#but I do think I understand the reasoning behind the colour as the previous two were white and holo so maybe they wanted black and holo??

[shyjuns]

i really just don’t understand why they gave it that blue strap like it don’t match at all

[mrsoftthoughts]

Nico di Angelo headcanons

- He was very confused the firts time that someone called him "Emo"

he doesn't have a clue of what the fuck is that, he just bought up the clothes and accessories that he looks at and thinks "cool"

It was a karen who say that btw, the fact that she only was saying nonsense prob was guilty of Nico confusion too

- both Acts of service and Gifs are his way to show affection to others

He often helps his close friends and Hazel with anything they need, he also would get whatever thing that they expressed to want or need even in the slightest way possible, it doesn't matter if it's expensive af or hard to obtain for any reason, he's getting that thing for later wrap it in pretty paper .

He also buys whatever that he sees and reminds him to someone he loves, New rome postal service is tired of getting packages of the pluto ambassador for the praetor Levesque atleats 3 times at week ( that's not all the things that he gets for hazel, it's just the ones that he doesn't give her face to face)

- He's a polyglot ( i kinda talk about it here)

It was a part of his education back in the 1930s so he doesn't remember a lot of how he learned most of the languages he spokes, or even remembers that he actually spoke that especific language until he is in a situation were is needed

Something funny it's that one of the languages he taked longer to realize that he spoke it, it was greek, like, modern greek, he doesn't know how to feel about that

He also has a inherent understanding of dead languages so he's really good at read ol text of any kind

He also it's kinda a nerd about etymology

- He has a lot of beauty marks

Like, a lot of them, the most noticeable ones ofc are the in his face ( one at the bottom/side of his left eye and above the right eyebrow and two at the left side of his nose and bottom of his lips) but those things are everywhere in his body

- A lot of people feels that his appearance seems out of place, like, something ood to look at without an apparent reason

The things starts to make sense when you put his hair back with a bit of gel and give him a suit, then you realize that he looks like one of those pictures of grandpas when they were young

It can be a bit eerily because, in fact , he is actually from the same generation of those grandpas, that's why he looks like them but due the Lotus he's a teenager instead of an old man

the fact that his appearance it's the definition of a haunting beauty contributes to all that, he's beautiful, there's no a sigle appice of doubt about that, but you can compare the feeling that he evokes to the feeling of looking at a gothic church or the one of being at one of those old and Rich graveyards full of angel's scultures but cover in moss after years of abandonment , beautiful and stunning but also imponent and bone freezing

But hey!! It's also cool, and you can say that he's the antitesis of an iphone face

- Kinda related to the previous one, but his eyes are always changing colours.

It's not like piper tough, her eyes are literally a multicolor spectrum, Meanwhile, Nico's are more like his eyes being shallowed by the deep and dark waters full of misery of the styx, deep ebony black but in constant movement and little forms that looks like ice sublimation

Still, sometimes in moment of pure joy or when hes relaxed his natural color is visible, being a mostly brown iris with little details of grey and deep green like the bark or the fruit of olives

- Has a large collection of silly bands ( you know , the 2000s elastic bands with form of anything you can imagine?) think about any collection of those things and he has it

He also knows how to do those bracelets of bands btw, he uses his fingers for it and as a result he always has the strangulation marks or bruces

- He and Drew ended up being friends

He had that little hunch Drew's attitude having more behind that she just being a Bitch without reason, he was totally right

They aren't attached to the hip or something, there's a lot of things about each other that they don't know or they didn't bothered to ask, but they thrusts each other and are close enough to talk about their life and things they feel can't talk with anyone else every once in a while

Nico's is also drew personal manikin/ken doll for her fashion design projects, he isn't complaining tough, all the clothes are stunning

- Other of his friends is Clovis from hypnos cabin

A lot of people doesn't understand how they have a lot of anecdotes about things they did together, because Clovis is always half sleep or straight up in another world or something during the day

The last part is they key, they literally are in other world, or something like that, dream magic has potential to take the phrase "live your dreams" to another level

- Full grown up , He isn't tall or short, he's just (technically )average

He's 5'9... It taked a time for him to grow up to that point though, he was stuck in 5'5 for a while until he was around 17/18yo

Still, he looks a bit short at the side of most people around him, it's not his fault 90% of the people he knows are fucking giraffes

The fact that a lot of the boys he falls for are... Well, pretty tall ( Solace, Torrington, Grace, yk that you're the ones im talking about) isn't helping neither.

- He has a transatlantic accent ( alongside with a slight Italian accent)

Is a result of learning English as a second language and having both american and British people like reference and not something made on purpose

Is almost vanished after being living in America at the XXI century for the past few years, but you can still hear it in the way he say some words and the fact that his idiolect mix indiscriminately British and American words

Btw, something funny of that is that if you let his guy at the Uk for enough he would totally turn into the other side of the coin and now he picked up the accent of the region were he is at the moment

- He has a wii and a DS ( he later got a 3DS when it was released), nobody knows how the fuck is that he isn't chased by monster 24/7 using that thing

He also end up with a insane amount of amibos once they were released in 2014

- For some reason his collections of anything are in those vitrines that the grandmas uses for the pretty dishes

- He got the standar lobe piercing

usually he just have a pair of black diamons studs ( kinda looks like the diamons by the yard earring of Tiffanys) but sometimes he uses a bajoran or a pair of drops

- Even whe he is older his job is basically being his father second had and ambassador, but a general concense is that he is also a really god tourist guide

Probably he would be turned into a god after he passes away for just be doing exactly what he already was doing as a demigod, just with immortality.

