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aion-rsa · 3 years

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The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

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This Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone analysis contains spoilers.

The ending will be discussed at length. If you haven’t seen it, I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. Find the film, watch it with fresh eyes, then come back and celebrate The Death of Michael Corleone.

“The power to absolve debt is greater than the power of forgiveness,” Michael Corleone observes in the revelatory new opening of Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. He may well be speaking for Francis Ford Coppola. The Godfather Part III concluded the family saga, made a profit for Paramount Pictures, and garnered seven Oscar nominations in its time, but Coppola has never been forgiven for it. The 1990 film has such an undeserved reputation, it almost feels like there was a vendetta against it. Having seen the new cut several times, the director can finally be absolved of sins he never committed.

Coppola’s finale has been bashed for its structure. Critics said he was just going through the motions and the arc of the first two films, and doing it much too slowly. However, the filmmaker was making one long film, and this is the conclusion. It references the other two films because the reality which forms this family history is well known. It is canon, the arcs are similar because each film dissembles William Shakespeare’s King Lear. The Godfather, Part III also has the balls to wear its opera cape up front, and it’s a Sicilian one. But does it move as slow as critics accused? We get an ear bite in the first quarter, a helicopter mass execution, and enough intrigue for three Hitchcock films.

The Godfather, Coda is not much different than The Godfather Part III. Coppola only cut five minutes from the 162 minutes of the original. But like a good haircut, it makes a difference, even though I think he took too much off the top. The streamlining speeds it up and makes it feel more tragic. Michael’s regrets are palpable, the dangers he and his family face are recognizable. It’s the same movie but tighter. The Godfather and The Godfather Part II are perfect films, like Casablanca or Citizen Kane, not a single scene is less than flawlessly framed, acted, and situated. The third one is a little sloppy. It happens. Martin Scorsese’s Mean Streets is sloppy and works perfectly because of it. To this writer, Mean Streets packs more of an emotional punch than Goodfellas, which is also cinematic perfection from setup to cut. The Godfather III is rough around the edges.

Coppola loves the editing room as much as any wine vineyard. He recut Apocalypse Now Redux, and added scenes which may not have been imperative, but are wholly welcome. Coppola filled in the storyline to The Cotton Club for his reworking. When The Godfather trilogy was recut and re-released as a seven-hour chronological saga, it was like hearing the Beatles’ White Album with discarded tracks included. Scenes which landed on the cutting room floor were put back in. The Godfather, Coda takes scenes out. We get less of Eli Wallach’s Machiavellian cannoli-lover Don Altobello, which is a shame because his performance has grown on me since my initial viewing. Coppola also cuts Talia Shire’s Connie Corleone when she goes full-on Lucretia Borgia, ordering an execution in a chapel.

The Godfather Part III is the purest of the saga’s films in terms of cinematic input. The first film was a masterful adaptation of Mario Puzo’s book. The second one also drew heavily from the book. By the third, the motion picture saga was on its own. Part III was also the first of the films which didn’t have the Godfather himself, Vito Corleone, in it. Marlon Brando’s performance is more than iconic; it is Americana itself. Robert De Niro bridges generations as the young Vito in The Godfather Part II. Al Pacino’s Michael is the only godfather here.

“The Pope, the Holy Father, on this very day has blessed Michael Corleone. You think you know better than the Pope?”

The original cut of The Godfather Part III opens on the flooded Corleone compound in Lake Tahoe and dissolves to Old St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Lower Manhattan’s Little Italy. The Godfather, Coda opens with a low-angle establishing shot of the exterior of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It looks like a relic of another time. It is surrounded by the cold steel and glass of modern architecture. The midtown cathedral represents old money.

The first scene is a meeting between Michael Corleone and head of the Vatican Bank, Archbishop Gilday (Donal Donnelly). The Vatican is selling controlling shares in real estate conglomerate Internazionale Immobiliare to the Corleone family. These details don’t come out until 30 minutes into The Godfather Part III. By now putting the Vatican meeting at the beginning, followed by the Vito Corleone Foundation celebration, it fits better into the structure of The Godfather, and gives the proper weight to the deals with the Holy Roman Church.

The scene also reestablishes the Corleones as a family of great wealth. They have so much money they can bail out the Vatican. We don’t know how they made that money; we get very little detail about the years between The Godfather Part II and the late 1970s, when The Godfather, Coda is set.

We assume the Corleones had nothing to do with heroin, probably sidestepped any involvement in the Kennedy assassination, and stuck with the traditional vices, which could be best maneuvered into real power. We can imagine a Hoffa scenario because of their union involvement, but we get little indications of business beyond the chase for legitimacy. With this deal, Michael will be one of the wealthiest men in the world.

Moving the meeting also casts the archbishop in the same role that the funeral director played in the opening scene of The Godfather. The priest’s favor becomes his regret, but in a way that inverts the structure of the original film. The funeral director came to Don Corleone seeking justice after chasing the American dream, believing in it with all his soul as much as he believed in holy Mary, mother of God.

Archbishop Gilday’s impossible dream is to turn that around, to siphon the American success of the Corleone family back to Italy, after skimming his part, of course. Michael is awarded the Order of St. Sebastian from the Catholic Church after the charity run by his daughter Mary (Sofia Coppola) donates $100 million to the institution. Immobiliare is the other side of the coin, and it is a beautiful flip.

