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the-crooked-library · 2 months ago

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Nuance, Narratives, and Nosferatu

As of today, Robert Eggers' Nosferatu (2024) has only been in theatres for 4 full days; and, coincidentally, that is about as long as I am able to let my thoughts marinate before they demand to be communicated. Before going into any further detail, let it be known that this film was made by freaks for freaks; it exists for the goths, the gays, the monsterfuckers, the historians, and for all those who delight in moral and thematic complexity.

With that being said - spoilers under the cut!

There are two principal narratives running through the flesh of Nosferatu, both of them rooted heavily in the cultural and literary origins of the story. It is a nightmare; it is also an erotic fantasy. It is horrifying, and it is also achingly romantic. From what I've seen so far, the vast majority of discourse that has already emerged around the film is caused by people misunderstanding or deliberately ignoring the relationship between these different lines of analysis; so please trust me when I say, from the bottom of my heart, that this duality is the very lifeblood of the movie.

The reason for that is, quite simply, that Nosferatu is a gothic horror film, set in 1830s German Confederation; and its plot relies on the same (sometimes contradictory) complexities often displayed in Victorian gothic fiction.

From the beginning of the movie, we are given to understand that Ellen Hutter met Count Orlok - the eponymous nosferatu - psychically, when she was very young. They spoke, she pledged herself to him, and was horrified to realize what she had done when he revealed his true visage to her in their first visual (and sexual) encounter.

Here, under the lilacs, the paths diverge.

The first reading of the film is perhaps the more straightforward. A young girl is essentially catfished and groomed by a much older, dangerous man. When they meet for the first time, she is a teenager; the lilacs that bloom where it happens become a trigger. He is the source of her madness and "melancholy" (depression), she has nightmares about him regularly enough that her husband is aware of them, and it is implied that she has been institutionalized in the past. Thomas Hutter is the physical representation of her one desperate hope for a normal life - but as the story progresses, she finds herself being denied even that. Orlok's psychic connection with her verges on demonic possession; in chilling, The Exorcist-inspired sequences, she writhes and mutters, prophesying a city-wide reign of death and terror. In pursuit of his claim on Ellen, Orlok terrorizes her husband, murders her friends - and, eventually, she gives her life to take him with her to the grave, saving the city from the plague he caused.

That is the horror element of Nosferatu; it deals with an exploration of childhood trauma, of PTSD, of difficulties maintaining a social life after the fact. It is easy to understand even from a modern viewpoint, and it pushes the film to its conclusion with a bleak, heart-wrenching punch.

The horror is not the only element of Nosferatu.

To contextualize the alternate - though just as correct - reading of the film, it is essential to understand that Ellen’s society was extremely sexually repressed, especially in regards to female and queer sexuality.

Both were severely medicalized, demonized, and restricted; and as such, when these topics do make an appearance in contemporary fiction, they are often inextricable from disgust and fear.

Dedicated as always to historical accuracy, Eggers maintains the same setting-based narrative coding.

In anticipation of morality arguments vis à vis monstrosity, depiction, and modern purity culture, let me clarify: this is something that works within his chosen genre. Horror, and especially gothic horror, invites a deeper analysis in regard to morality and motivation, and in this case, Eggers' homage to the origins of that genre grounds the narrative in its time and location, as well as fleshing it out much further than a purely modern cultural lens would permit. In this context, the details of Ellen's connection with Orlok become paramount to the understanding of the film.

As bits and pieces of their background become revealed, the audience realizes that her psychic gift did not begin with him - and neither did her melancholy, or her isolation. She was born with her abilities, and throughout her childhood, she was a bit of a tomboy by her contemporary standards, running wild in the woods near her father's property; however, once she foretold her mother's death, and once she was too old to get away with eccentricities, her father became frightened of her abnormality. She was isolated, confined indoors, and that is when her melancholy had begun. Painfully lonely and aching for some form of companionship, she called out into the ether; and Orlok responded.

Over the course of their story, he becomes the physical manifestation of everything Ellen perceives as dark and sinful about herself.

He is psychic, he is vicious, possessive, and blatantly sexual; her sensual affection with Anna parallels the evident and physical attraction he displays towards Thomas; and the social power he so easily commands is the same that she lacks, being a woman in a rigidly patriarchal society.

In the end, the severely questionable age gap, the murders, the coercion, the betrayal - all of that comes down to respect. Throughout the film, that is the one thing that Ellen is consistently denied. She is young when she meets Orlok, yes; but she is aggressively infantilized by her surrounding society even when she is a grown, adult, married woman.

It starts from the beginning of the film, when the Hutters visit the Harding family. During those scenes, the men are shown talking business - while the women play with children in the parlour; and the same social framing persists into the body of the film. When Ellen is suffering from what appears to be some form of mental illness, she is referred to as a child by multiple different characters; and when the condition progresses, she is swiftly diagnosed with hysteria and drugged - thus being forcibly removed from the discussion of her own illness. The general reactions to that illness - which is, in fact, a display of her psychic abilities - range from annoyance to fear to curiosity; it is seen either as a disability or a curse, rather than anything entirely innate to who she is. Her fears are dismissed. Harding tells her to learn some deference. Even closer to the finale, when Von Franz admits that she could have been a great priestess in another age, he does so with pity rather than anything else; in their industrial era, he cannot help but see her only as a tragic sacrifice - horrible, but necessary to save the city from a plague. Brought in to heal her, he instead guides her to her death.

All these aspects of Ellen's circumstances find a direct opposite in her relationship with Orlok. Unlike all other characters in the film, he only ever sees her as his equal, which is made even more evident when his interactions with Thomas and Herr Knock are brought into consideration. With both men, Orlok insists on being addressed by his lordly title, "as his blood demands it"; and yet, Ellen never calls him by any title at all, be it "My Lord" or even a simple "Herr." She argues with him freely, and there is a familiarity between them that he is demonstrated to never tolerate from anyone else. Similarly, while he disguises the covenant he makes with Thomas, the terms of his covenant with Ellen are laid out clearly, in full. He does not hide from her; she already knows the worst of him, the same way he knows that she is intelligent, that she is powerful, and that she is not meant to be demure and deferring. Again and again, Orlok insists that Ellen is not meant for humanity - and the true horror, the horror she cannot bring herself to face, is that he is right.

In a sense, he is a mirror held up in front of her own face. Ellen is painfully aware that she does not fit in, and that she never has. The "normal" society, epitomized by the Hardings (wealthy husband, pretty blonde wife, 2.5 kids), has no place for her - and actively dislikes her.

The film makes this ostracism impossible for the viewer to ignore. As the story progresses, it becomes evident that the other human characters - even those that do sincerely care for Ellen - never truly know her. Anna loves her, but wishes she would not talk of dreadful things - and lashes out as a result of that discomfort, scolding her. Sievers finds himself bewildered by her; Knock sees her as an object to trade; Von Franz pities her, Harding hates her, and Thomas cannot truly satisfy her, even after being touched by the supernatural himself.

Seeing a flash of a monstrous face while they are together, he flings her away. To him, his experience with Orlok is merely traumatic, and he wishes for nothing more than to leave it behind. However, to her, it is something she cannot help but crave; and she continues to wear her lilac perfume.*

All that to say - Count Orlok is, simultaneously, everything Ellen wants and everything she is terrified of being.

That specific dichotomy reaches its climax during their mutual finale. As it is to be expected from a vampire wedding night, they rejoin in a sequence of sex, blood, and renewed vows - and what is particularly notable is that (unlike Murnau) Eggers makes it clear that this Orlok never intended to kill his Ellen, despite his inability to resist her blood. Though he drinks from her through the night, he stops at cock-crow; and she guides his head back down herself, distracting him long enough for the sun to rise. It is a duet of accident and intention. He drains her; and she holds him as the sun drains him. They cling together as they end - on a bed that serves their wedding and their death.

It is romantic. it is unquestionably romantic. However, that does not mean that the horror isn't also present; Ellen's consent, under these circumstances, is highly debatable, and Orlok is cruel, amoral, and murderously possessive. At the same time, the characters are also acting out folkloric archetypes, with precious little adjustment to that framework - which further removes them from a modern understanding of morality. He is Death, a Koschei the Deathless, a monster; she is the Maiden, a Vasilisa, a damsel. I hesitate to liken them to the Beauty and the Beast, largely because in the original premise of that story, the Beauty falls in love with the kindness that the Beast consistently displays; and it is essential to stress that Orlok has none. He does care for Ellen, in his own way, but he admits to being incapable of love as she defines it in human terms;** and, curiously, that seems to be her primary concern when it comes to the idea of accepting his proposal - rather than all the blood and carnage.

What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that there are multiple ways of following a story, and multiple different stories in a film as nuanced as Nosferatu. Yes, it is about grooming and trauma. Yes, it is about finding love outside of the cage that is "polite society." I'm sure that it is many other things besides, with as many meanings as there are people in the theatres; after all, I am only one person, and the film grossed something over $40M in its first three days. The point is, really, that this is a story in which a rotting vampire is woken from centuries of deathlike slumber by a lonely voice asking him to be her friend; and whatever these two strange and aching souls do with that can go down any myriad of paths. The film trusts the viewer to interpret the narrative they choose.

* LILAC PERFUME - in fact, it is such a consistent favourite of Ellen's that Orlok smells it on her hair in the locket she sends with Thomas to the castle. Thomas never really learns the reason she likes that scent - even though he knows that preference well enough that he gifts her lilacs in the beginning of the film.

** ORLOK'S OBSESSION - this is a side note, but: the vampire wedding sequence reminds me strongly of the third season of NBC's Hannibal. I suppose that was to be expected, considering that Hannibal is also a Dracula offshoot, much like Orlok himself. When Ellen snaps at Orlok that he cannot love, he responds that "no; but only with you, I can be truly sated." Similarly - "Is Hannibal in love with me?" asks Will; and Bedelia responds - "Could he feel a daily stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you?" I'd say if you liked that series, you should try and see the film. It works with a familiar blend of aesthetic horror.

#nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #robert eggers #lily rose depp #bill skarsgård #nicholas hoult #nosferatu spoilers #nosferatu analysis #nosferatu movie #willem dafoe #nosferatu meta #gothic horror #horror #horror film analysis #this movie respects its audience's intelligence #and that is everything to me #it doesn't spoon-feed you. it doesn't cave to over-explanation #it allows you to do the analysis yourself and read into the details #everyone say thank you robert eggers

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fuxuannie · 8 months ago

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❥﹒ken sato x gender neutral reader

✦. synopsis — romantic headcanons about our favourite baseball player!

✦. love mail — i finished the movie and i loved his character development, simply the sweetest thing <3

✦. tags — SPOILERS, fluff, dadgirl kenji, kenji sato x reader, i have not written in several months, i wrote this w my brain off ( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ ) aka i was just SPITTING whatever brain rot came to mind

I imagine Kenji to be the clingy, but doesn’t want to be type. He loves you, so much, so dearly. But affection isn’t his strong suit, especially not after what happened with his family. He shut out emotions for years, at least towards others. So this feeling of love, a nostalgic one, tends to clash with the walls he’s put up. He’ll hold you in his arms, burying his face in your shoulder, only for hours later to cringe at himself. He’s talked to you about it a thousand times, and he’s listened to you reassure him twice as many. He adores your patience with him, it's something he’s never really had.. especially with so much pressure on his shoulders.

