[herakl]

  #HERAKL: SHOW ME YOUR THORNS , AND I'LL SHOW YOU HANDS READY TO BLEED .

 

[nyxvuxoa]

Aaron Taylor-Johnson as Sergei Kravinoff ⤷ Kraven the Hunter | dir. J. C. Chandor

[celcstine]

closed starter   for   : 𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞   𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧 & 𝗹𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗱   𝗲𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻 location :  𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥   𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

"  say  goodnight  to  your  uncle  .  "  by  pure  chance  the  crown  princess  and  youngest  eissen  prince  had  stumbled  upon  each  other  as  she  was  bringing  her  children  to  their  chambers  .  in  truth  ,  the  man  before  her  was  as  foreign  as  his  sisters  but  he  did  resemble  her  husband  in  certain  mannerisms  and  aspects  .  she'd  always  been  weary  of  him  however  ,  a  man  of  his  father  ,  once  sworn  sword  in  his  kings  guard  and  trained  in  the  eissen  way  .  perhaps  she  found  him  suspicious  simply  because  she'd  kept  her  distance  .  "  harmin  wondered  if  you  would  perhaps  show  him  some  of  your  swords  skills  tomorrow  ,  if  it's  not  too  much  to  ask  .  "

@herakl

[herakl]

niece and nephew expose a complex dichotomy in well-kept chest, undying devotion complimented by prolific sense of incapacity. failure. they are the best his blood has to offer, the future of this kingdom - the best of reasons for brothers eissen to heal and preserve what had been destroyed by the generations before them. but shadowed side of this inevitable brightness: they should have grown hand-in-hand with the blood of leopard prince and princess. undeniable proof of life beyond the grave princess now rots within. this, by no fault of the children; will never cause them to bear the weight of his own inadequacy. an unequal suffering leo knows all too well. a goodnight kiss to the top of princess' head and handshake offered to heir, then turns attention to the tepid affections of brother's wife. leo smiles, nods deferentially. still warmed by the presence of a naive virtue he'd never been able to claim. " to the contrary. i believe you ask too little, princess. " takes a few slow steps, guiding the pair back down the corridor. " does young harmin train with the swordmaster? "

[dailyflicks]

LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON 1957 — dir. Billy Wilder

[herakl]

the distant gardens,   fountain at the center of this place of worship. the encircling trees witness your blasphemy, but so do a pair of pale blue eyes, @felldivine.

grown used to the copper taste of death sinking down his throat, but cannot - will never be accustomed to phantom wisteria that clings to him like a funeral veil. always present, but in the days since lord haojing's lost his head to impatient blade, its demanded an attention that unspools prince's unfragile sanity with delicate fingers. sweetly. knows it has an entire lifetime to incite a madness devoted to strong, restless men who could not save their wives from enerin's selfish starving. a madness that draws him from his chambers, wine that dizzied but did not cure, into the thorned arms of that same god. a parasitic, white-knuckled love; repulsive. feet carried to the center of its own worship, where cool water streams, ripples down carved marble; where even a knight is oft felled to his knees. where his wife had bowed her head before their vows. where now, a woman is bathing in its shrewd depths. leonid's fingers, half-moon nails curl into broad palms, irate affectation muted only by the distance between them. chin, voice lifts ( gives him away ), " are the accommodations in your chambers so unsatisfactory, nymph? "

[theoptia]

Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life

Text ID: My death is a little beast inside me and we live together in perfect harmony.

[brielarsonist]

REBECCA FERGUSON as LADY JESSICA DUNE (2021) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[freudarchives]

“I am the one who was crucified for you. I have known hunger and thirst for you; and I shed my blood for you. I have loved you so much.”

Angela of Foligno, Memorial (Translated by Paul Lachance, OFM). 

[petaltexturedskies]

The night outside was like a dark, heavy, perfumed flower. An expectant night—a night when things intended to happen. Very still. Only the loveliest of muted sounds—the faintest whisper of trees, the airiest sigh of wind, the half-heard, half-felt moan of the sea.

L.M. Montgomery, Emily’s Quest

[bruce-slutsteen]

monkey man (2024) dir. dev patel // "it will come back" (2014) hozier

[herakl]

prince's private gardens,  enjoying the unripe coolness of the day yet to come with @mournslove.

" if i didn't know better, i would admit to witnessing your hand twitch for the executioner's blade, " he slouches back in high-backed chair, broad shoulders hugging the inside of either plush wing as a thumb absently spins aureate wedding band around his smallest finger. one of few nervous habits; only she and her raven hair ( forever tightening bond, demanding shared omniscience fore only ascribed to twins ) would recognize its variable weight. oppressive absence of second prince's own wife shift over pale eyes; waves pushed and pulled by gravity of high king's brash call to arms. waits for the quip he knows hangs on the tip of her tongue. the same that he would wear, had she noticed his reflexes enacting the same treasonous impulse.

