#Montecristo posting

[lafcadiosadventures]

Bandits you say?? insert hearts eye emoji hete

[inlovewithaspiderguy]

je vais pas mentir les chiffres de ce soir m’ont mis très mal mais je compte pas faire de conneries, en tout cas pas avant d’avoir voté la semaine prochaine… partir en laissant le monde mieux qu’on la laisse ou un truc du genre

[theworseshitpostcalligrapher]

Getting back into posting and being more active.

I'd like to step up a bit the quality of posts so I'm not back on doing the requests until I figure out how to do so (also I'm very anxious so I need to ease back into activity).

I've been re-reading one of my favourite books, the Count of Montecristo and I'm obsessing over these men and their fate.

Ink is Diamine wild strawberry.

[xviicprc]

montecristo posting on MAIN?

[chikirya]

Lies of P bookish Headcanons

I got a LOT of them but let's see how this first post performs lol. If y'all want more/specific genres/characters

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

GENERAL FICTION

P, loves all sorts of genres but is close to the romantic ones more. Ofc he'd like Austen, the Brontë sisters too!

Special mention... Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (for obvious reasons)

HP Lovecraft. Hear me out. He sees the monsters around him all the time, why not ponder on their existence? Surely, like him, they were created for a purpose...accident or not. P would want to find the beauty in the abomination.

Cosmic horror P vibing with Pandemonium??? Yes and yes only.

***

Carlo, lover of fairy tales as a kid, would definitely grow up with the French classics. Maybe some Dumas, (Man in the Iron Mask, Three Musketeers and Count of Montecristo) i think he'd love Cyrano de Bergerac play too. This would've inspired him to be a great fighter!!

Lowkey I think Carlo would make a great detective too. So giving him AC Doyle and Agatha Christie.

***

Romeo, i think would like Dumas too but he seems to me the more sentimental type.

So imma say he reads Russian classics as a hobby ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ . We're talking about Chekov's plays, Crime and Punishment, Anna Karenina, War and Peace.

(This is also aligned to my other HC that Romeo is an orphan from a nouveau riche family in Krat. Orphan boy but he has the blood of an Aristocrat.)

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude

An X-MEN Origins: Wolverine Universe-inspired Series

*Post-Origins movieverse

Pairing: Victor Creed x Isabela Montecristo | Sabertooth x Vipress

Disclaimer: This series will have canon-accurate and heightened levels of violence, adult themes, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and graphic descriptions of sex.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Series Summary: Victor Creed's reputation as the Sabertooth proceeds him. He clashes with a mysterious feral woman, an enigma and anomaly to everything he knows. What began as a hunt becomes a dance between like-minded predators.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |

Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 |

Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

Series is complete.

*Moodboard image was assembled from several sources and made by yours truly.

[misscrawfords]

Everytime a 'The Count of Montecristo" post shows up on my dash, I think "Rose would probably like it, must send it to her" and lo and behold you were the one putting it on my dash. :D

Well, I should hate to be predictable, and yet...

[qranta]

Diaz caóticos...

Estos dias estuve tan fuera de esto. Ni redactar quería, entonces me escondí en los libros mientras hacia mi rutina diaria y fue uff... Empecé tres libros distintos "el solitario", "el conde de montecristo" y "tuneles" (un triplicado golpe del bueno ). Al menos con esos titulos me volvió algo de inspiración. Ahora toca escupir letras y empezar a relatar post en lo que Kaelkoth se pone lindo.

En fin también pensé qué hacer con está cuenta, si hacerla personal o qué. Supongo que tendrán que tener paciencia con está cabecita alterada.

[apoptoses]

DA here reporting for duty 😎 needless to say I completely agree with what’s been said (you characterization is incredible YES IT IS), but also can we hear a little commotion for the smut!? You smut is life changing, every single intimate gesture feels SO big, so monumental, a transformative experience for the characters. The restaurant scene comes to mind, where Armand is just watching Daniel eat then making him eat then feeding him himself, it’s such a torturous, delicious build up that feels sexual every step of the way and they don’t even touch (properly) nevertheless kiss or fuck. And yet there I was reading it like it was the Count of Montecristo. Just exquisite 🤌🏼 But also there is this thing about your writing where everything feels big and important, even the building up to the big moments feels monumental, every gesture full of emotion and ahem, monstrous intimacy 😮‍💨

Dungeon anon 💖💖

Hahaha, would you believe that when I posted the Copley fic I actually took a klonopin and cried? I was so convinced the sexual tension would not telegraph, that people would read it and think it's totally weird because it's just a single bite of cake, and I would be some kind of insane feeding kink pariah lol I absolutely agonized about sharing it.

But I'm so thrilled by the positive response it's gotten and so thrilled that you're here commenting directly on the smut. Because I love figuring out how a mortal and a vampire could connect sexually, and thinking about what Armand gets out of all of it. Sometimes writing about his sensory experiences is more fun than writing about Daniel's dick feelings and that's pretty cool (though I really love writing him all turned on and sloppy with desire for the monster in his bed).

And I'm so glad it all feels big and important. Because in my mind it's all important, like Armand snatching Daniel's cigarettes from his pocket is an intimate action and just as big as Armand sticking his hand down Daniel's pants.

And because I love you, and because anyone willing to put aside shame and comment directly on smut deserves a treat, here's some vampire on vampire action I'm working on:

Armand turned his face. Daniel’s mouth was so close, right there in front of him. All he had to do was close his eyes, lift his head and close the scant few inches between them for the first time in twenty years. It would feel so good- kissing Daniel had always felt like licking a battery, like getting an electric shock that started at his mouth and spread out through his veins until his entire body sang with it. Armand inhaled softly, angled his face just right. Got so close he could feel the brush of Daniel’s lips against his.

The whine he let out when Daniel pulled back was pathetic. He tried to reach out and drag him back in but before he could a pair of strong hands caught his wrists.

“Really, Daniel,” Armand muttered when he saw the smug grin on his face.

Daniel pressed a kiss to his palm that sent warmth blooming all the way down his arm. “What, you don’t like your own tricks used against you?”

