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#just plain brilliance
luveline · 1 year
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hotch overhears r telling the girls that hotch isn’t interested because he’s not flirting back and is like 😦 i have the biggest crush on u wdym?!?! i think he would be so oblivious hehehe. but only if you are so inclined! love you bunches miss jade 💘💘
Thank you for your request, you have a huge brain <3 fem!reader
Hotch is standing in the kitchen with the curtain pulled shut, reclaiming just the smallest bit of space after a long week of close quarters. You, JJ and Emily sit toward the front, and he’s no idiot — as soon as he’d entered the kitchen your easy conversation had stopped.
Not stopped. Quietened.
You’re speaking in whispers.
He’s perhaps a bad boss for trying to listen. He turns his good ear to the curtain and holds still, fighting to make sense of it over the low thrum of the jet engines.
“It looks like it’s going well!” That’s Emily, whispering but excitable, the loudest out of the three of you.
“Sometimes I think it is…” That’s you. He hears the beginning but not the tail end, your whispers too careful.
“They need more help than they’ll admit to,” JJ says softly.
“That’s the thing– I thought I was helping, you know? I’ve actually been awful.” You laugh and his brows ease up from their natural scowl. It’s a really nice sound. “I don’t know how many casual arm touches I have left in me.”
“He likes you, I know it,” says Emily.
“I really don’t think he’s interested,” you say, and you sound sad. Not in any danger of crying, simply sad. A depressed hush. “I complimented his haircut, a few days ago, and he didn’t even answer. He just smiled. I’m striking out.”
Hotch almost drops his cup of coffee because you’re talking about him. He’d had a feeling, of course, but that’s plain confirmation, unless you’re going around telling all your male friends you like their hair. And said male friends had also been pleased into silence, flustered and smug that you’d even noticed. It’s not like his hair ever gets very long.
He makes a show of opening the curtain and keeping his head down when he returns to his seat. Reid and Morgan both nod at him, a chess game between them that Morgan thinks he’s winning, and Reid knows he’s winning.
If he thought it wouldn’t make you an anxious ball of nerves, he’d stop you on your way past him and ask if he can speak to you at the office. As it stands, any hint that he’s heard your conversation would be a cruelty, so he smiles when you meet his eyes and doesn’t say a word. He loves smiling at you; you’re a frequent receiver and yet every time you get one you act like it’s a gift, your own doubling in size and your eyelashes kissing with the force of it.
Only when the jet’s touched down and you’re all making your way back into the office for paperwork does he hold you back. He actually reaches out for you, fingers over your pulse.
“Can I steal you?” he asks, trying to sound as you sound, sometimes, that lilting sweetness that comes with your flirting. “It won’t take long.”
He doesn’t miss the knowing glances from Emily and JJ. They’re a brilliant confidence booster, actually.
If Hotch weren’t your boss, he’d have asked you out by now. But he is, and so he needs this to be on your terms. That being said, he’s certainly not about to discourage you. The rest of the team keep walking, leaving you and him alone.
“I wanted to commend you for some amazing work this week. It was a long case, and you didn’t falter.”
You glow.
“Oh, thank you.” Brilliance melds to confusion. Hotch isn’t the type to pull someone aside for praise and nothing else. “It was rough but, uh, we’re a good team, aren’t we? We always get it done in the end.”
“We’re a good team,” he repeats. Then, because he has a huge, awful crush on you, and he needs to inspire some more bravery from you, “Sometimes I need more help than I’m willing to admit to.” He claps your upper arm gently. “You don’t let me down.”
He quickly stops touching you, taking a slow step toward the door that you follow automatically. He wants you to have the space to think about what he’s said, worried he’s read the signs wrong, worried he’s come on too strong, but you catch up and tuck your hand into the crook of his arm.
“I like helping,” you say, quiet but undeniably delighted. Your smile is cherubic. “People have said that about me, I’m a helper.”
“Yeah?” he asks with a laugh.
Your cheek touches his shoulder, the heat of it seeping through his suit. “Definitely.”
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m1d-45 · 1 year
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You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.
"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."
They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."
Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.
It's a lovely night.
in the stars
word count: ~1k
-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.
-> lowercase intended
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie
< masterlist >
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the stars never lie.
mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.
they don’t.
her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.
a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.
you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.
“are you alright?”
she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.
“just fine, thank you.”
her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.
the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?
you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.
"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”
orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…
hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.
all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.
you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.
no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…
she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-
…only a few hours.
her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.
she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.
the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…
you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.
“beautiful, isn’t it?”
she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.
mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.
“indeed, it is.”
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cha-melodius · 2 months
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HAPPY 100 FICS / 1000 KUDOS DARLING
Could I please get Firstprince at some sort of pet store?
💜💜💜💜
(HAPPY BIRTHDAY CRICKET!!!! This is the fill for your fandom fest request of firstprince at a pet store. Thank you for being such an excellent doc gremlin and wonderful friend, I hope this fic brightens your day!!)
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The Hazards of Unsolicited Toy Advice
(T, 2.2k, read it below or on AO3)
There’s a staggeringly gorgeous man loitering by a display of chew toys.
The sight of him momentarily brings Henry to a complete halt, which confuses David. He reaches the end of his lead and looks back at Henry with his head tilted, clearly wondering what could have interrupted their usual pilgrimage to the elaborate collection of bones, pigs’ ears, and various treats that make this store worth going out of their way to visit. Unfortunately for David, Henry needs a moment. He knows he’s being kind of weird, but surely he can be forgiven. It’s not every day one comes across the personification of pure sunlight in a pet store.
The man doesn’t seem to notice Henry’s watching, thankfully. His full lips pout thoughtfully as he pokes idly at a few toys, picking them up and putting them down again without much intention. A few dark curls fall forward over his forehead as he props one hand on his devastatingly narrow waist, perfectly emphasized by the way his tailored button-down is tucked into navy chinos that hug a truly perfect arse.
David chuffs softly, pulling Henry out of his reverie. Right. The beautiful man looks like he could use some decision-making assistance, perhaps. Henry will take whatever tiny opening he can get.
“If you need some advice on toys, I have some experience,” Henry said, only realizing the way it sounds once the words are out of his mouth.
Unfortunately, the beautiful man does not miss the innuendo. He looks up at Henry, warm brown eyes fringed by the longest eyelashes Henry’s ever seen flashing with mirth as his face breaks into a grin and, oh, if Henry was in trouble before, it was nothing on this. The man’s entire face lights up, nearly blinding in its brilliance, and Henry’s stomach swoops.
“Do you, now?” the man returns as his lips settle into a smirk. He looks Henry up and down, and Henry doesn’t think he’s imagining the interest in his expression.
Henry’s cheeks are heating, but he holds the man’s gaze. “Yes. David is a bit of a connoisseur.”
The man’s eyebrows shoot upward. “David? Is that your…”
“My dog, of course,” Henry says, gesturing toward where David is sitting obediently at his feet. “He’s got quite the collection.”
“Dog named David, ok,” the man mutters, laughing a little to himself. “Does he have a favorite?”
Henry reaches out and plucks a rubber toy shaped like a duck and hands it to the man. “This one is probably his first choice.” At his feet, David makes a noise of interest, and Henry glances down at him. “You have this one at home, Davey.”
The man turns the toy over in his hands, but before he can say anything an employee walks up and hands him a plain brown paper bag with the top stapled shut and some numbers written on the side.
“Anything else, sir?” she asks.
“No, that’s it. Thanks,” the man says, then looks at Henry and lifts up the duck. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Yes, well, if you need any further toy suggestions, we’re here regularly,” Henry manages to say, and it sounds like just as much of a come-on as he means it to.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” the man replies, smirking, then heads off to the front of the store.
~~~~~
Henry runs into the beautiful man again a couple weeks later, standing in the same place as last time. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans today with his curls combed and tamed, and is no less stunning for it (though Henry’s always been partial to curls). Today, Henry is slightly more prepared; he’s thought about—ok, fantasized about—running into the man again. This time he’s getting a name, at the very least.
“So, was it a success?” he asks as he walks up to the man. Warmth blooms in his chest at the look of recognition that takes over the man’s face, though it’s quickly followed by a furrowed brow.
“What?”
“The toy. Did your dog like it?”
“Oh. Yeah, definitely,” the man says, bobbing his head a little. “Any other suggestions?”
Henry lets his gaze skim over the toys until he sees the plush strawberry David’s been favoring lately and picks it up, but the man shakes his head apologetically. “No soft toys.”
“A penchant for shredding them apart?” Henry guesses.
“Hard to keep clean,” he says, wrinkling his nose.
“Always an important consideration for any toy,” Henry agrees sagely, only for the man to raise his eyebrows again. It seems to happen with alarming regularity. As does the way Henry’s cheeks heat. He clears his throat and picks up a rubber toy with numerous large holes punched through it. “What about something like this? You can put treats in these for a bit of a challenge.”
The man looks at the toy consideringly before taking it from Henry. “That one could work.”
“I’m Henry, by the way.”
The man opens his mouth, only to be interrupted by another employee with a brown paper bag. After accepting it, he looks back at Henry. “Well, thanks again, Henry,” he says with a little wave, leaving Henry decidedly unsatisfied with the outcome of this encounter.
~~~~~
“The toy with the holes was a hit.” 
Henry turns to see the beautiful man approaching him this time. He’s already got his brown paper bag clutched in one hand this time, and his other stuffed in the pocket of his jeans.
“That’s good to hear,” Henry replies, smiling. At his feet, David starts wagging his tail, apparently having by now decided that the man is a friend. “You’re back again.”
“Turns out you have good taste in toys,” the man says, shrugging a little.
“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Henry says without really thinking about it, and the eyebrows shoot up again. Henry coughs. “I mean, dog toys.”
He does not mean dog toys.
The man grins wickedly, like he is not fooled. “Well, be that as it may, I thought I might try my luck a third time.”
Henry thinks that it’s about time that he tried his luck, actually. “How about, you tell me your name, and I’ll give you another suggestion,” he counters.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware this toy advice came at a price.”
“Too steep for you?”
“Nah, that’s a bargain, sweetheart,” the man replies. “I’m Alex.”
