#melodramatic scene

[artemlegere]

The Damsel and Orlando

Artist: Benjamin West (American, 1738–1820)

Date: c. 1793

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, NY, United States

Description

The Italian poet Ludovico Ariosto’s epic "Orlando furioso" (1516) enjoyed revived popularity in the eighteenth century. In this melodramatic scene, the costumes, the physical types, and, especially, the poses are reminiscent of the style of the Italian High Renaissance, which West greatly admired. The hero, Orlando, is shown as he learns that he has lost his place in the affections of Angelica, who now loves someone else and has dispensed with a jeweled bracelet Orlando had given her. The painter concentrated all the work’s tension in the theatrical pose of Orlando, who, in the wildness of his grief, loses his mind.

[wishfulsketching]

So. All this to tell the idea "shimmer is used as a medicine that helps patients in critical condition to survive their surgeries". It's very regulated and Silco's ass is in the line if anyone abuses shimmer.

I also wanted to tie some scenes/lines etc from season 1 to the Alternative Universe. And make Silco a bit more, well, Silco but with the AU vibe. I am also not letting Singed go, he is gonna be helping Silco and getting something in return. Maybe the kids are gonna try to build Orianna her body. Also, whatever the universe, Singed will burn his face. No timeline will save him. He is just like that.

Vander almost lost half his family in one day.

This is like a regular fanfic. Just with pictures. Nothing deeper than that.

Happy one week of zaundads insanity!

[divineatrophy]

dots ch7 is finally getting thereee

[lucy-moderatz]

[poisonedspider]

(Possibly) Hot Take: I know people say Poison takes place in real time, and to a degree, I think the answer is yes. I think that the final chorus that seems like a music video is actually taking place, and obviously so is the balcony scene. I think everything else is flashbacks (after the initial opening).

What makes me say this? I genuinely think Angel is happy with Valentino in the first verse and chorus. He's reflecting on how happy he was, and how he fell for it too easily. He's literally singing about how he is enjoying the poison in the first chorus (which we know obviously changes). He liked the popularity, the drugs, the money, the sex. It's all positive flashbacks.

I say this too because these are some of the moments we see Angel genuinely the happiest we see him. That absolute joy when he jumps into Valentino's arms? Incredible. He does look genuinely happy in his dance with him (until he shows his fear). I think the jumping into his arms scene was prior to the contract, because he had the CHOICE to run and be with Val, rather than the dance scene which is forced.

But also, let's talk about the ValAngel sex scene. The only 'distress' we see him in is when Valentino bites him, and even then I would definitely say that's more of a pleasure cry. I know Angel is an actor, but like....I say this because I was staring at my icon and...

This doesn't look like the face of someone unhappy. Scared. Miserable. He loves Val. I think this is when he was willingly giving himself to Val, because then it quickly changes to a VERY abusive and scary BDSM scene. It's showing the stark contrast between what he thought he was getting into, and what it all ended up resulting in. Addicted to this feeling (not the money, fame, drugs...but LOVE because we all know POISON is about VALENFUCKINGTINO) became I'm choking from the taste. Because there is still love there, and he HATES himself for it. It's difficult to resist another gulp. It's difficult not to go back, because there was love there at one point (or so he thinks). This is the most domestic violence line in the damn song - it's difficult to resist going back to one's abuser when there was love before.

Also why before the first chorus it's "I can only blame myself." He willingly gave himself to Valentino. He sold his soul, willingly (granted under dubious consent but). I just think that at least the ValAngel scenes from the beginning of the song are truly happy ValAngel times that he's reflecting on and he's like...this is the Poison I fell for...this is my fault...I didn't predict how bad it would get and I keep coming back again and again and again and it isn't until he has the hotel, has genuine friends, has HUSK who could become a genuine healthy love, that his balcony scene hits of he's sick of it, he KNOWS he could do better, he wishes he had a way out because now he knows there is a true possibility of a better life than this suffering.

[pearlcaddy]

LOCKWOOD & CO. 1.08

[neviayue]

i say cheers... | By Nevi Ayu E.

