, and time felt frozen because of it.

By the time the unknown issue was brought to the light, Ahk’s nerves felt keenly exposed and on fire; his fingers all but clawing at the surface of the table.

The man who stood to speak was much older than most who sat on the pharaoh’s council. He was slender and his skin was wrinkled all over. His head held no hair, but his gray eyebrows were long and wiry and telling of his age.

Ahkmenrah had known him since he was a child; Merhet had been the Grand Consul for two pharaohs: Merenkahre, and Merenkahre’s father. When Ahk was crowned, the old man stepped down to allow Meren to take his place to help guide his son. Ahkmenrah repaid his loyalty by granting him the seat as Consul of Thoth; the pharaoh’s procurer of whispers and wisdom to help benefit the whole of Egypt.

How such knowledge came to Merhet; Ahk was unsure: spies—he figured, and the notion made him sigh.

It was rare Merhet had cause to speak, which usually meant all was right in Egypt's corner of the world, and when he stood from his chair, the pharaoh felt his stomach churn uneasily.

“Speak your peace, friend,” Ahkmenrah encouraged kindly when the man met him with a questioning glance.

Merhet bowed respectfully before he spoke. “My king, as your Consul of Thoth, it is my duty to inform you of happenings within your great empire.”

Ahkmenrah nodded, imploring him to go on with an attentive stare.

“I am sorry to bring you a troubling report, but it seems there are whispers of a possible uprising in the nation to our south.”

Ahk swallowed the lump that grew in his throat quickly before it could choke him and kept his sight focused on Merhet.

“The Nehesyw?” he asked calmly.

Merhet nodded. “Yes. As you know, it is from them that we mine our gold and a few other precious resources…”

The pharaoh’s eyes glanced tentatively, suddenly all too aware of the number of riches in only that room.

“…it seems they are tired of most of their land's riches coming to Egypt,” Merhet concluded.

Ahkmenrah’s focus fell to the wood grain of the table as his mind began to flood with thoughts of dread. The only promise to come from revolution was suffering, no matter what outcome was reached; someone would be made to suffer. Of all his duties as ruler, war, and waging it were the ones he feared most.

“These are just rumors,” Merenkahre said sternly, dispelling some anxiety. “My friend, you had us all under the impression that the Nehesyw were already taking up arms against us.”

Ahk’s blinking eyes turned to his father, seeing the calm air of his features and wished he could harness a fraction of that resolve.

“From who was it you heard these rumors?” Ahkmenrah asked, mimicking his father’s steady tone.

Merhet shifted uneasily where he stood, and his eyes scanned over all the men at the table, lingering on Kahmunrah as he thought.

“My—uh—network, your majesty," he said vaguely.

A somewhat irritated simper twisted onto Kah’s features; displeased by the answer.

“Your network? Please, elaborate.” Kah’s tone was harsh, but softened when he added, “Help us to understand.”

The room turned its collective eyes to Merhet for an answer.

“Merchants," he said quickly as though he’d made it up.

“Merchants?" Ahkmenrah repeated, eye's narrowing.

Something else felt off; like there was a piece of his story he was keeping to himself. The idea made the atmosphere even more unsettling, but in a different manner that was equally as foreboding.

“Yes, my king.” The old man nodded, this time sounding more sure. “They are employed to bring goods directly from the Nehesywian markets to the palace. They returned this morning with these whispers.”

Merhet’s eyes looked shamefully away from the pharaoh, clearly, there was more he wanted to say but feared to.

“What else?” Ahk demanded firmly but without aggression.

The Consul of Thoth met the pharaoh’s intense gaze for only a moment before his head fell again, apologetically.

“Forgive me, my king. But the Nehesyw also speak of you. They say the pharaoh is weak, and so must be his nation.”

Weak?

The word screamed in the back of Ahkmenrah’s mind until it grew so loud all his other thoughts were scoured away. Only one other person had ever claimed him to be a weak ruler, and the pharaoh’s eyes settled upon his brother. Suddenly, Nouke’s words and distrust began to scream just as loudly in his mind, and Ahk’s stomach twisted with knots.

Kahmunrah sneered, “Enough of this,” and ordered Merhet to sit back in his seat; coming to his brother’s defense in a timely fashion that deterred a bit of Ahk’s trepidation.

“Kahmunrah is right; I've heard enough,” Merenkahre stated with a finality that split the discomfort of the room.

“These are rumors,” he stressed, engaging every man at the table with intensity. “We will treat them as such, and nothing more.”

He turned to Merhet, kindness softening his eyes as he spoke. “We will look to your wisdom to keep us informed on these whispers—should they grow; we will move forward. Until then, I urge you to gauge them without panic. We could have started a war today over mere speculation.”

“Could we fight them?” Ahk asked, genuine curiosity and a tangible sense of dread driving the question past his lips.

His father’s stormy eyes shifted to him as he considered the answer carefully—the hesitation alone seemed to be the answer. If his reply was more than yes, then the answer had to be no.

“The Nehesyw are a savage people, their armies know no order. Were they civilized, they could take this city in a matter of days. Men, women, and children are all trained to fight, they outnumber the soldiers here at the capital three to one. But, they lack discipline, which is their downfall in the field.”

Ahkmenrah did his best to absorb all the information his father threw at him, unable to articulate a reply as his mind did its best to make sense of everything.

War—the word loomed like a dark cloud in his head making all rational thoughts veiled and difficult to find. The idea of blood on his hands was one that instilled him with such shame and remorse, tears were already threatening to swell in his eyes.

However, on the opposite side of the scale sat his people and his family; potential victims for their potential invaders. For them, Ahkmenrah would fight endlessly to protect all he cared about, no matter the consequences. He would endure a thousand battles, spill rivers and oceans of blood if doing so meant keeping them out of harm's way.

“Perhaps we should shore up our defenses as a precaution?” Kahmunrah suggested.

Before Ahkmenrah could respond, Merenkahre shot down the idea, “No.”

Ahk threw a quizzical look to his father.

Merenkahre had taught him many lessons: how to strategize war, however, was not one of them. Had Ahk been wiser in his youth, he would have urged his father to impart such knowledge to him, but he didn't, and now he felt lost. The pharaoh was at the mercy of those smarter than him.

“It would be unwise to do so,” Meren said, looking to his oldest son. “If word were to travel that the capital is gathering forces—that could be misconstrued as an act of war. It is important to carry on as usual.”

Merenkahre turned his sights to Ahkmenrah, “That is what a wise king would do.”

Ahkmenrah nodded quickly, wholly unfit to argue.

Kah sounded an irritated huff as his face contorted into a familiar guise Ahk could recall much too easily. Again, Nouke’s distrust drifted into the front of his mind, the sudden bout of alarm tightening the knots in his stomach.

He has changed. He is a better man. He is my brother.

Ahkmenrah took a slow breath as his mind repeated the chant in an attempt to alleviate the sour feeling in his gut.

He has changed. He is a better man. He is my brother.

***

The journey back to his chamber was one Ahkmenrah ventured countless times: a brief, pleasurable trek through open breezeways by lush gardens and through artful corridors that, on most days, treated him with a jubilant soulfulness that made all the worldly pressures seem to fade away. However, as his feet moved across the stone floor on that particular trip, he found the scenery did not coddle him as it usually did.

The newfound—dreadfully precarious—weight he carried on his shoulders wilted his regal posture, his head hanging pensively. He knew it was going to take more than a meditative walk to remedy his spirit; a notion itself that added to the burden upon him.

Ahk let his steps fall slower until his pace was more of a tired shuffle than a kingly gait as he fought to compel the tension out of his muscles and the anxiety out of his heart and head. He didn’t want his concern to bleed into the hours he devoted to his family while duty slept—those were joys he was most unwilling to sacrifice.

By the time he found himself at his chamber doors, Ahkmenrah wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after his lengthened stroll. Or, perhaps, he found himself in limbo: stuck somewhere between the two, which was hardly encouraging.

“Goodnight, my king,” Kamuzu bid him with a bow.

He didn’t turn to leave right away, instead, the king's guardian lingered, watching Ahkmenrah with a parental vigilance that fostered a glimmer of comfort.

“Thank you for another day of loyalty. I bid you rest well, my friend,” Ahk told him with a half-smile to show his gratefulness.

The Medjay bowed once more, and as he left, Ahkmenrah caught the tail end of a similar grin on Kamuzu’s features. The exchange was quick but heartened enough to combat some of the pharaoh’s dismay.

As his hand lingered on the door of his room, Ahk took in a deep breath to help bring him peace and bid both the Medjay standing guard a goodnight as he entered.

The air of the chamber almost instantly drove that peace home. It was like stepping into a dream; the atmosphere was light, not suffocating as the council chamber had been, and Ahkmenrah filled his lungs to compacity over and over until he became lightheaded and high from the clarity.

Only a few of the wall torches were lit, their luminescence casting a calming glow over the space that was warm and inviting, helping the pharaoh relax. He stood soaking in, and savoring every delicate sense until the encumbrance of the past few hours drifted away.

Quietly, Ahk rid himself of his ornate accessories, placing his crown upon the table at the center of the room, leaving the majority of his gold and incrusted garments in a heedless pile. His spirit lightened with every layer he shed until all that remained was his belt and shendyt.