Explaining his identity was surely no easy feat, you thought dating the most iconic and popular baseball players was the hardest thing? Imagine dating Ultraman, who came home to you every other week with some new injury. You always wondered why the reason was so simple for such a complicated wound, “I spilled boiling water on myself,” He explains with burn marks that are far more severe than expected. “I fell down the stairs”, he’ll say after landing in the hospital.. It didn’t make sense. And now that it does and you know the true reasons, your concern is far worse. Though he doesn’t mind the extra attention you give. ;)

Meeting his dad for the first time was.. nerve-wracking. You know how Kenji talks about him, and you weren’t sure what kind of impression you’ll make. But here you were, sitting on a couch and fiddling with your thumbs until you hear a doorbell. Before Kenji could even stand, you rushed to your feet and practically sprinted for the door, only to open it slowly and gently to reveal the kind old man standing outside. “Hello.” Cut to maybe an hour later, you’re laughing at old pictures of Kenji as he sits next to you and an arm wrapped around your shoulder. The two had a long path of forgiveness and understanding ahead, but Kenji appreciated that you brought him and his father together.

Thought the dad was scary? Imagine his daughter. As expected, the moment you walk into the room - distress. Emi’s starting to cry, an unfamiliar presence is in the room and it scares her. You’ve done a few babysitting jobs here and there, and she was really just like a child. Kenji apologized for her outburst and transforms to calm her down, opening the lid and picking her up under her arms. “No no, don’t cry.” His voice soothes her, and almost immediately - she’s okay again. It’ll take a few minutes, it really isn’t long until she trusts too you. Kenji found it adorable, how you played with her so casually.. many would be terrified, and rightfully so - but to him? It just displays your kind heart. My God did he love you.

Remember first headcanon? Right, to add to that, he’s not very good at vulnerability either. He’ll love to comfort you when you cry, or hold you when you need him. But if the roles were reversed? Absolutely not. He’s uncomfortable and you can see it, one look into his eyes and it’s like looking through glass.. he hates being open about his true feelings. Even if it’s with you.. the walls he’s built for 20 years aren’t easy to break, you know? But if you’re patient, and you take your time and say the right words – he’ll crack. And like a dam breaking, the water flows in an uncontrollable wave of sadness. He’ll sob, he’ll break, and he’ll need you more than anything. He doesn’t know how to feel about breaking down, but the way you hold him in your arms and whisper sweet nothings to comfort him, he could get used to it.

But on a lighthearted note, he loves dates! Most have to be in his home, because Emi can be clingy (got it from his dad), but you don’t mind. It’s sweet, he’ll have you play baseball with her or all you do is cuddle ontop of her, it’s the cutest little thing. But other times, when you go out– it’s just the two of you. And upon special request from Kenji for Mina to babysit her while you're there, you two get alone time. and it’s everything to him. The smallest affection has his heart racing like a teenage boy again, wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, kissing him? Goodness, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it. You and Emi are his world, and he’ll do everything to protect it. Other days, you, him, and and his father go out to the home in the woods for some personal time. You get to talk about his childhood with him and you talk about yours. There’s such a tender and unforgettable atmosphere when you’re with them. And you truly feel like you belong.

Overotectiveness, he was full of it. He’s lost so much, and all he wanted was for you to not go either. Nothing, nothing could stop his rage at the idea of you being hurt. You, Emi, anyone else important to him. He’ll take on the world for his family, and by the will of his parents he has. The pain he’s endured, the scars you scold him for so much are for you. If one threat escapes the city, that’s one likely chance he loses you. So he does everything he can to handle it. You’ve never gotten hurt, but the idea of it is enough for him to strive to be stronger.

While recovering from the explosion, you never left his side. It pained you to see him so still, lack of life. He’d usually be pacing back and forth in the room, rambling about something, and when you’d call him a nerd or dork, he'd run to you and playfully attack you with kisses. His arms around you tightly as you two would laugh your worries away, you didn’t have that privilege. You’d either laugh alone or not at all, the pain all too much. When he wakes up, best believe you’re there, and you just cry at the sight of his arms opening. You know his body is far too unstable for a hug, so you squeeze his hand. How grateful you are to feel him squeeze back.

With Mina and Emi gone, the house feels a little more lonely.. but Kenji’s adjusting. Especially because you moved in! He’s able to spend more time with you in bed since he didn’t have to tend to Emi, which was a nice plus. He woke up earlier than you (force of habit.) and he’d just.. stare. Maybe it was a little creepy, but seeing you sound asleep in his arms gave him such joy. He loved the little domestic moments he shared with you, it had him appreciating all the smaller things in life. Like sharing a meal with you, or watching movies together. You made him love the simpler aspects of living.

#♡ — 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman rising

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eggmansplatformboots · 2 months ago

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SONIC 3 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!! i just got back from the movie and OH MY GOD

this was so cute and cool as a scene and the fact it turned into LIVE AND LEARN?????? ARHRGRGRH i have so many thoughts!!!!!! please block the spoiler tag for my blog goddamn 💀

this is the quickest sketch ive made pleasee wait for more art inspired later :)!!!

#sonic #sth #sonic 3 spoilers #sonic movie 3 spoilers #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #art tag #sonadow #???? i fuckin guess #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanart

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termonitu · 1 year ago

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Living off of ✨Nostalgia✨

General thoughts of the movie (no spoilers): I personally had a ton of fun watching it and I think all other fnaf fans will too, but I understand people's complaints about it not being scary enough.

It had some real hype moments and the set/animatronics looked absolutely amazing, 8/10 👍 currently rewatching it

Speed paint under cut:

#digital art #my art #artists on tumblr #art #digital painting #digital illustration #fnaf #fnaf fanart #fnaf sb #digital fanart #horror #fnaf bonnie #fnaf chica #fnaf 1 #fnaf 1 fanart #freddy fazbear #fnaf movie #speedpaint

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tragic-ships-tournament · 21 days ago

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Tragic Ships Tournament: FINAL ROUND

Propaganda under the cut!

Orphydice:

"y'all probably know the story of orpheus and eurydice. but they are SO tragedy. they are TEXTBOOK tragedy. they redefined the genre. on their literal wedding day as she's walking down the aisle eurydice gets bit by a snake and dies. orpheus loves her so much he goes down to the underworld to try and save her. hades allows him to take her back to the land of the living, as long as she walks behind him, and he cannot look back, otherwise her soul will be taken. he's mostly fine , but begins to doubt and at the very end of the tunnel, he looks back. they lock eyes for a moment before she disappears back into hell. orpheus is then so distraught that he wanders the earth singing mournful melodies and gets stoned to death by some nymphs who think his sad songs are bumming them out. DUUUUDE their story consumed my every waking thought as a child."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

#shipping #ships #fandom #polls #tragic ships tournament #hadestown #orpheus and euridyce #orpheus and eurydice #orphydice #greek mythology #pmmm spoilers #pmmm #madohomu #madoka magica spoilers #puella madoka magica spoilers #madoka magica #madoka kaname #homura akemi

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heejamas · 30 days ago

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nicest guy: 22. unspoken desires

word count: ~5.5k words + 7 screenshots

warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, jake and hoon hate each other, lil bit voyeurish (spoilers), very suggestive

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There’s something uniquely terrifying about being invited to a college party—especially when it’s at Yeonjun’s frat house. Not in the way horror movies are, where someone’s about to get stabbed by a masked lunatic. No, this is worse. This is the kind of terrifying that comes from knowing the night will definitely end in chaos, and somehow, you’ll be at the center of it.

more under the cut

The last time you set foot in Yeonjun’s chaotic palace of regrets and poor decisions, Sunghoon puked on your cousin—yes, your actual flesh-and-blood cousin who was just trying to enjoy a casual Friday night. The cops showed up ten minutes later, and you ended up hiding in a room with both Jake and Sunghoon. To top it off, your older brother almost got arrested because someone (and you’re not saying it was Woonhak, but let’s be real, it was Woonhak) thought it’d be funny to sneak into the party, got stuck in the bushes outside, and caused such a commotion that he got 2 million likes on TikTok sharing his story.

So yeah, when Jake—quarterback extraordinaire and human golden retriever—invited you to another party at Yeonjun’s, your first instinct was to laugh. Your second instinct was to say no, but Jake’s puppy eyes were criminally persuasive.

You caught that subtle hint of “I’ll literally implode if you don’t come.” Jake’s crush on you wasn’t exactly subtle. It was the kind of crush that was written all over his face every time he saw you, like he was auditioning for a rom-com where he was the lovable idiot and you were the girl who was way too good for him.

Then there was Sunghoon, who… well, let’s just say he was a different breed. If Jake was a golden retriever, Sunghoon was a cat. One of those sleek, arrogant ones that you desperately wanted to pet, even though you knew they’d probably claw your hand off. He’d be there too. Of course he would. The universe had a sick sense of humor like that.

Now you’re standing in front of your closet, trying to decide if you want to look hot enough to make Jake’s jaw drop, or just cool enough to get under Sunghoon’s skin.

So you decided to have some fun. At least.

When you finally arrive at Yeonjun’s, the bass from the music is already thudding so hard it feels like it’s trying to crack the pavement. Sunoo and Giselle, your best friends and loyal companions for this adventure, are walking on either side of you, both armed with energy that screams “let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

Inside, the party is already in full swing, and you’re immediately greeted by the familiar chaos: red solo cups everywhere, someone already trying to drunkenly rap along to the music, and Yeonjun himself standing on a table pretending to DJ. You scan the room until your eyes land on your brother, who’s laughing with none other than Sunghoon.

Great. Sunghoon. Just your luck.

Your brother waves you over, and as you approach, you realize the group is bigger than you expected. Sunghoon, of course, is there, but so is Jay, his roommate, along with Leehan and Taesan, who you recognize from the last party disaster.

“Y/n!” your brother calls, throwing an arm around your shoulder like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Finally, you’re here.”

You exchange greetings, but your eyes keep flickering to Sunghoon, who’s watching you with that unreadable expression he always has. He’s been acting weird around you lately, and you’re pretty sure you know why. He wants you back. He’s finally admitted it to himself, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

Still, he’s sticking close, hovering just enough to make his presence known. And as much as you’d like to ignore it, you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the room. It’s unsettling—and annoyingly flattering.

But you’ve got bigger problems. Like the fact that Jake is also here, and you need to go say hi to him. After all, he’s the one who invited you, and it would be rude not to. You excuse yourself from your brother’s group, promising to catch up later, and head toward the other side of the room where you spotted Jake. Jake, incredibly hot Jake.

Jake lights up when he sees you, his grin as bright and boyish as ever. “Y/n! You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you say, returning his smile. “I couldn’t miss the big victory party, could I?”

“Exactly,” Jake says, clearly thrilled that you’re here. “We totally crushed it last week, didn’t we? Sunghoon and I were unstoppable out there.”

