#it paid off and worked perfectly. got that cape piece cut in one go
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At long last, sheâs finally done and my set is more or less complete!!!! Hereâs Miss Melusine from F/GO!!!!!! I picked her 2nd ascension dress because that was just the most feasible to do with craft felt, and I think she came out super cute!!!!! I wen out of my way to embroider the designs on her mask and cape, thanks to the redditors who managed to pull up her battle sprite sheet so I could get an unobstructed view of her capeâs decorations! I want to try and do something special for a group shot of the little LB6 doll collection Iâve made once weâre a little closer to the chapter actually releasing on NA, but in the meantime I hope you all enjoy her!!!!
#fate grand order#plushies#my art#edit: i did forget to mention that she took a little longer than usual (though not as long as baggie did oops)#because i ran out of the dark blue felt i used for her cape and only had scraps left#and it was either gamble on those scraps OR put her on hold until i went to the craft store to restock#and i chose the safer option of waiting until i could go to the craft store#it paid off and worked perfectly. got that cape piece cut in one go
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How about jealous kisses?
i��m hoping you were thinking w/ loki? if not then heh oops sorry babe. this got a lil spicier n longer than i intended.
i asked @picassho-18 for inspo to move my writing along and she told me, without cracking a smile, âgrab his dick.â sooooo i did.
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Getting Loki out of the house is a struggle in and of itself.
Getting him out of the house in anything besides a much too expensive three-piece suit, his full armoured ensemble, or a fucking cape is something else entirely.
You decided youâd had enough late last night when he asked to accompany you to the grocery store, then proceeded to walk to the door in a leather battle suit and, you guessed it, a long blue and gold cape.
âOkay...weâve got to get you some normal clothes,â you had remarked, looking him up and down. âWeâre going to the mall tomorrow and weâre not leaving until youâve gotten a somewhat normal closet.â
He had quickly checked his leather shirt, making sure the gold emblems are still glinting on his chest. âDo you not like what I have?â
âNo, no, trust me, you look hot as hell in everything you wear.â You gestured to your own clothes, a ratty old t shirt and baggy sweatpants. âBut weâre just going to the store. Literally just to get a stick of butter. I donât think the cape is necessaryâŚâ
Loki feigned offense, handing you the car keys and striding out the door with a dramatic swish of his cape. âYouâre just jealous, darling. Letâs go.â
That landed him in the middle of a huge department store the very next day, being dragged towards the fitting rooms by your overexcited self with piles of clothes draped over your arms.
âHow many items?â There's an attendant at the counter in the fitting rooms, a young lady who looks just a little older than you.
âUh...somewhere over 15?â Youâd grabbed so many things for him to try on, you lost count after shirt number seven.
The lady chuckles, tucking a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. âNormally we donât allow more than five items at a time,â she glances over at Loki whoâs still sulking behind you, giving him a good look from head to toe. âBut I think Iâll let it slide for you.â
Sheâs not talking to you anymore, only to Loki, who seems bored and completely uninterested in anything she has to say. Shooting the lady a confused glance, you thank her and take Lokiâs hand, shoving him in a dressing room stall.
âHere you go, here, here,â you happily toss the clothes at him, hanging some up as he groans, already dreading this inevitable process. âAaaaand here. Have fun, snowflake. Show me everything you try on!â
You slam the stall door shut before he can protest any further.
A few minutes pass and you can still hear his incessant grumbling through the door. âWhy would anyone put themselves through the torture of wearing these pants?â
The door to the dressing room swings open and Loki storms out, stomach bare for all to see and fidgeting with the waist of a pair of dark grey jeans. âThese are ridiculously uncomfortable. Much too tight, in all the wrong places.â
He throws his arms out and turns in a circle, letting you scrutinise the pants.
Well...naturally, he looks fucking delicious. You start to open your mouth to say something, but that same fitting room attendant rushes over to cut you off.
âOh, those look wonderful,â she gushes, standing right in front of you, eyes raking the god up and down. âA little tight, you said? Take those off, Iâll get you a better size.â
Loki looks a bit surprised by her eagerness to help. âNo, it quite alright. I certainly donât want to wear anything close to this ever again.â
She laughs, an annoyingly high pitched giggle, resting her hand on his bicep and promising to be right back with a properly fitting pair of jeans.
His bicep? Her hand? SheâsâŚtouching him?
UhâŚjust WHAT does she think sheâs doing??
Yeah, you know that move. A little too well, considering youâve used it on the same god this lady is attempting to feel up. Lucky for you, your flirtations had actually paid off.
âShe doesnât hide it very well, does she?â Loki chuckles, watching her retreating back and ignoring the steam starting to come out of your ears.
âSheâs not trying to hide anything, babe. She might as well just grab your dick right in front of me,â you mutter through gritted teeth. Loki turns to look at you, noticing your dangerously narrowed eyes and clenched jaw and he canât help but laugh.
The look in your eyes is nothing short of murderous.
âYou donât hide it very well either, darling,â he laughs and pulls you into his arms. âLetâs not kill her just yet. Maybe she is just extremely friendly.â
YeaaahhâŚthatâs unlikely. âPut a shirt on,â you tell him, smacking his chest with the back of your hand. âDonât give her a view she doesnât deserve.â
He rolls his eyes but thankfully obliges, and the lady is back just as he buttons the last button of the black shirt, a pair of jeans in her hand.
She stops in her tracks and shamelessly gives him a thorough once overâyour blood pressure couldnât possibly be higher by now.
âOh, that shirt fits you perfectly! WhoopsiesâŚâ
Oh my god, sheâs purring.
â...you missed a button.â The lady steps in front of him and Loki takes a step back, shooting you a worried glance. But you're dumbfounded, gaping at this crazy woman so blatantly making a move on your man: she rests her hands on his chest and starts playing with the button between his pecs, occasionally looking up at him through her eyelashes.
Loki is desperately trying to squirm away from her shameless hands, but sheâs practically cornered him in the little fitting room.
Finally you snap out of it, catching Lokiâs pointed and pleading look for assistance, and you loudly clear your throat. âMaybe I can do that?â
The lady starts at the harshness in your voice, reluctantly backing away from Loki. âOh...yes, of course.â
Giving her as deadly of a glare as you can muster, you take the opportunity to shove past her and run your hands over Lokiâs chest. âI think youâre capable of buttoning your own damn shirt,â you mutter, fixing the buttons and tucking the shirt down the front of his pants a little rougher than you intended.
His eyebrow quirks up in amusement, pointing out the obvious. âAnd yet you are the one keeping me up against the wallâŚâ
âOh, shut up. I know youâre enjoying this.â
âYou do look so adorable when you get jealous,â he murmurs, pulling at the waistband of his jeans. âPossessiveness is a delightful look on you. Now hand me those other pants, I canât breathe in these.â
He goes back into the dressing room while you sit outside, scrolling through your phone as you wait. The attendant lady has thankfully returned to her little counter, going through racks of unwanted clothes, and you can feel her glowering at you.
Hah...looks like youâve got something she wants.
Poor dear.
Still...you just canât resist rubbing it her face a little more. She really shouldnât have had her hands all over him. That just took it a bit too far.
