#But he has a terrible habit of saying something so insensitive people go from charmed to disgusted really quick

[papercutslut]

Imo Stanley and Stanford are both objectively attractive but they also both suck ass at flirting so they end up only with weirdos (and me)

[kinatalks]

Let’s talk about DiaLuci.

Look, this isn’t a judgement call. This is merely a flat out explanation and something that should be recognized. There will be a few S2-3 spoilers, but it’s mainly vague, not going into details.

Be aware: This covers sensitive topics regarding the ship, toxic behaviors, abusive relationships, and the angel event.

Firstly, if you support DiaLuci, good for you! I’m not here to shame someone for their ships. But this fandom has a habit of attacking others who aren’t so fond of this ship. Someone can like Diavolo, and not support Dialuci. You can support Lucifer, and not like Dialuci. Or hell, you could dislike either/or both characters and fucking love the ship! No matter which character or ship you like or dislike, you are completely valid.

But this is a post, about the issues with the ship that I personally see, and why it should be more outspoken.

Now lets get to the point of the subject, shall we?

I fairly like Diavolo. He’s charming, joyous, and someone who would be the star of a party. Someone cheerful and bright. However, the way that this fandom persecutes anyone who doesn’t like Diavolo or feels uncomfortable around him is not ok.

In my opinion, Diavolo has shown signs of immature and insensitive behavior. I.e. the way he treats others like toys. Yes, he cares about them, but often doesn’t consider their feelings in things he considers ‘mere pranks.’ This may be because Barbatos constantly assures him that the future will be fine, since Barbatos can manipulate and choose timelines.

He wants the best for the people around him, but doesn’t exactly take criticism or resistance to his advances kindly. “Well duh, he’s a ruler!�� So? Yes, he’s a ruler, but that doesn’t mean he should be inconsiderate about others around him. The fact that he disregards others opinions unless it fits his agenda, is a sign of his childishness.

Which means, that over time, Diavolo doesn’t hold much regard to his actions, as Barbatos is always there to catch him. Now that doesn’t mean he constantly is reckless. When it comes to official Devildom matters, Diavolo is an apt ruler, who makes decisions for the Devildom’s best interests.

The problem is, no one has told Diavolo about his less than savory behavior. Because they fear him, and fear the punishments he could inflict upon them. So I can’t really say that he’s a completely bad character.

He wants Lucifer to be his equal, and acknowledge the fact that Diavolo sees him as an equal. Diavolo’s lonely, and it’s explicitly stated as so. He envies the closeness the brothers have. So, he goes about it in the only way he knows how. Which we’ll get to a bit later.

As for Lucifer, I can’t deny I’m quite fond of him. He does his best to overcome his pride for MC, and gradually (in S2-3), he becomes more open with his feelings. Yes, he’s a deeply flawed character, but he’s not a complete villain. The world simply isn’t as black and white as some would like it to be.

Yes, his relationship with some of his brothers is toxic. The way he treats Mammon at times is unacceptable, and possibly abusive in my opinion. The fact that he acts cold and distant to his brothers at times isn’t ok. But one thing I’ve seen others overlook, is that Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride. Does this excuse his actions? No. Does it explain some of his habits? Yes.

Don’t get me wrong, he still has a lot to work on. But he’s getting there, and actively trying to get better.

Now for the ship.

You do not need to like a ship, just because a character from that ship is constantly seen with the partner. Like I’ve said above, you can hate or love Diavolo or Lucifer, and dislike/like the ship.

As for the oath, I won’t delve too deep into this, as it would take essays upon essays worth of information. But we all know that, Diavolo had given Lucifer an ultimatum. Save Lilith, at the cost of Lucifer’s unquestionable loyalty.

Which as we’ve seen, Lucifer had agreed to the terms. And so, he is now Diavolo’s most trusted advisor, his right hand man.

Even though Diavolo says or implies that he sees Lucifer as an equal. He doesn’t always seem to show it. The power imbalance in between both characters is evident, throughout the plot of the story. If Lucifer denies Diavolo’s advances, Diavolo will continue. Why?

Well, you could argue that his behavior is due to him being royalty. Which is true, he’s royalty, and has never been told no. Barbatos has always been there, fixing his mess, so why would he need to worry?

Diavolo praises Lucifer, in a manner that is clearly uncomfortable to the latter. It’s evident that Lucifer despises being praised for his beauty, and just his looks. I’ve seen blogs see it as ‘just a joke’ or ‘being playful’. But time and time again, Lucifer has denied these advances, very obviously disliking the attention and focus on his looks.

But Diavolo continues, and in his defense, you could say, ‘because Lucifer doesn’t say that he’s uncomfortable!’. It’s very obvious that Lucifer isn’t an equal to Diavolo, no matter how much the latter insists he is. We’ve seen Diavolo brush off other’s discomfort at his actions, and we’ve seen him continue.

Diavolo is not evil. This is quite clear, even though he may be suspicious to some. However, his relationship tactics and methods of relationships have toxic, and quite possibly abusive effects.

For example. The angel event.

We all know, that the bangles controlled the 7 avatars, turning them all into angels. Their outfits, and minds, were taken over. The brothers, (excluding Satan.) had gone through traumatic events in these outfits, that’s for sure.

The celestial war, and losing Lilith, all were incredibly traumatizing events forever affecting their mindsets from that day forward. The bangles attempted to brain wash them, and we can see it when Satan states that he doesn’t feel like himself, that he felt calm.

But you might think, “But being calm is great! Isn’t that what he always wantd?’. Not quite.. All Satan had known before was wrath, and being calm completely took away an important part of him. Even though Satan had always resented his wrath, his sin, he had felt like a part of himself was miserable without it. He wasn’t himself, and felt as if he were being forced to be calm, something he loathes.

In all of the brothers, we can see that they are clearly distressed, and may come out of this situation traumatized. 

Lucifer is no exception. We saw how visibly upset he was, the fact that the snow-white wings on his back gave him a constant reminder of the war and Lilith, throughout the entire ordeal.

What was Diavolo doing this entire time? He was being provided entertainment, and reveled the sight before him. He enjoyed seeing the brothers in their angelic uniforms, where they had fought with tooth and nail for their sister, and who knows what else. He enjoyed the fact that the brothers were having angelic ideals forced inside their heads.

And when someone speaks up against him? He’s passive aggressive about it, until the person opposing him gives up, begs for forgiveness, or embarrasses themselves.

While criticism of any of the characters is deemed valid and peachy in this fandom. I haven’t seen any criticism of Diavolo that wasn’t met with backlash and intense hounding. Lucifer, Satan, Belphegor, have all been criticized, but has the majority really deemed those opinions as invalid? No. We can all see why those arguments are valid, and people have their own reasons.