“Alex,” Henry echoes softly, tasting the name on his tongue, and Alex’s lips part slightly. “And what about your dog?”
It seems to take Alex a moment to parse his question. “Oh, Miss Piggy. She came with the name. I adopted her from a friend of a friend that was trying to get rid of her.”
“That was good of you.”
Alex shrugs. “She’s low maintenance, and it’s kind of nice to talk to someone else in my empty apartment. Not that she talks back.”
Henry tries to suppress the little thrill of hope at the fact that Alex doesn’t live with anyone. “I understand,” he says. “David isn’t much of a conversationalist, but he’s an excellent listener.”
“How long have you had him?”
“Since he was a puppy.”
“So you chose the name David,” Alex says, a touch incredulously.
“I did,” Henry confirms. “It’s after Bowie.”
Alex blinks, like he’s re-evaluating something. “Oh. That’s cool.” He crouches down, which of course makes David start squirming in desire to get to Alex, but he stays sitting next to Henry’s feet. “He’s very well-behaved. Can I pet him?”
“He’d like that.”
Alex reaches a hand out to scratch behind David’s ears, which David immediately presses into, his tail thumping rapidly on the floor. “Who’s a good boy?” Alex coos, and Henry honestly counts himself lucky that Alex’s soft smile is directed at David instead of him; he might not survive it. But then Alex looks up at him in his current position practically kneeling on the floor, and Henry comes very close to shuffling off this mortal coil right then and there anyway.
“So,” Alex says as he stands again, brushing his hands off on his trousers, “what kind of toy advice do I get for my name?”
Henry very nearly suggests some quite different toy advice in response to that question, but manages to bring his brain back online at the last second. “Well,” he says, picking up a tube-shaped rubber toy, “if she liked the treat toy, then this one is a similar idea.” He holds it out to Alex, but he doesn’t let go when Alex grabs the other end. “I have another request.”
The eyebrows go again. “This is an expensive toy.”
Henry shakes his head. “Not a price. But I’d very much like to take you to dinner, if you’d be interested.”
The dimple in Alex’s cheek deepens and he drops his gaze before looking up at Henry through his eyelashes. Christ, but this man is lethal.
“I’m interested.”
~~~~~
Alex tugs Henry in by the front of his jacket as he backs up against the front door to his flat, and Henry wastes no time before sealing their mouths together again. At the end of their first date, Alex had dropped him off outside his building and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Henry’s mouth; it had been utterly lovely, but Henry has to admit he’s very much enjoying this, the conclusion to their second date. Alex’s tongue in his mouth and the cut of his teeth, Alex’s hands grabbing onto his waist, Alex’s thigh pressing in between his.
“You wanna come in, baby?” Alex asks in the gaps between their kisses.
The endearment makes something warm settle in his gut, and he grins against Alex’s lips. “Thought you’d never ask, love.”
They stumble through the door, and despite the fact that Alex has now attached himself to Henry’s throat, Henry finds himself distracted, listening for the tell-tale sound of claws on the hardwood. Nothing comes, though. Perhaps Miss Piggy is a heavy sleeper?
“What’s wrong?” Alex asks, clearly noticing his inattention.
“Sorry,” Henry says, shaking his head. “I was expecting your dog.”
For some reason, that makes Alex look down and bite his lip, and when he finally meets Henry’s eyes again, he looks decidedly sheepish. “I, um. Don’t have a dog.”
Henry blinks at him. Opens and closes his mouth. “You don’t?”
Alex shakes his head. “No.”
“So you let me suggest you dog toys…”
“Because when a ridiculously hot guy wants to talk to you about dog toys, you talk about dog toys,” Alex says, a little helplessly.
It’s honestly hard to be anything but insanely flattered, but he still doesn’t quite understand. “So all of that about adopting Miss Piggy, and the toy reviews… it was all made up?”
“Oh, no, it wasn’t,” Alex says, nonsensically. Then he takes Henry by the hand and leads him into the living room, where there’s a terrarium set up along one wall. Amongst the water dish and a fake-rock hut, Henry spots the duck, and the toy with the holes, and the tube, which has the head and tail of a small brown-and-tan-patterned snake sticking out of one end. “Miss Piggy is a snake,” Alex tells him. “A western hognose, to be specific. Hence the name, I guess. I was in the pet store buying frozen mice for her the times I saw you. I did adopt her from a friend of a friend who didn’t want her anymore, and she does like the toys, as you can see.”
Henry bends down to get a closer look at the snake, who has big eyes and a little turned-up snout. “I never thought a snake could be cute,” he says, unaccountably and unexpectedly charmed by the small creature.
“She’s a drama queen, is what she is,” Alex says. When Henry looks at him questioningly, he explains, “When they feel threatened, they either pretend to be a viper or play dead. Turn over onto their back, tongue hanging out and everything. She hasn’t done that since right after I got her, though. I think she’s happier here.”
Alex gets a kind of soft, fond smile on his face as he talks about the snake, and Henry can’t help but be ridiculously charmed by that, too. He takes a step closer to Alex and slips his arms around his waist, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to his temple, and Alex’s smile widens.
“What was that for?” he asks.
“You care for her,” Henry says simply. “It’s endearing.”
“Of course I do,” Alex replies. “How could you not love that face?”
“Mm,” Henry hums in agreement. “I suppose this means we don’t have to worry about her waking us early in the morning to go outside.”
Alex’s eyes sparkle as he turns in Henry’s arms, looping his own around Henry’s shoulders. “You planning on spending the night, baby? What about David?”
“Is it terribly forward if I said I already arranged to have someone take care of him tonight?” Henry asks, biting his lower lip.
“Not any more than what I was gonna ask you,” Alex says, smirking as his fingers play idly with a flippy piece of Henry’s hair.
“Which is?”
“Well, y’know, I wanted some advice.” He leans in close, until his lips are brushing the angle of Henry’s jaw, and murmurs, “On a different kind of toy.”
Henry doesn’t need to be asked twice.
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junnananas · 4 months
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It's so interesting to me that some people think Nana's actions in the movie are contradictory to her previously established character motivations and/or are just plain ironic, but I don't think so.
If she couldn't protect their past/their brilliance/her Starlight, then she needs to stop feeding into the literal definition of insanity and switch gears to a different tactic, try something else because there's now no other option but to do so.
But back then, there was something to protect. They were all striving for the best possible performances and the best possible stage. As of the movie? They're all dead. Nana won't let it continue because she knows what's best: it needs to change.
You can tend to a forest with all the love of a god, but it only takes a fire.
And so she lights a match.
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violeteyedhero · 1 year
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Glass Onion and the Mona Lisa
(Major Glass Onion spoilers obviously)
I saw a post yesterday that showed the Mona Lisa next to the final shot of Helen sitting on the beach, posed the exact same way, with that same unreadable smile. I think in that moment everything kind of clicked for me, and I think I understand now how it was used as a motif. I poured things out on twitter and I'm gonna do it here too.
So the Mona Lisa is introduced about thirty minutes into the movie, before anything has technically happened. We are shown that Miles purchased it, had it put in his living room (full of volatile hydrogen gas), behind a glass door, and that he can override the glass just to see her face. He looks at it with some awe, but to do something so arrogant and dangerous is not something that you do when you just admire the art...it's a power move. It's a rich man flaunting a priceless artwork and saying, look at me, I don't give a flying fuck about the consequences.
Then, he talks about how he saw it when he was six, and how he longs to be immortalised like the painting. Smash cut to Andi.
Now, I have only a rough recollection of Da Vinci's story, but something that I do recall is this--we still don't know who was the true subject of the Mona Lisa. There were at least two women who it could have been (as well as Da Vinci's male student/lover and Da Vinci himself). There's even still a fair bit of debate as to whether he painted it at all. The truth has long been obfuscated. Only the physical painting by Da Vinci matters to people. The subject is irrelevant.
Not long after this scene, we discover that 'Andi' is not in fact Cassandra, but Helen, employing the rich bitch voice that the sisters created as kids. An elegant, unreadable woman with an ever-changing mood and smile, and an air of absolute mystery. Her character is framed, in the first half at least, as the real-life Mona Lisa.
As the story goes on, you can see how important this parallel becomes. Miles constantly reiterates how he wants to be mentioned in the same breath as the Mona Lisa. In the same way, he wants to be mentioned in the same breath as Andi Brand. He tries to be like her, cheat her, steal from her, surpass her, and take her life from her. He uses the image and money that he gets from being her partner, and uses it to steal her ideas and kill her. He obfuscates her role in the company's founding, takes it for himself.
Andi as a person is dead, but the world doesn't know that yet. For now, Miles gets to keep her image and everything she's built for himself. Not for admiration, but for power. The world just sees her as the subject of his work. Secondary, and irrelevant.
Enter Helen, who steps into her sister's role and uses her image to get to the truth. The others don't know who she is, but Miles should. It's glaringly obvious, but he never thinks to look beyond the glass between them and see who she truly is or why she's there. And he doesn't let go of his need to show off how powerful he is.
Because like the Mona Lisa, the envelope is in plain sight. The last piece of Andi's work is hidden within the Glass Onion, just behind his fake napkin--the one he took credit for.
Miles loses, in the end, because he's so deeply arrogant and idiotic. He plays dirty to get what he wants, and can't help but mount his prizes on the wall. But Helen understands that, at the end of the day, she is a third grade teacher from Alabama, and a black woman against an absurdly wealthy white man. He will not face consequences for this. He won't even be arrested for Andi's murder.
So what does she do? She literally destroys the glass. She annihilates the illusion of his brilliance. She destroys the layers of the onion, shows the rot in its core--his persona, his wonder fuel--and then, she destroys the Mona Lisa. Because it is a painting, something that he chose to put in danger. And the world will see if it is gone.
She brings down the glass barrier, but he destroyed the painting the moment he set foot in Andi's house. And maybe this way, even if he isn't remembered as the murderer of Andi Brand, he will always be remembered as the destroyer of the Mona Lisa. It's a small sort of justice, but it's the only thing that Miles will answer to.