The move also fits the film closer to the original 1972 classic, positioning the Vito Corleone Foundation ceremony as the wedding scene, and introducing us to the players, and the ones who don’t play well with others. Joe Mantegna plays Joey Zasa, who is a stand-in for the John Gotti ascendancy, running Don Corleone’s old territory now that the family has moved up. Eli Wallach ties us into the family behind the family. Vincent Mancini is the bastard son of Sonny Corleone and his mistress Lucy. Actor Andy Garcia clearly enjoys this part. He turns into James Caan a few times.

Sofia Coppola’s performance has been called flat, amateurish, and not in the same universe as the rest of the film. Mary is an important part. For most of the audience, she is the most recognizable character as far as an entry into the world of the underworld. Sofia did it because her father needed her, and quickly. Winona Ryder’s unexpected bout of physical exhaustion didn’t fit with Paramount’s time schedule, and the studio’s replacement options didn’t fit the age of the character.

Coppola’s 18-year-old daughter, Sofia, still had baby fat on her face. She’d made appearances in Rumble Fish and Peggy Sue Got Married, and was used to working with her father, even though she was not an actor. European filmmakers cast non-actors all the time; they bring a real quality to roles. Lenny Montana, who played Luca Brasi in The Godfather, was a former wrestler who came to the set as the bodyguard of a ranking Colombo family member. Martin Scorsese’s mother Catherine makes an appearance in The Godfather Part III. Sofia is playing herself, a college freshman who wants to help her father.

This makes the gnocchi scene feel almost uncomfortably incestuous. Mary is Vincent’s first cousin, and we can see in the way they look at each other; it’s wrong even though it feels so right. Sofia is natural in her scenes, not emotive. She is the tourist the audience needs to circumnavigate the treacherous waters. Mary is the civilian who becomes the collateral damage of the Corleone family life. She takes the bullet intended for her father, Don Michael Corleone. Sofia did the same for her father, becoming the scapegoat for a job she took to get his movie in on time.

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Mary’s death scene has been called the worst in the history of motion pictures. It never was, and as presented in the recut, it’s entirely, emotionally effective. It’s not Bette Davis in Dark Victory, and even though it happens on the stone steps of a church, it isn’t James Cagney’s death scene in The Roaring Twenties. It isn’t meant to be. It is sad. The death itself is one of the most underplayed in film, but the music gives it the tragedy to match Michael’s reaction.

It is hard to resist the pull of the music when considering how much of a worthy ending this cut is to The Godfather saga. The themes are the trilogy’s blood and wine. Composer Nino Rota tells us when to celebrate and how to mourn. We relive Michael’s lost love Appollonia more through our ear’s memory than we do from the faded black and white photograph in the old Sicilian villa. And his reunion with Kay evokes the post-war era they met in. The music ties the film together so beautifully that this time around it feels like the skin of the original, rather than its clothes.

By the end of the film, the emperor has no clothes. Michael thinks he can break a glass ceiling through legitimate business but admits “The higher I go, the crookeder it becomes.” Senators and presidents have men killed. The church is no different. Legitimacy is an illusion. Coppola saw The Godfather Part III as an epilogue. Paramount wanted to grow a franchise. Coppola had to be persuaded to make a sequel to the first film. Paramount wanted Coca-Cola instead of wine. And they treated The Godfather Part III like the Fredo of Godfather movies.

Fredo is all over this film. How he died is the first question Mary asks Vincent. It’s the last rite in Michael’s confession to the Vatican priest who will become Pope, a scene which contains one of the funniest exchanges in the film. Michael tells Cardinal Lamberto (Raf Vallone) a list of his sins would take up too much time. The first cut may have been the deepest, but the final cut in The Godfather, Coda is the most ironic. Coppola adds the subtitle, in quotations, apart from the puppeteer logo of the films and book, and then takes exactly that promise away.

The final scene cut from The Death of Michael Corleone is the death of Michael Corleone.

The Godfather Part III ends as Michael is sitting alone outside a villa in Sicily. All family debts have been settled, but he has no family left. He is wearing dark glasses, slumps in his chair, loses his grip on the orange in his lap, and falls dead to the ground. Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone ends, not only with him still alive, but wishing him Cent’anni, telling the audience it means “for long life” and reminding viewers “a Sicilian never forgets.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The phrase actually translates to 100 years. Imagine how many Godfather sequels could be made in that time. Michael is left alive, alone. Atonement is beyond him. He loses his family just as he is on the precipice of finally being able to give them what they need. But the coda to Mario Puzo’s The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is an allegory to what Paramount wanted, more life. Yes, Al Pacino’s Don Michael Corleone spent all this time waiting for them to pull him back in.

The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is available now on Blu-ray and digital.

The post The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More appeared first on Den of Geek.

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grelleswife · 4 years

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All of the wedding questions for whatever pairing you want! :D -red-butler

Doing these for Sebagrelle (my You Reap What You Sow AU), because why start another fic when I can answer asks about it instead? XD

1.) Who proposes? Where do they propose? What does the ring look like? Do they both have engagement rings?

Sebastian. The funny thing is that it actually took him a few decades to propose. Demons don't have the same concept of "marriage" as humans; once you've found your mate(s) and claimed them as yours (usually done by means of biting/blood drinking), that settles the matter. Ronald, Eric, and Othello had to take him aside and explain that Grelle was waiting for him to pop the question--a lady needs a proper wedding! He proposes to her one night in Paris, during dinner on a rooftop overlooking the city (twinkling lights below, stars overhead). The ring is an obsidian band with a ruby (cut into the shape of a rose) in the center, and Sebastian's demonic seal is engraved on the inside. Sebastian has one as well, but the color scheme is reversed (black obsidian rose in a red band).