“You were great,” you agree, though you can’t help but notice the slight tension in his voice when he mentions Sunghoon. The two of them may be incredible on the field, but off the field, their mutual dislike is impossible to ignore.

“Speaking of Sunghoon,” Jake says, glancing over your shoulder, “is he still glued to you, or did he finally give you some space?”

You turn to see Sunghoon not far away, leaning against a wall but very much keeping you in his line of sight. The look on his face when your eyes meet is enough to send a shiver down your spine. It’s almost like a challenge, daring you to ignore him.

“I asked both of you to be civil tonight,” you remind Jake with a raised eyebrow. “Can you at least try?”

Jake sighs dramatically but nods. “For you? Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Sunghoon leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on you and Jake as if they were glued there by some invisible force. He hated this—hated how much he noticed the way Jake’s grin widened when you laughed, how easily you seemed to click with him. But mostly, he hated the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

There was something magnetic between you two, something that made it impossible for Sunghoon to keep his distance. He didn’t want to admit it at first, but lately, it was all he could think about. The way your smile made his chest tighten, the way your presence turned every room into something brighter, warmer. And it wasn’t just him—he knew Jake felt it too. He could see it in the way Jake looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

This wasn’t the first time he and Jake had been in this situation, though. A painful memory tugged at the edges of his mind, a memory he wished he could bury. Wonyoung. That name alone was enough to make his stomach twist. Back when he and Jake were friends—actual friends, not whatever tense truce they had now—they’d both fallen for Wonyoung. She’d played them both, lied to them, and left their friendship in ruins. But neither of them knew the full truth about what happened, not really. Sunghoon had tried to piece it together, but the whole thing still felt like a mess of half-truths and unanswered questions.

And now, here they were again, caught in a silent war over you.

He clenched his jaw, watching as Jake led you across the room to meet his friends. Sunghoon’s fists tightened at his sides, but he didn’t move. Not yet. He didn’t want to cause a scene, especially not here. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that history was about to repeat itself—and this time, it would be worse.

Jake, on the other hand, was living his best life. He couldn’t believe you were actually here, standing next to him, smiling like you weren’t the most gorgeous person in the room. He’d been planning this all week—trying to make sure everything was perfect, or at least as perfect as it could be at Yeonjun’s chaotic house party.

“Come on,” Jake said, his hand brushing yours as he guided you through the crowd. “Let’s find the guys."

When you reached their group, they greeted you like an old friend. Heeseung was the first to pull you into a quick hug, his usual warm grin lighting up his face. “Y/n! Finally. Jake’s been insufferable all week, you know. All, ‘Do you think she’ll come? What should I wear?’ It was tragic.”

“Shut up,” Jake groaned, rubbing the back of his neck while you laughed.

Beomgyu piped up next, his energy as chaotic as ever. “And don’t forget how he made us all run drills twice this week. ‘Gotta keep the momentum from the game,’” Beomgyu said, mimicking Jake’s voice. “It’s a party, not a press conference, dude.”

“You’re just mad I benched you last semester,” Jake shot back, smirking.

Beomgyu held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair. But hey, at least now they know I’m not just a benchwarmer.”

“They should’ve known that the second you stepped on the field,” you said, giving him a small smile. “That last game? You killed it.”

Beomgyu’s grin widened. “Thanks, Y/n. At least someone here appreciates me.”

Soobin chimed in with a dry laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head, Beomgyu.”

The banter flowed easily, the group dynamic comfortable and familiar. But despite the lighthearted vibe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was brewing. You’d caught Sunghoon watching you earlier, his gaze heavy, like he was trying to tell you something without words. And Jake—he was trying so hard to keep your attention, but there was an edge to him tonight, a tension that didn’t quite match his usual easygoing demeanor.

Later, Jake led you outside, away from the noise and chaos of the party. The cool night air wrapped around you as you stepped onto the deck, and for a moment, it felt like you could breathe again.

Jake leaned against the railing, his hands in his pockets as he looked over at you. “You’re having fun, right?”

“I am,” you said, smiling. “Your friends always make it easy.”

“They like you,” Jake said, his voice softer now. “I mean… who wouldn’t?”

The way he was looking at you made your stomach flip. There was something different about his expression—something serious, almost vulnerable. He took a step closer, the tension between you building with each passing second. The cool night air was a relief after the chaos inside, and you leaned against the railing, letting out a breath. Jake stood next to you, that signature lopsided grin playing on his lips.

“But they speak way too much,” he sighed. “Thought I’d never get you alone.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? That was your goal all along?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “What can I say? Gotta take my chances.”

It was easy with Jake. The banter, the teasing—it never felt forced. And maybe that’s what made moments like this dangerous.

“Gotta admit,” he continued, eyes flicking to yours, “you look really good tonight.”

The way he said it, casual but undeniably flirty, sent a small thrill down your spine.

“You say that like I don’t always look good,” you shot back, smirking.

Jake laughed, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Okay, fair point.”

For a moment, the conversation lulled, but it wasn’t awkward. Just… charged. He was close, and you could tell he was waiting for something. A sign, maybe.

And then his expression shifted—just slightly, but enough for you to notice.

Before you could respond, the door to the backyard opened, and Sunghoon stepped out, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Jungwon was with him, even though he had no idea you were there with Jake. Sunghoon looked like he had something on his mind, but when he saw Jake next to you, his expression tightened.

Jungwon and Sunghoon approached you and Jake, their casual demeanor almost making you forget how tense things were between them. Sunghoon gave you a nod, his eyes briefly lingering on you before shifting to Jake. Jungwon seemed to sense the shift, giving a little shrug as he offered Sunghoon the joint. "Alright, no fights tonight, okay? Let's just keep it chill."

Sunghoon took the joint with a grin that barely concealed the edge in his voice. "Yeah, yeah, no promises," he said, his eyes locking onto Jake for a second too long. The message was clear: they were both trying to play nice, but it was only because you asked them to. And neither of them were doing it because they wanted to.

"Hey," Jungwon greeted with his usual friendly grin. "You two good?"

"Yeah," you answered, flashing a smile. "Just enjoying the fresh air."

Sunghoon didn’t say much, just a subtle tilt of his head as he looked at both of you. His eyes then shifted to the joint in his hand, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Want a hit?" Sunghoon asked, his voice smooth, offering it to you and Jake. The offer hung in the air, the tension between him and Jake as thick as the smoke curling around them.

Jake shot Sunghoon a glance, his posture stiffening for just a second. "Nah, we’re good," he said, quickly turning to you. "Right, Y/N?"

You shrugged, but the playful glint in your eye didn’t escape Sunghoon's notice. "I’m good," you replied, your voice light. "But thanks."

"Alright then," Sunghoon said, exhaling smoke and offering a small smile. He didn’t wait for any more responses before walking away, Jungwon falling into step beside him.

As they walked off, you noticed how Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you with heat in his stare. It was like a challenge, and something in his eyes told you that he wasn’t done with this game yet.

The moment felt charged—electrified—but it broke when Jake cleared his throat, putting a hand gently on your arm. "Let’s head back inside," he suggested, his voice more urgent than usual. "We’re missing all the fun."

As you walked back into the party with Jake, the noise and chaos of Yeonjun's house party immediately swallowed you up. The beat of the music thudded in your chest, and the air was thick with laughter, chatter, and the scent of alcohol. Jake’s hand brushed against yours briefly, but when you reached the group of your friends, he gave you a quick nod, clearly excited to see them.

"Catch you later," he said, his grin easy and casual as he drifted off toward Heeseung and some of the others.

But just before he turned away, you caught a flash of irritation in his eyes. It was subtle, hidden under the mask of his usual charm, but you could tell. He hadn’t gotten his chance with you yet, and that was clearly bugging him. The thought of being brushed off for now didn’t sit well with him, but he wasn’t about to let it show. Not yet.

You could almost feel the weight of his unspoken frustration as he turned his back, but as he made his way through the crowd, his determination was clear. He wasn’t going to give up on you that easily.

You waved him off, letting him disappear into the crowd as you focused on Sunoo and Giselle, who were already waving you over.

"Finally managed to escape the chaos outside?" Sunoo teased, his usual grin spreading across his face. You joined them, enjoying the chat, but there was still a lingering sense of tension that you couldn’t shake off. You tried to push it aside, making the most of the time with your friends.

As Jake disappeared into the crowd, you didn’t think much of it. Instead, you turned back to your friends, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you decided to let loose for a bit. The rest of the night carried on with drinks, laughter, and dancing. Sunoo and Giselle were already leading you in a ridiculous dance-off, and you were more than happy to oblige, tossing back shots and swaying to the beat as the music enveloped you.

For a while, you forgot all about the JakeHoon situation. The fun of the night kept you distracted, and you laughed harder than you had in a long time.

But as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or rather, someone—was missing. When you finally found yourself in a quieter spot near the bar, nursing another drink and chatting with Giselle, you felt a flicker of that familiar, magnetic pull again. You turned your head just in time to see Sunghoon walking back into the party, his expression unreadable, but his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

It was almost as if the room quieted when he stepped in, the noise fading in the background as you watched him glide through the crowd with that undeniable confidence. And when his eyes landed on you, that quiet intensity returned, making your heart skip a beat.

He’d been gone for a while, but now, Sunghoon was back—and it seemed like he was looking for something… or maybe someone.

His movements were smooth and effortless, cutting through the crowd like he owned the place. His eyes never strayed from you as he made his way over, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking toward you with purpose—like a predator closing in on its prey.

"Hey," Sunghoon said when he reached you, his tone playful, though his gaze was anything but lighthearted. He quickly nodded toward your friends. "You having fun?"

Sunoo grinned back, and Giselle raised an eyebrow, but before either of them could say anything, Sunghoon’s attention shifted solely to you. He leaned closer, just enough to make you feel the warmth of his body next to yours. "Looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself," he remarked, his voice low and easy, as if they’d known each other for much longer than just tonight. What's that supposed to mean?

You raised an eyebrow, trying to match his tone. "Wouldn’t you be too, if you weren't in my shoes?" you replied, voice teasing.

Sunghoon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’m sure you’re used to all the attention by now," he said, giving you a once-over that made your skin prickle. His gaze lingered, and you felt that familiar tension building up between you two.

You chuckled softly, trying to play it off. "I don’t know. Seems like there’s always someone else trying to catch my eye."

Sunghoon’s lips twitched into a half-smirk. "Oh, I’m sure you can keep them waiting. Though," he leaned in a little closer, just enough to make you aware of his proximity, "I wouldn’t keep them waiting too long."

As you exchanged words, you felt a pair of eyes watching you from the corner of your vision. Glancing over, you caught a glimpse of Jake standing across the room, his eyes fixed on the two of you. He didn’t approach, but the tension in his stare was unmistakable.

Sunghoon noticed too, and a smirk tugged at his lips. He pulled back just slightly, his tone shifting. "You should get back to your boyfriend," he said, the words dripping with playful challenge. His gaze, however, was still locked on you, the heat in it not quite masked by the lighthearted remark.