The dust settles, Helen goes to the beach. She ends the story sitting as the Mona Lisa did, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. There's no illusion anymore, no glass between us and the subject. We can look into her eyes. It's a moment where the subject of the art reclaims the narrative, not unlike OJ's ending shot in Nope. The painting may now be gone, but the Brand sisters have been immortalised in a way. Andi is gone, but Helen is alive and true.
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lunaxx08 · 1 month
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imagine waking up one day with the diabolical idea of making a character suffer like never before. that's exactly what prashanth neel seemed to have done with deva. and how exactly would he do that? simple, by making varadha suffer.
let's talk about deva for a moment. he's not just any character; he's a man driven by his principles, fuelled by his emotions, and haunted by the injustices he witnesses (this can be clearly seen in the mahara scene). his heart bleeds for those who are wronged and especially when it comes to varadha. the bond between these two isn't just friendship; it's a deep-rooted connection that defines deva's existence. because time and again, the movie shows just how strongly deva feels, seeing varadha facing injustice at each and every turn in his life, it really breaks deva apart.
prashanth neel is a genius, the way he designed deva’s character and how his suffering is channelled through his unwavering love and concern for varadha.
and now, enter varadha – a character whose life seems to be a never-ending cycle of hardship and injustice. whether it's societal prejudices, personal tragedies, or plain bad luck, varadha is constantly at the receiving end of life's cruel jokes. and who bears the brunt of varadha's suffering? none other than deva himself.
it's like prashanth neel took a magnifying glass and focused it on the raw, emotional core of deva's character, amplifying his pain and anguish through varadha's experiences. every setback, every betrayal, every tear shed by varadha resonates deeply with deva, tearing him apart from the inside out.
but why would he choose to subject his protagonist to such emotional turmoil? is it a stroke of genius or sheer cruelty? perhaps it's a bit of both. by intertwining deva's fate with varadha's, prashanth neel creates a compelling narrative that forces us to confront the harsh realities of life, love, and loyalty.
his decision to make deva suffer indirectly through varadha's experiences is nothing short of cinematic brilliance. it's a daring narrative choice that challenges our perceptions, tugs at our heartstrings, and leaves us pondering long after the credits roll. whether you see it as a stroke of genius or an act of cruelty, there's no denying the impact it has on the audience. so, hats off to prashanth neel for crafting a story that's as heartbreaking as it is breathtaking!
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bahbahhh · 11 months
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begin again
a lot of change happens in between Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom. let’s fill in the gaps.
zelda pov | zelink | totk spoilers | rated T zelinkweek2023 | @zelinkcommunity [first] [ ao3 ]
Again, big shout out to my beta reader @zeldaelmo who is an amazing writer for the LoZ fandom and is posting for zelink week as well. I had the pleasure of returning the favor for this totk zelink oneshot and absolutely recommend it.
chapter 2
for the prompt “forbidden”
Link’s just publicly recommended they destroy the most valuable resources available for the restoration of Hyrule and Zelda has no idea how to save him. 
Everyone just stares, and with the company they find themselves in, it may as well be the very eyes of Hyrule itself that are on him. Zelda can’t find her breath. She’s back in Blatchery Plain, drenched in rain and despair, surrounded by a swarm of corrupted guardians. Link faced a sea of eyes then, too. He stands with his back to her, just like he does now, and she watches his silhouette light up with constellations of crimson. 
He’s about to be blown to pieces right in front of her. 
She starts to raise her hand to protect him like she did that day, only to remember she hasn’t felt the hum of power, nevermind summoned the glow of golden light to her fingertips, since they destroyed the Calamity six months ago. She’s a star burnt out with nothing to show of her once formidable brilliance, but an ugly scar on her hand.
“All of it?” Impa asks, calmly.
Link nods. 
“Even the Divine Beasts?”
“Especially those,” he asserts.  
He has yet to make eye contact with Zelda again since the smile; that red herring of a smile that had her daydreaming while he nocked a kill shot. She gives up on trying to summon his gaze with her mind and glances desperately at Impa. The keeper of their histories, a guardian of lost tapestries and lessons of the past, a voice of reason in the hundred year storm—
But Zelda sees none of the women she thought she knew in the way Impa considers him. She’s got her head tilted pensively, like she might actually be contemplating what Link has said, which is impossible because he is suggesting they dismantle all the ancient relics of her people. 
Impa rotates her gaze out to the crowd and extends her hands to welcome the discussion, looking like a statue of the Goddess herself. Zelda’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach with a splash. She wants to scream, at both of them, but the continued and calm silence of the crowd is starting to feel less like they are preparing to strike and more like Link’s found the hidden door they’ve all been searching for. An emotional outburst could compromise the cogendy of any argument she might make. 
Goddess, she can still hear her father’s voice in her head after all these years. 
“Where would it all go?” Reede finally asks. 
Link crosses his arms over his chest, thinks about it for a half a second –1 like they are talking about something as simple as mending a pasture fence – and offers, “Sheikah Slate has a limitless inventory. Load it all into the Slate and then get rid of it.”
“How do you suppose we do that?” 
“Smash it with a hammer?” 
Purah gasps. “That would be such a waste, Linky! We still haven’t unlocked a quarter of the Slate’s potential.”
“You’ll build something better.” 
“Like what?” Robbie says, visibly shaken and pale.
‘That’s your thing, isn’t it?’ Link signs.
“If I may, wouldn’t destroying the Sheikah Technology prolong restoration efforts?” says Hudson of Tarrey Town. 
Link nods. 
“Did you yourself not benefit from the technology during your travels?” Traysi asks in a strangely formal tone. She lifts a pen and paper out of her lap without looking away from Link.  
He shrugs and Traysi’s expression sinks. She must be remembering he’s Hyrule’s worst interview subject. She rolls her shoulders back and tries again. 
“Wasn’t it Sheikah Technology that saved you from death?” 
An unbearable amount of guilt seethes out from wounds deep inside Zelda. Questions she’ll never feel brave enough to voice echo in the silence that follows Traysi’s: Did I make the right call? Is it what you wanted me to do? She can’t see his face, but she imagines it is unsettlingly neutral, as it always is in crucial moments of outrageous tension.  
Do you resent me for what I did? She’s screaming inside her head, glaring at the back of his skull. Unbearable heat swirls in her chest like dragon’s breath. You must! Just say you do! 
“It trapped his soul inside his body,” King Dorephan says.
Link’s body flinches. It’s microscopic. Zelda only catches it because she’s so focused on him, but she sees it, and pain blooms in the very center of her chest. 
“Mipha’s soul was trapped inside Vah Ruta after all these years, too.” King Dorephan continues. He is a monolith of a presence and yet, when he speaks about his late daughter, somehow, he’s transformed into something smaller and broken. This is the price of a long life. The Rito who flew with Revali, the Gerudo who marched with Urbosa, the Gorons who laughed with Daruk; they have all since passed. If there is grief, it is distant and therefore, instinctively more bearable. Only the Sheikah can begin to relate and still, with the Champions, the Zora stand alone. Zelda’s here. The Sheikah’s Princess returned.
The title suddenly feels too heavy again. 
“Father, her body was gone,” Prince Sidon says gently. He has tears in his eyes. Unapologetically emotional as ever, and instead of responding with rage or shame, the great King of the Zora places a hand on Sidon’s shoulders. His eyes, set beneath the mighty crown of his people, swim with tears as well. 
Zelda wilts with envy. 
“The Zora second Link’s motion to destroy all Sheikah Technology.”
“We-we would be forfeiting artifacts that have withstood the test of time and have proven immensely useful,” Robbie proclaims. For the first time, he looks his age. Shaking where he stands, shoulders crested with fatigue, his hands braced on the back of Purah’s chair.  
“When they function properly,” Teba’s chimes in. He has the kind of call that booms across the Tabantha sky. A few Ritos whistle in consensus. “Vah Medoh terrorized our people for decades. Too many Rito warriors took their final dive after it claimed the sky for the Calamity.” 
“It didn’t get you though, Dad,” Tulin says. 
Teba grins, “Right. Thanks to Link. Kaneli?”
“The Rito soar with Link.” Kaneli flashes his massive wingspan. “Destroy it all.” 
“Forget a hammer, the Gorons will take care of anything that needs smashing,” Bludo grunts.
Yubuno clenches his fists and blows out a sphere of molten light around him. “Yeah, goro! We got this!”
“We passed many guardians and shrines during the march here from the desert. They are a map of tremendous loss across Hyrule. The Gerudo cannot remember a time when this technology was useful. We only know its devastation. It is time to let the past go. Hyrule is ready to move forward.” Riju sets her hands on her hips and nods in Link’s direction. 
“Our research…we would be throwing it all away!” Purah cries, and like Robbie, she’s looking her age. Six and completely devastated the grown ups are planning to take away her favorite toy.
“Correct me if I'm wrong, Purah, Robbie, but weren’t the shrines and the Slate originally created specifically for Link? For the chosen hero?” Impa asks.
“Yes, that is correct,” Robbie says.
“And we all believe Calamity Ganon is finally vanquished, yes?” Impa turns to look at the crowd. 
“Mipha’s Grace.” One of the elder Zora crosses his fins at the same time Buliara and the other Gerudo soldiers raise their spears. Teba whistles and the Hylian’s offer the sign of the Goddess with their hands. It is a resounding and unanimous ‘good riddance’. 
“So, with this in mind, have the shrines and the Slate not served their purpose?”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true,” Robbie says. Purah starts pouting. Zelda can see the defeat starting to take root around the Sheikah researchers. Feels it starting to wrap around her own ankles. She feathers a hand up to touch the spot where her voice is trapped in her throat. All those years resisting her father’s guidance and now, it’s the one thing keeping her from damning herself. To this group, so revitalized by new hope, united and rising from a hundred years of ruin, her proposal of clinging to their ashes might feel like poison. 
Like malice.
“I know it feels like a waste, dear sister. Robbie. But I ask that you both consider the possibility this is not another squandering of our efforts.”
“It’s the fulfillment of them.” Paya’s voice is exceptionally steady. She folds her hands over Robbie’s and helps him peel back his fingers from the back of Purah’s chair. 
“The Zora will continue to look to the Sheikah for guidance,” Sidon says.
“It would be foolish to ignore the knowledge of the Sheikah,” Kaneli agrees.
“Like Link said, this is our opportunity to build something new for Hyrule.” Yubono pumps his fist in the air.