-Despite being Italian and the stereotypes, he was a disaster in the kitchen, the kind of person that you say them to boil 2 glasses of water for the rice and the next thing you now is that 2 cristals glases are straight up in the stove

in his defense, he at best can remember see his Nanny doing something or being with her sister and mother doing some kind of dessert ( his only contribution to that was eating the chocolate)

Now he may not be a five stars chef but he can do pretty good stuff sometimes, he's trying

- He can make pretty concerning "old fashioned" coments sometimes

Alright, he is not an asshole ( at least non on purpose) or something like that, but sometimes while talking he would say things that are the daily reminder of the fact that this guy over there is a white ass boy raised in the 30's decade with the addition of being Born in a pretty much wealthy and probably Noble family and who's whole social interaction with other people that aren't hundred of years old beings has been limited,and that leads to his perspective of society being a bubble of privilege and old high society ethics.

Like, the most of the time if he say something really... Questionable, is because he really never has stopped to think about it and he is just saying what they teach him ,was normal at the time, or is just a comment made of pure ignorance mouth-is-fasther-that-the-brain-tipe.

Sadly for him ( and luckily for the rest of the people that have to hear him) 90% of the times hazel is close when he say that kind of stuff and two of Three times he ends up being hit by the closest thing that was at her hand or for one of her shoes if nothing else is available, the other time its a 50/50, he realizes that he just said something that isn't right or hazel just look at him in full deception mode.

[humbledragon669]

S1E5 – The Doomsday Option Write Up P1 - Saturday (The last day of the World) up to "the wiggle on"

Let’s just get stuck straight in with this episode, shall we? Because that’s exactly what the episode itself does – we’re not really given any clues to remember where it is we’re picking up from (and given the way the previous episode’s events were stitched together, that’s a little surprising). So what do we have? Crowley, looking stony faced, driving in his usual fashion. Oh, and the Bentley has chosen to play Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” as he speeds around London’s crowded roads. Maybe there is a little clue there after all. And when things are made more explicit for us, we’re shown that Crowley is trying to reach Aziraphale:

Aside from the fact that the number has been labelled as Aziraphale’s “work” number (which makes me wonder if there’s also a “home” contact somewhere in Crowley’s phone), the picture in the background is one of flames. I’m pretty sure Crowley wouldn’t have done that himself – it’s my thinking that this is foreshadowing for him, so it’s no wonder he’s driving as fast as he possibly can to get to the book shop.

Moving on, to Crowley’s entrance into the bookshop. There are two things I’d like to pick up on from his actual entrance. The first is that we see him miracle the door both open and closed, but for the first time there is no accompanying miracle noise, of any variety. There’s the noise of the bell on the door ringing, but no miracle sound effect. This is perhaps simply because there’s a lot of other noise and music going on at the same time, but it just struck me as odd because it’s different. The other thing I want to pick up on, which is still to do with the soundtrack, is that the Bentley’s choice of music follows Crowley into the bookshop, now playing in an off-kilter way via a warped record on Aziraphale’s gramophone. I think this opens up a really interesting can of worms about the reason behind pieces of music transforming into something else, but I want to give it some proper thought and time so I think I’ll write a dedicated post about it.

Now, the collective heart of the fandom breaks more than a little bit when Crowley storms into the bookshop screaming Aziraphale’s name without considering his own safety, right? How about when, for the first time in the season, refers to Aziraphale as his best friend in an angry tirade of abuse once he realises he’s not there in the shop anymore? The fact that he somehow senses that Aziraphale isn’t there is one thing, but have a little think about this: if it hasn’t already occurred to you, this will be the first time in 6000 years that Crowley has rushed to Aziraphale’s rescue and been too late. That particular gem of understanding came to me as I was writing this, and honestly it destroyed me more than a little bit. Crowley’s ability to sense Aziraphale’s absence however allows him to move straight from denial to anger in the stages of grief, and boy is he pissed.

Right before we go into the opening credits for this episode (is this the shortest opening sequence for the series? It’s less than 2 minutes long!), we see Adam again, and there is no doubt that the Hellish powers that reside within him are taking control. If the glowing red eyes weren’t enough (I’m sure his eyes would have matched Dog’s if he hadn’t already eroded all the evil away from the Hellhound), the colour has all been washed out of this scene. It feels really grey and quite lifeless, in contrast to the bright and natural tones from previous scenes in the same place.

Now, Crowley’s exit from the book shop. As with his entrance, there’s no miracle sound as the doors open or close. Perhaps more importantly, it doesn’t actually look like Crowley does anything to close the doors as he leaves the shop. There’s no clicking of the fingers as we’re used to seeing – those doors close entirely on their own. Forcefully. There’s maybe a slightly forceful shoulder movement that coincides with the doors slamming, but that could just be Crowley’s signature swagger. Food for thought I think, it might be something I’ll look into in a bit more detail when I explore the music stuff I mentioned earlier. And speaking of music, how truly appropriate it is that we’re now treated to Queen’s “Somebody To Love”? Because with Aziraphale gone, Crowley has nobody to love anymore does he? And he is devastated about it. So devastated he takes his glasses off in public (which I think is the only time we ever see this happen).

As an aside, I noticed a couple of frames during this rewatch where the sign above the door of the bookshop is slightly obscured, and you can only really make out the “C” of the “Co”.

I’ve known the sign says “A.Z. Fell and Co” for a while, and wondered what the purpose of the “and Co” part of the title was (because of course we know that there are no other business partners involved in the running of the book shop), but it was only on this rewatch that the penny dropped. Having an “and Co” at the end, if you shorten the title to its component parts, gives you “A and C”. And didn’t I feel like a dumbass when I realised that one. It’s been staring us in the face the whole time, written above the bookshop entrance – a declaration of the partnership. I do not believe it to be a coincidence that the name written on the sheet for the telemarketer later in the episode is Cowwley, providing a further connection to the “and Co” reference. And did you notice the response Crowley gave the firefighter when asked he was the owner of the bookshop?