Hell, we’ve all seen people Lucifer left and right. And you know what? They’re completely valid! Some people may have triggers/squicks in regards to his behavior, and it’s completely understandable.

But the moment someone criticized Diavolo, we see fighting and targeting. The person who speaks up gets pushed down and insulted, until they either give up, or agree. If you like Diavolo, good for you, you’re valid! If you don’t, you’re completely valid!

Now back to the ship. Apologies for getting off topic, but oftentimes, when Diavolo and Lucifer are mentioned separately, they’re roped together.

Abusive/toxic relationships aren’t always one where the abusive/toxic partner is an outright terrible person. Oftentimes, they come with charm, a dazzling smile, and friends that would fight tooth and nail for them.

Diavolo has Lucifer in an....uncomfortable position to say the least. In power dynamics, that is. Lucifer is constantly embarrassed publicly and privately by compliments, and Diavolo knows this. He’s demeaned by the oath, and as for work, Diavolo often adds to it, just for fun. I.e, leaving the Devildom to come to the human world, leaving his responsibilities behind.

“But he’s lonely!” Yes, and? He is lonely, yes, but there is a time and place for fun, and time and place for work. He is going to become a King, and if he puts all this responsibility and stress on Lucifer, it simply isn’t right.

They have their good moments, but that absolutely does not make up for the state of the relationship as a whole. Just because someone has their good moments, doesn’t mean you accept and forgive them. That’s like saying that someone who physically abuses their S/O, is a good partner because they occasionally make them dinner. It simply isn’t correct.

Majority of the time, Diavolo is fine with Lucifer being reduced to a pretty face and belittled. In public, which very clearly hurts Lucifer’s pride and reputation.

Many people can resonate with some of these behaviors, having seen them in their past.

So please. Tag your works as DiaLuci for others uncomfortable with it, stop attacking others who dislike the ship, and for fucks sake, enough with hating people who dislike a character and/or ship.

[yjkyungwan-blog]

𝐒𝐔𝐏 , 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒  !   i’m  very  excited  to  finally  be  here  !  the  name’s  ysa  (  she / her  ,  pst  )  and  i’m  coming  to  you  live  ,  acai  bowl  in  hand  ,  to  introduce  you  to  the  biggest  pain  in  my  ass  ,  CHOI  KYUNGWAN  .  okay  ...  maybe  not  the  biggest  ,  but  he’s  up  there  .  he’s  been  at  the  yujaen  sharehouse  for  about  a  month  now  and  currently  works  as  an  employee  at  the  LAVISH  DRAGON  SPA  as  well  as  a  part  time  DELIVERY  BOY  for  kentucky  fried  chicken  .  his  detailed  profile  and  connections  page  will  be  linked  below  and  if  you’d  like  to  plot  with  him  ,  please  GIVE  THIS  POST  A  LIKE  and  i’ll  be  sure  to  make  your  hotline  bling  via  the  tumblr  ims  .  or  if  you’d  much  rather  prefer  to  figure  things  out  on  d*scord  ,  feel  free  to  add  me  @  stream  me  by  clc#5398  .  * mark  lee  vc *  let’s  get  it  !!

               profile  .  connections  .  //  trigger  warning  for  death  mention  .

NAME:  choi  kyungwan  .

FACE  CLAIM:  jung  jaewon  .

PREFERRED  PRONOUNS:  he / him  .

AGE:  twenty  two  .

DATE  OF  BIRTH:  october  30  ,  1996  .

ZODIAC:  scorpio  sun  ,  gemini  moon  ,  cancer  rising  .

PERSONALITY  TYPE:  istp  .

ROOM:  yugji  building  ,  room  1b  .

+  witty  ,  perceptive  ,  flexible  ,  leisurely  ,  charming  .  /  -  blunt  ,  dishonest  ,  reserved  ,  unorganized  ,  noncommital  .

AESTHETICS:  #being  paid  on  time  ,  #vegetarian-friendly  food  options  at  restaurants  ,  #tyrian  purple  ,  #winning  bets  ,  #smoking  cigarettes  ,  #getting  the  last  laugh  ,  #cats  ,  #pineapple  on  pizza  is  good  you  just  have  terrible  taste  ,  #denim  jackets  ,  #staying  up  late  ,  #cold  beers  ,  #spraying  febreze  ,  #buying  lottery  tickets  ,  #sarcasm  ,  #bragging  rights  ,  #sour  gummy  worms  ,  #the  rush  of  adrenaline  from  catching  your  bus  or  train  at  the  last  second  , #wellness  shots  ,  #the  nightmare  before  christmas  ,  #happy  delirium  ,  #when  the  ocean  refuses  to  stop  kissing  the  shoreline  ,  #finding  money  in  your  pocket  that  you  forgot  you  had  .

born  in  yongsa  ,  south  korea  .  only  child  .  grew  up  under  the  care  of  both  his  parents  and  lived  quite  comfortably  .  his  family  owns  lavish  dragon  spa  ,  which  is  considered  to  be  the  biggest  and  most  popular  bathhouse  in  town  .  his  father  is  the  primary  owner  and  keeps  an  eye  on  all  the  day-to-day  activities  ,  while  his  mother  runs  the  books  and  takes  care  of  everything  from  a  public  relations  standpoint  .  as  his  parents  worked  full  time  ,  a  lot  of  his  childhood  was  spent  in  daycare  facilities  or  with  his  late  paternal  grandfather  .

out  of  all  his  immediate  family  members  ,  kyungwan  considered  himself  to  be  the  closest  with  his  grandfather  .  his  most  favorite  memory  of  them  spending  time  together  was  when  he  was  three  years  old  ;  in  the  middle  of  summer  ,  he  distinctly  remembers  ,  walking  along  the  seashore  of  yongsa  beach  ,  holding  hands  and  laughing  as  he  eats  an  ice  cream  cone  and  accidentally  drops  it  into  the  sand  .

when  he  passed  away  ,  kyungwan  took  a  long  time  to  process  and  accept  it  .  the  concept  of  death  was  a  hard  pill  to  swallow  for  a  kid  his  age  ;  he  was  a  little  confused  and  a  lot  sad  ,  and  didn’t  exactly  know  how  to  deal  with  it  .  he  also  wasn’t  one  to  be  outwardly  emotionally  expressive  ,  still  isn’t  to  this  day  ,  so  instead  of  spilling  tears  or  talking  about  it  ,  he  withdrew  into  this  shell  for  a  good  chunk  of  his  first  year  of  middle  school  .