“Something better,” Riju adds.
“We will all have a hand in rebuilding Hyrule. From the ground up this time.” Hudson rubs his hands together like he’s ready to get started.
Tulin lets out a cheer. His voice is youthful and hopeful and infectious. The perfect song for the future of Hyrule. A few out Rito echo him and then the Gerudo join in. Then the Gorons, and the Zora and the Hylians. Impa holds her arms out to Purah and both she and Robbie lunge forward to embrace her. Link claps a few times and then finally looks over his shoulder at Zelda. His eyes are brighter than luminous stones.
He has no idea what he’s done. 
The smile was just a smile. A pathetically desperate misinterpretation on her part. He smiles because he’s polite, not because she’s something special or they are together in any of this. 
Link died on the field that day. And with him–
The pages slip from her hands. Her proposal scatters across the grass at her feet. 
She scurries to gather them up and Link immediately takes a knee to help her. Zelda snatches the pages back into her chest and recoils like the wounded animal she is. He blinks at her, a wordless question forming on his lips. The hand outstretched for the pages turns over slowly to offer his palm to her. He’s trying to help her up without any idea he’s the one who put her here.
“What says the Princess of new Hyrule?” It's Traysi’s voice. Probably ready with her pen, eager to draft a report and spit the plan for the restoration out to the Rumor Mill by sunset. 
Her hands are shaking. Dozens of eyes on her, fire in her throat, nothing but a scar on her hand. She glances down at the mark, a nameless cluster of triangles. In stasis, she decided they represented the holy Springs. For a time, she held all three in her hand, but Courage and Power only flowed through her. For some reason, predetermined by fate that has proven nothing but cruel, she is the vessel for Wisdom. 
And Wisdom tells Zelda her thoughts have no value. They never have.  She looks around at the faces of her people. Unknowingly, they’ve not only stolen her newfound sense of purpose–they are making it forbidden. 
And now they are asking for her blessing. 
She swallows what feels like acid and looks back at Link. At some point in her reeling, she’s risen to her feet without realizing it. He remains on his knees, looking up at her with an innocent tilt of confusion, Master Sword strapped to his back. Her body blocks out the sun and casts a looming shadow over his face. The pasture falls away from her. She’s surrounded by cascades of water and trees twisted with age and swarms of fireflies. Beneath her feet, an altar with a space for a traveler’s gift lifts her even higher above him. Zelda tries to keep the horror from washing over her face, but the restraint necessary only makes her feel like she might turn into stone. 
Is it a crown they want her to wear or a halo?
Zelda gathers herself and says the only thing she can summon from the depths of her panic, “May the Light of the Goddess shine upon you.”
—-
The Summit lasts four days. Link has all of the shrines, towers, and the majority of the remaining guardians already mapped out on the Slate, so it is only a matter of divvying up the work. Each group is responsible for their assigned regions and are free to do what they please with the guardian parts once the cores are removed. The Gerudo and the Zora verbalize their intent to destroy all the Sheikah tech in their territories, but the Gorons, Rito, and the Hylians (who stand the most to gain from recycled materials) plan to repurpose. 
The plan is to harvest the ancient cores and store them in the Slate. Link will travel across Hyrule to load the cores into Slate, along with any unwanted materials it has the capacity to absorb.  Once the guardians are taken care of and they figure out how to dismantle the shrines, they’ll destroy the Sheikah Slate, smother the ancient furnaces, and bury the Divine Beasts. They will reconvene as needed to collectively approve next steps. The Sheikah are tasked with what to do with the towers because everyone agrees there is value in preserving a modern mapping system as long as a new network is created.
It is Link’s task to figure out how to handle the shrines since he is the only one who can enter them. He disappears into the shrine near his house the first night only to emerge several hours later, circling it like a wolf. He eventually settles down and appears to just glare at the terminal until the sun rises. He does the same thing the following night and the night after that. Zelda knows this because she’s been watching him from Purah’s second floor window.
Seeing him struggle with it doesn’t make her feel better (okay, it helps a little), and it’s hard to stay upset when she sees how well-received his recommendation is; how necessary it feels for the rest of Hyrule to start planning their future. It’s just when this anger completely deflates, she knows she’ll be left to deal with what actually lies beneath it, as is often the case with her anger, and it’s a sorrow she’s afraid she will drown in. 
“He’s still at it?” Zelda jumps back from the window at the sound of Purah’s voice. 
“What? Link? I wasn’t–” Zelda sputters.
Purah waves her tiny hands and tip toes across the floor to a desk. “Don’t worry about it. He’s a fascinating subject.”
“Why are you up so late?” Zelda wraps her arms around herself. Purah gets a guilty look, but as Zelda draws closer, she hears a soft, excited hum coming from the researcher. Like Zelda’s presence alone lit some internal fuse and Purah is on the verge of bursting into sparkles. 
“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”
Zelda knows this is a dangerous game, Purah used to say the same thing a hundred years ago, right before she launched into an explanation as to why the western castle wall was damaged, again.
“Did you break something?”
“No!” Purah sets her fists in her hips, insulted. 
“Are you going to?” 
“Princess!”
Zelda lifts her eyebrows. 
“Come on, do you want to see what I’m working on or not.” Purah stomps her feet very softly in an exaggerated manner, obviously trying to keep the noise level down. 
“Okay, okay, I promise.”
“Pinky promise! I mean it, I need you to have my back like old times. You were the only reason my research didn’t get shut down back then.”
“It was threatened.” Zelda smiles at the avalanche of memory that befalls her. It didn’t feel funny at the time, – lying to her father, tempting his wrath – but it felt good to protect something she was equally as passionate about. 
“I know.” Purah rolls her eyes. 
“Multiple times.”
“I know! So, so, so?” Purah holds up her pinky and wiggles it at Zelda. Zelda rolls her shoulders back and sighs. 
“Okay, pinky promise,” she says and loops her finger with Purah’s. 
Purah flings open a wide drawer filled with blueprints. She throws the top half of pages to the floor with enthusiasm, mumbling about how Symin can pick them up later, and rummages around the rest with a hushed frenzy. Zelda spots a copy of the new Hyrule map from the Summit with the restoration territories outlined. Purah’s already marked all the Sheikah tower locations and made notes on possible spots for relocation.
Even she’s found a purpose in the path forward. 
Purah fans out the papers hidden at the very bottom of the drawer out on her desk. “I’ve expedited my experiments with the Anti-Aging Rune. I just want to reverse this,” she gestures to herself extravagantly, “and then they can do whatever they want with the Sheikah Slate.”
“You’re going to return to your original state? You’ll be over a hundred and–”
“No. I just want to look old enough so people stop telling me I need to take a nap whenever I raise my voice.” A beat. “And I want to be able to reach the jar Symin hides the honey candies in.”
Zelda scans over Purah’s design, which calls for the Guidance Stone, the Sheikah Slate, and something called ‘cellular maturity milestone marker’ coding. 
“Does Impa know you're working on this?”
“It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than seek permission, Princess. And besides, I’ve already got ideas for a better Slate with an even better name, so that should buy me a royal pardon if I need it, right?” 
As if Zelda holds any authority in any of this. 
Zelda backs away from Purah’s desk and the ugly feelings of jealousy starting to bubble up inside her. She ends up back at the window and turns her face to the cool night air. Link’s pacing in front of the Shrine again. 
“Do you think he’ll figure it out?” Zelda asks.
“The shrines? Yes.”
“He’s always been good at puzzles.”
“Yeah, but so have you. Aren’t you going to help him?” Purah quips innocently. With the way her hushed voice carries in the night, it’s like she's speaking from Zelda’s shoulder.  
—-
Zelda hasn’t spoken to him since the first day. If he’s noticed, he hasn’t made it known. He���ll occasionally catch her eye and smile, but she’s learned not to read into that anymore and hardens herself to any tenderness that attempts to sidetrack her thoughts.
Purah asks her to retrieve the Sheikah Slate from Link when he’s done with it so she can run a trial on the Anti-Aging Rune before Symin wakes up. If nothing else, it gives Zelda an excuse to wander down to the shrine while she’s still deciding if she wants to help him. 
He’s sitting cross-legged on the terminal gate with his chin in his hand when she approaches. The Master Sword lays unsheathed beside him. Weathered and dull, unable to glimmer even in the moonlight. Like her, it hasn’t glowed since the final battle.
It takes a second for him to return from wherever his thoughts are, but she can tell he’s been aware of her somehow since she started climbing the hill up to the shrine. He paws his chin with his fingers and then flops backward in the grass at her feet with a frustrated sigh. 
“Can’t figure it out?” She asks. 
He puffs some hair into his bangs and signs, ‘Not yet.’
She sits down beside him. “Do you think there is a core inside?”
He crinkles his nose and shakes his head.
“You told me you think the Shrines, like Divine Beasts, run on some kind of spirit-based energy, right?”
He nods. 
“But when you clear a Shrine, the spirit of the Sheikah Monk inside disappears?”
“Right.” Link sits up on his elbows and rolls his head around his shoulders.
“But the Shrine stays semi-active, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t that imply a power source remains?”
Link shrugs. Zelda follows the curls of cerulean along the walls of the shrine up to the peak where the Sheikah Eye glows. The symbol always brought her comfort. The presence of a friend, the company of like minds—a buffer of protection against the unbearable amount of pressure building on her shoulders since the day she turned seven. But the symbol feels different now, as most symbols tend to do with time. It doesn’t bring her much comfort. It’s just another thing from her past she has to let go of; the sign of something else evolving without her. 
It stares unblinking and focused on some distance point she can’t see. 
He taps her on the shoulder to pull her attention back to him. A tiny pulse of electricity moves from his fingers down into her belly when he seems to appraise her face before he signs. 
‘Any ideas?’ He looks tired. Overdue for a visit. She can feel sleep reaching for her as well. Her attention drifts back to the Sheikah Eye and she imagines it closing shut. Resting like they both should. Like she could if she had a bed.
A home. 
“You said you think the Shrines work like the Divine Beasts? So in theory, those stopped working because our friends—” Grief, unexpected and sudden, crackles in her voice. She clears her throat. Pivots. “You can’t use their gifts any longer, right?”