For a moment, he reveled in the freedom—the feeling of being wonderfully human—without the glittering raiment to remind him of the woefully burdened god-king he was.

As he stood, tiny snores caught his ears and prompted his lips to curl into a smile. With a glance, Ahkmenrah found his son fast asleep in his cradle under a protective beam of Khonsu’s light. The sight instilled the pharaoh with eagerness, drawing his feet across the floor in fluid movements until he stood crib-side, utterly captivated by the beautiful boy he and Nouke had created with their love.

Sekmenrah stirred, his chubby arms and legs stretching, but too deep in his slumber to wake even when his father swept an admiring finger over the boy’s soft cheek.

The amount of love in Ahk’s heart for his son was entirely too much to comprehend. He was certain his destined path was not to be pharaoh but to be a father. Being a father meant more to Ahkmenrah than any crown or any empire in the whole world.

A content sigh fell from his lips as the last of his worry dissolved into a tingling warmth that spread throughout his being, soothing his body, mind, and soul. He always found tranquility in the sanctity of his chamber, with his family.

He lingered at his son’s side, watchful and admiring, until a breeze caressed the bare skin of his back and shoulders, bringing with it the faint scent of lily, myrrh, and cinnamon. The fragrance tickled his senses with allure and pulled his smile tighter across his face, recognizing the perfume his wife favored.

Ahkmenrah spun to find her standing on the balcony, gazing out over the city with her back to him. She too had rid herself of the finery that made her a queen, leaving only the colorful linen of her dress, cinched at her waist with a simple gold braided rope. Wind tussled her long, dark hair and the light fabric she wore, causing it to hug each of her curves in such a way that made the pharaoh’s mouth water.

Nouke was radiant under the silvery luminescence of the moon. Each time Ahk gazed upon her, his heart skipped, and he was rendered breathless—dizzy with affection. He glided effortlessly to her, hypnotized by her silent siren call. And when he wove his arms around her, pressing into the strong line of her back, Ahkmenrah was certain he’d never felt more at peace.

With a heartened hum, he nestled and cherished her closeness. At that moment, the world stood still while the edges of reality blurred into a fog until they were the only two beings in the entire universe.

Ahk buried his nose in the hollow of her neck, letting the fragrant smell of her skin, and its softness under the tip of his nose infuse with his senses. His lips came to rest on that nectary hollow, unable to quell the need to kiss her sweet-smelling flesh. He hummed again, profoundly content.

“I missed you,’ he mused pulling her closer as he laid more kisses across her neck and shoulder.

Nouke hummed too as her hands came to rest over his, tilting her head to grant him a wider canvas to paint with his tender lips.

“As have I, my king,” Nouke murmured as one of her hands reached to grasp and tangle in the curls on his head.

Ahk purred, emboldened by the gesture, and the tug she gave caused a pleasurable warmth to shoot through him.

His hips rolled against her rear, an involuntary reaction to the fire pulsing in his veins, but his queen responded with another soft yank to his curls and a wanton sigh that encouraged every movement. Ahk drew his tongue over the taught column of her neck, suckling the skin behind her ear until she sighed again.

“The council kept you from me longer than usual,” she said idly as the undulation of her hips met his until his body froze with the reminder of the reality beyond the fog.

Nouke’s hand left his scalp, falling to cradle his arms wrapped around her.

“Is everything alright?” There was concern in her voice, and for a moment Ahk was too lost in the way her fingertips swept calming patterns over his skin—coaxing him out of the darkness she’d blindly summoned—to answer.

“For the time being," Ahkmenrah decided on, not wanting to ruin the tranquility he felt with Nouke in his arms.

She spun lithely in his grasp, never severing their closeness to look at him with smoldering amber eyes filled to the brim with compassion.

“Ahk…” she said imploringly, resting fingers along his jaw as her eyes searched his for reasoning of the shadow that plagued him. “Tell me.”

As much as he wanted to forget about the situation that threatened Egypt for a while longer, the pharaoh could not keep things from his queen.

“There have been rumors from the south. The Nehesyw talk of rebellion.”

The furrow on her thin brows pressed deeper with concern, and her hands fell open-palmed to his chest as he continued to hold her close.

“Rebellion?” Though she did her best to hide it from him, fear danced like flames behind her eyes.

A pang of anguish bit into Ahk seeing that frightened flash.

“Do not worry, my love,” he assured her in as light of a tone as he could manage, tucking stray locks of hair behind her ear. “For now, they are simply rumors. My men are keeping their ears open for changes should they come.”

A frown turned her lips to match the fear in her eyes, “Is there nothing more being done?”

Ahkmenrah sighed, wishing there was more to put her at ease.

“Kahmunrah suggested we shored up our defenses here in the capital, but my father said doing so may make us appear to be readying for battle, which in turn could provoke them.”

Nouke’s focus grew distant, but her thoughts drifted over her features clear enough to witness in the light of the moon. Finally, she nodded, her fear becoming only a smolder.

“Your father is right.”

“I hope so.” The pharaoh could hear his own uncertainty as he spoke. “He is far more knowledgeable when it comes to matters such as these.”

Ahk paused to consider all that he had learned, and not learned, as Nouke wove herself around him in a tight embrace. Instinctively, his arms enveloped her in return.

“Even my brother understands these matters better than I,” he admitted, suddenly feeling every ounce the weak king his enemies thought him to be, and he tightened his hold on Nouke.

They stayed wrapped in each other’s reassuring arms for a long while until the edges of reality began to blur once more, and the previous levity settled into the atmosphere. Nouke pulled away first, just enough to meet his eyes.

“Speaking of your brother, I have been thinking about what we spoke of earlier.” She took a deep breath to steady herself, as though what she was about to say warranted more effort than normal.

“You know I trust you completely.” She swallowed and took one final breath. “So, if you trust Kahmunrah, then perhaps it is time I learn to trust him as well.”

The look in her eyes betrayed her heartened tone. The air fell thickly silent between them as a knot formed in Ahkmenrah’s stomach. The gaze with which she held him begged for him to let her recant.

Ahkmenrah had so longed to have unity within the whole of his family. Nouke knew that—he knew she knew that. She stood willing to disregard her own prejudice and learn to trust a man she so strongly detested for all he had done to her family, all out of the love she harbored for him—a true testament to that love. It was selfless, which made it undoubtedly greedy for him to let her walk a path she only thought she could weather. It was wiser to continue as they were.

The pharaoh was torn; his words stained his tongue, unable to come out, as his mind was suddenly too overworked to process any more uncertainty.

“Okay,” he whispered finally.

The moment he spoke it; he was only too aware of how weak his one-word reply sounded fumbling from his lips. Even worse was the tangible disappointment in his queen’s eyes when she smiled at him. It was a momentary flicker—a blink, and you’ll miss it moment—but Ahkmenrah caught it, and his heart sank.

“I love you,” she reassured him after a moment of more melancholy quiet.

The smile she held then was genuine and comforting, and Ahk matched it.

“I love you,” he echoed, and she kissed him until all the uncertainty left them both.

The pharaoh drew his queen closer, letting the tips of her fingers press into his chest, drowning himself in every sensation of her until all the wickedness of his day was burned out of his mind. The billow of her breathless cry over his moist lips prompted a chill, encouraging him, and Ahk threaded his fingers through her hair to hold her in place.

He kissed her slowly and without urgency, and Nouke mimicked the lazy give and take; as if to memorize the very essence of the tender moment—the taste, the feel, the passion. Both were completely present for the methodical play of the other’s lips as their dance built to a perfect crescendo.

Nouke leaned into her king like he was the air, and she was gasping, and he was only too willing to grant her everything she desperately needed. The glide of his tongue over her plump lower lip caused her mouth to open with a hungry sound Ahkmenrah muffled with his own. His hands drifted from her scalp to explore every curve—his lips and tongue still drinking languidly from her giving mouth.

Her hips were soft under his fingertips, and they lingered there, pressing possessively, before scaling the ladder of her ribs—each rise and dip subtle under the thin fabric of her gown. Mentally Ahk counted each bone as his hands worked towards her breasts. Eagerly he palmed their new fullness, filling each hand as he stopped to squeeze them gently before continuing on until he found the straps fixated loosely on her shoulders.

His mouth moved to the angle of her jaw, suckling the hinge he cajoled a soft moan from his wife’s lips, and again when he artfully guided the top of her dress from her shoulders. The blissfully wanton sound caused his features to crook into a prideful smirk against her warm flesh as he blazed a trail of kisses down her stately neck.

Nouke’s breath hitched with a shaky whimper as the night air prickled over her chest in a wave of goosebumps upon the sudden exposure. Her body acted of its own volition, arching into him, and the feel of her breasts against his chest made the pharaoh’s cock twitch with anticipation.

He wanted her—he always wanted her. How long had it been since he truly had her? Buried himself deep inside of her until there was nothing but stars left to color both of their vision? It felt like ages.

When her hands found his scalp once more, the tips of her fingers massaging and scratching and pulling, he groaned from deep in his chest as his mind clouded with a lustful need. Ahkmenrah’s hand traveled to find her breasts, pausing only a moment to once again delight in their new fullness, wonderfully unobstructed by the fabric of her dress.