You stand up with an innocent smile and rap your knuckles on Lokiâs fitting room door. âNeed help in there?â
Thereâs a grunt and you hear the schiiip of a zipper. âIs that allowed?â
You try to bite back your giggle when the ladyâs head shoots up at the sound of Lokiâs voice, glaring daggers at you. âMaybe not,â you hum, a hand resting on the door handle. âBut thatâs never stopped us before.â
The door swings open before you can do anything else, startling you as Loki steps out with a grin and lightly pinches your cheek. âWretched little thing...you are being unusually frisky today.â He extends his arms again and slowly turns around, putting his new outfit on display for you. âIf I had known this would be the effect of midgardian fashion, I would have gone shopping ages ago.â
You swear you can feel the angered heat radiating from the lady at the counter.
âMhmmâŚyou look like a five course meal, babe. And Iâm hungry.â You grab his shirt and yank him down, smashing your lips to his.
That certainly takes him by surprise and he almost trips, the two of you stumbling back into the fitting room until youâve got Loki pushed against the mirror. Youâre grabbing his face to yours, clutching at his shirt, biting his lip, scratching at his back...and definitely not holding back any noises, grunts, or quiet moans you feel so inclined to makeâincluding the loud, over exaggerated smack when you finally wrench your lips from his.
The god canât even form a complete sentence.
âIâŚgoodness. Uh, darling...what was that?â
You sling an arm around his neck and pull him back down to your lips, just barely running your tongue along his lower lip. âI donât like the way sheâs looking at you,â you murmur, nipping at his lip once youâve finished with your tongue. âI gotta make sure she knows youâre mine.â
Well shit, that is apparently an attitude Loki finds mighty attractive. You know, just judging by the way he snarls and grabs your waist, jerking you back into a ferocious kiss that takes the breath right out of your lungs.
âAHEM. Sorry to interruptâŚâ
Whaaat? Did that dressing room lady just happen to see Lokiâs hands all over your ass? Bummer.
You rip your lips from his and turn around, noting the beautiful deep flush of Lokiâs cheeks. âCan we help you?â
Oh, sheâs pissed alright. âOnly one person per fitting room, please,â she growls through gritted teeth. Thenâoh hell no, she still has the nerve to look at him like that? You watch in utter astonishment as she has the audacity to let her gaze travel up to his hips and stay there, staring shamelessly at the obvious bulge in Lokiâs new jeans.
And then she licks her lips.
Looking at your god like some kind of damn lollipop.
Your brain just kind of...stops working for a minute, red-hot rage filling your head. The back of your mind is screaming at you to calm the hell down, but-but...heâs yours and well, she crossed the line for âacceptable viewingâ a while ago.
Your hand is groping the front of his pants before you even have a chance to think twice.
The yelp that comes from Lokiâs mouth is barely human and his back slams against the wall in complete shock at your actions. Your fingers curl around him and heâs fumbling like an idiot, hands grasping at your languidly exploring hand and the clothes rack behind him, trying to keep himself upright. âWhaâoh Norns...hell, what has gotten into you?â
The ladyâs jaw drops as you boldly palm him, daring her to take one step closer or say one more thing to the writhing god under your hand. Immediately flushing cherry red, she gives an angry huff and storms away, muttering something about calling her manager.
You might get kicked out of a department store for this, but hey, itâs always nice to get Loki all flusteredâsince it happens so rarelyâand especially if itâs in public.
Payback for all he does to you.
âYou...you can stop now,â he rasps, grabbing your wrist.
But he looks so pretty, all red in the face with his hair disheveled from your hands running through it, crumbling to a complete, out of control messâall by your doing. His head is thrown back against the wall of the dressing room, mouth slightly agape and chest heaving with your every move.
âNow whereâs the fun in that?â You murmur, using your other hand to pull him back down to you for another kiss. âWeâre gonna get kicked out any second now, might as well make it worth it.â
âGood gods, darling, remind me to make you jealous more often,â he pants and you grab his lip between your teeth again. He clutches onto the clothes rack behind him for dear life, unable to believe that you are doing this when the people in the dressing rooms a couple doors down can so obviously hear youâitâs completely something that he would do to you, never the other way around.
Yet here you are, rubbing him silly through those jeansâwhich are most definitely coming home with youâand shoving your tongue into his mouth, pressing him up against the mirror in a public dressing room.
Youâre not exactly sure what you are doing, much less why, but all thatâs running through your mind is how that lady was practically undressing him with her eyes, so plainly wanting what is rightfully, well, yours.
Not that you can honestly blame her.
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hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!
loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @sciluvcatz @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai
#loki fanfic#loki laufeyson#loki x reader#loki drabbles#loki requests#loki fluff#jealous!loki#loki fanfiction#possessive!loki#loki odinson#loki x reader fluff#jealous loki#loki imagine#loki funny#loki kiss#loki x you#loki#loki fic#loki (marvel)#marvel#marvel drabble#marvel requests#marvel fanfic#marvel loki#requests
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44 BFT!!
44: Public Kiss
Sterling had never seen the palace in such a state of uproar. Heâd been only a child when the last royal wedding had taken place between the current Emperor Elias and Empress Alexandra. What he hadnât been able to appreciate then was exactly how much work goes into organizing an event of this magnitude.Â
Now, of course, he was able to appreciate this in full. He was starting to dream about guard duty. The amount of people coming and going with gifts and preparations and messages was mind-boggling, and it was up to the guards to ensure everyoneâs safety. And donât even get him started on the amount of foreign dignitaries who demanded an escort.Â
But very soon it was all going to be worth it because heâd managed to secure a spot guarding the actual wedding ceremony. It was almost as good as being an actual guest, and he was getting paid. From his spot by the side doors, he had quite a good view of the altar, and he was accompanied, of course, by Amos who was in a state of wild excitement, dressed in his most polished armor.Â
All of the guards were. The captain had been quite specific: show up looking your best or donât show up at all. Visitors from all over the known world were in attendance. It was the duty of the guards to represent Hamelin at its best.Â
The basilica was quickly filling up with these visitors. Sterling and Amos guided those who had entered through the side doors to their seats, and, of course, kept an eye out for any restricted persons who might try to enter. Generally though, Sterling suspected, they were there for show. Surely, no one would try anything on such a joyous occasion as this.Â
After a while, the tide of people entering began to slow, and the excitement began to build. Sterlingâs watchful gaze flickered over the sea of guests, seated in rows all facing towards the altar. He recognized a few familiar faces. There was the captain, Arlo himself, with his wife and chief advisor Cornelia with her husband. There was the Cawtermaster, and the Taskmaster, and the Hootenany. In the interests of diplomacy, invitations had been sent out to other kingdoms, and in the interests of sizing up the future emperor and empress, they had been accepted. The envoys from Al Mamoon and Ding Dong Dell were under close supervision by the guards.Â
Suddenly, everyone fell silent. Music had started upâa traditional, formal piece. It was about to begin.Â