things  took  an  upturn  when  he  got  involved  with  tennis  .  his  mother  ,  worried  sick  about  his  well-being  ,  forced  him  into  the  idea  in  the  midst  of  his  “  i  don’t  want  to  do  this  ,  you  can’t  make  me  ”  tantrums  because  she  believed  he  needed  to  do  something  ,  anything  to  get  him  out  of  the  rut  he  was  in  ,  and  she  was  not  going  to  stand  by  and  watch  her  son  sit  tight-lipped  and  grieving  .  turns  out  ,  he  had  a  knack  for  the  sport  ;  he  didn’t  want  to  admit  it  at  first  but  he  liked  it  ,  and  he  liked  that  he  could  channel  all  of  his  negative  energy  out  on  the  court  .  it  was  a  way  for  him  to  express  himself  without  actually  having  to  express  himself  ...  verbally  .

unfortunately  his  interest  in  tennis  lessened  over  time  ,  just  as  his  interests  in  other  things  grew  over  time  ,  and  he  doesn’t  play  much  anymore  .  he  still  considers  it  a  hobby  ,  though  .

as  briefly  mentioned  above  ,  kyungwan  works  as  an  attendant  at  lavish  dragon  spa  .  it’s  a  job  some  may  consider  a  “  hand  out,  ”  due  to  the  fact  that  his  parents  are  the  ones  in  charge  ,  but  don’t  let  him  catch  you  saying  that  .  he  doesn’t  mind  it  ,  working  there  ;  it’s  basically  a  second  home  to  him  .  his  father  keeps  on  insisting  to  groom  him  for  management  but  he’s  not  entirely  sure  he  wants  to  commit  to  that  yet  .  it’s  nice  to  think  about  ,  a  good  backup  plan  ,  but  he’s  not  100  %  sold  .  he  doesn’t  want  to  be  tied  down  .  wants  to  explore  all  his  options  .

aside  from  his  job  at  the  bathhouse  ,  he  also  makes  money  through  a  part  time  job  doing  deliveries  for  kentucky  fried  chicken  .  which  is  so  ironic  ,  given  that  he  doesn’t  even  eat  meat  ,  but  who  is  choi  kyungwan  if  not  a  walking  paradox  ?  he  responded  to  a  wanted  ad  one  day  ,  went  in  ,  got  the  job  ,  and  it  sticks  .  he’s  not  complaining  .  most  nights  he’ll  come  home  smelling  like  grease  and  fried  chicken  .  and  depending  on  who  you  ask  ,  that  could  not  be  a  bad  thing  .

to  be  specific:  kyungwan  is  pescetarian-vegetarian  ,  which  means  he  follows  a  strict  plant-based  diet  with  an  incorporation  of  seafood  .  he  doesn’t  eat  meat  for  any  extreme  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  it  .  feels  nauseous  and  sluggish  after  eating  it  .  he’s  not  going  to  go  out  of  his  way  to  hound  people  who  do  eat  meat  ,  and  he  doesn’t  get  bothered  if  you  eat  some  infront  of  him  .  he  merely  won’t  have  a  bite  .  period  .

kind  of  charming  ,  kind  of  an  asshole  .  knows  how  to  use  words  to  get  by  and  truly  believes  karma  doesn’t  apply  to  him  .  sugarcoating  isn’t  in  his  vocabulary  ;  he’ll  tell  you  how  it  is  ,  plain  and  simple  .  sometimes  he  can  come  off  insensitive  in  this  regard  ,  but  he  doesn’t  mean  to  hurt  people  intentionally  .  nine  times  out  of  ten  ,  the  things  he  says  or  does  are  for  his  own  benefit  and  the  people  around  him  are  an  afterthought  .  but  that  doesn’t  mean  he  doesn’t  care  about  his  friends  and  loved  ones  .  he  does  .  he  just  understands  that  at  the  end  of  the  day  ,  the  only  person  that’s  going  to  take  care  of  him  is  himself  ,  and  he  wants  to  protect  his  heart  above  all  else  .  he’s  been  careless  before  ,  too  trusting  ,  and  has  had  ex  friends  and  ex  relationships  walk  all  over  him  .

has  an  affinity  for  smoking  .  it’s  a  habit  he  picked  up  from  those  he’s  been  hanging  around  with  these  days  .  he  won’t  smoke  in  the  sharehouse  ,  he  knows  better  not  to  ,  but  he’ll  light  a  cigarette  outside  .  there  are  times  where  he  has  tried  to  quit  but  it  hasn’t  broken  ground  yet  .  the  longest  he’s  gone  without  smoking  was  two  months  ...  let’s  see  if  he  can  beat  that  .

tends  to  get  into  fights  .  mighty  prideful  .  his  parents  ,  or  more  so  his  father  ,  hates  the  kind  of  person  kyungwan  is  becoming  and  they  never  see  eye  to  eye  on  his  choices  .  his  mother  ,  on  the  other  hand  ,  always  gives  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  and  stays  perpetually  worried  about  him  .  she’s  been  like  that  ever  since  he  was  young  and  he  knows  she’ll  never  change  .

he  moved  out  of  his  parents’  house  because  he  couldn’t  stand  the  suffocation  he  felt  from  living  under  their  roof  .  they  constantly  argued  and  went  back  and  forth  ,  and  at  the  time  things  seemed  definite  and  final  .  he  then  moved  in  with  his  now  ex  girlfriend  and  lived  with  her  for  a  few  months  before  their  imminent  break  up  ,  prompting  him  to  find  a  new  place  to  stay  .  he  contemplated  going  back  to  his  parents  ;  was  actually  about  a  block  or  two  away  from  the  front  door  before  he  talked  himself  out  of  it  and  went  to  look  into  hostels  and  every  other  possible  affordable  accommodations  .

and  that’s  how  he  wound  up  at  the  yujaen  .  this  living  situation  is  more  tentative  than  anything  ,  though  it’s  already  been  a  month  and  he’s  still  there  .  he’s  not  the  worst  roommate  or  housemate  in  the  world  but  there  are  definitely  some  things  he  needs  to  work  on  .

[posterchildrenaudiobook-blog]

The Posterchildren Audiobook is reopening auditions for certain roles. Although we got a lot of amazing submissions, we want to do one more call for auditions.

In general we are looking for more adult voices. This has less to do with the voice actor’s age and more the tone of their voice. Although all characters listed below are reopened for auditions, Amira bint Balqis and Mercy Bliss are two in particular we are actively searching for more auditions for.

In addition to the adults, we are also looking for more auditions for Malek ‘Mal’ Underwood.

If you have auditioned for any of these characters, it does not mean you did not get the role. We are short more mature-sounding voices in general, hence the second call. If you have already auditioned but want to send in another audition for one of the roles below, you are more than welcome to.

We are also reopening auditions for The Narrator.

Full list of the characters reopened for auditions under the cut, as well as how to audition for them.

We are open for auditions for these characters until October 29.

In addition to your audio clip(s), please include the following information in your email. Please send all auditions to posterchildrenaudiobook@gmail.com.

Your Name: Pronouns: Ethnicity: Age: Are you okay with being cast in a smaller role? Y/N

You do not have to match the gender identity of the character you are auditioning for.