"Here's looking at you kid." 카사블랑카에 나온 데산데, 아 우리 나라에선 참 멎지게 번역했지. 당신의 눈에 뭐가 보이든, 나는 당신의 눈동자에 건배.

Dialogue from Korean drama Be Melodramatic 멜로가 채질 (2019), episode 16, written by Lee Byeonghun, Kim Youngyoung.

[maniacalmole]

               When Aziraphale finally came back, Crowley didn’t really much care what he was saying, or mumbling, or choking out, but instead was watching him like a hawk for signs of what he really meant, like he always had, and it was so familiar an action that he almost didn’t even care what he found, he was just so blessed glad to be able to do it again, only what he did find was that Aziraphale was sagging under a despair and a relief so profound that eventually Crowley was satisfied enough to say, “I’m tired. Need a good night’s rest. Let’s pick this back up in the morning.”

               And Aziraphale had looked both petrified and grateful, so Crowley had leaned back on the bookshop sofa and gone to sleep. Which wasn’t really a surprise, given that he hadn’t exactly been sleeping well lately, but what had surprised him was that in the morning he’d seen Aziraphale had fallen asleep, too, something he’d hardly seen in their millennia of knowing each other. So he supposed they’d both needed it.

               Which was why, when they both woke up around noon, Crowley did something the bookshop had never seen in its decades of existence, because normally they had so many places they wanted to go together, but now all they really wanted to do was stay there, and so he ordered takeaway.

               And so there they were, Crowley sat on the sofa and Aziraphale in an armchair, Chinese takeaway boxes scattered on a hastily cleared-of-books end table, with Crowley shoveling noodles into his mouth because he hadn’t realized he’d been so hungry. And Aziraphale was holding one dumpling between a pair of chopsticks, looking like a statue.

               “So—” Crowley said, with difficulty around the noodles���how had the angel always managed to talk and eat at the same time, all while looking so prim?—and he’d never gotten the hang of chopsticks. Which, all right, he’d lived in China for a few centuries over the ages, but he’d eaten far less often than humans did, so it still wasn’t all that shameful. “So, what’s next, then?”

               “Rather a lot, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale glanced at him when he said it, did that little twitch of an eyebrow he couldn’t help doing sometimes, even when he was squashing everything down inside him, like now, then looked away.

               Crowley shoveled more noodles into his mouth. Aziraphale took the history of the world’s smallest bite of his dumpling. Crowley frowned.

               “And—er—”

               “I wish I could’ve come back to you with it all being finished,” Aziraphale said sadly. “‘Done, I solved it’. Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t all that useful.”

               “From what you told me last night, you did loads.” Crowley stared at the dumpling. “Aren’t you hungry?”

               “Oh.” Aziraphale grimaced at his chopsticks. “Er. Haven’t really eaten much. I don’t want—uh—don’t want to upset my stomach. You know how it is.”

               Crowley just frowned. He took another gargantuan bite. Too big, really. It was all he could do to chew.

               “The last thing I wanted to do was to come back to you with more problems,” Aziraphale said wretchedly. “But they just kept getting larger and larger, and eventually it was now or never—and I’m just—I’m just so useless—”

               Crowley chewed faster. He really shouldn’t have eaten so much at once. He could do the snake thing, he supposed, but he really didn’t think a big old reminder of how inhuman he was would be quite appropriate, right now. Still, he had things to say, or rather, to interrupt, so he swallowed painfully, made a horrible noise, and finally hissed, “Never mind that, just, let’s just, get through this day, all right? Just one day.”

               Aziraphale’s eyes went distant. Crowley wondered if they even measured days, in Heaven. They certainly tried not to think about it in Hell. Aziraphale was still holding that blessed dumpling, hardly touched, with perfect chopstick finesse, and he wished it would fall, just so the angel would have to catch it with his teeth.

               “What are you doing?”

               “What?” Aziraphale snapped halfway out of his daze.

               “What are you—why are you eating like that? Why aren’t you eating?”

               “I told you—” the angel said, sounding just peevish enough to spur him on.