As his lips latched to her collarbone, he pinched the pert peak of her nipple between his second and third finger, grinning as her lewd cry met his ears. Hands tugged firmly in his hair in retaliation and Ahk bit the rise of her clavicle to keep from moaning too loudly.

Heat pooled lower, blood rushing to his center with every soft groan and accompanying gentle friction.

A shiver worked through his queen when the tips of his finger danced up her spine as he guided her backward until they bounced against the wide rail that kept them from falling to the garden below. The moment their eyes met, a lecherous smile pulled at each of their features. Without need for a demand, Nouke wrapped her arms around his neck as he easily lifted her onto the flat, stone wall.

Her legs locked around him, pulling him against her for a searing kiss that found her gasping. When their lips parted, Ahk’s kisses continued in a line down her throat and the center of her chest, sweet but sloppy. His tongue swept at the underside of her breast, trailing over her nipple and all the way to the base of her neck, provoking her to sound a moan that Ahkmenrah felt vibrate through himself.

With his hands and mouth (and no small amount of enthusiasm) he mapped every part of her exposed flesh: from the lobes of her ears to the middle of her abdomen where the rope at her waist kept the rest of her gown from falling away. He knew every sweet spot that never failed to coax a flurry of sinful sounds past her kiss swollen lips; every dip, swell and curve were an instrument he had mastered with avidity and loved more each time he played.

Nouke’s nails scraped over his shoulders, leaving marks he would wear with pride come the morning before trailing to fist the curls on his head once more—pressing his face firmer against her chest.

She arched against him—gasping—when he rounded a nipple with his teeth, before laving it with his tongue. Her nails scratched down his back and against his shoulder, every part of him she could reach. And when his eyes met hers, he found fire: a raw, unguarded lust in them that sent a wave of arousal straight to his groin.

“Ahk…” she breathed into his mouth as she pulled him to her lips again.

The cry of his name wasn’t a question, but a wanton demand that saw him reaching under her dress in search of her sweet center. He beamed with an arrogant delight when he found the skin of her inner thighs slick and coated with arousal.

She was quick to kiss his smirk away with her own pompous simper, her hands working down the lean plates of his body. The hunger of her kiss he matched with equal vigor and desperation. As he drank from her lips, the heat of her skin increased and exhaled a wild, untamed fragrance that was profoundly more intoxicating than any oil or perfume.

They moaned each other's name in a worshipful praise, both craving the inexplicably euphoric closeness of becoming one, yet; neither was willing to cease the pleasurable teasing.

When his hands drifted closer to her heat, her hands swept further down his torso, the slow build causing him to strain the fabric of his shendyt. He could feel Nouke’s fingers working to untie his belt, the involuntary sweep of them against his aching hardness making him hiss and bite his lip. The pharaoh’s entire body was on fire and teeming with anticipation as both their fingers inched closer, ready to offer pleasure and relief.

Then, a fussy cry from inside their chamber sobered both the king and queen almost instantly.

Ahkmenrah’s breath caught on a bereft huff, cursing with a ragged exhale. Nouke sighed too, with a soft, lorn chuckle, drawing her husband's head against her chest to soothe his obvious disappointment.

“I couldn’t get him to nurse before I put him to bed,” she confessed, sounding just as dissatisfied as he felt.

“He’s probably hungry.” Her lips moved against his scalp as she spoke, punctuating each word with a gentle kiss.

“Mmm, I’m hungry too,” Ahk quipped, and he felt her lips smile.

“Later, my love.” Nouke held his face in her hands looking deep into his eyes. “Later.”

Ahkmenrah steadied himself with a long breath, listening to his son’s cries grow louder. It was a few minutes before either of them worked themselves out of the haze well enough to move again.

“I’ll go and get him,” Ahk said, throwing Nouke his most charming smile and kissed her in parting.

Despite the interruption, the pharaoh grinned at his fussy boy, whose tiny arms were flailing and begging for attention. The moment he spoke the boy’s name; big blue eyes stared up at him, wide and inquisitive as his sobs faded into soft whimpers.

“How dare you interrupt your king,” Ahkmenrah scolded gently as he picked up the boy. “A prince should know better.”

Sekmen’s whimpers turned to coos as Ahk sauntered back to the balcony.

“You get that from your mother, you know. Your rebellious spirit.”

Sek smiled at his father’s comment, a tiny chuckle parting his lips, as though he’d understood his father’s teasing.

“When was I ever rebellious?” Nouke retorted with a playful tone.

Ahk bit his bottom lip as he smiled, “I can think of a time or two.”

Nouke rolled her eyes fondly and reached for the bundle in Ahkmenrah’s arms, “Come here, my little prince.”

Sekmen cooed happily as she snuggled him to her breast.

The pharaoh found he could do nothing but watch; lips curled into a dreamy smile, completely overcome with love. Nouke had always taken his breath away, but under the veil of midnight, with their child in her arms, she was the most achingly beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes upon.

“What?” Nouke murmured when she caught him admiring.

His reply didn’t come right away, instead he paused to sweep a delicate touch through his son’s hair.

“I just love you both, so much.” His mind was suddenly fraught with the dreadful outcomes of war.

“The thought of losing either of you…”

“Don’t,” Nouke stopped him firmly, running a finger along his jaw, tilting his chin, so he could share her gaze. “Whatever these rumors or threat grows to be; we will get through it together.”

A glimmer of sadness and fear sparkled in her eyes accompanied with a seriousness he understood.

“Because I can’t lose you either, Ahkmenrah. I simply cannot.”

“You won't."

Once the prince was nestled in his bed, the king and queen made love, and made love again; then after they had made love once more—quiet and passionate and without thought—then, like how the sun sank into the horizon, they fell into a deep slumber free of dread and quandary.

Next Chapter-> Chapter Twenty: Blinded

#Ahkmenrah #Ahkmenrah x Original Character #Ahkmenrah Fanfiction #Night at the Museum #NATM #NATM Fanfiction #Left to Ruin #Rami Malek Character #Rami Malek Character Fanfiction #Rami Malek Fanfiction #Rami Malek

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k-s-morgan · 4 years

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Love your tomarry fics. I also follow your thoughts on Merlin, and I was inspired by your posts to jump on the Hannibal wagon. I liked it, it's weird and beautiful but I am still confused with the characters. Which moment did Will decide to support Hannibal in season 2 is blurry to me, he was playing along nicely I seem to be missing which moment did he honestly like/love Hannibal ! Will seemed to be angry and hating Hannibal is all I got :( Season 3 last scene was the only exception.

Part 2 of the question. I have also huge doubts about several things. Does Hannibal really 'love' Will in any capacity ? If yes then why did he abuse him relentlessly ? Does Will love him - He tries to catch him in s-2 but fails because he becomes disoriented when Abigail shows up. Then tries to kill him and finally gets married, Will seemed to love his wife and child a lot, then suddenly at the end he embraces Hannibal.

Final question - minor doubts. What meat did Will bring to Hannibal ? Because Freddie was later not-dead :D ! How did Hannibal not recognise the meat as not-human ? I think it's a plothole. Once I watched the series I ended up shipping Alana with Will, the two kindred souls.

---------------------------

Hello! Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed my story, and it’s great that you decided to watch this show)) That said, I do think you need to watch it again! It’s a complex one, and many people realize its nuances only after several re-watches.

Will never hated Hannibal. Even in the first half of S2, when he was feeling betrayed and thought Hannibal doesn’t care about him, he couldn’t bring himself to feel hatred. He says as much to Peter in E8, admitting that he envies him his hate because killing Hannibal would have been much easier if he hated him. Hannibal is the only person who understands Will. You mentioned Alana, but she and Will are absolutely incompatible. Will craves normalcy, but he isn’t a normal person, and his feelings for Alana were only ever superficial, considering how he acts toward her and how he doesn’t give a damn about her at all in S3, easily risking her life. Alana was a socially acceptable potential partner, but she didn’t have what Will needed: darkness, the ability to understand it, and willingness to accept it in Will.

When Will is released from prison, he makes a plan to entrap Hannibal, but he’s drawn to him more and more. He’s genuine in most of their discussions, such as the ones about their loneliness, Will’s love for murder, darkness as a concept, etc. Will doesn’t take chances to arrest Hannibal when he can because he enjoys being with him too much. He set him up to be killed by Mason, but when his death became the real possibility, he changed his mind and saved him. Then he covered for him by lying to Jack - they agreed Will would arrest Hannibal when he tried to kill Mason, but Will did and said nothing. Will fully chose Hannibal in S2 finale when he called him. This is how he explains it later:

Will: I wasn’t decided when I called him. I just called him. I decided when I heard his voice. I told him to leave because I wanted him to run. Because he was my friend... and because I wanted to run away with him.

So, Will didn’t become disoriented after seeing Abigail. He already chose Hannibal and he wanted him to leave. He rushed to his house and took out a gun after hearing Jack is inside - he never pointed it at him. He directly tells Hannibal:

Will: You were supposed to leave!