Do I look like I run a bookshop?

Oh Crowley. He didn’t ask you if you ran it, he asked you if you owned it. More food for thought.

I don’t have a lot to say about the next scene with Shadwell and Madame Tracy, other than to point out that we have another instance of the episode title being referred to within the scene itself – Shadwell refers to himself as “the Doomsday Option”. And although we have a direct reference to the lurid pink whip that he finds buried within the mountain of soft toys (and you have to love the whipcrack sound we hear on exiting this scene to go with this discovery), nothing is ever said about the fluffy pink handcuffs equally hidden in plain sight:

Quick question about Aziraphale’s arrival in Heaven. What’s the issue with his leg? As soon as he tries to walk on it, he calls attention to it in what appears to be pain. Not only did we not see anything happen to his leg in his discorporation scene, but technically he no longer possesses a body and in theory shouldn’t feel pain at all.

Do you remember all the way back in episode 3 when I mentioned that Aziraphale was the only one of the angels to be wearing any sort of colour or pattern, indicating that it was perhaps his own personal touch rather than part of a Heavenly uniform? No? Well, let me refresh your memory:

Well, now that he has arrived in Heaven without his human body or clothing and somewhat against his will, his trademark tartan touches have disappeared. His clothes are all varying shades or white and cream, with no colours or patterns, further strengthening the point I made when I brought it up previously. And regardless of how unwillingly he arrived in Heaven, it appears that his superiors were always adamant that he was going to be turning up – they’ve allocated him a platoon. As much as I know that Aziraphale can be an absolute kickass when he needs to be, the idea of him being in charge of soldiers at war at this point just feels laughable to me. And his confused expression would suggest he feels the same way.

And perhaps the reason Aziraphale was limping towards the dispensing table after his arrival was because he doesn’t seem to know he is no longer in possession of an actual human body?

We’re about to get something we’ve been waiting for for quite a while. Aziraphale has finally come to terms with the fact that he isn’t on one particular side just because that’s where other beings expect him to be.

These couple of lines say so much to me about where Aziraphale’s morality lies at this moment in the timeline. He cannot renounce his angelic nature – it’s what he is after all – but he can reject what other beings believe that nature should consist of. It must hurt him to declare himself a pathetic example of what he is, particularly when he has always prided himself in actually being a very good example of a Heavenly being, of being “Good”. And we as the audience know that his nature is more in keeping with what we would like to believe Heavenly beings would be like – compassionate, caring, and kind. But really it’s Aziraphale’s free will that makes him all of these things – the one thing he told the archangels in the previous episode was something that wasn’t for angels, only for humans.

One last thing about this scene, and I’m sorry (not sorry), but it’s sound related again. There’s a little harp glissando and accompanying noise (two in fact) in the soundtrack to signify that Aziraphale has had an idea. It’s not dissimilar to the noise we hear when he does a miracle. I don’t think there’s anything important about it, I just like to draw attention to the little details sometimes.

What I do think is important is that Aziraphale’s realisation is that the powers of angels and demons are not actually very dissimilar, and may even be the same. It’s not really highlighted too much, but ultimately I think the main difference between the powers that angels and demons have isn’t capability but intent.

I’m going to skip quickly over the next scene in the woods because… well, see, here’s the thing. I don’t like it when things… don’t look right. I know, I know, it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Let me try and phrase it a bit better. The shots of The Them when they either don’t have a mouth or where their smiles are stretched too far for their faces FREAK ME THE FUCK OUT. Like, remember when people had those filters for Snapchat where they switched faces? That was a dreadful time for me. They didn’t look right. So I don’t like this scene in the woods. Let’s move on. Quickly.

Now we all know how much love birds get in this series. Ducks, swans, nightingales, even the occasional lark. Which is why my attention was drawn to the singular bird singing in the background during the scene in Anathema’s bedroom. It stood out to me because it wasn’t that long ago that a tornado was blowing right outside the window, and now you can hear a bird singing (if you listen really carefully). I am no birdsong expert, and I can barely hear it as it is, but if anybody can figure out what kind of bird it is, I’d be interested to know. It might be nothing, just some ambient noise from filming, but birds offer such prominent subtextual meaning in this series I’m not sure. Birdsong aside, the discussion between Anathema and Newt raises an interesting point for discussion around Aziraphale’s perception of humans having free will because it would appear that Anathema doesn’t have any – her entire life is lived by writings put down by a descendant hundreds of years previously. I suppose we could argue that she has free will in her choice to follow her pre-destined destiny instead of fighting it and making her own decisions, but I think it’s pretty clear that Anathema doesn’t feel like she has a choice, and that’s really what’s important.

Alright, let’s go find what Crowley’s up to, shall we? Well first off, he’s just ordering his third bottle of Talisker. Not glass; bottle. Which the landlord appears to be very happy to serve him despite the fact that he is absolutely shitfaced. And that he’s ordering it by the bottle. We see Crowley at his most vulnerable in this scene, only really equalled in the Final 15, but at least here his vulnerability is cushioned with a big cloud of drunkenness. We do learn a few things about Crowley’s fall in his drunken ramblings, not least that he was bored in Heaven. The way he sees it, he just joined up with a couple of the cool kids to ask some questions about his job. There’s actually a little bit of extra dialogue in the script book about this:

They say, hey, Crowley, my man, we’re just on our way to discuss the whole job conditions and career advancements thing.

