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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

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Beauty and the Beast | Chapter 35

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34]

Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Beauty and the Beast inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking and a human reader from a nearby village Taglist: @captainchrisstan @rebleforkicks @yjrevolution @majahu @honey-wine @accio-boys @achromaticerebus @solomonssimp @tired-ass-show-girl @dreamlessnight @daddy-long-legolas @sleepyamygdala @coopsgirl @penguinlovestowrite @midsommar-nights @whore-of-many-hot-men @elvyshiarieko

note: Don't ever listen to a word I say again because I split the ending into two parts so the final chapter (genuinely this time!) will be posted tomorrow because it's all finished and I just can't wait!! Though I'll be kind of sad for this to end!

Two days later, you had finally stopped crying at every opportunity. You had half wondered if you should flee the kingdom and spare Thranduil the pain of watching you wither and die before his very eyes, but you knew that it had never actually been something you were seriously entertaining. Merely the panicked scrambling of a mind scared to break the already fragile heart of the one it loved so deeply.

Leaving Thranduil now had never been an option, not really. You could not have lived with that and it was true that it would cause him pain just as much as losing you in the future would. You did not wish to hurt him at all but doing it right now felt far more cruel, especially when he had finally blossomed into this wonderful being who had learned to open up and feel love once more.

Besides, you were quite selfish, and you could not be without him.

So you accepted, a little reluctantly, that you loved Thranduil as he was and he loved you as you were - a mere human - and you were going to marry him and live out your days in his realm before one day, far too soon, leaving him to mourn you beneath these very trees.

Your father had been able to tell that something was wrong, of course, but you were loath to talk about it with anyone else in case you started sobbing again. You assured him it was fine and he accepted it even if he did not fully believe it.

He smiled and laughed more in the days since he awoke and you found great joy in seeing him interacting with the elves, even with Thranduil who he had once feared and wished to rescue you from.

You walked in on the two of them one day, your father laughing heartily over a glass of strong elvish wine and Thranduil lounging in his chair with a glass of his own, an amused chuckle leaving his lips.

“What have I walked in on here, hm?” You asked with a soft laugh of your own as you sat down at the other side of the table, propping your elbow up and resting your chin on your hand as you looked between the two.

Thranduil was the one to speak, your father too busy trying to get his laughter under control. “Well, your father was regaling me with stories from your village.” He raised his chalice to his lips and threw back the rest of the contents, his brow quirked in amusement when he set it back upon the table. “However, I fear that the wine is much too strong for him, considering that he has been laughing over something he is certain he said out loud to me, but in fact only said in his own head, for the past twenty minutes.”

You shook your head as your eyes turned on your father. “For Eru’s sake!” You tried to scold him but it didn’t quite hit the mark and it wasn’t long until he looked as though he might fall asleep at the table any moment.

“Elros!” Thranduil’s voice beckoned to the elf he could sense lingering outside the door. You turned to watch Elros enter and you smiled kindly at him. He seemed much less jittery than last you had seen him as he returned the smile.

Thranduil gestured to your father. “Would you be so kind as to escort our friend here to his room? I fear he shall keel over any second.”

Elros assisted your father in standing, the man putting his arm around the elf’s shoulder and leaning in close as though he were about to tell him a secret, but all that came out ended up being a jumble of nonsense. Elros looked a little concerned as he walked your father from the room and it was all you could do not to laugh at the poor fellow.

You turned back to Thranduil as the door closed and found he had risen from the table and moved towards a little desk at the back of the room. When he returned, he lay out a little box on the table in front of you and opened it up. Curiously, you watched as he unveiled a collection of beautiful looking rings. You tilted your head as you looked up at him, silently asking what they were for.

“I would like you to choose one.” He explained, looking up at you as he gestured a hand towards the rings on the table. “I have chosen yours, it is only fair, after all.”

“You want me to pick a ring for you to wear?”

Thranduil nodded. “Once we wed... I shall wear it, as a symbol of our love.” He paused so briefly you nearly missed it. “For the rest of my life.”

You bit your lip lightly, glancing back down at the rings. They were all so beautiful, you didn’t know where to begin. You wondered what he would prefer but he offered no assistance, wishing it to be entirely your decision. Eventually, you settled on one of silver to match yours, but instead of ruby coloured gems set into flowers, this had emerald coloured stones twisted into leaves. He seemed satisfied as he put all the other rings away, smiling as he studied the one you had chosen.

“What... ring did... did Caleniel choose?” You asked after a long pause, unsure if you should mention the Elvenqueen at all. He had told you all about her the day of her begetting, when you had sought him out after he’d shut himself away in her chambers. Still, you did not sure if it would be too far of you to bring her up out of nowhere.

While he hesitated, he did not seem upset or angry. His gaze dropped to his hand with a tender smile and he held it out to you, slightly wiggling his finger. “This one...”

You reached out for his hand, brushing his skin gently as you studied the ring. “She had a good eye.” You said softly, smiling as you released his hand.

“Well, yes.” He shrugged, pulling his hand back. “She took me as a husband, did she not?” Thranduil joked in return, smirking as he poured himself more wine.

You blinked at him and shook your head, trying to look far less amused than you actually were, though the twitch at the corner of your lips likely gave it away. “You are terrible.”

“Yet you love me.” He teased, watching you over the rim of his glass as he lifted it to his lips once more.

You shot him a scathing look but ended up laughing in spite of yourself. You rolled your eyes at him. “I do love you... ego and all.”

Thranduil feigned a look of indignation as he placed his wine back down and leaned towards you. “Hmm.” He hummed and you shivered slightly as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

Your eyes drifted shut and you leaned into him, sighing as he kissed a line from your ear down your jaw and to your throat.

A knock at the door caught your attention and you heard Galion’s voice on the other side. “My lady? Myleth is looking for you, she wishes to go over your dress and your hair one more time.”

You groaned softly. “I cannot wait to wed you, Thranduil... but I fear I have become Myleth’s personal doll.”

“One more week, my heart.” Thranduil chuckled against your skin, pressing one last kiss to your throat before he pulled back and rose from the table. “Just one more week.”

“Why can I not look at it?” You asked with a heavy sigh, your head tilted back slightly and your eyes on the intricately carved ceiling above you.

Upon entering the room, Myleth had (as seemed to have become routine) made you close your eyes and turn away from the large mirror. “It’s a surprise.” She huffed, shooting you a look that you wouldn’t even see, but you knew her enough by this point to realise she’d done it anyway.

“It is just a dress.” You muttered childishly.

“Excuse you!” Myleth playfully smacked your hip from her place down at the hem of the dress she had helped you put on blind. “That attitude is exactly why you are not seeing yourself in this dress until the day you are presented as the king’s bride.” She shook her head, baffled. She had full faith in the fact that you would change your mind when you actually saw yourself all beautifully dressed on the day... and she would be gracious enough not to throw it in your face!

You had grown used to her dressing you up by this point and, as someone who had never grown up with many dress options, you didn’t really care what you wore. You didn’t fully care what you got married in, truthfully, for it wasn’t as important as being married, being with Thranduil’s. While you did want to do it, this was in some way merely a stepping stone, and one that you felt had been a long time coming.

You idly thought of Vermund and how angry he would be if he could see you now. A smirk tugged at your lips. He would absolutely hate this. Good.

“Do you have much more to do?” You asked, bored of studying the ceiling. You wanted to check on your father and then go and find Legolas or maybe finish the book you were reading.

“No, just... a little... there!” Myleth stood, smiling. “All done.” She took a moment to study the dress, her gaze softening as she thought how lovely you looked in it. “Alright. Close your eyes!”

When Myleth had finally released you from her evil seamstress clutches, you made your way down the hall in the direction of your father’s room. Just to check in on him before you went to the library to read the rest of the day away. There was still so much to do but today you did not wish to do any of it.

Rounding a corner, you came upon Tauriel, sitting alone on a bench in the quiet hallway. She saw you coming and immediately stood, pasting a smile onto her face, but you had noticed her quickly wipe away a tear. You frowned and quickened your steps.

“What is it?” You asked upon reaching her.

Tauriel shook her head quickly, smiling at you. “No, no. Nothing. Do not worry! Everything is well.”

“It doesn’t look well.” You said, tilting your head at her. “You can tell me.”

Tauriel was quiet a while as she bowed her head, gaze fixed on her feet as she seemed to wrestle with the decision of whether or not to talk to you about whatever was on her mind. When she looked up, it seemed that she had decided to speak on it.

“Do you remember the conversation we had before?” She asked quietly, glancing around a moment as though afraid of being overheard.

You paused a second as you thought back and then nodded. “About Legolas?” You asked, thinking about the day you had left Thranduil in the library, upset about the way he seemed to hold disdain for Tauriel in regards to his son. You recalled the way you had fled the library after he entered it and the way he had come to try and offer an unsure apology later, however your ire had waned by that point. It was the day you found that copy of Beren and Luthien in your room.

Tauriel nodded, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “I am afraid I lied to you.” She shrugged and you knew what she meant. She was saying that she did not simply see Legolas as a friend, but more, and you had already known it. She had not outright denied it but she had not confirmed either.

“Why were you crying?” You asked her then.

“Well, I... I...” Tauriel floundered briefly, not wishing to say anything to upset you or make you feel bad, not when you were so happy and everything had fallen into place. She was happy for you and she was happy for her king, of course she was, she had seen and felt the changes and nothing could be better for him, or you, or this realm... and yet. “It is... it is just the wedding, my lady. All the talk and the...”

You nodded in understanding. You hadn’t thought about it but it was probably difficult to see it, especially if she was fighting feelings. Maybe she was having similar thoughts as you had on that day - maybe seeing Thranduil marry a mere human made her wonder why she would not be deemed good enough for his son. “I see. Tauriel...”

She shrugged quickly and turned from you. “Forgive me. Please, I am alright. I must go, I have things to attend.”

She fled before you could say anything else and you blinked after her for a while, even after she had turned the corner and was out of sight. Then you turned and hurried back the way you had come and made for the stairs that led you back to Thranduil’s chamber.

He looked up in surprise as the door burst open and you came rushing in. He rose from behind his large desk, papers forgotten, and quickly took in your expression, trying to figure out what was wrong just by looking at you.

“Why do you not allow your son the happiness you have allowed yourself?” You asked once the door had closed behind you.

Thranduil blinked, taken off guard. Of all the things that had rushed through his mind, this was not one of them. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Indeed, I heard you, yet I do not understand the question.” He said with a slight bite in his tone, eyeing you as he walked around the desk.

“I see the way he and Tauriel look at each other.” You said.

At this, Thranduil rolled his eyes and turned away, suddenly understanding what it was you were getting at.

“There!” You said, moving closer to him. “Thranduil... if you can marry a lowly human, why cannot your son marry a Silvan elf?”

He whirled back round to look at you with a deep frown. “What are you talking about? Who said that?”

“Tauriel.” You scanned his face. “Do you remember the day in the library? When you thought you had done something to upset me?”

He nodded. This was something neither of you had spoken of since and he had to admit that he was still curious. “Of course.”

“I had asked Tauriel about... about her and Legolas, because I had seen things and I thought they were together. She told me that you would never allow it. That she was but a lowly Silvan elf, not of royal breeding, not suitable for your son.”

“What does that have to do with you fleeing the library?”

You hesitated for a second but figured that there was no use in secrets between the two of you now. “I thought that perhaps, if you thought such of Tauriel, then what must you think of me.”

He tutted a sound of disapproval and took a step closer, taking your face into his hands as he looked back at you. “I said this to Tauriel once, yes.” He sighed and you could see in his eyes that he did regret it. “But I did not mean it.”

“Then why say it?”

Thranduil was quiet for a long while then, his face thoughtful, almost a little sorrowful. “I just wished... to keep them apart.”

“Because you don’t think her good enough?”

“No.” He said firmly. “Because I am not blind either. I have seen their stolen glances for years upon years. I have heard their familiarity and their inside jokes. I have seen them grow close... too close.”

“But why?” You implored, unable to understand anything he was saying. If it was not for the reason that Tauriel (and maybe even Legolas) believed, then... why?!

“To spare them!” He snapped a little, frustrated by your prodding, though he was not angry at you, you could tell that easily enough at least. He did not want to have to admit it, to say any of this out loud, but he knew that he must now that he was faced with you.

You blinked up at him, lifting your hands to cover his own, still on your face.Your thumbs brushed against the back of his hands. “Spare them from what?”

“My suffering!”

He did not need to say any more, for you understood almost immediately. He dropped his gaze from your face to the floor and you shuffled closer, removing your hands from his and wrapping them around his neck, pulling him close. He let himself fall against you, his arms going round you in response.

Thranduil had said what he had to Tauriel all those years ago, he had kept himself in between her and his son like a wedge, because he knew that what they shared was real... and that a loss of that magnitude was catastrophic. Especially with Tauriel and Legolas always in the forest with their weapons, fighting spiders and orcs and the like. Thranduil had striven to keep them apart to spare them the pain that he knew came from it... the pain he had drowned in all these long years.

It was another cruel act from a shattered heart, you realised.

You stood like that for a long while before you turned your head to kiss his face. “It is like you said the other day, my love... why should pain or loss mean we forsake the happiness that these years before will give us?”

Thranduil inhaled a shaky little breath as he pulled back and then he managed the tiniest of smiles and a small nod, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

The day of your wedding had come at last and you found that you had woken with more nerves and anxieties than you had anticipated. You had thought it would be simple, you would walk through the formalities and then... you would be Thranduil’s wife, you would stand beside him and support him, and most of all you would love him.

For as long as you were able.

But you were shaking as Myleth weaved your hair into a beautiful tangle of braids and curls.

She smiled kindly at you in the mirror as she tied a red ribbon. “Breathe, dearie.”

She was doing her best to suppress her excitement, you could tell, and it almost made you laugh. You had grown to truly love her during your time here, she had made those first few days so much easier for you... and now you were marrying the king you once feared and despised! Who’d have thought?!

Next, she helped you into your dress and, when you turned to look at yourself, you were struck for a long moment. For having next to no input in the entire thing, you found that you loved it, just as Myleth knew that you would - she knew you so well by now, of course she would find something that was utterly perfect. Utterly you.

“Oh...” You breathed out, blinking back a few tears as it hit you that this was actually happening.

The door opened but you barely registered it until you heard a soft gasp and turned, your father standing staring at you. “You are a vision, my girl!” He beamed, moving to embrace you.

Elvish customs were different from those of humans, but Thranduil and you had decided that you would merge the two together, considering you were joining from two separate worlds.

You hadn’t thought you minded but he had insisted upon it and you found that you were glad for it as you neared the hall with your father. He would be ‘giving you away’ as it were, walking you towards Thranduil where you would do some kind of ring exchange and then there would be a feast... though you knew that elves technically did not consider themselves truly wed until after... consummation. It made you blush, to think of it. The night you had agreed to marry him, he had taken you to his bed, but he had merely kissed and touched you... all over, yes, but it was not what you knew tonight would be. You shivered with anticipation but you could only be nervous about one thing at a time so you turned your mind back to the ceremony.

Walking into that hall was the most nerve-wracking moment of your life even if your father’s firm hand grasped your own as you clung to his arm. However, it all got easier when you actually saw Thranduil. He was standing waiting and he looked almost as uneasy as you did, but setting his sights on you seemed to have the same effect as it did you.

Everything else seemed to melt away as you neared him, though your legs were still shaking beneath you with what was practically the entire kingdom watching you. You still held some small concern that they would not like this but you felt no such emotion emanating from the crowd and it eased you further when you even heard cheers from some after Thranduil kissed you in front of everybody.

Even Legolas and Tauriel were in higher spirits than you had ever seen them, as you sat down at the table with Thranduil. You wondered at their merriment until Thranduil leaned down and whispered in your ear that he had had a long, fruitful discussion with them after your talk... and that they had his blessing.

It made your heart soar that he would do that and you felt a surge of emotion, rewarding him with a kiss on the cheek. Every time you thought you could never love him more, he surprised you.

The rest of the evening passed in a whirl of good wine, plenty of food, and lots of singing and dancing as it seemed the elves were so very fond of. You danced with your father and sobbed into his shoulder when he told you how proud he was of you... and how proud your mother would have been.

Then Thranduil had cut in and the music had changed again, to the same slow tune that had been playing that night of your first dance, during Mereth Di a Rhîw Menel.

This time it was not Legolas who changed the song, but Thranduil.

All eyes in the room were fixed upon the pair of you as spun you around the floor, but the two of you hardly noticed, only seeming to have eyes for each other.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil fanfic #beauty and the beast

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whos-hotter-jjba · 3 days

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Statistics: from Preliminary until 4th Round

Huge post alert, I got excited and put my 10 excel pages to good use and made graphs to see which parts are more or less favored in the polls! I am not considering the Second Chance Round in these analyses. All the graphs have alt text describing them (and giving numbers to things that are harder to read)! Please excuse my ugly excel graphs, I can't spare the time (or the effort) to make them in Python or a better graph program to be cute :(

So, this is an overview of how each part has been faring until the end of the 4th round.

Characters eliminated in the Prelim round didn't even make it into the main bracket, and haven't been considered for the Second Chances. Parts 3, 5 and 6 had a lot of eliminations in Prelim round, but since they're some of the parts with the most characters, they held their own. Part 3 in particular has a lot of less than memorable characters, so that's pretty much to be expected. Looking into the Prelim round specifically, we can see that, too:

Steel Ball Run had the most characters I felt the need to submit to preliminary checks, but it was also the part with the most characters to survive! Also, all the Battle Tendency characters in prelim round (George Joestar II and Mario Zeppeli, the dads) survived, which is kinda shocking. I also realized only much later that I never even added Stroheim to my list, because I mostly like to forget he exists, and it worked. So, uh, if there's any Stroheim fans here, sorry I guess?