2.) What theme are they going for? Outdoorsy? Tropical vacation? Maybe a club theme?

A beautiful spring wedding outdoors. Houses of worship aren't ideal for Sebastian for obvious reasons. It's a grand affair with feasting, dancing, and flowers everywhere.

3.) Who spends the most time picking out their dress/suit? Do they want something simple, or do they want something custom and extravagant?

These two aren't modest; the more extravagant, the better! Grelle spends more time on her dress, though. It takes a week of searching for her to select a suitable red wedding dress. Sebastian wears a black suit, but the gender presentation is a bit mixed (i.e. it has a long, flowing train, there's some lace trim), and he's wearing a headdress of his own. Maybe something a bit like this, but with a black veil covering his face?

4.) What dessert do they choose? Cannolis? Ice cream sundaes? A classic cake? What flavour do they pick? Is there more than one dessert?

RED velvet cake! It's a massive one with twelve tiers. There's also cherry pie, decorative red velvet cupcakes, and lots of French desserts!

5.) How many people do they both invite? Immediate family and a few close friends, or cousins, second cousins, and A’s aunt’s best friend’s sister?

Grelle invites her true friends at dispatch, such as Ronald, Eric, Alan, and Othello. At this point, she's gained wider acceptance among the reapers, so she would have a decent number of co-workers she could invite. The humans Sebastian knew have died, and he doesn't really have friends in hell. But he has his wife, and that's the important thing!

6.) Who are the groomsmen/bridesmaids? How many are there? Are they all matching exactly or do they have a few personal touches to their outfits?

Hmm...I'm not sure they have any, to be honest. Grelle doesn't want any other ladies up there stealing her spotlight!

7.) Who is the best man and/or maid of honour?

Maybe Ronald. He's loyal to his senpai and knows her well after working by her side all these years.

8.) Who’s walking down the isle? Who’s walking them? Does either of them start to get emotional as they see their future spouse for the first time in a day?

Grelle! Maybe Pops Anderson walks her down? I could see an AU where he's more of a father figure to the younger reapers.They both get emotional! Grelle cries throughout the ceremony (it's a good thing she wore waterproof makeup), and even Sebastian gets teary-eyed when he sees how beautiful she is.

9.) Does anyone object or not approve of the marriage? If so, are they shunned and kicked out for speaking out against their love?

There are people at dispatch who think Grelle's insane or a pervert for taking a demon as her lover, but none of them have the guts to show up and voice those objections to Grelle's face.

10.) Do they stumble or get nervous saying their vows? Does the other get emotional hearing the other say such sweet words to them?

Neither does, but the tears are flowing freely. :')

11.) Best man’s / maid of honour speech. Is it all sappy and serious, or does it have some humour and sweetness to it? Are they nervous? Are they proud?

Ron's a dork, so he's a little all over the place: Some humor, some slip-ups when he drops his notes, etc., but it's sincere and heartfelt!

12.) How do they do on their first dance? Is it all quiet and romantic or do they just try to have a good time, laughing and dancing through the room?

It's exuberant! Grelle got the wedding and the husband/wife she always dreamed of, and she wants to flaunt it before the world!

13.) Do they immediately leave for their honeymoon the day after, or do they push it to perhaps the week after to prepare and just live their life as a newly wed couple? Where is the honeymoon taking place? How long do they stay?

They head off the next day for a grand trip through Europe (Paris, Prague, Venice, the works). Probably lasts at least a month.

14.) Do they enjoy opening their gifts or do they just ask for money to buy their own things?

They both love attention, so getting gifts is a important part of the fun!

15.) How do they wake up every morning after, knowing they’re married to the person they love the most?

Sebastian doesn't sleep, but he never gets tired of contemplating Grelle's beauty while she sleeps (that is his WIFE! And she LOVES him even though he's demon trash!). Waking up to Sebastian's smile is one of Grelle's favorite parts of the day. She'll usually snuggle closer to give him a kiss, which inevitably makes him purr. >w<

16.) When they grow old together, will they reminisce about their wedding day? Perhaps they dig up some old photos to look at. Will they try and see if they still fit into their suits/dresses?

Of course! They keep a large album with dozens of photos and enjoy perusing them together when they're thinking about times gone by.

#sebagrelle #kuro asks #thanks for the asks!#wedding asks #❤️🖤

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jovialyouthmusic · 5 years

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Bastien Undercover

What goes on under the sharp grey suit of the Head of the King’s Guard? All will be revealed...as part of @bobasheebaby and my ‘Bastien’s Underwear Challenge

Word Count 2500

A/N Please note the picture centre top and keep it in mind for the story below. No warnings - just a little suggestive, some fluff.

Brief Encounter

Sophia heard a knock on the door of the suite she and Bastien shared at the Palace, and went to investigate. Bastien was doing his physio in their new improvised gym and was not likely to emerge for at least another ten minutes for his shower. It was internal mail, and she discovered a package addressed to her lover. She took it with a smile and set it on the coffee table, going into the little kitchenette to make another pot of coffee ready for Bastien. He emerged a little while later just as she poured some for herself, the back of his t shirt damp with sweat, a towel around his neck, mopping his forehead. He raised his eyebrows at the parcel, a strange expression on his face.

