#yes its to illustrate the kick to the audience | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

huayno · 3 years ago

Photo

from neon genesis evangelion, vol. 12

The Mysterious Stranger

The Anime, the Manga, and the Mark Twain Novella

"God will provide for this kitten." "What makes you think so?" Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. "Because I know it!" she said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it." "But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

There is a short novel by Mark Twain, written near the end of his life and published posthumously, entitled The Mysterious Stranger. The tale is set in a small village in 16th century Austria, where three boys one day meet a young man different from themselves: "he had new and good clothes on, and was handsome and had a winning face and a pleasant voice, and was easy and graceful and unembarrassed, not slouchy and awkward and diffident, like other boys."

The mysterious stranger starts to do small but amazing tricks for them—causing water to turn to ice; conjuring grapes and bread out of air; even making birds that can fly out of clay. At last one boy, the story's narrator, works up the courage to ask the stranger who he is:

"'An angel,' he said, quite simply, and set another bird free and clapped his hands and made it flyaway."

The angel then proceeds to really impress them by making an entire toy castle, complete with five hundred miniature soldiers and workmen that move around by themselves. Naturally the boys get involved with this ultimate playset, making their own knights and cannon and cavalry, and although they get rather nervous again when the angel reveals his name is Satan, he assures them he is not that Satan, but only named after the fallen one.

"We others are still ignorant of sin; we are not able to commit it; we are without blemish, and we shall abide in that estate always." Distracted by two of the miniature workmen, "Satan reached out his hand and crushed the life out of them with his fingers... and went on talking where he had left off: 'We cannot do wrong; neither have we any disposition to do it, for we do not know what it is." Horrified as the other boys are, "he made us drunk with the joy of being with him and of looking into the heaven of his eyes, and of feeling the ecstasy that thrilled along our veins from the touch of his hand.'"

Yes, Kaworu Nagisa made quite an impression on the fans of Neon Genesis Evange/ion, despite the fact that, in the original broadcast version of the TV show (before it got all director's-cutted, box-setted, special-editioned, and platinum-lined) he shows up for only slightly less than thirteen minutes of total screen time, the climax of which being an entire minute where nothing happens at all.

That's what being a beautiful angel will do for you, especially when you make the most of your thirteen minutes on Earth by having a Whirlwind romance with the main character that ends in a lover's quarrel with Prog Knives and finally a voluntary martyrdom at the hand of your boy here. Relationships don't come any more tragic than that of Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, and when fans (including this one) first saw it on TV, the affair was so brief and shocking the story logic of it didn't click in until much later.

In the anime, Kaworu is acknowledged as the Final Messenger, and, of all the Angels Shinji has to fight, this is the most ruthless battle, won at the highest possible cost to himself. It took even longer for me to realize that the showdown in episode 24 had also taken us full circle from Shinji's first fight in episodes 1 and 2, which emphasized his personal helplessness against the looming Angel Sachiel. Against Kaworu, it is the Angel who becomes the small, helpless figure, while Shinji is represented only by the gargantuan, frightful helm and arm of his Eva Unit-O1. We never see Shinji's human face once throughout the whole final minute of decision.

So as Col. Trautman would have said instead of Major Katsuragi, "It's over, Shinji! IT'S OVER!" Kaworu v. Shinji (or Kaworu x Shinji, in the doujinshi) was the big final showdown between humanity and the Angels. And with the outcome leaving Shinji at his most wretched ever, wouldn't it be nice if everyone just died—your wish being Eva's command, as it turns out that fortunately humanity hardly ever needed the Angels to slaughter itself.

"I am perishing already—I am failing—I am passing away. In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever...But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

Satan's words near the end of Mark Twain's story also uncannily prefigure the end of the world and the Instrumentality project, both of which follow his death in the TV show in such quick order you picture Anno as a hairnetted fry cook dinging the counter bell. By now you see Sadamoto's handling of Kaworu, and perhaps nothing illustrates the different experiences of the manga and the anime better than his handling of this critical character.

No longer the last Angel to be fought, Kaworu actually becomes an active Eva pilot and fights an Angel—the dude even has the nerve to observe the fight is fixed, based on his knowledge of SEELE's prophecies. Sadamoto of course introduces him at an earlier point in the narrative—at the equivalent of episode 19's end—and then sends him to NERV near the equivalent of episode 22's beginning—before certain important events, to put it mildly, can occur. When one notes this kind of thing, of course, it's important to restate that the Evangelion manga has always been a separate but equal "official" version of Eva, with no particular obligation to align itself with the anime, and indeed it was with Book Five, the first released after The End of Evangelion, that Sadamoto began to truly seem free to go in his own direction.

Nevertheless, as the "other" official version of the Eva story, it is reasonable for fans to view it as an "alternate history" relative to the anime, and the way Kaworu has been introduced makes us realize the manga may end very differently indeed. Despite the fact we know here that Kaworu is an Angel from the very beginning, he appears destined to at least hang around long enough to pick up a few paychecks. It's not clear when your health benefits kick in at NERV, although if Ritsuko is your primary caregiver it might be best to forego them.

Sadamoto's remarks upon visiting the U.S. in 2003 indicated that the Eva manga might (might) be planned as a twelve-volume series in all. There is still plenty of room for speculation, as the slow working pace to which the artist himself often refers has of late become almost relativistic—as of this writing, it has been eight months since Sadamoto has drawn a new installment of Eva in Japan, and hence a Volume Ten is nowhere in sight. It may be small comfort, but those of you reading this are pretty much in the same drifting boat as the Japanese fans.

"An angel's love is sublime, adorable, divine, beyond the imagination of man—infinitely beyond it! But it is limited to his own august order. If it fell upon one of your race for only an instant, it would consume its object to ashes. No, we cannot love men but we can be harmlessly indifferent to them; we can also like them, sometimes."

—from The Mysterious Stranger

And with Book Nine we see the most staggering difference thus far between the manga and the anime; Sadamoto's Shinji doesn't even like Kaworu, much less love him. Of course, you could say the less-ethereal Kaworu of the manga is harder to love. I can't believe Sadamoto had him tell Rei he thought she'd be "heftier." And yet he did.

I don't think any A.T. Fields actually got penetrated in the anime; while I do think Shinji felt sexually attracted to Kaworu, and that you the audience are supposed to feel that he felt it, what Kaworu himself thought was a very different matter. Like Rei, I believe Kaworu to be innocent—coyly, he appears not to be so, because while Rei needed to be reached out to, Kaworu has come to reach out; whereas Rei has spent her existence being observed; Kaworu has come to observe.

Indeed, in the manga, Shinji's irritation about Kaworu's invasion of his personal space seems almost a parody of his attitude in the anime. In the TV show, when Kaworu put his hand on Shinji's, he flinched but did not pull away; whereas in the manga it's easy to imagine Shinji slugging him. Instead he goes to run after Rei, hoping to get closer to her again.

I hardly think the change reflects any phobia on Sadamoto's part (after all, we even get to see Shinji's "Unit One" in the manga), but the fact the manga Shinji is less emotionally bleak and empty, and hence less vulnerable. Shinji's just as negative in the manga, of course, but it's an active variety, rather than the passive negative creep (in the best Nirvana song sense) we know from the anime. We don't have to imagine him slugging Gendo; from the look of surprise on Dad's face in Book Seven he would have smacked the beard off his face if Kaji hadn't stopped him.

Neither is Shinji in a positive emotional situation where we leave him here, either; indeed at this point in the manga there's arguably no one he can turn to—the more brutal fate that befell Toji has cut him off from his school friends, Rei has become hesitant, Kaji is dead, and his perennial self-esteem booster Asuka is going to need to rebuild her internal supply before she can even get back to calling him a loser and idiot.

So, like Misato trying to put her own hand on Shinji's, all I can do for now while we wait for Sadamoto-sensei is to recommend for your winter vacation reading list The Mysterious Stranger, which I can almost guarantee will give you new angles to think about Kaworu, and may even earn you class credit besides. A quick look at the novel's comments on Amazon list a teacher who says fundamentalist students walked out of his class when he taught it; another compares it to The Matrix; those who dislike it call it "sick," "bitter," and "twisted." Sounds like good old Evangelion to me!

—Carl Gustav Horn

[a drawing of Kaworu holding a kitten]

Although The Mysterious Stranger can also be found in a number of print editions, including The Portable Mark Twain from Penguin (haw haw), the story, being from the days when mp3s came on shellacked cylinders, is legally available online at http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TwaMyst.html. The same site has a book called The Holy Bible, King James Version, which fans of Evangelion might also enjoy, although it's technically "Editor's Choice."

#eva #kaworu nagisa #idec if twain didn't write that shit #i'm all over this

32 notes · View notes

soveryanon · 4 years ago

Text

Reviewing time for MAG179! TTwwwwwTT

- That was such a short statement! As far as Desolation goes, this one really reminded me of MAG107 for the fear of losing what and who’s precious to you (“What part of his life would he have to burn then? What thing he loved would he have to hurl into the flames? The apprehension is as familiar to him as the scent of burning hair. He knows what it means to wait, and see what he has lost.”), having to contribute to that loss, and the loss being always followed by another loss. I really like how it managed to develop its own implacable rhythm through the cycles of repetition becoming shorter and shorter: the succession of losses, the litany of “I got you”, “he had Colin’s back”/“Derek has his back”, “The first time”/“The second time”/“The third time”… stopping with Daisy’s irruption. It really felt like she was breaking an implacable series of routines – though by inflicting worse. I like how Derek and Colin’s relationship managed to indeed feel so deep, intricate and complicated in such a few lines – with the fact that Colin had helped Derek on so many occasions, including to ensure the disappearance of his father’s body (killed in self-defence while he was being abusive?), and… that gratefulness slowly becoming a burden dragging Derek down (taking Colin’s defence, taking the blame for him, losing more and more, sinking and being pushed even deeper by the “bored cop” – Daisy? – who just made things worse because they could). Their relationship being an anchor in both senses: the help to get out of a situation, and the thing pulling you down. It was already evoking Daisy and Basira’s partnership, already reminding us of Daisy’s crimes, and already indirectly coming for Basira’s throat.

It’s interesting that in this domain, Derek never seemed to have the certainty of the identity of the corpses or items he was incinerating? He worried about Tilly when seeing the toys, but it was not stated whether they were hers, and, in the same way, the corpse was never said to be Colin’s (“Derek doesn’t know the man who lies in the cart, lifeless eyes staring at him from a head split in two by a careless shovel-blow”) although it triggered the memories. Given how concrete Derek’s (life)story sounded before getting trapped in this domain (… which seems to be: the furnace of the junkyard where Colin worked, where the body of Derek’s father disappeared), down to his brush with the police, I wonder if these memories were fabricated by the Domain, or if some bits were genuine bits from his past life? We’ve seen some doubt flickering about whether or not Mehreen really had a family in the Vast domain (MAG174), it could be another case of the Fears creating memories to squeeze the most of their victims… but with Derek, we do have the certainty that he had encountered Daisy before the Change and that she had felt that he had “got away”, since she was hunting him…

(I also got hit by the realisation that… this might be the last Desolation statement/story we ever get in the series; 14-15 Fears means that statistically, each would get 2 to 3 statements per season. We might still get another Something related to the Desolation before the end of the show, about Agnes and/or Hill Top Road and/or the Web lighter and/or the fact that Web seems weak to Desolation and/or about the recurring motif of burning down the Archives… but this could have been the last one. It’s even likelier that we won’t get any more Flesh statement/domain after MAG178’s, and I had not realised when that one aired. It’s weird to think “this might be the last time we hear about x”, since the end of the series is approaching?)

- I’m still wondering about the “death” status:

(MAG177) BASIRA: She’s been killing. MARTIN: What? No – no, that can’t be right. I–I thought people weren’t even allowed to die any more. ARCHIVIST: Not permanently, but, uh… Ah.

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: “… Another victim. Another hunt. The pain and terror courses through him. Derek is still aware as she toys with him, pulls bits from his torso and chews them with a hundred sharpened teeth. He is aware, though not, perhaps, alive.”

We’ve seen her butcher this corpse (and she had been awful with the previous ones, too) – are they meant to respawn? To remain stuck in this state, technically “aware” without being alive? (Though: “aware, though not, perhaps, alive” might be a definition which could apply to… everyone trapped in the domains.)

- Still that thing about the sounds, when Jon gives his statements! It’s naturally been growing stronger: he creates his own soundscape when giving a statement, illustrating the main’s victim surroundings… and that soundscape fades away as soon as Jon is done. Is that a new power developing…? Is it because of dream logic, an extension of his role as a sort of story-teller (he’s supposed to make his audience imagine the sounds, and yet the sounds come to illustrate what he’s saying)…? This one was especially curious because we heard Daisy, who was… currently tearing into a body nearby (but not in the same room as Jon), as if she was present.

- AHAHA.

(MAG179) BASIRA: She’s here, then? ARCHIVIST: [SURPRISED] Basira? I… I–I didn’t hear you, uh… BASIRA: No. I figured you wouldn’t when you were… busy.

It sure feels like something screaming “JON HAS A WEAKNESS, AND IT MIGHT BE USED AGAINST HIM SOON”, in the same way as Annabelle highlighting that Jon was now forced to read a statement until its end once he had begun was followed by Jonah using that trick for his ritual ;; We’ve already seen this at work, how Martin had trouble shaking Jon off from giving a statement, in Jude’s domain; since the episode ended with Jon and Martin going off on their own again… Big Fear that at some point, Jon will come back to his surroundings to discover that Martin is just… gone.

After MAG170 (Martin getting lost in the Lonely house), it looked like Jon and Martin were a bit more cautious about getting separated in domains: instead of leaving Jon completely alone, Martin had stayed quite close or right next to him in a few instances (MAG171, MAG176, and MAG172 although Martin ended up wandering off). In the last two episodes, Basira had initially stayed with Martin: was it an additional security for Jon? I wonder what they’ll go back to, starting next episode – if Martin will stay close, or if they’ll go back to Jon doing his thing in his corner.

- ;________; Basira and Jon’s bantering felt… so nice?

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: I thought you were keeping watch. BASIRA: I was. Watched you sneak away. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. BASIRA: You apologise too much. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Martin says the same thing…! BASIRA: [CHUCKLING] Like he’s any better!

They felt like they genuinely liked each other again, were able to share things, even with dry teasing? It didn’t feel like Basira was trying to insult him, but rather that they shared the same sense of humour, here and there…

Jon’s FONDNESS when he explained that Martin tells him the same thing still kills me. AND TO BE FAIR, yeah, this season, Jon and Martin have the tendency to spontaneously say “sorry” for various things… a lot. And sometimes, it’s genuine and important “sorry”, or them apologising for something unpleasant they’re doing! But both Jon and Martin do say it a lot. (And displayed it in this episode, even! Martin apologising over Jon’s leg when performing first aid, Jon once again telling Basira that he couldn’t do anything for Daisy, and that he was “sorry” over what had to happen…)

- I really felt like Jon… wanted to spare Basira a bit, by not forcing her to face what Daisy had done to this victim. Is it because Basira had already agreed to look in the previous two cases, and was now ready to kill her? Because Jon’s point had come across, and that he didn’t want to kick Basira while she was already down and there was no need anymore? He had been way harsher towards her in the previous episode:

(MAG177) MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her… BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

(MAG179) BASIRA: … Why didn’t you want me to hear this one? ARCHIVIST: What? BASIRA: You weren’t this cagey about the other ones, meaning you wanted to keep this one secret. ARCHIVIST: U–uhh… Hum… BASIRA: Because this one was Daisy’s victim? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. BASIRA: … Didn’t think you knew what the statement was going to be before it happened? ARCHIVIST: I just had a sense of it. BASIRA: So… what? You thought I’d hear he was a murderer and I’d agree with her? Maybe I’d figure she was doing the apocalypse a favour by taking him out? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what I thought. BASIRA: Sure. ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, alright! I was… I was worried that if you listened, it might feel like an accusation. A–after everything we’ve already talked about, I–I mean… What good would it do for you to hear? What’s in this one that you don’t already know? People have their reasons for doing wrong? The system hurts everyone? … Just seemed kind of… pointless. BASIRA: Yeah. I guess. ARCHIVIST: [SELF-DEPRECATIVE SCOFF] Honestly, I just wanted to avoid this conversation. […] So… You did hear it, then? BASIRA: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: What, uh… What did you think? Did it… help? BASIRA: With what? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know…! BASIRA: … Me neither.