First Round had a lot of characters from parts 5, 7 and mostly part 8 dying early on, but also a lot of characters from parts 4 and 5 surviving. Phantom Blood, Steel Ball Run, Jojolion and Jojolands lost the majority of their characters, but Phantom Blood and Jojolands had few characters to begin with.

We can already see (oh god why do I write like this is a report for college I'm sorry) that Battle Tendency has a tendency (haha) for surviving. Seriously, it's a part that loses minimally every round. But in Second Round, Jojolion loses its last characters. Don't worry, there's some of them fighting their way back in the Second Chance Round! But I did NOT see that coming. I thought at least Josuk8, Yasuho, Kaato and Jobin would have lived longer, but they were unlucky I suppose. Jojolands is barely hanging in there, too! Dragona is its last hope by this round.

A lot of parts are down to one character by the end of Third Round, and Dragona lost, in a shocking turn of events! Two parts are already out of the competition (without considering Second Chances), and Phantom Blood, Stardust Crusaders and Diamond is Unbreakable are holding all their hopes in Dio, Avdol and Jotaro respectively. It's kinda sad that Phantom Blood and Diamond is Unbreakable are holding all their hope in a character that could have been from another part, if they had lost a duplicate matchup right at the beginning.

And now, in Fourth Round, only five parts are still in the running, since Avdol and Jotaro lost (and, sadly, won't be coming back). Surprisingly, Battle Tendency (a part with very few characters) has been holding strong, being carried by Kars, Joseph, Caesar and Lisa Lisa (who lost only just now). Dio has been carrying Phantom Blood on his back for a while (we'll see if Erina or Jonathan come back to give him a hand), Bruno Bucciarati is the last hope for Vento Aureo, and Gyro Zeppeli survived a Steel Ball Run purge. Jolyne and Ermes managed to pass Fourth Round without any losses for Stone Ocean.

So, our survivors so far are:

Dio Brando (Phantom Blood)

Kars (Battle Tendency)

Joseph Joestar (Battle Tendency)

Caesar Zeppeli (Battle Tendency)

Bruno Bucciarati (Vento Aureo)

Jolyne Cujoh (Stone Ocean)

Ermes Costello (Stone Ocean)

Gyro Zeppeli (Steel Ball Run)

Good luck to your favorites, and until the next round! Let's find out who the ultimate Jojo hottie is <3

#not a poll #statistics #hottest jjba character bracket

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oddaodd · 3 years

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· Wailing Teapots ·

Summary: When Tommy begins suspecting of Y/n's true allegiances he goes and questions her in her apartment only to discover a dark secret. (Angst/Fluff)

Warnings: Implications of abuse. (Nothing too graphic but just in case).

Author's note: I'm back! It feels so good to write again! My life has been a bit hectic lately, but I hope I can continue to make time for my writing because it honestly feels like coming back home after the most exhausting of voyages. Anyhow I hope y'all enjoy this and have the loveliest of days. ❤️

Three strong knocks on the door stole Y/n’s attention from the live fire burning in her fireplace. With quiet feet she tiptoed to the door and placed her hand on the doorknob and stood still hoping to hear something that could tell her who it was behind the door, but she could only hear her own heartbeat beating violently in her ribcage as she held her breath.

She slightly hated herself for being afraid, but she couldn’t not be afraid, not with all the letters that had been delivered to her home.

“I know you’re in there Y/n”

As soon as she recognized the voice as Tommy’s, she finally breathed again before partly opening the door a weak smile gracing her features when she took in the sight of him. Before she could ask him what he was doing there he pushed the door open and allowed himself inside.

The smile vanished from her face in an instant and she quickly closed the door. There was something different about him, something that made the hairs on her arms stand up in trepidation. His eyes didn’t look like they had done a few nights prior when he took Y/n to the outskirts of town for a walk. The kind of walk in which one shares the kind of conversations that makes people grow closer together, the kind of walk which ends with a gentle kisses and fleeting touches.

“This is a nice place” he commented taking off his peaky cap, not even sparing Y/n a glance as he began walking slowly through the apartment which though small and plain held a considerable amount of expensive yet tasteful looking knick knacks that brightened up the whole place despite the old furniture that had beed there when Y/n first moved in.

“You couldn’t have waited for a formal invitation, could you?” She asked in a light tone still standing by the door, in the hope that it could change Tommy’s odd aura, but he ignored her question all together

“Almost too nice, wouldn’t you agree?” He asked picking up a vase and examining it before finally turning to look at Y/n.

“Tommy?” She asked, not really knowing why was he acting so strange.

“I know I pay you fair wages” he began, putting the vase down fixing his eyes on the fireplace where small traces of burnt paper rested “but I highly doubt you were able to make yourself of such an array of treasures with what I pay you.”

“All of this came with me from America.” She said feeling like she ought to explain herself and though her answer was an honest one, Tommy didn’t seem convinced, nevertheless, he hummed in mocking understanding before clearing his throat .

“Aren’t you gonna offer me tea?”

“Sure…where are my manners?” she said with a nervous laugh before walking to where her stove was and putting a kettle on.

Tommy followed her closely and drew a chair from her flimsy kitchen table before sitting down and taking notice of her shaky hands as she tied around a bit in the kitchen with her back to him as he sat on her favorite chair.

“Wish you had told me you were coming, I would have..”she began as she opened her pantry to put away some bread.

“You’ve been burning letters” he interrupted, not being able to shake off the image of the paper remains.

Y/n stilled for a moment before closing her pantry, thing which he noticed.

“Yeah, I don’t have the room to keep every single letter I get ” Y/n said, a defensiveness lingering softly in her words.

“I agree” Tommy said in a cold tone “specially when you are getting so many of them. Paul tells me he delivers at least 10 a week here” he continued, referring to the mailman who after being questioned by Tommy forgot all about post confidentiality.

“They are my mother’s” Y/n stuttered out.

The teapot then wailed, making her jump slightly before going to remove it from the stove and finally turning around to go and pour Tommy a cup.

“Right” Tommy said, his eyes not leaving Y/n’s figure as she poured the tea.

“Yeah, she’s ever so passionate about plants, been telling me all a-a-about her new greenhouse.” She continued pressured by Tommy’s heavy stare and silence.

Tommy offered a small cynical smile that Y/n didn’t see, she didn’t want to look at him. She felt like crying for she realized just then how suspicious she looked.

The sound of the chair being drawn again teased at Y/N’s ears, forcing her to look up at Tommy who was calmly walking towards her. She had never been afraid of him, but she couldn’t help but back away as he inched closer to her, her eyes widening.

“Who is Clyde Attenborough?” He asked producing another letter from his pocked like the many ones Y/n had been receiving for a while now. Same stamps and everything.

Color drained from her face at the sight of the letter and she found herself unable to produce an answer as her back came in soft contact with her pantry.

“What does he know? He asked.

“Where I live” Y/n whispered sorrowfully as a tear finally slipped down her cheek. Her eyes being for mercy.

“What have you been telling him?”

“Nothing” she answered truly.

“I bet he pays generously to know how the company works”

“I swear im not working for anyone else” Y/n stuttered, finally understanding why Tommy was so suspicious. Being his secretary, she knew plenty about the skeletons the family kept.

“Then why are you crying?” He pressed.

“Because you’re scaring me.”

Her words seemed to have an effect on Tommy for he immediately backed away, throwing the letter on the table, his back to her.

”I’m not gonna hurt you” he stated, beating himself up for corralling Y/n like that. His voice much less menacing than mere seconds ago. “Who is Clyde Attenborough?”

“I haven’t been honest with you” she finally confessed sniffing. To hell with everything.

At this Tommy turned around to look at her an unpleasant mix of emotions swimming in his eyes.

“Im married” she sobbed “Clyde’s my husband”

For the first time in a long time, Tommy was caught off guard.

“I came to Small Heath because I ran away from him, I figured he’d never find me but..” She said taking the letter in her shaky hands as if the thing were to blow off in any given second “I guess I was wrong. I-I don’t know how he found me”

She shifted her teary gaze from the letter to a shocked Tommy “I swear im not passing information” she chuckled sadly, the knot in her throat choking her a little.

Tommy stood glued in the same spot, not knowing what to do. His world had come crashing down when he began suspecting of Y/n’s alliances after Polly suggested he look into it. A pretty American girl, moving to a grey English town, taking up a job that was exhausting at best. It reminded him a little too much of Grace.

Now that he knew the truth , he didn’t feel any better.

“Is he dangerous?” He found himself asking after a few seconds of silence.

Y/n sniffed as she walked to her fireplace “I wouldn’t have left if he wasn’t” she said as she threw the letter into the crackling flames.

“Is he in Birmingham?”

“He keeps writing that he’ll come get me if I don’t go back, but im not sure” she answered.

Tommy fought the urge to go up to her and take her in his arms and instead put his peaky cap back on before heading for the door.

“I’m sorry” he whispered before stepping out of her place, The guilt of intimidating her in her own house gnawing at his insides and the newfound anger her husband created present on his drive home.

The next day Y/n noticed as she peeped out the window two men, both in peaky caps standing at the entrance of her apartment complex.

Three more days passed and Y/n was again surprised tby the sound of three knocks on her door as she read one evening.

“Its me, Y/N” Tommy’s voice flowed through the door shortly after the knocks.

Y/n quickly got off her couch and made her way to open the door. Her eyes falling on Tommy’s apologetic features.

“It’s dealt with” he said in all seriousness. The thick accent she loved so much vibrating through her ears.

As soon as she registered what Tommy had just said she let out a strained breath, her lips turned into a tired smile and a lone tear slipped out her misty eyes.

“Wanna come in?” She asked after a few seconds, feeling happier than she had felt for days.

“Is this a formal invitation?” He asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips, relieved that his antics from a few days prior hadn’t maimed Y/n´s trust.

At his question she just smiled, looking at him lovingly before taking hold of his hand and pulling him into her apartment before pressing her lips to his in a soft yer passionate manner. Without breaking the kiss, Tommy then closed the door.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @lilymurphy03 @slytherinicequeen

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders angst #peaky blinder angst #peaky blinder one shot #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders one shot

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the-modernmary · 3 years

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chess, not checkers || a. hotchner x f!reader

Summary: Cross-examining Agent Hotchner should have been a lot more simple than it had been. But when the questioning slips out of your control, you find yourself being profiled right there in the middle of the courtroom. Amazing how one stranger can know you better than anybody you've ever met.

Contains: SMUT! 18+ only, minors DNI. Fingering, (light) choking, semi-public sex, adultery, anger sex, enemies to lovers, edging, lawyer hotch <3

Word Count: 8k+

Comments: This is so heavily inspired by “charcoal grey” because we all know how hot he was in that scene. Thank you to @angelfxllcm for being an absolute godsend as I wrote this and being the most supportive friend ever. (If you haven’t read her work, you absolutely should!)

“Fucking FBI and their selfish ass schedules,” you grumbled as you hurried through the hallway of the courthouse, your intern Robin on on your heels. “Court gets pushed back for a week because Agent Hotchner just had to leave with them on a case instead of working remotely, and then expects us to drop everything to go to court the second he gets back to D.C. As if we don’t have jobs too. As if I don’t have six other cases sitting on my desk that now have to be pushed back because of him.”

Robin scrambled behind you, nodding along to every word that left your mouth. “Does this happen with the, uh…”

“BAU,” you supplied.

“—BAU, right. Do court cases usually get pushed back for them?”

You shook your head as you checked your watch. A glint caught the corner of your eye. Shit, your ring. You hadn’t expected to go to court, and completely forgot to leave it at home. You pulled it off and slipped it into the outside pocket of your bag, hoping nobody noticed.

“No. Most cases from the BAU never go to court,” you explained. “There’s enough evidence against the people they arrest that it’s almost always a plea.”

The Bankers Box in Robin’s hands almost slipped as you placed another file precariously on top of it. “Then why is this case going to court?”

Your step faltered as you processed her question, and you couldn’t hide the disbelief on your face. “You did read the brief for this case, right?” you asked, unsure if you really wanted the answer, except her embarrassed blush and averted gaze gave you enough of one. “Seriously? Okay, well, first of all, because of that, you won’t be sitting at the attorney’s table with us. Instead you’ll be in the public seating. I won’t weaken my case because you decided to be unprepared. If this happens again, you won’t be welcome to join me in court at all, am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Deciding to take pity on the poor intern, you sighed as you started your explanation. “Our client claims that his arrest was unlawful and therefore none of the evidence they found should be usable. I’m inclined to agree with him, so we’re fighting all of the charges that were made with evidence found after the arrest.”

“So you don’t think he’s guilty?”

“I don’t ask that question. I’m not God and I’m not his priest, I don’t need to hear his confession. I just need to get him out of unjust and illegal charges.”

Robin’s eyebrows furrowed. “So he’s going to walk free? Even after everything he did? How do you sleep at night?”

Fucking Christ, how did this girl even get into law school? You rolled your eyes, suddenly regretting your decision to take on an intern. “No, he’s not going to walk free. He’s going to get a lesser charge, because everything else was obtained illegally. And I sleep very well, actually, because my job isn’t some episode of Law & Order. Less than 10% of my cases ever go to trial. I’m not here to suddenly convince juries that the evidence is wrong. My job is making sure that everybody is given their constitutional rights, that the police are doing their jobs correctly, and that the State isn’t over-punishing. Any cop knows that, and if you ever come across one that doesn’t, you know that you should look into those cases even further. You have to realize, criminal defense lawyers—”

“— are the last line of protection against a corrupt system.” You turned to see your assistant, Marcus, making his way towards you, briefcase and your spare blazer that you keep in the office in hand. “I see you’re giving her your famous anti-prosecutor lecture.”

Marcus helped you slip on your blazer over your satin button up, his hands lingering on your skin for just a little too long to be considered professional, and it made you shiver in anticipation. “God knows she needs it. Thank you, Marcus, for bringing these so quickly. Were you able to get the physical copies of Agent Hotchner’s files?”

Marcus held up his briefcase. “All right here. Although I have to say, I’m a little lost as to why you need his service records.”

The three of you turned the corner to enter the courtroom, your heels clicking on the tiled floor. Robin obediently took her seat in the public viewing area while you and Marcus pushed through the swinging door to settle at your table. “I’ve heard stories of Agent Hotchner’s testimonies. He used to be a prosecutor, so he’s not easily tricked, but he is prideful and will defend his work. I’m going to use that to my advantage. It’s like I always say, practicing law means always playing chess, never checkers.”

Marcus took the seat next to you, making sure to sit close enough that his knee brushed yours the whole time. “You know, I was thinking, this case is complicated,” he whispered, “And we haven’t combed through everything yet… It could take more time than we planned.”

You smirked, knowing exactly what he was insinuating. “Agreed. I’ll tell Tony I have to stay late at the office tonight.”

Before Marcus could continue his flirting, you were distracted by the door to the judge’s chamber opening, revealing the back of a man in a black suit. “Thank you again, your honor, for the continuance,” came the deep timbre of the man, and oh. You certainly weren’t expecting that. “A young girl was able to be reunited with her family this week because of it.”

The man in the doorway turned, and your breath caught in your throat. He was tall and buff and expensive-looking and absolutely gorgeous. His suit was tailored to fit him perfectly, the sleeves of his blazer straining against his biceps. He carried himself with an aura of confidence, like he belonged in the courtroom, and he was making his way directly towards you. Unconsciously, you separated from Marcus, putting as much distance between you and your assistant as possible without raising suspicion.

The man said something to the prosecution before turning to you, hand outstretched. He said your name as a greeting, and your name had never sounded so good. “I’m Aaron Hotchner.”

When you stood up to shake his hand, you tried to ignore the way his eyes raked down your body, or the way the two of you held on just a moment too long to be considered proper. It felt as if he was looking right through you, learning all of your secrets as though they were written on your body. No, you knew that look. He was studying you. “Agent Hotchner, it’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Counselor. Please, call me Aaron.”

You raised your eyebrows in Aaron’s direction, still shaking his hand, and it made your skin burn. You dropped his hand. “I’m just glad we’re able to get this case done and over with. Hopefully with no more delays.”

His eyebrows quirked upwards in what could only be described as shock. “I see your reputation precedes you,” was his only reply before going to his respective seat, and if he noticed you watching his every move, he made no indication of it. That being said, you definitely felt his gaze on the back of your head as the judge entered the room and the session began.

As the proceedings dragged on, you and Marcus continued to talk strategy, his hand finding its way to your thigh ever so often. You also continued negotiating with the prosecutor, both of you flashing Post-It notes of potential plea deals that you would be willing to accept, always careful to keep it out of the eyes of the judge and jury. By the time Aaron had been called to the stand, the offer given to you still wasn’t low enough. Fine, if the prosecution wanted to make a fool of themselves, so be it.

You listened to Aaron’s testimony with the prosecution, completely enraptured. There was something about the way he spoke, so full of authority and confidence, that made the entire room drawn to him. He was incredibly intelligent, that much was clear, and despite the many years since he had actually practiced law, that prosecutor candor hadn’t left him. Staying focused on the case had proven to be more difficult than previously expected. You found yourself staring at his lips, and it didn’t take long for your mind to conjure up some obscene and explicit situations starring the man in front of you.

Eventually, his eyes caught yours, and he watched you, his lips — god, those lips — quirked up in a smirk. Aaron watched you expectantly, and in the light of the courtroom, his eyes were almost the color of whiskey, and you wanted nothing more than to drink it all in.

A sharp “Counselor” broke you out of your trance. In the corner of your eye, you could see Marcus looking at you in concern, but he was the furthest thing from your mind now, especially as Aaron let out an amused huff of air.

“Counselor, does the prosecution wish to cross-examine the witness?” the judge asked with barely hidden annoyance, making you think that it probably wasn’t the first time she had asked the question.