‘I won’t kiss you, I’m all sweaty’ he said, passing the parcel, somehow unable to tear his eyes away from it. ‘When did that come?’

‘Just now – there’s coffee for you when you’ve showered, agápe mou’ He disappeared toward the bathroom and Sophia sat with her cup of coffee, looking curiously at the package. The address label was printed, so it must be some sort of purchase. There was no clue as to where it came from. It wasn’t Bastien’s birthday or hers, so her interest was piqued. She picked it up and gave it a squeeze. It was soft.

‘Sophia?’ She jumped violently as Bastien entered, freshly showered and wearing a bathrobe.

‘Oh – I was just…’ He swooped on her and tried to take the parcel, but she held on to it.

‘This looks interesting – what is it?’ she asked. Strangely he coloured a little

‘It’s personal’ he said ‘and private’ He pulled it from her grasp ‘You’ll find out soon enough. Now where’s that drink?’ Sophia slumped in defeat and got up to pour him his morning coffee.

------

Later that day, Sophia returned to the suite after going for a spa visit with Olivia. The parcel had disappeared without a trace, and she wondered why Bastien was being so secretive. She didn’t have long to wait before he returned from his meeting with Lewis, and he kissed her fondly as she greeted him.

‘Dress for dinner, we’re going out tonight to a little Italian restaurant I know in town’

‘Oh? Sophia replied ‘Are we meeting anyone else?’

‘No, just you and me – it’s a date’ he smiled, and brought his mouth to her ear ‘and you may get lucky afterwards’ She shivered in anticipation and he patted her backside as he made his way to the bedroom ‘Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll change’

‘Oh, I don’t need to shower’ she said ‘I’ve been to the spa, remember? We can change together’ Bastien frowned.

‘You go ahead and change, I’ve just got a few papers to see to’ She pouted

‘I thought you said you’d leave work at the door’ she protested

‘It’s just a small thing, I forgot to take some things down to the office earlier, it won’t take long.’ Sophia went through to the bedroom and opened her wardrobe, looking through her dresses and wondering what to wear. Eventually she picked out a sleeveless turquoise dress that showed enough cleavage without being indecent, figure hugging above the waist but with a bit of room below to allow for a bit of food belly. She wasn’t going to overeat though, as even though she would be working it off pretty quickly if Bastien’s promise came through, sex on a full stomach was not comfortable.

She picked out a suitable bra and wondered whether to bother with panties at all, but decided on a thong and hold up stockings. Bas would go crazy when he realised, and she wondered if they would even get to the restaurant before they had to let their hands do the talking. Perhaps she would tell him after they’d eaten.

She was aware of him coming into the room and going to his underwear drawer. He fumbled around, then loudly proclaimed

‘I’ll shower now, you don’t need to go in the bathroom, do you?’ Sophia was rummaging around in her makeup bag.

‘No it’s fine, go ahead’ she said absently, though she knew he was acting oddly. She turned to look at him and he swiftly turned away as though he was hiding something, quickly leaving the room. Still intrigued, she waited a moment then crept after him, foiled as he heard the lock engage on the bathroom door. She sighed and went back to finish getting ready.

------

Bastien had arranged for one of the younger guards to drive them to the restaurant, and they had a pleasant meal. The staff knew him well and treated them like honoured guests. Sophia ordered pasta with kalamari and indulged in a scoop of gelato afterwards. They gazed at each other adoringly over spoonfuls of the iced dessert, Sophia feeding Bastien.

‘We could order some cannoli to take home’ she said in a sultry tone. Bastien leaned closer

‘Trust me, we don’t need it, ’ he said ‘It was great as a jump start after our little famine, but tonight I have something else to interest you’

‘I’m wearing stockings’ she whispered, and Bastien’s eyebrows shot up. He reached into his jacket pocket for his credit card.

‘Check please’ he called, rising to his feet as fast as his injured leg allowed.

------

They got a taxi back, as they could fool around in the back more easily than if it was one of Bastien’s men driving. Immediately they set off, his hand wandered up Sophia’s thigh to feel for the top of her stocking, groaning with pleasure.

‘You do things to me that shouldn’t be legal’ he murmured in her ear, and angled his body so he could nip at her collarbone. Hands wandered and lips roamed as they drove back to the palace, the sexual tension between the two lovers thick enough to cut with a knife.

‘You said you had a surprise for me’ Sophia said as they disentangled themselves as the taxi went through security at the Palace gate, so that by the time they drew up into the staff courtyard they were respectable, clothes straightened and neat.

‘Patience, theá mou, you’ll find out soon’ They made their way back to their suite, Sophia pulling him into an alcove along the way to kiss him again, then giggling as she easily raced ahead of him up the stairs.

‘Wait for me Sophia’ he grumbled, fumbling with his cane and cursing his injury ‘or so help me I’ll spank you when I catch up with you’

‘Promise?’ she laughed, and was ready for him inside the door of the suite, leaning against the wall and pulling him against her. ‘I can’t wait any longer’ she breathed ‘What’s my surprise?’ He pressed her to the wall with a scorching kiss, again reaching for the top of her stocking and snapping it against her skin so that she gave out a little yelp.

‘Follow me’ he commanded, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom ‘Sit down and watch’ he said, and she did as she was told, biting her lip and fixing her eyes on him. He took his jacket off and hung it casually on the back of the chair, continuing to undress smoothly and sensuously. She caught her breath at the familiar but still highly stimulating sight of his chest and abs. He had kicked off his shoes and balled up his socks to the laundry basket, and paused with his fingers ready to undo his belt and zipper. She squirmed a little with anticipation, noticing that unsurprisingly his pants were already tenting impressively.