You are welcome to audition for multiple characters, and we may ask you to read for a character that you did not audition for.

Please note, this is not a paid project.

THE NARRATOR To audition for the Narrator, please record yourself reading 60 seconds or so of a book. It can be any book, although something that is YA fiction is preferred.

Please remember that being the narrator does require more of a time commitment than one of the character roles.

Malek ‘Mal’ Underwood 14 year old boy, Arab (raised in Oregon) Mal is extremely intelligent, driven, and focused on being the best. Sometimes seen as uncaring or cold, he actually just struggles to express himself. He makes friends with difficulty, but once he sees you as a friend he is absolutely loyal. The child of two of the most famous heroes of this world, he knows people are looking at him to show weakness or to reveal that he is destined for a fall, like his older brother. He will not let this happen.

Line 1: (factual, insensitive) “So. Sixty-seven. I was reviewing your scores. A two in strategy…a one in acting…you realize that you need to break one hundred if you want to join any law enforcement agency upon graduation, don’t you? And your combat score. Unfortunate.”

Line 2: (struggling to open up) “Allow me to be frank. My score has put me at a severe disadvantage. If Zipporah and I are to graduate into the capstone class, it is imperative that we pick up as many of those extra points as possible. And to that end, we may require your help.”

Line 3: (dangerous) “You have a habit of not listening, and I have a habit of losing my temper. One of us is going to have to break his habit. And I swear to you that it will not be me.”

Line 4: (genuine) “You’re not terrible, Zipporah Chance. Not all of the time, at least.”

John Wright adult, white Ernest’s father, one of the most well-known heroes in the world. Superman meets a golden retriever.

Line 1: (proud) “When’d you get so big, kiddo? Can’t really call you my li’lanything anymore, can I? Good God Almighty, I can hardly even call you my little man. Just look at you.”

Line 2: (angry and mourning) “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. A week ago, most of you were screaming for his blood. Well, you got it. You got him.”

Amira bint Balqis adult, Arab (Lebanese/Ethiopian) Malek’s mother, one of the most well-known heroes in the world. A master strategist, known for her poise and composure.

‘English is Amira's third language; she grew up speaking Arabic and French at home, although she has lived much of her life in English-speaking countries. When she was a young girl, she tried to hide her accent, but by the age of twelve she gave up trying to mask it, having realized that she would be viewed as Other regardless. The French influence is most readily apparent in her accent, which grows stronger when she is tired or emotional.’ - taken from Amira’s page on the Posterchildren Wiki (not spoiler free)

Line 1: (honest) “You say that you see flashes of something inspirational in him. Is it so difficult to imagine that he sees something in you that inspires him as well?”

Line 2: “If you think that you will get anything out of me without so much as a hug hello, you severely underestimate my ability to withhold information, my handsome son.”

Marshal Underwood adult, white One of the most famous rogue former heroes, the brother of Mal and Ellie, the son of Corbin and stepson of Amira. Has a temper, and once he gets his teeth in something he’ll die before he lets go. His charm often surprises people, and he’s not a bad guy, whatever the tabloids might say. He just doesn’t care about the rules.

Line 1: (furious) “You had three years with him. Me? I had sixteen. I was his partner. His son. You were a disappointing little surprise. So be a lamb and tell me what the hell it was you did that got him killed.”

Line 2: (apologetic) “I’m a fuckstick.”

Madam Ghostlight quite an old lady An actress and a former spy. Very wise, knows more about the history of the school than anyone. Professor Trelawny meets Peggy Carter, but Jewish

Line 1: “And that, my dears, is the power of the light touch. Ordinarily, mind control is an invasive and unpleasant affair. The usual methods are nothing short of rapacious, which I find—  Repulsive. In my experience, so much can be gained through a light touch. I received more information than I asked for, and I got it in a way that was kind to my target.”

Sofia Galan-Grant adult, Latina Tenacious and stubborn, a loving mother and wife. Very clever, often shows her affection with teasing.

Line 1: “And then you turned into Rambo, mi querida.“

Mercy Bliss adult, African-American The school nurse, and a luck manipulator, so a kind and caring lady who is very good at looking on the bright side.

Line 1: “Well, if it isn’t my favorite bucket of sunshine. I hope you haven’t gone and got yourself banged up again. Isn’t it a little early in the day for running your pretty little face into walls, Zipporah?”

Scott Carter adult, white A self-professed nerd. Awkward and enthusiastic. The history teacher.

Line 1: “So going into this merger of main characters, I want you to think about your histories. In an essay of five hundred words or more, give me your origin story. Who are you? How did you get here? What does being a posthuman mean to you?”

Cat Newmeyer adult, white Sports bubble-gum pink hair and a bunch of colourful tattoos, is also one of the toughest people around. Confident and bubbly with a very solid base of ‘could take pretty much anyone in a fight.’

Line 1: (pumping up a group) “The rules of Scavenge are easy-peesie-lemon-squeezie. This is what you’ll be looking for. We call them the glow jugs! My assistant, the lovely Kirrily Quinn, will demonste the proper carrying methods.”

Jasper James adult He’s scrappy in every sense of the word, and the youngest teacher on staff. Excited about combat, and can come on a little strong at times.

Line 1: “Dodging knives isn’t considered an athletic skill? Okay, okay. I get it. You’re not feeling the practical applications lesson. I can respect that, I guess. So how about we take this party outside and do a few rounds of rock-paper-scissors?”

Sal Santini adult, Italian-American Relaxed, patient, and very dangerous.

Line 1: “I also figured that you won’t let me die without hearing me out. So now that we’re both in danger of being dead men come dawn, I’ve got your full attention, don’t I?”

Kirrily Quinn adult, Australian

Line 1: “Strewth, give the woman a drum roll already! Give her a drum roll, or we’ll be here all night.”

[ellebeebee]

A character study of Victoire, Sabine’s foster sister/lady’s maid.

1749 words, no paring, general rating

Once, Chrétien, the second child and the oldest son, asked her where she came from.

“I am a fae,” Victoire had said. “Sent out from the other realms as punishment.”

“Did you do something bad?”

“Yes, very.  I was too inquisitive.  You see, Her Majesty, the Fae Queen, has a little room she locks from the rest of us with a little golden key.  Beneath the door is a crack from which such strange shadows slipped.  I could never get a hold of the key, so instead one day I peeked into that crack.  I was caught and cast out.”

“What was in the room?”

“Perhaps I will tell you when you are older.”

“Ugh, you’re just like Mama and Papa.”

“And you are just like the silly little gnomes of the other realms.  Foolish and impatient.”

“Is Madame Jean a fae?  She is very strange.”

“No, she’s a witch.  I don’t think there is anyone like me here.  I think I shall always be alone.”

“You’re with us though.  Won’t you be like us?”