[herakl]

leo's chambers,   memory still caked with the blood of a man whose innocence has written itself, @fyrebloods.

even after the events of the throne room, death occurs to the knighted eissen as it always has: not a misfortune, but an inevitability. lingers apathetically around every blind corner and down steep, winding steps, impatient when a man closes his eyes to sleep, screaming like a northern wind in open battle. never silent - never absent, claws never dulled. unfortunate that ruling lord haojing should feel that hot breath on the back of his neck turn to whetted iron; the reason for the inauspicious spare goblet sat on the mantle inside prince's chambers, three-fingers full of the same sweet wine leo now pours into a second and third. " I'm surprised isolde let you out of her sight tonight, brother. " hands one cup to the other; waits for young god's fingers to secure grasp before touching its edge with that of his own cup. the glass tinkles merrily; leo drinks, jaw coiled with unspoken disagreeableness. " how does she fare ? "

[exfortunas-archived]

closed. @herakl.

fear was a dangerous, unpredictable beast to bare openly -- lessened in the palms of those who would seek to comfort, fuel for those who would twist and wield it to their own advantage. sharp, relentless as some of their past encounters may have been, ariadne knew it to be safe with him. her intuition had not once failed her in her lifetime thus far -- but she did not wish to test its limits, and so she gave but fragments of herself to the lover of the undesirable house eissen. tonight, she had given more, inadvertently, as it had poured from her much like the bloodspill of one condemned haojing. violets, wide and terrified, had locked with those of pale blue. a familiar colour, intriguing, but in that very moment, she had sought to find but one thing in them.

a wish he had granted her -- reassurance, dispelling mind-numbing dread, with the miniscule shake of his head. barely more than a flinch, and surely most would have dismissed it as such. a shake of his head, to assure her it was not the head of house devara that would be taken. were she in any position to kindle the usual fire in her belly, she would find fault with leonid, give way to indignation that she had been placed at the eissen's mercy in the first place.

as it was, she was tired when he found her at last. "your gesture in the throne room," the sereen lit one candle after another, lingering, letting flame lick skin. it never left a mark. "well-intentioned as it may have been, it was a gamble."

[herakl]

was he meant to endure her pain - suffering he was capable of staunching with twitch of sinewy muscle of his neck, imprecise frown shifting imperceptibly? even the weight of four dozen pairs of eyes couldn't strangle his dogged, deeply selfish instinct to relieve misery lodged necessarily in his own throat. uncharacteristic vulnerability disappeared, and his own affection-spoiled faculties found momentary relief. is that not his reason for existence? to resolve, cure, and if all else fails, to temper. yes ... foreign to do so without a sword clamped between callused fingers, meat of sun-shy palm. but there's very little he wouldn't do to be granted entry to sereen's chambers, clement reassurance only she can give him on the tip of sly tongue.

doors shut behind him, thumb of one hand lazily tucking into the black leather strapped around his middle. hilt of his sword, dawnbringer, skims the sharp strength of his hip where he stands. waits, as if open-handed, for her appreciation. .. it doesn't come, not in so many words. chin tilts upward, more hint of pride humming over shadowed gaze as he observes her ritual of skin grazing flame. finds he's holding his breath. muscles coiled, leopard's instincts itching to draw her away from open flame. tightly, pale gaze focused on unburnt hand,

" you would prefer I avert my gaze, then. ignore you as I ignore the others. " wonders, briefly, if she believes him capable of such a departure. if she believes it so easy to deny himself of her. " your blood already believes me damned. without my soul, what have I left to risk? "

[herakl]

lady's quarters,   a hint past the pale blue of dawn. the sun is thus far absent, sleep still raw in many a noble's eyes, when a prince asks to bear a fresh injury to @sanctismaledis.

sitting forward in a high-backed chair, leo unwinds gossamer wrapped judiciously beneath underarm and over broad shoulder ( reluctant wince pinched between mouth and sleepless eyes as shoulder jostles ). pale, blossoming red tinges the lowest layers before thin fabric stumbles dully to ceagoan tile. unveils: a thin cut in the soft meat of the front of his shoulder, no longer than the length of his little finger. a longsword injury, hardly the first she's seen him bear. " you must have sensed my coming in your dream, if you were already awake at such an hour, " murmurs, gaze dropped to observe injury. experimentally flexes shoulder muscle, triggering a precise and immediate pain to rocket down the front of his bicep. molars tighten. looks to his hands, already tightened into white-knuckled fists. unwilling to look vulnerability in the eye so early.

[herakl]

breakfast in the gardens,   the morning after the beheading. flora is particularly bright, sweet. pale yellow sun quivers through gently quivering green leaves, pleasantly illumining @proelium.

upon his exit onto the terrace, young prince observed a scant few present to witness the morning's ritual: indulging in wine and swollen-sweet fruit, pastry and sweetmeat expertly crafted. for the span of just a few heavy heartbeats, contemplates whether it's simply stomachs which have turned, or minds ... a train of thought that quickly loses traction as gaze falls upon celesaria. slow to sit directly on her right - this unexpected, not-quite bittersweet addition to the full plate now placed before him. several moments without recognition as napkin settles on knee. rounded knife meets saccharine flesh of green melon, its iron teeth effortlessly carving a slick chasm as fork separates the piece into bite-sized halves. then, " i should think to find you in the prayer room this morn, liege godefray. " fork, now man's teeth pierce the offering, halving the half. even a carnivore might bear the markings of a gentleman. tips his gaze toward her, curiosity only hinted at within dark brow.

[filmgifs]

CASABLANCA 1942 — dir. Michael Curtiz

[flowerytale]

Ottessa Moshfegh, from My Year of Rest and Relaxation