* So Jon is able to get a sense of what the domain’s statement will be about, before he even starts? Previously, he had known that they were in “Wonderland House” before beginning his statement, but I had the impression he mostly knew what the domain was about – not about… specific victims. It reminds me of what Annabelle had said about him regarding the written statements (MAG147: “I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…?”), and how he had known about the overall subject of Floyd Matharu’s statement before hearing it. Martin only recently called what Jon has been doing in season 5 “make a statement”, and I really wonder if we’ll learn… what Jon is doing exactly, through those, when he overloads and needs to put the stories into words…

* Small things, here and there: in the previous episode, Basira had agreed to open up, had asked Jon for confirmations, had acknowledged that Jon knew the way towards Daisy and that she had to follow him. I like how nuanced it was, from Jon to want to hide this statement from Basira, that he didn’t want to feel like he was “accusing” her by insisting on things Basira had now understood? And how Basira still wants to know why he would do this – is it condescending, is it coming from a place of sympathy, from absolute awkwardness? (And there is something so fragile and precious in the fact that on the one hand, Jon might have wanted to protect Basira from this one; and on the other hand, Basira wanted to know why he would hide from her… but didn’t jump to his throat about it, and mostly wanted to know why?)

* Tiny progress on Jon’s part? Hearing him acknowledge that he didn’t really know his own reasons for wanting to hide this statement from Basira, and that not being treated like a big deal… seems like a tiny step, compared to his Web paranoia from season 4, when Jon was agonising over Beholding and The Web influencing his actions? Doing something and not knowing why, or rationalising afterwards, would usually be pinned on The Web, but it seems like Jon went back to treat it as something natural, that doesn’t need to be inspected further.

* I like how it really feels like Basira isn’t trying to flee anymore? Just… takes it all in, and accepts that Daisy had wronged someone else.

- Aouch, about the mention of the kidnappings ;_;

(MAG179) BASIRA: Should’ve been sneakier, then. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … Never been my strong suit, has it? BASIRA: How many times have you been kidnapped at this point? ARCHIVIST: That depends if you– … Hm. BASIRA: … Say it. ARCHIVIST: Depends if you count Daisy. [TENSION & BREATHING]

… Because Basira already knew the answer, and used to be much more callous and mean about it in front of Jon:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: Look, I’ve… been where you are. BASIRA: Have you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I have. Like you’re the only one responsible for everyone, the weight of all their lives on your shoulders: it leads to bad decisions. BASIRA: Yeah, well. When I get myself kidnapped three times in a row, maybe I’ll look to you for advice.

But this episode came after Jon explained how genuinely traumatising Daisy’s kidnapping had been… So it was a bittersweet example of light-hearted banter (Jon and Basira weren’t aggressive! They were joking with each other!) quickly turning sour, accidentally.

- Martin’s Life Is Hard And No One Understands:

(MAG179) [RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL, APPROACHING] MARTIN: [SLIGHTLY BREATHLESS] Hey-hey! Hey, she’s– she’s, she’s here! [PANTS] BASIRA: What, what? Now? MARTIN: Yeah–yeah, she just… she just tore into a guy, it was…! [SHAKEN] He was, oh, urgh… ARCHIVIST: Yes, we–we understand, Martin.

… Martin found ANOTHER corpse. Gertrude, Leitner, what’s-left-of-Jonah-though-not-technically-a-corpse-since-Martin-was-supposed-to-kill-him, Noah Thomson in MAG177, now this one… Martin, you corpse-magnet.

- Was it Derek’s, since Jon had just given the statement ending with Daisy tearing into him? Did Jon narrate it as it was happening? There is something very curious about the fact that Daisy could interact with both the domains’ victims and our little group – since she ended up injuring Jon, and was shot by Basira. We also got this with Trevor (who was “prey”, but still shot by Basira, who didn’t belong to that domain). Is it a characteristic of Hunters, able to go through the lines in the same way that they had the ability to kill avatars, before the Change? Martin did collide into people/projections last episode (and apologised for it), so it seems like they can interact with victims and not only avatars in the domains, and I wonder if Jon’s power might help them at some point…

- SOB that Daisy’s hunt was not solely about killing the people she labelled as “criminals who got away”. It was about desecrating them, making it as painful as possible (they’re “aware” of what is happening), and… consumption? (She had gotten thinner and had trouble eating towards the end of season 4, is that an echo of it, a way of trying to compensate…?)

- Second gigantic red flag of the episode:

(MAG179) BASIRA: You didn’t think this was worth mentioning!? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t notice, I was talking to you! BASIRA: Fine, whatever.

… The fact that Jon can get distracted and miss information about his surroundings when he’s focusing on something else. It’s extremely Elias-like (it’s how the Archives team had taken him down in season 3), and absolutely feels like something that could get used against Jon at some point…

- I missed Daisy so much, and the first time we hear her live again, she’s reintroduced through the sounds of her EATING THE CORPSE OF SOMEONE SHE JUST KILLED. Cries cries cries.

(Poor Martin: he was audibly upset by the carnage. Too close to Flesh? I remember how Jon had mentioned that he had trouble looking at pictures, in MAG072’s post-statement.)

- Martin’s small interruption made me wonder…

(MAG179) MARTIN: [SUDDEN GASP] [A WOODEN POLE FALLS OVER] [DAISY PAUSES, SNIFFS THE AIR, THEN RESUMES CONSUMPTION] BASIRA: [HUSHED, ANGRY] The hell was that!? MARTIN: Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! ARCHIVIST: What happened? MARTIN: I–I thought you were about to fire! BASIRA: So you gasped just in case? MARTIN: Look, it’s a tense situation alright? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m not a sniper! BASIRA: Goddamnit!

… if this wasn’t him trying to sabotage the operation because he didn’t want Daisy to die ;_; Though I can absolutely believe that he really just… gasped in advance, because he was too tense. (Also, I LIVE for Martin’s rants about how he’s not equipped to face this kind of stuff.)

… However, meanwhile, Jon was… definitely trying to delay the inevitable:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: [HUSHED] Is this a good enough angle? We can try and sneak round to the other side of the furnaces. But… then the smoke wouldn’t cover us– BASIRA: It’s fine. Shut up. I just need to focus. ARCHIVIST: … Alright. […] Basira, are you sure you’re up to this? It doesn’t need to be right now. W–we can always… back off, regroup, w–wait for a better situation, one where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse. BASIRA: Don’t do that. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. MARTIN: What am I missing here? BASIRA: He knows, as well as I do, that the only reason we’re even able to get this close is because she’s busy with a kill. There isn’t going to be a better opportunity. MARTIN: … Now or never then. BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

I didn’t feel like Jon thought that Basira wasn’t ready, or that the sight was too unsettling for him to bear… but more like it was Jon himself who wasn’t ready for Daisy to be killed, and didn’t want to admit it? While as for Basira, she clearly had progressed towards that resolution:

(MAG164) MARTIN: What’s Basira going to do? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted. MARTIN: And will she? ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes.

(MAG179) BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

(I’m also proud of Martin for immediately asking for clarifications when he was lacking information! … Well, wasn’t exactly the moment to ask, but it’s good that he pointed out, right away, that he was out of the loop. Audience surrogate in action.)

- I lovelovelove TMA’s ability to give tension and also deliver the silliest scenes, while saying so much about its characters:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Uh… BASIRA: Yeah, Jon. It is. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys, guys… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: Look. I know it’s hard, and you have your reasons– MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: –but it is not my fault that you can’t bring yourself– MARTIN: [EXASPERATED, HUSHED] Shut up! Both of you! BASIRA: What? MARTIN: She’s gone! ARCHIVIST: Wait, what? … Oh. Oh no…

* It’s being hammered in pretty heavily that Jon is not looking in Basira’s or Martin’s heads.

* OUFT, Basira was absolutely on edge and it showed: she went back to one of her regular accusations regarding Jon’s powers, dating from season 4… with the same unfairness. Back then, Jon wasn’t really able to control his bits of Knowing; it’s not that he has “decided” to respect people’s privacy nowadays, it’s just that he couldn’t really do that back then, and is doing his best to do it now that he can.

* … And it says so much about Basira that she immediately assumes that someone with power would casually abuse it… given her own relationship with Daisy, and what Daisy used to do, who she used to be.

* I live for Basira’s pet names:

(MAG140) BASIRA: By this point, I just assume the Eyeball tells you.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I told you, I know everything now, more or less. I can see her. With my, uh… BASIRA: … Magic horrorvision? ARCHIVIST: Sure.

(MAG179) BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it.

* IT REMINDED ME OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES!!!

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin! Stop trying to touch the plastic explosive! MARTIN: Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. MELANIE: Guys… ARCHIVIST: Just put your hands in your pockets, or… something… MARTIN: Look, I said, I said I’m sorry… MELANIE: Guys! ARCHIVIST & MARTIN: What?

Team Archive, a bunch of adorable idiots.

* It was suuuuuch a cliché scene and I loved it to pieces, with special *chef kiss* to the sound of Daisy’s meal stopping, and Martin’s hushed outburst <3

- Overall, I really love how the scene was… almost underwhelming? It was messy and awkward, it wasn’t heroic and grand, it wasn't an iconic showdown with a mythical creature. It was mundane, didn’t even feel supernatural? Just… a big dog having grabbed Jon and not letting him go, and how it was affecting characters – Jon being in pain, Martin in absolute anguish over Jon, Basira still trying, a few last times, to pull Daisy back to reason.

- Oh, Martin… the fact that his reflex was still to worry for Jon and Jon’s safety:

(MAG179) MARTIN: Let him go! BASIRA: Get out the way! ARCHIVIST: Take the shot! MARTIN: No, you’ll hit Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh, take the shot Basira! … Uh… [STRONGER GROWLS] Basira! Do it! MARTIN: Don’t!

… even though Jon is the least likely to get permanent damage from anything, and this was their only opportunity? Martin ;_;

- Crying a LOT all through it about… Basira’s attempts to bring Daisy back, although she had discussed the theory already (that Jon couldn’t do anything, that she would have to kill her, that Daisy was “happy” in her current state). But it was more difficult to apply in practice, and it’s heartbreaking that Basira couldn’t help but hope that a positive outcome was still possible:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Daisy, stop! Please. ARCHIVIST: [WHIMPER] [DAISY’S SPEECH IS LOW AND GUTTURAL, EXPRESSED WITH DIFFICULTY THROUGH A JAW UNFAMILIAR TO HUMAN WORDS – SOME CONSONANTS ELONGATED, SOME VOWELS SLURRED] DAISY: [AROUND A MOUTHFUL OF ARCHIVIST] … Basiraaa? BASIRA: Oh, god. Daisy… […] She knows who I am! She recognises me. MARTIN: B–Basira! BASIRA: Daisy, come back to us. You can come back. Please… […] Daisy, please… Jon, can you… Can you do anything? DAISY: Basiiira… ARCHIVIST: [BREATHLESS] I’m sorry, I told you, she’s… she’s too deep. I can’t do anything, not without killing her…! BASIRA: [PLEADINGLY] Daisy. It’s me. Come on, please…

And I HATE THAT I COULDN’T HELP BUT HOPE, TOO, GDI!!! Because Daisy was still listening (in a way) to what Basira was saying, since she released Jon, and since we had cases where it had been possible to bring someone back from the clutch of a Fear (Jon had managed to save Martin from The Lonely by making him “see” him, after all), so I couldn’t help but hope for something of the same kind… even though Daisy had been involved in The Hunt for almost her entire life, and had warned that returning to it would mean her end, and that Jon had explained in the previous episode that no, he couldn’t do anything to save her ;_;

- Crying about how even before Basira explained what Daisy was offering, there was a double-meaning in what she was saying:

(MAG179) DAISY: Basiraaa… C–come… Come on… BASIRA: … What? DAISY: Come. Got to… get them! […] DAISY: Partner. C–come. [STATIC RISES, FAINTLY] BASIRA: … Oh. I see. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: She… She wants me to join her. In the Hunt. MARTIN: What…? Could… Is that even possible? BASIRA: … Yes. I can… feel it. In the blood. ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Basira…

Was it “Come on” as in “fulfil your promise and kill me”, or “come to me / kill them with me”? AND IT WAS THE SECOND ONE, GODSDAMNIT!!

- Extremely curious about Basira’s static: was it a trace of Beholding allowing her to know? Was it the call of The Hunt? Did it only happen because of Daisy and Basira’s connection? Did it only happen because they were each other’s “anchor”, in a very twisted and bittersweet way (just like Colin&Derek in the statement, the thing stabilising and saving you… and the think that can also drag you down and under)?

I’m not surprised that Basira had the potential in her to answer the call of The Hunt (down to hearing the Blood): she behaved like a Hunter in season 4 especially, and was on Daisy’s trail for all of this season, after all. But I’m sobbing about how instead of saving Daisy, the other possible outcome would have been for Basira to fall into The Hunt’s clutch, too – that until the end, there was still this echo of Basira and Daisy being “partners”, being identified as such by everyone:

(MAG082) MARTIN: I… I’m making a statement. Isn’t that what you want? My statement? DAISY: No. I just need you to answer the question. MARTIN: Oh. Okay. I mean, y–you wanted a statement last time. About… it was… when I found Gertrude. Or at least your partner did. […] ELIAS: And then they don’t ask any questions, as long as you keep it far away from official police channels. Except your partner leaving has made you sloppy. No notes, no proper interrogations, no back-up of any sort.

(MAG088) MARTIN: Well, I’m sure your partner will find him; I just hope she’s not as– BASIRA: No, I need to find him now! You’re sure you don’t know where she is?

(MAG092) ELIAS: She’s quite the killer, your partner. All in the public good, of course.

(MAG112) BASIRA: How about you? DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it? […] DAISY: Fine. … Maybe you could ask Elias if you can join me on a case?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I think Basira is the same, she’s coming along to back-up Daisy, or so she says. I–I, I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone. […] BASIRA: But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave we blow it all to hell. Or, we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

(MAG142) DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

… but in the negative way. When it comes to Basira&Daisy as a relationship, there is something extremely sad in the fact that they never managed to have the willingness to improve and “be better” at the same time: Daisy did it in season 4, when Basira was too obsessed with trying to compensate for her powerlessness and refused to hold Daisy accountable for her past actions; and Basira did it, early in her police career when she first thought about quitting, and in season 5 when she finally acknowledged the damage she had caused or allowed to be caused, when it was too late for Daisy.

I wonder if Daisy, as a beast, wasn’t a concentration of her most toxic traits? We know that she was punishing people whom she identified (pre-Coffin) as criminals that had gotten away. Her last attempt to drag Basira with her in this Hunt really feels… like a last attempt to get back the relationship they had as colleagues and partners? She had mentioned that she missed working with Basira, in season 3 (to the point of considering asking Elias to allow them to work on a case together)…

- ;_; Goodbye, Daisy…

(MAG179) BASIRA: I can’t leave her like this, she’s… always had my back. Always. MARTIN: Basira, don’t, please… DAISY: Partner… Come… [MORE FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: … Not now. Not after everything. DAISY: [IMPATIENT] Basira, now! BASIRA: I… can’t…! DAISY: Basira! [GUNSHOT] [SNARLING] [TWO MORE GUNSHOTS] [DAISY COLLAPSES, DEAD] [THE DISTANT RUMBLE OF MACHINERY CONTINUES] [SILENCE BUT FOR BREATHS] MARTIN: … Basira, I– BASIRA: Shut up. MARTIN: … I’m sorry, I–I know– BASIRA: [DANGEROUSLY] Shut. Up.

* Same as with Daisy’s “Come on”, I got that doubt about whether was Basira’s “I can’t” meant “I can’t kill her”, or “I can’t join her in The Hunt”…

* Basira’s “she’s always had my back” HURT A LOT after Derek’s statement (“When the police came hassling them, he had Colin’s back. When some little dipshit didn’t show the proper respect, he had Colin’s back. When Colin needed someone by his side for a smash and grab, Derek had his back.”)… but it also demonstrated the difference, beautifully: the fact that Basira was now able to say Stop and No when it was going too far, the fact that she refused to keep being complicit.

* Basira rejecting The Hunt felt, to me, like Martin rejecting The Lonely in the house? They had the opportunity to take an “easier” path, less painful, allowing them to forget about the hurt they had suffered… and chose differently.

- Basira shot once, then twice.

So three shots in total.

Was it Alex’s audio revenge for the “Turns out Gertrude was too much of a badass to die from just a single gunshot” debacle. (=> Three bullets in total, but only one at first, and the other two happened, uh, at some point off-tape.)