Will chose Hannibal but it was too late, and he got his heart broken just like he broke Hannibal’s. He also dreams about murdering Jack with Hannibal as the version of his perfect world. Will has always been a closeted killer, and Hannibal gives him the freedom to be who he is. Will admits it further in S3:

Will: I’ve never known myself as well as I know myself when I’m with him.

In E2 of S3, Will keeps talking to himself about how much he wants to go to Hannibal still, how he shouldn’t have lied to him, and how they should have left together. He forgives him, he appreciates his gift (a Valentine heart), and he’s trying to find him. This episode is a huge love confession from Will to Hannibal. His attitude begins to change only after he meets Chiyoh and Bedelia, thinking he has been replaced and getting bitter and angry again.

I’m curious, in what scenes did you feel like Will loved Molly and Walter? Because his marriage is deliberately shown as weak. He and Molly share about two nice scenes where they are smiling and laughing, but other than that, there is no closeness. Will doesn’t go fishing with them, even though he loves it and dreamed of doing it with Abigail; he doesn’t return Molly’s “I love you”; he doesn’t initiate physical contact with her, which is a contrast to his behavior toward Hannibal, and he leaves her at the first opportunity. We know he never told her the truth about who he is - she easily jokes about him having the criminal mind, having no idea how dark and dangerous this topic is for Will, who delights in murder and who killed, mutilated, and ate people (bringing and cooking the meat of one of them with Hannibal willingly). He reunites with Hannibal at the first chance and he leaves Molly and Walter after the attack, concentrating on his feelings for Hannibal instead. He plots with Francis, who tried to kill Molly and Walter, and leaks information about the transfer to him, setting loose two dangerous killers at once - killers who targeted his family. It’s not something Will cares about, which proves how cold and self-centered he usually is. Molly and Walter come from nowhere (we have no idea how they met, how their relationship developed, etc.) and they disappear when their use runs out.

Hannibal loves Will with all his heart. He sacrifices his reputation, freedom, and life for him. He didn’t abuse him, although his S1 behavior may indeed be seen as such. From the start, Hannibal’s intention was to help Will Become, accepting his real self. He used his illness in S1 to blur his self-control and make him understand who he is. Starting with S2, when Will’s aware of everything, Hannibal is the one being manipulated. He’s loyal to Will - the only times he hurts him happen after Will hurts him first, like in S2 finale or in E6 of S3. Their relationship is mutually violent. But Hannibal learns from his mistakes sooner. By E7 of S3, he realizes he doesn’t want to live without Will, so he admits Will’s victory over him and gives himself up, hoping that one day, Will is going to choose him, too. He agrees to his TWOTL plan despite knowing it might involve his death, shields Will from the bullet, and allows him to push them down. He stays with him after they survive and they hunt Bedelia together.

Will brought Hannibal’s Randall’s meat, so it’s not a plot hole. We saw him store his butchered parts in his fridge.

If you’re interested, you can see more about the evolution of Will’s feelings for Hannibal and Hannibal’s love for Will here https://k-s-morgan.tumblr.com/post/618023666166464512/wills-vs-hannibals-ways-of-expressing-love.

Hope that clears up things a bit!

#hannibal #will graham #hannigram

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nettlestonenell · 4 years

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Armie Hammer wants a sequel to The Man From U.N.C.L.E.—shouldn’t you?

This post is a long time in coming, Gentle Readers and @jammeke, but now, though it might be here, before your very eyes, to think it will be well-laid out would be a mistake. It’s set to be just about as messy as Ilya’s misplaced loyalties and murky motivations.

How dare!

I probably first watched this film well over a year ago (courtesy @jammeke posting things about it). I used Sling OnDemand (I think on TNT). In the ensuing viewings I also watched it in that way, but as I was sitting down for a fourth(?) viewing, it kept coming to me that I was tired of watching it with commercials I couldn’t skip, and I had a sneaking suspicion that it had been edited for time and I was missing out on scenes. [pointless aside: I was also watching the film in chunks, and never as a whole]

Where is she now? What’s the time stamp? How far along did she get? Are you shagging the hotel hostess yet?

So, I, uh, set out to buy it on DVD—without any luck! In the sense that copies I could find cost more (w/ shipping) than buying it to stream. So, I bought it to stream on Amazon. Do I regret my choice, Gentle Readers? No, no I don’t. I do regret burden of knowledge in learning that TNT was already playing the entirety of the film. That was a hard pill to swallow.

Nope, I’ve looked. That’s absolutely everything. Nothing additional lurking around here...

So here it is, as it is, @jammeke, “My Notes on The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”

Look, I don’t know what this film is. I probably can’t fully articulate its appeal. Or maybe I can--certainly after transcribing four page I’ve tried. Number One thing to know about me and fiction/films is that a top draw for me is seeing something out of the ordinary, such as beautiful locations, a historical era, delicious costumes. There are times, frankly, this can trump weak story and undefined character for me. (The best films, of course, combine all three) Certainly, The Man... delivers in the delight of the eyes. Additionally, I must confess that growing up as a person older than @reblogginhood but younger than Miss Fisher, so much of what was on TV was essentially reruns of this film’s iconic Look(tm). So, when I see women dressed like Gaby I am just another three-to-seven-year-old overcome with the drop dead glamour of it all.

Darling, tell me how you really feel...

Some questions I have:

· IS Armie Hammer a hulk of a man? Everyone in this film seems to think so, yet he always tracks to me as trim (rather than hulking)

· Why translate via captions some Russian speaking, but not all?

· IS Napoleon’s backstory directly cribbed from USA’s White Collar?

· DOES Gaby have a German accent?

· Does Ilya get preternaturally attached to all the people he’s ordered to look after? Also, what is his bonding rate with kittens?

Sorry, wrong iteration.

· If Lady Villain knows the lens is wrong—if her technical understanding is that in-depth--does she really need Gaby’s dad to make the bomb?

· How old was Gaby during the war?

· What happens when Ilya gets a NEW puppy assigned to him? (please let this be addressed in film #2)

Hooray for:

· That bathroom fight! *all the Burn Notice feels!

· Gaby is her own lady, and chooses sides as necessary—not always unilateral in her support for either male character. Case in point: she sides with Ilya over the clothes, and Napoleon over the incident of the wallet.

· That delicious (speaking as Rusty, here) Ocean’s 11-stylized action. It’s pretty, so I’m not bored with it. Sometimes a sandwiched montage gets shown, so I’m REALLY not bored. I’ve got 18 tiny moving boxes of things to look at!

· Pinkie rings. There, you’ve told me everything I need to know about that character.

· Solo in a beret. English has not yet found a word for the feeling it evoked in this viewer. Somewhere between ‘precious’ and ‘oh, no’.

See, there? Now you’ve felt it too.

· Goggles! All the accessories! Dune Buggies! (I mean, that’s what I’m calling Napoleon’s chase-scene ride)

Things I adore:

· It seems (after some research) that more than a few folks view Gaby as a third wheel, and though she’s not exactly a Princess Leia commandeering her own rescue and exuding competence and a deserved take-charge-attitude at every corner, she IS a foci for both male characters (though romantically it would seem only for one), just as Ilya is a foci for both her and Napoleon [no one seems to worry about Napoleon, though they should--film #2, anyone?]

· Mechanic Gaby not needing a beauty makeover, or being dragged into one. She gets some nice clothes, but it’s never suggested that she’s not attractive or acceptable before putting them on, and I respect, nay, embrace it.

Oh, my heart. She’s still not as tall as them!

· Ilya, drab pigeon Ilya, knowing fashion

· Oh man, don’t even get me started on the power of the statement, “it doesn’t have to match”

· You knew it was coming on this sublist: the wrestle-fight. I mean, c’mon. Poor little Gaby, locked behind the Iron Curtain, living a life of always being watched. She’s in the swankest hotel (I mean, Napoleon chose it, so we can be sure it’s swank with an E). She’s trying to celebrate her freedom, her liberation. She’s playing verboten music, she’s drinking to excess. Girl wants—and deserves—a party. And Ilya is…not built for that (that he knows of). For some fun, just imagine if she had been given Napoleon to room with instead.

o I will say that this scene, and some of their other interactions have what I would call early (non-sibling) Luke and Leia energy. Ilya seems to have moments of being struck by Gaby in a way Luke is struck by Leia in the early part of the trilogy. When Leia takes charge, and Luke accepts it. When Leia does something incredible, and Luke is left open-mouthed. *no, I don’t see OT Star Wars in everything. Shut up.

· “He fixed the glitch.”

· Again, shout-out to the non-action action.

· “I left my jacket in there.”

· The whole race to rescue Gaby I am in love with beyond words. [I have noted it as “Crazy Jeep Drive with Warhead!”] Probably b/c it comes across as totally egalitarian. Both men want her rescued. They’re no longer in competition. It’s just as important to Napoleon as it is to Ilya to catch up to her. Also, it is bonkers, like some sort of X-games version of a commercial for the vehicles they’re driving. And screaming Willie Scott does not make an appearance.

Someone says “winkle” out.

· Look! Another note about the screen divisions and how I love it, shout-outs to the original Steve McQueen The Thomas Crown Affair (a contemporary of when this movie is meant to be set), and TV’s 24.