You stood up quickly, smoothing down your pencil skirt as you did. “Yes, your honor. Thank you,” you said, trying your best to keep your voice steady as you noticed Aaron’s eyes trailing down your bare legs.

The cross-examination started normally, and Aaron answered all of your questions with careful precision that only a lawyer could pull off. He seemed to know exactly where you were trying to go with your questions, and easily sidestepped any unflattering implication you were trying to make. Long, biased questions were met with short, clipped answers, not giving you anything to work with. Whatever move you made, Aaron was right there, two steps ahead with you. Never in your life had you met somebody who could follow you so easily or could match your wit without so much breaking a sweat.

It was exhilarating.

“Agent Hotchner,” you started, hands clasped behind your back. “Could you please explain to the court how profiles are used when finding and apprehending suspects?”

Aaron sat up a little taller in the witness box. “Using behavioral research and past case studies, we’re able to construct what we call a profile of the perpetrator, or unsub. Anything they do can give us insights as to who they are — their victims, what weapons they use, even how they dispose of the bodies. Once we have a profile of who we believe is committing these crimes, we have our technical analyst run the parameters through her system. From there, narrowing down our search is easy.”

You nodded slowly, pretending to mull over what he was saying. “For clarification’s sake, in layman’s terms, you build your profile off of assumed psychology, and not concrete evidence, is that correct?”

The muscles in Aaron’s jaw flexed, a sure sign he was gritting his teeth. “Behavior analysis is a tool, just like any other—”

“It’s a yes or no question, Agent,” you interrupted, and oh, he was not happy about that.

His tongue darted out from between his lips. “The research we use for behavior is—”

“Yes. Or no.”

Aaron hesitated, his frustration building up to palpable tension that settled in the courtroom like a thick fog. You weren’t giving him a chance to explain or show off anymore, didn’t allow him to be seen as the smartest person in the room anymore, and that was getting to him.

“Yes,” he conceded, grimacing as if admitting that was physically painful for him.

“Thank you,” you replied, and he caught the unspoken that wasn’t so hard now, was it? even if the rest of the room did not. You walked back over to your table, snatching up a piece of paper and holding it in the air. “Your honor, the defense would like to submit Exhibit Seven into evidence.”

Once the judge gave her express permission, you placed the form in front of Aaron with your left hand, perfectly manicured fingers splayed out in front of his eyes. You almost missed the way his head tilted ever so slightly and his eyes narrowed, like he was staring at a puzzle half complete. “Agent, could you please tell us what’s laying in front of you now.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning the paper before meeting back with yours. “This is a part of our official report of the case. Specifically, it has the profile that was used to lead us to the apprehension of Mr. Mckenna.”

“Does it say on that paper who had the final sign off on the profile before it was circulated?”

“Yes, that would be me. As Unit Chief, my job is to sign and finalize any reports.”

“And could you please read the profile, verbatim, as written on that report?”

Aaron’s face remained neutral, with the exception of his eyebrows scrunching together. Slowly, he had started to piece together your strategy, and he didn’t like it. “The unsub is a white male, between 32 and 40 years old. He’ll most likely be unemployed and driving a van or truck — anything that would let him easily transport his equipment and victims. We believe that he’s also had run-ins with the law before, likely as a juvenile. He’ll come across as friendly, if not a little shy. We believe that this comes from a failed relationship in his past, one where he believes that he was manipulated and wronged, and now he’s going after surrogates for that woman. Killing these women is the only thing that gives him any sort of power. If we can figure out who this past relationship was, it will lead us directly to the killer.”

You paced back and forth in front of the witness stand, your skirt tightening around your legs with every step you took. “Between 32 and 40 years old, unemployed, and killing surrogates… Except Mr. Mckenna is 22 and works part time as a bartender. How do you justify arresting my client with those inconsistencies?”

“As I mentioned before,” Aaron started, his voice dangerously low, “A profile is just one tool we use of many. Not every single part of the profile will fit every single time. Which is why we also rely on outside evidence to ensure that we have the best chance at catching the unknown subject as quickly as possible.”

“Except you had no concrete evidence, which you admit in your own report!” You took two steps closer to him, getting as in his face as possible without risking being held in contempt. With every word that left your mouth, your voice got more and more forceful, and you got more and more under Aaron’s skin.

“All of it was circumstantial at best. You had a hunch, an inherent bias against my client due to his previous conviction record, and you were frustrated at your own inability to get a good lead. But you can’t arrest somebody on a hunch, or because you’re angry. You had no evidence and the man you arrested didn’t even match the profile that you came up with!”

Your eyes locked with Aaron, his gaze heavy, and neither of you dared look away first. “Objection!” came from the prosecutor behind you. Exactly what you wanted. “Argumentative and foundation.” You flashed Aaron a predatory grin.

Two moves to checkmate.

“Sustained,” said the judge.

“Withdrawn.” You tapped the witness bench, hoping to convey an air of aloofness and calm. Aaron scowled. “Agent Hotchner, before joining the FBI, you were a prosecutor, is that true?”

Confusion flashed across his face for the briefest of moments, and it gave you a twisted sense of satisfaction to know that you had the upper hand. You knew the answer to every question you were about to ask, and he knew that. He just couldn’t figure out where you were going with this line of questioning, or what the relevance even was. “Yes, that’s correct.”

You made a soft hum of approval. “Could you please walk us through your higher education?”

“I attended George Washington University for both my undergraduate and law degree.”

“What did you major in for your undergrad?”

Aaron hesitated. “Political Science.”

Check. “So all together, you’ve had about seven years in higher education. In that time, how many psychology classes did you take?”

It was almost sadistic, the way you relished in the slight twitch of his face — the realization that he had been backed into a corner. The silence was deafening as Aaron’s scowl met your smug grin.

“None,” Aaron said finally.

“None,” you repeated, performative shock dripping from your words. “Do you have any academic background in psychology or human behavior, then?”

Aaron’s jaw clenched, and as you made your way closer to the witness stand, you saw his thumb frantically moving back and forth over his fingertips. Clearly, you had struck a nerve. “The FBI has rigorous coursework in order to become a profiler, along with multiple exams and continued training as more research becomes available to us. The profiling classes are no easy feat and are written by experts in the field. Creating profiles has a long and respected history in detective work, and these profilers have caught some of the most prolific serial killers of all time.”

You placed a hand over your chest in faux modesty. “My apologies, Agent Hotchner, I believe I wasn’t very clear. I’m not calling into question the validity and effectiveness of profiles. I’m calling into question the validity and effectiveness of you as a profiler.”

You could practically see the cartoon fire spewing out of Aaron’s ears. He was so close to being in your trap, something he had to have known, too, yet he continued to toe dangerously close to that line.

“A lack of formal education in profiling,” you continued, keeping your voice light, “and the blatant disregard for basic police and legal procedure as shown in this case with my client… I mean, how many other mistakes were made in your past cases? It’s hard to believe that you can read anybody, much less the hardened criminal that you have painted my client to be.”

Checkmate.

“Objection!” cried the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, this is —”

He was cut off by the judge raising her hand. “Sustained. Counselor, I would advise you to tread lightly from here on out.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Withdrawn.” You turned around to make your way back to your table, ignoring Marcus’s look of complete disbelief. Baiting Aaron had been easy, and now all you had to do was wait.

The courtroom was uncomfortably silent for one beat… two beats…

“Not only can I read Mr. Mckenna,” echoed Aaron’s voice, “But I can also read you.”

Once you got back to your desk, you turned around, hands resting on the cool wood of the table top, but you never sat down. Instead, you leaned forward, and arched your eyebrows in a silent challenge — one he was all too eager to pursue.

“The red Harvard Law tag on your briefcase is a perfect match to your lipstick, and you wear the same one every time you go to court. Not because you’re superstitious the way most lawyers are, but because it’s your way of maintaining control in the courtroom, something you’re desperate to keep in every aspect of your life, personal and professional. I would guess that this need goes back to late high school, early college. But you’ve been worried about appearances and how you’re perceived for even longer than that.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. So he thought you were Type A? Anybody could have guessed that by your anything. All they would have to do is look at your color coded case files or your daily schedule, planned down to the minute. You had only been trying to sway the jury when you insinuated that he wasn’t a good profiler, but maybe you were actually starting to believe it yourself.

Except Aaron got a dangerous glint in his eye, causing your stomach to bubble with anxiety. Clearly, he was playing chess, too, and by the looks of it, he believed he was winning.

“In fact, you’re so worried about losing control, that despite your busy schedule, you refuse to hire a planner for your upcoming wedding.”

That got your attention. The objection that you were about to call died on your lips, and all you could do was stare with poorly hidden shock. Next to you, Marcus turned pale as a ghost.

Aaron, cocky bastard, continued his profile of you, with no clear signs of stopping anytime soon. “You have a tan where your ring usually is, and I know you’ve been wearing it recently as you subconsciously fiddle with where it would be whenever things in court aren’t going your way. Just like you’re doing now. You still have your maiden name, which you plan on giving up when you do get married because not taking his last name would arouse too many questions that you want to avoid. Just another way your concern of appearances is manifested. So you’re engaged.

“I would say congratulations, but it’s not a happy relationship, not on your side, anyway. Younger female professionals will take their rings off in fear of not being taken seriously, but you’re an established and respected lawyer. You needn't worry about that. So if it’s not about you, it’s about the fiance. You don’t want to be associated with him.”

You gripped the edge of the table, too angry to form words. Your nails dug into the varnish, and you were sure that your heavy breathing could be heard from across the room. This dick. This absolute, garbage, piece of shit dick. The worst part was how casual he sounded as he aired all of your dirty laundry for everybody to hear.

“He’s holding you back, in all aspects of life, but mostly intellectually. He doesn’t have a sliver of your capabilities. The two of you are probably high school sweethearts, prom king and queen type, but while you grew up and matured, he never did. He can’t keep up with you. Still acts the same way he did in high school, only now with more access to alcohol and money. Career wise, he doesn’t have much going for him, probably some sports related pipe dream. But you stay with him because you know how to control him and how to use him to your advantage.”

Aaron’s eyes zeroed in on Marcus, and all of the color drained from your face. The voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you to object, to get the judge involved, anything, before Aaron did any more damage, but you were frozen in your spot. For the first time in your life, you were completely and utterly speechless and spiraling out of control.

“That need for control is also why you’re sleeping with your assistant. It’s casual for you, but not for him anymore. You should break that off. That’s nothing new for you, though. In fact, I would bet that if we looked back at all of your affairs since your engagement, we’d find a long string of men and women, all of whom are your subordinates or of lower status than you. It’s a win-win situation — they’re more than eager to have a chance with you, and you get to stay in control. Oh, you’ll stop when you actually get married, but you continue to push that date back, as well. So…”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly feeling good about himself, and God, you could kill him. You could reach over the witness box and wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze until his whiskey colored eyes popped out of his smug, beautiful face.

Aaron lifted his chin, eyebrows raised in your direction. “Do you believe in my abilities as a profiler now, Counselor?”

That snapped you back into action. You cleared your throat and unnecessarily smoothed down your skirt in an attempt to regroup your thoughts. “Well, Agent Hotchner, thank you for that little show and tell. It’s clear that you are very passionate about your career. However, just like your profile of my client, you have no evidence for any of your unsubstantiated accusations.”

It was a pathetic attempt at saving face, and Aaron knew it, but it had to be enough for you. You turned your back towards Aaron so that you could face the judge, who, to her credit, had a perfect poker face the whole time. “Your Honor, I move to strike Agent Hotchner’s outburst” — not an outburst, Aaron was too composed to ever have one of those, but he grimaced at the word all the same — “from the record, as no question stands before the witness at this time.”

The judge looked at you dubiously, clearly debating her ruling. There shouldn’t have been any reason to worry, you were legally in the right, but there was always the chance that she wouldn’t be on your side. You noticed yourself fiddling with where your engagement ring would usually be, and you cursed yourself under your breath. How could Aaron have possibly known all of that?

“Sustained,” she said finally, “I direct the jury to disregard the witness’s, uh, example when considering the evidence.”

You let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t much of a win — everybody still heard what had happened, it was still in the back of their minds, like the ring of a bell echoing — but at least in regards to the case, you had the legal upper hand.

The judge turned back to you. “Defense, the witness is still yours, if you have any further questions.”

If you were a little more in your right mind, you would have cut your losses, but between your oath to defend your client to the best of your ability and that stupid self assured grin on Aaron’s face, you knew that you really had no choice.

Deep breath in… Slow breath out… You’re at a stalemate now.

“Agent Hotchner,” you said, causing him to perk him up in interest. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting you to continue. “Wouldn’t an ex-lawyer and an FBI agent be familiar with the rules of decorum in a courtroom?”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand your question, Counselor.”

“Let me rephrase, then. Would you say that you have a history of emotional outbursts and rule breaking in your line of work? And I’ll remind you that you are still under oath.”

Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “No, I wouldn’t. Integrity is one of our core values, and we take that very seriously.”

With shaking hands, Marcus handed you one of the files you’d had him print out on Aaron. “If that’s so, can you explain why, since your promotion to Unit Chief in 2005, you and your team have had seven disciplinary hearings, one of which being an internal investigation into the excessive force used by one of your agents, and another being a congressional hearing?”

A sick sense of satisfaction passed over you when you saw him get visibly shocked, his poker face breaking for the first time that day. If he wanted to go for blood, you could fight back twice as hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss either of those cases.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Very well, Agent. So between the discrepancies in the profile, your inability to control your temper, and your history of breaking procedure, coupled with the fact that you arrested my client without any warrant by kicking in the door to an innocent civilian’s house, do you really believe that your arrest and the subsequent evidence that came from that arrest was obtained legally? Or do you just not care either way, as long as you’re able to prove that you’re right?”

Right as he opened his mouth to speak, you turned your back on him and started to walk back to your table. Aaron wasn’t even able to get a peep out before you cut him off with a sharp “Question withdrawn. At this time, the defense rests.”

“Our arrest was made on the grounds of—” Aaron tried, and you smirked to yourself. He must have been desperate if he was trying that move twice. You whipped around, gaze steeled.

“I have no further questions, Agent Hotchner,” you repeated, only letting out the slightest hint of amusement. “But thank you for your cooperation with Lady Justice today.”

Aaron’s eyes met yours, and a weight settled in the pit of your stomach. You should have hated him, but something about him had you completely and utterly entranced by him. Maybe it was the novelty of the case. Maybe it was the matching intellects and the fact that he was the only other person who could give you a challenge.

Maybe you just liked the way you got to lose control with him.

As he passed you, his arm brushed yours, and your whole body burned.

“Very cute, Counselor,” he whispered, voice dripping with condescension. “How long did it take you to come up with that little switch up?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped. “I was playing chess, you were playing checkers, and that’s why you lost.”

The rest of the session went on normally, if not a little tense. To your surprise, Aaron hadn’t left immediately after his testimony, and instead took a seat in the section for the public. Good. As soon as courtroom decorum wasn’t a factor, you were sure to give him a piece of your mind.

Court adjourned for the day, and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. You told Marcus to continue to push for a better plea option as you grabbed your briefcase and stormed out, pushing through the throngs of people until you could see the back of Aaron’s head.

You sped up your steps until you were right behind him, and you grabbed his wrist to stop him in his tracks. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

You pulled Aaron into an empty conference room, hoping to get some privacy before you completely blew your lid. You already had one public humiliation because of him, and you did not need another.

“What is your problem?” you hissed, locking the door behind you. “You had no right to put my personal life on blast like that.”

Aaron placed his hands on his hips, swooping the sides of his suit jacket back, and you had to make a very conscious effort to not stare. “You questioned my profiling abilities, and I proved them.”

“You didn’t prove shit,” you argued, folding your arms across your chest. “Except for the fact that you’re an insufferable bastard.”

“Are you saying that my profile was off? Because if you didn’t want to be caught committing adultery, then you shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”

You gritted your teeth and took a step towards him in a futile attempt to come across as intimidating. Even in your heels, he still seemed to be towering over you. You’d have to level the playing field somehow. You gripped his tie and used it to pull him down so that he was closer to eye level with you. “I don’t need your judgment, Aaron.”

Aaron moved closer to you, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His Adam's apple bobbed and it captivated you. “I couldn’t care less about what you do,” he said flippantly. “Matter of fact, I don’t think this fit of anger is even inherently about your little secret coming out. Do you want to know what I think it is?”

“Not at all.”

“I think,” he continued, completely ignoring your protest, “You’re angry because as much as you can dish it out, you can’t take it.”

Your grip on his tie tightened at his words. “Trust me, I can take anything,” you said, voice low and breathy.

Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips — those kissable, red stained lips of yours. You hadn’t had to reapply your lipstick once throughout the day, and he idly wondered just exactly what it would take to muss up that perfect, pouty red lip.

“I also think that for the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have control, and you liked it.” He bent down a little bit more so that his lips brushed against your ear with every word and you could feel his breath run down your spine. “Aren’t you bored of sleeping with boys who are so far beneath you?”

You’re not sure who initiated it, but the next thing you knew, your lips crashed against his, the two of you making out like it was the last kiss either of you were ever going to get. His hands felt impossibly everywhere all at once — gripping your hips, tugging at your hair, and even snaking under your work blouse to palm at your breast. His teeth nipped at the fibres of your lips. With every movement of his hands, little gasps escaped you, and you could feel the curve of his lips curling up into a smirk.

His fingers trailed up the side of your body, past the curve of your neck, and tangled themselves in your hair before yanking it back, exposing the column of your throat. Immediately he attached his lips to your neck, nipping at your pulse point.

“Aaron,” you whined, trying to regain the breath he stole from your lungs. You practically melted in his arms, going completely weak at the knees, especially as his tongue trailed across the underside of your jaw. You let his tie fall from your grip, instead bringing your hands up to cup his face to pull him in for another kiss.