- Martin exploding the Swear Budget and taking the lead this season if you don’t count per episode but per occurrences! /o/

(MAG179) BASIRA: I… Sure, just… let him go. [LOW SNARL FROM DAISY, THEN RELEASES THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [COLLAPSES WITH A GRUNT] MARTIN: Oh, Jon! Oh shit, shit–shit–shit! Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. [MARTIN BEGINS FIRST AID] ARCHIVIST: Ah, ah, ah…! MARTIN: I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry, you j–, you need to keep pressure on that leg while I, I sort this, hum…

(SOB ABOUT MARTIN’S “I got you”… also paralleling Colin&Derek (“I got you.” That’s what Colin had always said to him when they were kids. And he had always meant it. When Derek needed somewhere to stay when his dad was on the warpath: “I got you.” When Derek needed a little something to take the edge off: “I got you.” When the lifeless body of Derek’s father lay at the bottom of the stairs, limbs folded around the cricket bat he had hit him with: “I got you.”) On so many levels, it really feels like relationships can so easily become twisted and mutually toxic, or pushing people towards worse; the main difference we saw with Jon and Martin is that, meanwhile, they’ve actively communicated and tried to be better for each other, and navigate around principles, but it feels so easy to tip over the line…)

- Crying over Basira hours:

* It was a Desolation domain; the case that got her Sectioned (which stopped her from resigning when she had been thinking about it, and reinforced her ties with Daisy) had been a Desolation incident. (MAG043) Talking about loss, and Basira closing a chapter…

* … The event that directly led her to signing away her freedom to the Institute had been her saving Jon from Daisy (MAG091). When they reunited, out of anger, she said that she regretted having saved Jon back then (MAG177: “I should’ve known, I… I should’ve just let Daisy take you out at the start.”), and yet… she saved him from Daisy once again. This time by killing her.

- CRYING OVER JON HOURS:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me? MARTIN: Daisy? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye. MARTIN: Would it have made you feel any better about any of it? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about… anything these days. [SILENCE] MARTIN: We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose.

… I’m not so sure that she hadn’t recognised him. Amongst the three of them, it’s him that Daisy… so she might have been identifying him as “prey/criminal/monster who got away”… ;_;

I’m glad (AND SAD) that Jon acknowledged the fact that they had grown close in season 4, THAT THEY WERE “FRIENDS”, and heartbroken that he… is indeed hit by the lack of closure.

But what about Basira? True, Daisy “recognised” her, but it was… to try and drag her along into her monstrous life. As far as last words go, Basira did get a kind of goodbye, however:

(MAG158) DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…! BASIRA: Daisy…! DAISY: [GROWLING] Run!

Compared to Jon:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: What…? No! I– BASIRA: Don’t argue, just go. NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooo–oooon~? ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t die. DAISY: Go.

… Or even worse, Martin:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, all right, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE WRITING] DAISY: … Right. You got it.

I mean. Martin and Daisy only had One Good ConversationTM, but Martin. Martin, please. It was blatantly to protect Daisy from Peter, but your last words to her had basically been telling her to fork off.

- I feel like Martin might be trying to compartmentalise now but about to shatter soon, because… he had mentioned being happy at the prospect of “helping” their “friends” back in MAG175. I agree that in Daisy’s case, helping and leading Basira to fulfil her promise was the best they could hope for, but it’s still… absolutely grim. Since they left the cabin, they’ve not helped victims, not even children, they’ve discovered that Jon’s powers were incredibly powerful but also making him “worse”, they’ve helped Basira to kill Daisy and… that’s it. Jon had told Martin that there was no “better” in this world, and it’s hard to disagree, with how things are right now.

Is Martin still firmly believing that the Institute will be different, that they can do something to help? Or will he grow a bit more desperate? Susceptible to Annabelle’s call, or to try to contact her to accept her “help” because he feels like their options are dwindling…?

- Oh, about Jon getting patched up…

(MAG179) [A BAG IS UNZIPPED] MARTIN: Come on. I need to patch that leg up properly, the last thing we need is a limp slowing us down. ARCHIVIST: [GRUNTS AND GASPS] MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. ARCHIVIST: [DISTRACTED] Hmm? No, they’re, they’re fine. MARTIN: I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…! ARCHIVIST: [DRY CHUCKLE]

* ;_; Parallel to their first “heart-to-heart talk”, in MAG039: when Jon had been wormed, specifically in his leg, and Sasha and Martin took care of it…

* Martin remembers the not!tea from the trailer, uh. (He was also the only one to read a statement involving snakes-like spooky creatures!)

* … Martin, that’s a lot of thread-like things you’re carrying or mentioning this season:

(MAG162) MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG179) MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. […] I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…!

This is how Web!Martin can still w-

(Though, genuinely, I’m a bit… suspicious that Martin hadn’t mentioned them until now and had “forgotten” he had them, and that Jon was ~distracted~ when he was talking about them? Had Martin really packed them before they left the cabin, or is that something he packed later during the journey, without noticing, such as when he was in the Web domain…?)

- THIRD big red flag regarding Jon’s powers in the episode:

(MAG179) MARTIN: I, I was starting to think I’d never need them. I’m surprised she could hurt you at all…! ARCHIVIST: Yes, that… came as a bit of a shock to me as well, actually…! MARTIN: You didn’t know? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think to check, just, sort of… assumed it was safe. MARTIN: That’s a pretty big assumption, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Hmm, apparently. I mean, I know it sounds strange but it… it… felt right for Daisy to be able to hurt me. MARTIN: Dream logic again? ARCHIVIST: Mmm. The… “resonances” from our relationship before the Change carried over and– Ah! Ah…! MARTIN: Hold still.

… A clear limitation in his pseudo-omniscience/all-knowledge is that he can… still assume (incorrect) things. That’s pretty big, as far as his knowledge goes: this means he has to actively think about checking things before they happen. What more may have gone under his radar already…?

* I’m not sure specifically why Daisy was able to hurt him. Jon had explained that:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

Was it because she had hurt him so deeply in the forest, reviving that pain? Was it because they used to be friends, and Jon knew he was going to lose her, and only people Jon cares about can hurt him? Was it because of the mix of trauma&friendship, specific to her, that Daisy was bring with her?

* SOB over the fact that Daisy hurt him AGAIN… and had given him his Hunt mark in the forest… It wasn’t the first time they had interacted, but…

* Given the amount of things that run on dream-logic, and given how the Fears interact with their victims, it really feels like humans are both subjected to the Fears and shaping the world, themselves? I wonder if they’ll get some agency back through “feels right” logic, or if even that would get denied since, well, the Dread Powers work through pain and suffering, not… to help in anything.

* … Martin, please, was it accidental or did you squeeze hard because Jon was mentioning having an Important Relationship with someone else. (MARTIN BLEASE…)

- ;_; I’m not extremely surprised by Basira closing up and needing to do her mourning/to find her closure on her own… but it still breaks my heart so much, in the way she alternated between trying to be firm and dry, and pleading:

(MAG179) BASIRA: I’m… going to stay here. Burn the body. ARCHIVIST: Of course, we can wait. I still need to, uh… BASIRA: No. You go on. I’ll make my own way to London. [A BAG IS ZIPPED] MARTIN: … What? N–no, don’t be daft, it’s not a problem for us to wait while you deal with this! BASIRA: Please. Just go. MARTIN: … Wait… Seriously? ARCHIVIST: Basira, if you travel on your own, if you’re not with us, I… can’t guarantee your safety. BASIRA: Good. MARTIN: Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone. BASIRA: It’s just… something I have to do. … You said follow the tower, right? ARCHIVIST: Right. MARTIN: No, no, this is ridiculous, you could die! BASIRA: I’ll do my best not to. MARTIN: This isn’t a joke, Basira! ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– BASIRA: It’ll help me. All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. […] [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will. ARCHIVIST: [GENTLY] Come on. [FOOTSTEPS] [INHALE] For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it had to work out like this. BASIRA: … I’m not.

* Confirmation that Jon seems to have been protecting Martin and her from the domains’ influence so far, as long as they stayed close to him?

* “Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone.” => mix of “who’s talking.” and “MARTIN. HAS. LEARNED!” (It’s what he did all through season 4 ;w; He knows that from personal experience…)

* I’M HAVING FEELINGS over that tiny Martin-Basira soft moment… gosh… (I’m remembering how Basira had been very cautious and defensive of Martin when she had explained to Jon that Martin had had a bad time… because he had lost his mother, at the beginning of season 4, and how she had clearly seen that it had impacted him… She was often harsh towards him, but she wasn’t heartless…)

* So Panopstitute is now a shared goal AND the point where they will supposedly meet up.

* Overall: I want to believe that Basira will be okay on her own journey, aaaaaaaaaah ;_; Clearly in pain, but I want to hope that she’ll be fine on her own, and getting a bit better…

* Proud of Jon for explicitly asking Basira’s permission to watch/know about her ;_; Consent! (And he’s worried, too!)

* I wonder if Jon’s leg was truly healing, as he claimed, since we didn’t hear static that would suggest a supernatural healing speed? It is truly getting better, or is he hiding the pain and injury since they have to leave now? (… Given the overall dream logic, I would almost expect the injury to not heal as long as Jon doesn’t truly process Daisy’s death, but we’ll see.)

* Sob for how Basira&Jon joked about his apologising too much… and the episode ended with Jon apologising over what had happened.

- H… Hey… Daisy was officially an Archival Assistant since season 4, since she had signed the contract in order to get rid of the dreams… So the curse of “one Assistant dies every odd-numbered season” has already been fulfilled, right…? So there doesn’t need to be any more death in the team this season, right? So there won’t be another Assistant death ever, unless Jonny writes a season 7, RIGHT…?

- Goodbye Daisy ;_; You were amazing in season 4, I couldn’t help but still cross fingers that there was a sliver of hope to get you back once again, and I’m SAD for you (and for Basira), and I hope that you can finally “listen to the quiet” again ;___;

Time to relisten to season 4 and think about you making Jon listen to The Archers.

I’m TwwwwT super sad (in a good way) about Jon lamenting that he would have liked to be able to say his goodbyes to Daisy, and acknowledging that they had been close (“FRIENDS”!!!), kinda hoping that the page is not turned (and-then-we-never-talked-about-Daisy-ever-again) but that instead the loss will cling to them a bit and that there will be Sadness about it. It’s… still a death, it’s still a loss, it’s still something that hurt and stung! ;w;

- … I feel like there might have been some implication contained within the fact that they agreed to kill Daisy in the current circumstances…? Jon said that he couldn’t do anything for her anymore because she was “too deep” in; but they chose to do it now, meaning that… she couldn’t have got better when/if they manage to turn the world back and stop the apocalypse. So either they’ve slowly grown accustomed to thinking that the world can’t get better, either… Daisy wouldn’t have survived anyway if the world were to be “fixed” and freed from the clutch of the Fears. So what does that mean about Jon, who is absolutely deep into Beholding? What would happen to Jon, the Archivist, the Archive, if the world was to be saved? Could he survive a Change Back, or would he just disappear like the Fears?

(- For once, I’m actually a bit surprised at the title since… “Accomplice” worked for the statement, it worked for Basira&Daisy’s relationship as it used to be, but it wasn’t really applying to Basira anymore – this is precisely the episode where she definitely refused to go back to being an “accomplice”. “Partner(s)” had been the word characteristic of Daisy&Basira’s relationship and would have been the title I would have expected for this episode, given their dynamic.

… So instead, it makes me whimp out the red string, and consider that the “accomplice(s)” might not have been the obvious ones. Can’t help but *SQUINT* at Martin this episode, because:

* We know that Basira and Martin talked about something in MAG178 when Jon was giving his statement, and we don’t know the details of it.

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

(And in the same way: we don’t know for sure what happened to Martin when he ended up wandering off into The Web’s domain in MAG172. Did he tell Jon the whole story about it? Or did something happen that he managed to hide?)

* Last few episodes have been extremely insistent in reminding us that Jon is making active efforts to not look into Basira’s and Martin’s heads at all:

(MAG177) BASIRA: … What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head? MARTIN: Hm? Oh! Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away? BASIRA: And you trust him to do that. MARTIN: [DECISIVE] Yes. I do. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself.

(MAG179) BASIRA: I am. [BASIRA TAKES AIM AGAIN, HESITATES AGAIN] Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? […] BASIRA: All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. ARCHIVIST: So, you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes? BASIRA: If you must! But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched. ARCHIVIST: Understood.

* Martin was mostly fine about the concept of betraying the trust of someone you like and care for, as long as it’s in ~their best interest~:

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I don’t like betraying someone’s trust like this. MARTIN: It’s not a betrayal if you’re doing it to help. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m not so sure…! MARTIN: Look, if it was me in her shoes, I’m sure I’d forgive you. It��it’s for the best!

* Jon’s joke about “Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…!” (MAG167) when Martin asked him not to look inside his head… reminds me of the way the gang managed to convince Elias that it was in his best interest for Martin not to come along to the Unknowing, in MAG116: Martin’s offense and protests were staged in order to make it pass as innocuous that he would stay behind at the Institute; Jon asked for Martin to stay, but they needed Elias to feel like it was partly his own decision, hence Martin’s protests. Back then, we didn’t know that Elias had made a bet with Peter (so it’s unclear whether he was factoring in Jon potentially dying and his need for a back-up, or if it was mostly motivated by the fact that Martin had to stay alive in order to set up Jon’s Lonely mark), but the situation still is very reminiscent of the end of MAG179: character A makes a decision, Martin protests and tries to argue, until character B steps in to validate A and Martin has to agree with the others… about something that was A’s and his plan from the start. It’s basically Martin’s modus operandi, that he also used to make Elias focus in him in MAG118 (spilling his frustrations and pains) and to keep Peter’s attention on him during season 4 (genuinely wanting to stop The Extinction, being susceptible to The Lonely, but not wanting to serve Peter’s plans). Always mixing his genuine feelings in with some deception, to hide his endgame intentions.

… So what if, in the same way, Basira&Martin’s little opposition here had been staged because they needed Basira to be out of Jon’s radar for a while, and for Jon to feel like that was natural…?

(Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t believe that Martin is secretly evil or working against Jon; if Martin is currently plotting something, I really think it would because he needs Jon to not know about it (because of Jon’s status as the lynchpin of the apocalypse and The Eye’s favourite), and/or because it will require Martin to take risks and he knows that Jon would protest that. Overall, it’s surprising that, for now, Martin doesn’t explicitly have a plan – he’s been following Jon and seems to be focusing all his hopes on the Panopticon – while he used to be planning and scheming so easily before. So what if there was actually something currently in progress, in the blind spot of Jon’s vision and near-omniscience…?))

- Anyway, the points that Jon is not looking into Basira’s nor Martin’s heads, that he is distracted when talking with someone or giving a statement (… really reminiscent of Basira in season 3 explaining how Elias wasn’t able to focus on anyone and anything else when using his powers to traumatise Melanie, uh…), and that he can assume things that end up working out differently (so can think erroneously as long as he hasn’t thought to Know about it and asked the good questions to his pool of knowledge)… definitely feel like something about this is going to come back to bite them in the ass later. ;;

I have HIGH HOPES for EMOTIONAL PAIN with MAG180’s title! =D I’m thinking about grief and mourning – could be the occasion to get an episode a bit like MAG167, Jon “giving the statement” of people from before the Change? Maybe not even solely about Daisy, but about all the assistants&friends (Sasha, Tim, Gerry, Daisy) they have lost since signing up for the Archives? Or Jon and Martin thinking about the kind of internal/emotional/psychological journey they have to accomplish in order to reach the Panopticon, whether or not there is something preventing them from reaching it, in the same way that Basira had to face Daisy’s crimes and “see the monster” to be able to catch up to her?

If there is a domain: Vast and Buried could work in a very physical sense, End could fit too…

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag179 #tma season 5 #the magnus archives #tma liveblog #long post/#tma spoilers/

18 notes · View notes

caladhel-iarian · 4 years ago

Text

Some Things Never Change

The door nearly flew off its hinges as it sailed inward and bounced off the wall.

His face blank, he lifted his head and watched A’khore sweep into the room, a force of nature in a Miqo’te skin. One foot kicked the door shut behind her, oblivious to the crash that echoed down the hall outside. One hand dropped a sword larger than she was; it hit the floor with a loud clang that had her roommate hunching his shoulders as if they could protect his ears from her auditory violence. Her other hand shoved her staff in the direction of the wall, unconcerned with where or how it landed.