Victoire had sent Chrétien out to play.  No, she would never really be like this family.  She stuck out like sudden snow on spring soil, among their brown and tawny faces.  Two foolish parents with more blood than sense, and eight children riding a thin edge between little aristocrats and wildlings.  Victoire was not one of them, but so what?  What was one more amongst their brood?  Especially when she could cook and clean and play a pretty tune on the pianoforte.

Inevitably, she became Sabine’s companion by way of the closeness in their ages and the girl’s own persistent sociability.  Sometimes the other girl had moods of sullenness and vanity, but she did have much to resent in her situation and too few opportunities to merely be herself without the responsibility of irresponsible parents.  Victoire weathered it all coolly; the excessive bad temper along with the sweetness desperately struggling to survive in such hostile conditions.

Of course, it was not always so bad.  There were periods of better situation, and it is curious to note that as wealth became more plentiful in the house, Victoire’s own position as companion or foster sister became demoted to lady’s maid.

It mattered little.

It was all the same to Victoire, as long as she had warm feet, a square meal, and a quiet corner in which to read and recover from the day.  She did not desire further relationships, but did not begrudge Sabine’s desire for her company.  She did not harbor ambition, but did not mind assisting with Sabine’s deep-rooted dissatisfaction.

Victoire had no great designs on being a grand lady’s maid, but neither did it repel her.

Yet when they entered Namaire’s house, and certain entrenched women in the staff began vying for a spot on the baroness’s personal staff, her reaction surprised her.  Victoire dug in her heels and rebuffed those that could not be trusted.

“It’s not as if you have any say in it,” a particularly brazen of these had said to her face. “After all, I heard you were just some foundling-- a little orphan that wandered into that decrepit old house of theirs.”

“Well, you were misinformed,” Victoire had said. “I am a ghost made flesh.  I had haunted that house for centuries, in such pain and distress that I had long since forgot my original humanity.  Then I heard a pretty little song sung by those children.  My feelings were so moved, I became corporeal again, so that I could protect them.  But I do still feel dark currents of the dead.  Everywhere.  Especially in this house.”

“W-well, I never!”

When the baron died, Victoire had ordered all the red silk, helped Sabine through her tears, and given the widow all the names that should be expunged from the household.  The days were much more orderly, afterward, and Victoire was pleased to be able to read a great deal more. Not that there weren’t things to be done; no, there were the parties, and the scheming, and all the new business and political speculations.  Not to mention to mention the romantic misadventures.

Victoire sometimes supposed she should attempt to get more from life.  Being good at being a lady’s maid or the staff supervisor was one thing.  But a family or a lover or anything of that nature did not interest her.  People, on the whole, did little to interest her.

So she did not think much on her own feelings when Sabine departed for the Summit.

“What will you do, Victoire?”

“Perhaps I will fly back to my homeland on the moon where there is perpetual twilight.  Or visit my mer cousins deep beneath the blue waves.”

“Oh haha, very funny.  This may be the last time we see each other.  I will write, of course, to tell you if I make any decisions, but…  I want you to know that you are free to choose another life.”

“You say that quite a lot.”

“Well, I mean it.  You do puzzle me, dear.  I can never tell if you are happy with me or not.  And I have known you too long to be insensitive to your well-being.”

“The barony still needs looking after.  That steward can’t handle everything.  I am quite content with that.”

“Very well.  Do write.  And not just about the barony.  About yourself, and if you change your mind.”

“Good-bye, Sabine.”

As was her habit, the baroness parted tearfully.

And Victoire spent some weeks walking the quiet halls of the Namaire estate, only half-remembering the peals of laughter and the clink of champagne flutes and the music of the absent guests and their entertainments.  Everyone walked on timid feet, especially around Victoire.  If the baroness married again, and moved away, then much of the staff would be let go.  And Victoire would be making many of those decisions.

It was nice to be respected, but it was better to be left in peace.

-

My darling Victoire,

I have been quite foolish, my dear.  I have somehow misplaced my senses entirely these past few weeks, and allowed myself to be swept up in the empty flatteries of a paramour.  I am to be wed.  To His Highness, Prince Zarad of Corval.

What can I say?  He is a fool, I am a fool, and we shall be terrible little fools together.

I know you don’t care for these sort of details, but I am helpless in the face of my own silliness-- I must confess that he is dreadfully glib and overtly charming and with such an ego!  And before you say that sounds familiar, I shall inform you that I am always sincere, and never do I participate in his sort of chicanery. 

But I am so fond of him.

I am sure I am losing your attention at this point, so I will get straight to it.  I would like to know what you want to do.  You are free to stay at Namaire, but if you wish for a different position, in Revaire or wherever your heart should fancy, merely say the word and I will manage it.  If you wish for an alliance, I may have some ideas that could put you in a very nice station in life.

If, and I will confess this is the option I selfishly prefer-- if you wish to follow me to Corval, I will exert my utmost influence to allow it.  I think Corval will suit you, and I mean that in the most complimentary way.

Perhaps not the heat, though.  You do burn so easily.  We shall buy hats.

Write to me soon, as there are only a few weeks left.

Your loving Sabine

-

The next day, Victoire pinned a list of names to the board in the servants’ quarters where unpleasant announcements were attached.

She spent the morning in a rotation of brief meetings with certain staff members.  Several generous parcels of coins sat in her desk drawer, and as one maid or under-butler came in, they left with their severance pay, instructions on when and how they should exit the Namaire estate and whether they would be getting a recommendation.  Also, tears.  They often left with tears.

Victore finally pushed her door open to stare down the line of servants sitting in a row of chairs against the wall.

“I have had quite enough of the crying,” Victoire stated coolly. “It is unprofessional and is quickly dissolving any desire I have to impart pay and recommendation letters.  I suggest leaving this moment if you plan on shedding tears in my office.”

The door clicked decisively behind her, shutting out the wide eyes and trembling lips.

Really.  Trembling lips!

It was easier when Sabine was here.  It was easier for Sabine.  She could be the sweet and sympathetic one.  Victoire was the authority, the hammer.  She didn’t mind.

It suited her.

Suitably threatened, the last of the fired maids and manservants passed in and out of her office with dry cheeks.  Afternoon bent back high in the yellow sky before Victoire was finally left alone with her thoughts.  Her office: cozy at about six paces in any direction, with a little worn desk, a velvet tufted chair on her side, and a plain wooden seat on the other.  Neatly organized staff records in her desk drawers, a brand new blotter on the surface, and an elegant mother-of-pearl fountain pen.  A gift.

Victoire pulled open her top drawer.  She was half-startled by the palor of her own slim hand on the mahogany woodwork.  She took out Sabine’s letter.  Outside her half-open window, the stablemasters were discussing the plans for selling the estate’s horses.  Not all of them could go; Precious, Marble Oracle, and Tantivy were all great sources of income as proven studs, and of course the work horses for the estate’s skeleton crew would stay.  But the others would be sold.