Things that get a great, big NOPE:

· Jerrod Harris: you’ve been in so much streamable content in the last decade I can’t hate you, but frankly, you’re terrible here—unless you’re supposed to be giving a mannered, not-campy-enough-to-be-enjoyable performance here. Your American English puts me in the mind of Alex Hawaii 5-0′Loughlin where it feels you’re concentrating so hard on your accent that you fail to convince anyone that you’re a harried, over-worked and exasperated spy handler. Your performance is at odds with every bit of dialogue you’re given to say.

· That awful, mishandled title that doesn’t even connect to the film until the final moments (a sequel set-up, for sure)

· Look, you don’t introduce Hugh Grant casually mid-way through your film in a throwaway appearance. I mean, he’s HUGH GRANT we all know something’s up now.

· This is not exactly a great big NOPE, b/c I love a flat cap, Tommy Shelby—but I feel like a less tall man with a far rounder face in a flat cap would track more as Russian to me that AH does. To me, he just looks like he’s about to go golfing.

Over par? Unacceptable!

· Is Victoria a British-accented Italian? A British woman who married—what? Gaby’s uncle isn’t Italian!? An Italian who went to school in Britain? My head hurts. Also, is her hair meant to be unconvincingly bleached?

Other commentary:

· Napoleon’s adult ne’er-do-well backstory is so far from being emotionally equivalent to Ilya’s childhood trauma [and his enslavement to the USSR] it seems bestial when he calls it out on multiple occasions. Badly done, Solo.

· Gaby is the film’s key (sorry, Buffy fans). Everyone is connected to her. Yes, she could have been given a bit more on the character front, but I don’t see her as as much of a flaw in the film as some others/reviewers seem to.

· Look, essentially (and not very nuanced-ly), Ilya is a stalker. I think the film goes a certain distance in establishing that his early behavior toward Gaby is not normal, but concurrently it does not truly call him out on it. He’s essentially viewed as an odd-duck, sure, but not a true threat to her (should she not reciprocate or tolerate his intensity toward her). I think I might be able to cite his behavior when Gaby comes on to him (that he doesn’t jump at a chance with her) that maybe he’s given a little more nuance than a straight-on stalker, and it helps that he and Napoleon never get into a pissing match over Gaby’s person, only over her new clothes. But overall the film has to walk a fine line (and the jury is still out on how successful it is, I’d say) between playing Ilya’s laser-like attention to Gaby for its humor, and calling it out for the unsettling, threatening behavior it is.

· Honestly, it wasn’t until I engaged the Closed Captioning that I understood Napoleon was calling Ilya the ‘Red Peril’. So, that was nearly three viewings in.

· I give the screen credits A+, on both ends. Not to mention the end credits are actually INTERESTING with lots to see and learn! (Certainly we learn more about HG in them than we do at any time during the film)

Things I would have liked:

· More of fish-out-of-the-Iron-Curtain Gaby moments

· A better dichotomy shown of East vs. West Berlin/Germany. There’s nothing easy either visually or otherwise to distinguish the two.

· HC being given a more specific American accent (from an actual locality). This, for an American viewer, works better than the flat, unlocated American accent many a British actor will bust out. *Mind you, HC does a generally good job, but he fails utterly on both “Immediate” which he pronounces at least twice as “immeedeejt” [rather than imm-E-deeot] and “Nazi” as “NAHT-zee” [rather than “NOT-zee”]. And let’s not get started on that late in the film use of ‘earnt’, a word that—well, it’s just not in the American English twentieth century lexicon.

· C’mon. You gotta tease the Hugh Grant more.

· Solo is a blank before the war. I’ve read thoughts on the film calling out Gaby as the blank character, but they’re wrong. Solo is the blank. He’s the ‘made’ man, his identity seemingly assembled during the war and after. For example, he doesn’t go into the war a thief, nor (it would seem) a particularly educated or urbane individual. Now THAT’s a juicy backstory I’d love to learn about, perhaps in film #2--or #3? What creates a Napoleon Solo? What would he be doing if he weren’t on the government’s leash/incarcerated? Is anyone left caring about him back wherever he calls home? I mean, who doesn’t love a gender-flipped 60s-era Holly Golightly backstory? [And yes, I would love there to be an ex-wife or even a current wife mixed up in his origins as well—Guy Ritchie, call me!]

Notes I have that I’m not sure if they still make sense to me:

· Only mom calls me Napoleon (do he say it ‘mum’?) Is he a secret Canadian?

· Solo’s torture, 1st view recall Napoleon’s childhood? *I think this means that after watching the first time I somehow erroneously believed that during the torture Napoleon’s childhood was a topic gone over. This was wrong. HOWEVER, this would have made far more story-sense than the backstory we’re given on an easily disposeable villain.

· “Even the average Russian agent. You’re special.” ?

· Uncle is Baddie (*so glad I made this note to myself)

· Ilya’s dad IS an embarrassment. I’m not sure what genius commentary I had in my mind, here. Perhaps that Ilya himself is embarrassed of him? Not just Ilya’s handler’s? [Also, aside: Napoleon totally slut-shames Ilya’s mom, which is the doublest of double standards from ‘I got myself the biggest and most ornate suite b/c I-wanted-plenty-of-space-for-my-random-seductions’ and I really wish Ilya had thrown that back in his face] *yes, of course I know that Ilya and Napoleon would not likely equate a wife/mother’s sexual exploits with that of Solo’s, but let’s be honest, this film tweaks the nose of (I won’t say reverses, it doesn’t go that far) plenty of tropes and gender expectations, and this certainly seems like a missed opportunity to call Solo on the carpet (which I hope film #2 does far more)

Things I wrote down so long ago I don’t recall what they mean:

· CC-save

In conclusion:

What does film #2 look like? What title does it get? Will the Peter/Neil White Collar dynamic continue to grow? *note that I have no confidence a second film will ever come to pass...

In the end, all I know is, “It didn't help when American Tom Cruise, who was slated to play U.S. spy Napoleon Solo, dropped out, prompting the casting of Cavill (who had previously read for the Russian role).“ I would not have watched that film.

#tmfu #tmfu 2015 #ilya kuryakin #napoleon solo #gaby teller #henry cavill #armie hammer #alicia vikander #the man from uncle 2015 #the man from u.n.c.l.e.#the man from uncle #i don't know what this film's tags are meant to be to keep it from popping up in the TV series searches Sorry

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bangwoolofbangtan · 4 years

Text

MAX Talks "Colour Vision", "Blueberry Eyes", And Texting With BTS's Suga

Let's start at the beginning — I'm really interested in your first track, “Colour Vision”, both in terms of the title and the tone. It sets the scene for the whole album, and I’m curious whether the song or the title came first, and how important it was for you to have that be the introduction to the album.

MAX: Funny enough, the title came first, and I knew I had to write a song. I wanted to make that intro experience. I wanted it to be the first song of the show, and make sure that you felt you were being immersed in the world we wanted to create. Usually, you go into a writing session, and you don’t know what you’re going to write. You’re like, “What’s happened to you? What’s going on?” and you just dive in. But having the parameters of knowing what exactly we wanted to fill that box with was pretty amazing.

Basically, the rest of the album was done. So writing the intro was kind of amazing, because how do you want this to be introduced? I really wanted that lyric to showcase the reawakening and the rebirth, and finding that control in your life again. You have the control of your own destiny, even if people make you feel like you don’t, and that’s what I wanted that song to make you feel like. Your dreams can become a reality. You just have to dive outside of them and create that colour vision.

I always like to listen to an album from first song to last song. How important is that to you, and how do you decide which track goes where? Can it be listened to on shuffle, or do you want people to listen to it in order?

MAX: If people do listen to it on shuffle, that’s totally cool. Every song stands on its own. But I did make it a very poignant point to have each story kind of roll into the next. It was important to have “Colour Vision” roll into “Working for the Weekend”, because the whole record is about that you have to love what you’re doing, or else you’re going to want to jump off a cliff. When you’re not doing what you love to do, every second feels like an hour, and I had that before I really committed to doing music, things I was just doing for the money, or because I felt like everybody wanted me to do it.

I really wanted it to sonically feel right, but then storyline-wise also to have an arc — to start with a lot of energy, but then go to a lower place of getting in your feels, and then coming back to more of a visceral and loving place, ending with “There’s a God” and this climax of emotion at the end. So, yeah, in short — every song, I was very clear on wanting them to flow into each other. That was important to me.

You have a lot of collaborators on this album. It’s been a long time since your last project, so was that a conscious decision, or was it just a natural occurrence after meeting these people over the last four years?

MAX: The latter, for sure. I just get obsessed with people and I’m like, “We’ve got to make something together!” It always comes out of that mutual respect and excitement. I’m an only child, and I’m a solo artist, so you just want to involve other people in your world to feel connected with it. That’s probably why I collaborate so much. You find something in the person you’re collaborating with within yourself that you never would have found without really connecting and diving in with them. There’s a spark of magic in every collaboration, and you find you made a song that you never would have done if you were alone in your room.

What kind of lessons did you learn from your collaborators on this one?