XXX
âAre you excited?â asked Annabelle, a young woman with long wavy hair the pale yellow of sandstone and serious brown eyes. Currently, her blonde hair was tucked into a tidy bun at the base of her neck, and she was wearing a floor-length light purple gown.Â
Kyoko nodded with an anxious smile. She was seated on a velvet stool in a small dressing room off to the side of the main hall of the basilica, and her mother, Yuka, was fussing with her hair.Â
âAre you nervous?â Annabelle asked.Â
âA little bit,â Kyoko admitted. Truthfully, her heart was pounding in her chest, but that couldâve been excitement just as easily.Â
âWhy is that?â Annabelle asked. âI thought you were sure of this.âÂ
Kyoko smiled. Annabelleâs practical nature had made her the obvious choice for maid of honor. âI am sure,â she said. âIâm not nervous about getting married. Iâm more nervous about all those people looking at me.âÂ
Annabelle nodded her understanding. Yuka removed a hair pin from between her lips and finished securing her daughterâs hair. âDonât be,â she said sternly. âForget all of those people. This is your big day. Enjoy it!âÂ
Kyoko smiled. âIâll do my best, Mother.âÂ
âYour hair is done,â Yuka said. âAnnabelle, will you help me with the veil? Iâm afraid Iâll ruin her hair.âÂ
âOf course, maâam,â Annabelle said. She picked up the gossamer-thin stretch of material, studded with sparkling silver sequins and jewels in the shapes of ivy and stars, and went to stand beside Yuka.Â
Kyoko held still as Yuka and Annabelle placed the veil on the top of her head and fastened it in place. The fabric was surprisingly soft against her face, but it did obscure her vision considerably, so she was glad when they pulled it back away from her face.Â
Her mother considered her thoughtfully, looking from the crown of her head (which was not currently crowned but would be later) to the hem of her ivory skirt. âDone,â she said after a moment. âYou can look now.âÂ
Kyoko hopped up gleefully and went to the full length mirror standing in the corner. She gasped in delight when she saw herself. She was radiant and sparkling like a perfectly cut diamond. Her black hair was pinned on the top of her head while the veil spilled down over her shoulders, framing the bodice of her wedding gown. The dress was the most expensive thing she had ever worn, but her betrothed had insisted she get any dress she wanted, and she had no regrets. She felt gorgeous.Â
âYou look beautiful, Kyoko,â said Annabelle sincerely. âYouâre going to make a great princess.âÂ
Her mother squeezed her shoulders. âPerfect.âÂ
Kyoko turned and looked at them both over her shoulder, feeling her skirt unfurl like the petals of a flower, and beamed. âThank you,â she said.Â
âIt was my pleasure,â Annabelle said.Â
âOf course,â said Yuka.Â
Kyoko hugged them both in turn and said, âHow long?âÂ
Yuka glanced at the clock on the wall. âSoon. Everyone should be seated now. It should be any minute.âÂ
Kyokoâs heart skipped a beat. Underneath the many layers of her skirt, she bounced her foot up and down.Â
âHave you seen the prince yet?â Annabelle asked after a moment.Â
Kyoko smiled gratefully. Annabelle knew just what to ask to keep her distracted. âNot since yesterday. Itâs bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, you know. Roark doesnât believe in superstition, but he also doesnât believe in tempting fate.âÂ
Annabelle nodded. âIt will make your reunion more meaningful anyway.âÂ
Kyoko nodded and bounced on the heels of her feet. âIâm excited to see him.â She grinned. âHow do you think heâll react when he sees me?âÂ
âKyoko, you know I canât read his expressions. Iâm convinced youâre making them up,â said Annabelle.Â
Kyoko laughed. âNo, I promise, Iâm not! I think heâll smile.âÂ
Just then, there came a knock at the door. Kyoko went to answer it, but Annabelle, being closer, beat her to it.Â
It was a palace guard. âMiss Kyoko? Mrs. Yuka? Miss Annabelle?âÂ
âYes?â said Kyoko.Â
âItâs beginning. Iâm to escort you to the rest of the wedding party.âÂ
Kyoko drew a sharp breath and grasped the hands of her mother and maid of honor. âLead the way,â she said.Â
XXX
All of the guests were seated. Sterling and Amos were guarding the side doors. Sterling had been briefed on the ceremony which meant that any moment nowâŚ
There came a quiet knock at the door. That was their cue. Sterling and Amos sprang into action, opening the double doors in unison, and three people walked through, straight across the front of the basilica towards the altar.Â
The first was a woman that Sterling recognized as Minerva, a high-ranking judge. She was dressed in purple and gold, the traditional colors of a royal wedding ceremony. The second was the emperor, Elias himself, looking very regal in purple. And the third was the groomâCrown Prince Roark. He looked incredibly striking in black and white.Â
Sterling watched Minerva go to stand behind the altar. The prince stood on the far side with his father behind him. His expression was carefully neutralâserious but not dour. He was wearing a sweeping midnight cape over a dark gray and white suit. On his head sat a metal crown, encrusted with clear jewels.Â
âOh, doesnât he look handsome?â Amos whispered with very much the sort of tone one might expect from an elderly woman.Â
Sterling rolled his eyesâthey werenât supposed to be talkingâbut he nodded. The prince looked very fine, very regal. Just as he should on his wedding day.Â
The music swelled, and the guests all stood. The main doors swung open, held by two of Sterlingâs fellow guards.Â
The first to walk down the aisle was the empress Alexandra who was smiling with the smug pride that suggested she had planned the entire thing. She was followed by Yuka, the mother of the bride, smiling more sedately but with her own kind of pride.Â
They were followed by four young women, walking down the aisle in pairs. Sterling recognized the first two as Captain Arloâs daughters, Genevieve and Vivian. The other two he couldnât put names too, but they looked familiar. All four were dressed in light purple gowns and grinning with excitement.Â
Next came the maid of honor. Sterling recognized her too. She was Annabelle, Corneliaâs daughter. She looked very pretty and happy as she followed her friends down the aisle.Â
And thenâKyoko herself stepped through the doors on the arm of her father Taro, head of engineering. The crowd let out a murmur of awe. She was stunning. The happiness obvious on her face only added to her already considerable beauty.Â
She walked down the aisle, slowly, gracefully, with a radiant smile on her face, her gaze fixed forward to where her groom awaited her at the altar.Â
Sterling turned to glance briefly at the prince and then his gaze snapped back in surprise. The princeâs expression had changed from neutral toâthere was no other word for itâbesotted. His lips were curved in a small smile, and his eyes were full of affection as he watched Kyoko walk down the aisle. Sterling noticed she was looking back at the prince, and it seemed him that they were having a whole conversation, just between the two of them, through the strength of their gazes alone.Â
Kyoko reached the altar and released her fatherâs arm. He went to stand next to his wife who smiled, and Kyoko instantly clasped her groomâs hands across the altar. The obvious love between the two of them was enough to bring a smile to Sterlingâs lips despite his best efforts to remain professional.Â
He hoped if he ever got married heâd be that happy and in love.Â
âFriends, family, citizens of Hamelin, visitors from faraway lands,â Minerva began in a clear, calm voice. âWe are gathered here today for one singular purpose: to celebrate the joining of two hearts in marriage. You have come to bear witness to the union of our Crown Prince, Roark, and Kyoko, daughter of Taro.â