As he unzipped his pants she caught her breath again and he let them drop to the floor, heavy with his belt. She gasped. Instead of his usual plain black or navy briefs, he wore a pair of multicoloured boxer briefs, straining at holding their contents. They hugged his contours snugly, and he turned, showing her the curve of his firm buttocks and studying her expression expectantly. Her mouth hung open in amazement for a moment before she managed to speak.

‘Bas – what are those?’ He frowned.

‘Do you like them?’ he asked

‘Is the pope a Catholic?’ she asked, awestruck ‘Those are spectacular. Why haven’t you worn anything like this before?’

‘It didn’t feel right for work’ he said ‘Now I’m taking a less active role I thought I’d try them again. I used to wear something similar, but there’s a story behind them…’

------

Bastien stood outside Jackson Walker’s office door, quaking in his boots. He was in trouble – serious trouble, and he was terrified he had jeopardised his chances to stay with the King’s Guard once he had finished his training. Not all made the grade, and many a security guard or doorman at the swanky hotels and exclusive clubs in the Cordonian capital and Monte Carlo owed their start in their working life to the exacting regime of the Guard. None could tell the tale of their experience as they had signed non disclosure agreements and could only clamp their jaws shut and purse their lips when asked what they had to go through before they had been found wanting.

The door opened and Walker’s second in command beckoned to the young man. He straightened his back ramrod straight and walked in, his face impassive but his guts churning and his knees shaky. He stood in front of Walker’s desk, hands clasped in front of his groin, gaze level.

‘Reporting as requested, Sir’ he announced gravely, and the older man lifted his chin

‘At ease, son’ he replied ‘This isn’t the army – sit down, Lykel’

‘I’d rather stand, sir’ Walker sighed

‘Very well, have it your way’ Bastien dared not look down at the desk – he knew what was there and it spelled his doom. Jackson tapped the surface and Bastien swallowed hard, savouring his last moments with the King’s Guard.

‘Lykel, please tell me what this is’ he said sternly, tapping the object in front of him

‘It’s a magazine, sir’ Jackson grunted in frustration and waited for him to look down. He felt his face flush as he did so, the image that met his eye burning into his retinas. There was an array of photographs of toned and buffed young men sporting colourful underwear – a high end brand he was only too familiar with, as at that moment he was wearing a pair. He wished he had worn something more modest that day – his ‘lucky’ pants having given up the ghost a week ago so he had been forced to wear – well actually it was the pair that was top left on the page in front of him.

‘I’m waiting, Lykel’ Bastien’s heart hammered in his ribcage. His mind worked overtime – the model agency had been impressed, perhaps they would take him on when Walker threw him out on his ear. Maybe it would pay more than private security.

‘I – I needed the money Sir, it was before I applied for – for the King’s Guard, Sir’ Jackson sighed heavily

‘Now that wasn’t so hard son, was it? He paused ‘Please sit, Lykel, I don’t want you to throw up’ Gratefully Bastien sank into the hard chair in front of the desk, taking a deep breath, and waited for the lecture – and the dismissal. However, there was a glimmer of hope in his superior’s eyes, a sympathetic expression on his face.

‘Just so you know, Lykel, this is not a sackable offence’ Bastien almost saw stars with a sick sense of relief, but wouldn’t allow himself to relax just yet. His superior continued ‘You know that there may be occasions when you will be undercover. Your presence is vital, but your identity needs to be kept secret’ He looked down at the magazine.

‘Luckily, there are no head shots here, and I have already contacted the magazine and the model agency to have any photographs and their negatives destroyed, and your profile erased.’ Bastien’s rigid posture softened a little and he let his breath go. Jackson fixed him with a steely glare.

‘This isn’t the end of your career in the Guard, but I consider it strike one, and you did it before you joined up so I’ll be lenient. You are a very promising cadet and I don’t want your training to fail on something like this. Is this the only agency that you used? Am I likely to find any more surprises?’

‘No sir, thankyou sir – I mean, no, that was the only shoot’ Bastien stuttered.

‘Very well. You are on probation and if I discover the tiniest flaw in your attendance or performance, I will come down on you without mercy. Dismissed’ Thankfully, Bastien rose with a huge sense of relief

‘Yes sir, thankyou. I won’t disappoint you, Sir’ He promised earnestly

‘I’m pretty sure you won’t’ Jackson Walker replied as he left the room with a lighter step.

------

‘I take it you kept your promise then?’ Sophia asked, turning her back for Bastien to draw down the zipper of her dress, kissing his way down her spine.

‘I certainly did. I didn’t make a single mistake for the rest of my training – not a late morning, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in my uniform, and I passed first in all the aptitude tests – every single one. I finished top of my year with a perfect record and nobody’s ever equalled it’ She shrugged off her dress and put it in the laundry. Bastien looked her up and down, standing in her underwear and stockings, and she looked back at him in the figure hugging brightly coloured boxer briefs.

‘Apart from modelling for underwear’ she scolded

‘Not while I was a guard’ he smiled. She put her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips, their bodies only millimetres apart.

‘Well I think you could go back to the modelling agency, they’d welcome you with open arms, especially with that adorable patch of white on your beard’ she teased. He bent his head to brush his lips over hers.