His lips set a bruising pace, and it caused a fire to burn in the pit of your stomach. You had never once been kissed like this, never once felt so all-consumed by a person. Aaron’s cologne surrounded you, making your head spin. Bruises were sure to form from how harshly he was gripping your hips, but you didn’t care. He was addicting, and you wanted more.

Hotch walked you backwards until you were pressed up against the wall, his thigh shoved in between your legs, forcing your skirt to ride up. The position made his arousal obvious as he pressed against you. The way he held you was possessive, primal even, Unconsciously, you ground down on his thigh, hoping for anything to help relieve the ache between your legs.

Unfortunately for you, Aaron caught on to what you were trying to do, and he chuckled against your lips before pulling away just far enough to speak. “Look at you,” he whispered, and the raspiness of his voice only served to turn you on even more. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and his thumb traced your bottom lip, tugging at it ever so slightly. His other hand slowly trailed its way up your thigh, nails scratching at your skin. “Skirt hiked up around your waist, desperate to get off. Your little boyfriends aren’t doing it for you anymore?”

He pressed his thigh further into you, ripping an involuntary moan from your throat. “Fuck,” you gasped, your hips still moving back and forth against him, not caring how needy it made you seem. “I need… I…”

“What? Big, bad lawyer doesn’t have any more smart ass comments?” he cooed sarcastically, pushing your skirt up even higher. He replaced his thigh with his hand, and his fingers ghosted over your covered pussy, teasing you, not giving you nearly enough contact. “Fuck, you’re so wet already. Go ahead, needy girl, if you’re that desperate.” Aaron yanked down your panties in one fell swoop, and you blindly kicked them off to the side. “Be a good girl and show me how much you want this.”

Without any more of a warning, one of his fingers entered you, and you let out a breathy moan that Aaron was sure to have on repeat in his mind for days to come. When the heel of his palm pressed against your clit, your brain completely short circuited. You threw your head back as far as you could despite being pressed against the wall as his name clumsily tumbled from your lips like a prayer.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he grunted, pressing you further against the wall. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

Electricity coursed through your veins as he added a second finger, easily finding that spot in you that made you see stars. You rocked your hips back and forth against his hand, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. His lips trailed from your jawline, down your neck, and to your collarbone.

“Look at me,” Aaron ordered, tightening his grip on your chin, and your eyes shot right back open. Instead of the whiskey colored irises you had gotten used to, Aaron’s pupils were so blown that they made his eyes completely black. “I want to see you lose control all over me. Gonna make sure you come harder for me than you have for any of your boy toys.”

That wouldn’t be very difficult. Nobody had ever made you feel the way you did then, Aaron’s fingers buried deep in your cunt and lips exploring every inch of skin he could access. No part of this was for his pleasure — from the curl of his fingers to the slow circles on your clit, it was all expertly calculated to bring you to the edge with as much intensity as possible, and it was all devastatingly effective.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would have completely lost your balance. “More, fuck, please.”

“More?” he mumbled against the column of your throat. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Coherent sentences were not an option for you at the moment, not when you were so deliciously overwhelmed with pleasure and with Aaron. Besides, how could you tell him that you wanted him to completely and utterly ruin you? That you wanted him to bend you over the conference table and pound into you until you could barely speak. You wanted Aaron to mark you and send you home to your fiance with reminders of every little thing he did to you for the days to come. You wanted raw and untamed passion. You wanted to be consumed, for him to settle in your lungs like smoke, and haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

You didn’t want nice and calculated the way every other man you’d been with had acted — you wanted Aaron Hotchner to take control.

You couldn't say any of that, so instead, you grabbed his wrist, the one that was holding your chin in place and, without breaking eye contact with him, you guided his hand down until it rested on your throat. “More,” you choked out, giving him an animalistic grin.

That was all it took. Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you in for another kiss, messy and desperate and swallowing all of your incoherent moans as his fingers moved harder, faster.

You clung to him like a lifeline as you felt your whole body tense up, your orgasm fast approaching. You were so fucking close and he felt so fucking good and, God, if this is what losing control felt like, then you and Aaron could do this forever and —

His fingers were gone from you, and you clenched around nothing. You cried out in protest, which only seemed to amuse him.

“Oh? Prom queen isn’t used to not getting what she wants?” Keeping his hand on your throat and you pinned against the wall, he made slow, teasing work of his belt buckle.

Your chest rose and fell in a desperate attempt to catch your breath. “What happened to watching me come undone all over you?” you shot, trying to even out your voice as much as possible. It didn’t work very well. “Did you lose your nerve?”

A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. “Don’t worry, Princess, that’s still the plan. I just never said where. I want to make sure you’re nice and wet and ready for me to turn you into a moaning mess on my cock.”

In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, you rolled your eyes. “Yeah? And how do you expect to do that?”

He smirked and released your throat. Wordlessly, he grabbed your wrist, and guided your hand down your body, further and further until you reached your throbbing pussy. He used his hands to press your fingers to your clit, and you whimpered softly. God, you were dripping, and the extra stimulation didn’t help your shaking legs.

“By making you so needy and whiny that by the end of this, you're begging for me,” he hissed, lips brushing the shell of your ear with every word. He moved your fingers so that you were rubbing small, slow circles around your clit, although it wasn’t nearly enough to give any real relief. “Begging for me to come and fuck you over and over and over again. Because you know that your pathetic fiance and your string of affairs have never made you feel like this before.”

Aaron yanked your hand away from your clit and you could sob. You wanted to cum so badly that you could barely put it into words. Still holding your wrist, Aaron brought your hand up to his face. He took a brief moment to admire the way your fingers glistened, covered in your arousal, before bringing them to his lips and sucking.

Eyes wide, you made a choked noise as you committed the view of Aaron to memory. “Please, Aaron, fuck, I need you,” you whined, the start of a long string of incoherent begging. You needed him then and there, damn the consequences.

He pulled your fingers out of his mouth slowly, and you moaned at the obscene wet noise it made. “So desperate,” he murmured as he began to unbutton his slacks. “All for me. All because I edged you once.”

Aaron pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his dick, and you licked your lips involuntarily when you saw it, big and thick and leaking precum. Clearly, it gave Aaron a bit of an ego boost, because as he ran the head up and down your sensitive folds, he reminded you, “You did say you could take anything, Princess.”

Your breathing came out shaking as you shivered, waiting for him to do something — anything. You were so empty and you needed him so badly. If you didn’t get his dick in you soon, you were pretty sure you would lose your mind completely.

“Fuck me, Aaron,” you moaned, arching your back to press into him more.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips in an almost intimate gesture. “Patience is a virtue,” he chastised.

In your haze of arousal, you barely noticed him grabbing your briefcase and digging through the small pocket in the front. You especially didn’t notice his pause when his finger touched something small, round, and metal in the bottom of the bag. The only thing you cared about was him coming back to you, holding up a condom packet with a smirk.

“I knew I’d find one somewhere in your briefcase.” You let the comment slide, the excitement at the prospect of sex with Aaron Hotchner outweighing any jackass comment he could make. Aaron made quick work of putting on the condom. The second he was done, one of his hands ran up your thigh, getting a good grip on it before pulling it up and around his waist.

“Do you feel how wet you are for me? How willing you were to give up control? All for me? That—” Lips pressed to your ear, he pushed his cock into you, bottoming out with one thrust. You threw your head back in pleasure. “—Is playing chess, sweetheart.”

Aaron dropped his forehead to the crook of your neck as he began pounding into you at a desperate pace. He had held off on his own pleasure for long enough, and now he was chasing his orgasm with a ruthless determination. One hand stayed gripping your thigh, the other one braced against the wall next to your head. Aaron nipped at your neck in between moans of praise for you.

“I — oh, fuck — knew it,” he groaned, digging his fingers deeper into your thigh. “You wanted somebody to take control. Somebody who knows how to please you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You were an incoherent mess at this point, his name tumbling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. At that moment, it probably was.

“Finally, that bratty mouth of yours is good for something. You sound so pretty, moaning out my name. Say it again.” A particularly deep thrust caused you to tug at his hair. “Louder.”

Never before had you met somebody like Aaron Hotchner, and you weren’t sure if you ever would again, so you screwed your eyes shut and let yourself get lost in the absolute pleasure he was providing. You memorized everything you could — the way the calluses on his hands felt against your skin, the way he moaned out your name, how deliciously full you felt, and how for the first time in your life you felt truly seen — so that you could suspend the moment in amber to preserve in the back of your mind.

“Please,” you begged, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails. “I’m so close. Fuck, Aaron, you feel so good, please.”

Aaron tore his lips from your throat, choosing instead to press his forehead against yours. His lips brushed yours with every word he spoke, so close that you were practically kissing him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured. “Be a good girl. Be a good girl and come. All over my dick.”

When you came, it was with a cry of his name as your whole body shuddered. You clung to him as he continued to fuck you. His thrusts began to stutter, and he took the opportunity to capture your lips in one last, scorching kiss, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You think he moaned something as he came, but you couldn’t hear it over the sounds of skin slapping against skin. He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure that you felt every single inch of him. As if you could ever forget it.

The two of you stayed where you were for a few moments, relishing in the feeling of being full a little longer. Your walls fluttered around Aaron, which caused him to muffle his whimpers into your throat.

“Aaron…” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the moment. “That was so—”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t have done it.”

“I know.” He pulled back just enough to leave a lingering kiss on your lips, and your whole body burned. “But I don’t regret it. Do you?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.” The confession lingered in the hair for a tense second because both of you seemed to remember where you were.

Aaron slowly pulled out of you, an act that looked almost painful for him when you let out an involuntary moan at the feeling. He could have spent all day in you, if given the chance.

The two of you adjusted yourselves in silence, both of you hoping to be able to leave the room with some semblance of professionalism. At the very least, the goal was to not look like you had just had sex in a courthouse conference room. Shame and embarrassment flooded you — what had you been thinking?

Once you felt that you were presentable enough, you grabbed your briefcase and tried to ignore Aaron burning a hole in the back of your head with his gaze.

“Well, Aaron, this was fun.” You cleared your throat. “I’m sure we’ll see each other around at some point.”

You were two steps away from the door when you heard his smug, courthouse voice come back in full swing.

“Forgetting something?”

You turned around in a huff, ready to go right back to arguing with him, but what you saw made your whole body heat up in embarrassment. There was Aaron with a self-satisfied grin and dangling off his finger was your panties.

“These are cute,” he mused. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to fully appreciate them.”

You rushed over there, fully prepared to snatch them out of his hand. “And you never will,” you shot, but even as you said it, you didn’t make much of an effort to take them out of his hands. You just stared at him and his swollen lips and mussed hair, all your doing.

Ever the gentleman, Aaron started to hand your underwear back to you, but instead of taking it back like you knew you should have done, you covered his hand with yours, closing it in a fist around your panties.

“Who says you can’t?” you whispered, guiding his pantie-filled hand down to his pockets. “This way… You can keep it as collateral. To make sure I’ll come and see you again.”

His breath hitched in his throat as you guided him to put your panties into his suit pocket, and you were glad to be the one surprising him this time.

“I don’t care about your fiance,” Aaron started, and you braced yourself for the worse. “But I’m not interested in being the ‘other man’ to your affairs with your assistants, too.”

“Consider it ended,” you promised, not caring how desperate or easy it made you look. You wanted to keep Aaron around for a long, long time.

Just until the wedding, you corrected yourself.

You slung your briefcase over your shoulder, wincing as it dug into a bruise that Aaron had left. It would be there for a while — you’d have to find a way to hide it from Tony until it faded. The thought made you stupidly giddy. “I’ll see you around, Aaron.”

He nodded in goodbye, and you slipped out of the conference room on shaking legs. As soon as the door closed behind you, you reached into your bag, and reluctantly slipped on your engagement ring.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #Aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner smut #criminal minds fanfic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #my writing #criminal minds

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hindisoup · 3 years

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Out of curiosity: why are you learning Hindi? How long have you been learning? It's a language that interests me, so I was also wondering if you had any advise for how to get started. Is there any good book for a beginner you would recommend?

Thanks for the ask!

I wasn't meant to start learning Hindi in the first place. Over the years I have dabbled in several languages, Russian being the previous true interest on which I focused seriously for about 4-5 years more or less sporadically as a hobby.

Five years ago I was doing my masters (on a totally unrelated subject to languages) and at that time I felt I needed:

something completely out of my everyday life to occupy my mind with while I wasn't focusing on writing my dissertation 8-10 hours a day,

background music lyrics of which I couldn't understand so I wouldn't be distracted while writing the said dissertation.

Completely by chance, I guess, I found Hindi films (colours! clothes! songs! dance! drama!) as an answer to the first need, and Hindi film songs to the second one. However, having a bit of an "all-or-nothing" type of personality, very soon I noticed I had watched more than 150 films and I couldn't help but start learning the language because of the sheer amount of exposure and my natural interest in all languages in general.

I actually made a conscious decision at some point that I will NOT LEARN DEVANAGARI. I promised that to my partner when I noticed he had that "here we go again" look on this face and he obviously had vivid flashbacks of my Russian study phase. "It's just a pastime. I'm not going to LEARN the language or anything. Don't worry and let me see where this masala movie plot turns to next".

But then I was invited to a two weeks study trip abroad with my university group and being unsupervised, I spent all the free evenings drawing Devanagari letters from a model (it couldn't be called writing at that point, just drawing). After that, I couldn't stop myself. I was able to finish my master's without fully diving into studying Hindi in the actual sense, but very soon after I bought my first grammar books and started compiling notes and vocabulary.

Ever since - it's been 4 years now - I've been studying it in my spare time more or less daily. I'm in no hurry. I actually enjoy the journey and the sense of awareness of all the things I don't know yet. In other aspects of my life, I'm very goal-oriented, almost a perfectionist, want quick results, yada yada. But Hindi is something I learn solely just for the pleasure of it, and I don't care if it takes me 60 years to reach fluency.

And that's my goal, actually. To understand spoken Hindi well enough to grasp a majority of a film or a song, without subtitles. And to be able to read a novel and not having to check too many words from a dictionary. To be able to have an understandable conversation with my Hindi speaking friend about everyday topics or even emotions and abstract matters. So I'm not looking for perfection, I'm aiming to understand and to be understood.

But on your second question on how to get started in Hindi, in case you don't have a year to watch 150 films, you can try:

Duolingo Hindi course is a good place to start and get a general feel of the language and the alphabet.

Another iOS / Android app Language Curry, where you don't even need to know Devanagari at all. I especially like the small cultural information tidbits here and there over the course. BTW on this app, you can also learn Gujarati, Sanskrit, Punjabi, Kannada, Tamil and Marathi!

hindilanguage.info explains various grammar points in a very detailed and understandable manner.

If you prefer physical or ebooks, you can check my post on the ones I've tried.

English Wiktionary is one of my most used sites since in there you can check most Hindi words' gender and conjugation tables of both nouns and verbs.

Hope you get started on your Hindi journey!

#ask #study resources #hindi #language learning #langblr #languageblr

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veliseraptor · 3 years

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Okay I'm new to this fandom and I'm a bit confused. Did Xue Yang and Meng Yao know each other? Did Meng Yao free him?👀Do xue yang know he has a parentage that dabbled in demonic cultivation?

congratulations, anon! you have hit the nail on the head of one of my perennial aggravations about cql-canon specific details, which is to say ‘what the hell is the deal supposed to be with meng yao and xue yang in qinghe?’

there is no real indication that they might have known each other except some meaningful side-eyes going on that don’t make a lot of sense in context other than, maybe, pre-flagging the idea that meng yao is ~problematic~ and ~untrustworthy~ I guess? (which, ask me how I feel about the idea that everything jin guangyao does forever is bad and sinister, regardless of timeline, effect, or motivation). but there’s no real, substantive indication (up until the empathy flashback in ep 41, I’ll get there) that they are familiar with each other, or that they actually do any collaborating at that point.

you could definitely headcanon them as knowing each other previously based on the fact that they both grew up in less than ideal circumstances, shall we say, but I don’t think there’s any evidence for it in-text other than aforementioned meaningful side-eyes. in fact, canonically we know where they both grew up locationwise and it wasn’t in the same place. but like, seriously.

(and holy shit this got long, I’ll spare you all with a read more. also: I have broken my usual ‘referring to jin guangyao as jin guangyao always’ rule for the sake of this post given that it is specifically about the era where he is going by meng yao, but it did feel really weird.)

speaking specifically with what we see in text (in episode 10), we see meng yao argue against executing xue yang, but only after wei wuxian has done so first. the next explicit link between them is when meng yao leaves the fight between wen zhuliu and nie mingjue saying that he’s going to go check on xue yang; following that, we’re told that xue yang has escaped and meng yao claims he saw the captain free him.

which is, considering the fact that he’s killing the captain at the time, a highly suspect statement to make.

there’s no reason for meng yao to be working with xue yang at this point! there’s just not! it doesn’t make sense for him even from a purely self-interested standpoint and, again, at this point in canon there’s no actual reason to believe that they have any prior familiarity.

(’but lise what about the flashback-’ yes I’ll get there.)

if you want my personal reading, which I think is compatible with the text as we see it, it goes like this:

1. xue yang quickly notices meng yao as a potentially interesting person. I don’t think it’s about seeing him as an ally or knowing him from anything beforehand - I think it’s about seeing him as interesting and kind of funny.

2. meng yao registers that there’s a distinct possibility of nie mingjue dying and/or the wen sect attacking the nie in force and decides to short-circuit that by just freeing xue yang himself, because he knows nie mingjue won’t do it but if xue yang’s gone then that (at least temporarily) solves their wen problem.

my evidence for this is based around the timing of when meng yao leaves to “check on” xue yang (mid-fight, specifically after wen zhuliu, inarguably a greater threat, takes over from wen chao), the fact that he looks definitely concerned when he does so, and the fact that, given where he is at this point, letting xue yang out otherwise makes no sense.

this does not strike me as the face of a person who is a-plottin some sinister business, and this isn’t a face he’s making at anyone, either; this is pure ‘ah fuck this ain’t good’ expression.