âThroughout the history of the Empire,â she continued, âour emperors and empresses have rarely ruled alone. There is a reason it is customary for the crown princes and princesses of Hamelin to seek a husband or wife when they become of age, and it is simply that two is better than one. We have long understood marriage as one of the most important kinds of partnerships: where two individuals join together to become stronger and better than either would be on their own. It is our hope and our belief that the two of you will form such a union. You will be strong when the other feels weak. You will be brave when the other is frightened. You will be kind when the other is hurt. And in all of this, you will act as partners and support each other as you serve our Empire and one day lead it.âÂ
Minerva paused to reflect the seriousness of her statement before she turned to the prince and said, âDo you, Prince Roark, declare your intention to take this woman, Kyoko, as your lawfully wedded wife?âÂ
âI do,â said the prince. For the first time, he turned his gaze away from his bride to look at the judge. His expression was deadly serious without a hint of hesitation.Â
Minerva nodded and turned to Kyoko. âAnd do you, Kyoko, daughter of Taro, declare your intention to take this man, Roark, as your lawfully wedded husband?âÂ
âI do!â she said quickly. Her gaze flickered to the judge, smiled, and then landed back on her groom.Â
Minerva turned her gaze back out to the audience. âPrince Roark and Miss Kyoko have declared their intention to marry, but no couple can live in isolation, and no prince and princess can one day lead without the support of their people. I now ask the citizens of Hamelin to rise.â
Sterling was already standing, but Amos stood up straighter, and all but a few foreign delegates in the crowd stood up from their seats and faced the altar.Â
âDo you, the citizenry of Hamelin, support the union of Prince Roark and Kyoko, daughter of Taro, recognize its validity, and swear to honor them as the future emperor and empress of Hamelin?âÂ
âWe do!â said Amos.Â
âWe do,â said Sterling.Â
âWe do!â chorused the crowd.Â
âYou may be seated,â said Minerva. She turned to look back at the bride and groom. âNow comes the time for the reading of the vows. I would remind you that these are among the most solemn of promises two persons can make and to look back on these vows during times of trial as a reminder of the commitment you have made to each other.âÂ
She turned to look at the prince who paused briefly and then spoke. âI, Prince Roark of Hamelin, take you, Kyoko, daughter of Taro, to be my wife, the mother of my children, my princess, and one day, my empress. I swear myself to you, from now until the end of time. I shall love you when we are together and when we are apart, in times of peace and in times of war, in times of health and times of sickness. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, and I shall never love anyone else. I devote myself to you.â
Sterling watched Kyokoâs shoulder rise and fall in a deep breath, her face beaming with joy. âI, Kyoko, daughter of Taro, take you, Prince Roark of Hamelin, to be my lover, my best friend, and my husband. I swear to remain true to you throughout the good times and the bad and to love you with my whole heart forever and ever.âÂ
Sterling heard a strange gasping sound from nearby and turned to look at Amos who was suspiciously bleary-eyed. Are you crying? Sterling mouthed.Â
The other guard nodded tearfully. Sterling rolled his eyes and patted him on the shoulder. He supposed it all was rather beautiful. The two seemed to really love each other. That was certainly the most impassioned speech heâd ever heard from the prince before.Â
âIt is time for the rings,â Minerva said. The emperor and the maid of honor each stepped forward. The emperor handed the princeâs ring to Kyoko, and the maid of honor handed Kyokoâs ring to the prince.Â
The couple held the rings like they were something precious and fragile. Sterling supposed they were. He was willing to bet they were worth more than a monthâs pay a piece.Â
The prince took his brideâs hand in his, tenderly, as if it were worth even more than the ring he grasped in the other, and slid it onto her finger. âLet this ring be a symbol of my devotion and love for you. I am honored to call you my wife.âÂ
And then she took his hand and slid the ring onto his finger. âI give you this ring as a reminder of my love. Wear it and think of me and know that I love you. I am honored to call you my husband.âÂ
Minerva spoke. âBy the power vested in me by the Empire of Hamelin, I now pronounce you husband and wife.âÂ
The couple stepped forward in front of the altar and clasped hands. Kyoko gently leaned in and kissed him on the lips. The prince reached up and tenderly cupped her face. Then they parted and turned to the crowd who all applauded. The whole exchange lasted less than five seconds, but Sterling felt like he had witnessed something shockingly intimate.Â
In most wedding ceremonies, that wouldâve been the end of it, but this was no ordinary wedding. It was a royal wedding, so when the crowd had settled down, Minerva spoke again.Â
âAs the wife of our prince, Miss Kyoko must be granted her own title. I turn to the emperor now to perform the coronation ceremony.â She bowed and stepped back to allow Emperor Elias to take her place behind the altar.Â
âKyoko, daughter of Taro, come forward,â declared the emperor. It wouldâve been quite intimidating, Sterling imagined, were it not for the gleam of mirth in his eyes. Sterling suspected he knew what it was the emperor found so amusingâthe prince was blushing quite a lovely shade of pink as he looked at his wife.Â
She did as she was asked, gliding over to stand in front of the emperor, the train of her gown trailing behind her. Even though the eyes of the kingdom were on here, she looked poised and elegant. Sterling was impressed. Guards had to go through a month of training to learn the art of remaining poised under pressure.Â
âDo you, Kyoko, firstborn daughter of Chief Engineer Taro, accept the royal title of princess of Hamelin and all of the responsibilities it entails?â the emperor intoned.Â
âI, Kyoko, firstborn daughter of Chief Engineer Taro, accept the royal title of princess of Hamelin and all of the responsibilities it entails,â she said steadily.Â
âDo you swear to serve the Empire and honor its constitution in all that you do?âÂ
âI swear to serve the Empire and honors its constitution in all that I do.âÂ
âDo you vow to remain loyal to the Empire and the crown for as long as you shall live?âÂ
Kyoko didnât hesitate. âI vow to remain loyal to the Empire and the crown for as long as I shall live.â Sterling thought he saw a flicker of a smile cross the princeâs face.Â
The emperor turned to the crowd. âDo you, the citizens of Hamelin, recognize Kyoko, daughter of Taro, as a princess of Hamelin?âÂ
âWe do,â chorused the crowd, Sterling and Amos included.Â
From behind the altar, Minerva drew something sparkling and white out of a drawer and handed it reverently to the emperor who bade Kyoko to kneel. She got down on one knee.Â
Carefully, solemnly, the emperor placed what Sterling now recognized as a delicate golden crown on Kyokoâs head and spoke, âRise, Kyoko, princess of Hamelin.âÂ
The princess rose and turned to face the crowd. She walked back to her husbandâs side and took his hand, smiling gently.Â
The judge cleared her throat and spoke. âI present to you the newly wed Prince Roark and Princess Kyoko.âÂ
Amos burst into applause, quickly followed by Sterling and the rest of the audience, as the new princess and her husband started down the aisle and the wedding party began to file out of the basilica. Sterling wouldâve liked the chance to celebrate the newlyweds, but he had a job to do. The guests werenât going to safely file out of the building on their own.Â
But he hoped heâd get some time to celebrate at the reception.Â
XXXÂ
Roark was a married man now. He didnât feel much different. He didnât feel any older or wiser. What he did feel was extremely happy. Happier, he would dare say, than he had ever been before.Â
This was strange, he thought, as on the face of it, nothing about this situation was terribly unusual. He had attended many a ball with Kyoko at his side, and he had known she loved him, unbelievable as that was, for quite some time.Â