Victoire looked back down at the letter.

“Perhaps I will transform back into a fine mare; dun-colored and white-maned with violets in my tail.  I will run and run and leave nothing behind.  I will be flotsam and jetsam on a cold summer breeze.”

There was no reply.

Victoire sighed.  She pulled blank stationery out, and plucked the mother-of-pearl fountain pen from its stand.  She would write to Sabine, and admit a preference for headscarves over hats for the Corvali sun.

After all, she would perhaps miss the girl.  Perhaps.

[byakuyanya-purinsesu]

“Take a Look at Those Vocals.” {feat. @driftingjazzbard}

“Kiss me

Out of the bearded barley

Nightly

Beside the green, green grass…”

In her line of work, it pays to be a romantic.  Unfortunately that does mean getting a little dreamy from time to time..she can’t help it.  And she didn’t think anyone was watching.

“Swing, swing

Swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes

And I will

Wear that dress…”

That’s what she thought. But oh how wrong she turned out to be.

The royals were returning from an excursion to a port town where they could acquire a fortitude of weapons, armor and valuable items. While no set date was in mind, they felt like a big battle would be ahead of them. Whether it be sooner or later, it was best to be prepared. It was on their carriage ride when they caught the sounds of someone singing nearby.

Stopping the horse, they paused for a moment and stepped down onto solid ground, silently agreeing to find out who this voice belonged to… and peeking around from behind a tree after tip-toeing to it in the least conspicuous manner possible, they found its owner.

“Wow, she’s quite the looker huh?”

“And singer as well… here I thought there was only one songstress roaming these lands…”

The whole scene was terribly fairy tale, with Erin all starry eyed and playing her own accompaniment.  She’d have considered it cliche if she knew it was going on at the time.

“Ohhhh

Kiss me

Beneath the milky twilight

Lead me

Out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance

Silver moon’s sparkling”

“So kiss me.”

She was also going to be incredibly embarrassed, likely soon.

As she continued on, the princes found themselves becoming more and more entranced in the song she had to sing… going so far as to bob their heads to the rhythm. After that last lyric came some applause as the dark knight made their presence known.

“Well, I can’t say we know each other to allow such intimacy but thank you for the offer.”

“Ignoring his attempt at flirting, you’re still quite talented… where did you learn your moves? And how to sing like that?”

“Uh hi.  Didn’t someone teach you it’s bad manners to stare at people?”  Or, you know, listen to them daydreaming from behind a tree, allowing them to completely and fully humiliate themselves?

She was more than a little embarrassed but it was a compliment.  They’d liked her singing, which was good, she worked hard at that.

“Er, my big sister taught me, and the man she’d eventually marry taught me how to play some instruments���the rest I sort of picked up here and there.  Who are you, and uh, how long were you watching?”

“Yeah, Leo. That’s rude and intrusive. How dare you do such a thing!” The longer-haired male teased, putting on the most smug face he could muster. His naturally high Skill allowed for a flawless execution of course.

“Yes, well…” Shaking his head and ignoring his Hoshidan counterpart, the blond answered her question while attempting to retain his dignity.

“I’m Prince Leo of Nohr… my less than reputable associate here is Prince Takumi of Hoshido and we were just passing by… no more than a couple of minutes passed when we found you.”

She sort of started to feel bad for the little blonde one, that was some high grade sarcasm he apparently wasn’t equipped to deal with.    And they hadn’t done any harm, nor were they giving her crap for singing love songs behind a bush, so…hey.

“Yeah well…a little warning next time maybe?”

Oh.  Dammit, they were royalty.  Erin, as a habit, avoided royalty.  For a pretty woman traveling alone, such associations tended to end in mysterious disappearances if taken up carelessly.  They didn’t seem like bad sorts, they hadn’t gotten into her personal space or used the song as an invitation.  Even so, she couldn’t help a little wariness.  It was how she was still alive.

“My name is Erin, bard.  It’s a pleasure to meet your Highnesses I’m sure.”

“Erin…” he repeated for clarity, letting the sounds flow out of his mouth and resound in his ears before continuing. “The feeling’s mutual.”

“But we’re not in a castle or anything so don’t sweat the formalities.” Takumi casually remarked with a shrug, waving his hand to motion sweeping the matter aside. “You from around here, Erin?”

…He was young, wasn’t he.  At least the blonde one was.  He talked as if he was listening to himself to check if it was impressive enough.  The other one seemed not to take himself as seriously, or seriously in a less formal way at least.

“I try to err on the side of caution when it comes to royalty, but if you say so.”  Insisting on plain names could be good or it could be really bad.  She stood up, strapping her guitar safely to the enormous pack she traveled with.

“No, I don’t live around here myself.  I’m a traveling bard, you see.  Some bards retell old stories, I occasionally go find some new ones.”

“A bard, huh…” The archer turned to his companion who stood with his arms folded behind his back, giving him a silent nod. Seemed like Takumi would be taking the lead for this little dialogue exchange. Here’s hoping he didn’t muck anything up.

“You’re cautious of us, and I’m sure you have your reasons… but what would you say if we offered you a job to perform not for us but for our people?”

So apparently only one of them could converse at a time?  That was…a little weird.  Or, given the small amount of crap they were giving one another, it was to avoid bickering.  Who knew?

“I’m cautious of most royalty as a rule.  In a lot of places they aren’t very nice, and I’m very pretty and would be easy to disappear.”  Her siblings might miss her eventually, but they wouldn’t know where to start looking for her either.  Better to keep cautious and make sure she didn’t disappear.

Their people?  Like…nations?  “Er…well I’m…not sure I’m good enough for a whole national performance…”

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘national’? It’s not gonna be for a huge gathering of people or anything of that nature. I was talking more like, for a smaller group of soldiers…”

“Quite.” Leo chimed in, hoping to take the pressure off the bard’s shoulders… even if just a tiny bit. “It’d be to build morale. In exchange, you’d be paid for your services of course.”

Well he was the one who said ‘their people’ like that, and they were princes…but soldiers?  Like armies?  She’d wandered into a battleground, hadn’t she?  Dammit.  You’d have thought someone would mention that when she asked for local news, but no it’s all about Margerie running off with some priest and Clint’s cow straying…she loved small towns, but never for long periods of time.

Well…she did do this to help people, soothe their emotions.

“I’d be happy to, just for a meal and a safe place to sleep though.  And perhaps directions away from whatever battlefield you’re headed toward.”

“Sounds like a deal to me. But you’re gonna get paid anyway, and you’re gonna accept it. No ifs or buts about it!” Takumi asserted, crossing his arms and shaking his head to prevent any further argument. Turning around, he saw Leo already holding the door open to the passenger’s carriage and inviting her.