That’s not quite how Heaven tells their side of the story – according to them it was a rebellion with an accompanying war. I’d quite like to know which side has a more accurate memory of the events. Either way, Crowley’s verbal spewing at this point shows us how genuinely destroyed he is at what happened to him as a result of his questioning. Hearing his voice crack during “sulphur” tears me to pieces every time – it’s genuinely devastating. And the way he says Aziraphale’s name when he sees him “sitting” right across the table from him (his arrival announced with one of those stock miracle noises you’ll notice)? How much joy and hope (and love)? Something you can see mirrored in Aziraphale’s expression in the reflection in Crowley’s glasses.

It's pretty obvious that Aziraphale can’t see Crowley in this scene, which just makes the angst run that little bit higher. But at least they can hear each other, and the first thing the angel says sounds almost like an apology:

I’m afraid I’ve rather made a mess of things.

His next thought, despite being extremely short on time to avert Armageddon at this point, is to determine whether Crowley has left without him or not. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t really want to ask the question, fearful of the answer I suspect, and what it would mean for them. Crowley’s got this handled though: a bit of nonchalance to try to cancel out the grief he’s really feeling.

Good job Aziraphale can’t see his face crumple at that point isn’t it? Can’t do much about the voice thick with tears though. I’m not ashamed to say that I misheard Crowley’s line the first time I watched this scene, and when I listened back I’m not surprised I misheard, because to me “lost” in this line doesn’t sound a million miles away from “love”. Deliberately contentious or not, Aziraphale definitely clocks the use of the phrase “best friend”, and you can see (and hear) how touched he is, because Crowley really can only be talking about him.

The angel deals with this revelation in the only way we Brits know how – by putting on a stiff upper lip, ignoring the sentimentality, and getting down to business (well, he is trying to prevent the end of the World I suppose). Poor Crowley is having a genuinely terrible day at this point isn’t he? First his attempt to rescue Aziraphale failed for the first time in 6000 years and now he has to tell the angel that his beloved book shop is burned down. The expression on his face shows how sorry he is to have give Aziraphale the bad news:

Oh, it’s genuinely awful watching Crowley trying to avoid saying the words that he knows Aziraphale will be destroyed by. Hardly surprising when you consider the look of utter devastation on Aziraphale’s face when he asks if it’s all gone.

Crowley tries to find a positive to balance the negative out with, desperate to satisfy Aziraphale’s pleading, but knows there isn’t one. It takes him three attempts to give a simple “yes” answer. And just as we’re all about to start sobbing uncontrollably at this uncharacteristic display of emotional availability from both the angel and demon, spurred on by the horrible injustice of it all that Aziraphale can’t see Crowley and the world being about to end, the mood is lifted at exactly the right moment by the demon’s uncontrollable joy that he, somewhat miraculously, took the one book that he needed as a “souvenir”.

Happy as Aziraphale is that Crowley has the book, it’s pretty obvious that he wants Crowley to be proud of him for working everything out, but Crowley is so desperate to get to the angel that he misses his prompt. It’s very reassuring for us to see that they settle back into their old dynamic of not really listening to each other, and feeling mutually very comfortable with that, regardless of the pressing circumstances and the painful encounters that they’ve been through together in the last 24 hours.

Can we just take a moment to appreciate that Crowley doesn’t wait to be asked to help Aziraphale, or hesitate to pick up his mantle as knight in shining armour? He tells the angel that “wherever” he is, he’ll go to him. That is one devoted demon right there.

And so we arrive at what I think is probably my favourite exchange in the whole of this season. I’m actually not going to delve deep into this interaction because I don’t really think anybody needs me to spell out the double entendres screaming from the subtext here. I tried, multiple times, to put into writing what exactly it was about this little handful of lines that I love so much, and every time I tried I just felt like I was devaluing the whole thing, so I’m just going to put a GIF here instead and you can watch it on a loop as many times as you like (I certainly have). Obviously, there’s no sound, but if you’re anything like me, you can probably hear the soundtrack in your head anyway.

That feels like a pretty good place to stop for this part to me. As always, questions, comments, discussion, all welcome. See you next time 😊

[arisu-artnfics]

“A trip to Paris” 7

Notes: 

Chapter: 7/12 Previous Next (First). Versión en Español

Also on:     A03 || FF || DeviantArt || Facebook

Chapter 7: “And they talked”  

“Think it’s an akuma?” Sam asked, getting ready to jump into action.

“Could be...” Danny knew that if it was an akuma, he would be allowed to use his powers, but that didn’t mean he was going to transform out in the open. They needed to gather more information before doing something irrational like that. Even if it did seem obvious that the pigeons were the result of one. “Let’s get a closer look.”

They followed the lead of a few fans, hiding behind a nearby bush to watch the birds perform their strangely coordinated aerial manoeuvres. 

After a minute or two, a weird looking man with an even weirder looking whistle–if it had a specific name, they didn’t know it– appeared, flying on top of a ‘plane’ made of pigeons. That was definitely the strangest thing that they had ever seen, and they were from Amity Park! They were used to ghosts attacking the city almost daily, but this had Team Phantom feeling befuddled in a way that they hadn’t been in a long time. 

Danny was just thinking about how he would even start to handle a situation like this, even with his powers, and that he would take ghosts over this any day, when Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared.��

“Wow! They really do look like the statue… but, you know, with colours…” said Jazz, a bit surprised at how well the sculptor had captured the likenesses of the two new heroes.

“Yeah, they do!” said Danny, also recognizing them from the very statue that stood not too far from where they were right now. He pushed aside a branch to get a better look. “Man, I can’t even tell what they’re saying!”

“Oh, right!” said Sam, smacking a hand to her forehead. “You can’t speak French!” Between the three of them, she was the only one who had a chance at understanding what the villain, if they could even call him that, and heroes were saying. 

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Jazz lamented. It was such an obvious thing to overlook! Unless the heroes started speaking English for some reason, they weren’t going to understand a word they said. She mentally crossed ‘become international spies’ off her list of things to do in Paris.