But he had never been married before, and though he wasnât a romantic, he was a traditionalist, and he knew the institution of marriage meant something. It meant a commitment to spend the rest of his life with the person he loved most. So yes, he was happy.Â
âI think that went rather well,â his wife whispered to him with a grin as they entered the ballroom.Â
âYou were perfect,â he said. âNo one should be able to have any complaints.âÂ
The wedding party broke up to mingle with the other guests who were entering in a steady stream of finely dressed people. The musicians were already warming up. By unspoken mutual agreement, Roark and Kyoko gravitated towards the far wall of the ballroom where they could have relative privacy.Â
âI have to admit, Iâm glad of that,â she said. âIt was wonderful but a bit nerve-wracking. It looked like half the Empire was invited.âÂ
He nodded his understanding. âYou get used to it. Still, Iâm most looking forward to being alone with you later.âÂ
Kyoko grinned impishly and turned her beautiful head to look at him. âOh? What do you think is going to happen then?âÂ
He colored slightly. âKyoko, you know that isnât what I meant.â
She laughed adorably. âI know, I know! All of these people isnât your scene. But do try to have fun. Itâs our wedding reception.âÂ
âI am,â he said, taking her hand and kissing it. âIâm quite happy.âÂ
âMm, yes, I can tell,â she said.Â
âCan you?â he asked. âI canât tell if youâre being sarcastic.âÂ
âIâm not, love,â she said, smiling. âI can tell. Youâre smiling. It suits you. You look more handsome than ever today.âÂ
âThank you,â he said with a bow of his head. âYouâre as kind as you are beautiful.âÂ
âAnd youâre as charming as you are handsome,â she said, grinning. âNow come dance with me!âÂ
âOf course,â he said, taking her hand. Its shape was familiar in his own: thin and soft with a few callouses on her fingers from working with machinery.Â
She led him out onto the dancefloor. She had an impeccable sense of timing; the musicians had just finished warming up, and, noticing the two of them, started to play a new song. It was slow and sweet and hopeful.Â
They fell into position easily, his hand on her back and hers on his shoulder. She smiled at him, as dazzling as a diamond, and he smiled back.Â
#beautiful forgotten things#prompt fill#kyoko hamilton#roark hamilton#do sterling and amos have tags#luxmyth
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mermaids, men, and gators
working title:Â LMAOOOO WHAT IS A CONSTANT TENSE I DONT KNOW HER
notes: i wrote this back in september 2018 when my theme was the green gators blog but i was a chicken about posting it till right this second. so. have this i guess.
dedication: @xxsirensong both this and the entire green gator theme started with you Linda, ily
When you come to visit us down here in swampland, donât go into the water. Don't go near it.
Stay with the people, on dry land, away from the Fishies.
That's what Old Uncle John will call them. Fishies. You'll know them by a different name, they're probably why you came down to visit if you're being perfectly honest with yourself. You came to see the Mermaids. Sirens. Fishies. They go by many names and if you follow the river down into the swamp you'll find them.
Gossamer and gorgeous, almost out of place in the dirty greens and grays of the swamp, but then again. You can only see half of them. Who knows what the delicate trail of teal green scales leads to other than the water.
Stay out of the water. You're too close already. A quick peak is all She'll allow. Better get out quick before one of your beauties signals for Her.
Old Uncle John has nothing good to say about Her.
"She's mean," he'll say, "She'd be prettier if she smiled but then you'd see the blood she's covered in!" the young ones donât like stories about Her, but once Old John gets going.....
"Evil, she's pure evil. Nasty ass bitch never shoulda-" he'll stop here and rub at his bad eye, mangled under the too big sunglasses he wears. Someone bought him an eye patch for Christmas one year. He doesnât use it.
If you probe for answers heâll only get nastier, accent thickening like good white gravy until even Aunt Myra canât understand anything other than the occasionally swear word. Sheâll tell you to get him drunk and then ask. You make the mistake of taking her advice when you stumble back into town, muddy from the waist down and blabbering about mermaids.
A fifth of whiskey and a question about how to get the mud out of you jeans is all it takes to him talking. Asking you if you went down to that âdamned swampâ and following up with âyou did dincha!â complete with a swat to the head. Aunt Myra smiles in sympathy from the kitchen but doesn't step in. âYou wanted this, remember?â her eyes seem to say. You do.
A few hedged questions about his own jeans and then Johnâs eyes unfocus, lost in the past.
It starts with a pretty girl, as most of Old Uncle Johnâs stories do.
A pretty girl, a reckless boy and the swamp.
He sees her when heâs messing around with his friends in the creek, just a flicker of dark hair and a gentle laugh. Hushed whispers and some jostling gets his buddies to shut up long enough for them all to notice her, chest deep in the mud, smiling like itâs the last day of school.
Theyâll ask if sheâs stuck. Sheâll move backwards in answers, the heavy mud parting like water for her. Itâs in her hair. Johnny doesn't care.
He chases her, running, tripping in his haste, and falling with a wet splat while she laughs at him, low and loud. Heâll walk home muddy everyday if she laughs like that again. With a wink she stands and mud clings to a heavy, bare, chest.
Someone whistles behind him and moves closer. She does the same, something a little too sharp to be curious but a little to open to be menacing. Her eyes are as brown as the mud around them.
When sheâs close enough Johnny goes cross eyed looking at her the world explodes with movement.
Someone's yelling, anotherâs got her by the arm, Johnâs got a handful of something heâs got no business touching according to his ma but his conscious quiets when they all collectively pull
Sheâs got a tail.
Itâs twice as big around as Johnny is, even with the bulk football gave him, and covered in mud, moss, and shimmering green scales so dark theyâre almost black.
Then she snarls, claws a good hunk of meat off of Johnâs face and rips whoeverâs got her arm, shoulder right out of its socket.
Theyâll find Johnny sobbing into the mud a while later, hands clapped to his face, blood running down his arms, no mermaid in sight.
When he comes back to himself, back to Old Uncle John and away from Young Little Johnny heâll rip that second fifth outta youâre fingers and down half it in one go.
Thatâs all you get out of him that night.
Aunt Myra doesn't look sad when you glance up at her, sheâs angry.
You wonder if this is the first time sheâs heard about how her husband got his scar
When you ask Freddy, whoâs across the street and weak in his shoulder, about it heâll spit between your shoes and say some impressively unprintable things.
âYou leave that gator and that witch alone boy you hear!â heâll jam a finger into your chest until you have a bruise and are nodding frantically.
You lied to him
The gator piece is new. Aunt Myra shakes her head and tells you Fred went mad a long time ago but the little kids giggle and tell you that the gator shoots a gun.
When you point out that gatorâs can't shoot guns Chrissy, the oldest of them all at the ripe old age of 6, will laugh and say âNeither can you!â before running off.
Sheâs got a point.
Also, mermaids are real. Why canât gun shooting gators be too?
Your best friend laughs when you tell him. âMermaids and gun slinging gators? The humidity is getting to you man! Better come home before your brain melts entirely!â
Youâll hang up on him, the asshole.
A picture you decide, milking a glass of orange juice Aunt Myra doesn't know you spiked, get a picture of the mermaids avoid whichever one fucked Uncle Johnâs face, and become famous for it.
You might have had a little too much of that orange juice.
Strapped into borrowed waders that are too big for you, phone in hand, youâll be hip deep in mud with a half a mind to quit when youâll see them.