‘The only reason I had a pair when I was younger was because they let me keep the ones I’d worn’ he replied ‘They’re damn expensive even now, but I thought I’d treat myself – and you. Do you really like them?’

‘I like them so much you’re still wearing them’ she laughed ‘But perhaps you could take them off now. I can take my stockings off too’

‘No’ he growled, nipping at her collar bone ‘Keep them on, theá mou’

#bastien undercover challenge #bastien undercover #bastien lykel #trr bastien #OC x Bastien #sophia x bastien #the royal romance au #bastien underwear challenge

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ssardothien · 3 years

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CANNOLI KING

#i am dead #she really said it #omg #sara reads #kotc #kotc spoilers #kingdom of the cursed spoilers #kingdom of the cursed #kerri maniscalco #prince wrath #emilia di carlo #princewitch #kotw #kingdom of the wicked #cannoli lovers club

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witching-by-the-willow · 3 years

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bitches be like, oh he's my favourite book boyfriend love of my life I would let him wreck me, and it's the literal Devil.

it's me i'm bitches

#prince wrath #kingdom of the wicked #kingdom of the cursed #princewitch #emilia di carlo #kotw #kotc #cannoli lovers club #cara mia cult #kerri maniscalco #ya books #na books #books and libraries #books and reading #book boyfriends #is that a thing on Tumblr?#I mean it's Tumblr...so probably

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prrcyjacksons · 3 years

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“A violent upheaval. I'd say it suits”

Emilia x Wrath

[Kingdom of the Cursed by Kerri Maniscalco]

#book isn't even out yet and im OBSESSED #prince wrath #emilia x wrath #emilia di carlo #kotc #kingdom of the cursed #kotc spoilers #princewitch #cannoli lovers club #okay ive never done this tagging thing before so here goes #fatedromance #tuserbea #usernite #userrabby #scheduled #*bell.kotc

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vesperlionheart · 7 years

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Dream Sweet in Sea Major 2

When considering traditional standards of beauty or masculine charm, the features that made Yagura recognizable were not often considered. A notable scar below the one eye, irises colored bleeding pink, and a diminished stature that confused him with children if viewed from behind. No, Yagura was not what tradition would call beautiful, but he was other things.

Among those things he was old, considerably old, and in all the years of his long existence he had learned how to be. He knew what angles worked for him, what lighting suited his features, and how to lower his tenor to a velvet edged voice that could turn razor sharp in a second. He knew how to hold himself, how to dress himself, how to carry himself. He knew his worth and his worth was pretty damn high. The world was meant for him and was his. He acted as haughty as he pleased and the world slid right into his palm.

It gave him no little delight to be proven time and time again that the world was his to manipulate and take from as he pleased. The woman in the doorway seemed to do nothing more than stoke his already engorged ego.

There was blood across the floor and a dead hand under the toe of his designer shoes. Yagura leaned his head to the side and lowered his lids before lifting a rolled cigarette to his lips and cupping the end. A small burn of red and the end caught and began to smoke.

With the toe of his shoe he poked under the dead hand and kicked it up so it flopped back down onto the face of the corpse just as he took a long drag to exhale in semi dramatic fashion. The woman in the doorway didn’t move, and her eyes were still glued in appreciation to his figure even though half the other employees were scared and hiding.

“That’s enough for now,” he said to the other boys, turning away so the tail ends of his jacket flapped like a cape behind him. It made his walk all the more purposeful as he walked past the hungry woman and left her wanting. He didn’t even glance her way as he called out to the boys behind him.

“I think they got the message here. We’ll be back in the hour though if they step into our turf again.”

“You think we needed to leave so few alive?” Haku asked in a clear voice that reminded Yagura of the ice.

“Ao?” Yagura grunted before exhaling smoke again.

Ao came up behind Hake and purposefully stopped to turn and look behind them before pulling his gun out from the front breast pocket of his gray pinstripe. He aimed in less than a second and recoiled only slightly when the shot rang out and sank into the woman in the doorway’s forehead.

Slowly, purposefully, Ao put his gun away and reached for his hat instead. The rack had all their hats, as well as a few others that would never be worn by their owners again.

Yagura fit his fedora and pulled the front down low over his eyes before stepping out. A thin mist had settled and every so often the rain would come and wet the world further. It was perfect weather and the Mizu boys were all the stronger for it.

Haku begrudgingly followed his betters out and kept his head down, least his questions lead to more avoidable bloodshed. One woman was too risky to leave alive if she sported a handgun in the belt on her thigh? Apparently.

Ao drove, but Yagura rode from the backseat and was the real directioner for their group. If he didn’t want to go back to Mei’s place than they didn’t have to. She was technically their boss and really the only person that could handle Yagura enough to boss him into doing things for her.

It didn’t take long before they were back in the circle outside the estate. Before the rain could let up the trio exited their car and made it inside where the redhead of thought showed herself.

“And?” she asked, brandy tumbler in hand and eyes expectant. “How did it go?”

“As expected.”

“How many loose ends?” she asked, lips on the rim. Ao moved to stand close to her nearly behind her.

“Around four or seven. We shot the mole from the gentleman’s club.”

“I knew you would,” Mei sighed, shaking her head almost fondly. “I won’t ask why or bore myself with the details. Say what you have to say and move on. I have my own business to attend to.”

Yagura paused. “Your own…what?”

He was being brushed off.

“There has been a development and I am putting more of my efforts into rooting out the black market dealers in the Barren District. They’ve been…concerning me after tonight.”