[weirdesplinder]

La mia top ten dei classici della letteratura mondiale

Era un po' che ci pensavo. In questa era di TIKTOK i nostri giovani leggono gli stessi classici della letteratura che abbiamo letto noi, oppure sono ormai finiti nel dimenticatoio? Mi sono posta questa domanda e molte altre simili e ho deciso che era il caso di rimboccarsi le maniche e mettersi a parlare anche dei classici di cui di solito non parlo perchè do' per scontato che tutti già li conoscano o li abbiano addirittura letti a scuola. Ma visto che temo non sia più così e credo sia meglio rinfrescare la memoria a qualcuno o farli proprio conoscere a chi magari non li ha mai neppure sentiti nominare attraverso un aserie di video e post.

Iniziamo a parlarne molto in generale con un classico del mio blog, la mia lista di preferiti, la mia top ten dei classici della letteraura mondiale. A cui seguiranno liste più specifiche divise geograficamente.

Naturalmente come al solito è una lista estremamente soggettiva che riguarda me, perciò siete liberissimi di aggiungere nei commenti i vostri preferiti in questa categoria:

Guerra e Pace, di Lev Tolstoj

Link: https://amzn.to/3OQsmfK

Trama: In questa celeberrima opera si fondono due narrazioni: da una parte, i grandi avvenimenti storici che travolsero la Russia all'inizio del XIX secolo; dall'altra, le vicende delle due famiglie dei Bolkonskij e dei Rostov, unite dalla figura del conte. In tutto il romanzo emerge chiaro il pensiero di Tolstoj, per il quale non sono gli eroi, i generali e i re a fare la storia, ma le grandi masse, con le loro paure, le loro sofferenze e le loro speranze. La storia è infatti una successione inarrestabile di eventi che il singolo non può modificare. L'autore è abilissimo nel descrivere l'identità psicologica dei personaggi: dal principe Andrej, altero e deluso dalla vita, alla bella Nataša, vivace e affascinante, al conte Pierre, fragile e tormentato, ma le loro vicende non avrebbero senso senza il racconto della storia del popolo russo, di cui essi divengono dei simboli. In "Guerra e pace" sembra che i veri protagonisti siano proprio lo scorrere del tempo e l'avvicendarsi ineluttabile degli eventi, che rendono questo capolavoro della letteratura quasi un poema epico.

La mia opinione: se stupisco qualcuno con questo primo posto mi dispiace perchè secondo me questo è un classico imprenscindibile, un romanzo storico che veramente contiene tutto e scavalca tutti i sottogeneri del romanzo storico perchè li comprende tutti. E' la storia di una guerra, di un'epoca, di due famiglie, di un popolo, di una nazione, dell'Europa, di personaggi indimenticabili. Ha tutto perciò come non mettterlo al primo posto?

2. Il Conte di Montecristo, di Alexandre Dumas

Link: https://amzn.to/447TKdw

Trama: Nel febbraio del 1815, a Marsiglia, il marinaio Edmond Dantès viene falsamente accusato di bonapartismo e arrestato nel giorno delle nozze, alle soglie di una brillante carriera navale. Durante la prigionia nel castello d'If, uno scoglio in mezzo al mare, affina un odio feroce per gli autori della sua rovina e, quando l'amicizia con un altro prigioniero gli procura l'evasione nonché un favoloso tesoro, ne farà lo strumento di una vendetta grandiosa e spietata.

La mia opinione: come non amare Dumas? Io adoro tutti i suoi romanzi, come scrive, le sue trame, erano già dei film su carta prima delle loro trasposizioni cinematografiche. Avventura, intrigo, insomma il padre di D'Artagnan, La maschera di ferro e Robin Hood non ha bisogno di presentazioni.

3. Umiliati e offesi, di Fedor Dostoevskij

Link: https://amzn.to/3qn2G11

Trama: Fra le strade di Pietroburgo, nelle fredde prospettive della capitale, si incrociano le vicende di esseri umani in lenta rovina. La famiglia Ichmenev, amministratrice dei terreni del principe Valkovskij, viene allontanata dalla casa familiare a causa dell'amore sorto fra la giovane Natasha e il figlio del principe, l'ingenuo Alesa, ed è costretta a trasferirsi nella capitale; qui si muove anche Nelly, orfana poco più che bambina, che ha assistito impotente alla malattia della madre e all'indifferenza del nonno. Ivan Petrovic, studente e scrittore, ritratto di un Dostoevskij ventenne, è testimone protagonista: innamorato di Natasha sin da bambino, la aiuta nella fuga d'amore con Alesa, e decide di adottare Nelly per sottrarla agli abusi e alla mendicità. In "Umiliati e offesi", uno dei primi romanzi di Dostoevskij, emergono da una nebulosità ancora diffusa i personaggi e le situazioni che saranno propri del grande scrittore: i tormenti e l'amore, i personaggi candidi, l'indagine e la comprensione dell'animo umano.

La mia opinione: non ricordo nemmeno più perchè comprai questo romanzo, forse perchè visto che non avevo amato Delitto e Castigo, mi rifiutavo di non riuscire ad apprezzare un opera di questo scrittore così osannato da tutti e infatti Umiliati e Offesi mi piacque molto di più. E' un opera ottimista? No. E' molto triste e malinconica? Sì. Ma al contempo il fatto che al centro del romazo ci siano i rapporti famigliari, in particolar modo padre/figlia la rende per me più capibile a molti livelli. Poi il quadro storico è stupendo, i personaggi ben delineati. E' un romanzo forse poco nominato di Dostoevskij, ma che per la mia formazione è stato importante.

4. Orgoglio e pregiudizio, di Jane Austen

Link: https://amzn.to/3qqD976

Trama: I Bennet sono una famiglia rispettabile, ma non agiata, che vive nell'Hertfordshire, composta dai genitori e da cinque sorelle: Jane, Elisabeth, Mary, Catherine e Lydia. La signora Bennet è una donna frivola e dal comportamento spesso imbarazzante, il cui unico scopo nella vita è quello di trovare un buon marito alle proprie figlie. Quando il ricco Charles Bingley si trasferisce vicino alla tenuta dei Bennet con le due sorelle e l'amico Darcy, si verificano cambiamenti importanti.