(yes, yes, I know, episode 41 flashback, I told you that we’d get there.)

3. meng yao frees xue yang, probably hoping he can make it as bloodless as possible; xue yang, in xue yang fashion, makes it as bloody as possible; meng yao sees his chance to do something about the guy he has always hated and who has repeatedly undermined him, and who probably also caught him in the middle of an incriminating action that nie mingjue would absolutely not accept as justifiable.

4. xue yang bounces, leaving jin guangyao caught holding the sword and surrounded by several dead bodies.

and then they don’t see each other again until xue yang ends up at jinlintai at some unspecified point down the timeline.

regarding the episode 41 flashback (see? I promised!), the view we get of meng yao talking with an unspecified person heavily implied to be xue yang doesn’t make sense in some very critical ways that also align with the selective editing that nie mingjue’s memories seem to have done on incidents we previously saw from a (presumably) omniscient perspective. many people other than me (see here, here, and here for some examples) have written eloquently about the disparities between the scenes as we see them in earlier episodes compared to what we see in the flashback, and how that suggests at least some unreliability of nie mingjue’s memories despite their presentation, since they are visually coeval with the rest of canon, as equally reliable.

(what would be different if the empathy flashbacks were in some way visually demarcated, I wonder? it’s a thought. I like that they’re not because unreliability of narrative/narrator is such a theme, but.)

ANYWAY, regarding the section where we see that conversation between the captain and meng yao, now with bonus mysterious feet (implied to be xue yang) - a few things stand out to me.

one: nie mingjue has no way of having seen this - no personal access to what he’s supposedly seeing in his own memory. this suggests the possibility, at least, that this is a fabricated assumption of a memory. (”I believe this happened, and this is how I would reconstruct it happening.”)

two: possibly more significantly: the scene as played here doesn’t fit with canon as we see it in episode 10 itself. the scene with the captain and meng yao, as we see it earlier, includes here several additional lines of dialogue. considering the other discrepancies within the empathy flashback with previously seen canon, episode ten’s version, by virtue of not taking place within a (flashback of a) flashback and within the pov of an extremely biased character, could be read as more reliable.

see also: the flashback with the captain seeing meng yao talking to someone (implied to be xue yang) is placed directly after nie mingjue accuses meng yao of plotting with xue yang - an accusation he doesn’t make in the scene as it originally plays in episode 10. this is another place where there are several lines of dialogue that weren’t present in the earlier version of the scene, inserted apparently seamlessly into the record.

taken together, with the above where it does not make sense to me that meng yao was ~plotting~ with xue yang prior to freeing him as a way of getting the wens off nie mingjue’s back, I’m inclined to think that moment in the episode 41 flashback is a nie mingjue-generated presumption of what must have happened, rather than a factual account of what did.

meng yao’s choices in episode 10 make much more sense - as someone who, if nothing else, is definitely interested in preserving his position as part of the nie sect, but who also values nie mingjue’s life at that point enough to take a sword to the chest for him - if you don’t take that at face value.

regarding the second part of your question about the xue yang/xue chonghai connection - cql seems to indicate that he has some awareness maybe, based on his conversation with wei wuxian in episode 37? at least, he has access to Lore involving the yin iron that others were unaware of

and had one piece in his possession apparently pre-canon.

but honestly that’s a bit of cql canon that I pretty much ignore completely and sometimes forget about, though there are certainly interesting things that can be done with it.

#anonymous #conversating #lise does meta #the sad queer cultivators show #xue yang #jin guangyao #sorry this took so long anon but perhaps seeing the above you can understand why

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trampohlena · 3 years

Text

Okay. I seriously want to know what the writers were thinking when writing this episode. I’m going to complain in this post because I love the show and all of the incredible actors, however, I am frustrated with how this season is playing out (and no one I know watches this show so I just need to vent here for sec, okay?)

1. What in the fuck.

2. Tell me why the Superfriends enter the PZ and we see that in less than 10 minutes they have “fear visions” when Kara has been trapped there for the last 5 episodes and we have yet to see a SINGLE FUCKING FEAR VISION FROM THE TITLE CHARACTER! I mean, come on!

Each of the superfriends had, in the very least, a 2-3 minute look into their “greatest fear” and we haven’t seen a second of what Kara has supposedly been experiencing for however long she’s been trapped in the PZ? Are they for real? Like they literally spent an ENTIRE episode on everyone’s fears except for the person who’s supposedly suffering the most? Mkay.

We couldn’t get a glimpse? A hot little sec of Kara maybe seeing the ship, having hope, and then watch as it comes crashing down into the terrain and explodes, killing everyone she loves and her screaming out in pain. Maybe even a gut wrenching cry for “ALEX!” Or “My family!” SOMETHING? I feel like Hellen Keller over here, shouting at my television, because I still ain’t SEEN or HEARD shit about what Kara is experiencing (mentally/internally) in the PZ!

3. Wouldn’t the couples “worst fears” overlap? Like couldn’t they have saved more time by having the couples (Nia/Brainy, Alex/Kelly) experience the same scenario which in essence is losing the person you love the most? That way they could have allotted more time to see what Kara’s worst fear is and what has been replaying in her mind while trapped in the PZ? I don’t get it. I feel like they chose to play those out to purposely eat up time because MB wasn’t available for enough reshoots or whatever but like...come on.

4. Zor-El being Kara’s touchstone? Mkay. They didn’t even hug/embrace when they reunited after almost two decades apart believeing that the other was dead (thank fuck they finally did). And we’re supposed to believe that he’s her touchstone? Mmmmmkay.

5. Lena’s whole water monster thing. Okay. I get it. I know what they were trying to do and okay cool they did a little nod to Alien in there but she couldn’t have thought about Kara for a second? You know the whole entire reason she is on a Martian ship, traveling to another dimension, and facing uncertain peril looking into the face of this demented Lochness wannabe ALL TO SAVE HER BFF?

She saw everyone else dead. She couldn’t have a line of dialogue for a second of like “oh no, how am I going to get to Kara?” Or her, I don’t know...calling out for supergirl or even better calling out “Kara” in the hopes that her best friend/future wife will come and save her and then realizing at the last moment that that’s not going to happen. That maybe her other biggest fear (perhaps an unconscious fear) is that when it matters most in the end, Kara isn’t going to be there for her? That she won’t swoop in and save the day? Unfortunately, “missed opportunity” seems to be the common theme throughout the show and especially in this last season.

6. The half a second hug at the end? Really? That’s it? It took me longer to spend my stimulus check, who are they fooling?

7. Zor-El just standing there like a seventh grader at a school dance that’s too shy to even go out on the dance floor and try the stanky leg? They couldn’t have spared 5 seconds of someone like either Nia, Kelly, or Lena taking a look at Zor-El, noticing the House of El crest on his robes, and asking “who are you?” Or “who is that?” Cool....cool.

8. Kara’s fine?! I know that Lena (brilliant as she is beautiful) made the sun-bomb thingymajiggy and that restores Kara’s powers but...to full capacity? If so, cool. Lena is even more of an incredibly badass bitch that will stop at nothing to make sure her boo-thang is kept at 💯

But like...wouldn’t Kara have collapsed into Alex’s arms? Been so completely relieved and overwhelmed to be back in her sister’s arms that she completely breaks down and is utterly inconsolable? Like wouldn’t that have shed a teensy bit more light onto the true nature of the effect the PZ has on one’s psyche after being trapped there for so long? I understand, or I should say HOPE at this point, that they will most likely show flashbacks and we will see behavioral changes in Kara’s character and demeanor as the show progresses but like, fuuuuck. It’s all in the details babe!

Alas, I’d hate to end this post on a low note, and like I said I’m a HUGE fan of the show, so I will say this: All the actors were fabulous, as always. Lena really shines in this episode. And I mean that literally. I don’t know if it’s the more causal wardrobe or the fact that she’s accepted by the superfiends and finally feels included but like, she was GLOWING this episode. Her whole demeanor looks lighter and she seems more playful. Almost as if the superfiends are now seeing her as Kara has always seen her. Idk, whatever it is. Katie is rocking it.

That is all! Thanks for listening/reading if you made it this far. And sorry if I offend anyone with my sense of humor. It’s wicked, what can I say?

#supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara zor el #kara danvers #6x7 #phantom zone #the cw

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abyssalhuntersnerd · 2 years

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Okay, so I think I'm just going to make a huge reblog threat with everything I want to say About Specter's record or multiple- As I have a LOT to scream about.

So let's get rolling, first thing being the damn description:

The "long-awaited" is what kills me. Can you just... Imagine how much she's probably wanted to actually talk to someone- Especially Skadi? Yeah. So little time, so much to say. Hypergryph, spare my poor heart please-

This part. Part 1 of "Specter breaks my heart in her second operator record." Constantly stuck in pure darkness... Not being able to do anything, just sit there and try your best to not go crazy and keep some of your sanity intact- That's been her life ever since she got infected.

(Not the whole conversation because I can't do more than 10 screenshots per post but yeah-)

I remember when this record came out and people were surprised about Skadi's reaction and now that we've been able to actually read it for ourselves- It's not any less painful than I imagined.

The craziest part about this? Skadi is not alone anymore.

But at the same time... She might as well be because Specter sadly didn't wake up as much as she wished she had. And I reckon that if she did, it wasn't any longer than when she did in UT.

I also appreciate the fact Kal'tsit did what she did. I do wonder though- What is it that she gave the Church for them to give Specter back? Because as far as we know, Specter was their best specimen out of all the experiments they conducted so it really begs the question: Was it money? Resources? Knowledge? We'll probably never know.

Be right back, CRYING MY EYES OUT OVER HERE BECAUSE OF SKADI. "No matter if it's me with you, or you with me-" It's so fucking beautiful. There's so many meanings in just that little sentence, so many emotions, so many unspoken memories. Skadi cares so much about her. I'll fight people on this, seriously. And you'd think it wouldn't get any worse but it DOES-

Also this: if Skadi is using words like "Fiercest and cruelest" to describe how she was back then you fucking bet she was even worse than any of us could ever imagine. Not evil- But certainly not someone who seemed to have any sort of mercy when it came to beating someone up. Can we have Sane unhinged Specter, please, thank you-

Another thing I'm curious about: Was the church of the deep, a thing back in Aegir? When did Skadi become aware of their true intentions? I could be reading into this one a bit too much but I am curious to know if she knew about it beforehand.

#normal posts #I'm tagging this as UT #Under Tides

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maximumjinx · 4 years

Text

Been reading a lot of salt. So here’s some I wanted to see in a fic.

_____________________________________________

~Ladybug’s Finale~

Marinette counted to 10, for the fourth time today.

“It’s a chronic thing girl, it would be best to just keep the seating this way anyways!” Alya explained as the seating was arranged so that she sat in the back row. Again.

Without her knowledge or permission.

Again.

Lila smiled sweetly, sat closely to Adrien who looked mildly uncomfortable as he shot his classmate an apologetic look. Marinette wasn’t even jealous as much as she was annoyed that the class has decided to protect and cater to Lila without resistance or question. Lila explained her hearing problem had flared up again, but this time Marinette only remained silent.

Nothing had exactly been the same since the class first turned on her. The heroine knew she had to treat Lila like a constant akuma, patiently observing for the right time to strike. It also helped to smother the hurt she felt from her best friend abandoning her at lunch, and their after school plans, and their paired project.

Marinette decided to pour herself into her job instead.

Down came the shrine to Adrien and his modeling, instead she would dedicate her spare time to finding Hawkmoth and ending his terrorizing once and for all.

The class went to the movies and held a group picnic, without any invitation or notice to the class president. Alya claimed that Lila (who was in charge of invitations) simply texted the wrong number. Lila’s curled smile told a different story. Marinette blew a breath, rolled her eyes, and assured Alya she was fine, she was able to not only catch up on her schoolwork, but complete her work for the rest of the semester.

Marinette won the two design contests she had entered a month later. None of her friends could attend the first award ceremony, as Lila had just broken up with her secret American singer boyfriend, and she needed their support. Marinette didn’t mention her second award. Or any she won afterwards.

Alya began to post Lila’s ‘encounters’ with Ladybug and stories to the Ladyblog as prime sources of information. She couldn’t figure out why Ladybug wouldn’t stop for an interview anymore.

Chat Noir rarely saw his Lady anymore, since she patrolled frequently while he was attending his extra circulars and modeling. Even after an akuma, she would give him a sad smile, a weak fist bump, and flee before she detransformed. The akumas were defeated with ease now, as Ladybug had surprised Chat with not only new moves, but new weapons as well. Marinette had been attending extra training with Master Fu and earned new powers after all.

Her cork board was covered in red string, sighting of Hawkmoth, crossed out suspects and more. Marinette was frustrated, but getting closer with each day.

“Marinette why don’t you take a break? See if Alya wants to come over or maybe hang out in the park to watch Adrien’s shoot!” Tikki suggested, trying to cover her worry with a bouncy attitude.

“Alya hasn’t texted me in months Tikki, let alone ask to hang out.” Marinette mumbled, still deep in thought as she examined her board.

Tikki faltered, but refused to give up.

“Why don’t you patrol with Chat for a change! You both haven’t really connected in a while.”

“It’s better that way. He’s flirting with me less and less and we’re both more focused on Akumas.”

“But Marinett-“

“What, Tikki?!” Marinette whipped around to face her kwami. Her eyes were glossy, angry and hurt.

“Nobody likes me! They don’t want anything to do with me! I may as well be the same as I was before Ladybug.” Marinette didn’t cry, but pulled a pained smile instead. “They don’t check up on me. They don’t care.”

The goddess of creation was at a loss for words. She looked warily for an akuma, but nothing appeared. Marinette took a deep breath, and felt the tips of her fingers go cold again. Her chest ached, but it was duller now.

“No akuma, you don’t have to worry.” Marinette half heartedly closed her investigation board, grabbing a black sweater on her way out the door. “We’re late to meet Master Fu.”

___

“You’ve unlocked the staff I see.” Fu noted, as Marinette began basic forms. “The last Ladybug to unlock that was considered very strong. And unforgiving.”

Marinette only hummed in response. She liked the staff, it reminded her of her brief moment as Lady Noire. Chat and her had so much fun that day.

“Master?” She strutted forward, bow extended. “Why don’t you train Chat like you train me?”

Master Fu was silent for a moment, Wayzz watching warily.

“That boy has enough on his plate without extra training added.”

Marinette wanted to protest that she was busy as well, but remembered her new free time.

“Besides, since I lost the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous when the Temple was destroyed, I decided it be better to only let you see where the miracle box is truly hidden.”

The staff stilled. Tikki looked at her chosen with piqued interest.

“Marinette?” The kwami tried.

“You lost the miraculouses with the temple.” Marinette parroted.

Master Fu tilted his head. “Yes.”

“Master, where did you lose the Miraculous book?”

“I lost everything that day, when the temple-“ Master Fu froze, looking at Marinette with wide eyes. She hadn’t dropped her bow yet.

“Fu, you geezer.” He chastied himself, “Marinette the book! Whoever had the book-“

Marinette dropped the bow, a loud vebrato echoinf around the room. She looked to Tikki with an unreadable expression.

“Looks like my chances with Adrien really are ruined.”

...

“Marinette wait- we still don’t know the full story!” Tikki yelled, from inside Marinette’s bag. But the blunette was already racing home, feet literally pounding the pavement.

How didn’t she see it before? She had crossed out most of the Agreste household, but if she could make is so that Ladybug and Marinette were in the same place, couldn’t they do so as well? Adrien isn’t Hawkmoth, she knew that much. Whichever side he took on Lila’s lies didn’t make him a villain, if he decided not to interfere or shake the boat, those are his own issues to work out.

Gabriel Agreste. The elusive, fashion designer. With an assistant that knows his every move in and out of a potential suit, his very own Mayura. He had the resources to go to Tibet, he had the book in his possesion, and if he himself wasn’t hawkmoth, he at least knew more about the villain than he let on.

“Tikki, spots on!” Marinette hissed, suddenly taking a sharp turn into an alley. A new fire was burning under the heroine. She would need Chat to take down Hawkmoth, she may need all the heroes. Tikki wrapped around her, without any flashes or spectacular poses.

Ladybug immediately took to the roofs. A call to Chat should be able to at least transfer to his kwami, even untransformed. She admits she hasn’t been as close to Chat lately, with everything around her she doesn’t feel like getting close. The people she believed were her close friends were quick to turn around and leave her behind. The boy she loved wasn’t what she built him up to be, this was her own fault, she knew that.

But Chat, he was the partner Fu chose, he took things less seriously than he should, and Marinette believed it was because she had let him for too long. She liked the banter they had back and forth, liked being able to talk to someone without worrying about what they thought about Marinette. She was a spaz, she was late, she was disorganized, and she was cowardly. But that was different now, she had to grow up. So she did.

Now wasn’t the time for anymore games.

“Kid, Ladybug is trying to contact you.”

Plagg was resting on Adrien’s pillow as his chose sat at the desk, practicing his Mandarin. Plagg has been around for eons, and knew every language there is to know, even the dead ones. He had lived through them after all. The kwami was correcting Adrien on his pronounciation.

His chosen jumped up, eyes wide.

“She is?”

“Wait- don’t get too excited it might be-”, Plagg couldn’t finish, suddenly transforming Adrien in a rush. Damn it, he hated when his kittens didn’t let him speak.

Chat Noir on the other hand, was estatic.

“I should get her flowers, we haven’t had any time to hang out. She hasn’t been looking like herself lately.”