Theyâre further in than last time, pushed up on a bank of semi dry sand, speaking in a language you don't realize. Youâve got an eye full of bare skin in long lean lines, that fades into delicate scales until their the size of your palm and colored the same as the marsh plants you fought through to get here.
Youâll barely unlock your phone when one of them sees you and flicks her tail up, sending mud flying. Itâll land dead in front of you, splattering up into your face, and slicking your phone.
By the time you get it out of your eyes, a scaled nose is peeking up from the water, dead in front of you.
Everyone knows, everyone is taught what those are. Gator.
Itâs been too long since youâve visited though, and the lessons are dull in your mind. Do you run? Stay put? Scream?
The decision will be taken from you when She arrives.
You know immediately itâs Her. the one who fucked Old Uncle Johnâs face.
Hand prints brand her bare chest, a shade of sickly green almost the exact size of your own hand on her breast, youâre only a little older than Uncle John was, you realize with a start.
Another is branded around her upper arm, the same shade of green that makes every buried instinct in you scream of sickness and pain and you have the overwhelming urge to vomit.
Sheâll stop you, the murky water and mud parting easily for her, and sheâll grip your jaw in one hand, looming over you.
The gator moves to the side, but youâll feel itâs breath on the side of your exposed neck, the only think you can focus on whole She yells at you in a language you have no hope of ever understanding.
When Sheâs done, brown eyes narrowed in rage, youâll notice the gator skin on her shoulders. Stitched into her flesh, with heavy thread, an armor leading down her back. To where you can't see, head still pulled into an unnatural angle, her grip on your jaw ever tightening with your staring.
Finally Sheâll let you go, but Her gator stays, breathing on you with itâs too big nostrils, looking almost gleeful when you spare a glance to check its location. Chrissy will be disappointed you didn't see its gun.
If you survive this that is.
When She drops you, and She will, for not even the merfolk can yell forever, youâll flounder for balance, Her steady weight gone, no longer holding you up. You hadn't realized youâd slumped into her grip.
Sheâll catch you, steady you, but itâs with the prong of a pitchfork. The metal is cold against your back and sheâs sneering, lips pulled back to reveal pointed teeth and a algae green tongue that darts out to taste the air.
You are in no position to wonder about snake mermaids in the swamps, because sheâs got her pitchfork in your face, one tip indenting the flesh of your cheek. The same spot Uncle John has his scar.
Sheâll see the fear flash in your face because her next move is a jerk of the tines, making a shallow cut on your face. It burns the way cuts do when you get dirt in them and your eye will water from the sting of it.
âNever. Again.â Sheâll say in careful English, then again in Spanish because you actually paid attention in that class and again in another language, changing each time but the same two words.
She punctuates each languages change with a jab to your chest, ripping your borrowed waders and your shirt until you're back into the river proper, gator still swimming idly beside you.
When she pulls back something ripples behind her, heavy and green.
âGator,â you breath and glance down at your unwanted buddy. No scales are missing from his hide but that is unmistakable gatorskin that flows from her shoulders. The stitchingâŚâŚ
She wields a pitchfork, stands tall on her tail, wears a cape of alligator hide and protects the way she was never protected. Hand prints mar her skin, sickly against smooth flesh and she doesn't cover them, her cape is her only kind of clothing and youâre still not sure if her gator companion wields a gun or not.
You know when youâre not wanted enough to leave before you find out
Aunt Myra scolds you for leaving like that and ripping a good pair of waders but won't hear anything about mermaids or alligators.
Your best friend thinks itâs the funniest shit when you call him, crowing about humidity and going crazy. You don't hang up, but you touch the cut on your cheek, and the scraps on your chest. Youâre not crazy.
You leave shortly after that, mad that youâre phone is ruined no good pictures at all, a wasted trip. Your mad about Her roughing you up, mad about that damn gator who shoots better than you do.
Old Uncle John has a drink with you before your drive back home, and both of you are muttering about âdamn Fishiesâ before the bottle is even halfway gone.
.
.
.
Across the swamp, across the sea, She sighs and stitches another scale into her cape. Humans will never learn to leave well enough alone. They will never understand Her pain.
The butt of her pitchfork slams against the riverbed rhythmically, calling.
As the water around Her ripples she sets aside her needle and rises, watching Her Sisters rally to her cry
Since they do not learn, they will drown.
And the Waters will be all the better for it
#my writing#gatorade made#(yikes thats an old tag)#mermaids#i uhhh#it's like half a hair rapey but im a weenie so just vauged about it#i have no idea what to tag this but#ok#here yall go#ily linda
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PROFILE LOADED... ăKIM TAEHYUNGăăUNAFFILIATEDăăTWENTYă
âTwenty-year-old LAW INTERN and IT TECHNICIAN that goes by the alias âPROPHETâ. No known allies.â
â THREAT LEVEL LOW. NO PRECAUTIONS NECESSARY...
WARNING: PARENT DEATH
[ BACKGROUND... ]
His life starts out cookie-cutter, simple, pleasantly average. His father works as an accountant for a local bank, his mother as a primary school teacher. She likes her tea with lemon and honey and he likes his coffee with cream. He likes to watch golf on weekend mornings and she tunes into foreign romantic comedies on weekend evenings, with room for Taehyungâs cartoons on Saturday mornings. She always puts a little too much detergent in the dishwasher and he always forgets which button on the remote changes the channel. Taehyung covers the floor in Lego masterpieces, digs through a box of their old outdated electronics so he can take them apart, count their pieces, observe their parts, then put them back together again. A few of his teachers throw around the word âgiftedâ and his parents begin saving pennies for the costly middle school he will undoubtedly test into with flying colors. Taehyung is perfectly happy playing on old clunky computers and building Lego starships and watching superheroes fight bad guys on TV.
He is nine when they take him out to see the newest Batman film, after he insists that heâs big enough to read all the subtitles now and after his parents promise to help him when they go just a little too fast. He dons his black cape and his light up sneakers and they drive off to a movie theater by the river, because his parents like to hold hands and walk along the water, like they did when they were young sweethearts. They do just that on their way back to the car, as Taehyung runs a few meters ahead, acting out the explosions and the car chases still fresh in his mind from the film he insists wonât give him nightmares even if it is way past his bedtime.
âTaehyung-ah,â his mother calls fondly, âdonât run too far ahead.â
âEomma, Iâm Batman!â
His parents share a chuckle, his mother resting her weight against his fatherâs arm as they walk.
âEomma look, I-ahââ
He freezes in his tracks, spotting a group of shadows in the distance. Some are faintly lit with the orange glow of cigarettes, the others moving in jerking motions similar to the ones he saw in the movie only minutes ago.
âWhatâs that-â
His parents catch up, his mother drawing him close, the atmosphere suddenly tense. Something large and lifeless slides into the water.
âIs that-â
âWe should call someone-â
âIâll call the police, letâs go back to the ca-â
âDrop it.â
A gruff, unfamiliar voice sounds from behind the terrified family. Taehyung turns when his mother does, feeling his fatherâs hand close on top of hers over his shoulder. On any other day, heâd look like a perfectly normal man, average height, stiff black hair, a smattering of pock marks across his cheeks, a thin beard at the tip of his chin and a faint scar across his right temple. Heâd look perfectly normal, save for the barrel of a gun he had pointed at the family.