La mia opinione: vi ho già parlato di questo libro in quasi ogni mia lista, un romanzo che ha segnato la storia del romanzo e del romanzo femminile in particolare, una bella storia raccontata con garbo e arguzia e che per questo è rimasta nei nostri cuori senza tempo, sempre attuale. La si può traslare in qualsiasi epoca questa trama e funziona sempre

5. Il visconte dimezzato, di Italo Calvino

Link: https://amzn.to/3KA19LQ

Trama: La bizzarra storia del visconte Medardo di Terralba che, colpito al petto da una cannonata turca, torna a casa diviso in due metà (una cattiva, malvagia, prepotente, ma dotata di inaspettate doti di umorismo e realismo, l'altra gentile, altruista, buona, o meglio "buonista"). "Tutti ci sentiamo in qualche modo incompleti" disse Calvino in un'intervista "tutti realizziamo una parte di noi stessi e non l'altra.

La mia opinione: altro classico della mia infanzia e lettura scolastica, divetente, piacevole e molto più profondo diq uello che sembra se lo si analizza.

6. Il signore degli anelli, di Tolkien

Link: https://amzn.to/442zPNi

Trama: La Compagnia dell'Anello si apre nella Contea, un idilliaco paese agricolo dove vivono gli Hobbit, piccoli esseri lieti, saggi e longevi. La quiete è turbata dall'arrivo dello stregone Gandalf, che convince Frodo a partire per il paese delle tenebre, Mordor, dove dovrà gettare nelle fiamme del Monte Fato il terribile Anello del Potere, giunto nelle sue mani per una serie di incredibili circostanze. Un gruppo di hobbit lo accompagna e strada facendo si aggiungono alla banda l'elfo, il nano e alcuni uomini, tutti uniti nella lotta contro il Male. La Compagnia affronta un cammino lungo e pericoloso, finché i suoi membri si disperdono, minacciati da forze oscure, mentre la meta sembra allontanarsi sempre di più.

La mia opinione: nelle mie liste dedicati ai classici della lettteartura cercherò di non citare romanzi di generi specifici come il fantasy o la fantascienza, ma per lui faccio un'eccezione.

7. L'antologia di Spoon River, di Edgar Lee Masters

Link: https://amzn.to/3Yz6vwz

Trama: «Dove sono Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom e Charley, / il debole di volontà, il forte di braccia, il buffone, il beone, il rissoso? / Tutti, tutti dormono sulla collina». L'autore dei versi, un avvocato del Kansas, compose il documento forse più completo, realistico e lirico sulla vita nella provincia americana di fine Ottocento, testimoniata dagli abitanti defunti del paesino di Spoon River. Con distacco, con passione, con ironia, con rabbia, si presentano su un palcoscenico ideale e raccontano la propria storia. La poesia nuova di Masters, asciutta, limpida, forte, procede nel racconto come una lente d'ingrandimento che rivela anche gli inganni meglio dissimulati, le frodi, le ipocrisie. O i desideri e la bellezza di uomini e donne cui la società negò ogni riconoscimento.

La mia opinione: opera che forse non molti conoscono estremamente d'impatto che ha un posto speciale tra le mie letture. racconta la vita e la sua caducità in sintesi senza fronzoli.

8. L'Orlando furioso, di Ludovico Ariosto

Link: https://amzn.to/3YrONLz

Trama: Poema cavalleresco di travolgente intensità narrativa e inimitabile equilibrio formale, l'Orlando furioso ha attraversato ogni epoca e stagione letteraria senza smettere di incantare i propri lettori. Ideale prosecuzione dell'Orlando innamorato, il Furioso porta ai massimi sviluppi la ricca sostanza umana e artistica dell'opera boiardesca: il conflitto tra le forze cristiane e quelle musulmane, l'amore non corrisposto del paladino Orlando per la principessa Angelica, la travagliata unione dinastica tra Ruggiero e Bradamante. Ma nel poema dell'Ariosto gli ideali della società cortese si separano definitivamente dalla realtà, segnata da quell'irrazionale intrico delle passioni che sarà raffigurato nella forsennata giostra dei cavalieri. Una tensione drammatica dietro cui si cela l'amara consapevolezza della crisi dei valori su cui si fondava l'utopia della civiltà umanistica.

La mia opinione: in teoria andrebbe studiato a scuola, ma in realtà già quando io andavo allae superiori veniva trattato molto in fretta per potersi dedicare maggiormente ad altri autori italiani ed è un vero peccato. In realtà è un'opera che meriterebbe la stessa analisi accurata che i programmi scolastici dedicano a Dante e Manzoni eppure non è mai così. Quindi perchè non leggerla nel tempo libero come romanzo di storie cavalleresche e cortesi? Tutte le edizioni pubblicate sono ben commentate in modo che chiunque possa leggerla e capirla senza problemi.

9. Miseria e Nobiltà, di E. Scarpetta

Link: https://amzn.to/3s9rkCQ

Trama: La commedia ha come protagonista Felice Sciosciammocca, celebre maschera di Eduardo Scarpetta, e la trama gira attorno all'amore del giovane nobile Eugenio per Gemma, figlia di Gaetano, un cuoco arricchito. Il ragazzo è però ostacolato dal padre, il marchese Favetti, che è contro il matrimonio del figlio per via del fatto che Gemma è la figlia di un cuoco. Eugenio si rivolge quindi allo scrivano Felice per trovare una soluzione. Felice e Pasquale, un altro spiantato, assieme alle rispettive famiglie, si introdurranno a casa del cuoco fingendosi i parenti nobili di Eugenio. La situazione si ingarbuglia poiché anche il vero Marchese Favetti è innamorato della ragazza, al punto di frequentarne la casa sotto le mentite spoglie di Don Bebè. Il figlio, scopertolo e minacciatolo di rivelare la verità, lo costringerà a dare il suo consenso per le nozze.

La mia opinione: per quanto mi riguarda le opere teatrali, Shakespeare docet, sono opere letterarie valide quanto le altre e alla stessa altezza, quindi ne vedrete comparire molte nelle mie liste. Questa l'avrò rilettta cento volte e ogni volta mi fa ridere. Un classico.