Link flexes his fingers slowly. Like he’s just missing something that keeps passing through his fingers. “I let them go.”
She thinks about what King Dorephan said about the Shrine of Resurrection and Link’s soul. How he had been unable to die because the Shrine kept his soul tethered to his body while the waters healed it.  She thinks about eyes closing and Tulin’s cheering and the sadness that comes with at last fulfilling one’s purpose. 
“Can I see the Slate?” She asks. Link unclips it from his belt and slides it over to her in the grass. Purah would slap him if she saw just how casually he handles it. Zelda wants to tell him to be careful, that Purah might be tall enough to reach his face soon, but she has a pinky promise to keep, and the Slate will be gone before too long, anyway. She weighs it with her hands a few times and then stands to approach the terminal. 
“How do you activate the Shrine if there isn’t a slot?” She feels Link come up beside her. He leans over and mimics holding the Slate over the Sheikah symbol with an empty hand. The hair on her arm stands on end in his closeness. Will this feeling ever go away? Or will it always feel like she is about to be struck by lightning whenever he’s near? 
“Have you ever tried to do it again once the Shrine is activated?”
“No.”
Zelda lifts the Slate up to the terminal. Nothing happens. The shrine glows calm and blue, the door stays shut, the Slate screen blank–as she suspects it would. She bites her cheek and hands the Slate back to him. “You try.”
The second he holds the Slate over the terminal, the light at the center of the Sheikah Eye blinks once, calling the Slate to life. He turns over and inspects the screen. The name of the Shrine, which Zelda assumes is the name of the Sheikah Monk whose soul powered it for thousands of years, has a check mark next to it. She assumes it is because Link completed the trial inside. 
Below the name is a single, pulsing command:
> Rest? &lt;
They snap their heads up to look at each other at the same time. 
Link’s shoulders collapse. An irritated puff air escapes his nose. 
Zelda leans over him, presses her thumb against the word, and watches it dissolve into the darkness of the screen. The steel shifts under her feet, and they immediately scramble off the back of the entryway because the Shrine has started disintegrating around them. Link wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him so his body breaks their fall when they hit the grass.
They watch the last bit of light in the Sheikah symbol disappear into nothing. In a matter of ten seconds, the only evidence the Shrine was ever there is a round footprint of dirt. There are no materials to sort through, no cavern to fill in. She shifts and sits between his bent legs, frantically turning on the Sheikah Slate where, on the digital map of Hyrule, the symbol marking where the Shrine was is completely gone. 
“I…I can’t believe that actually worked!” She laughs, collects herself, holds the Slate out at another angle and laughs again.“You were right about the spirit energy,” she insists. Funeral pires, ashes in the wind, a deliberate letting go; one way or another, a soul needs to be put to rest. Otherwise, it just spins like a windmill blade even after the wind is gone. 
“How did you know?”
“I’m just good at solving puzzles.” Purah deserves a honey candy for reminding her of that. “It will speed the restoration up significantly if that’s all you need to do…” Her voice trails off slowly. He’s got his head next to hers, eyes fixed on the Slate in front of them. It takes everything inside her not to fold back against him, so viciously desperate for touch – for his touch – her hands start to tremble with urgency. The last drop of anger left inside her vanished with the shrine.   And as predicted, the misery left behind is deep and agonizing and it goes by another name:  
Loneliness. 
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beheworthy · 1 year
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Jane, listen to me. You must not give up. You must finish what you've started. Why? Because you're right.
Chris Hemsworth and Natalie Portman's chemistry in Thor4 is unanimously hailed as the best thing about the film. While I absolutely agree with the consensus, for me, it started here with this scene 11 years ago.
This is the big romantic scene where the couple falls in love as they connect with each other. For example, Tony and Pep's dance in IronMan1: Pep is in a backless gown which she makes a point to mention and they almost kiss. Diana and Steve dance in the snow in Wonder Woman: they are also dancing close to each other, she even says so and it directly leads to them sleeping together. Arthur and Mera roam about in Italy in Aquaman: he catches her fall and they almost kiss as well.
These are all scenes I love from movies I love. I'm just using them as a reference to point out what director Kenneth Branagh does differently here. This scene is where his brilliance shines. He gives us romance without anything sexual or even sensual. It's just heartfelt sincere emotion between the two characters that elevates it to something more than just attraction.
It begins with Jane talking about the significance of the place she's brought Thor to, Thor thanking her for helping him, and her making a joke about hitting him twice in their aggressive meet cute, which he so graciously takes (post-Ragnarok Thor would never). He then gives her her notebook so she can continue her research. It's a humbling moment for the cocky Crown Prince as he'd so casually promised to bring everything back but all he could really bring was a notebook.
This is more than anyone has done for her because no one even believes in her research, let alone help her continue it. She understandably gets upset about having to start over with no support + with a hostile organization on her back now. And then comes the most important bit, he encourages her to keep going BECAUSE she is right. Not a cheesy 'I believe in you' or a fake deep 'believe in yourself' or even a superficial 'don't give up'. But keep going because you are right. Plain and simple. It gets through to her because it's straightforward and honest.
He then elaborates on it by explaining to her about the cosmos which directly furthers her research. He actively helps her research and supports her in the true sense, something she really needed and rarely got. And that becomes the foundation of their connection. The lighting is perfect, the ambiance is perfect. The actors do an admirable job. They don't touch at all, mind you. They're sitting with some distance between them. They don't even look into each other's eyes. Nothing romantic is said or done here. Yet, it’s romantic.
This scene is quite literally the reward of Thor’s hero’s journey: her. He learns kindness, sincerity, and humility from her and tries to emulate it going forward. She is his reward.
We get the emotional scene later when he dies for this town of 30 people. We get the big damn kiss. He literally gets her her research back. We get everything. Later. This scene was solely about the connection that sets the base for their relationship. It's the why of their love story. Both Thor and Jane are instrumental in each other's growth and make each other better people. She made him worthy and he made her believe in herself. I love the idea that love should be something that empowers and inspires you.
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greenerteacups · 3 months
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Hello! Firstly I want to thank you for sharing the brilliance that is Lionheart, it is truly a masterpiece and is canon now to me. All of your characterizations are incredible, Draco is of course amazing. I also adore how you write strong women. Hermione obviously but also Ginny, Fleur, and tonks are brilliant. I have to ask who is your fan cast for your characters? Does it change as they get older? Curious about Draco and Hermione but would love any info on all of them.
First, thank you for a really wonderful compliment. Second: this is a really fun question! I hope my answers aren't interpreted as definitive versions of how the characters appear in Lionheart; in fact, some of my fancasts actually look quite different from how I picture the characters in my head, because... well, nobody looks just like I picture them in my head! So I'm going to just rattle off a few people who I think would be good casts in terms of stage presence and knack for the role, in addition to looks!
I've written somewhere before about my Draco not being Hollywood Handsome, but a specific kind of inbred aristocrat WeirdHot, like a younger Skarsgård energy. A young Jamie Campbell Bower, maybe? He has the cheekbones for it. Hermione I'm much more picky about, because she canonically (for both!) is sort of plain — not necessarily because of her features, she just doesn't put effort into her appearance — and pretty much every recognizable actress I could name is going to be some order of knockout. Dixie Egerickx, maybe? With a good wig.
Ginny is a really hard role to play (and bless Bonnie Wright, she really tried, it's not her fault the script gave her peanuts). She's a jock, and she has that kind of jockish "I'm a dick but also somehow the kindest person you'll ever meet" energy that's hard to play. I could see Sadie Sink doing a great job here — her work on Stranger Things shows off that combined toughness with vulnerability really well. Fleur has an ethereal, dainty, almost unnerving beauty, very birdlike, which reminds me of Tamzin Merchant (Georgiana Darcy in Pride and Prejudice 2005, for ref.) Tonks gets to change all the time, but when Draco sees her, she's giving Bellatrix, so like — Alexandria Daddario, probably? But take down the eyes, like, 15%.
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lazulirus · 1 year
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Fair Play
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• The things you had to do as a law student... for sure you didn’t expect to descend into the infamous Night Raven College to argue with one of their dorm leaders.
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• Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x reader (gender-neutral) (not MC) • Genre: fluff • Word Count: 4.6k • Warnings: none • Note: aka Lazu using her dubious law knowledge for fun
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It seemed like a law student never had vacations.
Sure, for some being able to go through the historical halls of Night Raven College would be better than a visit to any tropical country or rest in the best hotels. You would probably enjoy it too, if it weren’t for the stressed student leading you through the never-ending corridors, the silly anemone on his head the only colour in the gloomy school. His glances towards you were like spells you could never dream of using - sharing that stress of his with you. But despite that, you gave him a smile every time he looks back; the lawyer should always be levelheaded.
“So… Casey. What does he look like?” The meaningless question was better than the tension created by the silence between you two - the jazz music from the cafe was annoying buzzing rather than a kind distraction. 
“White hair, in a stupid suit like all Octavinelle students, you’ll recognise him by a shit-eating grin.”
“Hm~ You described him so nicer just a few days ago.” 
“Because I didn’t know he was a scammer then!” When a few clients and workers - either wearing distinctive hats or anemones - shot him a glance he got timid, and added in a whisper: “I just now see the red flags, okay? Just, don’t trust his looks.” 
“Eh~? Little fry is late for his shift~!” 
The arguing between Casey and a ridiculously tall man dressed loosely in a suit becomes another background noise. The pleading of being innocent and menacing cackling were drawing the attention of others, but people were quick to look away as if looking at the tall student for too long was like a curse. Maybe it was? You wondered, your gaze jumping from one twin to another - the second one a bit less scary looking - you didn’t know very well how magic worked after all.
“And you have to be our esteemed guest,” This twin, despite face being the same, was way more elegant and with a soothing aura; it was proof of how much a well-kept attire could do. You stealthily take a glance at your clothes, wondering if you were underdressed for the occasion; all of them in suits, maybe Octavinelle being a mafia wasn’t a joke. “I’m Jade Leech and that–” He gestures towards the twin who was dragging your guide towards the kitchen. “–was my brother Floyd.”