               Crowley reached over and took the chopsticks from him. Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley gestured with the dumpling. “Why are you being so weird about it?”

               “I’m not—”

               “It’s eating. It’s food, look, here it comes—”

               “Crowley, are you airplaning that dumpling at me?”

               Crowley paused mid-airplaning the dumpling towards him. He said, “N-n—”

               Aziraphale gave him an icy stare.

               “‘Member before it was airplanes?” Crowley said. He smiled. He felt something bubbling up inside him, and Aziraphale, remembering himself and trying to look penitent again, was not going to stop it. “It was trains, for a while, right? ‘Here comes the train, carrying your food.’ Don’t think they ever did that with a horse and buggy, though. S’pose you’d imply the kid was eating the horse, which wasn’t really the thing.”

               “Crowley.”

               “Before they had food-carrying vehicles, how did they get kids to eat, then? Do you remember?”

               “Not really.” Aziraphale looked a bit wretched again. Crowley handed him back his chopsticks, and the angel took them. Took a bite. So small, it could hardly even be called a nibble.

               Crowley sighed and leaned back into his own seat. “Anyway, I guess none of it really makes sense. You’d have to eat the whole airplane, too.”

               They sat in silence for a while. Crowley took another bite of lo mein. Because of the chopsticks, and his fear, after everything, of what would happen if he dropped food on the bookshop floor, he’d held the whole carton up to his mouth and dumped it in, and now he really was choking, and after a few moments of terrified silence, he gave up and did the snake thing. Dislocating a human-shaped jaw really was less dramatic than when the entirety of you was just a long tube, but he knew it still looked odd. It wasn’t the reason he hardly ever ate in restaurants, but it was a small part of it. When he was done, he clenched his teeth back together and winced in the angel’s direction.

               Aziraphale was looking at him with a wistful expression that was part amused and part something else. He said, “I missed you.”

               Well. If everything before hadn’t been enough, that certainly was. Crowley said, “Do you at least want to try drinking something? Some cocoa?” and his own voice startled him with its softness.

               Aziraphale looked thoughtful. Then doubtful. “I—don’t know.”

               “C’mon. I’ll make you some. You’ve got to wake up the stomach with something, right?”

               “I suppose—”

               “I’ll make you some.” He rose from the sofa with the grace of a marionette being picked up by the strings, which was ironic, since he had never felt less like a puppet. “Be in the kitchenette. Right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

               And he left, because he knew he wouldn’t.

               When he came back, steaming warm mug in his hands, Aziraphale had put the dumpling away, but the doubt in his eyes had changed to something near hope. He took the cocoa and stared into it while Crowley sat back down. Not all the way, not leaning back into the sofa, but elbows resting on his knees, leaning forward towards the angel. Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley tilted his head at the mug and raised his eyebrows, just a little. Aziraphale smiled, closed his eyes and, after taking a deep breath, took a sip. Then he winced.

               “Too hot?” Crowley said, brows pulling together.

               “I should have waited—”

               “Here.” Crowley reached for the mug and touched it with his index finger. Then, needing something to calibrate the temperature to, he put his other hand on top of Aziraphale’s. He performed a minor miracle.

               He let go, leaned back, and Aziraphale looked at him. He took another sip. The angel closed his eyes and, slowly, drank the whole thing.

               When he put the mug down, it was empty.

               “Mm?” Crowley said lightly.

               “Thank—” Aziraphale started to say, but he shifted, his face a pained grimace. He put a hand to his stomach, waving Crowley off with his other hand when the demon had made a noise of worry. The angel sighed and his face relaxed.

               “Did it upset your stomach?” Crowley asked. Again, that soft voice. Croaky with misuse.

               “A little.” Aziraphale looked up at him. He gave a watery smile. “It was wonderful.”

               Crowley felt his own face doing something. It was something like a grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

               Aziraphale looked at the remains of the Chinese takeaway. There were still several unopened boxes. With the memory of the angel passed out in his chair, eyes closed, chest moving slowly, Crowley had gone a bit overboard with the ordering. He hadn’t even known the bookshop’s address. Just told the delivery person the street name, and said, ‘Bookshop with a big black car in front of it. You can’t miss it.’ And he hadn’t. It was an iconic duo.