10. La bisbetica domata, di Shakespeare

Link: https://amzn.to/3DOcPqC

Trama: Petruccio è un avventuriero che parte da Verona e va a cercare fortuna a Padova. È un maschio giovane, forte e avvenente, assai dotato, e ha quella libertà di movimento che agli uomini è pienamente concessa nell'Italia immaginata da Shakespeare – così come nella sua Inghilterra. E quale modo migliore di fare fortuna se non trovare moglie? Moglie vuol dire dote. Anche se brutta come il peccato, o scontrosa come la proverbiale Santippe, la donna assolverà comunque al suo compito, se il padre-padrone com'è suo dovere la consegnerà al futuro sposo coprendola d'oro il giorno del matrimonio. È così che il giovane Petruccio s'imbatte nella giovane Caterina, la quale non sarà brutta, ma senz'altro è la più scorbutica delle spose. Caterina è la sorella ribelle dell'angelica Bianca, che tutti vorrebbero in moglie, ma che non potrà sposarsi, se il padre non si sarà prima liberato di quella gattaccia selvatica che è Caterina.

La mia opinione: e per concludere ancora teatro, stavolta del grande Shakespeare che non ha bisogno di presentazioni.

Lista come sempre molto soggettiva e riduttiva che rispecchia la mia formazione letteraria e i miei gusti, per fortuna potrò citare molti altri miei classici preferiti nelle altre liste specifiche altrimenti mi sarei sentita troppo in colpa!

Ora sono curiosa di conoscere i vostri classici delle letteratura preferiti, lasciatemeli nei commenti.

[lafcadiosadventures]

And another thing I think is very interesting/perhaps distinctive* of Dumas (at least in MonteCristo) is his penchant for scary and grotesque children. (Benedetto and Edouard Villefort)(their scariness is partially due to being spoilt by their mothers, but they both seem to carry a predetermination for evil in their physical features-> benedetto’s red hair, villefort’s huge, thin lipped grin)(that being said, dumas looking at spoilt children and finding them scary and disturbing is pretty valid)(is this self biographical ??? but it’s giving Diderot/Hobbes’ puer robustus,,,,)

*feels different from hugo and balzac’s children who never feel intrinsecally evil?? even in balzac who is a big determinism fan, society seems to have a heavier hand in molding people than biology,,, hmmm. this all definitely needs more research

[the-almighty-gob-john-langley]

So, What Numpties Deserve To Be Disembowelled With A Metaphorical Pitchfork Today Then?

From John Langley Bristol, author of 'The Sexual Philanthropist' available on Amazon/Kindle.

I never cease to be amazed by the fact I manage to retain a good sense of humour when most in this world seem to be losing, or have already lost the plot, or, are still rummaging to find a plot to lose in the first place for reasons yet unbeknown to them.

You see, up until about five minutes ago, I had no idea that the UK government website had an entire section devoted to acronyms. Trust me, it's true, and you too can refer to this via something entitled 'Style guide - A to Z - Guidance.' I rather like the term 'Style Guide' as if it's somehow couture in presentation and of such meaningless drivel I can imagine John Cleese being behind naming it such as a piss-take on the establishment that some idiot in government took seriously and adopted. Unlike the 'Ministry of Silly Walks' which, much to my continued disappointment, should have been made mandatory, and Boris the latest star turn.

Ah well. As far as acronyms go, I'm totally convinced that there is someone in the bowels of Whitehall who never sees the light of day and is fed and watered through a hatch in the door, and kept there for the sole purpose of inventing acronyms to suit whatever purpose is required of him - because it has to be a mad professorial type who looks like Gandalf on amphetamines and has an entire library of dictionaries from around the world at his fingertips from which to access the correct acronym for all occasions.

Today I woke up to news of the latest one, NEET. As in 'Not in Education, Employment, or Training. Perhaps it simply involves far too many letters, but as hard as I search the government website I'm surprised to find no reference at all to an acronym for B.U.L.L.S.H.I.T - yet. However, I live in hope.

Anyway, we have NEET but no TIDY. So, NEET it is then, for now. So, who exactly are these deemed not to be in education, employment, and training? Apparently, those who were so freaked out by the pandemic that they no longer want to attend school, or engage in any activity that involves leaving the security of their own home - such as for employment, and who seemingly spend their time engaging in activities such as TikTok and popping copious amounts of antidepressants that, by all accounts, have seen a huge rise in uptake that according to the 'National Institute for Cost Effectiveness', aka NICE, created a whole new generation of pill-poppers in the eleven to seventeen-year-old age group. Mind you, this report does date back to 2022, and I cannot imagine things getting any better since then. Meanwhile, the shareholders of the big pharma companies are rubbing their hands in glee from a whole new generation of addicts helping along their even healthier dividends and a few extra boxes of Montecristo Number One to enjoy while celebrating the extra dosh pouring into their already bulging bank accounts. Excellent work!

Not that I would ever wish to cast aspersions on the post-millennial generation, and neither would I be in any way cynical either, because if you've been reading my blog posts for any serious length of time you would fully recognise that such things are beyond me. However, I have to say that the mollycoddled progeny so enjoyably wrapped in the finest cotton wool available to humankind by parents who see their little darlings as 'friends' rather than offspring haven't exactly helped toward creating a generation of robust x, y's, and z's.

[frankdorchester]

looking back

The months are starting to pass like weeks, days that aren't productive or useful feel like an incredible waste of time. I'm happy for the new routines and incremental improvement in self-development. I'm happy that group hangouts are starting to steer away from heavy drinking and leaning more into quiet nights in. Here are the things I'm proud of myself for doing in the past month:

Started going to a few classes, kickboxing/eskrima/kali and improv/theater. I can't shake the feeling that I wish I started earlier, but oh well, at least this is a good start.

Finished one book (Pachinko) and started another big read (The Count of Montecristo). Ellen reads a book like every week, so I'm grateful for adopting the hobby and enjoying some quiet time with her.

Not drinking (at all), not smoking (as much). 24 year old Todd would be proud.

Getting my financials/savings on track for the coming year. This was a big step in the right direction.

Reconnected with my mom. This one is still a big work in progress, but at least I'm able to approach this situation logically now, instead of emotionally. I think that's something worth celebrating.

Started medicating for my clinical diagnosis-- bipolar, surprise surprise. I'm not ashamed for needing help with this one, and I'm glad I started medication for something that I wasn't aware of but always afraid of.

Sometimes, I go back and read my old posts to reminisce, and to see how different I was back then. Damn, that was a dramatic little boy. Shame on him. I'm glad I'm not like that anymore.