You nodded, giving your name that they probably already knew. The eccentric Headmaster you met a day prior promised to give them all the needed information. “Azul is waiting for you in the VIP room. Shall we?” Before you could do anything more than nod, Jade’s hand was between your shoulder blades as he guided you between tables. There was nothing to be scared of, at least you tried to make yourself think that. Azul was around your age, and sure, he was in prestige school with the future to be an outstanding mage, but at the end of the day, he was just a student. It wasn’t like you will compete with him on the ground of magic and spells, you were almost equal! 
Those thoughts quickly left your head as the grand VIP room suffocated you with its brilliance, and Azul overwhelmed you with his mere presence. Calm and collected, already sitting on one of the couches, his presence perfect from the tilt of the hat to the shine of his boots. Meanwhile, you can only clutch onto the strap of your bag; hesitating. 
“Ah, Welcome! I’m Azul Ashengrotto, the dorm leader of Octavinelle, although I’m certain you already knew that.” Like a true gentleman, he stood up to greet you, the light sparkling delicately in his glasses. You no longer were surprised that so many idiots had fallen for his charm, not when such pretty lips were letting out such a smooth, calming voice. 
Your looks were a little plain, but Azul was smarter than to judge a book by its cover - there was a reason why Crowley would allow you to visit Night Raven Collegue outside of events. Especially on such short notice, as only yesterday he was informed about the visit. A noble? An esteemed mage? You weren’t someone who Azul recognised and it only made him more intrigued; the mystery caused fascination and hopefully many opportunities.
Jade leaves you two for a moment, short enough to only allow you to sit on the opposite sides of the table but long enough for him to return with a steaming hot pot of tea. As the butler-like student - you wondered if it was in his nature or was it a role he took in this bizarre place - was pouring it into the cups, Azul spoke up:
“I don’t usually grant wishes for outsiders, but since our kind Headmaster allowed it–”
“Oh, I’m not here for your deals.” You open the laptop on your lap, the white pages of the documents illuminating your face even so slightly. “I’m here to represent my cousin - Casey, first-year student of Heartslabyul, and prove that your contract was unfair; null and void.” 
The tea pours over the cup.
“...Excuse me?” Jade fumbles with the napkins, correcting his mistake as his intrigued gaze jumps from you to dumbfounded Azul. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“No. Mister Crowley didn’t tell you?” It was the only reason why the headmaster allowed you to enter - he believed a student could find a similar language with another student. “Casey gave me all the information he could, although I was disappointed to know you didn’t give him a copy of the contract. It’s a bad practice.” Looking for proper articles would be easier with the contract, but you didn’t have time to demand a rightful copy; you had to work with what you had. …Which wasn’t much.
“This… this is unacceptable,” He said adjusting his glasses, and there was no longer kindness in his expression, the blues eyes glaring at you. “I should have been informed that it will be this kind of meeting.”
“I think it’s fine. Your clients also came unprepared.”
“We never turned away anyone who came with assistance to understand Azul’s service in a more in-depth manner,” Jade chimed in, standing behind the dorm leader like a shadow, “the fact that no one ever came with such help is a problem beyond our control.”
As you ignore Jade’s comment and kept yourself busy with preparing all the information and opening all needed Codes, Azul was sweating. It wasn’t visible, just a few pearls hidden by the shade of the fedora, but it was there; reminding him of his own anxiety. Way too many students came to his doors full of teeth and claws but always with more bark than bite - only able to scream and moan about how all of it was unfair. But you came silently, sitting in front of him with the calmness of a true outsider; no matter the results, it won’t truly affect you. other students were just crabs and snails, but you were a wave; unaffected by a tiny octopus.
Azul adjust his glasses again, despite them being perfect like everything in his little sand castle - or so he thought as now it felt like a wave was coming. Creeping, inching slowly but quietly, like a silence before a storm.
“The fact that you’re both minors should make this contract null from the beginning,” Azul takes a deep breath and counts to four. “Unless I’m mistaken? Casey said that you’re seventeen.” Five heartbeats before he let out his breath.
“It is true… Although I wouldn’t agree with the former statement.” And there he was, with the voice lacking the grand intonations from the beginning but also not as hasty as the moment before. Calm and collected, making you raise an eyebrow even so slightly; was his nickname of octopus coming from how quickly he changes his act like a camouflage? “It was an agreement that provided him with notes for exams, it’s simply a minor matter of everyday life for a student.”
“Article twenty of Civil Law Code if I remember correctly.” Jade allowed himself to walk behind you, the coach still separating the two of you, but his face was uncomfortably close as his fingers skimmed over your laptop’s keyboard, quickly finding the needed article. “[A person limited in the capacity for legal action may, without the consent of the statutory representative, conclude contracts belonging to contracts commonly concluded in a minor current matter of everyday life.]” From the corner of your eye, you could see eerily close how his lips bend in a delicate smile. 
“However,” You say, your lips trembling to not form into a scoff; you scroll up to reveal another paragraph, Jade’s eyes looking with interest. “[When a person incapable of legal acts has entered into an agreement belonging to the agreements commonly concluded in minor matters of everyday life, such an agreement becomes valid upon its implementation, unless it entails gross detriment to the person incapable of legal acts.] Don’t you think having him work for till he graduates is a bit excessive? I think it’s grossly big punishment that doesn’t suit the crime.” 
“Punishment? Crime? I think you’ve misunderstood something.” Azul said, spreading his hands with a pained expression; as if your words hurt his very pride. “It was a fair agreement. The article you cited - article fourteen I believe? Excuse me for being unsure if it’s the first or second paragraph - only works for a person incapable of legal acts. Given that your dear cousin is seventeen he has limited capacity for legal actions. Thus, he was well in his right to agree to this contract and fully aware of what he was agreeing upon.”
“Still…” You mumbled before taking a sip of the tea; it was better than you expected. “Tilia tea with raspberries, I’m delighted you’re enjoying it.” Azul chimed in with a smile that could almost make you forget how scummy he was… scummy with a good taste, though. It was impressive and a bit unnerving how quickly he saw the change in your expression, despite how soft it was. The clank of porcelain was the only answer Azul got as you put the cup back down.
“Anyway, I still think your contract is unfair.” Azul raises his eyebrow, both surprised and amused by your fighting spirit; with a nod he encourages you to go on. “First of all, let’s make it clear: The first part were you giving study guides in exchange for… talents; magic; something like this. Then the idio– Casey,” Azul chuckles but hides it quickly by coughing into his fist, you don’t even notice as you look through the Code. “I guess we can say that him getting high marks thanks to your guide was like a promotion of the item…" You mumbled the last part more to yourself, but Azul could hear every word. As you go through your notes about the case, Azul couldn’t help but stare a little - what a peculiar case you were yourself. You didn’t come here with empty arguments - like many others, throwing accusations and trying to ‘gotcha’ Azul without a second thought - you were actually thinking. Not only selfishly looking from only your perspective but also his, like just now, already saying argument he had on the back of his tongue. Trying so hard to predict his next move… Oh, what a shame it was you weren’t part of the student body.
 “Since he didn’t fulfil his part of the agreement the punishment was being your slave–”
"No no, they aren't slaves.” Azul said with a chuckle; you didn’t find it funny at all. “I would say they're high-class workers on contract work.”
“They even get employee dinners," Jade commented.
“Contract work requires wages but since they’re working off their debt to you for failing their part of the agreement I won’t even go into that…” Peculiar and intelligent, how refreshing to talk with someone on his level and avoid unnecessary squabble. “But still, since it’s Mutual Agreement, tell me, [The debtor is obliged to repair the damage resulting from lack of service or improper service of the obligation,] how my cousin passing with not enough points was damaging and working to the bone in your cafe is repairing those damages?”
“Well, that’s rather simple. I spent ages creating that guidebook, I also had to sacrifice my time to prepare the contract and make the deal with your cousin. All that time could be used for managing the Monstro Lounge. Since Casey didn’t uphold his part of the agreement, he wasted my time.” Those blue eyes of his became a bit sharper, the smile gaining another layer, more cunning and mocking “And as you said, his results being unimpressive hurts the reputation of my precious guides. If I can’t profit from them, I have to put more work into the cafe. Would you buy a guide if it only guaranteed to pass the exams with mediocre results?”
“If I was desperate, sure. As far as I know, only this type of people came to you.” It earned a chuckle out of Jade, but his gloved hand wasn’t quick enough to cover the sharp teeth peeking out. The predatory feature makes you gulp, wondering if Jade was really needed for the discussion - it was probably fair that he was helping since Azul wasn’t informed, but his creepy behaviour was making you uneasy. His two-coloured eyes catch your gaze and your heart became heavy when he smiles even wider; sharp razor teeth. This for sure was intimidation! 
You still wondered how anyone could fall for such a contract - especially given in such a shady environment and company! Casey praised his ‘secret help’ since the moment he got it, he wouldn’t shut up about it every time you messaged each other. At first, you praised him, proud that he was getting serious about exams for once, but after learning in detail about the contract you didn’t know if you should strangle him or worse. If Azul’s guide was so good, why would he gamble on Casey getting into the top 50 results? He would have to either believe that Casey won’t use it, was too stupid or knew that despite the guide, getting such high marks was… impossible.
“paragraph two of article three hundred eighty-seven… [A party that knew about the impossibility of the service at the time of concluding the contract, and did not correct the other party's wrong assumptions, is obliged to repair the damage that the other party suffered because it concluded the contract without knowing about the impossibility of service.]”
“Oh my, that’s quite the accusation.” His chuckle was irritating, and the smugness was written all over, but the corners of his lips didn’t reach blue eyes showing his disappointment, his opponent turned out to be nothing more than another whining crab. “It’s harsh to say that the conditions I gave to my clients were impossible…” 
“I talked with one of Casey’s friends,” you attack quickly, “Ace, I think? He and his other friends quoted that you had esteemed that with your guide, Ace should get at least 90 points.”
“That’s relatively a lot for someone afraid he won’t pass at all, no? I think it only proves how useful my guide is.”
“He got 92 and despite that failed the contract requirements. So you knew that he won’t be able to archive the goal of being in the top 50.”