âDrop the phone.â
âPlease. Weâll give you whatever you want.â Taehyungâs never heard his father sound afraid before, which is the only thought heâs able to have as he lets the device skitter across the pavement, âJust donât hurt our boy.â
âAppa-â
âHush, Taehyung,â his mother mutters, her voice wet with frightened tears. The man moves the gun toward Taehyung and Taehyung feels his motherâs arm drape across his chest, tugging him as close to her as humanly possible.
âPlease-â
He hesitates for a long moment, before another frame approaches, tossing the glow of a cigarette into a nearby patch of weeds growing out of a crack in the ground.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â
âI-â
âTheyâve seen too much. Kill them.â
âWhat?â
âPlease-â
âEomma-â
âShut up!â
Taehyung shuts his mouth audibly, feeling the light scratch of his motherâs wedding ring against the palm of his hand as he squeezes her fingers.
âTheyâve seen your face. And now theyâve seen mine. What, do you think they wouldnât pinpoint you in a lineup?â
âPlease, we wonât tell anyone, we-â
âDo it or I will. And do it now. Our windowâs closing. We gotta dip.â
Time seems to slow down in that moment, as the second man disappears back down the slope toward the river. Taehyung chances a frightened glance up at his father in the same second that the man pulls the trigger. His father falls. His motherâs scream sounds distant, like heâs hearing it through water, but itâs cut short by another shot, which sends her body to the ground next to her husbandâs. Her hand slides out of Taehyung, lands next to his foot, taps his shoe, which starts to light up in a dissident brilliance of red and blue. He looks up at the man, meets the eye of the barrel with his own. His lip trembles. The manâs hand shakes. Another shot sounds. Something tugs on Taehyungâs ear, something warm and wet trickles down the back of his neck. He falls, dizzy and afraid, the bodies of his parents still warm when they break his fall. Black inches into his vision and takes it over completely until itâs cleared away by the sound of sirens, of car doors slamming, of voices swarming.
âWe have a pulse on the boy!â
âAppa-â he sobs weakly as hands carefully pry him away from his parents.
âItâs okay, youâre okayâŚâ
âEomma-â
Careful hands shine a light in his eyes, carry him onto a stretcher, slot him easily into the back of an ambulance, his shoes lighting up with every jostle. He canât see through dazed tears when they zip his parents into black bags. Theyâve got a mask over his face. Someoneâs holding his hand, petting his hair, but itâs not his mother.
They tell him heâs lucky to be alive. The bullet clipped his ear, grazed his head, but will do not permanent physical damage save for the missing notch in his ear and the faint scar thatâll eventually be covered by his hair. He tells the police officers everything he can remember, about the manâs scar, his beard, the shadows at the lake. And yet, somehow, by the end of it, the authorities conclude the case by titling it a botched robbery, in spite of the fact that nothing was stolen, not even the scratched phone Taehyungâs father had slid across the pavement. Taehyung is a boy, a young child too trusting of authority to question the verdict, lets his psychologist convince him that it was, in fact, a robbery in spite of some of his conflicting memories that grow foggier every day. Enough rereads of Batmanâs stories convince him that perhaps it had been a robbery after all.
He moves in with his fraternal grandparents, the life insurance money placed in an account that his family vows to maintain for his education. Some of it goes toward funding his attendance at good private schools in the area, some of it toward the medical bills his family canât afford, but most of it stays tucked away for when he is old enough to know what he wants to do with it. His life stays relatively quiet after that, most of his free time spent after school in robotics clubs or at home mastering coding, encrypting, hacking, skills far more advanced than most young people his age. The social aspects of school are as easy to him as they are for any teenager with an exceptional affinity for numbers, computers, and superheroes (see: not very), but he makes a handful of good friends where he can.
His grandmother passes away shortly before his high school graduation, and his grandfather is moved into a nursing home, where he can receive round-the-clock care. His fatherâs sister and her husband offer him a place to stay, but he knows they have two young children of their own and refuses to be a burden on his family any longer. With their help, he moves into his own studio apartment just outside of Hongdae, drops a job as a delivery boy for a local hamburger restaurant after three months and wanders around university campuses on his bike instead, offering college students computer repairs for a fee less than their school charges for the same work.
His family suggests he consider university himself, but he assures them he will when heâs ready, though heâs started to think he might not need it at all. But the idea has started to sound more appealing now that heâs started at his new job, one he stumbled upon by accident, after helping a law student retrieve her hard drive after a particularly nasty meltdown. Now he works as an intern himself, acting as the resident IT tech for a local criminal defense law office, though he does more than just clear the office computers of malware and viruses; sometimes a good hack and that one missed tidbit of information is all the lawyers need to win a case.
It may not be as cookie-cutter as his parents might have imagined his future to be, but he likes to think that, if they are looking down on him, they are at least proud of how quickly heâs adapted to taking care of himself.
[ BEHAVIOR... ]
You could see he would never hurt a fly, but the real truth is that he has most likely never looked away from a computer screen long enough to even consider it. If people had paid attention to him in high school, he may have made it onto a yearbook superlatives page for being the âQuirkiestâ, the âClass Clownâ, or the âMost Likely to Discover a New Planetâ. But truthfully, even then, he spent his time with his nose buried in codes and robotics, went virtually unnoticed until he walked the stage for his own graduation and a majority of his class realized theyâd never seen this boy in their lives.
His charm is understated, all bright smiles and constant chatter, often about things no one else understands (or, more likely, cares about). He is kind and gracious, will fix a computer or a smartphone for free if someone canât afford to pay. He is often too friendly too quickly, in a way that may be off-putting for some, and the underlying fear of being alone he harbors translates into his latching on to others before they might be ready for it. And though his IQ is high, his memorization of numbers and facts almost photographic, his social intelligence is less fortified and his attention span is something to be desired, which one can expect from someone who has probably spent more time talking to computers than he has to actual people. He is not entirely naive, as is often expected of him, nor is he particularly imperceptive; he is aware of the negative in the world, though he prefers not to acknowledge it, as if that will somehow sap away its strength and negate its existence.
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Smokey brand Retro Reviews: Wanna Know How I Got These Scars?
With the advent of Black Panther upon us, and all of the borderline ridiculous hype accompanying it, i wanted to take this time and look back on a film franchise that i absolutely adored. A franchise that had a massive amount of hype, particularly the second, and delivered. Itâs one of my all-time favorite film series right up there with Star Wars and Potter. The franchise iâm talking about is Nolanâs Dark Knight Trilogy.
The Legendary
Heath Ledger. Holy sh*t. I was one of the people who kind of cringed when Ledger was announced as the Joker. When the first production stills of him in full character came out, my apprehension was not sated. And then i saw that IMAX special. That bank heist scene. âWhatever doesnât kill you simple makes you...stranger.â I was sold, one hundred percent. The illest thing? Thatâs him at a one. Ledger slowly, methodically, and expertly, dialed up that performance to a goddamn eleven! He took home Oscar gold posthumously and deserved every single bit of that sh*t. To this day, Ledgerâs portrayal of a grease paint faced, sociopath, is one of the best example of character acting i have ever had the pleasure to witness.