After Sunghoon left, you kept talking with Sunoo and Giselle, trying to shake off the weirdness in the air. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to know Sunghoon’s eyes were on you the entire time. The guy had a way of looking at you like you were his next challenge, and you were starting to get a little tired of it. Or, well, maybe not tired, more like… intrigued?

You were at the bar, scanning the options for your next drink when you felt a familiar presence behind you. Without even having to look, you could feel the tension in the air—it was Jake. You half-turned and gave him a smile. He was leaning against the bar, looking at you like he was about to say something, but there was a little more intent in his gaze than you were used to.

"Hey," Jake said, eyes scanning you quickly, like he was checking for any signs of discomfort. "Everything good?"

"Yeah, just getting a drink," you replied, glancing around at the chaos of the party. It was busy, loud, and full of people—yet, it felt like the noise started to fade when he stood next to you.

Jake leaned in, his arm brushing against yours as he spoke. "Just don’t go overboard with the drinks, alright?" He flashed you a teasing smirk, but there was something softer underneath. "But if you do get a little too wild, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Just like you did for me last time."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by the shift in tone. "You really think I need someone to take care of me?" you teased, your lips curving into a smile.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well, considering how you saved me from turning into a disaster last time, I figured I’d return the favor." His eyes glinted with a mischievous spark as he added, "But honestly, I’d rather just have you around and make sure you’re enjoying the night."

You smirked, a little flattered but still keeping up the playful attitude. "I’m a big girl, Jake. I think I can handle it."

Jake's grin widened, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar intensity. He leaned in a bit closer, his voice lower now, almost like he was sharing a secret.

"I know you're a big girl," he said with a playful wink. "But that doesn't mean I can't look out for you. Besides, there's something about keeping you close that makes everything a lot more fun."

You could feel the heat of his words, and it made your heart race a little faster. His tone was smooth, almost dangerously charming. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was enjoying getting under your skin, pushing all the right buttons.

You leaned back against the bar, trying to play it cool. "I’m not sure if you’re trying to flirt with me or just make me feel like I’m about to be babysat, but it’s working either way."

Jake laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with that familiar cocky energy. "Maybe a little bit of both," he teased, then added with a smirk, "But hey, if you’d rather I just focus on keeping you entertained instead of worrying about your drinks, I’m all for that too."

You felt the tension between you two, a pull that only seemed to grow stronger with each word. The music of the party seemed to fade out completely as you locked eyes with him again.

"Alright, so what’s your plan then?" you asked, leaning in just slightly.

Jake took a slow step back, his grin never faltering. "How about I show you a quieter spot?" He raised an eyebrow as he glanced toward the stairs. "We can talk a little more. I promise it’s not as boring as it sounds."

You glanced toward the staircase for a moment, then back at him. A part of you was curious, but you weren’t sure if this was just another one of his playful moves—or something more.

"Lead the way," you said, trying to keep your voice casual, though there was a spark of excitement in your chest.

Jake’s smile was triumphant as he gestured toward the stairs. "This way, then."

As you followed him up the stairs, you couldn’t help but notice the way he moved, confident, almost like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. And as you reached the top of the stairs, you realized there was no backing out now—this was going to be one interesting night.

As you and Jake made your way up the stairs, you couldn’t help but notice Sunghoon standing a little further away, his eyes locked on you two. He looked… well, you couldn’t quite place it, but there was definitely something in his gaze. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t exactly admiration either. It was like a mix of confusion, jealousy, and, strangely enough, something else.

You could feel it, but you didn’t have time to linger on it too long. Jake's hand brushed yours as you reached the top of the stairs, and the tension between you two was almost unbearable.

Just as you stepped onto the landing, Jake glanced back, only to find Sunghoon still watching you. Their eyes for a split second, and it was almost like a silent exchange, like they were sizing each other up. Sunghoon took a slow sip from his drink, eyes narrowing slightly, almost as if he was giving Jake some kind of… permission.

Jake, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. As you passed a group of people laughing and chatting, you caught a glimpse of Heeseung entering a room with a girl. Jake didn’t recognize her at first, but the moment he saw her face, he remembered the girl's name. Ronnie. Heeseung's situationship. Jake lets out a quiet laugh, though he’s already turning his attention back to you.

Jake, still leading you down the quieter part of the hall, was all smiles as he glanced back at you. “So, what do you think? Pretty nice spot, huh?”

You took in the vibe of the hallway. It was quieter here, a little more private, but not entirely deserted. You could still hear some laughter and faint music from the main area of the party. "Yeah, definitely not the worst place to escape to."

Jake turned to face you, a teasing grin on his face. “Well, you know, I don’t just bring anyone up here.”

You smirked, not missing the implication. “I’m honored, then.”

The playful tension was thick between you two now, and you could tell Jake was trying to decide whether to make his move or not. His eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His smirk turned into something more genuine, more real. He wasn’t just playing anymore—he was figuring out whether you were the kind of girl who would let him take the lead, or if you were going to make him work for it.

"You know," Jake says with that same cocky smile, "I’ve been thinking. You really know how to make everything more interesting than it should be. Not that I’m complaining, of course."

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? I thought I was just keeping things fun."

Jake chuckles, a little more softly this time. "Yeah, but I’m starting to think I might want to keep you to myself tonight. You know, less distractions."

His tone shifts just a little, something softer underneath the teasing. The air between you both feels a little heavier now, the kind of tension that makes your heart race.

As the playful banter continued, you both found yourselves moving a little closer, the tension building. And you both knew this moment was just about ready to hit a tipping point.

But before Jake could make any move, you noticed out of the corner of your eye—Sunghoon. He was still standing down the hall with Jay, but now, there was no mistaking the look on his face. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was… something more. Jake noticed too, and his posture stiffened, though he didn’t acknowledge Sunghoon directly. He just kept his focus on you.

“You know,” Jake said, leaning in a bit more, “we’re not gonna get interrupted here. Not like back downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming. "You sure?"

Jake chuckled softly, eyes glinting with a touch of amusement. "Definitely not."

And just like that, you both knew—you didn’t need to rush this, but the moment had definitely arrived. As the moment stretched on, you realized this was it. The game was on.

The moment lingered in the air like a breath held too long. You and Jake stood there, just inches apart, the weight of it all between you. The conversation had slowed, but not because there was nothing to say—it was because words didn’t feel necessary anymore.

Jake brushed a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "You know, you're even more beautiful up close," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You smiled, the playful tension still hanging there. "Flattery, huh? Is that how you get girls?"

He grinned, his gaze shifting between your lips and your eyes. "If it works, yeah. But I think you're more than just… a pretty face."

He leaned in, just enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. Jake’s hand lingered on your chin, tilting your face just the right way, and you felt your heart race. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness in the way he looked at you, like he was waiting for permission, even though neither of you had said a word.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper, as if he needed you to say it aloud before he could take the next step.

You nodded, a slight smile tugging at your lips. "I think you know it is."

And just like that, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, his hands now at your waist, holding you tightly, as if the only thing that mattered in that moment was you and him.

His lips moved against yours with a steady pressure, coaxing you to lean into him. You let out a soft breath as the kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else—the noise of the party, the other people in the house—disappeared entirely.

Jake’s lips were soft but demanding, his touch gentle but confident, and you couldn’t help but respond. His hand moved to the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair, and pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. The heat between you two was undeniable, and for once, everything around you felt irrelevant.

Your pulse quickened, your body instinctively reacting to his closeness. His lips were in perfect sync with yours, and the kiss became more urgent, more intense. You could feel his breath against your skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart racing just as fast as yours. His hand moved to your back, drawing you in so tightly you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

His lips left yours briefly, and you felt him press his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, the space between you two almost unbearable. His voice was barely a whisper, filled with heat. “You make it hard to stop,” he muttered, his fingers trailing down your back in slow, deliberate motions.

You smirked, your hand brushing against his chest. “You’re not exactly trying to stop.”

Jake chuckled darkly, his lips curving into a smile as he kissed you again, deeper this time. You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his clothes. The kiss was no longer just a kiss.

And then, from the corner of your eye, you felt it. Someone was watching.

Sunghoon.

From a distance, he stood there, his eyes fixed on the scene. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, but the way he watched felt almost too intense. Like he was studying the moment, feeling the tension simmering in his chest, but not knowing what to do with it. His hand tightened around his drink, and Jay, standing beside him, noticed the subtle shift.

“You good?” Jay asked, giving Sunghoon a side glance, confused by the way his friend seemed both intrigued and irritated.

Sunghoon didn’t respond at first, his gaze still locked on Jake and you. His jaw clenched slightly, and for the first time, Jay wondered if there was something more going on in Sunghoon’s head. It was a weird mix of jealousy and something else he couldn’t quite place. Sunghoon didn’t say anything—he just sipped his drink, eyes never leaving the couple.

Meanwhile, Jake, completely oblivious to the silent observer, was enjoying the kiss, the quiet power of the moment. He knew Sunghoon was watching, could feel his presence from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. If anything, it made the kiss feel even more thrilling, knowing that someone else—someone who hated him—was helpless to look away.

And when the kiss finally broke, you were both left breathless, eyes locked. The distance between you two had disappeared, and it wasn’t just a physical space. Something else had shifted, something far deeper.

“So,” Jake said, voice husky as he leaned his forehead against yours, “What now, princess?”

You smirked, already feeling the spark between you two. "Guess we wait and see."

But neither of you could deny that the game had just begun.

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author's note: I ADDED AN EASTER EGG YES I INSERTED MYSELF I DONT FUCKING CARE I WANTED TO BE INVOLVED AND NOW IM HEESEUNG'S SITUATIONSHIP THANK YOU. and sunghoon's voyeurish. i wish you all a jubilant evening

taglist: @jayparked @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @kixri @soobnuuy @dreamiestay @somuchdard @nyyoryyu @atinyrosedoor @enhaverse713586 @miszes @wildtigerlili @hoonkishoe @wilonevys @m1dn1ghtv1olet @who-tf-soddhi @ilovewonyo @nickiminajleftasscheek @ikeulove @payformycoffeeandleave @jvngw0nlvr @qtke @nikirangs @rairaiblog @tinyteezer @catecita @aespaqq @cyberstephzz @jakesimfromstatefarm @maniluvzyou @stormy1408 @missychief1404 @heevrs @shuichi-sama @enhastars @immelissaaa @pjselee @hexnoia @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @love-4-keum @doublebunv @minfolio @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @sumzysworld @doveblackboat @psychotic-girl-666 @kukkurookkoo @allie-mcginn @jkslvsnella @winterearls @why4anne @jakesfurry @steddie-steddie @elegancefr

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ennn · 5 months ago

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Hold the fuck up, this isn’t a real trial.

In retrospect a number of things about the episode, especially the coven's characterisation felt off... and now on rewatch I'm pretty certain this isn't a trial of the Road at all – it's the Salem Seven punishing Agatha.

Clues under the cut with some spoilers from future scenes in trailers / promo clips.

Clue #1 – No screen aspect ratio change

As @wolfcracker points out, for the two previous trials the screen ratio changed once they entered the place (going full screen). We didn't get that for this cabin.

Clue #2 – No phase of the moon decoration at the entrance

We've had these obviously built into the previous trial entrances but there's no sign of one for this cabin.