“I said that we will get at least, so that means–”
“How many people had your help? Casey said that there were around two hundred students; that’s already quite the competition and to that, we have to count other naturally gifted students. The dorm leaders already take seven spots… To that we can count the vice dorm leaders, I can bet they’re as talented as dorm leaders since they got that title, so it would be 14 spots out of 50… that leaves 36 spots! And that’s not counting other smart students without the titles!” 
“Indeed, the 30 students on top of the list had perfect marks; five hundred points, among them, were dorm leaders: Riddle Rosehearts, Malleus Draconia, Vil Schoenheit or Azul Ashengrotto.” Jade added and even his dorm leader’s glare - one screaming Traitor! - couldn’t shut him up nor make him stop smiling.
You cross your arms. If those with the guides had around 90 points, getting even on the 50th place was impossible - not even a challenge, it was a dream! Not doable, not achievable no matter how hard one would try. “Don’t you think it counts as impossible?”
“Even if…” Azul avoids your gaze, but quickly returns - he would rather look at your alluring confidence than the irritating enjoyment of Jade. “They were aware of the knowledge that dorm leaders have to exhibit. And when it comes to clients, I couldn’t simply inform them of others forming the same contract. Details such as who made and what contract they made with me and why it was made; that's all privileged data, a matter of client confidentiality.” He gains back his confidence, yet he adjusts his glasses once again. “It was written on page 59; details about confidentiality. To put it simply, none of the sides can talk about the details of the contract until it’s finalised. I was simply abiding by the contract for the sake of my clients.”
“So the contract was faulty,” You tilt your head to the side. “No? If you tell them, you break the contract and if you don’t, you break the law. No matter what you do you can’t legally fulfil your obligations.” 
Azul exchanged glances with Jade, the blue gaze was alarmed and didn’t resemble the amusement in mismatched colours. Then, he looks even worse, pale and almost sick when his companion smiles at him, oh so kindly. 
“Oh my, I see that this conversation might go on for a while longer,” he picks up the cold and half-full cups. “I’ll go fetch more tea.” 
“Jade–!” But the door was already closed, leaving the two of you alone. You try to keep yourself busy even though your constant writing was nothing more than nonsense lines of letters. You didn’t want to meet Azul’s glare. It was heavy, annoyed - no, mad, and you couldn’t blame him for that reaction… but also couldn’t spare him. 
“It would be way easier if we had a judge or something…” You mumbled, the clicking of the keyboard filling the room. “Uh, the Heartsbyul has a lot of rules, right? I think their dorm leader would be good to resolve this matter fairly, at least Casey said that he is all about fairness and rules.” 
It was not a good idea. At all. Making it public that his contracts were nothing but perfect and watertight… A cold sweat collected on Azul’s skin. If they learn of it - those fools, idiots that just want to slack and then beg for help - all of them will come back with the same excuse, all of them will think of him as the fool they can screw over. Mockery from Leona, judgment from Riddle… 
“I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” He said a bit too quickly, and he sees the tower of his sand castle crumbling under the water as you smile at him first time since you came here. It was sickly sweet; pretty. “I cannot release all of my debtors from the contracts due to that, but I can–”
“Nah, I don’t care about that.” You cut him off, shrugging. “I just want my cousin out of this.” You weren’t working pro bono, which came as a surprise, although it shouldn’t. He got so used to everyone in this school having an ulterior motive, a second face that he foolishly thought that outsiders might not be like that - your similarity to him was more prominent than Azul expected, or perhaps selfishness was simply a trait of all land and sea dwellers.
“Then… I release Casey from under the contract and in exchange,” he disregards your scoff with deliberate ignorance, “I would like consultations with you.” You noted already that Azul smiles a lot, no matter if the cards were in his favour or not - whenever he had to fake a good hand or really had it. It was fascinating how such a young man was able to control himself so skillfully, that his words were so soft; innocent; like gentle music but you heard a screech on the melody. 
“What exactly do you mean by that?” And to your surprise, the scummy businessman doesn’t seem annoyed. 
“I want you to look through my next contracts; find any oversights.” A rather easy request, no?
“Only once a week, and I don’t want to rewrite or fix them, just point them out. And I’ll do it with the duty of care expected from a mere student.” Seemingly, yes, but there was so much more. Pointing out that you were a mere student was important – that way Azul couldn’t expect from you the knowledge and skills matching those of a lawyer. Range of your duties, how often and for how long… From the way he was so tight-lipped with those informations, you could guess other students didn’t ask for them, probably. Were all of them all stupid as Casey?
“Hah~ Once a week is for sure a reasonable request, given how busy we are as students.” The light reflects beautifully in Azul’s glasses as he gets up, like a playful wink that would match the self-satisfied smirk; it makes you feel as if you didn’t have the upper hand. The metallic groan of the safe, the clacking of perfectly polished shoes and the view of the white-as-snow glove that contrasted strongly with the golden contract. It all was like a movie experience, way too pristine and perfect, even Azul’s lulling voice:
“Here is Casey’s contract. It will become null the moment we sign ours.” He lays the contract on his desk; enough to be in your view but far away for him to feel safe. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed with your knowledge, no one before fought so well against my contracts.” After a moment of shock, you smile faintly. 
“The feeling is mutual.” Your eyes were focused on putting the laptop into the case, making sure to not scrap it with the zip. “...I kinda admire your work. I mean, it’s not very fair towards others, but it’s just school stuff so… I just want to say I’m impressed with that stun you pulled.” The pen stopped, and Azul’s gaze moved towards you. Sitting behind the great, wooden desk, you felt like a student in front of a teacher; he was perfect just like the moment you first saw him, composed to the point you could think the conversation never occurred, the deal between you was never made. As he doesn’t comment - you’re not sure if Azul even blinked - you started to ramble, flustered. “Just, I’m sure it’s not easy to pull something like this. Over two hundred students? And you actually helped them pass? And it was so hard to find any problem with your contracts! No wonder you get nicknamed an octopus, you’re as smart as one!”
“I am an octopus, though…?” He blurted out.
“What?”
“Have you never heard of mermen?” Your awe-struck face makes Azul chuckle way more honestly than he ever expected himself to do. You were so crafty yet so ignorant about the basic magic part of this world; he would be offended that such a person beat him in his own game if it wasn’t this fascinating. It felt like losing a game of chess to Floyd - unexpected, but only awakening a craving to figure out the bizarre way of thinking of his opponent. “There are a few of us in Night Raven College, me included.” 
The gleam of excitement in your eyes was also Floyd-like - Azul thought before getting back to writing; the first letter, fresh with ink was shaky. “Woah~! Now all of Casey’s rambling make sense.” 
“He also mentioned you.” Azul smiled fondly. “He threatened me with his lawyer cousin and how here I am, regretting I didn’t take him more seriously.” Maybe then he wouldn’t have an upcoming headache from stress, but he also wouldn’t meet such an interesting person. “It’s a shame that person of your talents wasn’t lucky to join us here, you would make a great addition to the Octavinelle.” Such sweet words, made of honey; the sweetness seeping into you, making your heart heavy with pride and cheeks warm. Inviting you to get closer, stand in front of Azul, your hip resting on the side of the desk. 
“Perhaps…” His writing becomes slower, the letter slightly heavier as Azul takes his time writing each of them. “After we’re done with this, I could show you around, the College is pleasingly quiet around this hour.” The way he glances at you, his big eyes barely visible makes your heart skip a beat and your tongue goes limp in your mouth. He wanted to spend more time with you? 
The paper was pushed towards you, but Azul doesn’t lose eye contact, maybe for a moment when he averts his gaze, his smile apologetic. “Although I still have after-class activities… The headmaster should be kind enough to look the other way if you would be willing to join me there, it’s nothing magic-related.” 
There was only a buzz in your head; a mix of excitement and fluster. A tour around the Night Raven, taking part in their activities, even if they weren’t the real classes - it all was unreal, too good to be true someone would say. But when the stress of the encounter left you, leaving only sweet praise and an even sweeter smile from a handsome man, it was hard to not take the pen and the opportunity. 
“No way.” His smile drops and so does all the glow and splendor around him. You barely stop a scowl, unsure if you should even point it at the shady man or the paper. “I’ll be around for the following days. I’ll come to read and sign the contract personally, no need for Casey to be the middle man.” 
“I was only looking out for you.” Azul’s tone was just a bit colder, even though still kind, he no longer was shy or rather no longer acted like it. “No need for you to waste your time on the formalities.” It was said without any malice, you weren’t even sure if you could hear mocking in his voice.
“It is kinda my future job.” You scoffed, no longer able to hide the disgust and your anger grew stronger when Azul didn’t even flinch. “I guess the offer is no longer valid, so–”
“I was serious about showing you around.” Azul cuts in, muffling the noise of crumbling paper, just a flash of disappointment on his face when the unfulfilled scheme goes to the trash. It was a good plan, but perhaps the execution of it wasn’t worth it; now his heart was rowdy, and blood hummed in his ears. “My praise wasn’t a lie. I truly admire your skills.” But the honey no longer allured you, even if looked so well.
“Then you can treat me to some cake when I get back to sign the thing.” You suggested, no, demanded before outreaching your hand with another order. “Your phone.” Azul raised an eyebrow. 
“Is this extortion?”
“It’s writing my number.” You fought yourself to not smile at his completely-lame joke. “Unless you want me to come over every day to check if you’re done?”
His heart skip a beat. 
“Gladly.”
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heretherebedork · 6 months
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Mhok being a spot of brilliance in Day's otherwise blurry and plain vision is just so beautiful considering how much pain and guilt are in Mhok's life and how dark he often feels.
He called himself worthless but he was the only one that Day could find at his lowest and he worked to make sure that he could be found by the one person who truly needed to find him.
Mhok knows what happens when someone is left alone in the dark, both figurative and literal, and he will never do that.
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eruditetyro · 4 months
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sweetmetals.//art, artist, process//created, creator, creation.
RAINER MARIA RILKE/MAGGIE STIEFVATER/BREAD & PUPPET/STIEFVATER/JOHN SINGER SARGENT/STIEFVATER/B&P/STIEFVATER/B&P/STIEFVATER/EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY/STIEFVATER/RILKE. further description under the cut.
text reads:
"we cannot know his legendary head/with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso/is still suffused with brilliance from inside,/like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,/gleams in all its power. Otherwise/the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could-" - Archaic Torso of Apollo, Rainer Maria Rilke trans. Stephen Mitchell
"-them. If one didn't know any better, one might mistake this for an eccentric art sale for discerning buyers.