[not-souleaterpost]

Sinuhe, the prestige tv anti-hero

Yup, this post will probably be the farthest from anything I am usually known for

So some months ago, while being stuck in the hospital, I didn't have anything better to do than read this book which I somehow got into my possesion. Funnily enough it's author is supposedly the most famous Finish author, and during the 60s there even was a Hollywood movie adaption all the jazz. Yet today it's hard to find anybody online talking about it.

So in a way this is my motivation. Yet what is there to say? Will I repeat the one thing everyone praises of it being so accurate to ancient egypt? (I'm not from Yugioh, so how would I know either way?) That it is a metaphor/retelling of the authors life and experience during the events of two world wars and the rise and fall of empires and emporours? About the cycle of history, that even if how depressing in retrospect seems to be moving, even if it all takes tragedy? - Nah, let's better talk how it reminds me of a prototype of all these grimdark shows with lots of nudity lol.

From Breaking Bad's Walter White who is driven to crime supposedly, while only being a power fantasy for both the viewer and charachter, to the as popular as it is forgoten Game Of Thrones, or even the ever so Classic Sopranos - it's funny to see how all the things were already atleast half a decade old (and probably a lot more, just read the Coun of Montecristo, which may be more relevant to a certain topic so lets just wait for that in a certain video...)

But for examples, we have the narrator figure, a quasi tragic yet at the same time clear figure for the reader to insert and feel powerful - he gets seduced by a beautiful women, get's access to the highest court, has an mystical origin (being a proto-Moses figure, but thats another topic), gets into serious yet allways non-lethal adventures, ending like cartoons with last minute saves and contrivances - his growing mysantrophy and cynicism only making him appear more cool for school.

I think maybe that's what I'm getting at - many "serious" shows today (or maybe ever? Guess I'm actually kinda uncultured so who knows) - seem in a lot of ways more childish than the silliest cartoons - atleast the later do their gags for their own sake, not to get a one up on the people that bullied and spiteted them, which the motivation for most of these shows are.

But what am trying to say? Am I shiting on the book? Nah just on the shows, and even then not really - still like the Sopranos, the only one I truly dislike is Game Of Thrones and am happy that I only saw a few scenes and moments passing by the family tv years ago before it was ok to dislike it. Still one will ask, what my point is? Well I think it is, what actually makes it different from all the anti-hero tv shows afterall?

And I think it's the universal project of trying to get through all history, to give a map of humanitys progress - in both ways of a map of something existing and as a roadmap - to show where and how it all can go.

This is lacking even in the Sopranos, which in the end just stews in it's cynicism and condemns the viewer for even identifieng with the family - "they are killers and bigots, how can you care for them, you don't even the ending" - no end in sight, in all senses, no message for the future or possible resolution - like Walter White dieing in some redneck nazi bunker having removed himself from reality as the only possible solution.

Yes this book also ends in a sad way, but as I said with one in which I saw hope - the burying of his books seems more than just a framing device, but a message, that the future can and was influenced by all his experience, even if it took hundreds and thousands of years.

Even if he buried them to the void, as we all do who post here and other places, without getting any attention, not even hate mail or spam. Maybe it will all be deleted in a few years, maybe some catastrophy will destroy it even if it was backed up by some magic ai computer, yet still one has this absurd hope of what if?

So as the song stops mid scene for the anti hero, maybe it will continue for it's opposite some day as unexpectedly?

Damn.

(Also the book is mostly mundane with no supernatural elements, yet there is a guy whose ability is to just magically stop bleedings, guess I can't escape Soul Eater references lol)

[tempi-dispari]

New Post has been published on https://www.tempi-dispari.it/2023/09/27/great-master-oltre-lepico-montecristo/

Great Master, oltre l'epico: Montecristo

L’aspetto migliore dell’ascoltare tutti i dischi di una band è notarne l’evoluzione. Che lo si voglia o no, si cambia, si muta. Si evolve, appunto. Non sfuggono a questa legge i veterani Great Master con il loro ultimo Montecristo. La band, attiva dal 2009, pur rimanendo in ambito epic/power, ha decisamente mutato approccio. Questo cambio è il risultato di una costante crescita negli anni. Il songwriting è assolutamente maturo, soprattutto, personale.

I suoni sono curatissimi, come lo è l’intera produzione. Soprattutto, quello che colpisce, è la complessità dei brani. Pur rimanendo in un ambito ben specifico, i nostri hanno ‘complicato’ le cose in maniera decisa. Cambi di tempo, utilizzo incredibile di cori e armonie vocali, una sezione ritmica massiccia e impenetrabile. Insomma, il sigillo ad un salto di qualità evidente e positivo. Come da tradizione Great Master, anche questo disco è un concept.

Facile capire quale sia l’argomento. Il titolo è piuttosto esplicito. Diciamo subito che per apprezzare appieno il cd, se si consce il libro è meglio. Si riescono a cogliere riferimenti, citazioni, personaggi e situazioni. Diversamente, è sufficiente leggere i testi per immergersi nelle canzoni. La sequenza narrativa è del tutto rispettata dalla band. Allo stesso modo la musica si adatta alle diverse situazioni. Già ad un primo ascolto definire il disco ‘solo’ epic/power ne riduce la portata.

Al suo interno sono presenti sfumature di diverse influenze. Certo, le linee generali sono quelle citate. Tuttavia l’inserimento di queste sfumature porta il lavoro ad un altro livello. Probabilmente i puristi potrebbero storcere in naso di fronte a certe soluzioni. Si legga The shame lives. Hard rock, prog e power all’interno dello stesso brano. Molto particolare e apprezzabile il solo in pieno stile hard rock su batteria in levare e ritmica cadenzata. Diversi sono gli aspetti ‘sorprendenti’ che si susseguono nelle composizioni.

Richiami progressivi si presentano nei momenti più inattesi. Alcune volte sono solo passaggi, come in Im the master. Altre sono più incisivi. Allo stesso modo innegabili sono gli omaggi ai creatori del genere, Halloween in particolar modo. In quanto omaggi non sono stucchevoli o semplici scopiazzature. I Great Master tengono viva anche l’ottima capacità di scrivere ballate toccanti e coinvolgenti. È il caso di Nest of stone. Ballata delicata, malinconica, e allo stesso tempo complessa a livello strumentale.