Why would she care about her staff, her sword, her bag of souvenirs and treats when she only had eyes for him?

Crossing their Pendants room as fast as she could manage without tripping herself, she flopped down in the armchair she’d dragged over to the balcony prior to her departure. Her grateful sigh sent her wild bangs airborne for a brief moment and she rested her elbow on one of the chair’s arms, propping her chin in her hand.

“I’m glad you’re here, Your Majesty,” she said, eyes sparkling like sapphires in sunlight despite the bags beneath them. He marveled at her energy when every line in her body screamed exhaustion and he cocked his head, arching a brow.

Instead of harassing him and stroking his head the same way she caressed a parrot, she ought to be crawling into bed and sleeping for the next three years. Fool she might be, but even fools deserved some rest and he--

“Have I got a story for you. Even the Emperor himself would listen if he were here. And he never listens... ah... listened to anyone.”

He froze, his eyes narrowed on the woman who offered him a lazy smile overshadowed by grief. Was she blind? Here he sat, right in front of her, and she mocked him! And had this idiot just misinterpreted his steady glare as an invitation to elaborate rather than the censure he meant it to be?

“Yes,” she responded before he could even gather his breath to chastise her and he blinked, head drawing back into his neck in his confusion.

Great. Now she was putting words in his mouth and answering questions he never voiced. He didn’t even want to consider the implications of--

“Yes,” A’khore repeated, furrowing her brow and dropping her voice. Her tone was pure absinthe as she pinched the bridge of her nose and attempted to mimic his usual irritation with her. The expression made her look vaguely constipated, he decided, unwilling to admit that she’d nailed his mannerisms and biting wit. “Please do tell me all about how you almost got yourself killed this time, Hero. I’m sure it is a fascinating tale.”

He gawked at her. When had she developed the ability to read minds? He knew the Echo gave her visions of people’s pasts and snippets of her own memories from previous lives, but did it also reveal others’ thoughts to her? The stupid creature took the words right out of his mouth. And if she could hear his thoughts, did that mean she heard him when she entered the room? Did she realize how much he had missed her? Had she heard him wondering about her well-being, fussing over her safe return, cursing himself for staying behind while she skipped off to save the world for the billionth time?

More importantly, did she recognize him, truly? Was she simply making fun of him?

Most importantly: was he too obvious in the way he edged closer to her, shuffling another inch in her direction each time he thought she wasn’t looking? Was he too obvious when he leaned into her caress?

Shit.

“Okay!” she chirped. “Willing” audience secured, her face lit up as though the sun rose and set across it and Emet-Selch stifled the urge to shield his eyes. Azem had ever been the brightest star in his sky and even Sundered, she still threatened to blind him.

“So there I was,” A’khore began and her hands molded the air, illustrating her words for him, “running up the steps of the Crystal Tower and there are so many steps, more steps than the mountain shrines in Othard if you can believe that. I was running up the steps with G’raha and Anka right behind me and... Oh. Wait. You don’t know what Othard is. Right. So Othard is a nation from my homeland and...”

The shoebill released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and ruffled his feathers, settling into his perch to listen to her tale with hooded eyes and a mingled sense of relief and despair so massive it damn near crushed him.

No, he thought, basking in the warmth of her soul. Still as oblivious as ever.

#character writing #my WoL #Emet-Selch #FFXIV #FF14 #Rat Grandpa

12 notes · View notes

skamenglishsubs · 5 years ago

Text

Subtext and Culture, Season 3, Episode 1

Culture: This season kicks off on October first. The new school year started in late August, and all the characters have moved up a year and are now second-year students. All the third-year students have graduated, and a horde of new first-year students have started high school, upsetting the balance and social hierarchy. A bit more than a month has passed since school started, which is enough time for new friendships to have formed, and for everyone to have formed an opinion on the new students. Magnus’ opinion, for example, is that every single first-year girl is fuckable...

Subtext: The dialogue-less montage at the start actually contains a funny little scene illustrating Vilde’s personality. A bunch of pretty, blonde, first-year girls have appeared at Eva’s party uninvited, and that threatens The System, because if they’re there and stealing all the cute guys, who will Vilde hook up with then? If you close your eyes you can just hear her ask Eva “What are they doing here?” Eva, meanwhile, doesn’t give a shit that her house party is spiraling out of control, she’s more interested in making sure that P-Chris stays focused on her, not the new arrivals. Subtext: The reason Isak picks Emma when pressed to name one girl he’s interested in, is because he’s betting that she will be completely uninterested in him. She’s good-looking, has had an older boyfriend, why would she care about Isak? He’s hoping that if the guys continue to press him on why he doesn’t have a girlfriend, he can pretend to only have eyes for Emma. Subtext: Mahdi says he doesn’t really know Isak, while Jonas protests, which gives us a couple of hints about how this boy squad got together. The most likely scenario is that Isak brought in Magnus, while Jonas brought in Mahdi, and the four of them have spent the first month of the school year bonding over smoking weed. Blink and you miss it: When Emma enters the bathroom, Isak looks really, really scared for a moment. Because she is the last person he actually wants to interact with, and now he has to pretend to be interested in her. Subtext: Emma knows that she looks like Natalie Portman, and both her and her friend have heard it over and over again from guys trying to pick her up, so she’s super tired of hearing it, and just wants to shut down yet another boring pick-up attempt from yet another boring guy. Cinematography: When Isak exits the hedge and starts walking left, the camera pans to follow him, but just like Isak is yanked backed by the police officer, so does the camera yank to the right, so that we the audience experience the same motion as Isak, and are as surprised as him.

Blink and you miss it: In case the sound of a blister pack opening when Isak pulled out his ‘drugs’ to give to Emma wasn’t a strong enough hint that he didn’t actually have any drugs other than weed, here we quickly see him pulling out the small packet of Ibuprofen that he used to impress Emma. Lost in translation: Kosegruppa is just completely untranslatable into English, and since none of the previously existing subtitles for this show translated it either, I just left it in as is. You can however translate it perfectly into either Swedish or Danish, in which case it would be either trivselgruppen or hyggegruppen. Yes, all three languages have a specific word for the same concept, and yes, each language has a completely different word for it. Great minds think alike! Blink and you miss it: Both Isak and Sana react to the shitty casual racism coming from the Biology teacher. Blink and you miss it: Following the brain-dead conversation the boy squad had about clitorises and girls with cat tongues earlier in the week, someone renamed their Messenger group chat to “The cat-hooker and his friends”.

Culture: The Revue™ continues being a thing year after year, and since a third of the students graduated, new people have to take their places and do all the work that needs to be done. It seems that one of the groups needed new leadership, and Vilde of course jumped at the opportunity in order to increase her social status. Unlike the external-facing groups like PR, stage, acting, or dance, kosegruppa is an internal group who acts as a kind of ground support for all the other groups, making sure everyone else has a good time. Blink and you miss it: When Vilde mentions that not everyone is good at spreading love, she stares at Sana. Culture: I explained how classes work in Norwegian high school back in the very first post in this series, so go back and refresh yourselves if you’ve forgotten. Given that, it’s easy to decode Even’s class, 3STB. He’s a third-year student, doing college prep, and he’s in the second class of third-year college prep students. Although we don’t know for sure, Isak is probably in 2STD at this point in time, same as Jonas and Eva. Blink and you miss it: If you watch all of the credits, they cut the end song just after its first word, which is “Threesome!”

#skam #subtext #isak valtersen #skam meta

139 notes · View notes

owenshire · 4 years ago

Text

Robert Muhlbock (virtually) Inducts Nine Inch Nails into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 2020

Nine Inch Nails. One band, and often one man, with a computer (and guitar) against the world. Oh yes, Nine Inch Nails have added members for live performances and gained members (well, a member) for studio compositions, but from this “band-like-musical-entity’s” earliest days, it was just one person—one person who combined pop-hooks with industrial whirs, and harrowing rage with uncomfortable vulnerability. And his name is Trent Reznor.

No one should claim that Nine Inch Nails invented a genre. They didn’t. But they sure as hell popularized and perfected it. Electronic, Industrial, ‘Disco Death Metal’—whatever you want to call it, the labels don’t really matter. In fact, I think the genre should just be called “sounds like Nine Inch Nails” which is compliment enough on its own, right?

Nine Inch Nails are one of the most important, vital, inspirational, talented, and unique of musical artists. I love them. And now I’m going to tell you why…in a lengthy video essay, so settle in. And if you don’t have the fandom or attention span for what I’m about to say, go back to consuming shitty tweets and dumbfuck Instagram posts because you’re not wanted here anyway.

_______________________________

My first introduction to NIN began like so many others: by catching the iconic video for “Head Like A Hole” on MTV—the band rocking out amidst electrical wires and magnetic tape, until it seemed like the entire writhing mess would consume them whole. It’s an image as potent today as it was some 30 years ago.

However, my real introduction to NIN was originally steeped in urban legend. I was in grade 10 and I heard Pretty Hate Machine played on my school bus on the way home. The owner of this cassette tape, a “cool girl” who shall remain nameless, told me that the album was “out of print” and “unavailable.” In short, she assured me that I would never be able to find a copy, but, guess what, I did.

In a trade with former MMA coach Shawn Tompkins—and in my grade 10 art class no less—I swapped two ninja stars for a box of his old cassette tapes, and Pretty Hate Machine was one of them. This was my own NINJA moment, if you will—does anyone get that reference—anyway, upon witnessing said trade some random guy in my art class immediately offered me $25 for the Pretty Hate Machine cassette tape—a king’s ransom in 1990—but of course I wouldn’t sell. I knew it was valuable—and in more than one way. Instead I played the hell out of the cassette in my Walkman. I was 14 years old. “Terrible Lie” was my favourite song from the album. And it still is.

And then—poof—like that, NIN dropped out of my life. Where’d they go? Well, I guess they were making a name for themselves during Lollapalooza 1991, white chalk dust and all. Not that I knew any of this. Pre-internet I had no idea what was going on. In fact, I wouldn’t hear any new NIN music until almost a full year later when one of my friends with a penchant for industrial music introduced me to the Broken EP. As he handed me his CD for borrowing, he warned me that it was “pretty extreme.” And he was right. The Broken EP is why album warning stickers were invented: it was a fist to the face, a kick to the face—it was even an ass to the face.

Anyway, the Broken EP was my real introduction to the seemingly bottomless rage of NIN. When I heard Broken I was just starting to get into so-called “heavy” music, but nothing could have prepared me for the lyrical and musical brutality of “Wish.” While Reznor’s litany of profanity was extreme��at least to my sheltered 16 year old ears—what truly staggered me was the song’s main riff (you know the one I mean) the one that is so distorted, so disturbing, that it sounds like a guitar being burned alive while flailing in a wind tunnel.

I’d never heard anything like it before—it wasn’t cock-rock; it wasn’t fake satanic rage done for laughs, theatre or to impress--no. Instead it was the audio embodiment of complete destruction and utter despair. And 30 years later, it’s lost none of its power.

__________________________________

These same sentiments must be applied to The Downward Spiral, Nine Inch Nail’s career defining work that launched the band into mainstream success. Too often discussions of the record get bogged down by emphasis on “Hurt” or “Closer,” or, to some extent, “Heresy.”

Yes, “Hurt” is the perfect album closer and expression of pleading vulnerability, and, yes, “Closer” and “Heresy’s” choruses were brutally raw and shocking in 1994 (and, it should be said, still above average shocking in 2020), but I feel the album is best presented as a whole. This was the beginning of NIN’s discovery that (to paraphrase one rock critic) just as much tension can be generated with a whisper as with a scream.

Dynamics have always been a huge part of NIN’s’ sound, and The Downward Spiral stands as a defining moment. The album, as all of you know, begins with “Mr. Self Destruct” (well, that’s not entirely true—the album actually begins with the audio of what appears to be a man being beaten to death while submerged underwater)—but anyway, “Mr. Self Destruct” was as sonically astonishing to me as “Wish” was two years prior. As I listened to the verses of “Mr. Self Destruct” I kept asking myself “Is it supposed to sound like this? I can’t hear what he’s saying”—it was such a cacophony of meticulously detailed and layered noises, but of course not without substance or a melody: its quiet refrain of “And I control you” buried so deep in the mix, it mirrored the subconscious itself.

“Mr. Self Destruct” gives way to “Piggy”—again a haunting track that’s almost tender and such a shock in sequence given the song that preceded it. Again. Dynamics. Surprise. Making the atypical typical in the best non-traditional way. Does that make any sense? Anyway, I felt the same way about the mini-piano solo/ lyric pairing of “now doesn’t it make you feel better” before the dramatic pause in “March Of The Pigs”—I don’t think any of us saw THAT coming. I was literally shocked when that phrasing appeared out of no where, emerging like a tiny ironic rainbow out of the whirlwind of thrashing drums, crazy guitars, and “stains like blood on your teeth” screams the preceded it.

Speaking of screams, the title-track of The Downward Spiral still stands as a monument to vulnerability, despair, and pure abject horror. It’s the only song I’ve ever heard that I am afraid to listen to. When I listen to The Downward Spiral, I wait for the song the way a child hides behind a blanket awaiting glimpses of a film monster: I know it’s coming, and I know it’s going to be horrifying…and it always is. So why do I subject myself to it?

______________________

That’s a fair question. Let’s be frank here: Nine Inch Nails isn’t for everyone. It takes a certain personality to fully appreciate the band’s complete package of black, blue, and bleeding, “but you can dance to it!” Still, NIN is more than mere nihilism and hopelessness. Those who label the band in such ways, kind of miss the point. To me, NIN has always been—lyrically at least—about catharsis: I suppose ALL music functions as such—a tool of understanding, and a mechanism for coping. Trent Reznor once commented on the vulnerability of his lyrics, saying in an interview with NPR that his topic of choice was less about vanity than it was about delivering a performance with honesty and integrity. The only topic that mattered—his emotional struggle—was the only subject he could speak about with authority and with conviction.

However, it just so happens to be a struggle that millions of other people share. When Trent Reznor sings “Now you know/ this is what it feels like” on The Fragile’s “The Wretched,” he is inviting his audience to share in his pain. Whether he intended it this way or not, his is a gesture borne or isolation but ending in comradery: many of us certainly know what “this” “feels like.” And many, many more of us can certainly relate to the words “Dear World, I can hardly recognize you anymore.”

In short, Trent Reznor’s lyrics, as personal as they are, speak for us: his fans. He speaks for me. He still does.

Interestingly, themes consistent in NIN’s best work offer a type of almost emotional ambivalence: caring, but not caring; wanting to be helped, yet rejecting help; and most importantly, wanting to be alone, yet desperately wishing to connect with others. The songs “We’re In This Together” and “The Fragile” perfectly illustrate these sentiments. To me, it is no coincidence they are sequenced side by side on the “some-critics-didn’t-like-it-at-the-time-but-have-since-come-to-their-senses-album” The Fragile.

_________________

Musically, however, NIN is best known for three distinct styles of music: computer chaos, groovy beats, and symphonic soundscapes. I’ve touched on the first—and will return to it—but for now, let’s discuss the second. I’m not a huge fan of the term “death-disco”; however, NIN’s long list of ass-shaking beats, should not be overlooked. What began on Pretty Hate Machine with “Sin” and “The Only Time,” pleasantly resurface on “Into The Void” only to be perfected on “The Hand That Feeds,” “Only” “Capital G,” and “Discipline” not to mention a large portion of Hesitation Marks.

But back to computer chaos—or maybe just chaos in general. I can think of no better example to illustrate my point than the final coda to the song “The Great Destroyer” on the fabulous dystopian opus Year Zero—one of my favourite albums of all time: the sound of things falling apart—wires frayed, systems destroyed, screens cracked: static humming and ‘please stand by’ messages flicking forever. The Eater of Dreams. “All we ever were—just zeros and ones.”

____________________

The final cornerstone of NIN’s musical contribution is soundscapes and instrumentals, and what a can of worms THAT is given all that’s transpired since 2011. Anyway, when The Fragile was released in 1999, more than a few fans bemoaned its inclusion of no less than 7 instrumentals, and yet these contributions have always been a signature addition to NIN’s body of work: from “pinion,” “help me I am in hell,” “a warm place,” the deeply personal “La Mer,” to Ghosts I through VI, NIN’s experiments with sound have always been integral to their songwriting process—a willingness to experiment and a love of discovery which surprisingly, yet somewhat inevitably, lead to NIN’s work in soundtracks. Beginning somewhat inadvertently with Tony Scott’s Man On Fire (look it up), and then deliberately on the video game Quake, this creative direction eventually resulted in (as we all know) various Oscar and Emmy nominations and wins for Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, and yeah, while technically not “Nine Inch Nails” releases, I think we can all agree it’s hard to separate the two sometimes because as we all know, the line begins to blur, amiright?