MAX: Oh, so much. For example, with bbno$, his process writing-wise is so different from mine. I’m so meticulous and I spend so many hours on each line, whereas there’s such a freedom in his writing. Even for his verse, we spent four hours on a Saturday while I was on a road trip going back and forth about which lines to keep, and I think that freedom definitely teaches me, maybe I’ve got to sometimes be a little more experimental.

Of course, with Suga… Having language not be a hindrance, because you’re coming from the same emotive place. Going to Korea — that whole trip changed my life. It made me realise which songs people connect with, not necessarily because of the specific lyrics, but because of what’s behind it. That transcends language. That collaboration taught me so much, and that was so special.

You previously collaborated with Suga on “Burn It”. You said you were supposed to be releasing the albums on the same day, so were you working on that and “Blueberry Eyes” at the same time? They’re so different from each other — what was that like?

MAX: We were! It was cool. I think it worked out, because his stuff for “Burn It” was pretty much done, and it was mostly me going back and forth, nailing what he wanted. It actually started in a way lower key, so he had to re-cut his parts based on what key he wanted my voice to be in for that song.

It was kind of great that we were both working on each other’s projects at the same time, because there was such a camaraderie of, you know, “Thank you for doing this for me, and I’m so happy I’m doing this for you.” It was just such a delightful process. I’ve never really done especially multi-country collaborations, not being in person, but it was so seamless. We were very specific about what each of us wanted, which really helped us be creatively free but also be understanding of how to keep the message of a full project cohesive with each other’s collaborations.

So do you have the idea for the song first, and then discuss those ideas before writing lyrics? I’m very curious about the process of a Korean artist writing Korean lyrics for a majority-English song.

MAX: I just sent him the whole album. I basically said, “Here’s all the songs, you tell me what you want to be on, and I’ll make it work. I’m grateful to have you on any song.” And he liked “Blueberry Eyes”. I’d already written the song, so I think that probably helped the message, because it was very clear that there was a sweet, loving, dream world to it.

Actually, funny enough, I asked if he’d jump on “New Life”. I just thought that that would be the one, and he said, “You know, it’s not my style. I like the song a lot, but I just don’t know that I would fit on it.” So that’s when I sent him the whole album. I was just like, “You choose what song. You do your thing. I don’t care.”

I was actually surprised. I just didn’t think he would choose ["Blueberry Eyes"], but I can’t hear it without him now, especially because I’ve learned all the Korean with Emily for the video. It was cool, because the first thing you hear on “Blueberry Eyes” is the first thing he sent me. I didn’t give him any notes. I was just like, this is it. It was so cool to have another language and see the translation and be like, this is so romantic and beautiful and something different than I hear from him in most of his music. It was a new moment, and it was really special to have him do that on this song.

“Burn It”, similarly — sometimes I do features that are very dark, but that was way darker of a world than I usually do. So it was cool that we were both out of our comfort zones and our creative boxes.

Obviously, collaborating with a member of BTS comes hand in hand with a large and dedicated family. What has the response from ARMY been like since “Burn It” and now with “Blueberry Eyes”?

MAX: ARMY’s been amazing. I think at first — and I am ARMY, so I know [laughs] — there is this distrust in anybody who gives love to [BTS], because you don’t know what their reasons are. Oftentimes, people come out of the woodwork and they put a tweet out just because they think it’ll blow up because they mention them, and It’s less about the appreciation of them or the music or the diligence or the focus.

I mean, I always had so much love and respect for the group. I think people knew what’s up, and it was pretty clear that it had been a few years in the making, this collaboration. But once I met Suga, it went so deeper realm for me. They had just shot a music video for the last few days, but he wanted to see this basketball game. He was so kind, and so warm, but he was taking a nap in between plays because they work so hard. I think that element isn’t seen by so many people who just want it for clout. When you don’t really understand the human element, and you just see people as numbers or artists that aren’t human... It’s that human element that makes people want to protect them. And they should, because so many people are in it for the wrong reasons.

That’s what I was hit with at first — when I put the song out, I got some people who totally got that it was authentic and that I had so much love, and there were people who were a little sceptical. But for the most part, I really was blown away by how positive the whole fanbase welcomed me. It’s been amazing. They hate that I teased so much, but I do that with every song. [laughs] I’m so bad at keeping secrets, so I always feel like I have to share just a little bit.

You mentioned the "Blueberry Eyes" music video earlier, and you've been teasing it on Twitter and Instagram for a couple of weeks now. What can you tell me about it?

MAX: The video is basically like Disney meets Wes Anderson. It’s all in one quarantined house that you see in the “Love Me Less” video, and it’s “Blueberry Eyes”, so we’ve got all these blueberries. We used the blueberries afterward! Everyone thinks we were wasting food, but we made “Blueberry Eyes” shirts with the tie-dye from the blueberries. We had, like, thousands of blueberries and we were bathing in them, so we didn’t want to eat them, but we had to do something with them.

We learned the entire Korean [verse], and those were our vows in our quarantine wedding. Of course, we threw a little cat in there to make it feel like Yoongi was part of it, because unfortunately he couldn’t be in the video — we wanted every bit of his spirit to be there, even though he wasn’t there — but now I know a bit of Korean, which is awesome. I’m going to keep diving in. I literally texted him right after saying, “I just learned your whole verse in Korean, now I hope we can have more conversations in Korean, because it was so hard to learn.”

And it's just you texting lyrics that he wrote. [laughs]

MAX: Our conversations are so short and cute, it’s always like, “Go Max! Go 'Blueberry Eyes'!” and then I’m like, “Go 'Dynamite'! Go Yoongi!” It’s just right to the point.

As for the rest of the album — do you have a personal favourite song on the tracklist?

MAX: I’d say it’s between the intro, “Colour Vision”, and the last song, “There Is A God”. There’s a certain moment where you write a song as an artist, and you know that it’ll stick with you in a different way. With “There Is A God”, it was right before Emily got pregnant, and it was this moment of knowing that [our family] had to be my number one forever. As much as I love music, this person and our family and our love and our life, that’s what I’ll always be most grateful for, and what I’ll always have the most faith because of. When you have something so deep to lose, you have so much to believe in. So that song meant something on a grander scale than most songs usually do, and every time I listen to it, I get a little emotional.

And to wrap up — the world has been through a difficult few months. I’m wondering if the timing of this release was intentional, and what you want listeners to get from this album during hard times?

MAX: I always feel like my favourite albums or my favourite movies, they give me that little spark of magic that I’ve been waiting for. The worst times in your life, you watch that one movie, and you just feel a little more will to live and excitement, and you have a little more inspiration that there’s a real happiness out there, and you’ve felt it before, and this piece reminds you of that.

For me, people kept being like, “It’s the wrong time to release anything right now. Just keep pushing.” But I just hope people find that little spark. I hope it gives them something that is an escape, that also makes them realise maybe there are certain joys in their life that they can dive into even more. Being that vessel for anyone, in the same way that I feel about certain movies and albums, is an honour. So I hope that’s what this means to people. That’s why I want it now because, more than ever, we all need a little reality, and also we need to believe in our dreams. That’s what this album is about.

#bts #min yoongi #MAX #blueberry eyes #suga #myg #yoongi #yoongi collaboration

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satbiym · 5 years

Text

Chapter 1: Dragon Yuuri AU

The Last Dragon: Flight by satbiym

Word Count: 2.2K, Chapters: 1/?, Warnings: None

Written for prompt 95 of @wewritevictuuri “There’s no going back if we do this.”

Summary:

Beware traveller, for here be dragons…”

I sure fucking hope so, Victor thought as he pushed open the door to the fenced off caves.

Upon being commissioned to make a serious documentary on dragons by a rich tycoon; famous scientist, Victor Nikiforov was determined to rise to challenge and overcome all barriers that stood in his way; even if one of those barriers was the fact that dragons didn’t technically exist.

A rumour of a so-called dragon skeleton has Victor rushing to film the results, only, the skeleton brings more questions than answers. Every scientist worth their salt knows not to bias their results with personal opinions, but...

Dragons aren’t real, right?

Although, the blue dragon in front of him is pretty convincing evidence to the contrary.

Continuation of a fic originally written for the @isekaiyoizine

Read it on AO3 or below!

No creature above all others has haunted our imagination, on land and in the air, like the dragon.

Dragons have left their mark in the folklore of our ancestors, but what if these fantastic stories were more than myth?

What if the legends of these magnificent creatures were true…

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The locals called Hasetsu 'inauspicious', steering clear of it and making sure it remained undisturbed by both man and machine. Unfortunately, the advent of progress and the greed of man waits for none, and eventually, eyes turned towards Hasetsu to satisfy the need for more, more, more.

They laughed off the warnings of the locals and dismissed their stories as ramblings of the uneducated, for who else would cite folklore as reason enough to throw away potentially millions of dollars in real estate?

Palms were greased, permits were signed and companies were hired to build the next iteration of the future.

The engineers responsible for construction expected to find only overgrown flora and fauna, something they knew how to handle. But what they didn't expect was to find themselves right in the middle of a centuries-old crime scene.

The Chief Engineer took off his hard-hat and resisted the urge to curse as the smell of vomit mixed with the already putrid smell of human remains. This project had just gotten a lot more complicated.