“Why. They’re of no consequence to us.”

Her back was to him as she looked to the far wall where a map of the districts was drawn up and put in simple black ink on tempered rice paper. “Someone claimed they were selling mermaid tail again.”

“Tragic. Since when were we bleeding hearts?” He reached to light another white cigarette but kept his hands from reaching, knowing Mei didn’t like the smoke in her presence. She hated the smell, too.

“They’ve been on my nerves even without this last incident. They’ve become emboldened and tried to bring in what they shouldn’t have from the deep places. They mess with the ancient things and they will feel a swift and just wrath.” Mei looked away from the map and glared at something on the desk. “I don’t want to be swept up in their undertow when justice comes calling for them.”

He frowned and almost glared at the women he considered too hesitant to take on an entire district in management. He almost regretted sleeping for the last thirty years and leaving the position of leadership vacant for whoever could grab it best. He had no desired to be in charge again, the responsibility was too burdensome and he enjoyed his freedom too much to chain himself to an idea, but Mei irked him. She settled under his scales the wrong way.

“Are you planning on involving myself and the others in these concerns or do you still want me gone?” Yagura asked, shifting the weight of his body from one leg to the other. He was ready to move one way or the other, not that he cared.

Mei turned back to look at him and the red of her hair flickered brilliantly as it reflected the healthy glow of the nearby fire. There was a crackle of charred wood breaking down between them before she found the words she wanted and nodded. “No. You may go. These matters need not concern you. I apologize for keeping you longer than need be. You may do as you please.”

He was dismissed so easily. She could have, but she didn’t ask for his help, even after he brought it up. Could she really be so foolish to ignore his aid?

Fine.

“As you say,” he muttered curtly before turning on his heel and making for the exit.

Yagura slept for a day or two, longer than usual, and woke feeling a bit less confrontational, but not fully rested. There was still a beast inside him that wasn’t done pacing. His agitation took him down to the garage.

“I’m sorry, but the car is out,” Suigetsu said, meekly ducking into his shoulders as he tried to shrink.

“What do you mean the car is out? Who took my car?”

It wasn’t really his car, but no one would dare touch it without him and he had come to grow found of the automobile. No one had ever taken it on their own before. It was unexpected.

“S-sorry sir. Um, Mei told Haku to take Sakura out shopping for some clothing supplies and other needs.”

He blinked only once in the silence between them. “…Who?”

“Oh, it was Haku.”

“No, who did Haku take out? I know who Haku is you dolt.”

“Sakura?” The younger boy’s fear didn’t fade, but Yagura watched as it faded into something more relaxed as Suigetsu smiled to himself and answering. “She’s Mei’s guest, but Kisame brought her back and she’s been here since. She’s really nice.”

“And I have no car because Haku took her shopping.” Yagura clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Th-there are other cars you could use.”

“Not interested.”

Yagura went back to his room to sleep again for less than a day before coming back out again to seek out Zabuza and rope the older man into a patrol of the district they ran.

“He’s out with Ao in the Barren District,” Haku answered without looking up from his novel. The boy’s tone was light and faded, like it was air between them. “Should be back in a few hours.”

“What are they doing there?” Yagura asked in annoyance.

“Whatever Mei asks them. She said she told you she was looking into the movements in that district, didn’t you?” Haku looked up from his book for the first time and cocked his head at an angle to one side, eyes wide and innocent. “Or did she not fill you in on her plans because you were sleeping? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with the distraction.”

Haku was almost worse than Mei with the sass sometimes. Zabuza let the kid get away with too much, and it was Yagura’s friendship with the old man that kept Yagura from swiping out and backhanding he kid out of his seat. The mental image was pleasing and the idea of violence made his very bones shake and then settle.

But he didn’t slap Haku. He took his agitation back to bed and slept again, suspecting things would be better the next waking day.

He was standing in the kitchen, staring into a densely packed fridge with one glaring absence.

“Who took my cannoli?” he seethed, slamming the door and storming out with a heading set for Kisame. The man ate like a tank and was in the kitchen more than anyone else. He would knew better than Yagura who the thief would be.

Yagura found the blue giant in the map room, helping Mei assemble pins on the board attached with scrolls wrapped up tight around the pins. Both looked up when he stormed in, but neither shrank or flinched. Mei didn’t need to and Kisame was a powerhouse in his own right. Kisame was likely the only other one who could go toe to toe with Yagura and not suffer a horrible loss in the first twenty minutes of a fight.

“Who?” was all the shorter male ground out.

“What are you talking about now, dear?” Mei asked in a soft sort of voice best suited to mothers and lovers. Mei was neither to him and they both knew that. She was just his agitator.

“The kitchen. My cannoli.”

Kisame looked up. “Those weren’t yours. That was a run I made, and you were asleep and never asked for any.”

“There are always cannoli for me. Everyone else received their usual. Where is my cannoli, I can smell where it should have been.”

“Like I said, those weren’t for you. Sakura wanted to try one and she liked them, so I gave the rest to her,” Kisame admitted, ducking his head as he leaned over the table even further. Along the high ridges of his cheekbones and the shell of his ear his skin flushed a mellow shade of purple through his blue skin.

“Sakura?” he hissed the name.

“My guest,” Mei added. “Don’t be mean, she won’t like you.”

“I don’t like her, so that’s fine,” he snapped, feeling the static around his face charge. “When is she leaving?”