The point is this: Nine Inch Nails were and are no strangers to pushing boundaries musically, visually, and artistically. Some defining unconventional moments in the band’s career to me are as follows:

· The 97 one-second tracks on the Broken EP before its final two songs; the infamous Broken film itself—a movie I found on a bootlegged VHS tape and rented for a mere 1 dollar at the time—and then proceeded to wish that I never did.

· Moving on, there is of course the band’s seminal 1994 Woodstock performance, where the musicians arrived on stage in a foggy haze, caked head to toe in mud, and bringing the apocalypse with them;

· Next we have the Alternate Reality Game developed around the release of Year Zero,

· There was the free download of The Slip; and the free downloads of Ghosts V and VI some years later

· Who could also forget about the NINREMIX website where fans were invited to remix the band’s songs and post them for all to enjoy, and copyright be damned.

· Um, there was also that time they said “a heartfelt fuck you” to the Grammy’s.

· And finally we have Nine Inch Nail’s unexpected live appearance on the rather toned down Austin City Limits.

And the list goes on. Trent Reznor once explained such actions in the most self-aware terms possible: he likes pushing himself (as well as his fans) out of comfort zones, to flirt with mainstream conventions but to approach and execute them as only Nine Inch Nails can: with integrity and—to borrow Trent’s appraisal of the late David Bowie—“uncompromising vision.”

_______________________________

Speaking of integrity and uncompromising vision, NIN’s humility is one of the band’s most inspiring and endearing characteristics. In Reznor’s case, we’re talking about an accomplished artist who admitted publically that he still feels he has so much to learn about his craft—that he’s barely scratched the surface regarding his mastery of sound and songwriting; a man that mocked his own starry eyed expression upon receiving an Oscar by pairing it with the caption “I see unicorns” and inviting fans to provide similar self-deprecating taglines. A man who speaks in measured tones about his opportunities and successes in his life—and does so, repeatedly I might add, quietly, humbly, and gratefully.

Such self-awareness is extremely rare in show-business let alone by a band that’s achieved as much as Nine Inch Nails.

And guess what? Here’s the thing. I think there’s no stopping them. With Nine Inch Nails—particularly, Trent and Atticus no matter what they call themselves and until they are inducted into the IHOR as solo artists, anything’s possible:

· Scoring a children’s movie? The upcoming Pixar film Soul? Why not? Let’s have some more. Give me a children’s album!

· Creating a vintage jazz ballad (the unparalleled “The Way It Used to Be”) in a week and making it indistinguishable from other songs of the era? Of course!

· Winning a Tony Award to become part of the EGOT club—I say sure. In fact, prediction: before the end of the world (so basically, in about 30 years) Nine Inch Nails will get an EGOT. There. Prove me wrong.

______________________

In 1997 Spin Magazine once hailed Trent Reznor as “the most vital artist in music today,” while in that same year Trent Reznor appeared on Time Magazine’s list of the top 25 most influential Americans.

These accolades were well earned; however, I prefer a statement made by some music magazine critic whose name escapes me in their review of a Nine Inch Nails album whose name also escapes me: they said, “we can only hope something else pisses him off,” sentiments which I’m sure are echoed by many, and to which I reply…there seems to be no worry about that.

____________________

Nine Inch Nails encompass a facet of popular art that is as necessary as it is compulsory: they remind us that the world is not pleasant; tragedy is inevitable; the game is rigged; faith is a lie; and everyone you know will abandon or disappoint you.

But guess what? If you’re lucky, the way out is through, motherfuckers.

I am honoured to induct Nine Inch Nails into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

#trent reznor #Robert Muhlbock #Owenshire #Nine Inch Nails #Rock and Roll Hall of Fame #Rock Hall 2020 #The Fragile #Year Zero #Pretty Hate Machine #Broken #Hesitation Marks #The Downward Spiral

2 notes · View notes

gerbiloftriumph · 4 years ago

Photo

The Size of Hope

(also on ao3)

Mordon isn’t certain what to make of the fairy tale king his goblin friends captured, and King Graham has no idea what to make of the huge and clumsy goblin who keeps running into his path. The two warily team up, but neither one belongs in the goblin kingdom, and some pain runs deeper than either expects.

(Gen canon-expansion fic putting scrapped fragments from the subtitle file back into the game. Full fic warnings: bruising, canon-typical violence, self-hatred, abuse, Goblins Do Not Make Good Friends)

~*~*~

5/5

(1: Seen)(2: Found)(3: Buried)(4: Lost)(5: Hands to Hold and Hope)

~*~*~

Much, much later:

Two old men stare blankly at each other. They stand in the tunnels beneath Daventry, in the old well where Graham’s journey to knighthood had begun; where his journey to kinghood had been completed; where Manny had hidden for years; where Mordon—Mordack, now—had grown out of his goblin armor. The waterfalls splash and echo oddly in the cold, empty caves. There used to be a dragon in here. Before Manny let it out to wreak havoc on the lands above. There used to be a lot in here. And now there’s just the king and the goblin and the memories.

“Look, before you do his test of strength or whatever,” Mordack says, looking down at his feet. “I need to know. Do you remember the goblin caves? When the villagers were taken? And we met? Did you…you really didn’t know? That I was…not a goblin?”

Graham blinks, startled. “Mordack, that was fifty years ago.”

“Yeah. I know.” As though he hasn’t thought about it every night since then. He tries to play it casual. “But. Did you know?”

A hesitation. Graham stares at the nearby waterfall, at the little cave with the stained alchemy tables and worn fragments of life. Then: “No. I didn’t know. Not at first. I suspected, I truly did, and for that I take the blame, but I had no proof. Not until it was too late. I wish….” He can’t seem to find the right words.

The two men look at each other across years, and it’s uneasy, this not knowing what might have happened if Mordack had become a Daventry citizen that night. If Manny (once considered Mordon’s favorite illustrator, a champion of stories) hadn’t stopped him from going to Graham’s castle after he’d calmed down. If he had grown up with Graham instead of Manny. If things had changed in just that one tiny moment.

The pause stretches on and on.

Mordack clears his throat. “You’d better go find that crystal. Follow the signs. Manny’s made it very clear.”

“Yes, he has.” Graham leaves slowly, quietly.

Mordack stands for a long time, waiting. And when Graham doesn’t return, not for minutes, not for hours, he sinks to his knees helplessly and stares into the water.

~*~*~

At the end of the story, all three men stand on the Floating Island. Around them, goblins crowd the audience stands, jeering and applauding and pushing each other and generally causing trouble. Graham and Manny (he prefers Manannan these days) are glaring daggers at each other. Or at least, Manannan is. Graham just looks…tired. He’s been playing all the games, performing as demanded, and drunk frankly silly amounts of wine in this final challenge. (So has Manannan, but Graham is showing his exhaustion more, doesn’t have magic to bolster him up like the wizard.) Somehow that hasn’t dulled the old king at the puzzles: he’s successfully avoided every dose of hypnotic powder hidden in some of the cups. (But so has Manannan.)

The New and Improved Duel of Wits is nearing its end. Mordack is off to one side, guarding the crystal Manannan is using as his power base, the crystal giving the wizard power and strength. Guarding it in case Graham tries something heroic and foolish.

Mordack knows what the final test is. Knows someone is going to die.

And he’s not sure who he wants it to be.

In truth, he knows he exchanged one set of chains for another when he teamed up with Manannan. Ordered to act against Daventry. To raise a kidnapped prince as a slave, to train a dragon to burn on command, to manipulate and twist an ice queen into a pawn—with nothing but abuse and threats as a reward. Cruelty and mockery. Never the soft words of a family, not from Manannan. Just bitter schemes in the night and anger in the morning. Hopeless and helpless.

But Graham hadn’t ever tried to reach out to him and rescue him, either. Not that Mordack had ever asked, ever indicated he was struggling.

And anyway, Mordack didn’t deserve rescuing. Not after what he had done to Graham in anger and hate. How he had tried so hard to rip the king’s happiness away, tried to make him feel that cold despair.

He touches the sharp slashes across his cheek. Four long and deep scars that Graham himself struck during one of Manannan’s schemes. The injury had been triggered in self-defense: Mordack would have killed Graham and his family if Graham hadn’t lashed out with magic in that one desperate, clawing moment. That strike across Mordack’s face had distracted him long enough to lose the fight. Had saved the royal family from a cruel fate, had protected the kingdom. But Mordack still wears the scars like a flag.

The pain of being slashed haunts his nightmares. The king, fending off a monster.

No more than Mordack deserves.

No monster deserves to be saved. The wolf, the fox, hated and hunted.

No, this is for the best. This is a fair contest. Whoever wins, wins, and that’ll be that.

And the last two cups are nasty. It’s a half and half chance. One will win, and one will be poisoned.

(I hope it’s Graham.)

One will die.

(I hope it’s Manannan.)

One will win the kingdom.

(I don’t know what I want.)

They can’t puzzle their way out of this. The cups are identical in every detail—other than the crucial poison lurking in one of them. Graham has the first choice. Like he did when he was young. Two cups, and a kingdom between them. Literally. A magical rendition, as real as the real country, is displayed on the table, another silent witness to this story’s end. Mordack watches the old king make a choice, watches him drink. They wait a moment, but Graham starts to smile—it tasted clear and clean. Poisonless. He’s won. The audience cheers, not caring who wins but just pleased that the game has been good.

But of course Manannan won’t play fair. He picks up the poisoned cup, waves it at Graham almost playfully—but instead of drinking it and accepting his fate like he was meant to, he tips it over.

The poison gloops out of the cup. It will drip into that magical image of Daventry, curse deeper than any other curse could. The once cheerful and bright kingdom will turn to ashes and hatred. He’d rather destroy everything than let Graham win.

Mordack can tell what happens next is an impulse. Graham lunges across the table, knocks the cup back, and all the poison absorbs into his hands in a crackle of green light. He stares at his hands, at the flashing, curling scars twirling across his worn fingers before fading to look like old scars, white and raised against his skin.

He will die. Slowly, perhaps, but that’s that. He lost. He won, but he lost.

Manannan is taken aback, but he rallies. “Huh. Nice move. I’ll accept that,” he says, and then he raises his hand, “but let’s see if I can help speed up the effects.”

His fingers snap.

Graham shrieks, weakened by poison, by stress, by wine, by everything, and helpless to defend himself. Cruel magic takes hold.

The old king is the puppet Manannan always wanted, now. The strings might not be visible to the naked eye, but Mordack has been around enough of Manannan’s magic to imagine it. He can picture the sticky green strands wrapped around the king’s arms, legs, torso, neck, tighter than any goblin rope, impossible to break. Manannan laughs as he throws the king across the stage with just a flick of his wrist, smashing him against the ground, against the tables—wine cups roll, spilling their hypnotic contents across the grass and fizzling. Mordack is sure he can hear the king’s arm break as he hurtles helplessly against the ground again and again, the snap echoing in his ears.

Graham smiled at you.

No one had ever smiled at you before. Just bared teeth and growls and insults and usually a kick or several.

Graham might be unconscious—his head has lolled forward on his chest. No smiles now.

His body is slack. The one arm is definitely broken, awkward and loose looking. There might be more broken pieces. It’s hard to be sure. Manannan is holding him high in the air now, pausing, considering what he wants to do next.

Graham waved at you.

A gentle hand, raised to greet you, to acknowledge you.

But the arm’s broken now.

“You’ve already won!” Mordack cries. “There’s no need to torture him.”

Manannan ignores him, flinging the king high and yanking him down again.

Bully. Hurting someone who can’t fight back. Thumping again and again and again.

Selfless. Graham lunged across the table to catch the cup, to lose everything and save everything. He reached out and touched your bruised arm, the lightest of affirmations. Fingers that now drip with poison, with the curse, with death—but in the goblin caves they had been full of life. They still were full of life. They protected, those hands. They had saved Daventry at such a cost.

He insulted the stories. Mordack had spent his life since that moment with that book hating how he’d been given hope and hating how that hope had been ripped from him so quickly. Hating the king.

He made a mistake. That shouldn’t be the end.

You’re not a mistake, either.

“Leave him be. I won’t ask you again.” Mordack’s voice is deep in his throat, a goblin grumble, and it seems to echo around the platform.

“I always guessed you’d side with him,” Manannan says, grinning darkly in his moment of triumph. “It was only a matter of time. You’re a useless monster, with no loyalty. I guess it’s time I held your tongue, too.” One hand still holds the king, but the other hand reaches out and snaps.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.

Pain erupts through Mordack’s body, hot and cold and agonizing. Crackles and snaps along his muscles, freezing him in place, blinding him, and he can’t even cry out, can’t move, can’t breathe. He scrambles to focus, fighting against an invisible enemy that has him utterly pinned down from within his soul.

Monster. Just a monster. Pitiful and weak, never better than an unwanted, abandoned human shrouded in goblin armor.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts!

Manannan is enjoying watching Mordack writhe and twist. The smile grows wider, more pleased than he’s been in years. A bleak smile, barred and fanged and deadly. Graham is limp in the magic’s grip, eyes closed—can’t tell if he’s breathing or not anymore.

Mordack can feel himself losing consciousness too. It hurts to breathe. If he could just close his eyes and sleep, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. He wouldn’t feel anymore. This betrayal from his master—his brother, the goblin who swapped places with him all those years ago—wouldn’t mean anything anymore.

No loyalty.

But the king…

Maybe there were different types of monsters. Maybe there were different loyalties. Different truths. Maybe he wanted to know. Maybe it wasn’t too late to find out.

Mordack yanks against the magic that wraps around his wrists, forces his way past the pain (it couldn’t hurt worse than it already is; what’s another searing agony compared to all the rest), raises his hand high above his head, curls it into a fist, and slams down against the crystal. It shatters, shards flying in all directions, sharp edges cutting his hands. The sound is almost pleasant, a ringing chime, like music. He can feel the magic rushing through him, streaming beyond his fingers and curling into the sky.

Instantly, Manannan’s hands drop, and Graham and Mordack collapse like puppets with cut strings, and Manannan reaches out to Mordack and the crystal, screaming, but it’s too late, much, much too late, and the loosed magic is overwhelming, and it turns on him and rips through him and he loses control, loses everything, and then…the wizard is simply gone, consumed by his own magic. Gone in a puff of smoke.

Mordack pushes himself to his knees. Feels sick. But his head is quickly clearing without the magic tearing against him. He can’t rest. Not yet.

He runs to the king. To Graham. He kneels, reaches out, freezes, recoils, hesitates, reaches again, gently touches. Graham moans, barely conscious, and Mordack pushes closer, pulls the king toward him, mindful of the broken arm, of the blossoming bruises, of the pain.

The world is still. He can’t hear anything. Can’t feel anything but the weight of the king in his arms.

Graham opens his eyes. They’re blurred, dizzy, hazy.

“King? Ohh, fairy tale king?” Mordack whispers, cradling him, feeling like a child again, lost and alone in the caves. “Graham?”

“Who…?” Graham’s voice is breathless, his eyes still unfocused.

“I am…Mordon.”

Graham blinks, considers, and then the focus comes back into his eyes. Recognition blazes across his face as he remembers, as he realizes, and he smiles. “Not Mordack?”

“No, not Mordack, not anymore. Come on, easy now,” Mordon says, draping Graham’s good arm over his shoulder, helping him stand. They stumble against each other, and Graham winces, but Mordon steadies them, and he turns toward Daventry castle. “I’ve got you. You’re with me. Let’s get you home.”

#/slaps roof of fic - this bad boy can fit so many parallels in it #King's Quest #King Graham #kings quest #mordack #fic'ing #ch5

6 notes · View notes

skvaderarts · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Sixteen: Epiphany

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Sixteen: Epiphany

Note: Thanks for the comments as always! As mentioned, this chapter is a little shorter than normal, but the next few will more than make up for it. I just didn’t want to drag this sequence out so that we could get to the exciting part sooner. You don’t want to make things too bogged down. Enjoy and get hyped for the next chapter… It’s been a nightmare to write lol! Sorry for any mistakes. It was a long night.