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This is the story of a unique family that survived from the time of the dinosaur to make a final stand four hundred years ago, a scientific exploration of a remarkable species...

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"Victor Nikiforov, you have been the face of Paleontology and are considered one of the most important scientists of this millenium. We are curious - what do you think about when you're in the field, trying to discover something?" The talk-show show asked, as the children around them, visible even though the bright stage lights, screamed their approval.

Victor smiled a bit and straightening his glasses, said, "To be honest, Ellen, I try not to predict what I might find as this might taint my results and may even make me unable to see what's right there in front of my eyes, simply because it didn't fit with my worldview. I prefer to choose science over emotions in that sense."

Ellen laughed, sounding delighted, and chimed, "There you have it, folks! From the mouth of one of the best scientists in recent history! Don't taint the results!"

"Well that, and remember kids, the only difference between science and messing around is..." Victor said, lilting and urging.

"Writing it down!" the audience shouted back.

"Beautiful!" Ellen said, miming wiping away a tear, "You are all wonderful scientists! And with that we take a break before we come back and Victor here will show us how to properly excavate during a dig and who knows what we'll find there..."

Victor kept smiling as commercials rolled and the makeup artist came over to refresh his look, silently handing over a tissue to Victor's murmured thanks.

"The lights, huh?"

Victor looked over at Ellen and huffed out a wry laugh, "Yeah, even after doing this for five years, my eyes still tear up."

Leaning forward, she said, "Well, despite them, you did a wonderful job today. But now that the cameras are off, I am curious about something…"

Forcing his smile from stilting, Victor quirked an eyebrow and gave her a nod to go ahead, affecting curiosity despite knowing the question.

"I guess, what I really want to know is - what can we expect next from Victor Nikiforov?" Ellen asked, unaware of the dread pooling in Victor's gut.

Victor hummed, as if considering the question, and with a tone that belied the reality that this very question had lead to many sleepless nights, said, "To be honest, I don't know myself. My field is highly dependent on nature, and nature is the most imaginative creator of them all. You could either try to constrain it by leasing it like a wild horse or make sure you've held on tight and enjoy the ride. Personally, I prefer allowing myself to be surprised. It's more fun that way."

"And make sure you don't fall off, yeah?" Ellen asked mischievously, shattering the ice around Victor's throat.

Victor laughed, and nodded, "Oh, yeah, that too."

Ellen shook her head, amused, "Ever the diplomat. Fine. Keep your secrets, Victor Nikiforov, I guess I'll just have to wait, like the rest, for your next act."

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… This is the natural history of the most extraordinary creature that never existed.

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Victor resisted the urge to fidget as the helicopter began its descent, he hadn't expected to wake up this morning to a message from the office of the CEO of Paladin Ventures requesting his presence at his earliest availability. Considering Paladin Ventures was responsible for his current multi-million dollar grant that enabled him to continue his research while maintaining his freedom from the leashes of academia…

Let's just say, Victor's earliest availability was suddenly a lot sooner than it had been yesterday.

And if the haste with which the helicopter had been sent over at his acquiescence, the media mogul who was responsible for more than half the world's research funding in areas like paleontology, history and restoration, was just as eager to meet him.

Victor could feel his stomach twist, a sensation that only visited him whenever he was on the cusp of something life-changing, he had a feeling that this meeting was going to be the answer he had been looking for.

"We're here, sir. The Paladin is waiting for you." The pilot said, pointing outside, where a seemingly ordinary man stood, smile visible even from the helicopter.

The man waved on seeing them, and ran towards them, opening the chopper's door before anyone else could and shouted over the noise of the blades.

"There you are, Victor! I have a mission for you and it's all our dreams come true!"

--------------------------------------------------------------

As a kid, I was mad about dragons;

Dragons from the high seas, flying dragons from Greenland, fire-breathing dragons from Europe and here's the thing that got me, these myths came from all over the world, right? From cultures that could never have met and yet from the Andes to the Himalayas you could hear stories of dragons and…

Here's a kid's best guess, the only way that's possible is if the stories were real.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Victor, seated in a helicopter for the second time in 24 hours, was still reeling from the information he had received, been commanded to verify and document.

They've found something, in Japan. Something the Japanese government is very hush-hush about, but I was able to finagle a first look at. Of course, if it turns out to be a hoax… but anyway! If it is what the rumours say it is… well then, it would all have been worth it. I need you to go and bring back all you find.

Victor closed his eyes, when he remembered the fanatic and helpless excitement on the Paladin's face, like this was the break he had been looking for.

But, empathy or not, Victor couldn't see how what the Paladin had told him could possibly be true. There was just no way that-

"Do you believe the story the Richie Rich's trying to sell us, Baldie?" a voice said, aggressive in intent and content.

Eyeing the pilot who was still focused on flying, thank god, Victor smiled and lightly said, "Nature isn't constrained by our imagination, Yura. Remember-"

"Yeah, yeah," Yuri asserted derisively before laying a hand on his chest and as if reciting an oft-repeated phrase, "Don't predict what you might find as this might taint the results yada, yada, yada. Yes. I've heard the press spiel, Victor, but you cannot tell me you seriously believe him?! All rich people have their eccentricities. His is just sending us on a pointless goose chase."

Victor laughed lightly, "Why Yura, I didn't know you watched my interviews!"

Despite the rage emanating from Yuri's silence, Victor, from the backseat, could see the way Yuri's ears went red.

"You - shut up! You're insufferable! And impossible to avoid, you're everywhere, it's disgusting!" Yuri spluttered, ears still a bright cherry red.

Victor opened his mouth to parry back, but was cut off by a curt sound from the pilot. They turned, only to see a barren wasteland that looked as though it had been abandoned in a hurry, greet them welcome.

They had, it appeared, arrived in Hasetsu.

And by the uniformed person waiting for them, they had a welcoming party.

Victor got off the helicopter, but the noise and wind weren't enough to block out the first words from the person outside's mouth.

"I don't know what you're expecting to find here Dr. Nikiforov, but this ain't like your usual kind of dig."

Victor smiled wanly as Yuri cursed lowly behind him as he carried the equipment out of the helicopter, and stepped forward to shake the uniformed policeman's hand, replying "Thank you for your concern, but there is always something that can be learnt from every experience. What happened exactly?"

The policeman just shook his head, gesturing toward them to follow him, said "Then I'm afraid, this is something you need to experience yourself to understand. I'm the Chief of Police around here, but even I haven't seen anything like this. Come on then, might as well get right to it."

Bemused, Victor followed along, with a grumbling Yuri behind him.

As they walked into the forest, the trees becoming denser and more untouched by the machinations of the contractors, the Chief explained, "We told the higher-ups that this forest was cursed. For centuries no one has ventured up here, and we were right not to! For look what they found!"

Yuri sighed irritably, "You're trying to tell me that some centuries-old human remains were enough to warn an entire village off of the forest? You've got to be kidding me."

Victor sent Yuri a warning look, as the Police Chief shuddered, "It wasn't the human remains that were the problem, young man."

"Eh?" Yuri said, forehead beaded with sweat from carrying around the equipment under the hot sun, but the Chief wasn't willing to answer any further questions.

They walked into a forest that seemed almost regal in its staid dignity, sun filtering through the trees and the chirping of the birds. If it wasn't for Yuri's continued grumbling, Victor would have thought he had entered a whole new world. They walked deeper until the light of the sun was almost blocked by the overarching trees, forcing Victor to rely on his torch.

The ruins emerged from the trees, tall and proud, despite the weight of the years and beseeching weather.

Even Yuri couldn't stifle a gasp as they walked towards the almost palatial dwelling that the ruins seemed to be built around, the stones in the path glittering.

"What-" Yuri started to ask, before he gasped, almost dropping the equipment he was carrying.

Victor was distantly aware of the Chief praying beside him, but even the proximity of the noise couldn't make him turn his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

Dark marks surrounded the center dwelling, across the glittering paths, burning its way through the tens of hundreds of fallen human bodies on the ground.

But, that wasn't what gave them all pause.

It wasn't the human remains that were the problem, young man.

"Is that - What are that those?!" Yuri shrieked as he pointed at the other remains strewn around the dwelling.

Victor had always believed that nature could not be predicted or contained, but even he couldn't believe the sight in front of him: skeletons with bone structures he had never seen before, with the smallest one towering over them, as tall as a skyscraper and just as slim.

Victor slowly set his bag down to investigate further, only to have his arm be grabbed by Yuri.

"What do you think you're doing?" Yuri exclaimed, eyes wide.

"What I was sent here to do, Yura." Victor said gently.

"No! This isn't your job, this is- is- something neither one of us signed on for! It's unnatural!" Yuri said shrilly, still staring at the skeletons with a frantic look in his eyes.

"Yura." Victor said simply.

At that, Yuri seemed to remember himself, eyes losing their bewilderment, but he still clutched Victor's arm tighter, unwilling to let go.

"Yura." Victor tried again, and said evenly, "We are scientists. It is our responsibility to make sense of the seemingly unnatural. Even if it means that our lives will never be the same again, we must move forward and tell the story that is true and not just the story we want to hear. Now, I am going to figure this out, I cannot promise what we'll find, but… if you want, you may take the helicopter back home if you so choose."