The coven's so panicked getting chased by the locusts they don't notice it running in. The door is made of wooden planks with tiny gaps in between and you don't see a sign of any moon on the other side either.

Notably, in a trailer and promo shot, you see the moon featured prominently again for an upcoming trial, when Agatha and Billy cross a stone bridge structure and approach an entrance (presumably of the tower).

Clue #3 – Each trial has an element, this cabin doesn't

This was something that seemed odd even before this episode, we saw five weird horror movie-trope settings – assumed to be trials – in posters and promotional materials but there are only four identified elements for the Road.

Sure you could have more moon phases (like we do irl) but the Ballad that is central the show only mentions four elements: fire, water, earth, and air.

Our first two trials had strong ties with an element: if you failed you'd be killed by that element or something associated with it i.e. drowning or burning.

Now from the promos, an upcoming trial with the anti-gravity effect going on in a tower fits well with the air element. And the threat of death here is associated with going into the air (spikes in the ceiling).

Notice from the flying forms that this trial does go full-frame like the first two we certainly had (clue #1).

Another upcoming trial we know of (that looks like a morgue or asylum-like place) can be linked with the earth given that we see rocks and earth falling in a shot. Death by crushing earth.

This cabin had no element associated with it at all. The threat of death was by... Agatha siphoning your magic? Or in the case of Agatha, to be tortured forever by her mom?

Clue #4 – The trial area doesn't necessarily keep out the Salem Seven

From the promo shots of presumably the air trial (see above), we clearly see the Salem Seven in the tower attacking them. Why then did Locust and the rest of the Seven leave them alone in the cabin when they were right behind them?

Other sus elements

OK, these are more ambiguous and could be the result of bad writing but here's the other stuff in this "trial" that just seems off

The coven turns really really quickly on Agatha and viciously. And they literally just rode broomsticks where it's mentioned it's "about selflessness" and "we fly together or not at all". I mean yeah the people might lie but they were enough of a team that the magic for the broomsticks worked.

The trial's instruction was to just "punish Agatha"? That's oddly specific and pointed. Previous trials had the entire coven in danger (e.g. everyone had to drink the poison). Between this and the above point it feels like someone is mad at Agatha for killing lots of witches over the years. Some people like the Salem Seven.

The trials so far have tested the witch's ability in the craft (potion-making, protection) and how they work together. How does punishing or sacrificing Agatha align with the Road's test of "Burn and brew with coven true / And glory shall be thine" -- which we were just reminded of last week.

Jen calling and dismissing Billy as a familiar is... more mean-ness that I'd expect. You could make a case for her disliking Agatha, but the amount of venom in this moment towards the boy for trying is surprising considering she was trying to watch out for him not too long ago. Of course, it could be her frustration and fear in that moment boiling over.

Pretty much everything at the end after Billy snapping and going all dark and vengeful.

Ultimately we don't know what the Salem Seven can do. Sure they shriek like Nazgûl but turning into animals isn't the most threatening thing? So, bad writing and copium or is this show being truly tricksy and reality-bending?

#agatha all along #agatha all along spoilers #agatha harkness #tv: agatha all along #AAA meta

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thelordofshrimp · 2 years ago

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the baby powder thing explained (SPOILERS under the cut)

funny tie-in, epic ratio, just a little joke, right?

No.

He regrets the statement because, between the movies, it came out that baby powder with talc was causing various forms of cancer because it contains asbestos.

You know, the "if you or a loved one has been diagnosed with mesothelioma, you may be entitled to financial compensation" thing. That asbestos. In baby powder and makeup.

All of these articles are recent, but J&J has (allegedly) been aware of this issue for decades, and research into the carcinogenic effects of talcum powder has been going on for years.

It just hasn't made its way into the public eye until now.

Don't buy talc-based baby powder (or makeup). Learn from Spider-Man #2's mistakes.

#spiderverse spoilers #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv spoilers #spider man across the spider verse #spider man across the spider verse spoilers #trying to cover my bases to help people avoid spoilers where possible don't mind me #miles morales #baby powder

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fuckyeahisawthat · 11 months ago

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There are so many places in the Villeneuve Dune adaptations where he just...takes all the narrative pieces that Frank Herbert laid out and subtly rearranges them into something that tells the story better--that creates dramatic tension where you need it, communicates the themes and message of the book more clearly, or corrects something in the text that contradicts or undermines what Herbert said he was trying to say.

The fedaykin are probably my favorite example of this. I just re-read a little part of the book and got smacked in the face with how different they are.

(under the cut for book spoilers and length)

The fedaykin in the book are Paul's personal followers, sort of his personal guard. They show up after his legend has already started growing (the word doesn't appear in the book until chapter 40) and they are people who have specifically dedicated themselves to fighting for him, and right from the moment they're introduced there is a kind of implied fanaticism to their militancy that's a bit uncomfortable to read. They're the most ardent believers in Paul's messianic status and willing to die for him. (They are also, as far as you can tell from the text, all men.)

In the book, as far as I can remember (I could be forgetting some small detail but I don't think so) there is no mention of armed resistance to colonialism on Arrakis before Paul shows up. As far as we know, he created it. ETA: Okay I actually went back and checked on this and while we hear about the Fremen being "a thorn in the side" of the Harkonnens and we know that they are good fighters, we don't see anything other than possibly one bit of industrial sabotage. The book is very clear that the organized military force we see in the second half was armed and trained by Paul. This is exacerbated by the two-year time jump in the book, which means we never see how Paul goes from being a newly deposed ex-colonial overlord running for his life to someone who has his own private militia of people ready to give their lives for him.

The movie completely flips all these dynamics on their head in ways that add up to a radical change in meaning.

The fedaykin in the movie are an already-existing guerrilla resistance movement on Arrakis that formed long before Paul showed up. Literally the first thing we learn about the Fremen, less that two minutes into the first movie, is that they are fighting back against the colonization and exploitation of their home and have been for decades.

The movie fedaykin also start out being the most skeptical of the prophecy about Paul, which is a great choice from both a political and a character standpoint. Of course they're skeptical. If you're part of a small guerrilla force repeatedly going up against a much bigger and stronger imperial army...you have to believe in your own agency. You have to believe that it is possible to win, and that this tiny little chip in the armor of a giant terrifying military machine that you are making right now will make a difference in the end. These are the people who are directly on the front lines of resisting oppression. They are doing it with their own sweat, blood and ingenuity, and they are not about to wait around for some messiah who may never come.

From a character standpoint, this is really the best possible environment you could put Paul Atreides in if you want to keep him humble. He doesn't get any automatic respect handed to him due to title or birthright or religious belief. He has to prove himself--not as any kind of savior but as a good fighter and a reliable member of a collective political project. And he does. This is an environment that really draws out his best qualities. He's a skilled fighter; he's brave (sometimes recklessly so); he's intensely loyal to and protective of people he cares about. He is not too proud to learn from others and work hard in an egalitarian environment where he gets no special treatment or extra glory. The longer he spends with the fedaykin the more his allegiance shifts from Atreides to Fremen, and the more skeptical he himself becomes about the prophecy. This sets up the conflict with Jessica, which comes to a head before she leaves for the south. And his political sincerity--that he genuinely comes to believe that these people deserve liberation from all colonial forces and his only role should be to help where he can--is what makes the tragedy work. Because in the end we know he will betray all these values and become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be.

There's another layer of meaning to all this that I don't know if the filmmakers were even aware of. ETA: rescinding my doubt cause based on some of Villeneuve's other projects I'm pretty sure he could work it out. Given the time period (1960s) and Herbert's propensity for using Arabic or Arabic-inspired words for aspects of Fremen culture, it seems very likely that the made-up word fedaykin was taken from fedayeen, a real Arabic word that was frequently used untranslated in American news media at the time, usually to refer to Palestinian armed resistance groups.

Fedayeen is usually translated into English as fighter, guerrilla, militant or something similar. The translation of fedaykin that Herbert provides in Dune is "death commando"...which is a whole bucket of yikes in my opinion, but it's not entirely absurd if we're assuming that this fake word and the real word fedayeen function in the same way. A more literal translation of fedayeen is "self-sacrificer," as in willing, intentional self-sacrifice for a political cause, up to and including sacrificing your life.

If you apply this logic to Dune, it means that Villeneuve has actually shifted the meaning of this word in-universe, from fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for Paul to fighters who are willing to sacrifice themselves for their people. And the fedaykin are no longer a group created for Paul but a group that Paul counts himself as part of, one member among equals. Which is just WILDLY different from what's in the book. And so much better in my opinion.

#dune #dune part two #adaptation #paul atreides #fedaykin

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queers-gambit · 2 months ago

Text

The Strength in Honor [ part 1 of 3 ]

prompt: ( requested ) embarking on a marital affair with your older sister's husband. strength to those with honor.

pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader

fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist

word count: 7.3k+

note: welcome back, my Roman Empire; my OG muse -> second note: author's only seen both movies once so AU timeline 'cause wonky brain is wonky

warnings: spoilers! AU timeline, kinda reader insert? flashbacks, reader knew Maximus, Aurelius reader, essentially nicknamed reader, cheating, sneaking around on your sister / family angst, depiction of secret abortions, romance, smut, NSFW, is this "feral" idfk, cursing, some implied age gap, height difference, use of Y/N, set up for a dramatic part two that will not be necessary to read, author interchanges Muse's names on purpose, drama, talk of impregnating reader, relationship angst, established relationship, very brief depiction of injury / blood / medical phenomenon (tending to Lucius' cut, putting in a stitch).

part two: read here part three: read here

Year 180 AD

Blood of Germanic natives still stained under his nails, armor latched tight, sheen of sweat cooling on his brow as the heat of the fire's flames he stared into licked his knees. There was confusion marring his thoughts, brows knit towards his newly broken nose that ringed his nostrils with dried bloody flakes. Marcus Acacius was faced with an impossible decision and prayed the flames before him would reveal any truth.

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder, startling the young soldier. "At ease," a deep, baritone voice rumbled in amusement; General Maximus Decimus Meridius shuffling around his comrade a moment to take a seat on the fallen tree trunk a foot or so from Marcus.

"General," Marcus greeted.

"It's late, soldier."

Maximus watched Marcus glance up to the night sky, blinking thrice before nodding with overturned, pursed lips noting, "So it would seem." His gaze returned to the flames, wondering, "Does sleep elude you, too, General?"

"Well enough," Maximus confirmed. "Though I am oft haunted by the events on the battlefield. You've a different look about you tonight."

"Am I that transparent?"

Maximus snorted, admitting, "No. In truth, I overheard what the Emperor offered you. What an honor, my friend."

Marcus nodded absently, agreeing almost inaudibly, "An honor..."

"Do I detect a hint of distain?"

Marcus looked up sharply, "Of course not, General, I did not intend to sound - "

"Be at ease, Marcus, my friend," Maximus chuckled, "we are alone here, you may speak freely. Come, tell me why I had to scour the camp to locate you. Why does the proposal to the daughter of the Emperor send you into isolation?"