But the pieces themselves soon corrected that impression. Jordan could feel their collective power radiating toward her. Her body felt awake, alert, ready for action. It was like caffeine. Speed.
No, it was like being real." - Mister Impossible, Maggie Stiefvater
[letterpress print] "art soothes pain! Art wakes up sleepers! Art fights against war & stupidity!" - Cheap Art Manifesto, Bread & Puppet Press
"-White only drove this home. They weren't great because they were technically perfect. There was something else. Something more. Whether that something could be named--sweetmetal?--she wasn't sure. What she was sure of was that pieces like that all had a way of seeing the world that no one else had noticed before." - Mister Impossible, Maggie Stiefvater
[picture of El Jaleo by John Singer Sargent]
"-would last his entire life. Was this what it had in common with Madame X? Was it it that the painting changed his life, or was it that he knew that it was going to change his life? What was soul? Declan didn't know, but he liked trying to find out." - Mister Impossible, Maggie Stiefvater
"Art sings halleluja! Art is for kitchens! Art is like good bread! Art is like green trees! Art is like white clouds in blue sky!" Cheap Art Manifesto, Bread & Puppet Press
"As her eyes burned, Hennessy swiped a thin, bleeding splash of red on one of the index cards, and then, with the marker, suggested the lines needed to show that it was an anatomical heart, bleeding paint. Beneath it, she just had time to jot angrily: OF FUCKING COURSE.
Her heart was broken, that was why she was really upset, her heart was broken, broken, broken because Hennessy wanted so badly to be as good at living as Jordan was and she never even got close. She flicked the index card across the table at Farooq-Lane.
The mouse woke up." Greywaren, Maggie Stievater
"ART IS FOOD. You cant EAT it BUT it FEEDS you. ART has to be CHEAP & available to EVERYBODY. It needs to be EVERYWHERE because it is the INSIDE of the WORLD." Cheap Art Manifesto, Bread & Puppet Press
"Jordan was beginning to understand how it might be possible for ley energy to be tangled into the art-marking process, too." Mister Impossible, Maggie Stiefvater
"And she could see in her mind's vision plain/The magic World, where cities stood on end.../Remote from where she lay--and yet-- between" - Collected Sonnets, Edna St. Vincent Millay
"-when they make the art. I thought when I first saw one that it was because the art was special to the world in some way. A real original, you know? But it was explained to me later and this makes more sense. They are special to the artist in some way. They are an original for the artist, something new for them, something personal for them. The subject matter, sometimes, how they felt when they were painting it, others. That is what seems to make some of them into sweetmetals. I do not thing it is the artist who does it. It is, like, the spirit of the time. There is a French term-" Mister Impossible, Maggie Stiefvater
"Otherwise this stone would seem defaced/beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders/and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:/would not, from all the borders of itself,/burst like a star: for here there is no place/that does not see you. You must change your life." Archaic Torso of Apollo, Rainer Maria Rilke trans. Stephen Mitchell
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eretzyisrael · 5 months
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by Mark Jacobs
The irony is that most of the loudest choruses come from groups that have never supported Israel’s right to exist. Their hypocrisy is transparent to anyone who knows about these groups or the money behind them. They portray themselves as moral crusaders for justice, but, in reality, they’re just plain old-fashioned Jew haters. Many of them are the worst kind, actually, because they support the destruction of Israel and the genocide of the Jewish people.
Perhaps it’s a good time to remind Hamas apologists that for years Hamas has been launching rockets into Israel — during a time of a so-called “ceasefire” — trying to kill as many Jewish civilians as possible. For years, I have had an app on my phone, “Red Alert,” that signals when Hamas rockets are launched into Israel. The alerts are nonstop and have been for years. Maybe 1% of the time, if that, I see something about it in the media. In southern Israel, in particular, grabbing your children and sprinting to a bomb shelter as the rockets are coming is a regular part of life. Yet the world has been silent. Who can recall a single time Hamas was lectured by the world community for these constant attacks?
Israel is facing a conundrum with only horrible options. As of this writing, Hamas is holding 137 hostages. It is hiding out beneath or besides densely populated areas, which Hamas uses as human shields. At this point in the war, Israel has discovered more than 800 tunnel shafts in Gaza, all designed to kill Israelis. Many of these tunnels, we now know, contain vast caches of arms, sleeping barracks and air- conditioned meeting rooms that are underneath schools, hospitals, mosques, homes, even one in a U.N. office. As long as these terror tunnels exist, the existential threat to Israel continues.
The reality is that since the day of its inception 75 years ago, Israel’s enemies have never accepted its right to exist, leaving Israel in a perpetual state of war. The first war it loses will be its last. The current cast of armchair quarterbacks are quick to give their advice from safe spaces thousands of miles away. Most have never been to Israel nor studied it enough to understand what it’s like to live under constant attack. Or, more probably, they simply don’t care since they’d just as soon see Israel destroyed.
Yet, they incessantly lecture Israel as if they are morally superior or possess military brilliance that Israel never considered. Both are laughable.
Their lectures are unnecessary, ignorant and hypocritical. Give it a rest. Israel has its hands full at the moment and will conduct this war as effectively and mercifully as it sees fit in order to continue to survive.
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gumnut-logic · 8 months
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WIP Monday
Kayo had been in the Appalachians when John broke comms silence. The fact he broke that silence just as she was about to forcibly enter a building and detain a GDF spy spoke urgency just by itself.
TI New York was under attack.
She didn’t swear.
But she did whip out her tranq gun and dart the man through the window of his log cabin. The fact he was wearing a similar plaid shirt to her heavy lifting brother was just insulting.
“John, tagged but not bagged. Get London in on this please.”
“FAB.”
She was running as she spoke. S was hidden as she always was, the breeze through the trees rattling against her hull in these tight confines the only giveaway that she even existed. Woods were not Kayo’s favourite. Jungle was worse. Plains and deserts and high cliffs gave her line of sight to see them coming.
‘Them’ was everyone. Trees hid far too much.
She didn’t need her ‘bird to be visible, grabbing invisible rungs as her ladder lowered, leaping up into her cockpit. The world’s most quiet VTOL engaged, lifting her above the trees, high enough to let Shadow’s wings unfold.
She still marvelled at her ‘bird. Wings as thin as origami paper and speed that almost rivalled One. Almost.
Which meant she was on approach to TI New York within moments.
The building was architectural brilliance. Older than any other TI building, bar the factory in Kansas, it was a spike of eco-conscious glass reflecting the New York skyline.
Thunderbird One was perched on the roof.
Five was churning situation reports via One’s sensor array. Everything was mostly unknown. An emergency signal had been triggered, and the seventy-second floor was a blindspot. It was as if the floor didn’t exist.
Acknowledging Five and shunting the feed to her wrist, she perched S ever so silently on the side of the building. Ignoring the wind buffeting at this height, she slipped out of Shadow and into the shadows.
-o-o-o-
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midnightsun-if · 5 months
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I know you just shared Unscripted but what would the ROs be in the fantasy story you’re thinking of making? Do you have a title for it?
Omen of Ice would potentially be the name for it… It’d be a romance focused fantasy IF set within the Court of Vela’thian (with some adventures elsewhere) after the MC was chosen to be betrothed to the Elven King; for reasons that will be uncovered.
Daeron — The Elven King — Your betrothed, you don’t have to be happy about it, especially if your MC isn’t attracted to men, but royalty has a sense of duty and The North being linked to Vela’thian can only mean good things for your people. Standing at around 6’3”, Daeron cuts quite the figure within his ceremonial robes— a beautifully crafted crown sits atop locks of raven, some strands curling gently across his forehead— sharp golden eyes taking in the room, assessing every nook and cranny for potential threats.
Larak — The Orc Commander — Seeing an Orc isn’t something you were expecting upon entering Vela’thian— not after centuries of war between the elven nation and the Infernal Plains— but Larak isn’t someone you could miss. Light green skin stretches over taut muscle, his hulking form towering at 7’2”; he’s a mass of old scars and tattoos. Dark auburn locks are shaved on the sides and kept in a long ponytail down his back— only being intercepted by the broadsword across it.
Shanaera — The Dark Fae Assassin — The Royal Spymaster of Vela’thian; Shanaera is the closest to the King, being longtime friends. Golden hair falls in a cascade of waves and curls down her back like a waterfall, pooling at her hips. Lightly sun-kissed skin bringing out the brilliance of her amethyst colored gaze; grand wings situated on her back, the feathers a brilliant iridescent black. She stands at around 5’11”.
Calypso — The Siren — Meeting a Siren isn’t something you’d ever imagine you’d do, but it seems like anything can happen within Vela’thian. Dark brown skin, intercepted by areas of iridescent blue scales, complements the sea green of her gaze. Midnight blue hair falling down her back in voluminous curls that brings out the warmth within her smile. In her human form she stands at around 5’1”.
There would be two gender selectable ROs added to the list as well— one being your childhood best friend (as I enjoy the trope).
Hopefully this answers your question!
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dalishious · 1 year
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Hello! Sorry in advance for this.
I was reading the TV tropes page for Dragon Age: Origins, and someone makes a case under Fridge Brilliance that the tranquil brand makes people autistic. Which is obviously monumentally offensive.
In lieu of that, I was wondering if you had any thoughts about neurodiversity in Dragon Age, particularly for mages? I think Sera and Cole in particular have strong neurodivergent traits, but Morrigan could also be read as autistic, which would be a great rebuttal to the above.
It’s not just monumentally offensive, it’s just plain fucking wrong. The Rite of Tranquility rids people of all their emotions. Autistic people are not without emotions—some of us just have trouble expressing and/or understanding emotions. (And hell, some of us are considered too emotional.)
I think that, based on the reactions to characters who can be easily read as neurodivergent, the wide population mostly misunderstands them and frequently labels them as just “weird”. But sometimes it gets dangerous, and people are literally imprisoned for it.
neurodivergent mages are probably at a huge risk of being accused of consorting with demons.
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