-~-

Things had been relatively quiet for the last little while, Agnus’s alchemical monstrosities content with roaming the entryway aimlessly in almost total silence for the time being. While the magical seal on the door to the library and the three separate sets of retractable bars that shielded the doorway from further attacks were more than likely enough to keep the artificial demons at bay, there was still a certain amount of apprehension as to their current level of security. Considering the fact that the Cutlass and Gladius, much like the seal itself (presumably), were products of the Order and their unscrupulous experiments, their ability to gain entry into the room was questionable at the best. And a product of that uncertainty was a permeating sense of urgency in regardless to finding a relatively safe way out of Fortuna Castle before things escalated to a level that they couldn’t control.

As the silence in the air brewed tension between them, V glanced over his shoulder from the second story balcony. After Nero had helped him reach the upper section of the library, the younger devil hunter had retired to the far corner of the room, his attention fixed upon some sort of mechanical contraption. It was a welcome change, at least for the time being. While V was indeed flattered that Nero had been so worried about the laceration that he had received during their mad dash to reach the library, he wasn’t accustomed to having someone worry over him. It was touching; even somewhat flattering… but not something he was entirely comfortable with. V’s rational mind told him that this was normal, and he acknowledged it readily, more than able to comprehend the concept of platonic familial concern. But, despite the fact that he knew there was nothing abnormal about having Nero worry over him (especially when he had good reason too) he still couldn’t stand it.

The young summoner took a moment to mentally chastise himself for his illogical thought process. Of course he didn’t like it. He wasn’t supposed to. Having other people be concerned about him wasn’t meant to be an enjoyable process. He doubted that Nero enjoyed worrying about him either. Nothing about the situation that the pair of brothers currently found themselves in was comfortable or reassuring. In fact, from what the longer white-haired man could tell, they currently had no way of leaving the room that they were trapped in. It was a double-edged sword in that regard. Nothing in, nothing out; the only threat being the very thing that kept other threats at bay. It was quite ironic in an almost poetic sort of way. V couldn’t help but find humor in their possible damnation. While the bleeding from his injury had indeed slowed and was more than likely trivial in the eyes of proper medical care, they needed to actually leave the castle for first aid to take place. But in the meantime, he could simply count himself lucky. The demon that had dealt this wound was composed almost entirely of sharp edges. It was a miracle that he stood here now, reading these books in search of the answers he had inadvertently risked both of their lives for.

As V combed through the pages of the worn-out old book he held in his hand, his attention was drawn back to Nero. The younger of the two had just cursed quite loudly, clearly fed up with the piece of almost steampunk like piece of machinery he had been tinkering with for nearly an hour. V considered inquiring as to the nature of the problem, but relented, acutely aware that he more than likely had nothing insightful to add to the dilemma. It was odd for him to be so far out of the loop, but to say that he thought he knew everything would be a bald-faced lie. No one knew absolutely everything that there was to know. This just happened to be one of the rare instances where he had no idea what was going on. He redirected his attention back to the book, closing it and placing it back in its proper place on the bookshelf. While V was aware of the fact that there was no one else around to see him misplace it and that they were under more than a small amount of time pressure, he simply didn’t feel right just laying the book down somewhere. It wasn’t’ the right thing to do and that wasn’t who he was. He would find the time necessary to make sure that he left this place in at least the same condition that he had found it.

V walked down the row of bookcases in front of him, dragging his finger idly down the spines of the books as he went. At least half of the works contained in this room were not written in English, and many of the ones that were had been transcribed in very old classical English or by hand, making them a trial by fire to read. Much of it was in either Latin or Adamic; the former he had some basic comprehension of, the latter less so. Although his love of literature had lent him an excellent grasp of written languages, this was testing his skills somewhat more than he would like. As he glanced over the books in his search for one that he might be able to actually decipher, his finger brushed over the cover of a sizable tome. The words on the cover caught his eye, but the spine was somewhat faded. He would need to remove this one from the shelf and take a better look at it.

Upon removing the tome from the self, he took notice of several qualities it possessed. The book was weighty and delicate, clearly one of the oldest texts in this library. The leather binding had held true for who knew how long, the paper quite aged and much more coarse than what he was accustomed to. Surprisingly elegant handwriting lined each page of the book, several detailed illustrations accompanied by even more meandering descriptions and instructions practically overflowed from each page. It was all quite fascinating to look at if he was being honest. Could he keep this book? Would anyone notice or even care if he took it home with him to give a more thorough examination? He flipped the pages carefully until he reached the cover. When he had first opened it, it had automatically gone to the middle of the book. This was presumably due to the way it had been bound, but that wasn’t entirely important at the moment.

“Dux Connexionem Referat Inferis” The title of the text flowed effortlessly from his mouth as he traced the words with his finger, taking a moment to try and remember what all the words meant,” Yes… this may prove useful after all.”

Nero glanced up from his position on the floor below, his focus still clearly on the Gyro Blade he was currently knelt down in front of. “You know what that says, V?”

V shrugged slightly as he flipped through what seemed to be an overview of sorts, introducing it’s audience to the different topics contained within its pages. The headings were all written with different mediums, signifying that they had been added gradually over the course of the writer’s lifetime. Oddly enough, the first few dozen pages did not contain the elegant script that he had seen in the middle of the book. Was this the work of multiple authors? After a moment he nodded to himself. Much to his enjoyment, this book contained information on the nature of familiar contracts and something else that seemed to pertain to artificial demons.

“I believe this may be some sort of encyclopedia or index. It makes mention of a Hellgate on an island that periodically changes location and a demon emperor,” He said as he turned the pages, his eyes fixed upon the writing they contained,” While I don’t think I have time to decipher this entire book just yet, it may have the answers I was looking for. There is some mention of Nightmare’s conception.”

Nero gestured to the empty room, laughing to himself slightly. Nightmare was one of his summons, right? How powerful did it need to be to get mentioned in a book that old? “Right now we have nothing but time. Unless I can get this stupid thing working,” Nero said as he gesured irritatedly towards the Gyro Blade,” We aren’t going anywhere. Does that book say anything about this thing?”

V used his finger to bookmark the page before turning back to the table of contents, taking a moment to look it over. After a moment, he shook his head.

“It mentions something about an alchemical substance called Anima Mercury in this article about Quicksilver, but I can’t quite make out anything specific aside from the fact that they share similar properties,” He looked up for a moment, an incredulous look plastered across his face,” I don’t have any answers for you, unfortunately. Have you tried kicking it?”

The youngest descendant of Sparda stared at his older brother blankly for a moment, his neck craning sideways. Had V just told a joke at a time like this? No, surely he had just heard him wrong. He had to be mistaken. The eldest of the two seemed to key into his younger counterpart’s train of thought, gesturing with his outstretched hand towards the contraption in question. “I’m quite serious. Apparently this device is powered by kinetic energy. That is a stipulation of the Animal Mercury. It grants sentience, but not locomotion. If you have previously moved the device, then I can only assume that-”

Before V could finish his explanation, Nero drew Req Queen and slammed it downward towards the mechanical spinning top esque device before him, kicking it as he did so for good measure. The spinning blades within folded outward at the top and the machine lifted up off of the ground, hovering in place as if waiting for further simulation. Nero stared at it blankly as V looked down at him, clearly fascinated by now functional Gyro Blade. He could tell by the look on Nero’s face that he hadn’t expected the device to actually move.

Upon realizing that the device actually functioned, Nero took a few steps back and charged forward, launching himself feet first into the device. It rocked forward, crashing into the door of the library with a loud bang. The seal guarding the door shattered and the bars opened automatically, allowing them to finally exit the building. V slipped down from the upper level and landed on one of the floor dividers, gaining him a raised eyebrow from Nero and a thoroughly displeased side as his wound pulled slightly and he began to bleed a bit more. It was nothing catastrophic, but it was uncomfortable, to say the least. Nero offered him a hand and, after taking a moment to consider his alternative options, V decided to take him up on the offer, at least for the time being. In this particular instance, he was once again reminded of how much he missed his cane. It would be particularly useful at the moment. With that, the two of them exited the library, V taking a moment to tuck the book into one of the coat’s interior pockets. He would take the time to look it over more thoroughly once they were safely within the walls of Nero’s charming little home again.

They made their way down the balcony and back into the art gallery, noting the distinct lack of Cutlass and Gladius as they went. It was enough to raise an uncomfortable feeling within V, piquing his interest. While he could easily imagine that they had retreated, it was still very strange to see barely any traces of them. Their previous assault had been a sheer act of chaotic willpower, one that they had very narrowly overcome. It was imperative that they figure out where they had gone and either slip past them or use their combined problem solving skills to get the drop on them.

So basically they were going with plan A.

From the moment they stepped foot into the lobby, they were struck by the overwhelming silence that permeated the room. There were no demons in here like there had been a short while ago. Well, at least none that were alive. A pile of dead remnants was stacked in the middle of the first floor, a few stray demons scattered about. It seemed that they had been attacked all at once while a few outliers had actually noticed the threat and had tried to protect their collective to no avail. The Cutlass had been eradicated with ruthless efficiency, and the Gladius seemed to have tried to flee back into the labs before the attack had ended them once and for all. This was evident by the sheer number of them that laid dead on the stairs that led up to the opening to the lab behind the painting.

Something wasn’t right here…

As they reached the bottom of the steps and took a step towards the front entrance, V stopped a moment. He couldn’t tell if it was his general condition or his injuries, but he felt substantially weaker all of a sudden. It was as if all the energy had been sucked from his body in that very instant. Nero grappled the sudden shift in their collective center of balance, wrapping his right arm around V to try and help him steady himself. He clearly didn’t look well. A sudden noise from in front of them drew his attention, and what he saw took him off guard. About a dozen individuals in black coats had made themselves visible to them, presumably the people responsible for the dead demons that littered the room. One of them stepped forward, gesturing towards them.

“We’ve been looking for you.” The hooded man said as he lowered his hood to allow his hair to be freed and his face to become visible. “You’re quite hard to track down. It took us several days. Some sort of ward, I presume?”

Nero shot them a defensive look, glancing cautiously at V who seemed to be trying to shake off the sudden dizziness that plagued him. “Were not in a talking mood right now, so you’re going to have to forgive us but we’re not sticking around.”

The hooded individuals seemed incensed by the comment, taking defensive stances as though they were preparing to attack. The leader, the tall man from before, placed his hands in his pockets and stretched, seemingly unafraid. “Terribly sorry, I must not have been clear. Our master requires an audience with him.”

He gestured towards V, nodding. The taller of the two was starting to come out of his dizzy spell, so he looked up from the floor and shook his head in denial. There was absolutely no way either of them was going with these mystery men in black coats. They sounded just like the cult V had overheard Nero reassuring Kyrie about earlier that day.

Before either party could speak further, the front gate to the castle creaked open, and a familiar woman stepped inside. Before anyone could speak, she took a defensive stance, readying herself. The cultists turned their attention to her and several of them immediately began to call forth their summons. It seemed that this group was comprised of a much higher number of summoners than the one she had taken on at the pier. The three of them could only hope they were equally as competent.

-~-

These last few chapters are going to be FUN! I’m working on them as you are reading this, so feel free to tune in on Wednesday, June 24th as we reach the climax of book one! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter despite the fact that it’s slightly shorter than normal (about 500 words) and I look forward to seeing you all next week! Stay safe out there!

#Soliloquy #V #Nero #Dante #Vergil #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Post DMC5

7 notes · View notes

thelunaticbinge · 5 years ago

Text

Kenny Omega is a Siren

And I am but a flailing sailor throwing myself onto the rocks.

I've been watching wrestling since I was about 10 years old, give or take. I'm now 28, almost 29. I fell in and out of watching it along the way, but have been pretty consistent for the past 6 years.

WWF/WWE has been the primary player in my story, understandably. I grew up in love with (and still am in love with Jeff Hardy). I gravitated, as a kid, toward colorful characters and teams like Team Xtreme, and ones that were high flying dare devils. The acrobatic, lightning fast nature of that style captivates kids easily, it can’t be denied. I still love the style, and appreciate any performer that works that way. It’s high energy and grabs the audience.

Despite this preferred style, however, I must admit that the actual wrestling wasn’t what initially drew me in, and it isn’t often what keeps me held nowadays. Obviously, if I didn’t enjoy the physical aspect, I wouldn’t be watching, and I can recognize when someone is particularly talented at what they do in the ring. But it was always the characters and the stories that pulled me in when I was younger, and which continue to do this day. That being said, I’ve gravitated away from WWE in a lot of ways. I appreciate so much of what the guys and girls do, and how hard they work, and how talented they are, and yet I’ve been terribly bored by it all lately. The stories just aren’t there for me. But that’s an essay for another day when I have more patience.

Fast forward to roughly a year and half to two years ago. Enter Bullet Club/The Elite.

I have far too much solitary time at my job so my mind tends to wander into daydreaming about what it would be like to meet some of these guys, or else what it would be like to sit down and actually spew my wrestling fandom story to some made up interviewer. Doing this really helped me dissect what it is I love about Kenny as a performer. Because I love him as a person too, but that much goes without saying. I’ll get this out of the way right now so that I can be genuine and serious for the rest of this. Most of what I explain in this essay lends A TON to the fact that the man is just sexy as fuck. Kill me dead.

God damn angel.

The first thing that drew me to Kenny was, in fact, his in ring ability. As I said before, I don’t often over analyze what the wrestlers do in the ring aside from finishers or signature moves and if I like the way they look. For instance, I think the RKO is one of the loveliest moves to watch. Call me fake all you want, it’s fine by me. I’ve been watching long enough to know what most moves are called and how an in-ring performance aids the story: I’m not uneducated, this is simply about taste. I’m a plot person, a charisma and character person.

But Kenny is one of the special ones.

Something about the way he moves strikes a chord. It took me a while to pinpoint what it might be, but I finally had an epiphany not too long ago. He really does move like a video game character. I grew up loving video games and while I don’t play as much anymore, I really appreciate how his passion for them bleeds into his wrestling style.

And it isn’t just his moves, but his mannerisms. I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t like that about him; that he’s too over the top and goofy sometimes, and I just want to tell them, “That’s the point, though.” He excels at being over the top. Because depending on what he’s doing, who he’s fighting, what the current arc is, his mannerisms always make sense to me. The deliveries of his finger gun, the “You can’t escape”, some of his crazy eyes. I love it all.

I am 90% sure that the first match I ever saw of his was the one with Jericho at the Tokyo Dome. So obviously I haven’t been around long as far as his career goes. But if there was ever a match to fall in love at first sight with him, that was the one.

His moves, guys. HIS MOVES. The man is a machine. But like a 95% organic, android machine. Terminator, obviously. Wink wink.

Think about it. He is so crisp, concise, and articulate in how he moves. He is both explosive and technical. He mixes the powerful moves in with the high flying, manic style I’ve loved since I was ten in such a seamless way. The one-winged angel is a great move for its established devastation. Rarely have I seen anyone kick out of it, which is why I’m glad he never connected with it in the Mox match at Full Gear. Mox was able to come out on top in his specialty match, and yet Kenny wasn’t lessened by having his finisher made ineffective.

But I’ve found that even though I adore Kenny’s finisher and his flying over the ropes and around the ring, it’s some of the other things he does that fascinate me. For one, I adore the movement for his “You can’t escape” segment. How, may I ask, does a person move like that? And I’m not even talking about the moonsault part. I provide a link to a twitter gif because I can’t save gifs off twitter. Click HERE.

The man is like a gymnast with that stuck landing GOOD LORD.

To make up for the lack of an at hand visual, have this gif because I love it.

Secondly, the V-Trigger. This is a signature, yes, but fucking beautiful to watch. It’s speed and power and looks as life-ending as it does poetic. Just ask Joey Janela.

Have I mentioned yet that I love Kenny’s run? It’s so distinctive. Especially when it first starts. The high knee. The acceleration. The man is gorgeous in motion. Just agree with me and we’ll keep trucking along here.

The one move, though, that really illustrates what I’m getting at here is one that should--at least to my not professional in any way eye--be fairly elementary. I’m talking about the the snapdragon.

Please correct me if I’m wrong in saying this, but to my eye it seems like a move not developed for its power/match ending ability, but simply as a way to bring the opponent down and waylay them for a minute. It’s a suplex of sorts, yes? I imagine it isn’t meant to result in a pin.

But Kenny’s snapdragon is probably my favorite move he does. The Speed. The SPEED. THE SPEED. Whip-like and akin to the RKO in its tendency to strike out of nowhere. I watched him do it 3 times in a row live in person and I could only stare with fucking heart eyes.

He takes this move that should just be a trip up maneuver and makes it look like it could truly kill a man.

This is the best gif I could find, my apologies. Found on reddit.