Marcus sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees; the flames silent in their wisdom, only spewing muted whispers of ash. "I love her," the accented soldier spoke quietly, sharing his secret with the fire.

Maximus sighed, "Lucilla is a woman of great beauty - "

"With respect, General," Marcus interrupted, turning to look at Maximus with near glassy eyes, "but while Lucilla is, indeed, beautiful; I fell in love with Venus."

Now, General Maximus smiled brightly, genuinely, softly identifying your name, musing, "The People's Princess."

Marcus chuckled, "Mine own Morning and Evening Star."

"One helluva woman."

"I'll say - she kneed me upon our first meeting," Marcus grimaced, hand to his crotch in phantom pain.

"Ah," Maximus laughed boisterously, "sounds like her. A true gem of a lady, rivaled by none."

"The fact that she even looked at me again after that..." Marcus had a far off look, one Maximus recognized well as one he adorned during his own affair with Lucilla. "Let alone that she... She loves me, too, Maximus. I know she's young, but what a feat to have her love. Yet, now..."

"Yet now the Emperor would have you marry his widowed Lucilla instead," Maximus finished, recalling the conversation he heard. "He needs an answer by morning, when you are to ship off once more to bring together his idea of Rome. The timing is... Less than ideal, I'll admit."

"How can I tell the Emperor no?" The soldier begged his General, almost startling him. "Maximus, please, you say you are my friend - please - how can I say no to marrying the Emperor's widowed daughter, and in the same breath, ask to marry his youngest? The very embodiment of Venus herself - whom all men and women covet?"

Maximus sighed and reached out to grab the solider's shoulder, giving a small rustle while asking, "Well, what did you tell the Emperor?"

"That he honors me with such an offer."

"And are you a man of honor, Marcus Acacius?"

"I endeavor to be."

Maximus sighed deeply, giving his man's shoulder a harder, more meaningful shake, "Then honor our Emperor - honor Rome - and accept his proposal. Lucilla's boy will need a father."

With one last smack, Maximus dropped his hand from Marcus just as the wood burning into embers crackled and hissed as if to input its opinion. Neither man listened.

"How am I to tell Y/N?" Marcus asked desperately. "The woman who loves me when I am nobody, with nothing? Who supported all I've done or wanted to do? It'll break her heart."

Maximus snorted in amusement, shocking Marcus, quickly assuring, "Ah. Do not underestimate her, she knows best what is expected of each of us, what our duties must be and where loyalties lie. Worry not, she will understand - better than any, of that, I can promise."

"How can you be so certain?"

"Because she once told me..." The two leaned in, Maximus gripping Marcus by the back of the neck to intimately hush, "There is Strength in Honor. And I know no stronger woman than she. Minerva in Venus' body, eh?"

16 years later Year 196 AD

You were draped in sheer white fabric, latched by shining belts and broaches of glimmering gold to match the gem-crusted jewelry dangling from your neck, wrists, and earrings. Different sized rings sat on freshly manicured fingers, moisturized in the finest of oils, a delicately crafted circlet of ivy crowned hair coiled in ringlets.

You waited in the ranks of other persons of high society ready to greet the procession of officers returning from their gruesome efforts abroad. Despite your position in society, you were - unfortunately - still a woman and women were never listened to; so, you leaned into your peer-appointed high-societal ranking and did your best to influence the Senators of the Republic. It wasn't exactly hard, being the People's Venus, the People's Princess, the People's Empress, the Should-Be Empress, or even the Never Empress - a nickname you weren't so fond of. You were the voice of the people and most had enough sense to tolerate you, else risk the wrath of the whole of the city in riots.

Twin Emperors Geta and Caracalla knew to keep you close, a symbol of peace and prosperity to the people; a puppet on strings, free for them to do or command as they pleased with no complaint from you since your only safety net, your father, Marcus Aurelius, has long since passed. Yet, despite their vivaciously open sexual appetite, the Twins never dared touch or disrespect you by soiling your innocence - hence the symbolic white drapes you wore, being unmarried. Little did anyone know, with the incineration of your safety net from your father's death, anew shall be woven.

When the heroes of Rome returned, you were called upon to greet the soldiers - and their officers, including the General. Floral petals snowed from the sky, and from your elevated position, watched as the love of your life was charted through the city on a chariot - wearing pristine matching white.

He waved to the crowds, honored by the hearty reception thrown to celebrate both his return and victory. You were merely relieved at the sight of him - whole, no visible wounds, and most importantly, alive. You were part of the welcoming party, a face people expected to see as despite not being married to either Emperor, they considered you their Empress. Something your older sister, Lucilla, did not particularly like - yet would never voice.

You waved from a private balcony, greeting the people cheering for their returning warriors. While a symbol of purity, white also symbolized victory - two sides of your coin, as cocky as that may sound. To the public, your innocence was still intact and yet, maintained secret hold of the man you loved. You slowly strolled along the banister, keeping par with the chariot hosting General Marcus Acacius, his eyes finding yours and holding for several long moments. You rounded into the palace's courtyard, waiting in the wings and simply watching Marcus ascend the stairs to greet the Emperors and briefly detail his successful campaign abroad.

You watched from the crowd of Senators, eyeing the General subtly to suss out any smaller injury he might've sported; ignoring the fact that his wife, your sister, was absent. After he properly greeted Emperors Geta and Caracalla, and presented the trophies (or spoils) of war, he was dismissed with a fresh, weeping cut to his neck. You felt something stir in your gut, making sure to catch Marcus' eye again before smirking and slinking away to attend your royal appearances.

Due to your father's legendary influence, corrupted brother's demise, and sister's emotional distress, the people turned to you for guidance and wisdom; part of why Geta kept you so close, having an unhealthy attachment to you as Commodus once did Lucilla. He did not mind your abrupt departure, watching you exit the royal grounds with your usual set of guards to begin daily duties around the city.

As selfish as it sounds, this was how you kept your place in a kingdom no longer your own: by getting your hands dirty. To work alongside citizens; to carry your own weight and soil pretty white fabric to facilitate a deep love from the people. Your most popular implementation was the law that food from the palace shall be sent to orphanages first, then what was left to the less fortunate. Whereas the Senators viewed your charity as a sign of weakness, Geta only allowed it because of his unsettling obsession, but you cared little for their opinions as it meant the food was not a waste and you secured your safety amongst the citizens of Rome. They knew your face, could voice their woes, found a friend in you rather than a politician.

Princess of the People, indeed.

Knowing the upcoming Games would be the official celebration of Rome and today was to be used to update the politicians on their success, you ended the day by mixing and mingling with the other persons of influence before returning to the private, personal villa armed with men hand selected by the General himself. They bid you a good evening as you passed, swiping the shaw from your shoulders with a heavy sigh of fake playing nice with the Emperors and others.

Their craven ways rubbed you wrong after your brother, Commodus, wrongfully usurped your father's throne after his passing; leading to a broken bloodline you were unsure how to fix. Though you understood why, you tried not to judge your sister too harshly on her decision to send your nephew, Lucius, away. Though it was a struggle the longer you lingered in the company of the Twin Emperors.

"My lady," a voice greeted, startling you enough to gasp and stumble back into a spare table in the middle of the room you passed through; knocking over a golden bowl of fruit.

"Marcus!" You snapped, seeing him remove his cloak's hood from the doorway he'd entered from with a smirk. He neared you as you caught your breath, hand to your chest, demanding, "Why have you come? What're you - you - you cannot be here, Marcus!"

"'Cannot'?" He repeated, slowly stalking down the stone stairs. "I do not remember asking permission, Princess."

"Yet still, you are denied, General," you scoffed, glancing at the other (empty) known entrances. "You risk everything by coming here now. Why? Have you not had your fill of adrenaline?"

"I had to see you, there is nowhere else I am to be but here with you, my lady. Are you displeased with me?" Acacius questioned, stepping in front of you with his hands once clasped in front of him, lifting to grip your waist.

"Never," you breathed, petting down his armored chest, "but my sister will be expecting you - you should not be here. If anyone were to discover us, there's no excuse we could offer."

Marcus sighed deeply, "With respect, my star, Lucilla is not my priority. She did not bother to attend the ceremony, it isn't like she's wanton to see me." His forehead rested on yours, "But I could not bare another second without you - "

You silenced him by lifting onto your toes and searing a kiss to his lips; holding the back of his neck for balance. His calloused hands tightened on your ribs, groaning in relief when your lips spread and both tongues instantly began their slippery dance of dominance. Nails raked into the short curls at the base of his head, other hand drifting to hook around his shoulders.

Waiting for a natural lull, you pulled back, "I've missed you."

"I swear to you, no more than I've missed you," he hissed, hands dropping to trace the curve of your bottom only to grip both thighs and heave so you were pushed back onto the round table the fruit toppled from. He didn't have to, but still spread your legs to stand between them; mouths open, tongues licking into one another. "I came straight here - after Geta dismissed me," his lips latched to your neck, licking, biting, careful not to leave any visible marks, "I had to, I needed to see you. I cannot stand the distance that curates between us."

"As much as I want to take our time, Marcus, you know someone will come looking, my love," you cautioned, sliding closer to reach for his many belts and latches. He began to assist you.

"Being why I chose your guards as I did," he chuckled, both moving frantically to shed his armor. "They're discreet, they'll hold off whoever may come and give us enough warning, too."

"Even from your secret tunnels?" You teased, working now on your broaches and belts as he stripped bare.

"Even there," he assured, nudging your hands away to bunch together the skirts of your dress and bundle them around your waist. "Thank the Gods," he breathed when your bare cunt was exposed to the cool night air; fingernails raking down the outside of your thighs to caress either knee to spread you further.

"I love you, Marcus, but if you're not in me in the next 30 seconds, I swear to every God - "

His laugh was borderline cruel, taking his free cock in hand to pump himself to full life. "Let me see you," he demanded, settling your hips at the very edge of the table while you freed your chest from the confines of your dress. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, lathering his cockhead at the entrance of your progressively dampening cunt. Marcus' upper lip snarled as he took a moment to swipe himself from cunt to asshole, back, again, then notching and checking, "Good?"

"Please," you begged with a nod, yanking him by the shoulders so he pushed fully into you until sheathed like his sword deep within the enemy. Yet your wet warmth was no foe, but a succulent vixen that left his head spinning, heart hammering; totally addicted and coming back for more. Yet the way he instantly chose a feral rhythm to pound into you on a random table instead of the bed would've made any spectator think he was working out some kind of anger. Though hard to explain, you still felt every inch of his care, devotion, and love, but felt just as panicked to fuck him after his long trip away.

His movements left you absolutely speechless, repeatedly impaling you and feeling as if you were being fucked through the table; only able to hang on for dear life. "Oh, fuck the Gods," he panted, lips finding purchase along your collarbones, "needed this, needed this so fuckin' bad - just needed you. You feel heavenly, my love, shit, how're you this perfect?"

You could barely respond, "I have the perfect man to impress."

"Never need worry about that," he chuckled, coat of sweat layering both of your skin. "Fuckin' obsessed with you, my star, oh, fuck, just look at you," his one hand rose to curl around your neck, head instantly falling back to let your hair tickle down your spine. "My Venus, my perfect lady, my love," he grunted, guiding your torso back to rest on the face of the table so he could paw messily at your bouncing breasts.