Danny looked around. “Why does everyone else seem to be, like… bored about all this?” he wondered. At least in Amity Park, people actually hid when there was an attack. 

“I don’t know…” said Sam. She had also noticed that most of the fans were just sheltering under park benches to avoid pigeon poop rather than truly hiding, as anyone who looked could easily see them.

“Yeah, it’s… odd,” added Jazz. She was used to people running and screaming as they ducked for cover, dodging ectoblasts and whatever the ghost-of-the-day’s weapon of choice happened to be.

A shout from the heroes drew their attention back to the fight. “Lucky Charm!” called the one they now knew was Ladybug. It was the only English they had heard so far. 

Even though the battle was a fair distance from their hiding place, they could still hear the heroes very clearly. Although that Charm, power, thing was the only thing they had understood so far. At least until Chat Noir screamed “Cataclysm,” or that’s what it sounded like he said, destroying the weird-looking whistle. From the ashes in his hand fluttered a black tinted butterfly. 

Now Danny was very confused. After listening to Marinette and her family explain akumas, he had been pretty sure he knew what to expect, but that hadn’t been anything like what he had imagined. 

As they watched, Ladybug expertly snatched the butterfly from the air with her yo-yo. When she released it again, seconds later, it was as white as new-fallen snow. “Bye bye…” she whispered as it flew away. Then the battle was finished with the cry of “Miraculous Ladybug!” and that same incredible magic that they had seen once before swept over them, cleaning up all the pigeon poop and putting everything back to normal.       

“Okay… please tell me I’m not the only one who didn’t think that’s what an akuma was… right?” asked Danny, voicing his thoughts. “I mean, Marinette said that they were kind of like possessed people… So, like, what just happened?” 

“No idea… no idea… ” murmured Jazz, just as lost as her brother.

“Maybe,” said Sam, “maybe they were possessed by the butterfly…”

“Oh, Ancients! They’re getting away!” said Danny, pointing out the retreating figures of the Parisian heroes as they bounded across the rooftops.

“And everyone’s just going back to what they were doing, as if there wasn’t a superpowered pigeon invasion less than five minutes ago…” Sam added.

“Even the photographer is back at his set,” said Jazz, nodding her head in that direction. “If you can call a fountain and some extra lights a ‘set’”

“It didn’t seem like a very dangerous akuma villain guy,” Danny commented. “Just based on how everyone was acting.”

“Maybe he’s like their version of the Box Ghost,” Sam suggested with a shrug.

“We should probably take their cue and get back to what we were doing too,” Jazz suggested.

As the trio from Amity Park started making their way back to the hotel once again, they nearly collided with another teen that was going in the opposite direction.

“Oops!” said the girl they recognized as Marinette’s friend. Followed by what they assumed was an apology.

“It’s all right,” said Jazz without a second thought, even though she didn’t understand her. She had been the one that was almost run over by Marinette’s friend, much the same way as she had almost been crashed into by Marinette herself not that long ago.  

“Oh, you speak English!” the girl sounded surprised.

Yeah… ” Jazz replied, a little confused. Surely English wasn’t that out of the ordinary, they were pretty close to a big, famous hotel, after all. And some of the locals in the area had spoken English with them already. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, in English this time. “I was looking for my friend instead of watching where I was going. That girl pulled another one of her famous vanishing acts on me.” She shook her head fondly.

“No worries,” Sam said. “We know someone who’s like that, too.” At this she gave Danny a teasing look.

“I suppose there has to be one in every group,” the girl said with a laugh. Then, with a snap of her fingers, she switched to reporter mode. “So, if you guys don’t mind my asking, how long have you been visiting Paris? Did you see the akuma just now? Would you mind being interviewed for my blog?” she asked very enthusiastically, raising her camera phone to the trio of Americans. 

“Umm… ” Danny hummed noncommittally while gently pushing the camera away, kindly rejecting the offer.

“Oh, uh… Sorry,” the girl apologised again, realising that she was probably invading their personal space. “I got a little carried away there for a moment, Marinette says I have a bad habit of doing that. Let me introduce myself, I’m Alya. I run the ‘Ladyblog,’ Paris’s number one source about akumas and heroes, if I do say so myself.” She stepped back to a more socially acceptable distance and showed them her blog, pulled up on her phone in English. She had correctly assumed that their French was lacking. 

After a couple of seconds while they looked through her blog, she asked, “So… Could I get an interview? Or at least a statement? It’s always so interesting to hear what people think of their first akuma.” 

“That’s… wow!” said Jazz, after checking as much as she could without reading ahead of Sam and Danny. They had checked out the Ladyblog before, on Marinette’s suggestion, but to meet the girl who ran it, and to see how much effort and enthusiasm went into it firsthand? That was something else.

“So, how did all this,” Sam made a sweeping gesture toward where the pigeon battle took place, “start?” she asked. She knew firsthand what caused the ghosts to start appearing in Amity, but the situation in Paris was a complete mystery for them.

“You mean the akumas? Or the heroes?” asked Alya, for clarification. As if she wouldn’t tell them the entire history of Ladybug and Cat Noir and their battle against the forces of evil at the drop of a hat. 

“Both,” Danny replied, now curious. Aside from the akumas, Paris seemed like an average big city.

“Right,” said Alya, settling into her role as storyteller, “Actually, they both appeared at the same time– well, same day. The akumas were first though. You see, at the beginning of the school year– I remember it well because it was my first day at a new school, and, well, everyone was in class when it all went down…” she began. 

“Wait,” Sam interrupted. “It happened at your school?” She had thought the girl only knew all this stuff because she was obsessed with the allure of heroism, at least, that’s how it looked on the blog. She was pleasantly surprised to find that they had met someone who had been there since the beginning and not just someone repeating the story for clout and attention.  