Again, maybe the move was always supposed to spell obliteration for the opponent. I don’t see it really outside of when Kenny does it. But I think his style largely affects my view of it.

The motion of this man in his performance really drives home to me what so many people love about the art in wrestling. I sit up and pay attention to the physicality in a way I don’t in other matches. Don’t get me wrong. I’ll be up out of my seat for a lot of guys and gals, screaming and electric with the crowd when shit gets crazy. But when Kenny is in the ring, I find myself really absorbing what he does because of how well he does it. His talent has really connected with me, but I get it doesn’t with some people. Well, maybe I don’t get it, per-say, but to each his own.

I find that a lot of the qualities I find so enrapturing about his wrestling transition into what I love about his promos. His work on BTE is often very different from the NJPW/ROH/AEW stuff. His BTE stuff is usually humorous and endearing in weird, chaotic ways. I find him funny and cute and sometimes a bit unhinged. I’ve always liked a little crazy in my faves, let’s be real.

His in-ring promos hit a different nerve.

As with his wrestling, Kenny’s speech is crisp, concise, and articulate. It’s been a while since I’ve watched one, but I call to mind his introduction of Marty into Bullet Club. The wording he uses in such promos really elevate his character, especially when he’s got The Cleaner vibe going on. But for me, its all in his tone, the inflections. He’s quiet and you listen. The promos are smooth, easy to track, and evoke emotion.

It’s been a long time since a wrestler has really snatched my attention in the way Kenny Omega does. I find myself listening to my faves’ promos in both WWE and AEW more often than “listening” to their matches, and this often leads to me missing parts of the story. Do some promos fall flat? Sure. Depends on the character much of the time, and if I dig the current rivalry.

It hasn’t yet mattered to me who Kenny is facing. I pay strict attention. And in turn I pay attention to what the other person is doing, too. I love the wildness of Kenny’s matches--a wildness that isn’t only made obvious by his high flying moves, but by the subtler ones, too, as well as his mannerisms and expressions. The man can lay you out with a one-winged angel, 1,2,3. But first he’s going to tear you apart with a plethora of poetry in motion.

#kenny omega #aew #all elite wrestling #the cleaner #being the elite #bte #welcome to my brain

58 notes · View notes

smartguyreviewed · 5 years ago

Text

2x1 - Primary Brothers

Original air date: September 10, 1997

Season 2, what it do? Yes, the first season only had 7 whole episodes and now we are back. I hope everyone enjoyed heartwearming TJ in the last ep, because we’re getting a full push back into manipulative TJ. And what better setting for this little villain than politics?

It all starts with TJ, home from school and hoppin’ mad, slamming shit down and just letting his little lips pucker all the way out. The source of his ire is the broke ass science club at school. They have no money for anything cool. TJ, hon, you go to a predominately black public school that has no money for AP classes, so what did you expect? Go make some dry ice or something.

Floyd asks why Piedmont isn’t paying for its more intellectual extracurriculars and Yvette says the funds are allocated by the student council. It’s the reason why the Penguins got new gear even though their team is shitty. I get that Floyd is just trying to do his best here, but he’s completely out of touch by saying TJ should run for president. Yvette has to quickly shut that down by reminding TJ that it’s nothing but a popularity contest that a 10 year old has a chance in hell of winning. I personally remember when I foolishly ran for president in grade school. Quickly learned that nothing beats being tall, a guy and promising everyone Pokemon cards if they voted for you. This world is unfair, I tell you!

Even Floyd has to admit that Yvette is right, but TJ notoriously doesn’t take n for an answer and never accepts defeat. He decides to run anyway, with astoundingly bad results. These posters certainly don’t help.

Yvette checks in on TJ after Mo chides him for not having food. He tells Yvette that he’s failing and she reminds him of the missing height and age that would make running easier. We know where this is going. In true political form, TJ decides to make someone his puppet. Enter Marcus, who isn’t interested at first, but the moment a cute girl shows up and strokes his ego just a teensy bit, he decides to run. TJ is so annoyed that he breaks the fourth wall.

Now we’re on the campaign trail and first up are the “science dorks” as Marcus so eloquently puts it. When they roll up on the clique, one of them actually flinches. I’m just confused because Marcus doesn’t seem to have a bullying bone in his body but apparently he pantsed this kid. Weird. After mispronouncing the name of a comet, Marcus gets clowned a bit, but reassures them that their issues will be heard.

Next up is the jock table and Marcus easily wins this one by promising them a peek at the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue after school. Ah, the days when you actually had to turn pages to get your fap on.

Last but not least are the ladies. Now, if Marcus wanted to gain points in my book, he’d pressure the administration to get the girls free pads and tampons because they shouldn’t even have to buy them to begin with. Or he’d make sure to protect them from unwanted sexual attention on campus. But it’s okay because apparently, they don’t want those things either! All they want is a better sound system for dances. TJ is mad that Marcus is following his dick when the plan was to raise money for his science club.

Marcus however, has grown to like this and wants to continue to run alone. Good for you, Marcus! Don’t let that little pipsqueak boss you around.

Yvette always seems to be around whenever she needs to point out the obvious to TJ, so here she is, reminding TJ that Marcus is popular and has a real chance at winning. TJ realizes he needs to nab someone else with that popular proximity. Enter Mo. Because TJ can’t just do one thing at a time, he figures he can both win this election and break up his brother’s only real friendship in one go.

TJ is able to convince Mo that he’s in Marcus’s shadow because Mo is a lowly bass player and Marcus sings lead. But...it’s Marcus’s band! And what’s wrong with being a bass player? This doesn’t even make any sense for Mo to entertain because as we saw before, he clearly doesn’t even care what happens to the band as long as the puss keeps flowing. It’s really annoying to watch him blindly believe anything TJ says, especially when he’s not even really “friends” with TJ. Part of me would even think TJ is still mad about him getting kicked out of the band even though he deserved it. Wow, one bird and three stones, the third being possibly ruining Mackadocious.

Marcus comes around, being uncharacteristically mean to Mo and belittiling him for the plot’s sake. Mo naturally takes offense and now he has ammo to run against Marcus. TJ is a petty--yet brilliant-- little asshole.

At home, Marcus lets Floyd in on what’s been up and how he dropped TJ from his campaign that he didn’t even wanna run for in the first place. Daddy Flody is sad because for a moment because TJ and Marcus were actually getting along. Once he knows that Mo has replaced Marcus, he’s confused, The only one who wanted the damn science club fixings in the first place was TJ. I don’t get why he’s confused though. Doesn’t he remember what his son is capable of? He should totally know that TJ orchestrated all of this, but TJ just shrugs, pretending he doesn’t know why Mo of people is now his running mate. Do better, Flody.

Since this episode is about mudslinging and typical political treachery, Mo as TJ’s stand in is making fun of Marcus to the originally intended demographic. Yvette comes up to TJ and asks if he and his puppet are ready for the debate, and TJ deadass says Mo isn’t a puppet, “he’s a real boy.” Yvette just stopped by to say they’re filming the debate and she’s hosting.

In the midst of all this sneaky fighting and smear campaigns, Marcus actually comes to Mo and tries to apologize for being a dick earlier. Aww, Marcus. Too bad TJ is about to shit all over this because he’s watching and once Mo hears this olive branch, TJ is able to convince Mo that Marcus is trying to bait-and-switch Mo to shake him up for the debate. Marcus insists that it is genuine but TJ wins Mo over by just telling him things to repeat. At this point, Marcus is over trying to be nice and says autonomy is the shit. Mo says fuck autonomy and leaves with TJ to prepare for the debate.

I love how Yvette leans into this husky, reporter voice for the television. She even put on her best two piece lilac suit. She introduces the candidates and is baffled when she realizes that Mo has had his extracurriculars beefed up. When Yvette asks when Mo was in all those clubs, TJ says since earlier that day and that he can prove it. I’m sure that he committed a crime here with these fake documents, but it’s pretty on brand for him to do, so whatever. The view count for the debate goes down when Yvette starts going off into how long each candidate has to talk about issues and honestly, I probably would have left, too. This is a high school student council election, for crying out loud. Her audience went from this:

To this:

Mo and Marcus get into a fight over the stupidest thing: who calls heads or tails. After they start elbowing each other, a physical fight breaks out. Again, TJ tries to break it up, even though he just, you know, only is the reason they’re fighting right now. Intervening gets TJ some new eye makeup. But TJ hasn’t learned shit because at home, nursing his black eye, he is still trying to manipulate the two into being friends again.

Floyd has to remind TJ that hey, you can’t just play with people like that, even if you have good intentions. It finally sinks in that TJ could have very possibly ruined a friendship and broken up a band in one go. Floyd tells him to fess up to the boys and prepare for another ass whooping. Luckily, Mo and Marcus are guys and guys tend to resolve conflict--with each other--fairly fast. Mo comes over and gives something back to Marcus and just as he’s leaving, Marcus invites him back in to watch television. They chat and Mo reciprocates the olive branch with a pound. I really love these two together! They have so much chemistry that I honestly would be heartbroken if I learned that they stop talking after Smart Guy. Anyways, I ship it, Marcus x Mo forever.

Stuff I noticed:

- Yvette is her middle name. Her first name is Tasha!

- Welp, guess the white guy is still president.

- Pretty sure this may not have been intentional, but I love that there is a black girl at the science dorks table. We love our black girl nerds!

#tj henderson #smart guy #yvette henderson #mo tibbs #omar gooding #jason weaver #john marshall jones #disney #tahj mowry #marcus henderson #90s #nineties #essence atkins

8 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: Artistic Merit

Rated: E

Artistic Merit

Ever since starting her scholarship to the art college, Belle had made no secret of her fascination with erotic art. She had always loved the idea of making the unseen seen, of taking private moments and putting them on public display, showing the world that there was no shame in the joys of sex and intimacy, and normalising it into something that was commonplace and yet still had the capacity to entice and excite.

Indeed, after years of studying the subject, Belle could still feel her pulse quicken when she looked at a particularly sensual piece, and more than once she had found her fingers creeping down towards the apex of her thighs in the most unlikely of places as she worked and researched.

Naturally, when she’d found out about the exhibition at the local gallery, which would include a showcase from one of her own professors, no less, she’d jumped at the chance to uncover more art and new ways of painting pleasure onto paper, and whatever other media she could find.

Belle walked slowly through the pieces, drinking in the atmosphere and feeling the first embers of desire begin to burn between her legs. The images were truly beautiful, and Belle found herself thinking about them from the other side of the camera or paintbrush. What would it be like to pose for such artwork? To perform such acts of love and self-pleasure for the silent artist audience. It was one thing to view art after it was made, but to be a part of its making was quite another.

She had purposefully left Professor Gold’s area of the exhibition until last, knowing that he would be there, and that she would want to speak to him about it. He was standing off to one side as she entered his room, speaking to someone Belle recognised as one of the gallery owners. He acknowledged her with a nod, and she fell to admiring his work.

There was a dream-like, fairy-tale quality in Gold’s painting, which only added to the allure of his work, and it matched perfectly to his subject matter. The main centrepiece of his exhibition was a series of erotic illustrations of classic tales. Red Riding Hood was riding her wolfman, head thrown back in ecstasy as her red cloak slipped to show a peek of bare nipple. The beast was transformed back into a man with his beauty’s love, kneeling naked and vulnerable before her. The little mermaid explored the new bits between her new legs as she stood on the beach in the moonlight.

Belle felt the all too familiar pull of arousal in her belly, and she shifted her hips, feeling wet on her gusset already.

“What do you think?” Gold came over to her, holding out a glass of champagne. Belle had already had one when she’d first arrived – it was cheap and acidic, but she accepted gratefully, hoping that it would stop her being tongue-tied. She’d had a little bit of a crush on her professor since the start of her course, but now that she was here, with him and all of his erotic work, it had developed into something much hotter and more full-bodied.

“I like it,” she said. “I like how the women are all in control and owning their sexual agency. It would be so easy to have something like the princess chained up naked in the dragon’s tower or something like that, but you allow these women to enjoy sex and to own their nudity.”

“A woman’s sexuality is an incredibly powerful thing,” Gold said. “Why do you think that everyone has always tried so hard to suppress it?”

Belle nodded her agreement. “Yes, that is an excellent point.” She looked again at the pictures. “No Snow White or Sleeping Beauty?”

“Slight consent problem there, trying to make those ones erotic. Especially considering the original Grimm tales.”

“What about Cinderella?”

Gold chuckled. “You’re very welcome to continue the series yourself if you wish. I’m happy to accept a collaborator.”

“No, I don’t think it would be the same, not being in your style. Mine’s bolder, yours is more delicate. It wouldn’t work. But…” Belle’s heart leapt to her mouth, unable to believe she was even thinking about making the suggestion. “I’d be happy to be your muse. I’d give you the ideas and pose for them, and you could put them into paintings for me.”

Gold looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“You’d pose for my erotic art?” he asked. There was a huskiness in his voice, a note of desire.

“I’ve posed nude for life drawing classes before,” Belle said.

“Ah, but this is very different.”

“I’m counting on it, Professor Gold.”

There was barely an inch between them now, and Belle could see the flecks of deep gold in his chocolate brown eyes.

“In that case, I’d be happy to accept your proposal,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, and Belle knew that they were talking about so much more than just posing for pictures. “My studio’s only a few minutes’ walk away, and I might expire from boredom if I have to spend any more time with these pretentious idiots.” He looked over his shoulder at the gallery owner. “Shall we get started right away?”

Belle nodded. “That sounds like an excellent idea to me.”

They left the gallery together, and they did not speak much as they covered the short distance to Gold’s studio. It was as if they both knew that the moment would only really begin once they were inside the space where the art would occur.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Gold asked. “Tea or coffee, perhaps, to counteract that rank excuse for champagne that they were serving at the gallery?”

“Tea sounds lovely, thank you.” Belle hung up her coat as Gold went over to the small kitchen area in the corner of the studio, filling the electric kettle and getting mugs and teabags. Belle had never been inside Gold’s studio before, and she wanted to treat this privileged occasion with the proper respect. There were all sorts of things lying around, props and furniture that models had posed with in the past, and of course, his actual works. She looked at the easel where a half-completed painting sat. It was another of the fairy tales, although it was not worked enough for Belle to identify it.

“It’s going to be the Princess and the Frog,” Gold called from the kitchen. “When I finish she’ll be wearing strategically placed lily pads over her essentials.”

Belle laughed as he brought the tea over, and she took a grateful sip. “How many will you do?”

“As many as strike my imagination. Of course, that may be more if you start giving me ideas as well. So…” He led her away from the easel to sit down on an old chaise longue. “Tell me about your vision of Cinderella.”

“Oh, it sounds so stupid now.” Belle looked into the depths of her tea, asking it to give her courage. “I just thought about the prince having a foot fetish.”

Gold gave a snort of laughter, but his dark eyes were in earnest, and Belle thought she could feel them staring into her very soul. God, part of her wanted to throw him down on this chaise and ride him as proudly as Red Riding Hood in her painting.

“Go on,” he said softly.

“They’re in the palace garden,” she said, her eyes never leaving Gold’s. “The clocktower in the background is showing quarter to midnight, or something like that.”

Gold put down his mug and grabbed a sketchpad, his pencil flying over the paper as he roughly outlined her vision.

“Yes?”

“They’re both naked, apart from the glass slippers. She’s sitting on a bench, or a swing seat, or something, and he’s sitting on the ground below her, worshipping her feet in these slippers. She’s enjoying it. Maybe touching herself whilst he’s preoccupied.”

“I see.” Gold’s thumbnail sketch continued to take shape, and Belle had to gasp at how much just the rough outlines were turning her on. Finally, he stopped, putting the sketchpad down between them.

“Something like that?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“That’s perfect,” Belle breathed.

“And you’d like to strike a pose for this?”

Belle nodded, putting her mug down on the floor beside Gold’s and standing up to unzip her dress, letting it fall to her ankles and kicking it off to one side. She’d gone braless beneath it, and her nipples hardened in the cool air of the studio, making her shiver. She rubbed her fingers over the little buds and moaned, before peeling her panties down her legs.

She left her shoes on, putting her hands on her hips and giving Gold her most sultry pout, letting him look his fill at her, hips pushed forward.

“Am I a good enough model for you, Professor Gold?”

“I don’t think there’s ever been a better one.”

She sat back down, hiking one heel up onto the chaise as she let her legs loll open, spreading her nether lips and touching herself languidly, although she could already feel the sweat beginning to shine on her skin. There was a ready wetness gathering at her entrance, and she rubbed it gently along her folds, circling her clit.