Yuri for the first time since they'd seen them, looked away from the skeletons, and back at Victor, studying his face for a moment before shaking his head and ruefully murmuring, "There's no going back if we do this, is there?"

Victor let his silence be Yuri's answer.

Yuri took a deep breath, released Victor's arm and with finality, nodded, "Alright then, let's see what we can dig up."

#victuuri #viktuuri #victuri #vikturi #yoi #yoi fic #dragon au #dragon yuuri au #mypost #myfic #myzines

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letterboxd · 5 years

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Divas.

“You have to know what you’re willing to fight for or die for.” Angelina Jolie goes head-to-head with Michelle Pfeiffer in the Maleficent sequel, Mistress of Evil. The megastars talk to Letterboxd about their new Disney blockbuster, their favorite villains, and learning to let go of your children.

We haven’t done specific data on this, but it’s no secret that, from Tinkerbell and Wendy to Mother Gothel and Rapunzel, Disney in particular excels at pitting women against each other and messing with concepts of motherhood. Times change, however, and in 2014, with Angelina Jolie in the title role, the studio’s live-action blockbuster Maleficent revisited the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale, taking a refreshing spin on the villain from Disney’s 1959 animated classic Sleeping Beauty.

It worked: Maleficent became Jolie’s highest-grossing film, and holds a particular kind of appeal for the Letterboxd members who love it. For Rookie Bear, it is “…a journey from girlhood to motherhood and maturity, and in many respects, is exactly the film I would have liked Sleeping Beauty to be.” Aly C agrees: “I love that so many distinctly feminine themes are layered into this story, from non-traditional motherhood to recovering from sexual assault. It’s so smart; [writer] Linda Woolverton is a genius, and that must be part of why Angelina was so enthusiastically behind this project (besides looking absolutely iconic). I hope the sequel stays on this same path.”

Pedro Paixão is a little more succinct: “I have a weakness for bad bitches in leather.” He’s gonna love the follow-up, which sees dark fairy Maleficent (Jolie) drawn out of the moors, a verdant land in which fantasy creatures flourish, by the impending nuptials between surrogate daughter Princess Aurora (Sleeping Beauty herself, played by Elle Fanning) and her beloved Prince Phillip (Harris Dickinson, replacing the original’s Brenton Thwaites).

But this is Disney. With Maleficent and Aurora happy in their non-traditional family unit, the sequel needs a new bad bitch. Cue Michelle Pfeiffer, the ideal grande dame to go head-to-head with Jolie in lavish new sequel Maleficent: Mistress of Evil.

Pfeiffer plays Aurora’s mother-in-law to be, Queen Ingrith; outwardly welcoming of Maleficent, but secretly plotting against her, setting the stage for an epic showdown in which expensive special effects are entirely outshone by two of Hollywood’s most legendary actors throwing down. It’s misunderstood-villain versus actual-villain, and the star power on display is truly something to behold.

Jolie and Pfeiffer recently joined press in Beverly Hills to talk about the film, and we took the opportunity to ask them for any iconic movie villain performances that they may have taken inspiration from.

Angelina Jolie immediately named the performance given by her co-star in Tim Burton’s Batman Returns: “I like Michelle as Catwoman,” she told us.

Pfeiffer brought up a different Batman film, Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight, in her response: “I think the first thing that came to mind was Heath Ledger as the Joker. I didn’t take that as inspiration, but that’s my favorite villain.”

Read on for highlights from the rest of the conversation.

On being associated with the character of Maleficent: Angelina Jolie: The strange thing as an actor, you’re kind of always figuring out who you are, how people see you. Now with social media, everybody has an opinion. As an actor, it’s strange, you put yourself forward [for a role] and somebody says: “Oh, that’s very you.” And you think: ‘Really, is it?’ When I got a call and they said: “We thought you’re the only person who could play Maleficent. It was so obvious.” I was like: “What was so obvious?” I’m never quite sure how I’m supposed to take that.

And yet, I love her. So maybe I just need to fully embrace it at this time in my life. Maybe when I first did it I thought I needed to find the other aspects of her; she’s a bit wild and full-on and a bit much. Now I have different things in my life and I’m just so happy to feel strong again and have some fun. I adore being her.

On whether or not she was channeling screen legend Bette Davis in her performance: AJ: When I was little, I saw the animated film. Clearly she was drawn with that inspiration, and the original voice, and the original way she was, and I was so drawn to it. All of those women. There’s so much to learn from them. Any comparison I’m very grateful for.

On how the film plays with notions of good and evil: Michelle Pfeiffer: It’s a very unusual fairy tale, which I also loved about the first film, it was so surprising. What I loved is that it played in this grey area and it talked about good-versus-evil, and how all of us have a little bit of everything in us. I think in terms of strength, and how that manifests itself, it’s different in everyone. One of the things we loved about Aurora is that in many ways she is ultimately the strongest and wisest of all of us. My character is really brilliant and diabolical, but I wouldn’t consider her terribly wise.

I mean, everybody has vulnerability, and I think, [Queen Ingrith is] damaged. Nobody behaves that way unless they’re incredibly damaged on some level. She just doesn’t wear it on her sleeve, I guess. And it some ways, what she resorts to is really, truly out of a very deep fear. On the central themes of the film: AJ: It is about family. Aurora and Maleficent were brought together and they became a family and they weren’t really expecting it. Maleficent was harmed in her life and she lost herself and lost her ability to, I think, be soft and feel love. Being a mother brought out something in me that really transformed me. But we’re different creatures in the film. There are metaphors in the film, not to be heavy about it, but always I think a good film for young people has these messages, and I think there’s real questions in the film: [Aurora and Maleficent] get pulled apart, people tell us, because we’re not the same. “Because you’re not exactly like her, you’re not gonna love her.” That certainly strikes a chord with me. I think Maleficent does wonder if she’s good enough to be a mother.

Then there’s a real push to say “this is not how it should be, and this is not how to live”. Diversity makes us stronger. There must be a better way forward, and we have to come together. We do that in the film with the humans and the creatures and moor-folk coming together. We do that as a family, we come together and we fight against this separation. We unite and we say “this is the world we choose to live in”. I think that that is a really important message.

On Aurora and Maleficent’s relationship: AJ: I see her exactly as she is, and I don’t want her to be any different than she is. And she sees me as I am, and she accepts me as I am. It is to say to everybody: “Be yourself, be your true self. You don’t live forever.” Say to children: “No matter how people see you and how they say you should be, you’ll suffocate. Be your true nature, whatever that may be, and you’ll find acceptance, because you have to.”

On the film’s elaborate dinner scene, when Maleficent and Ingrith first encounter each other: MP: Tension-wise, nobody wanted to be the one to wreck the take, because it was so long. Every angle, every shot was a master. The tension is really good, you’re kind of just being there for each other.

AJ: I was just happy we were sitting. I felt like I was having dinner with friends for a week. I thought it was great. On the challenge of performing inside such gargantuan costumes: AJ: You get so supported in these roles with the magic, everybody working towards this idea of [bringing together] costumes, visual effects and make-up to help bring you into a creature. It’s a big team. Some of my costumes were half there, and we had to be flying with rigs and things. The trick with Maleficent sometimes is that I need to look stronger on the ground, but then I have to float when I’m up in the air.

On what the film has to say about self-sacrifice: AJ: When you talk about love, we spoke about knowing your true self, but really I think the core of is: we’re not here just to exist. You have to know what you stand for. You have to know what you’re willing to fight for or die for. If you live that way, then whatever pain comes with it and whatever sacrifice comes with it, you embrace it and it actually fills you with purpose. That’s hopefully represented in the film.

On whether or not she was trying to top her previous villain performances: MP: I didn’t actually look at it that way. I certainly enjoyed playing this, I was really delighted and surprised when I read the script. I was excited just by the notion of working with [Angelina Jolie and Elle Fanning].

You approach them all differently. I had a lot of fun doing this. I felt like I had a lot of freedom to try and bring some other colors, you know, try to play the humanity. It may not appear at first blush that Ingrith is willing to sacrifice anything, but she’s willing obviously to sacrifice her son. I think that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. (Laughs.) It’s complicated.

On relating to Maleficent having to let go of Aurora, given that she just sent her oldest son off to college: AJ: To be very honest, Maddox was so ready and he’s doing so well. He spent these days with me as I thought I was preparing him to go. You work so hard as a mother, you think: ‘I’m really helping him.’ And then at the airport, he could’ve left but he stayed with me a bit longer, I kept thinking: ‘He wants to be with me a little longer.’ And then at some point he looked at me and said: “Are you okay?” and I said “Yeah I’m fine” and I realized the entire week was all for me. He was just making sure I was okay. And he gave me a really big hug because he knew that I needed it, and I knew that he was okay because he was the kind of man who knew what I needed and he gave it to me in a loving way. So I left feeling really proud. I did cry a few times.

There’s a part of this movie where I have to let [Aurora] go. It wasn’t in the script, but I didn’t quite let her go. And Diaval (Sam Riley) has to come in and say: “Let her go.” And that got me every time. Because I would think of… all of the kids. That moment of having to let them go. But it’s also exciting.