Kisame looked up suddenly and turned his eyes to Mei who rolled her lips against each other before leaning back away from the table and crossing her arms. Her eyes were on the flags, but she answered him in spite of her split attention.

“She may leave when she wishes. For as long as she has need of it, I will offer her shelter under my roof.”

“What is she contributing?”

Mei looked up sharply and her eyes were knives all on their own. “That is no business of yours. I will not speak on this matter further. You may run out yourself and buy any treat you wish, but leave me to my plans. I must meditate on this a while longer. Kisame? Grab me those cards.”

Mei’s attention slid off Yagura to the cards Kisame was handing her, blank except for a few names and addresses she was adding to the map. Just like before, he was so easily dismissed.

Fine.

That was… just fine.

He didn’t think he would, but the next day he heard the stranger ahead of him, stumbling about in the kitchen looking through the fridge. He stopped in the hall, finding himself at the crossroads of a choice. He had no plans that would take him into the kitchen, but the stranger they called Sakura was in there, and he had half a mind to scare her off before she ruined any more of his life.

Yes, it would be necessary to scare her a little.

He turned into the kitchen, feeling the agitation around his face as he rounded the corner and stopped with his feet firmly planted. Arms crossed he watched the shadow of her as she bend behind the door to the fridge and dug.

“What are you doing, you thief,” he hissed, voice deep and sharp, like a knife from below.

He saw her flinch and stumble backwards out from behind the door, still gripping its side. He could tell right away by the size and shape of her wrist she was small, thin, maybe malnourished, and less a threat to any odd room then he would ever be-even at his weakest.

He held onto his glare like a lifeline when she looked up at him, green eyes wide and glassy. She was a mess, a young, scared mess, and it took the fight out of him.

He growled, hating the feeling he sensed at her reveal. The source of his agitation was before him, but scaring her or intimidating her would do nothing but agitate him further.

She stepped out further and he noticed how she carried herself on unsteady legs, the unusual angle she moved at, and how thin her ankles were with bare feet and miles of bare legs. She was wearing a dress, but it was too small to consider appropriate for anything other than sleepwear.

With a small sort of horror he realized the hour was late and the sky was dark beyond the windows and that fancy white lace was exactly what he thought it was. He had caught her in her sleeping things like some sort of pervert.

Didn’t she know better?

He looked away, cheeks red up to his ears. “What are you doing here?”

“Food?”

Something curled up in his chest and he almost doubled over from the surprise of the feeling. Her voice was like a memory in his heart and he knew instantly that she was one of the mer folk known for their voices. There was no way she could be anything else. Additionally, Mei mentioned mermaid tail being sold again. No one told him, but he figured it all out.

“You need something to eat, then?” he grunted, voice less sharp and melting fast.

When she nodded he hated how it made her seem smaller than she already was, like she was shrinking away into nothingness. He took a step towards her.

“Then eat something. What are you looking for? There is plenty to choose from.” He came up behind her and glared over her shoulder into the fridge. “There are cookies and cake and frozen pasta. All excellent choices.”

“…No cannoli?”

“Ah, well, I guess you just have a more refined taste than the others. No, there is no cannoli. The only one who eats it is me.”

Sakura wilted at the confession, but nodded in agreement. “Oh. Okay.” She looked to the fridge and then over at Yagura. “Thanks anyway.”

“You’re not going to take something else?”

Sakura shrugged. “I-I’ve tried some other stuff, but it all made me sick so far. Mei said I would adjust in time.”

“So you can’t keep anything else down,” he mused, thinking how horrible that must be. No wonder she was so thin. She hadn’t been properly taken care of.

“Come on,” he said, leading her by the arm. “The bakery operated on a 24 seven schedule. Go change and meet me in the garage. I was heading out there on my own anyway, and I guess it wouldn’t be too much trouble if you tagged along. You wouldn’t be able to get them without me anyway at this hour.”

“Change into one of the new dresses? Will it be…long?”

“Not truly, at least not at this hour. Go, that’s not appropriate to be seen in. When you come out in the future you should wear a robe. Has no one told you how you could cover up or even why?”

Sakura hook her head before nodding once awkwardly and hopping off to change. She came back after several long minutes in a plain gray and blue pinstripe pattern. It was modest, neat, and somehow she made it look like the opposite of what it had been intended for; simple wearing. She clutched a small purse, too thin to hold much.

“You won’t need that,” he grumbled, turning and stalking into the garage with a backwards wave meant to encourage her to follow. “It’s unthinkable to accept the pennies of the poor. Save it.”

He stopped when he realized she wasn’t following. He turned, glower fresh.

“What is it?”

“You’re Yagura right?”

“Huh, what of it?”

Sakura dipped her head and the loose strands of coral pink slid over her shoulders. “Thank you. I’m Sakura.”

He didn’t fluster, but maybe Yagura did go a bit red in the face, embarassed to be thanked so directly.

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning his back to her and walking on. “You’ll need new clothes too. Next time we’ll replace those drab things Haku chose for you. Nothing even came with a hair ribbon. Really, they should be ashamed of their hospitality.”

She followed silently, but with a smile.

“What is that?”

“What does it look like?” he barked.

Mei frowned, looking down at the bag of hands, some still fresh with wet blood. “It looks like a mess. Where did they come from?”

“You won’t find anyone willing to cut up a mermaid tail for food any longer. “

#Yagura #YAGUSAKU #Dream Sweet in Sea Major #more of that fic #Mermaid Sakura

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