A sottolinearlo ci pensano i diversi intrecci, soprattutto a livello ritmico. Batteria minimale ma che ‘nasconde’ controtempo capaci di creare atmosfere sospese. A queste contribuiscono i passaggi di piano, mai fermo, e le linee che spesso si staccano per percorrere vie proprie. L’intervento solista è pacato, limitato nella durata e per questo molto ben calibrato. Tenendo presente quanto fin qui detto, si può ben intendere che cosa voglia dire canone stilistico per la band.

Ed è su questo che si basano i brani successivi. Come nel romanzo, la seconda parte è più imponente, concitata, wagneriana se vogliamo. Il protagonista mette in atto la sua vendetta. Allo stesso modo i brani. Diventano più imponenti, ‘ampollosi’, non in senso negativo, epici. Ad iniziare da My name. Come per tutto il disco resta rilevante il lavoro fatto dalle chitarre che continuano ad intrecciarsi e a creare strutture ritmico melodiche decisamente interessanti. Come interessante è il break centrale.

Più che far prendere fiato, accentua la tensione generale in un impetuoso crescendo che sfocia nel solo. Da segnalare ancora Final revenge e On October 5th Wait And Hope. La prima come una summa di quello che il disco propone. Innumerevoli cambi, alternarsi di velocità e passaggi lenti, epicità e adrenalina. La seconda per il brak con il basso. Inatteso e molto ben strutturato.

Concludendo. Che siate amanti di Dumas o meno, l’importante è che vi piaccia la buona musica. E il disco dei Great Master ne è pieno. Non mancano i richiami ai classici ma fortunatamente i nostri vanno molto oltre. Il genere di riferimento, epic/power, è generalmente definito piuttosto autocelebrativo. Realtà come i nostri sfatano questo mito evidenziando come sia possibile evolvere in qualsiasi ambito.

Un disco il loro che potrebbe non piacere ai puristi, a chi pensa che un artista, una band, non possa evolvere perché si allontanerebbe troppo dagli stilemi del genere di appartenenza tradendone lo spirito. Se così non fosse, se non si rompessero gli schemi, composizioni come quelle dei Great Master non potrebbero mai nascere. Tanti complimenti alla band che è riuscita nel difficile intento di superare i propri stessi limiti, oltre che quelli musicali.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 13: Epilogue

Pairing: Victor Creed x Isabela Montecristo | Sabertooth x Vipress

Disclaimer: This series will have canon-accurate and heightened levels of violence, adult themes, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and graphic descriptions of sex. *Post-Origins movieverse.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word count: 3,500+

Series Summary: Victor Creed's reputation as the Sabertooth proceeds him. He clashes with a mysterious feral woman, an enigma and anomaly to everything he knows. What began as a hunt becomes a dance between like-minded predators.

🚨Warning: Explicit sex, adult situations, implied rape, graphic imagery, feral power play, slight dub-con/non-con overtones and undertones, descriptions of bloody gore and sadism, and a pinch of angst. I do not own any aspect or character of the Marvel Universe nor elements of the X-Men Origins movieverse.

A Feral Interlude Masterlist

A Feral Interlude, Chapter 13: Epilogue

He walked the feudal streets of the former imperial capital, guardedly watching the sights of people celebrating their ancestral festival with joy and excitement. Colorful lanterns decorated shrines and the ringing of bells chimed in echoes all around with the laughter and cheers of crowds. The feral wandered with no destination in mind, as had become his custom since he'd woken up with no memory of who or what he was.

Idly fingering his dog tags tucked under his shirt, Logan strolled down towards one of the biggest shrines in Kyoto on the other side of a vibrantly red bridge. The group of Japanese locals that bustled opposite him across the bridge paid him no attention as they discussed their plans and pointed out the lovely lotus lanterns that floated down river and under the bridge. Sniffing the air, Logan sifted the smell of snow that would come before nightfall as he crossed over to the shrine.

The subtle yet entrancing beauty of the Shinto shrine had attracted him since the first day he'd arrived in Kyoto. Across from the shrine he spotted a procession of beautiful geisha in their dazzling silks and alabaster faces with bright rouged lips. He stood off to the side under one of the shrine's torii, absently making sure not to lean against the gate as he shoved his hands into his leather jacket's pockets and watched the slow procession near. His gaze wandered from one lovely geisha up to the parasol of another before wandering over the procession and across at the stoic beauty of the surroundings.

She stood out to him immediately. Eyes like polished jade with a hint of gold in the middle; stark in their brilliance and focused alluringly on him.

Wearing a traditional kimono, she stood out from the surroundings. Not a geisha—her countenance wasn't painted with the white base mask of traditional geisha—but not a tourist either. His interest was piqued by her, but the long procession made it difficult for him to make his way towards the grove she was strolling by.

The sound of rambunctious children running by distracted him as he narrowly maneuvered out of the way from having the rowdy kids bump into him as they rushed towards the shrine. When he looked back at the spot she was in, she was gone. In an even pace, he strode around the procession and cut through a group of monks—apologizing curtly as he did so—and followed in the general direction the mysterious woman had been strolling in. Winding down a stone path that led back to the narrow streets of the imperial city, Logan wandered into the heavy foot traffic and looked around and over the throngs when he spotted a flash of her retreating kimono as it passed out of sight down a busy avenue. He followed, picking up the pace of his stride as he turned the corner.