“Well, yeah… in a way… I mean, part of it did– Oh, thank you,” she interrupted herself when Jazz handed back her phone. She pocketed it and then continued her story, “Now, where was I?”

“You were telling us about your first day of school here… what happened next? When did the akumas show up?” asked Jazz, already opening up her Notebook to write things down. She wasn’t one to miss a valuable learning opportunity, after all. She knew enough to realise that this whole akuma business had to be a recent thing. Maybe New York had its heroes and villains, but not Paris, at least not until recently.

“Well…” said Alya, thinking back on that day. “Like I said, one moment we were in class, just before lunch break if I am not mistaken– we were just a couple of hours in, you know– and then out of nowhere, one of the other students was a huge rock-like creature!”

“Woah! So one of your classmates just, like, transformed into a rock monster right in the middle of school!” Danny said. “That must have been wild to see!” 

“Well, I didn’t actually see him get akumatized…” Alya corrected him.

“Wait, then how could you tell who it was?” asked Danny. He was a little surprised at that, since nobody has figured out his identity yet and not nearly that fast, not even the ghosts. And he’d transformed in the middle of the school!

“Oh, no, no, no… I learned that after…” Alya shook her head, “Anyway, as I was saying—” 

“Hey, Alya!” a familiar French voice interrupted her, “I’m sorry for disappearing like that!” 

Alya turned around to see her best friend running over to join them “Oh! Hey Marinette! I thought that you were back in the bakery…” she replied, speaking French as well.

“Hello Marinette,” Jazz greeted their new friend with a wave. She spoke English rather than butchering the French language more than she had to.

“Oh! Hi guys!” said Marinette, switching to English when she realised just who Alya was talking to. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there…” She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

“We aren’t invisible, right?” whispered Danny, looking himself and his companions over, just to be sure that they were actually visible.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. What did you just say?” asked Alya, switching back to English as well. 

“Nothing! Nothing.” said Danny, waving his hand dismissively. He didn’t think that anyone except his friends would hear him. Obviously he was wrong, but at least they didn’t understand his whispering.

“Okay…?” said Alya, a bit doubtful, but let it go as it didn’t seem important.

“I’m really sorry you guys, it was rude of us to speak in French in front of you. I didn’t mean to make you feel left out,” Marinette apologised. “I just didn’t expect for you to be talking with Alya… I didn’t realise you knew each other…” She let her sentence trail, an unspoken question in her tone.

“Oh! We don’t… Not really,” Alya explained.

“What? Then what… What were you guys talking about?“ Her eyes lit up in horror, “Oh no! I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important! Did I?” She felt a bit bad for that, she had thought that maybe Alya had already met them but forgot to mention. 

“Oh, no, nothing like that! I almost ran into…” Alya paused, realising that she didn’t know what to call any of them. She turned to the taller girl, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“No worries, I’m Jazz,” she replied with a smile. They had skipped the second half of introductions and jumped straight into interviewing each other, but social conventions were never her family’s strong suit anyway.

“Nice to meet you.” She turned back to Marinette. “I almost ran into Jazz here and, well, noticed that they seemed to be watching the fight, and, well, you know me…” Alya shrugged, she knew Marinette would get exactly what she meant. 

“You just asked them for an interview, didn’t you?” Marinette said, blinking at her friend, unimpressed by her antics.

“Actually, we asked her. She was telling us about what happened in Paris the day the heroes and akumas showed up,” said Sam. She was getting the feeling that they weren’t going to get answers anytime soon. Especially if they kept getting distracted. 

“Oh yeah!” Alya exclaimed, remembering what they were talking about just before Marinette got back. 

In that moment a bright flash of light caught their attention and everyone turned to see what it was. That’s when they all remembered that Adrien was supposed to be having a photoshoot right now. And so he was. Adrien had returned to the park as well and was doing what he did best, being a model. He had been working the whole time they had been talking and the flash was from the photographer taking pictures. 

Sam scoffed and rolled her eyes, unimpressed. He was probably some rich kid whose parents had paid for him to be a model or something.

“Adrien…” Marinette sighed, a bit too dreamily and loud enough for the rest of the group to hear her. That caused some soft laughing from her companions, and Marinette’s mouth clicked shut in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” said Danny apologetically. He had noticed the discomfort coming from his new friend and didn’t want to hurt her feelings or anything like that. 

“Ohhhh!” Marinette lamented, covering her face with her hands. No matter how many times she embarrassed herself, it was never a good feeling.  

“Sorry,” Sam and Jazz echoed Danny’s apology, realising that it hadn’t been very nice of any of them.

“Don’t worry,” said Alya, calming her friend with a hand on her shoulder. “That’s Marinette for you… and that’s Adrien, the teen model of our class.” She nodded toward the photoshoot, confirming the information that they thought they had. 

“He’s in your class…??” asked Danny. He was a bit surprised because he thought that models would need to be privately tutored or something like that so they could learn around their work schedules.

“He is,” Alya confirmed. “And he’s a literal ray of sunshine. Nothing like you would assume from a teen model, honest!” She herself had judged him harshly when they first met and she didn’t want these people to do that too. 

“Sunshine?” asked Jazz. She had never thought of anyone like that before, not even when she was their age. Of course, she had always been mature for her age, so maybe she had just skipped over that developmental phase. 

“That’s our secret nickname for him, to be honest. He is the nicest person that I know,” said Alya, glad that she had gotten to know him better.

“Oh, he is even better than that…” Marinette gushed. “He isn’t just a model, he does fencing, plays piano, speaks English as well as Chinese and a few other languages that he has learned over the years,” she explained, listing off all his talents by heart, counting them out on her fingers.  