“Would this do?”

“Perfectly, Belle.” Gold was mesmerised by her, unable to tear his eyes away as he stood and began to undress until he was as unashamedly naked as she was. He was erect already, his cock jutting proudly in front of him, and he gave himself a couple of hard tugs as he knelt on the floor before her.

“Every princess needs her adoring prince,” he rasped, kissing along her inner thigh. “Not a foot man myself, though. No, I’m far more interest in this.”

He moved her hand and licked a stripe along her cleft, lapping eagerly at her swollen pearl. Belle cried out at the sensation, nails scrabbling for purchase on the back of the chaise as Gold continued to kiss and lick at her, now pushing his tongue into her entrance, now nuzzling at her patch of close trimmed hair, now flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit and making her scream again.

“Gold!”

He laughed, the sound vibrating against her over-sensitised folds, and he slipped one leg up over his shoulder, bringing him in closer. A finger pushed inside, curling in just the right place as his tongue kept up the relentless teasing of her clit.

Belle didn’t know what she yelled as the dam broke and she came apart for him. She only hoped that the other studios in the building weren’t occupied at this time in the evening. She came back down to herself as Gold pulled his finger out and let her leg slip down, sitting back on his heels and wiping his face clean, licking her juices off his hand.

“Much better than the champagne.”

“I’m glad you think so. Although now, I think it’s your turn.” She reached out, brushing her fingertips over the head of his cock as he got back to his feet. “Time for some adoration of your own.”

Gold sat back on the chaise beside her, and Belle leaned over his lap, gripping his cock tightly and taking the head in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and over it as she pumped his shaft.

“Sweet Jesus, Belle.” His hand tangled in her hair, and a glance upwards showed his eyes were closed, head thrown back with pleasure. She brought her other hand down to cradle his heavy balls, rolling them in her palm. “Fuck, Belle, I’m going to come!”

Belle let him slip from her mouth, giving him a couple of firm strokes to finish him off and make him come undone for her; he swore as he spurted over her hand.

For a long while they sat slumped on the chaise in the cooling, until Belle chanced to lean in and press her lips tentatively against Gold’s. Strange that they should share such carnal delights before even kissing, but Gold accepted her eagerly, pulling her in closer and running his hands gently over her bare back.

“You know,” Belle said, once they finally broke apart, “I have plenty more ideas for new paintings for you.”

Gold just growled, pulling her in for another kiss, and Belle smiled against his mouth. This was going to be the beginning of a wonderful partnership.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Belle French #Mr Gold #SFSS 2020 #Fic: Artistic Merit

22 notes · View notes

madamsixx · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond The Leather: Chapter 10: First Concert

July 31st, 1985 New York

Paparazzi had been following me everywhere I go. I now had security for my protection. I just finished shooting season two of the TV series I was on. And also finished the filming of the new movie I was in as well. The premiere will be out next year. My face was all over the billboards in New York and LA for the Sports Illustrated Magazine shoot. I was rising higher and higher and my fame was growing. I haven't spoken to Nikki since March and he has not even bothered to call and apologize for the way he treated me at that night club. There Theater of Pain album was released and they started touring. They were in New York today. How I know this.... well because I talk to Vince. And were meeting up for lunch today. Me and Vince have grown closer with each other. Were able to just have casual conversations and enjoy each others company. He's going to pick me up in his limo. I have so much to tell him.

"What are you wearing?" Lisa asks looking up at me from her magazine.

I met Lisa at the Modeling event back in March we became very good friends. Tamara allowed her to come on the New York trip with me on the condition that we stayed out of trouble. She of course agreed. Tamara had her own room right next to us. So she comes in and checks somtimes.

"It's a disguise. I'm meeting up with Vince for lunch and I don't want people seeing us." I put on a base ball cap and dark shades with a trench coat.

"You look ridiculous. And I'm sure people are still going to know it's you and Vince from Motley Crue." Lisa giggled.

"Well worth a try. Alright I'll see you later ok."

"Alright have fun with your boy friend."

"He is not my boyfriend." I sneered.

We met up and drove down to a pizza pizza. We decided to just order that and than go out to find a park to sit at and talk.

"Oh my God I haven't had junk food in a long long long time" I grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza and shoved it into my mouth.

"Ha well I eat junk all the time before I know it I will be overweight."

"No you won't you'll be fine. So what's going on with you?" I ask.

"Well I'm not really enjoying the tour. Nikki and Tommy have been dicks to me. They keep doing drugs and drinking in my face and chewing me out if I even have a drink. I'm so sick of it."

"That's really selfish of them. They should be supporting you. But at least your staying sober so thats a good thing. You have a clear mind."

"Yeah your right." Vince scoffed. "The whole album is shit. There are like two songs which are Smokin In The Boys Room and Home Sweet Home that are good. Everything else is bullshit. I don't even know how people don't see it."

"Im sorry to hear all that. How are the boys doing though?" I asked about the boys but who I mostly meant was Nikki.

"There doing ok. Mick is still crazy, Tommy is actually dating a nice girl Heather Locklear, and Nik-"

"Wait what?" I interrupted Vince.

"Yeah Tommy's dating Heather Locklear. I know its weird but honestly she really likes him."

This was shocking because Heather is a good girl like me and she's going to date a bad boy like Tommy.

"Wow this is shocking. I wouldn't have thought that she would want someone like Tommy." I stated.

"Guess you cant help who you like."

Yeah I guess you cant.

"So hows Nikki doing? You know he hasn't apologized for how he treated me at the Hollywood Palace in March."

"Well Niks uh Niks dating some girl named Nicole. She's some yuppie actress in the making." Vince says scratching his head.

I can't beleive this pig. After every thing that he has done to me he goes out and gets some other girl to be his girlfriend. He doesn't even call me to say he's sorry for what he did to me. And no im not jealous I'm just mad. Really mad.

"Oh, well good for... good for him." Is all that I could say.

"Iman remember he's not good for you. And to tell you the truth that girl Nicole is probably just Nikki's drug buddy."

"Yeah probably." I say with a low voice.

"But anyways what's new with you?"

"Well next month I'll be on the cover of Bazzars Fashion magazine. Well not just the cover the whole magazine. It will be about me. And then in September I'm walking my first runway. And it's all happening here in New York!" I screamed.

"Wow that's great Mani good for you. I would love to come."

"You just want to see the models Vince. You dont care about me at all."

"What?" Vince says with a pretend shocked voice. "I do too care about you. But I would also like to see the models." He laughs.

We finished eating and the limo dropped me back to my hotel. "Hey seeing as your still going to be here in August. We will be coming back to New York August 14 and we will be having a show at Madison Square Garden. You should come watch us. You have never seen us live. And this show is going to kick ass." He smiled.

"I'd love to Vince but Nikki- "

"Don't worry about Sixx he wont give you any trouble. I promise." Vince assured me.

"Ok, I will." I smiled.

I came up stairs and dropped my things and myself on the couch. I don't know why I agreed to go to that show. I should have said no. It will be awkward going if I had to see Nikki. But either way I will be in the audience and he will be on stage. There's no way he will see me. __________

Wednesday August 14, 1985 New York, Madison Square Garden

I put on a grey short dress with white tennis shoes and pink lip stick. I had my curled my hair to make it look fuller. I was into looking good especially because it made me feel good. Vince got two tickets for me because I told him I wanted to bring a friend. I was nervous and excited at the same time. Excited because I have never seen Motley Crue play at a concert before. And nervous because I would see Nikki. But to be honest I don't care much for him especially because he didn't apologize. We told Tamara that we were going to take a walk around town and she said it was alright.

"Do I look alright?" I looked over at Lisa who had two lines underneath her eyes like Nikki. She was a big Motley fan and a bigger Nikki fan. I never told her about the problems I had with Nikki. I wanted her to go to the show and just enjoy it without having any judgement.

"You look awesome. Alright we should get going the limo it will be here soon." I said.

We arrived at Madison Square Garden. It was complete anarchy out here. The paparazzi were going wild, the girls were half naked, and the fans were screaming out of there minds. It was total chaos. The chauffeur opened the door and security came to escort me and Lisa in.

"Is that Iman Darlington?" One reporter said. All of a sudden hundreds of reporters and paparazzi ran towards me snapping there cameras in my face as well as holding a microphone up to my face asking me several questions.

"Miss Darlington are you here for Nikki?" The reporter ask trying to shove pass security.

The security pushed the reporters back and got us in. "Oh my that was a lot." Lisa giggled.

"I know." I laughed.

We were escorted down the hall to the right side of the stage where we saw a big chubby guy with brown slick back hair standing there.

"Ah Miss Darlington right?" He held is hand out for me to shake.

"Hi yes." I shook his hand. "And you can call me Iman no need for the formalities." I smiled.

"Alright sounds good. I'm Doc Mcghee manager of Motley Crue."

"Its nice to meet you Doc. Oh this is my friend Lisa she's a model like me." I say pulling Lisa forward.

"Hi nice to meet you." She smiled.

"Alright let's get you girls to your area. I hope you ladies are coming to the after party tonight after the show?" He asked while walking us to our spots.

"Oh uh I dont know we'll see." I said.

We arrived at our spot and now it was just to wait for the show to begin. The crowd behind us were rowdy and jumping all over the place. I was very excited.

"Alright let's pose girl." Lisa brought out her camera and we posed by the stage.

Ladies and Gentlemen from Las Angeles's California, Please Welcome On Stage Motley Cruuuuuuuue!!!!

There was a loud bang and Vince came out jumping on stage with Mick and Nikki behind him. Tommy was hitting the drums with full force and the crowd was going wild. Vince started singing looks that kill.

Now listen up She's razor sharp If she don't get her way She'll slice you apart Now she's a cool, cool black She moves like a cat If you don't get her name Well you might not make it back

She's got the looks that kill, that kill She's got the looks that kill, that kill She's got the look

Me and Lisa were singing along to the song. We were having a blast. I looked at Tommy who was at the back drumming the hell out of the drums. He was honestly gifted because I tried using his drums and I really sucked. Then I turned my attention to Mick. He was spectacular with the rifts of his guitar. Hitting every note like his life depended on it. Then I looked to the front and Vince was singing and dancing around the whole stage. He was a very good hype man. He knew how to get the crowd going and keep them on there toes. And lastly Nikki, there he was jumping around the stage playing his bass. He had so much energy that I didn't even know where he got it from. But where ever it was from he was putting it to good use.

Vince came closer down to us and started singing into the mic. We smiled at him and he looked over at Lisa. I knew instantly he liked her. He sent her a wink and she started blushing. When I looked to the side I could see Nikki had come a bit closer his eyes went wide and his lips parted slightly when he saw me. His breathing even changed. I didn't know what to do when he saw me I froze a bit then looked away. Vince then moved away and went back to dancing on stage.

The show was finally over and I have to admit it was well worth coming. I was not disappointed at all.

"Oh my fucking God did you see that Vince winked at me ahhhhhhh!" She screamed. She started jumping up and down and hitting me at the same time.

"Hi ladies the boys are expecting you back stage now." The security said.

"But we didn't say we were-"

"Yes we did now let's go. Stop being a party pooper." Lisa pushed me to move through the doors leading to the hall of backstage.

We walked down the halls where we saw all the guitars and tech guys putting there stuff away. It was cool to see what happenes after the concerts behind closed doors. We arrived at a door and the security guard knocked on the door. "Yeah what?" It sounded like Tommy yelling. "Miss Darlington is here with her friend. "Oh shit really let her the fuck in!" Tommy yelled again. When we walked in my eyes went wide there were girls, booze, drugs and all the things that made a rock star a rock star. And the Motley boys were still in there stage clothes. They looked very funny.

"Iman fuck girl where have you been?" Tommy yelled running to me and picking me up.

"Woah T bone how are you?" I asked with my feet dangling in the air.

"I'm good dude shit it's been long. Look just cause you and Nikki have problems dosen't mean you should stay away." He stated.

I was alittle embarrassed when he said that, especially because I didn't tell Lisa about Nikki.

"No I've just been busy that's all T- bone. And I heard you have to with Heather Locklear?" I lifted and eyebrow.

"Fuck yeah man she's a good girl looking for a bad guy. I'll have to introduce you to her. But after the tour of course." Tommy said as he bit a beer can open and drank it from the side.

"Hey this is my friend Lisa." I said pulling her up beside me.

"Hey Lisa you love to party?" Tommy asked.

"Depends on what you got." She responded.

"Oh we got everything you need honey." Vince spoke up giving her a devilish grin. He then walked over and gave me a big hug I returned the hug. "Im glad you made it."

"I'm glad I did too the show was fun." I smiled. Then in walked Nikki with two girls on each side of him he looked at me but just walked right passed.

Rude!

"Hey kiddo long time." I turned to see Mick sitting on the chair behind Vince drinking the usual vodka.

"Hey Mick how are you doing?"

"Fucking fantastic." He said.

"So uh I'm gonna take your friend and show her around if you don't mind Mani?" Vince smiled while putting his arm around Lisa's neck.

"Uh sure just dont go too far were not staying long." I say walking over to sit beside Mick.

Tommy was still chatting it up with a bunch of groupies even though he was seeing Heather and Nikki was just making out with a bunch of girls.

"So you and Nikki got into a fight or somthing?" Mick asks looking at me. I cant beleive that Mick dosen't party like these guys. Maybe it's cause he older and more wiser.

"Somthing like that. He was aggressive towards me at the last club we went to. I think I'm just going to stay away from him for now on." I say crossing my legs and looking down.

"That's the smartest idea you can ever have. Nikki is crazy and not in a good way. He's a lost cause and needs some help."

"Well I don't know about the lost cause thing, but I agree with you on the crazy." I laughed.

I noticed that everyone, including the tech guys, the managers, and basically Motley's whole team were doing drugs. So I wasn't surprised that the boys have gotten into it. I thought it was really sad. They are a good band, but the drugs wont let them last long.

"Oh here comes your friend." Mick pointed over to Lisa and Vince walking back.

"Hey girly." She slurred. "Me and Vince had a great time." She smiled.

"I'm sure you did." I chuckled.

"Don't worry I didn't get her completely wasted this is the party before the after party. And that's gonna be big." Vince giggled.

"Uh yeah no were not going to that. This is enough." I said as a matter of fact getting off the chair.

"Oh come on Mani you'll have loads of fun trust me." Vince put his arm around my shoulder.

"Well the way Nikki is looking at me says other wise." I grabbed Vince's chin and directed him to look at Nikki. At this point, Nikki is standing up leaning on the counter with his head tilted back slightly with an unamused look on his face. His hands are in front of his stomach and he looks like he's about to knock someone out. I have to admit he looks good in his stage outfit. He's wearing a white and black outfit with a rose sticking out of the pocket. With his war paint under his eyes. Can he be any hotter.

I yelped when somone grabbed me and picked me up and threw me over they're shoulder. "Ahhh oh my God T- bone put me down!" I yelled.

"Only if you say your coming." He yelled and started swinging me around over his shoulder.

My dress started hiking up and my panties were showing. I started trying to pull them down from behind. Then every one started whistling and laughing it was embarrassing.

"T- bone put me down pl-"

"T- bone put her fucking down now!" Nikki yelled interrupting me.

The whole place went silent with Nikkis loud voice. It was like a grave yard.

"I'm sorry Sixx I was only joking around with her." Tommy said with a low voice putting me down. "Sorry Mani I was only joking."

"I know you were." I giggled. I looked over at Nikki who sat back down and started drinking his jack.

"But for reals you should come it will be fun. Plus I'm sure your friend over here." Tommy grabs Lisa. "Is dying for some fun as well." Lisa stands beside him and smiles. Then Vince comes and smiles beside them too. They looked like fools.

"Pleeeeeeeease." They all say at once.

"Fine. But the moment anything starts going wrong were leaving." I say with a serious voice.

Doc came in and told the boys they had to go back to they're hotels to change for the after party.

"Alright we can send a limo to pick you girls up at 10." T- bone said.

"Sounds great come on Mani we should go get changed too." Lisa smiled.

I looked at Nikki who was staring right back at me. I didn't know if I should walk up to him and say something. But I don't think he wants to talk to me anyways. When he came in he walked right passed me. I'll just leave it alone. "Let's go." I said to Lisa as we walked out.

This night is going to continue on to the next chapter. Hope you guys are enjoying the story.

#nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars #motley crue #the dirt #80s #90s #rock an roll

4 notes · View notes