He halted, perplexed to not see the mysterious woman anywhere and confused by the sudden scent that tickled his nose as a rickshaw passed him on the street. Turning, he missed catching sight of the rickshaw's passenger, but was instead left buzzing from a heady and raw perfume that was left in its wake—tantalizingly wild. Logan tried to sift the significance of such a tempting scent, but shook off the curiosity and muttered to himself, "It ain't a memory, bub. Just a nice-smelling geisha…"

Riding in the rickshaw, Isabela felt her pulse slow again. She hadn't been so close to another feral in what felt like ages now, let alone the very feral brother of her former lover. She hadn't expected to be lured by the gravitating scent that she'd caught in the breeze on her walk through the festival. She loved Japan and always held a fondness for the imperial capital. Kyoto had managed to remain as pristine as it had been at the end of the Tokugawa shogunate. The majesty of the city and all of its sites had lured her out into the crowds. She'd first caught his scent when the brooding feral was strolling through Maruyama Park and gazing up at the slumbering weeping cherry blossom tree. At first, she'd been confused by the familiarity of the scent and the unfamiliarity of the subject, until she'd seen him give a small smirk after he reached for a lonely pale pink blossom that was already in wilt and pressed it into his jacket pocket. The irreverent quirk of his boyish lips and the mirth that crinkled the corners of his eyes were very familiar and singularly reminiscent of Victor when he was devoid of any mischief or sadism; when amusement would curl genuinely free from the wickedness he wore like chainmail. Smiling, she was sure that the man had been the fabled Jimmy. His scent resembled Victor's, but unlike the feline feral, he had a softness in his brown eyes that disarmed her when they fell on her. He had looked young and bemused, struck by her, as if he'd never seen another feral before. It had stuck with her.

Musingly, she decided she would return to Tokyo before schedule. She suddenly felt ruffled by the proximity of another like her. It had made her yearn for contact—to share her true self with a being like her, especially one so close to the last person she'd tangled herself emotionally and physically with. Most of all, she'd been tempted to engage him and share her knowledge with him—about her and his brother. But the look in his eyes told her she and everyone in the world were strangers to him…it had unnerved her.

The animal wasn't pleased and whispered for her to remain as she's been: supreme and alone so as to avoid further entanglements of the mortal coil. Her intrigue curbed, she instructed the rickshaw man to take her to the train station. It was time she busy herself, and she knew Japan would keep her busy for quite a while thanks to its booming economy and rising global participation. Nothing better for a heavy heart than to toil at what one does best…

                      _____________________________________

It wasn't the Gobi desert, but he was sure if he stayed long under the blistering heat he definitely could go mad. He remembered a few times in Vietnam where he would be so overheated he would forget what he was doing—feel caged and need to lash out to gain his bearings. Wait, why am I even thinking of the Gobi-fucking-desert?

He tossed his head, rubbing the sweat out of his eyes as he leaned back on the tree branch and looked up at the rays of sun blazing through the canopy of trees all around him. He was high off the ground, balanced like a lounging big game cat. He'd radioed in for pickup over an hour ago, but that wasn't what he was worried about. Digging his claws into the tree bark, Victor brooded, eyes hooded and faraway as he tried to focus his thoughts. His mind flashed to Isabela sitting across from him, looking alluringly seductive as she smiled at him from behind a wine glass. Oh yeah…goddammit. 

Victor had lost track of how long it have been since rapture had fizzled out of his system, but every once in a while his mind would betray him with an errant memory or silly reminder of Vipress. His viper. Isabela Montecristo had sent a shock to his system, or at least that's what he told himself whenever he needed to get his mind off of her. Lately it hadn't taken that much effort, not with work keeping him occupied. Said work had taken him to most corners of the third world, including his current position. He liked government work. The perks were just as good as he remembered and the hassle was never his problem.

Having his bloodlust met and getting paid for it had alleviated some of his rancor and pent up impulsivity, leaving him to only brood over her. He had made it so he wouldn't have much time with his thoughts, and he liked it that way, until moments like this when all he had to do was think.

The murmur of a helicopter in the distance was a reprieve to his rising thoughts—his desires that left him angry and scornful and brashly strategizing his next move in recovering what was his. He needed time to distance himself from yet another blow to his ego…from yet another loss that he ultimately considered his fault.

With a growl, he stood up on the branch and began to climb his way up to the top of the tree, reaching the blazing sunlight beyond just as the helicopter came into his eye line from across the horizon.

                      _____________________________________

"An offer you can't refuse."

He both loved and hated that line now. Yeah, damn straight. Dan Dresner thought to himself as he gazed at the holographic archive that spun before him like a god come down from the heavens. It was all just so…beautiful. And he'd been involved—hell, he'd poured his mind and soul into it!

He didn't know where he was, who these people really were, or what side they were truly on, but he knew this could be used for both good and evil. The archive was unlike anything ever put together before. For once he felt a part of something revolutionary. Unlike his work for Stryker, his ability was used for knowledge's sake…for now anyway. He wasn't naïve. He knew that if Fury was just another Stryker—that all his work would go to mobilize destruction, human and mutant alike…but he didn't believe Fury was like Stryker.

Dan couldn't say he knew the man, but he knew what he'd read from him: Nick Fury was a man who loved his country and would do anything to defend it, short of the atrocities committed by evil men he'd fought against his whole military career. As far as Dan was concerned, he was doing good work, and was no longer ashamed or taking his powers for granted.

"Archeion, access mutant database. Codename: Archive," he instructed.

"Archive not registered, sir. Would you like to register?" The feminine-voiced computer asked.

"Yes," he responded, stepping into the middle of the hologram just as two electrodes descended from the central pedestal's ceiling console to attach to his temples. "Commence."

He closed his eyes and began to load into the computer all his self-knowledge about his mutant persona: Archive. Dan wasn't going to be a coward; he was committed to the whole process, good and bad of it. If it meant that he was now part of some list, so be it. There was no turning back, and for once, he wasn't scared of having to move forward into the uncertain future.

                      _____________________________________

Highlights of the Iranian Revolution played out on the screen mounted on the wall, the sound muted. The rest of the modern penthouse was sterile and utilitarian save for the dazzling view of Tokyo behind the plush couch she was lounging on as she watched the television. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini rallied the crowds as the new Supreme Leader, and Isabela couldn't help muse ambivalently on how close she had played a part in any of it. It seemed to her that no matter how much she strove to remain distant from the mainstream world, she always found herself ensnared in sequences of events that would shape the present and future of a society. It was all too close for comfort.

Standing, she turned her back on the inset television that took up most of the wall and set her attention on the amazing view from her penthouse window.

It was yet another tower, separated from all the buildings around her, but unlike her place in NYC, it was much colder and severe. The style suited her lately, uncluttered and serene, albeit post-modern. After leaving Kyoto, she'd spent weeks on end staring out the window, just as she was now, wondering about her place in the world. Her beliefs had been shaken, undermined by the whirlwind she'd been swept up in, and all she could do was reflect on it all from the detached objectivity afforded to her by the beast within.