“He was homeschooled until this year. Nobody knows how he managed to enrol himself without his dad knowing, but he did. Although that probably is explained by the fact that he was friends with Chloe…” said Alya thoughtfully. It was a bit sad, to be honest, that he only knew friendship in the form of Chloe. 

“Chloe…” growled Marinette. Just thinking about her bully annoyed her. 

“Who’s that? Judging by your reaction, she doesn’t sound like a very nice person,” said Sam. She had a feeling that she knew where this was going, and hoped that she wasn't like Paulina back home.

“Oh, you know… just the Mayor’s daughter, the brat that nobody likes… except maybe Adrien, but that’s because he didn’t have any friends until we arrived in his life,” said Alya matter-of-factly with a small eye roll. 

“Wow, that’s terrible!” said Danny. He couldn’t imagine his life without his friends. Well, he did have an idea, a terrible idea, of what would have happened if he had never met Sam.

“Yeah, you can say that again! He was terrible at making friends at first” said Alya, as a matter of fact once again.

“I did judge him bad as well…” Marinette admitted with more than a little regret for that day, well, that morning. Once she understood him better, she realised that she had been in the wrong and tried to apologise. Although it didn’t quite go to plan as he apologised to her instead, and she fell head over heels in love with him. Something she was still trying to confess to him.

“So… you are all friends now?” Jazz asked curiously. She thought that’s what they were saying, but wanted to make sure. 

“Well, yeah, of course we are! I’m actually dating his best friend, and this clumsy girl here is my BFF, so that makes them friends automatically. Although I bet they would be friends even if that wasn’t the case…” said Alya with a wink at Marinette. She knew that they wouldn’t be friends, but a couple as that’s what the other girl had been working toward for so long now.

“Uh, Right…” said Danny uncertainly as he processed the information.

“So… ” said Marinette, trying to change the topic. “What have you visited since I saw you? You guys said last time that you are here for two weeks, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Danny here needed a holiday and so his family decided to travel all the way to the other side of the world,” said Sam. While that was true, if they had been anybody else, they would have just gone to another state or something. 

“Oh! That’s a bit far for just a holiday…” said Alya. She didn’t doubt their claim, that they were from the US was obvious, or at least she assumed that’s where they were from since they didn’t have the British accent to be from England. She wondered what had brought them this far. 

“Well, let’s just say that if you ever visited Amity Park, then you would understand why it’s necessary…” said Sam. She knew that they were right, it was far, but living over there was full of surprises. And, sure, they could have gone somewhere closer… but, well, with Danny and his powers, they couldn’t risk it.

“Wait… Amity Park?? Like where the ghostly hero is from?? Danny Phantom?? Did you guys know him??” asked Alya, with eyes big and full of surprise. She never thought that she would meet people from there, and so soon after his debut. She had been thinking of ways to conveniently make her way to that small American town, just so she could meet him too. 

“Oh, uh, well…” Danny stammered, caught off guard by the sudden barrage of questions about, well, himself. He hadn’t expected to find a fan of his ghostly alter ego all the way in Paris and he wasn’t in the mood for that kind of interview. He was on vacation after all.

“Alya!” chided Marinette. She didn’t want to annoy her new friends, even if she would only see them whenever they went to the bakery or if they were around the area like today.

“Sorry,” Alya apologised, hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. “It’s just that while akumas and the heroes here are cool… I always thought all heroes are amazing! We went to New York not that long ago… and, well… IT WAS AWESOME!” The grin crept back onto her face, stretching from ear to ear.

“The heroes must have made a really good impression on you then,” said Jazz. She could understand her though. 

“She almost couldn’t believe that she was seeing her heroes over there! Even though some of them don’t have secret identities, we didn’t expect to just see them around. It’s so different over here, we don’t think that Ladybug and Chat Noir would ever share their identities,” said Marinette, remembering the time they saw that the teacher from the American school was the hero that gave her and Chat so much trouble when they had to fight against him and the rest of the American heroes under the akuma’s power.

“Yeah, and it sucks because if we knew who they were, then we could help them! Isn’t that right, Marinette?” said Alya and turned to look directly into Marinette's eyes.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” asked Danny, worried that maybe this girl was getting into trouble trying to figure out who the heroes were. He might need to be careful around her in case she started to look too closely at him.

“Nah! Ladybug would put everything back to normal,” Alya said confidently, “and that is if something happened to me at all.”

This, surprisingly, did little to calm Danny down, so Sam squeezed his hand in hers to reassure him that everything would be okay. She had taken his hand at some point during their conversation out of habit.

“Alya!” Marinette scolded. She was worried about her friend, as she knew very well that she had a terrible tendency of getting into trouble and putting herself in danger when it came to heroes.

“It’s all right Mari, I’m always keeping my distance,” Alya assured her friend. “I promised Ladybug that I’d be careful if I want to keep filming all the battles for my blog.” And, well, she doesn’t like it when an akuma gets her. 

“Wait… I thought you didn’t know who Ladybug is?” asked a very confused Danny. He had thought that they didn’t share their identities. 

“Nah! I wish, but nah. I know how important her secret identity is, you see. She has rescued me a couple of times–” 

“Yeah! Me too!” Marinette added quickly.

“Uhh… and well, once she stopped me from failing from a high place, and, well, that’s when I promised, I mean, It wasn’t my idea of being that high, but the akuma put me up there…” said Alya, as to explain the reason for her promise.

“So, are all the akumas like that pigeon man?” asked Jazz, all business, with pen and notebook in hand.

“Who? Mr. Ramier?” Alya asked, pointing back to where the attack happened to indicate who she was referring to. 

“You know who he was?” Sam was surprised, thinking about how the akuma hadn’t looked much like the man he transformed into, except a certain resemblance in the face, perhaps. 