It was true, Ladybug had gotten a few upgrades on her suit, but even Chat had noticed how much black had bled into the classic polka dot design. He wasn’t too worried, he himself was covered in the color. But the black was now covering her legs to her thigh, her chest and upper back was now covered in a thin but incredibly strong black armored plate. She had a hood now too, entirely red that she kept loose for the most part, but he had seen up and around her face during nightly patrols. Lastly, she now had a belt, to hold her yoyo and what he guessed a bag full of special transformations for her kwami.

The change was gradual, new things here and there, but startling all the same.

Chat decided to skip the flowers. As much as he loved Ladybug, he knew lately she wasn’t responding to his advances. There was a part of him that wanted to be bitter and try harder, but after weeks of having Lila forcibly hanging on his arm, he could guess why Ladybug wanted the space. He was still dealing with taking the distance as a place to let them both breathe, and not as a form of rejection.

He arrived to his Lady’s location, and noticed her hood was up. He suddenly felt uneasy. The sun was only setting, so why have it up now?

“Hey there Bug-“ he wanted so badly to finish it with ‘-aboo’, but pushed it back.

She turned around to face him, and he saw a new change. Her mask had turned into a visor, the black dots still in place, and bending around her nose like glasses. It looked more efficient at protecting her eyes than the last mask. Also, her hair was loose. It was tucked into her hood, with small pieces framing her face and resting on her shoulders.

She wasn’t smiling, but looked worried.

“Ladybug?” Chat felt uneasy with the look on her face.

Ladybug steeled herself, “I think I know who Hawkmoth is and we need a plan.”

Chat looked alarmed.

“You figured it out? What are we waiting for!”

“Wait Chat,” Ladybug placed an hand on his shoulder, “we could need the other miraculous holders. And we need to look more into the suspect. I might have a way in with my civilian identity but we need to do this carefully.”

Chat faltered. His lady would never risk her personal identity, he’s mentioned before she has too many loved ones to protect. Has that somehow changed?

“Can you at least tell me who it is?”

Ladybug looked at Chat carefully, and sighed.

“The guardian and I were talking when I realized it.” Chat tried not to let her regular meetings with Fu sting, “Master Fu lost the peacock and butterfly miraculous back at the temple in tibet. He also lost several artifacts from his temple, and the book of miraculous.”

Chat could feel breath begin to come out shallow, heart racing in his chest.

“So whoever found the book, must have found the miraculous.” He finished. “Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.”

“Or Gabriel Agreste somehow got the book from Hawkmoth.” Ladybug wasn’t sure about that theory, but she couldn’t accuse him without better proof again.

Chat Noir disagreed. He found the book with a few belongings of his mother, and a map of Tibet. His father was never the same after his mom disappeared. A thought occured to him.

His eyes widened, “Mayura-“

“Might be Gabriel’s assistant Nathalie Sancouer, yes.” Ladybug didn’t appear angry or determined to track these two down. Instead it looked like it pained her to realize the truth. Perhaps she was mimicking Chat’s own emotions.

Chat looked at his Lady. Obviously she had been going through a few things. Bad things. And if she was willing to risk her identity when unknowning there was a better candidate for undercover work beside her, Chat knew she could trust her with his identity. He always knew that.

“Ladybug, I know it’s important to keep our identites a secret, and I’m not sure how you would even try to investigate out of the suit, but you have to know something first.” Chat took a step back.

“What are you-“

“You don’t have to reveal yourself to me. I know how important your own identity is to you. But there’s an easier way to get to Agreste.” He took a deep breath. “We have to use Adrien.”

Ladybug’s face shifted to disbelief, then to anger.

“We won’t put a civilian in danger! And he didn’t handle the Snake miraculous well, we would be sending him in without any protection!” She barked.

Chat smiled humorlessly.

“I think he can handle himself.” He was risking everything. But with everything his father might have done, it was his job to make it right. “Claws in.”

He heard his partner shriek, and quickly cover her eyes.

“Chat now is not the time! What makes you think your civilian identity can get closer to Adrien or Gabriel than mine?”

“Because I live under the same roof.” Adrien thought for a moment. “And I’m not Gorilla- in case you had any doubts.”

Ladybug’s mouth dropped, hand trembling over her eyes. She didn’t want to look.

“Adrien?” She asked shakily, still unable to remove her palm. She felt long fingers carefully wrap around her own, and gently pry her hand away.

Adrien Agreste stood on a roof in pajama pants and a hoodie, hair messed up from the wind, and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey LB.”

—-

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #fic #ml salt #alya salt #lila salt #lila rossi #hawkmoth #ladynoir #adrienette #marichat #ladrien #tikki #plagg #writing

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blastoisemonster · 3 years

Photo

Pokèmon World Magazine: Porygon Net (Various Issues)

We’ve had a very long streak of Photoset posts lately, didn’t we? Let’s have a little break from anime and tie-in games and let’s go back to oldschool Pokèmon and my favourite childhood magazine, Pokèmon World!

This summer I'm working on my own portfolio site: it's getting built from scratch and, due to the kind of art it's going to showcase, I'm designing its layout to look like one of those old personal pages a lot of Internet users used to have back in the first 2000s. This choice was also influenced by one of my childhood dreams, which was, infact, owning a corner of the Net all for myself; without the right equipment or spare money to purchase a domain, though, the idea of having my page online was only hypotetical, so all I could do was designing some cute layouts on Microsoft Frontpage and admiring what others were doing. Of course, as Pokèmon was my main interest at the time, I found the Porygon Net section of Pokèmon World mag to be extra inspirational.

Porygon Net was a very small section with just a double page: every month, the magazine's staff would choose and review an italian site dedicated to everyone's favourite monsters. These online corners were, most of the times, built by fellow readers and fans who sometimes even wrote back either by mailing the staff or boasting about it on their site's news section, thanking for the feature and the subsequent wave of new visitors. As these places were built by teens or even kids (I may have seen some online pages managed by 10 year olds at the time o.o), their quality varied greatly depending on their web-making skills: some were very simplistic, other more orderly and neat, and some... showed potential, but needed more work. Pokèmon World's staff, though, never mocked these attempts, and instead also published suggestions to make certain parts of the site more functional and pleasing to the eye. I found this very encouraging, and I wonder if many of these people have continued with a career in the online world.

I went and browsed among my mag issues to find some sites to showcase: I mostly picked the ones that stuck in my mind since reading about them, or that I actually used to visit back in the day. Wayback Machine may have not been kind to the italian community, and I fear the majority of these sites are now lost; however, I'll post links if, surprisingly, I find them still alive!

Issue 4: Pokemon Mania

The pictures have been displayed in chronological order, but I still would've chosen to display this site first as I used to actually visit it before it was featured on Pokèmon World. Due to its easy and straightforward name, Pokèmon Mania was one of the first fansites to show up on the search engine if you ever looked for more Pokèmon content. It was managed by a guy with the alias of Professor Kao, and the whole feeling of the site was that of a Pokemon lab at the start of your monster journey. Though it wasn't exactly a marvel in terms of layout esthetic, the site aimed to amaze with content: it had simple browser fangames, a section dedicated to drawing tutorials (with pictures taken from japanese sources- which at the time were very scarce and hard to get!), many sections dedicated to the Cardgame (apparently, the main focus of Kao's Pokèmon interests) and its live tournaments, and one centered on the monsters' trivia. One very interactive section even proposed quizzes given by the webmaster himself that visitors could answer via mail: Kao would then contact winners and even send out special official merch like Pokèmon Center plushies or other branded toys. Generous! This site has been preserved in the Wayback Machine with a lot of snapshots, though unfortunately without many graphics. We can still navigate and read most of the sections!

Issue 20: Pokemon Museum

My second site of choice striked me with its very homely layout: even looking at the snapshot in its article feels like I'm viewing a cozy corner of the Net, in which the webmaster poured its personal thoughts and passions more than providing a service like PokèmonMania did. The issue is number 20 and quite some months have passed: online trends regarding these kind of pages had changed a bit and now people preferred to offer their own content instead of copy-pasting what Nintendo produced. Pokèmon Museum's graphics have all been drawn by the owner, Kabutops: the background texture, banner, and a lot of the graphics all around the sections! Kudos for being to prolific and precise during a period in which digital art still hadn't reached its peak popularity, and drawing tablets were only restricted to professionals. Going past the many sections dedicated to the anime, games and lore, one interesting aspect was the beginning of affiliates: fellow webmasters were starting communicating with eachother and sharing their visits by dedicating a little button to other sites. I loved the affiliates section because, once finished looking through a site, I could click on the cute little rectangle banners and find myself in another home without passing from Google searches! But webmasters wouldn't affiliate with everyone, and for the purpose of only interacting with other best Pokèsites, awards had become popular as well: graphics that people would exchange after rating a site and feeling impressed with their content, presentation, or popularity. Pokèmon Museum's magazine review focused on its affiliates and the awards, inviting fellow readers to have their site reviewed by Kabutops. Unfortunately, the site is not present on Wayback Machine. I'll never know if Kabutops came back updating its museum after summer vacations :(

Issue 35: TBPS

Let's have another jump of several months; issue 35 featured a page under the bigger domain Pokevalley and named itself The Best Pokèmon Page, rather narcissistic! This was one of those rare times Pokèmon World featured an english-speaking site. The layout doesn't impress me too much, yet the fact that the header reads "Crystal Water Version" conveys that the webmaster(s) used to periodically change aspect and palette of their site, an activity that proved to be very prolific for many page owners at the time: sites were often in construction, and people were experimenting with different colours or HTML code tricks to impress viewers and reviewers, have as many affiliates as possible and collect positive awards from other sites. Such was popularity, back in the day! The site has a long menu with many sections dedicated to the main games and movies; although, none of those pages were catching anyone’s attention anymore as everyone had the same copypasted guides and info; instead, what’s interesting is the hefty section dedicated to browser games, the big menu with pages concerning the site and staff themselves, and the oekaki board! Oekakis were very popular in that period, as it allowed fellow aspiring artists to meet eachother and show off their own skills by drawing live! If a site hosted one, they could quickly become a melting pot of creativity. Wayback Machine, sadly, doesn’t have anything concerning this site as well.

Issue 36: Arcywof

We’re back on italian sites with a page that definitely impressed even Pokèmon World’s staff for its pleasing graphics. When I first saw this among the magazine’s pages... my eyes lit up! I can’t hide that after seeing its beautiful palette, checkered background and condensed menu, teen me adopted Arcy & The Fire Pkmn as design guru: many of my subsequent mockup pages had exactly this layout, or variations of it. It’s too bad, though, that aside from the beautiful presentation, the site’s contents aren’t exactly interesting: the Pokèmon images are ripped straight from Nintendo’s official archives, and most sections are concerning the anime’s characters, episode plots, and broadcasting dates. However, Arcywof also offers a forum and a live chat, which definitely helped the staff build an interactive and affectionate community around it. Among all reviewed here, I’m most bitter that Wayback Machine hasn’t archived this site, because seriously, it’s a little jewel ;w; its pastel colours and checkered texture remind me of candy shops!

Issue 38: Pokemon Super Site

I wanted to finish this little jump in the past with a positive note and show at least one more saved address from Wayback Machine. Although not in its updated version originally featured in Pokèmon World Issue 38, Pokèmon Super Site has been archived and it’s more or less complete to explore. It’s too bad a lot of the graphics haven’t survived but hey it’s something! It’s 2003, and the trend has changed once again: forums are as popular as ever and considered one of the most successful ways to build a solid audience for one’s own page, which are now treated more like portals or an extension to the forum itself. Super Site’s sections are centered on game guides, nothing too special, but I do love the grey and white grid background on menus and header, as if we’re viewing a notebook page; reminds me of school days. I also really like the gifs section as featured in the review, all those old graphics bring back so much memories of scouting the net to save them all on hard drive!

If you stumble upon one of these sites in Wayback Machine, chances are the ever present affiliates buttons will still be working, allowing you to visit even more fansites. It’s a true trip to the past, and a never ending source of inspiration for me!

#Fandom

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bean-pole-art · 4 years

Text

Ed’s Borderlands Fics Masterpost

well finally

here is the masterpost of all of my Borderlands fics posted. most of them are Rhysothy focused to various AUs. I’m gonna update it as I post more but here it is, along with some of my commentary

right from the start big big BIG shoutout to @spoks-illogical-art, my partner in crime, my biggest inspo, without them honestly most of these fics wouldn’t exist, please check out their amazing art <3

(latest edit - 21/02/2021)

Atlas AU - our main timeline, follows events of Moxxi’s Heist. lots of different concepts and ideas but the core really is Tim moving to Promethea to get help from Rhys. gonna sort em here with posting date, check the ao3 series for the “timeline”

Hypothetically - 2240 words summary: Rhys talks a lot, but usually thinks about it too little.

coffee, cats & monographs - 2880 words summary: “Hey hey, easy. You don’t want to repeat the accident from last week, do you?” Rhys cooed towards the cat and picked her up, just as Timothy instructed him to. Hearing these words, Felicity meowed. “Oh, don’t say that. This is my office and I have the power here,” he answered, carrying her back to his personal space.

Or Timothy's cat pays a visit to Rhys' office in the morning. note: I am a stupid mofo and at this point Tim would also have Loader Bot fkjbfd just imagine hes not mentioned cause hes wandering off, typical LB

Have Faith - 1470 words summary: During the 7 year lockdown at the Handsome Jackpot, Timothy couldn't really have any hope for himself. But maybe on Promethea it could be different. note: sudden feelings while watching JoltzDude139′s stream

Warm Cheeks, Cold Hands - 1170 words summary: Rhys comes home early and wants to say hi to his husband. With no ulterior motive. None at all. note: first fic Ive ever posted where characters are married, actually. fuck it, Rhysothy Real, his name is Rhys Lawrence

the battle (and the aftermath) of the ages - 2970 words summary: In a situation like this everything was possible, they could pull any punches they could think of. Four beasts playing against each other, every single one of them thinking of striking the winning blow.

Or Promethea Squad plays UNO. And then watches a movie. note: I love Promethea Squad with my whole heart

okurimono (贈り物) - 4/4, 17170 words summary: “Not a bomb. Just a device with a message for Rhys. Trust me on that,” this time an emoji of both winking and showing off a tongue [;P] appeared on the surface of Zer0’s helmet. Ah. So they were definitely trying to mess him up. In a way. Unfortunately, he really didn’t have any other options. Almost with a defeat, Timothy took the ECHOrecorder right from their hands and looked around it again. Or Zer0 gives Timothy a peculiar mission. note: my first ever multichapter fic. took me legit abt 8 months to finish but I am absolutely satisfied with this. also the bonus ending. yes

(there is) something I see in you - 8690 words summary: How one Rhys Strongfork met one Timothy Lawrence and how they fell for each other. More or less. note: best to go into this one blind, I swear. dumbest fic Ive ever written and please take this as a recommendation

this world is gonna pull through - 14380 words summary: Timothy really hoped it wasn’t anything important. He had that tendency to forget things easily, even if he tried to fight it. But Rhys kept on smiling and went by his side. So it couldn’t have been that bad. Still dumbfounded, he felt Rhys leaving a kiss right on his cheek.“November 11th?

That- That seriously doesn’t ring any bells?” Rhys continued, brushing his hands against his shoulders. Or how Timothy spent one of his birthdays. note: also a love letter for Tim but a nicer one I guess kdjfnb dont ask how old is he i have no gdamn idea man

Strawberry Sweet - 3560 words summary: Rhys surprises Timothy with a gift for their date night in.

Happy Mercenary Day, Mr. Lawrence - 4670 words summary: How Timothy spent his first Mercenary Day on Promethea. note: I swear this is the best writer night Ive ever had. Ive written this whole thing in one night on Christmas day, solely on the inspo of that song I linked

Don’t Go Wasting Your Emotion - 4/4, 17080 words summary: Afterwards, he went around with his usual duties. Getting a quick roundabout from his PA, checking several sectors himself and looking through the thousands of messages already sent to him via ECHOs. Rhys was ready to finally take on the day, yet when he made his way to the office, he saw the unusual envelope right by the edge of his desk. “For Rhys” was written on it. Straightforward enough. Or Rhys gets a letter from a secret admirer. note: another multichapter fic!! this one also took some time and well. its inspired by ABBA songs. cause only I would write a Rhysothy fic inspired by ABBA

Ratchet Effect - 7130 words summary: Knowing just how much overworked Rhys has been, Timothy wants to let them have a nice getaway in Lazy River Land. There's only one problem to overcome - ratch infestation. note: first fic of 2021!! Ive been playing a lot of bl3 suring the writing of it so it has a lot of stuff I had observed both on Promethea and on Jackpot

Reflections - 2250 words summary: Sometimes, Timothy needs a reminder.

Tales AU - second most important timeline. it’s Tales but Tim is a part of the group. sorted chronologically

A Story For Another Day - ongoing, for now - 2/25, 15280 words Tales AU main fic. it’s gonna be a big one

Connection Interrupted - 3240 words summary: With his driving shift finished, Timothy checks up on Rhys and Vaughn's plans.

Completely Hopeless - 1040 words summary: In which Fiona notices that Rhys behaves differently in front of a certain doppelganger.

infinity times infinity times infinity - 3460 words summary: Rhys and Timothy share some dreams and secrets underneath the stars. note: the beautiful combination of Sleeping At Last and Minecraft parodies. I promise it makes sense

reality can be whatever I want - 11420 words summary: “Hey, Tim?” Timothy didn’t even spare him a look, “Are we alone, or is he there with you?” Oh, this definitely won’t be pretty.