"Mar-Marcus," you begged, writhing from the pleasure that now mounted after the subtle pain passed. Even after losing your virginity, going so long without your man's cock left you tighter than usual. And his vigorous speed and rhythm didn't help soothe the pain; but you didn't complain, part of you even enjoying that pinch, the stretch, the burn of him filling you. "Baby," you rushed, "fuck, you feel so good - don't stop."

"If I had it my way, this is how we'd live," he grit, humping into you with shorter strokes as his balls tightened with his mounting orgasm. "With me in you, in this tight, wet cunt, all the time. I'd never leave, never be apart from you," his mouth fell to your tit, biting harshly at the pebbled nipple before soothing his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "We'd go missing for days," he mumbled, lifting his mouth to your neck, "never to be seen, just lost in one another. I'll get us a country house," he promised over your lips, "give us remote, total privacy. Get away from this toxic city, be at peace, have free reign to fuck where we please. Everywhere, anywhere - ah, shit, love, I'm there - I'm there - fuck - "

"Please, please," you encouraged, nails digging into his biceps, "I need you to cum, Marcus, please, my love, cum in me, it's been too long - fuck, I need you to fill me."

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, "and watch you grow with our child in the countryside."

"Yes, please, please," you cried, toying with your own pleasure pearl to bring about your release. "All of it, Marcus, please, I need it - I need you - I need us - forever, please."

He reached to caress your cheek, the other planting your sweaty hips, "You'll never be without me. I love you - I've always loved you, for my life. All my life, it's always been you."

You moaned from the emotional intimacy, pressing harder on your clit as you reached your end in time for Marcus to find his own. With heavy grunts, he gave three direct, sharp thrusts as he milked himself for his worth in you. You were perfectly out of breath and fucked-out, holding him to you as he folded at the waist - still pulsing and twitching deep inside you - to recover from his simultaneous climax.

"Holy shit," you whispered, now lovingly scraping your nails over his scalp.

"Yeah," he chuckled against your sternum.

"Don't leave me for so long again, please."

"Not if I can help it," he mused, turning his head to kiss between your breasts slowly. When his eyes met yours, he asked softly, "All right, my love? Did I hurt you?"

"No, not at all," you assured. "I needed you just as bad." The air turned poignant as you sighed, "And now... You must go home to her."

Marcus paused before lifting from you, never pulling out. He looked at you for a long moment before gently collecting you into his chest, forcing you to sit upright. Pathetic tears of misplaced longing and sadness were brewing, something your lover could see. "I don't have to leave yet," he whispered, "for the Emperors are still hosting an affair in my honor. She will not expect me for hours more..." He pulled you off the table, making you gasp as his cock slipped out and your arms shot out to wrap around his shoulders. Your legs locked around his waist in an effort to keep your balance while calloused fingers dug into the soft, ample, plush flesh of your bottom. "And I am not finished with you yet, my star. It will be a long night for you, that, I will promise now."

You nodded, caressing his stubbled cheek; leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips as he moved for the privacy of your (usually shared) bedroom.

"Listen up, you mongrels," one of the guards, Augustus, shouted over the gaggle of gladiators, "all of you are expected to be on your best behavior! Because today - today, lads, we're being blessed with a visit from Venus!"

Those around Lucius chanted and hooted in what he understood as genuine excitement, piquing his curiosity with shifting and shining eyes. Surely, there was no real physical deity of the Roman Goddess of Love and Beauty - so who was this Venus creating such a stir? For a moment, he considered his Aunt - whom, as a child, he remembered being revered as Emperor Aurelius's Venus - but there was no way she was still alive, let alone in Rome. Right?

"You all know the rules!" Augustus grunted. "Mind yourselves and do not touch her! None of you," he glared pointedly over the crowd, zeroing in on Lucius, "may touch her."

"The hell's everyone on about?" Lucius asked when the courtyard dispersed to let the warriors begin their sparring and various trainings. "Venus?" He scoffed in disbelief, glancing at Ravi. "Seriously? What a cheap ploy."

"The People's Princess," the former gladiator-turned-healer informed, "the Should-Be Empress. Some whisper she's the Never Empress."

"That does little t'tell me anything," Lucius rolled his eyes in humor.

"She is Marcus Aurelius' youngest daughter," Ravi informed with a lowered voice, "rumored as our very own Helen of Troy. Our Venus of Rome, Y/N Aurelius. She's of the people, comes around once a week or so to tend to the wounded and such, and you will mind your manners."

"Hm," Lucius perked his brows, unimpressed by any Roman imperial. Even his own flesh and blood.

He noted when the doors opened, it was General Acacius himself escorting a women of such gorgeous stature, she belonged encased in marble. She wore drapes of varying blues, holding the General's arm tenderly as she earned her footing after dismounting her horse. Lucius watched as she spoke with kindness and animation to the guards of the Colosseum, surveying the group through kicked-up dirt.

Augustus pointed out the few gladiator's that had sustained larger injury - himself included.

Lucius noted the close, attentive, almost protective gaze the General kept on the Lady Aurelius as she worked through the crowded courtyard. Some gladiators needed no tending but still insisted she look at their cuts or bruises, her obviously just humoring them as it seemed they were all friendly enough. Then... Venus came upon Lucius and Ravi last.

"My friend," you greeted with your luscious locks pinned back off your neck and ears. The heat was rather unforgiving today.

"My Lady," Ravi shot to his feet, giving a small bow of his head as she caressed his elbow with a grin. "You look as beautiful as ever - blue's your color."

"You say that about every color I wear," you mused.

Ravi blushed, "It is truth each and every time, my Lady."

"Oh, you charmer. And who might this be?" You directed at the newest, unrecognizable fighter.

"A gladiator," Lucius answered stiffly, wiping his hands on a rag and avoiding your eyes.

"With a gorgeously festering cut," you noted, pointing to his bicep. "May I?" You offered, already moving around the benches to take a seat. Begrudgingly, Lucius agreed; sitting and offering his arm for you to examine with narrowed eyes and gentle fingers, humming knowingly. "I have a poultice that should soothe this infection, but it might need cleared and stitched first," you considered the wound, asking your friend, "have you seen this, Ravi?"

"I have, Lady, and tried treating it - but none have hands as gentle and healing as yours."

"You're too kind," you chuckled. "Though with so much carnage of late, I fear my talents in healing are wasted here."

"What would you know of carnage, my Lady?" Lucius spat. You looked up to hold his gaze for several long moments, a slow smirk pulling on one side of your lips as his eyes - there was something about this particular gladiator's eyes.

"I know my father, Marcus Aurelius, died for a vision of Rome that his loyal devotees endeavored to build," you informed, prodding at his wound with a thin needle, your own medical case open at your feet. "He was murdered, his throne usurped. I was there once upon a time, amongst the bodies. The carnage, death and destruction."

"Why would a Princess of Rome be one the frontlines?" Lucius scoffed, glancing at Ravi with a dramatic snarled lip. He wanted so badly to resist the Lady's charm - but even he had to admit, he was faltering.

"Experience is the best teacher, Gladiator, we all learn most successfully through exposure," you offered simply. "I was there, tending the wounded, harvesting our dead. I saw what war does to a nation, to the land and resources, but most of all, to its people; but I also understood my father's reasoning and necessity. Yet now?" You scoffed, eyes rolling at the man's bloodied bicep as you seemingly lost yourself in explanation, "Those that come after him have done nothing to bring his Empire together, nor deserve such triumph - or so they call it. I do not know of such victory when there's been too much life lost - and so unnecessarily, too. Father would be disgusted by the efforts our Republic has shown."

"Yet you parade with the very general responsible for such carnage you claim to disagree with," Lucius snarled softly, glaring at you threading the needle.

You hummed and threw a stitch in his open cut, "While easy to blame, General Marcus Acacius is a man of great honor and not the man your anger - which you cannot hide," you snickered, bumping Ravi's shoulder with yours, " - should be directed at." When Lucious scoffed and shook his head, ready to retort, you continued, "The General was a solider first and foremost, fought under the greatest gladiator these Games will ever know - the General Maximus Decimus Meridius, the Spaniard." You paused, noting the reaction from the warrior. "Ah. You know the name."

"He's... Honored under the Colosseum, yes," Lucius agreed, seemingly interested in your words suddenly.

"Well - " You had to pick at an angry-looking scab, instantly apologizing, "sorry - sorry - sorry," when it wept again. After using a clean piece of gauze to staunch the bleeding, you continued, "The General is a man of honor, Gladiator, as I said. He takes direction, he is a subject - just like the rest of us. It was not Marcus Acacius who decided the whole of Rome should be expanded - he only took his orders from the Emperors, and for his own life," you smeared the pomade to sculpted flesh, "had no choice but to set sail; to march, fight, invade, concur. There is a reason the people adore him; he is kind and just, fair, generous, accommodating and polite, politically moral - "

"You sound in-love," Lucius interrupted with a knowing grin, teasing you now as his defenses lowered slightly. He wondered if you remembered him; knowing you were younger than he is now when your father passed.

You wrapped his bicep with a simple bandage, "I would not have him become the ire of your anger, nor anyone's - not with our Emperors being as... Unstable," you hushed, tightening the knot of the gauze painfully tight, Lucius hissing through clenched teeth, "as they are."

"You speak dangerously, Lady, restrain yourself," Ravi checked around them for any droppers of eaves.

"I speak to two men who deserve the truth," you corrected. "The General did not wish to invade your home, Gladiator," you told Lucius, "but it was a command he could not refuse. If you wish for vengeance, perhaps direct that anger towards the true enemy of Rome: the greedy and craven who rule it."

"You speak of mutiny," Lucius realized with intrigue, leaning forward to his knees.

"I speak of justice. Tell me what was taken from you, Gladiator, and allow me to aid your division of a plan for your own justice," you bargained, "and in return, I ask only for you to see the truth of Acacius when the time comes."

"Your General sailed onto our shores," Lucius seethed, "to invade our lands and concur our people - unprompted and without reason beyond that of greed. And when my wife shot at him with an arrow, she was struck from our defense walls... I found her in the sea before your General took Roman prisoners of war. And here we now sit, Lady. Tell me - how can you rectify what's been done? How can you justify it to my face?"

"How can any of us? In truth, I cannot imagine the pain, the devastation. Though it means little, I'm sure, allow me to offer my condolences. I'm so sorry about your wife, her fate is unjust, unfair."

He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded, "Thank you. I... I appreciate that."

"I will not justify what Acacius has done during times of battle," you hushed carefully, "but I can direct you towards the true object of ire, those you should not trust. There is something brewing, my friends," you glanced at Ravi, "and we all must be ready. The people are stirring. There has been much done," you told Lucius, "by men greater than General Acacius, much that we cannot rectify. But that does not mean we cannot change the future, adjust course; do better moving forward. I am sorry about you wife, Gladiator, I am - I cannot make you believe that, but trust, I understand the pain of loving someone you cannot have anymore. Yet all I ask of you is to understand, as a gladiator, a solider, a warrior, the General is not who wronged you."