“For today, you ride with us. Let’s go.”

Stubborn, wasn’t he?  Royalty.  There was a reason she typically avoided them.  But he was insisting on paying her which was kind of nice.

“As your highness insists.”  Such a bossy way of having manners.  Apparently the little Prince Charming one was still entranced by her face or something.

She entered the carriage as he’d commanded.  Erin wasn’t a big fan of commands, but she’d agreed to do this and he was raised to it, it wasn’t really his fault.  “So, Hoshido and Nohr have finally cut their decades-spanning pissing match?”

Exchanging glances, the boys blinked; neither having expected the woman to have that kind of vernacular. She wasn’t wrong though.

Straightening himself, the dark knight cleared his throat and tried to answer as best he could without divulging too much. “Suffice it to say… the situation’s changed, and it requires us to cooperate, or else our kingdoms as we know them will succumb to ruin.”

Erin was pretty, but she was fairly crass sometimes.  At least she’d probably divested the little blonde one of his crush.

“I’m pretty sure everyone else in the world was aware of that.  You were always heading toward mutual destruction until someone got the sense to make peace.”  Not to mention all the surrounding nations just thought of them as ridiculous.

“Huh…” While Leo wasn’t the most keen on such speak about his kingdom, Takumi just propped his elbow on his side of the carriage and rested his cheek in his palm, more bemused than anything else.

“Speaks an open mind without fear of consequence… I like this woman. Erin, right? Where do we find more like you?”

“Well…if you were going to do anything to me, we’re in your carriage.  You’d have done it already, presumably.  And I always hear Hoshidens talking about how noble their nobility is, and Nohr has been whispering how their new crop of princes and princesses might put a stop to all the madness going on there.”

She stopped short of mentioning that would have to be after the current source of said madness had died.  She could be crass, but she could never be said to be heartless or insensitive.  Whatever cruelties she’d heard of the current king of Nohr, he was the young prince Leo’s father.

“But yes, Erin is my name, and I have three sisters, but one’s married, one isn’t interested in men, and one’s awful so I’m afraid you’re out of luck there.”

“Strike one, two and three. Guess we’re out.” Takumi answered with a crossing of his arms, childish pout following afterward.

“I think what Prince Takumi was alluding to is someone who’d dare hold such a tone with the likes of royalty such as us. Many in your position who’d rather have their tongues cut out than attempt to talk back to us. Such bravado… it’s commendable and foolhardy at the same time, depending on the circumstance.”

“I’m sure they would.  For a lot of bards, earning a permanent position with someone like you or your companion here would be their ultimate goal, after all, so they’d suck up.  I’m not interested in any kind of court position though.”

It might be foolhardy certainly, but if one of them was romantic enough to come out of the brush after listening to a girl play and try to play the charming prince, he probably wasn’t going to hurt her, and she’d rather have her tongue cut out by one of the men than bow and scrape.

If any of the pair was to be feared, it was the Nohrian royalty after all, given the nation’s reputation, and he was the one who’d gone all romantic.  Easy enough to believe the rumors that the royal children weren’t that bad after hearing that.

“Yes… I’m well aware. It’s… more of an annoyance than anything. Being introduced to many who would do just about everything to earn my favor… either for a seat of power or a hand in marriage. Quite bothersome, really.”

Takumi, being more in tune with the common man than actual royalty blinked incredulously. “Sometimes I don’t think you know just how good we have it…”

“No, no, I can get that.  When you’re in a position like yours, you can’t tell who’s being honest with you or not.  Whether or not someone’s being kind or polite because that’s truly how they are or because they want an in with royalty.  And it sounds like it’d be impossible to find a nice lover, looks are already enough to start people lying about themselves, let alone power and status and such.”

Everyone had problems, and saying someone wasn’t allowed feel bad about the problems their situation brought was just kind of ridiculous.  Yes they were privileged, but their lives weren’t perfect and they shouldn’t be expected to act as such.

“I… guess so.” crossing his arms and humming in thought, he let his body teeter off to the side so that his shoulder would brush up his armrest in the carriage. Peering up and out of the window, he suddenly sat back up and saw that their campgrounds were in sight. With a smile he looked over to their guest and smiled.

“Looks like we’re here… you ready to see what the combination of Hoshido and Nohr can accomplish?”

Frankly if she had to pick a royally cranky guy it’d be Ponytail over there, but she kept that tidbit to herself.  They were alright, and much more…normal than she’d anticipated.  Friendly and open.  It was almost odd.

“I think everyone in the region’s been ready to see that for quite awhile.” The nations had bickered like children for as long as anyone could remember.

Even so seeing an army…well.  For the most part she didn’t do stage fright, but playing for an amassed army was a little intimidating.

[footbaliimagines]

lost in translation (an antoine griezmann imagine)

Summary: Antoine goes to a press conference and things don’t go entirely to plan

She cleared her throat and tapped her foot nervously before sipping from her coffee flask. Press conferences were always boring. Always awkward and uncomfortable with the constant flash of photographers’ cameras, full of repetitive questions and repetitive answers discussing “how exciting the next match was going to be” and the ways in which “international football was developing up in such a brilliant and exciting direction”. Boring, boring, so fucking boring.

When her boss had told her she’d be interpreting for the Antoine Griezmann in a press conference prior to a France v. Portugal international friendly, she’d been ecstatic. Not as an Atletico supporter, or as a football fan in general, but from a purely business-orientated point of view. Interpreting for one of the biggest names in football would do wonders for her (currently minute) clientele, and after getting fired from her last job teaching high school French, after a particularly embarrassing drunken episode at the end of term Christmas party, she was becoming increasingly desperate.

She shuffled the bundle of sheets in front of her and flipped through the pages. Team sheets in case she slipped up on any names, recent results for reference and a list of French and Portuguese idioms she had compiled the night before.

You’d have to be deaf not to notice when he walked in. Photographers and journalists became restless and there was a sudden buzz around the room that hadn’t existed before. “Hi, I’m Antoine. Nice to meet you.” He rattles off, approaching her side, before she gives off a tight-lipped smile, shakes his hand and tells him her name.

“I’m your interpreter for today’s press conference. If you could give me a heads up of the kind of things you might be talking about, so I can plan and make some notes in advance, that’d be great.”

And Antoine proceeds to rattle off a list of things that could and probably will come up, and she eagerly scribbles them down. Boring, logistical stuff mainly. Praise for the Portuguese team, a funny quip about his and Ronaldo’s ever-increasing rivalry, his hopes and aims for the rest of the season, the quashing of certain rumours regarding a move to Manchester…

He was attractive, there was no doubt about it.  But her professionalism would have to take precedence, she reminded herself, unlike that brief stint at her old marketing job which had come to an abrupt end after being caught in the store cupboard in a rather compromising position with the cute young receptionist.

(Jeez, she really did have an issue with keeping a job.)