After the confession of Handsome Jack's AI in his head and his plan to infiltrate Helios, Rhys needs to set things right with Timothy. Somehow. note: thanosdancing.gif to Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” 80′s remix and a guest appearance from Ferocity but I cant legally say her name here

still here - 2820 words summary: It all had to go down, after Helios crashed. note: I have...a love/hate relationship with this one kjdfbfg I like it but it’s honestly an alternate ending and doesnt fit within our usual bad ending, so take it with a grain of salt. i ten jebany błąd językowy w summary, kiedy ja go poprawię

together at last - 5590 words summary: It all struck him down in an instant, in this one minute. They were all safe. And they were all alive. Nothing was threatening neither him, nor Timothy, nor Fiona. He could finally breathe out.

They all found each other again. note: I am multitasking most time of my life but I dont relate any other fic to multitasking more than this one. I was honestly doing 10 things at once while writing this dfkjbndf

David AU - this one is a sub AU to Tales AU and the plot is kind of complicated dfjkbfb please check the fic for further explanation

building in curved lines - 22490 words summary: “To be fair, you look terrible. You’re barely standing in one piece and none of your coffees will hold you together for that long,” Lilith paused, seemingly weighing the correct words in her head. “You haven’t really been holding on since… We rescued The Double.” Rhys sighed heavily. Why did she have to be so right about everything. Or how Rhys and Timothy adjust to the reality after the Handsome Jack AI. note: bday gift for Spok, EASILY one of my absolute faves and the longest fic Ive written thus far

outside of AUs - some concepts I play with that are honestly outside any of our concrete timelines/concepts + fics not focused on Rhysothy

Real - 770 words summary: Reconciling with your past is a little easier, when you have someone you love right in your arms. note: first blands fic I’ve ever written. the characterization isn’t really there yet but as a first shot at the game and my kind of “introduction”, I am still satisfied of it

(Un)Familiar Faces - 9620 words summary: Timothy pursed his lips and leaned over the wall a little. He’s had enough of this solitude of closed doppelganger cabinet. Today wasn’t the day for another self-loathing session. Today, he should go off on Helios and do something for himself.

Or Timothy spends the night at a Helios bar. But not as Handsome Jack. And not as Timothy Lawrence either. note: personal favorite of mine, tough love letter to Timothy Lawrence. I have so many fond memories of writing this, including getting drunk out of my mind just like Tim and Rhys here

basics of survival - 2010 words summary: Athena taught Timothy everything he needed to know about survival. Now, it was time to put these skills into use. note: wrote this right before rona outbreak on last day in my dorms. thats all

#borderlands #fic masterpost #fanfiction #fanfic #rhysothy #rhys strongfork #timothy lawrence #just tagging characters that I write the most #fiona the con artist #zer0 the assassin #lorelei the coffee commander #athena the gladiator #Ędi's writing

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mysterylover123 · 4 years

Note

I read your IzuOcha meta, and I loved it so much! It made so many good points! Now I’m wondering, since that meta was done a while back, have your opinions on the ship changed since then with the moments that came out afterwards, or are they more or less the same?

Ooh boy, Izuocha. I’m still conflicted over them TBH. They have some seriously sweet moments, but one of the overall problems I have with them is how one-sided their dynamic feels Post-Hero Killer arc. Before that, it felt like Ochako really was at least the third most important person in Deku’s life (after All Might and Kacchan, of course) but since then, their relationship has just stopped being important to Midoriya.

Just to run it down:

1. Hero Killer Arc: Once Izuku goes off to his internship, he doesn’t think about Ochako directly until she calls to ask about Iida.

2. Final Exams: In the Manga, Deku doesn’t talk to Ochako directly for this entire arc. He doesn’t react to her match at all - we hear his thoughts on MIneta’s match and not Ochako’s - and when they are about to hang out together at the mall, she leaves and he spares her no extra thoughts.

3. Training Camp: One scene where he worries about her injured arm and she’s one of the people he thinks of, but only in a crowd, and both feel flacidly unimpressive next to his “KACCHAAAAANNN” freakout feels.

4. Hideout Raid: Ochako says nothing to help him make the choice of whether or not to save Kacchan, or anything at all (in the manga) and he doesn’t think about her opinion except as it pertains to Bakugou. She clearly disagreed with him, but doesn’t voice it, so the two don’t talk about this potential conflict. There’s no one-on-one with them, Ochako just smooths over things with the crew and no resolution happens.

5. PLE arc: Deku ignores Ochako the whole time, excepting the one moment where he recognizes Toga is a fake. He could do that for anyone. He works with her, but he also works with Sero in the same scene. And he finds plenty of time to be inspired by Iida and Kacchan, worry about Todoroki and have his Big Life Altering fight with Kacchan in the same arc, so it’s not that he’s too busy with other shit.

6. Internship arc: Ochako is the only person Deku could actually talk to about his Eri angst, but he doesn’t. In the same scene where Tamaki and Nejire reach out to Mirio, and Kirishima and Aizawa help Deku deal with his angst, Ochako can only say his name. It’s Iida and Todoroki who help him deal with that emotional trauma, and they don’t even know what the problem is. Throughout the whole thing, they fight on seperate levels and Deku never thinks about or notices her.

7. Remedial arc: Ochako and Deku both have PTSD about the same thing (Nighteye’s death) which they blame themselves for. But they never confide in each other about it. Ochako confides in Aizawa and Tsu, Deku in Mirio, and Deku gets some consolation from Aoyama. But from Ochako, nothing.

8. School Festival: Deku is fighting his Villainous Counterpart, Gentle, who is inspired by his Love Interest, La Brava. A perfect opportunity for Deku to reflect on how his love interest, Uraraka, inspires him. Who does he think of? Mei, Jirou and Mina. He and Ochako only talk briefly in this arc when she lends him some tea.

9. Joint training Arc: Supposedly the big Izuocha arc. Two juicy opportunities for Deku’s relationship with her to be built up. First, Monoma could trash Deku’s friend/love interest to piss him off - classic shippy technique, make the hero lose control of his/her powers when the s/o is insulted, and this is the Izuocha arc, Ochako’s on Deku’s team. So who does Monoma insult? Kacchan. Second: Classy Avatar shippy situation where the LI plays on the connection she has with the hero to calm down his Out of control powers. And sure, Ochako hugs Deku. But this does nothing. It’s the emotional connection with Shinsou that helps break it for Deku (I know, the brainwashing. It still feels like the chapter sets you up for Izuocha and gives you Shindeku instead. And in the aftermath, it’s Shoto who asks about Deku’s powers, and Kacchan who he confides in.

10. Winter Intern arc: Ochako keeps Deku’s Christmas gift. He doesn’t keep and treasure hers. He mentions her briefly alongside Shinso to his mom then traipses off to OT3 shippy shenanigans with Kacchan and Shoto, confiding in, learning and growing along side them in ways Ochako has yet to approach. Whether it’s Shoto, the guy he destroyed his body to emotionally rescue, or Kacchan, the near soulmate level rival who knows him better than anyone, doesn’t matter. Deku feels more for them than he does for Ochako now.

11. Current Arc; Deku apologizes to Ochako and they fistbump, which is nice, but not remarkable. No more than went down between Deku and Iida in the Hero Killer Arc. Honestly, it’s a platonic gesture. A bro gesture. And despite being together during the raid for about two chapters, Deku and Kacchan immediately ditch her at the first sign of trouble to go chase down the plot.

So yeah, that was longer then I meant it to be. On Deku’s side, there’s been virtually nothing special to his feelings towards Ochako, especially compared to his interactions with the other members of the Wonder Trio and his various friends, since about Chapter 45. We’re on 280. That’s too long to wait to give the protagonist any real development in his feelings for his love interest for me to really be all that invested on Deku’s end anymore. In theory, I like the idea of Ochako’s cheerful, nice girl attitude helping Deku get through his stressful life, but that hasn’t happened. They honestly also seem too much like siblings to me now (doesn’t help that she has his same facial proportions and looks like his mom) to read as romantic. My remaining interest in them is mainly as a potential OT3 option with Kacchan, if the series ever gets around to developing Kacchan/Ochako’s relationship again, and as a fairly typical “boring Shonen main romantic subplot” against which more compelling dynamics can be contrasted.

I guess this is all a fancy way of saying that I’ve cooled on it now and find it fairly boring, and wish they could just be platonic friends again instead of constantly being put in our faces as they “don’t worry Deku’s not gay he’s got a girlfriend” dynamic they’ve basically turned into.

Thanks for the ask - I hope no Izuocha shippers take offense to this, it’s just my opinion and analysis so far. Things could change. The series could properly develop them again. If so I’ll revise my opinion. Adieu

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lycorogue · 4 years

Text

Love Square Fluff Week: Part 2 - Flowers

UPDATE (2/10/20): I finally had the time to go through and edit. All typos, mispunctuation, and incomplete sentences should be fixed now. Please let me know if you catch any others.

Technically this is the day 3 prompt, written as part 2 on day 4 of @lovesquarefluffweek 2020, and published at 2am on day 5.

Needless to say, I’m all sorts of behind and backwards in this project. I did decide to loosely tie all the prompts together into one cohesive story though, so we’ll see how that goes....

My biggest issue is that I seem to be coming up with super-angsty stories for these prompts, so dialing them down to try to get to Fluff leaves them closer to “warm feelings and happy endings”?

I’m good at this Fluff thing... >_>

Anyway, along with having it posted in full below, you can also read this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA.

Let Me Help You

Summary: Chat Noir struggles to help Marinette out with a major last-minute project. If only his darn claws weren't in the way.

Word Count: 3828 Rating: General Audience Spoilers: Minor “Reflekdoll” and “Troublemaker” spoilers Love Square Side: MariChat with secret Adrienette Romance Level: Sweet Friendship

It was late. Adrien probably shouldn't have been out running through Paris as Chat Noir. And Marinette definitely shouldn't have been frantically pacing her room.

The light caught his eye first. He had no clue how late Marinette stayed up, but Chat Noir wasn't expecting her top-floor room to shine like a lighthouse in the otherwise dim quarter of Paris. Then he saw her jump up from her floor, rake her fingers through her hair, tugging strands out of her pigtails, before pacing in a tight circle. She shook her hands out, stretched her arms, then plopped back below her window.

Wanting to check that everything was alright, Chat Noir leapt over to one of Marinette's windows and gently tapped on the pane.. Inside, she jumped, wheeling around in every direction before zeroing in on the window. Her face then scrunched in confusion. Chat Noir simply pointed up before climbing to her balcony to wait.

A few seconds later, Marinette opened the skylight hatch to her room and poked her head out. “Chat Noir? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Marinette blinked at him, so Chat Noir continued. “Sorry. I just saw you pacing, and it's so late-”

“Oh!” Marinette broke eye contact. “No, I- I'm fine.”

Chat Noir cocked his head to the side. “Didn't look fine. You sure you're okay? You know you can tell me.”

Marinette quickly blinked. “I can? I mean, I do? I mean- Yeah, I know.” She gave him an awkward little smile. “Thank you.”

“So?”

Marinette sighed, then pulled herself up onto the balcony to sit beside Chat Noir. “Sorry, I'm just such a mess right now.” As if it reminded her how literal the statement was, she quickly pulled each half of her hair down, combed it back in place with her fingers, and then re-tied her pigtails.

“Something I can help with?”

“Oh, no. It's late. You probably have superhero-y things to do, or you were heading home-”

Chat Noir held up a hand to pause her. “I offered because I'm free. What's up?”

“It's nothing. I just- I didn't-” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, Chat Noir, I really need to get back to my project. I can't spare any more time.” She slid her feet back through the window, but Chat Noir caught her upper arm.

“Hey, hold up. There's no way I'm going to let you shoulder something that's clearly overwhelming you. What can I do?”

Marinette pursed her lips, again hesitating. “Really, I couldn't take up your time with this.”

“Marinette.” Chat Noir shifted his hand to her shoulder. “Seriously, I want to help. Please let me.”

Marinette simply stared at him for a few more seconds. He shrugged in return, encouraging her to open up. Submitting, she audibly exhaled.

“I was supposed to make three-hundred paper carnations for Kitty Section's music video shoot tomorrow, but I just- I ran out of time. Or, I will if I don't get back to it right now.”

“How close are you?”

“I think I've finished the first hundred.”

“Marinette.” His voice was soft; soothing, non-judgmental, and dripping with sympathy for her plight.

Marinette rubbed the back of her neck, a grimace on her face. “Between school, helping out my folks, finishing up my friend Alya's birthday gift, and- and other responsibilities I have, I just-” She shrugged. “Not enough time in a day.”

“Why didn't you ask for someone else to make them, or help you make them?”

“We all had our own job for the music video. I couldn't just dump more on them.”

“And you can't ask for them to give you a few more days because?”

“Because everyone else is ready for the shoot tomorrow. It wouldn't be fair.”

“Okay, and you took on making flowers for the video in the first place because?”

“It's for my friends. How could I say no?”

Chat Noir chuckled. “Okay, so you couldn't say no to a project you didn't have time for?”

“Exactly.”

“And you couldn't ask for help.”

Marinette shook her head.

“And you couldn't finish the project because you didn't have the time.”

“I have even less because I'm talking to you.”

“Which is why the one thing you can do is let me help.”

“Chat Noir, no.”

“Chat Noir, yes.” He rested his chin in his hand, trying to give Marinette a suave and debonair glance. “What kind of hero would I be if I didn't help a damsel in distress?”

She rested her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “I might be a bit overwhelmed right now, but I'm hardly a 'damsel in distress'.”

“Are you a damsel?”

“Well, I mean, technically-”

“Are you currently in distress?”

“I wouldn't put it in those words exactly.”

“Then you are a damsel that is currently distressing: aka, a damsel in distress. And it is my duty to assist any way I can.”

“Chat Noir-”

“Come on,” he gestured towards the window, “show me the way. Let's make those flowers.”

They stared each other down. Clearly no one told Marinette that you can't beat a cat in a staring contest. Finally, she caved, and waved him to follow her inside.

A rainbow of crepe paper scattered across the floor, and a mountain of green pipe cleaners were stacked on top of Marinette's chaise. A large cardboard box was butted up against Marinette's floral trunk. Over half of the box was still empty.

Chat Noir whistled at the daunting task before them. “Okay. So, how do we make these paper flowers?”

Marinette sighed again before kneeling among her nest of paper. She gestured for Chat Noir to join her. Then, she peeled a piece of crepe paper off her stack, handed it to Chat Noir, and peeled another off for herself.

“First, we need to cut the overall paper down to about twelve centimeters, then we need to fold it accordion-style like this, five times.” She showed him about how large each fold needed to be, then cut the excess off. She then showed him how to cut the folds to make a stack of sheets, and folded accordion-style again. Finding the center of her accordioned stack, Marinette tied on the end of a pipe cleaner, leaving the majority tailing below like a stem. Once secured, she fanned open each side of her stack, then slowly unfolded and fluffed each layer until it looked like a full carnation.

Nodding that he understood how to help with the craft, Chat Noir cut his own section of crepe paper, and started folding. Marinette was half way done with her next flower before Chat Noir finished his initial five folds; taking care not to rip anything with his claws. She was done with two more flowers by the time he started tying on the pipe cleaner.

Marinette chuckled.

“What?” He pouted at her, and delicately began to unfurl the sheets of thin paper.

“Nothing.” She smirked as she shook her head and refocused on her own works.

“No, what is it?”

“Nothing. It's just-” She shrugged. “I dunno. It's amusing to see you sitting in my room, doing crafts with such concentration and care.” She shrugged again before fluffing her current flower.

“Yeah, I guess it is kind of- Shoot!” Chat Noir looked down at his nearly completed first craft. His claw had torn right through one of the petals. “So sorry, Marinette. Can we save it?”

Marinette's tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she inspected the flower. She fluffed the other petals, and finished the side Chat Noir was working on. “It's not perfect, but maybe if they tuck it in the back of the shoot no one will notice.”

Exhaling, Chat Noir nodded, and started on his next flower. For every three Marinette could finish, Chat Noir barely completed one. He was so careful with his claws, but he still kept snagging the paper, asking Marinette for help each time.

“I thought you were supposed to be the one helping me,” she joked as she fixed another flower. “We can't keep too many more of these, or there won't be a point in having the full three-hundred.” She scrunched her face to the side as she thought.

Chat Noir leaned heavily on his crossed legs, his chin in his hands as everything about him deflated a bit. His assistance was becoming more of a bother to Marinette than any sort of aid. He had to find a way to make it right. “What if I fold the paper, and you fluff it into a flower? Then I can't tear it.”

They tried that for a couple more flowers, but it still didn't help. Making sure he didn't tear the paper when folding it in the first place took just as long, and Marinette would still manage to get one of her own flowers made by the time Chat Noir handed his project to her.

“I'm sorry, Chat Noir. I appreciate you trying, but this isn't really helping much.” She chewed her lip as she tucked the scissors by her thigh, keeping them from Chat Noir as he tried to start up another sheet of crepe paper.

“It's because of these claws.” He looked down at his gloved hands and wished he could retract the extended nails. “If I didn't have them I wouldn't have to worry about the paper being so thin.”

“I know. It's not your fault.” She reached out and patted his knee. How did she become the one to comfort him? “I really am grateful that you offered. It means the world to me.”

“Yeah, but you still have so many to make and-” He looked around her room. It was late, and Marinette was already starting to yawn. He couldn't leave her to handle all of this on her own. Maybe he could show up to the shoot the next day with his own box of the flowers? He could do them a lot faster as Adrien than he could as Chat Noir.

That wouldn't work. Adrien wouldn't have known that Marinette needed help with the flowers, she'd probably be embarrassed that he covered for her like that, and it wouldn't stop her from trying to finish them that night, even if she had to pull an all-nighter. Adrien wouldn't be able to help her any better than Chat Noir could.

Or, could he?

Chat Noir's eyes lit up as he spotted some clothes Marinette had piled in the corner of her room. Her pink gym bag was tucked under her vanity sink to her left. This part of Paris was comparatively dark, and Marinette's room was fairly high up.