The Best
Christopher Nolanâs direction is at itâs finest during this trilogy. You can see it in his attention to detail. Thereâs a scene in TDK where a truck gets flipped. Like, he did that. Nolan DID that. He PRACTICED that! Thatâs f*cking insane! HE knew he needed that scene and he went out and made sure it worked, perfectly! That kind of passion for your craft is rare ad it makes for whatever said person is working on, that much better. And thatâs not getting into the use of color or the functionality of all the Bat tech or the very real commentary each of the films takes to heart. Itâs insane how much information Nolan packs in the visual medium and The Dark Knight trilogy is a masterwork of doing just that.
The goddamn scripts were f*cking brilliant. That plot, both individually and overarching, were spectacular. The Dark Knight is one of the greatest crime thrillers i have ever seen but that overarching character plot of Batman becoming Bruce Wayne was just as satisfying. The matter-of-fact way Brice become batman. The almost reactionary creation of The Joker. The way The Dark Knight Rises closes out that arc. Literally these three scripts, this overall narrative, was goddamn outstanding. Near Godfather levels of brilliance. The Nolan brothers and David Goyer wrote an expressive, expansive, hero tale that brilliantly redefines and deconstructs what it means to be heroic. Â
Tom Hardy is an expert in his craft. Heâs the only reason iâm going to go see that train wreck Venom film. I somehow hope he can elevate that Sony schlock the way he elevated what he was given for Bane. That voice? Him. Them gains? Him. That cold, methodical, energy? All. Him. Hardy acted more with just his eyes than most actors can with their entire bodies and an award wining script. While i think heâs a step below Ledgerâs Joker, heâs still right up there as one of the best villains ever to be captured on film. Iâm talking Lecter levels of sinister.
Lost in the shuffle, mostly because he had to share a screen with what turned out to be the best performance of that decade, was Aaron Eckhartâs Harvey Two-Face. Actually, performance aside, can we just appreciate HOW Harvey became Two-Face? the way Nolan decided to frame that origin? Itâs goddamn outstanding! Â I feel like that character deserves itâs own mention but without Eckhart, weâd juts have some ridiculously realistic CG on the face of a less capable stand in. Aaron Eckhart was just as pivotal to this film as Bale or Caine or Ledger and cats need to give credit where itâs due.
These movies are f*cking beautiful. The cinematography is just exceptional. There area few scenes that spring to mind immediately; The sweeping scopes surrounding the League of Shadows Himalayan headquarters, the scene where the Joker declares everything burns, or that initial introduction of Bane crashing that plane - there are scenes and specific frames in these films that deserve to be hung in museums. Theyâre pure art. Wally Pfiser is a goddamn sage in his craft and deserves all of the praise.
The scores for these films feed into every other bit of pure inspiration and essentially accentuate every scene with that much more magic. That long string that escalates into an abrupt percussion which defined who the Joker was. That chant of rise when Bruce was trying to climb out of that pit in Rises was perfect. Batmanâs new theme, with all of itâs curt percussion, fueled the controlled rage that Bale portrayed for his character. Look, i canât gush enough about these films but these scores are classic in their own right. As they should be. This is Hans Zimmer weâre talking about. All he does is makes hits!
The Better
I touched upon this earlier in the review with the reference to the truck flip but, goddamn, the effects in these films are brilliant. Nola did everything he could piratically which lends itself to the realism he wanted to ground his Batman story with and it f*cking works. From masterfully shot and executed action set pieces like the truck flip in TDK or the plane crash at the beginning of TDKR, sh*t was done in real time, with real consequences. If they f*cked up that shot, it wasnât happening again. But Nolan pulled them off and they were the definition of grandiose and spectacle. Goddamn, were they a feat for the eyes! I was dumbstruck with the truck flip but straight gobsmacked by the plane crash. that sh*t was wild! And thatâs not even getting into the intricacies of Two-Face. That sh*t should have one an Oscar for effect because, holy sh*t!
The editing of these films was deftly handled. With the exception of a few slow starts in Rises, the pacing and film structure overall complimented the story Nolan was trying to tell. Lee Smith knows how to cut a Nolan film and, i think, his work on The Dark Knight film was some of his best. It must have been difficult trying to craft a coherent film, trying to cut out scenes that were crafted by a master, performed by a genius, and framed by a sage. He pulled it off though. These films are a breeze to watch. It doensât seem like youâve been watching damn near 9 hours worth of cinema if yo take them in back-to-back.
Christian Bale was a pretty good Batman. I thought he was better as Wayne than Bats but he gave a goddamn outstanding performance, overall. I think he was constantly outshined by his supporting cast, particularly Caine, Ledger, and Hardy, but overall, he was probably the third or fourth best thing about these films.
Speaking of Michael Caine, he is always excellent in whatever he decides to be in but Caine IS the definitive Alfred Pennyworth now. That bar is crazy high because he did exactly what he always does; steal scenes and shame lesser actors. The chemistry he had with Bale was sickeningly sweet. You could feel how much his Alfred cared for Baleâs Wayne. It was just goddamn adorable.
Including Lucious Fox was an interesting choice but it paid off beautifully, especially after the pat went to God himself, Morgan Freeman. Similarly to Michael Caine, this man can turn in no terrible performances. Heâs just that goddamn good!
Just a quick note, i wanted to mention Joseph Gordon Levitt, Anne Hathaway, Cillian Murphy, Marion Cotillard, and Liam Neeson. For whatever reason, i kind of feel like we didnât get to see enough of their characters for them to make as rich as an impression of other cats in these films but, at the same time, I canât imagine them without their contributions. Particularly Murphyâs Crane. His Scarecrow kind of became the mascot for the entire franchise and i find that to be just delicious. Hathawayâs Catwoman is kind of an enigma for me. I get why sheâs there but itâs hard to think that there were others that better fit that role. That, and the fact that Michelle Pfeiffer will always be MY Catwoman. Meow!
The overall casting was spectacular. I made a note to reference individual performances that were standout but literally all of the major players did a spectacular job in this film series. Even the supporting characters elevated their game considerably and consistently to match the energy Nolan brought to this franchise. With the exception of one character but she was kind of fixed right before she was killed off, as noted below.
The Good
The character of Rachel Dawes is quite literally the weakest aspect of these films. I hated her in Begins but i thought she was redeemed in TDK. Maggie Gyllenhaal was just delightful. Until she wasnât. And by wasnât, i mean murdered. I feel like Katie Holmes was wildly miscast for this flick.
The Verdict
I love The Dark Knight trilogy. Love. Itâs f*cking brilliant. This review started out as a singular Dark Knight retrospective but, as i dug into films, i realized, it has to be one overarching expose. It had to be. You canât talk about one film without referencing another. They are all that excellent. Christopher Nolan changed the superhero game with The Dark Knight and forced an industry to look at what was once considered goofy children fair, as legitimate cinematic gold. Oscar Gold. Without TDK, we would ever have gotten the emotionally crippling Logan or the political satire of Winter Soldier or the visceral reality of Split or that darkly humorous take Ryan Reynolds brought with Deadpool. The Dark Knight trilogy made all of those happen and it deserves itâs place at the very top of cape flicks. It deserves itâs place at the very top of cinema. Watch these films, man. You wonât be disappointed!
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