The press conference began without a hitch. In fact, he was so effortlessly charming and such a freaking media darling that she felt confident enough to say that it was going well. 

Then came the crash. The skid when his chair jerked backwards followed by the thump when he fell to the floor and the grunt he emitted as his forehead smacked the table in front of him

And Jesus Christ, it’s awful and she kind of wants the ground to swallow her whole, because everyone leaps to their feet to assist him and gasps and calls for medical assistance (not overly dramatic at all, she thinks) and she has to turn away to stifle her laughter and cover her face to avoid getting photographed by some nosy journalist.

(Cruel, unsympathetic interpreter LAUGHS at Antoine Griezmann after he falls and injures himself at press conference: Watch the footage of her undignified, inappropriate response HERE.’ She can imagine the tabloid headlines already.)

Maybe it’s a bad habit, maybe it’s a knee jerk reaction or maybe she’s just a horrible, insensitive person, but there is nothing that makes her laugh quite like people falling over, and every time the scene replays in her head she feels like she’s going to suffocate from laughter. The podium where their table is situated suddenly becomes flooded with people and she quickly rushes off to stand on the side lines with her manager.

“Hey, what’s the protocol for this kind of thing?” She asks him.

Antoine is laughing to himself, and shrugging to his agent who’s frantically rubbing his head  and gesturing wildly and insisting to the journalists that he’s okay. “Stop cackling,” Her manager, a big-whizz interpreter who hooked her up with this gig in the first place, shakes his head and fixes her with a glare. “Check if he’s okay! Ask him if he needs a glass of water! Big name clients like him don’t come often and we need you to stay in his good books!” He hisses, edging her back towards Antoine.

“He’s fine! It was just a knock to the head.” She insists, and then picturing the fall in her brain again nearly sets her off all over again. “He’ll brush it off.”

“Go and speak to him.” He says sternly and she rolls her eyes in a stubborn huff.

She glances back up at the podium, where the crowd has dispersed and Antoine’s been taken to the side for a ‘short recess’. He has his back to her and after cursing under her breath, summons up the courage to tap him on the shoulder. “Um, Antoine?”

He turns around and smiles at her, and she can’t tell if she’s imagining the faint pink blush spreading across his cheeks as he stutters out a polite “Hi.”

“Are you okay? After, you know-“

“After the fall?” He cuts her off humorously. “I’m fine, honestly. Nothing bruised but my ego. And maybe my head. I could have a concussion. And potential amnesia.”

“It looked painful.”

He laughs, “It was.”

There’s something about him that lulls her closer. She had spent last night watching a playlist of his interviews on Youtube, in a desperate last-minute attempt to pick up on the intricacies of his accent and become accustomed to his voice.

(It hadn’t taken long.)

And while any sane woman (or man, let’s be honest) could see that he was friendly, attractive and charming, there’s something about standing opposite next to him, face to face, that hadn’t quite been the same through her laptop screen. He’s confident but not arrogant and just so god damn pretty (Seriously, why do guys always have the nicest eyelashes?) and his eyes are almost as blue as his jersey. “So, uh, a concussion?”

He nods humorously, before remarking drily, “I’m pretty sure I’m seeing double.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” She holds up her middle finger jokingly and he bursts out laughing.

“In all my years as a footballer, I’ve never been sworn at by an interpreter.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

“True, true.” He chuckles. “Now, would it be incredibly cheesy to say that happened because I was falling for you?”

She splutters and feels her face grow hot. Because not only is he extremely attractive (even more so up close) but he’s smiling at her with a sparkle in his eyes and the smell of his aftershave is almost sending her under.

Professionalism, is the one word that spins around her brain upon the realisation that she kind of (read: really) fancies him. You need this job.

“It would.” She stutters. “Would be massively inappropriate, is what I’m saying.”

“Ah.” He forces a smile, but it’s clear that he’s slightly disheartened. “Well, I should head back-“

“It would be cheesy, yes. But, uh, I think it was a good joke.”

His face lights up again and she kicks herself internally for not stopping whatever this (him just being friendly, him flirting, her overthinking the entire situation?) is while she still had the chance. But he’s virtually beaming at this point and his eyes are crinkling slightly at the corners and she can’t quite bring herself to shut him out entirely.

(It would be like kicking a puppy, she reasons. By responding I’m just being a nice person. It has nothing to do with me being terrible and unprofessional and flirting with my client. Even she can tell that her justification is pretty shitty.)

“I’m glad you liked it. Was the first thing I thought of as I was cracking my skull open.”

She teases, “God, you’re such a romantic.” 

“I am French, after all.”

“You and your baguettes. And snails. And croissants.”

“Oui, ma belle.”

She’s been listening to him speak French for the past twenty minutes and it hasn’t had the slightest effect on her, but now she’s pretty sure she’s turned as red as her press lanyard and her tongue is lodged in her throat. “Could I, uh, possibly get your number, or email or something?” He stutters, and the difference between his confident flirting before and his broken, nervous question now is remarkable. “Not for like, dodgy reasons or anything. Just because I think you’re a really good, um, interpreter? And I’d like to see you again. To do my press conferences. Nothing weird, of course.”

She narrows her eyes at him teasingly and smiles, putting her hand out expectantly which elicits a “huh?” and a quizzical raise of his eyebrows.

“I need to write my number down somewhere, dummy.”

Antoine clumsily leans in and places his hand on top of hers, marvelling at the sight and the fact that it perfectly envelops her much smaller hand. “I’d be happy to offer my services to you again.” She says with a shy smile and small nod, before her face falls and she covers her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Jesus Christ, that makes me sound like a fucking prostitute.” She whines.

He laughs again and his eyes crinkle up and if she could look at any one view for the rest of her life, she’s pretty sure this would be it.

Soon enough the press conference is resumed (littered with many reiterations of something along the lines of “I feel fine, it was just a small fall, it won’t affect my game”) and the remaining 25 minutes fly by- she’s not whether it’s due to the general quality of the conference improving or the fact that every now and then he throws her a small grin or bumps her knee with his under the table.  

(And she can’t help but think that getting fired from all her previous jobs was kind of a blessing in disguise.)

In the end, the journalists don’t publish or even capture her almost pissing herself laughing while Antoine rubs his head in confusion on the floor of the podium.

For that, she’s incredibly relieved.

Until she sees the cover of the Daily Telegraph the following morning: Interpreter at France National Team press conference seen SWEARING at Antoine Griezmann. 

And in the photograph, she’s stood there, smirking at him sarcastically with her middle finger waving proudly in the air.

Shit.

(Guess she’d be job hunting again.)

A.N.: wanted to write something about Griezmann for so long and v happy I’ve finally got something up!!!! hope you like it, please let me know what you think!! as usual, please have a nosy at my masterlist and send in requests you might have!! <3 xxx