Plagg was going to hate this plan. So would Ladybug – if she ever found out.

“I've got an idea!” Chat Noir jumped up, skirted the paper carpeting the floor, and grabbed Marinette's gym bag. “Marinette, what are the largest pieces of clothing you own?”

“My largest-? Why do you need-?”

“I can't help you because my claws are in the way.” He held up his hands to showcase his artificial nails. “But, if I didn't have them-”

“No! No way! Nuh-uh.” Marinette was also on her feet now. “You can't transform back! I can't know who you are! No one is supposed to know!”

“And you won't know. It's fairly dark outside, so I'll take some of your clothes, go to your balcony, transform back, change into your clothes so my own can't give you clues on who I am, and if I wear a mask as well, you'll be none the wiser. Do you have a Halloween mask I could also borrow? Or a pillowcase you no longer use and wouldn't mind eye-holes in?”

“Are you serious right now?”

Puffing out his chest, and crossing his arms in front of it, Chat Noir gave a single nod. “Marinette, you are putting too much on your shoulders. I said that I am here to help, and I will. I've figured out how to keep my identity a secret, so what's the problem?”

“The problem is what if I figure out who you are?”

“You won't.”

“What if I look when you're detransformed?”

“You won't. I know you won't.”

That stopped her for a couple of seconds.

“Okay, well, what if the mask falls off?”

“Then you won't look until I put it back on, and I'll pay attention to whether or not it's coming loose.”

“What if-?”

“No. You said so yourself. Time is of the essence, and there's still a ton of flowers to be made. We don't have the time to waste on you arguing with me. I know you won't look, I know you want to keep my secret safe, and I know that we can get these things done in just a few hours if I do this. So let me do it.”

Another stare down. Marinette again lost. Probably because of how tired she already was.

“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy,” Marinette muttered as she rummaged through the trunk. She tossed him a pair of black pants, and a black sweatshirt. She then walked over to a pile of fabric she had tucked over by her desk.

“Thematic. I like it.” Chat Noir held the pieces up against him to make sure they'd fit.

“Here.” She motioned for Chat Noir to hunch down, and when he complied, she wrapped a strip of black fabric around his eyes. “Keep your eyes closed for a second, and let me know if I press too hard.”

“What are you-?” Chat Noir felt pressure along the side of his nose, then on the other side. In a flash the blindfold was off his head. Marinette then cut the fabric, starting at the chalk mark she had made when she measured his nose.

Once done, she slipped the mask back on him. “Can you see alright?”

Chat Noir adjusted it slightly before giving her a thumbs up. Making sure Marinette didn't have time to argue further with him, Chat Noir quickly scooped the pants and shirt up, shouldered her gym bag, and jumped to her rooftop.

“What are you doing?” Plagg scolded once Adrien detransformed.

“I'm helping out Marinette.” Adrien pulled out a wedge of Camembert, and tossed it to Plagg before stripping out of his clothes.

“Ladybug isn't going to like this.” Plagg gulped the cheese down in one bite.

"Which is why she's not going to find out." Plagg quirked an eyebrow at him. "Come on, Plagg, I thought this through. Marinette isn't going to figure me out, and even if she does, she'll keep it to herself. It will be fine." The pants and shirt fit perfectly, as if they were made for him. Adrien wondered for a passing second why Marinette had clothes that fit him so well, but focused instead on the task at hand.

“I hope you really do know what you're doing,” Plagg whimpered. He then zipped over to Adrien and started mussing up his hair.

"Oh! Right! I forgot about that." Adrien shook out his hair, then slid his homemade mask on. Now donning his makeshift superhero suit, he tucked all of his belongings inside Marinette's gym bag, and hid the bag under the lounge chair she kept on her balcony. As he did so he spotted his ring. Marinette had seen Adrien's ring before. She also studied his look for her own design inspiration, so she'd probably recognize his Miraculous while it was deactivated. He couldn't chance tucking it in the bag, not after the Reflekdoll fiasco. He had to make sure he could transform on a moment's notice.

"What are you doing?" Plagg hissed as Adrien began pulling his ring off.

"I can't let her see it. She might figure out I'm Adrien this way."

"Told you this was a bad idea."

"Don't worry, Plagg. I'm not going anywhere without my Miraculous again. I promise." He tucked the ring in his front pocket and patted it. "See? Safe and sound."

Plagg simply glared. Ignoring him, Adrien double checked his mask was secure before padding back to the skylight in his stocking feet.

“Back.” Adrien climbed down the ladder and took his spot on the floor across from Marinette.

She snorted down a laugh, and then another, before she finally let herself giggle.

“What?”

“You look ridiculous, Chat Noir.”

“Yeah, maybe, but you don't know who I am, do you?”

She studied him for a minute before shaking her head. “No, I guess you got me there.”

“Exactly. So,” he clapped and rubbed his hands together, “ready to see how quickly I can actually make these flowers?”

She handed him the scissors with a playful smile. “Care to race to see who can make them fastest?”

“Well that's just not fair,” he protested, “you've had more practice!”

“Oh, don't be a sore loser before we even start,” she teased.

He prepped his paper; she hers, and the race was on. She beat him easily, and he challenged her to a rematch. She again won. And again. And again. And again. The two began laughing as they sped through the project, the piles of paper and pipe cleaners slowly dwindling.

Along with their races – which eventually died off; Chat Noir just could not overtake Marinette's mad crafting skills – the two began to just chat. They avoided anything terribly personal on Chat Noir's part, and he didn't bother asking anything too telling on Marinette's side as well. It was only fair that if he kept his secrets, she could keep hers.

They talked about how the weather was a lot more mild than they were expecting, and how skilled Kitty Section was for an up-and-coming band. Marinette told Chat Noir the concept Nino came up with for the music video, and that the paper carnations were going to be used to make the band members look more like dolls living in a child's imagination.

As the night wound on, Chat Noir and Marinette shifted along her floor, searching for more comfortable positions. Eventually, they ended up side-by-side with their backs against the chaise; the pile of pipe cleaners tucked between their hips, and a small stack of paper to each of their sides.

“And three-hundred.” Marinette declared as she finished fluffing the last of the tied-off crepe paper. “I can't believe we did it!” She pulled out her phone. “And it's only about one-AM. I could actually get some sleep tonight!”

Chat Noir smiled as he watched her pack up the box, quadruple-checking the number of flowers they had made. They were both a bit exhausted, but it wasn't anything he hadn't gotten used to as Chat Noir. Still, the over-tired giddiness in Marinette's voice was infectious. Plus, the sleepy wobble to her steps was kind of adorable.

“Aren't you glad you let me help you, then?”

She turned to him with heavy eyes, and a drowsy smile. Slowly, with a little bob to her head, she nodded. She was clearly minutes away from passing out. Chat Noir wanted to scoop her up, and tuck her into bed. That was probably a bit too much help for one night, though.

“Yeah. Thank you for pushing for me to accept your offer. You truly are my hero.” She toddled over to him, stretched up onto her tip-toes, and pecked a kiss on his cheek.

His cheeks instantly burned with a flash of a blush. Clearing his throat, he skipped away from Marinette, and bent down behind her chaise. When he stood back up he had one more paper carnation in his hand.

“Oh no!” Marinette squeaked. “Did I miss one? I could have sworn I counted right.” She whipped her head over her shoulder, looking at the box.

“No no. This was an extra one,” he twirled the pipe cleaner stem between his fingers before holding the pink paper flower out for Marinette. “For you.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “For the fun evening. For... for teaching me a fun new craft. For the temporary costume. For letting me help. For... I dunno, for being you. I don't know if your friends realize how much effort you put into your relationships, and it was amazing to see. So, to remind you how amazing you are-.” He let the sentence die on his tongue as he again gestured for her to take the flower.

It was her turn to blush as she took the flower from him. Staring at it instead of Chat Noir, Marinette also twirled the flower stem in her fingers, watching the flower spin hypnotically.

While she was distracted, Chat Noir leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek, startling her to catch his eyes with her own. He gave her a playful wink and pulled away. “Your friends are really lucky people to have found you. Always stay as fantastic as you are now. And don't forget to ask for help as well sometimes, 'kay?”

Dumbly, she nodded, and watched Chat Noir climb up to her roof. With a quick solute-wave, he climbed through her window.

He pulled her gym bag out from under the chair, and stared at his clothes tucked inside. He had dozens of those shirts, and the jeans and shoes were easy enough to replace. Would it be all that bad to “accidentally” leave them all behind and just transform with Marinette's costume still on?

“Psst,” Plagg hissed at Adrien, “did you fall asleep? What's the hold-up?”

No. As great as it would be for Marinette to know who Chat Noir truly was, he couldn't betray Ladybug's trust like that. He also couldn't chance putting Marinette in danger, no matter how much he had faith that she wouldn't say anything to anyone.

"So much for having someone new to talk to about the superhero thing," he muttered to himself before sliding his ring back on, stripping out of his loaner costume, and pulling his own clothes on. Tucking Marinette's clothing inside her bag, he dropped it onto her bed, and transformed back into his proper Chat Noir costume.

A couple of seconds later, he heard Marinette climb into bed and whisper “Goodnight, Chat Noir.”

“Goodnight, Princess,” he whispered back. Then he headed home, trying to come up with an excuse for Adrien to also make a paper flower for Marinette.

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razberryyum · 5 years

Video

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 6, Part 1 of 2

(spoilers for everything MDZS/Untamed and a little for Princess Weiyoung)

[covers MDZS chapter 18 and a bit of chaps 56 and 66]

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

(a 🐰 is earned every time there is a WangXian scene or even when they’re just thinking of each other…there’s so much Wangxian-ness in this episode, one post couldn’t contain all of it)

Team CQL went rogue for the two major events featured in this episode—the Cloud Recesses drinking incident and the WangXian bathing scene—and really, bless them and their ancestors for that decision. Not only did the changes provide Wei Ying and Lan Zhan with additional bonding time, but they actually had significant bearing on future events.

Originally in the novel, Lan Zhan didn’t actually partake in the drinking incident that got Wei Ying punished: some nameless disciples, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng were the ones who actually took part in those activities. Lan Zhan only found their drunk asses the next morning and dragged Wei Ying off for disciplinary action (although, from the way the scene was described in the book, it actually seemed like he was more angry at Wei Ying for looking at porn, lol). However, for the live action, that entire scenario was transformed into Lan Zhan actually getting drunk for the first time, albeit against his will. Of course it would have been better if he willingly joined in, but at that point in time, that would have been illogical, not to mention completely out of character for him, so even though Wei Ying sort of did Lan Zhan wrong, there was probably no other way he could have gotten him to share a drink with him otherwise.

I am especially grateful for this change because that is the moment when my eyes were finally open to Wang Yibo’s talents as an actor and I started to really appreciate his performance. Prior to this episode, I was actually wondering if he was playing stoicism so well because that’s really all he was capable of doing, but then, when he dropped that rigid façade and gave us a charmingly adorable drunk Lan Zhan, I realized that everything that came before were indeed acting choices, that he was definitely able to do more than that. Not to mention, he also had pretty good comedic timing. I started to look at him in an entirely new light after watching this episode, and the rest is, as they say, history.

Upon revisiting this episode last night, I finally realized something that I never thought of before, and I feel actually pretty stupid for not even making the connection until now. During the Koi tower scenes in the present, when Wei Ying as the paperman was eavesdropping on Jin Guangyao and his wife’s conversation, I couldn’t figure out how JGY was able to put Qin Su under his control the way he did, but in watching this episode again, it finally came to me: he probably used a modified version of the charm that Wei Ying used on Lan Zhan in here. After all, JGY was one of the many people who raided the Burial Mounds and took over the Yiling Patriarch’s possessions after his death, so it would make sense for him to discover this particular memento as well. When I first watched this episode, I was mainly just impressed by how powerful the charm is that it would be able to put someone like Lan Zhan under its spell, considering he’s not just some lay person, but rather someone who already had a pretty high level of cultivation by then. I simply saw it as yet another indicator of just how talented and powerful Wei Ying was even at that young age. But now, thinking that Team CQL may have laid the groundwork for something that was going to happen so much later just makes me so much more impressed with their planning.

Of course I could simply be overthinking this whole thing and JGY’s magical powers could just be his own magical powers, or something common to the cultivation world that my dumb brain just overlooked, but for those few seconds when I thought I came upon a fascinating connection, I was quite proud of myself, so allow me to coast on that sense of euphoria just a little while more.

Bonding and other cuteness

Of course I loved every single moment of the Drunk!Lan Zhan sequence, starting with that tiny little flirtatious gesture by Wei Ying. Seriously, how CUTE is that?? Makes me smile every time I see it, and I’ve rewound that little moment numerous times. How anyone can be resistant to Wei Wuxian’s charms I can never understand, but clearly Lan Zhan was still holding out on him. I’m glad that Team CQL chose this incident to reveal the nature of the Gusu Lan head ribbon since it directly led to Wei Ying’s bonding moment with Lan Zhan. Even though the other man was still generally cold to him, it was really sweet that Wei Ying still felt comfortable enough to share the precious memory of his parents with him.

It’s a real shame that Lan Zhan didn’t remember any of it the next day, but I did take comfort in the fact that he still knelt by Wei Ying like a united front to receive Uncle Lan’s wrath and punishment. I’m sure most of that was motivated by his own pride and sense of righteousness, but I still found it touching, especially with how much Wei Ying was defending Lan Zhan so that he would be spared the disciplinary action. Wei Ying was much less protective in the novel during that scene–he was mostly indignant–even though he was still the one to blame for Lan Zhan’s involvement in the whole incident by basically tricking him into breaking curfew. I love that even though Team CQL changed the drinking incident, they still managed to maintain the spirit of its novel counterpart, much like they did with the Phoenix Mountain Hunt.

And then of course there was this:

Which was obviously a treat for our imaginations to get our creative juices flowing so that we can imagine on our own what might have taken place during the night that led to Wei Wuxian waking up in his half-dressed state. For this gift, I am eternally grateful to the production team.

Jiang Cheng Has Fun For Once

I was actually surprised that Jiang Cheng would join in on the drinking party because up until then he had spent most of his time basically disapproving everything Wei Ying did while also seemingly in a constant state of worry that he would embarrass their sect. Imbibing alcohol was clearly a violation of Gusu Lan rules so it’s kind of amazing that Jiang Cheng willingly join in on such an act of rebellion. Nie Huaisang, on other hand, I totally expected to be a part of the shenanigans…I would’ve expected nothing less from him…but Jiang Cheng was a pleasant surprise. I really enjoyed seeing him let loose like that, especially since we got to find out what he looked for in a mate.

The sad thing is Wen Qing actually fit all of his requirements for a wife, except for that family one, which i in the end, proved to be the most important one after all since it became the deal-breaker, dooming their relationship before it even got a chance to get started.

Another rather sad aspect of seeing Jiang Cheng so at ease and acting like a total goofball is that this really would be the only time we would ever see him this way. His time at Cloud Recesses was probably the most enjoyable and carefree for him. I doubt he was ever able to enjoy himself the same way again. It actually makes me wonder if he EVER was able to have fun, period, during the last 16 years. Just thinking about what he’s gone through makes me wish I could give him a great big hug.

Reason #10 for Why I love Big Bro Lan Xichen

His amused reaction to hearing about Wei Ying’s transgression:

…which was immediately followed by his “oh shit” response to hearing his little bro was also involved.

Big Bro Xichen is just too adorable, AND HE DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD DAMMIT.

Uncle Lan is One Mean Mofo

Seriously, what’s with Lan Qiren’s obsession with the number 300? I really need to know if there’s some significance to that number since it’s featured in BOTH of the major disciplinary incidents in the show that were carried out by Uncle Lan. For this first outing, those rulers looked downright brutal; it’s a utter miracle that Wei Ying and Lan Zhan were even able to survive being beat 300 times with that medieval torture device. At the very least their spines should’ve been broken, paralyzing them for the rest of their lives. In the novel they were only caned 100 times, which is still a lot but it’s still a somewhat grounded enough number that I could believe they would be able to heal from their injuries. But 300? They should be maimed. I’ve noticed that with chinese dramas though: they tend to be excessive when it comes to inflicting punishment. I actually stopped watching a show once because the main character was being beaten repeatedly in the stomach (Princess Weiyoung) while being held prisoner. That particular character should not have survived that beating…at the very least he would’ve needed his nutrients to be delivered by IV for the rest of his life (even though IVs didn’t exist yet) because there was no way his stomach was ever going to work again after that. I was almost offended by how ignorant the screenwriters were about basic anatomical and biological functions so I decided to just stop watching (well, the fact that I wasn’t that into the show anyway probably contributed to my decision as well) Of course the 300 floggings weren’t enough to discourage me from continuing forward with The Untamed, but it did throw me out of the show for a good moment because I couldn’t get over how ridiculous that number was. Uncle Lan really has a sadistic streak in him

Not to mention, he was also surprisingly tactless. He had just learned about Wei Wuxian’s mom from big bro Xichen and I couldn’t believe that he would just throw that info at the Wei Ying in such a careless way, only to shut him down when the poor guy desperately asked for more details about his mom. Uncle Lan had to know enough about Wei Ying’s background to understand how sensitive he would be in regards to his deceased parents, so I was actually taken aback by how heartless Uncle Lan was being during that scene, so much so that for a while after, I really wasn’t feeling much love towards him. Although, now that I think about it, love is probably a misnomer any way since I doubt I would ever love Uncle Lan nor can I even say I ever actually liked him–he’s too much of a fuddy-duddy for my tastes. It’s more like I just accept his existence, appreciate his importance to the Lan brothers, and I find his disapproval of Wei Ying kind of amusing. But in that moment, I definitely did straight out dislike him for being such a cold SOB, especially towards Wei Wuxian.

To be continued in Part 2…(posted)

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