The viper…the animal inside of her had always been there to guide her. It would always be there for her, and during times of great soul searching, it was there to remind her: You are lethal. You are vicious. You are mighty. And you are me. We are indestructible and unattainable. 

This time, she wavered. Looking at her reflection in the glass, she stared into her preternatural gaze and thought that she was not alone. There were other animals like her out there, just as indestructible and fierce as she, but not as unrelentingly detached from the world. She had already crossed paths with one, and there were times when Victor weighed on her mind so persistently that she wondered if it wasn't time for her to rethink her path.

You'll cross paths again. If you choose to be his then…we will be his. 

The primordial whisper assured her, and she retreated to it, glad to be fortified by the gesture and soothed in the irrevocable acceptance of fate being what she would make. Isabela looked down on the world below, hope blossoming within her for the new decade before her and the absence of guilt she felt from the one past her.

                      _____________________________________

He much preferred subzero temperatures to sub-Saharan heat any day. The only problem with the cold climate was that blood would ice over and crystallize under his claws, which made them ache if he didn't pick them clean. Otherwise, the cold always gave him some sick form of comfort.

Victor made his way through the knee-deep snow, unfazed by the wind that whipped around him and obscured the landscape ahead. He was deep in the Northwest Territories, probably closer to the border of Yukon by now. The solitude of the almost polar landscape was an excellent place for his next rendezvous. Even with the modern conveniences of snowmobiles, most humans couldn't navigate the terrain. It was cruel and hostile—just like him.

Smirking, he scraped some of the frost that was collected along the fur of his jaw and made his way over an incline that camouflaged the secret base. He effortlessly trekked down to the unsecured series of structures, sniffing the air for any signs of vehicle exhaust. Looking east, he spotted the hangar and headed in route to it. Pushing the heavy side door open, Victor kicked the door closed after him, sealing the snow and howling wind outside as he loped over to the man sitting on the steps of the armored military helicopter. Which military? Victor didn't know and didn't care.

"What part of 'I'm on vacation' dontcha understand, huh, Hudson?" Victor groused acerbically as he approached the man, who was busying himself by lighting the cigarette dangling on his lip.

"The part where you come here for some R & R. Figured you were more bored than needing to relax," Hudson responded, inhaling deep and letting the puff of smoke exhale in a cloud from his nostrils. "Just cuz I said there were no supervisors doesn't mean yer not supposed to check in, Creed. And by the way, since when did you get into wearing fur? Kind of a weird look on yah, buddy," he straight-faced joked as he puffed away on his cigarette.

Dusting the melting snow off of his fur-lined trenchcoat, Victor snorted, "This ain't your mother's furs, asshole. 'Only wear what I kill, and this grizzly sure put up a fight; couldn't let the pelt go to waste." The other man whistled in response. "You didn't come here to give me shit about my fashion sense. What do yah want?" Victor muttered and gave him a calculating look that told the other man he hadn't trekked so far for low-rent shit.

Tucking the cigarette between his fingers, Hudson grabbed a folder that was sitting on the top step of the helicopter before tossing it to Victor. "Yah probably heard about this during your tenure with Striker." When Victor tilted his head in that dangerous way, Hudson quickly added, "A tenure we will never discuss, I remember."

Eyeing him sharply before pulling the form out of the file, Victor grunted and skimmed the old CIA form. His eyes lingered over a codename and he looked over at Hudson before looking at the name again, shoving the form back into the file and tossing it back at him. "Yeah, I heard about it, and I ain't interested," he stated with irrevocable steel in his tone.

"Yah sure?" the man said coolly as he stubbed out his cigarette on the side of the stairs.

"You guys can't afford me for this job. I'd charge double if I was interested, and I'm not interested," Victor remarked, his thumbnails idly flicking his other nails in succession, pinky to forefinger and visa versa. It was a telltale sign that he was impatient.

Hudson read the gesture and stood. "Alright. Not gunna lie, I was hoping you'd take it. Yer the only guy I could think of with the balls to go after him—"

"You fuckin' suck at flattery, Hudson, so can it. And do me a favor—don't fucking patronize me again," he let the deadly edge of his tone weigh the air before continuing, "Don't think just cuz I'll kill my own kind for money that I'm gonna help your kind tip the scales back in your collective favor."

"Figured you for a non-political kind of mutant, Creed, wouldn't peg you for a Homo-Superior—"

"So you pegged me for a self-loathing mutant bastard who'd wanna off a guy who thinks mutants are superior to humans? Last time I checked, you don't get paid to figure or peg—you get paid to hand out missions and get the fuck out of the way of the masters. And this fuckin' master is sayin' he's gonna pass on this…understood?" Victor snarled hostilely, watching as the other man shrugged and put his hands up in surrender of the argument.

"Got it, Creed. Sorry I disturbed your vay-kay. Just do me a favor: when yer done with the uninhabitable solitude, give me a call. I'll have something lined up for yah…" Hudson stated and with that, gave Victor a backwards wave as he turned and walked up the steps into the state of the art helicopter.

Victor watched the steps recede and the helicopter seal shut just as the roof of the hangar split and opened upwards. The advanced aircraft ascended into the howling elements, leaving the feral to huff and turn back towards the way he came. By the time he was stalking up the incline the helicopter was humming out of sight. Sprinting through the treeline, Victor prowled on all fours and galloped the rest of the way back to his hideout.

He had to admit, for the Sabertooth to be considered capable enough to be asked to take out Erik Lensherr was testament to how he'd come up in the world. Sure, he didn't take the job, but it meant he wasn't a lowly mercenary; he wasn't a guy you'd call to take out third world garbage anymore. More importantly, he was a man with options, someone to be up-sold and feared.

A smirk tugged on his boyish lips as he stared into the fire of his rustic hearth. It was a new decade, and a new day for Victor Creed. All the things—her—that he'd been longing for were pushed to the background in his mind. His solitary spirit was fortified and his pride swelled from the thought that he was at a place he'd always wanted to be: free, unburdened by guilt, and powerful in his own right. When it came down to it, he was the king of his mountain, and he liked his odds at staying on top. Most importantly, he was genuinely proud for the first time since he and Jimmy embraced their natures and formed their brotherhood close to a hundred years before.

The animal and the man were in true harmony…and nothing would change or stand in the way of that now.

The End.

____________________

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