               “We could—” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “We could save those for later, yes?”

               Crowley beamed at him. “Yeah. Angel?”

               “Hm?”

               “Welcome back.”

[trans-peridot]

FFxivWrite Day 3: Tempest

So the funny thing with this one is, it was perfect for Tayfun. Where do you think she got her name? But I already wrote that scene and I'm not about to cheat, so here instead is her telling the story to Saffron, her t4t girlfriend, about two years before the events of ARR.

“Where were you, Saffron? When the Calamity hit?”

“I was... I was taking shelter here in Ul’dah. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Tayfun and Saffron were cuddled up to each other in Tayfun’s room in the Quicksand. Saffron had just asked Tayfun how she chose her name, and her response seemed like an utter non sequitur.

“I picked my name the same night I realized that I was a girl. The night I thought I was going to die. The night of the Calamity. In the Black Shroud the approach of Dalamud was manifesting as this horrible tempest sweeping across the Twelveswood.” Tayfun nuzzled as close to her girlfriend as she could. “I was out on my own when it hit. Trees were uprooting and everything was swept up in the typhoon. Myself included. I was tossed about like a sack of popotoes that didn’t even realize it hated being a boy.”

“And so you realized that before dying you should admit a certain something to yourself?”

“I mean... in a certain sense, yes. But thinking back on it now it almost feels like...” Tayfun choked on her words. She’d never admitted this part before, even to herself. “I did die that night. Or the boy who I was died, and I was allowed to take his place. I’m not even sure that’s a metaphor. With the way the realm has been reborn since the Calamity, I wonder if a part of that rebirth settled into me. Of course it couldn’t have returned me from death, but I wonder if it prevented me from dying from wounds that would have killed me otherwise. By all rights I should have died that night, and now every moment since is something extra. Any moment of joy, any deed I accomplish, any connection I make, it’s... I’m a ghost girl.”

“I think you’re alive. I don’t want to imagine a world where I didn’t get to meet you, which I believe means you were supposed to survive all along. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” Tayfun lied. “Well, anyway, that’s how I chose my name. When the tempest spared my life I named myself Tayfun in its honor. Sort of silly saying it out loud, but I like the name.”

“You realize you’re talking to a girl who named herself after the first flower she saw after running away from home, don’t you?” Saffron laughed and kissed Tayfun’s neck.

“I like your name. My desert crocus.”

And then, realistically, they probably fucked nasty before bed. But we don’t want to see that right now, do we?

[angstics]

i discovered the movie Wings (1927) was based on a book. the movie is famous for several reasons (first best picture winner, crazy aerial shots, crazy regular shots, crazy ww1 epic, clara bow, gary cooper bit part) AND! it's famous for having a same sex kiss between two men. which i would venture to say was pretty normal in the 20s since films depicted it as a normal platonic thing to do until sometime in the 30s/40s, i cant pick out when it phased out (breen? squashed european sensibility?). so anyway i was looking into this to see if it was ever commented on at the time, since modern queer theorists harp on it a lot, and i ran into the book.

and the book seems to have the same story, but SPOILER! our main character doesnt get to see his best friend before he dies from his friendly fire. the scene is nicely written but i was sad that the melodramatic death scene (including the kiss) from the film wasnt novelized. til i saw this. oh brother

the retroactive queering of achilles and patrocles has done a lot for the queering of male friendship, from grantaire and enjolras to these fighter pilots

[catacomas]

also brandon rogers voicing the main guy is still just fucking insane to me

[caterpillarinacave]

So I haven’t written anything in a month

[wakeupthemembersofbylernation]

It’s wild how so many people are fundamentally incapable of recognizing queer characters unless they explicitly say the words, “I’m gay” on screen

[manitat]

Tom Waits' Melodramatic Nocturnal Scene by Travis Braun...

[robotnuts]

thinking about washchurch. need to talk to someone more intelligent with me about washchurch. 

[punmster]

first 7k chapter?!?!