It was quiet as you finished cleaning around Lucius' arm; giving a casual glance around to note where each and every guard was.

The Gladiator questioned quietly to the ground, "Allow me to ask, if one were to... Consider revolting... How might one go about gathering the men and strength?"

You only shrugged and checked his forearms to prolong the ruse of treatment, "I hear rumor there are some 2,000 strong and loyal men to Acacius just outside the city, but rumors are just rumor." You held his icy blue eyes for a long moment, then went back to feigning work as he held no other notable injuries. "Listen, should you still continue this anger with the General, I understand, Gladiator, but allow me to assure, that energy is simply misplaced. You seek the wrong enemy, the wrong death to avenge your wife, because it is not Marcus Acacius, who is only a loyal soldier - yet still slave to the Emperors, as we all are in some degree."

Before anyone could answer, a cart was being lead into the courtyard by a procession of guards. You handed a small jar to Ravi with a set of instructions and when the General approached the tented benches you sat upon, you accepted his helping hand and bid the pair a good day - and to the Gladiator, good luck in his future fights. His smirk broadened when you dropped him a personal, private, knowing wink. You were escorted towards your horses, Lucius leaning towards Ravi, "What's happening with the carts?"

"Venus does not let food go to waste," Ravi smirked. "Anything from the palace is dispersed through the city of the less fortunate. Today, it is our turn."

Lucius turned to face Ravi directly on the bench, questioning sharply, "Who is she? Truly?"

"I told you, as did she."

"What is this kindness she shows? What game does she play?"

Ravi smirked, "There is not a single citizen in Rome who is not self-serving, my friend. Rome was not built in a day, but should something ever happen to her, the entire city would burn in a night. She's our Should-Be Empress, and her kindness is genuine, there is no game. I've come to know her intimately through the years - she's truly her father's daughter. If you question her loyalties, know it is with Rome."

Lucius nodded slowly, watching in the distance as while all were distracted by the arrival of food, the General spoke intimately over Venus. Lucius noted she was who reached to caress his jaw briefly with a grin before turning for their horses. His hands looked all too natural on the Lady's waist as he helped hoist her into the saddle, different questions brewing in the warrior's mind.

Days later, returning to the palace after visiting the gladiators again for more potent wounds after another round of the Games, your guards dismounted outside the stables as you leisurely strolled inside whilst still mounted. You nodded to the grooms and stablehands, leading your beast into his usual stall; spacious enough to turn him in a circle before dismounting. It was later in the day than you originally intended to return by, but it wasn't as if you were missing anything or had other engagements.

You just wanted to be home. In bed. Preferably with the man you loved, but you'd take a cask of wine at this point.

You tiredly untacked the bridle from your steed as hands seized your waist from behind, making you gasp and with the bridle in hand, swung your fist about as hard as you could. To your shock and horror, the intruder anticipated this and caught your wrist, musing, "Impressive reaction time, my lady."

"Acacius!"

"Sh," he hissed, backing you into the wooden stall's corner, "do you want to get us caught? We've not long - they're turning the horses in soon, but the guards are posted," he let his lips remain parted from his words to all but instantly push his tongue into your mouth. You could not restrain the moan he elicited from your lungs even if you tried, bridle dropping to the sawdust and hay so your hands could find purchase in his curls.

"We don't have time," you insisted when his hands grabbed at the flesh under your skirt.

"You underestimate me?"

"I would never, General," you whimpered when he used every muscles in his arms to lift you onto his waist; pressed back into the wall for balance. In assistance, while he was busy holding you up, you maneuvered the skirts of his tunic and usual armor to free his cock; finding him hot, hard, and heavy. "How're you this - "

"Thought of nothing but you all day, love," he grunted when he needed to readjust to better support you while taking hold of himself. "Don't think I can keep this up much longer, pet," Marcus panted into your mouth, swiping his cockhead up and down your slit to quickly ready you. He paused to pull back and spit in his hand, using that to smear around himself. "This sneaking around, the secrets, this affair. I love you, I want to be with you in every way; I don't think I can keep up with this ruse any more, my sweet."

"Acacius, you must."

"No, no, you don't understand," he heaved when he sunk inward, encasing himself in your gooey warmth, "I'm at my wits end, my lady. You are all I know, all I think of, I cannot be without you." His teeth bared as he humped into you wildly, bodies banging into the stall; making you reach out to hold onto the wall as the other slapped around his shoulders. Your nails dug deep into the layers of flesh.

"You're," you moaned and gasped in his ear, feeling his skin slick with sweat already, "you're - you're married - "

"That can change."

"To my sister, no less!"

"Matters little to me," he grit against your neck, "because I've loved you for my life and I am sick of not hosting you in my life as appropriate; to not have you as I need, as I must."

"To marry me?" You asked desperately, bringing your arm back in to caress his cheek and keep his face over yours; lips barely grazing together. Knowing he was turned on by emotional intimacy just as much, you continued, "To make me your lady? Love me loudly, in front of them all? All of Rome? Have a baby, perhaps?"

"Yes, yes, exactly that - marry you and watch my seed stick," he snarled into your flesh, humping harder, faster, like a stud horse during the season. "Bet you're gorgeous swollen with child, tits filled with milk - "

"Only when you marry me," you bargained, the sounds of his balls clapping the apex of your cunt a strange comfort to listen to. You didn't even think of the guards. "When my sister is taken care of," your voice lowered as you focused on your orgasms, "given a life of peace. I would not have her outcast as a divorcée."

"I'll see it done on my honor, she'll be taken care of," he promised, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips, "and then, it's just us, my love, it's us - it'll only be us. As it was always meant to be."

"Only us," you moaned, tears slowly gathering in your eyes. You knew he was too honorable to actually divorce your sister and desecrate your father's dying wish; you knew this was as good as you'd have him. Your heart broke as it did 16 years ago whilst accepting Acacius' orgasm.

Two days later, you were laid in bed, bare to the world, gazing at Acacius as he slumbered in momentary peace. Guilt wracked your entire being, never wanting to hurt your sister, but after having everything stolen or stripped from you, there was no true shame in loving the man beneath you.

Or so you told yourself.

"I can feel you staring again."

With a chuckle, you watched Acacius open his eyes and tilt his head downward. "You're just so handsome, I can't look away," you whispered. "And we don't often get hours like this, I want to relish in this sight."

He hummed, "A fault I shall amend. Do you know the time, my star?" Based on your saddened expression, he guessed, "Time to go, I suppose?"

"She'll get suspicious if you stay much longer."

"She pays me no heed," Acacius scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up; forcing you to roll off him in shock. "Our entire marriage - she doesn't so much as look at me, not the way she looked at Maximus. Not the way I look at you."

"I care little for how she looks at you, it's about the law, Acacius!"

"Spare me the law! She is committing far worse than me!" He snapped, making you recoil slightly; clutching the thin white sheet to your chest. When he noted your expression, Acacius sighed, "I'm sorry, my star, I should not have spoke in such a manner."

"It's not the manner in which you spoke," you watched him dress with your heart drowning in your chest, "but the meaning behind such words."

"I did not wish to tell you," he spoke to the tunic being adjusted, "but there have been... Suspicions."

"What sort?"

"Have you never wondered? In the years we've been married, she's never bore us a child?"

"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."

Acacius shook his head. "She used herbal remedies to rid herself of the implications of our coupling," he frowned, watching the information register. You got from your bed, wrapping the sheet around you as he sighed, "I did not want you to know for this reason, do not look at me like that - "

"As long as I've known you, you've wanted to be a father," you pointed out, "and now you tell me, my sister's been secretly, what, aborting - ?"

"Yes," he spoke seriously, "and to the Empire, that is a serious offense. Yet I spoke nothing of it, I never confronted her out of guilt. She had Maximus, I have you; it was only fair of me to keep quiet of my suspicions."

"There's no such thing as fair, Acacius!"

"Then we shall make it so. Your father - he made what he wanted, why can we not do the same?"

And so, at long last... You had been forced to the table. The time had come for "the talk". Much was discussed late into the night, seemingly forgetting about time restraints as the seriousness of your conversation took precedent.

At the center of it all, you had realized the Twins could no longer rule and a revolution needed to take place. Rome needed saved, you bore a responsibility to the Empire and her citizens first. You lead the idea, Acacius supporting you wholly as ideas came to mind almost rapidly - reminding him once of your father, and later, of Maximus in some ways.

After dressing, you walked the General to one of the many hidden entrances of your villa; unaware of a nearby maid lurking around a column, a newly non-vetted face in your home. A detail that slipped through the cracks and would lead to devastation. She listened as you promised, "I'll go tomorrow before we meet with the Senators, but I am sure the gladiators will fight with us."

"Let me go instead, the men know my face, they will take my order," Acacius tried once more.

"They know and trust me, too," you smirked. "Father outlawed the Games for a reason, I have strong suspicion they will fight with us. Rome will fight with us, she deserves better than what she's getting now, it's up to us to complete Father's vision."

"And the Senators?"

"We'll find out tomorrow." The maid gasped to herself and fled around the corner, rushing for a distant entrance. "I'll send word to them by morning. Acacius, you know we speak of overthrowing the Emperors, whom we are both sworn to serve... Are we sure? The people are behind us, but are we sure this is the best course of action?"

"There's little other choice. I fear it's this or we run away - abandon the Roman Empire to her devices under craven rulers who someone will surely overthrow eventually."

You nodded, tears gathering, "We're truly doing this?"

"We're truly doing this," he swore, taking either cheek in hand. "I'm divorcing your sister, we'll free the gladiators, lead my men into the city and take it back; turn the tide for Rome at long last."

"As Father intended..."

Marcus nodded, glancing down before pulling you forward into his chest, requesting hastily, "Don't drink the tea."

"My love, the tea is how we stay safe."

"The tea is what poisons my seed. I'll marry you by next week, there'll be no need by then - why not start now?"

You gulped, "Because if this revolution doesn't work, the tea might be ineffective in a few days."

"Good."

"Acacius," you scolded, "this is serious - "

"I'm well aware," he rushed, thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. "I know the gravity of my words, of what I ask you. Yet I will still request you do not drink the tea - though, I cannot tell you what to do with your own body."

You were quiet, leaning into his embrace until your foreheads met and his hands dropped to hold you by the hips. "I am not my sister, I will not make a decision such as this by myself, for myself. I won't drink the tea tonight, but I will have a decision about it by tomorrow."

"Of course," he whispered, "fair is fair, my star."

Your nose nuzzled up his, agreeing, "Fair is fair."

"Tomorrow then."

You froze, shaking your head for a moment, "Now that it's time, I don't think I can let you go."

"So continues our nearly 20-year dilemma," he groaned, pulling you in for an embrace; pressing his face into your neck, one arm tight around your waist as the other gripped the back of your head. Quietly, he swore, "Soon, this will all be over, my love. We will all be at peace, able to honor what we've earned."

You whispered, "There will be Strength in our Honor."

"It's strength and honor, love," he snickered.

"Not my version."

[ part two: read here ]

[ part three: read here ]

requesting rules and masterlist

-> no Gladiator II masterlist

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