“Welllllll… he has been an akuma victim so many times, that everyone knows him by now… I feel bad for the guy sometimes, he just wants to feed the pigeons in peace, you know?” said Alya. Most people only knew him as The Most Akumatized Man in Paris, but he was so much more than that. It was sad, if you asked her. “That reminds me, I need to update the number one more time!”

“I feel bad for him too,” Marinette added. “I wish we could do something against the ‘Papillon’ but, well, we aren’t heroes…” she giggled in a way that sounded fake, even to her own ears.

“Yeah…” said Alya, not noticing the fake laugh and continuing as if nothing had happened, “Sadly there’s not much we can do…” She pulled up her blog on her phone to update Mr. Ramier’s page.

“So you guys just, what? Sit and do nothing??” Sam asked incredulously. She was already mentally preparing a motivational speech-slash-civilian combat lesson. Even without the powers there was a bunch of stuff they could do to help, just like she and the rest of Team Phantom did on a regular basis.

“Sam…” Danny warned. They didn’t want to impose the hero life on regular teens, they got the chance to be normal, something Danny didn't have, and he didn't want to take that away from them.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jazz said, “Mmmmm… I see… That makes sense actually.” She didn’t want the Parisians to feel bad for keeping to the sidelines, in fact, sometimes she wished that she could ignore the ghost attacks too, but she wasn’t about to let her little brother fight those by himself. 

“What?” asked Marinette, startled out of her reverie. She had noticed how Sam’s hand never seemed to leave Danny’s and was a bit ashamed that she kind of forgot that Jazz was there. She had just been so quiet that she kind of disappeared. 

“Oh, no, nothing! Just, I can understand why you guys wouldn’t do something so dangerous and it’s better for you to leave it all to Ladybug and Chat Noir. The situation here is very different from what it’s like back home, in Amity Park at least people have the tools to fight back. Most people still just hide and hope for the best, of course, but ghost hunting gear is becoming a lot more common over there, and over here you don’t have that available. From what I gather, especially after reading your blog, I can see that each akuma victim is very different from the others, with unique abilities, and therefore it would be hard to predict any efficient system to fight them. That makes it more difficult for civilians to help, and any that tried would just be put in harm’s way, making things more complicated for the heroes.” Jazz explained. 

Everyone just blinked at her a couple of times, their expressions blank.

Danny and Sam recovered from the impromptu lecture first, fairly used to this sort of thing from Jazz. And while they knew what she was saying, having experienced both ghosts and akumas, or rather, one akuma and hearing the explosions from a second, it looked like the Parisians were struggling to make the comparison. While the kids from Amity Park didn’t have that much to compare to, it seemed like it was more than enough for Jazz to make a connection. It was very clear that ghosts and akumas weren’t the same, but the concept was the same: if something supernatural starts attacking the city, take cover.   

“I guess you are right,” said Marinette, who was the first one to break the silence.

“I suppose you guys are really used to hiding as well, right?” said Alya, understanding what the other teen meant.

“In a way, yeah…” said Sam. Even though they didn’t really hide, but fought. It was just that neither Marinette or Alya needed to know about that.

“Yep!” Danny added with a tight smile and awkward thumbs up, hiding the fact that he was the one who fought the ghosts most of the time. When he ran, it was towards the danger.

“Yeah…” said Marinette, “if we don’t get trapped… or something, I think hiding is the best we can do. I mean, what else is there to do, right?” she continued with a small laugh. It wasn’t even that funny, but she was just glad that it didn’t sound as fake as before. 

“Unfortunately that’s true,” Alya concluded. If things got really dangerous, she tried to take shelter, she needed to be okay to film, after all. 

The conversation lapsed between the teens once again. They hadn’t made it very far from where they started, still standing in the middle of the park between the bench and the fountain. They shuffled their feet awkwardly, unsure of what to say next, unaware that another teen was heading their way. 

With Mr. Pigeon stopped once again, Adrien returned to the park, and, unfortunately, to his photoshoot. Just when he thought that for once, he might get an afternoon off, too. 

His father had told him that after the shoot today, he was free to do as he pleased, so long as he had all his homework done. With that promise in mind, Adrien had rushed home after school and started his homework as soon as possible, finishing just before his bodyguard picked him up for the shoot.

If only the rest of the afternoon had gone so smoothly. 

After they got to the park, they discovered that news of today’s photoshoot location had been leaked and they were swarmed with adoring fans. Normally, he didn’t mind his fans, but they did slow down the photoshoot and today he had been hoping for a short session. He briefly thought about asking the photographer if they could move to a new location, but when he saw his friends, Alya and Marinette, in the crowd, he changed his mind. He knew Marinette wanted to be a fashion designer and how much she loved seeing how things worked behind the scenes. So he forgot his annoyance and set to work as peacefully as he could with an audience.

All that changed when, once again, Mr. Ramier was akumatized into Mr. Pigeon. Adrien used the chaos caused by the fans running for cover from pigeon droppings as an opportunity to escape to a nearby alleyway and transform into Chat Noir. He returned to the park just in time to meet Ladybug. Luckily, he had already been there for the photoshoot, but she had arrived on the scene in remarkably good time. His Lady was just amazing like that. Together they kicked bird butt, just like always, and far too soon Adrien was back at work.

Thankfully some of the fans went home after the akuma attack and he was able to finish his shoot without further trouble. Now that it was over, he decided to find where Marinette and Alya went so he could say ‘hi’ to them, as spending any time with any of his friends was great in his book. Eventually, he spotted them talking with three people he didn’t recognize. Adrien thought it would be a good opportunity to meet some new people, he just hoped that they weren’t fans. He wasn’t willing to deal with that any more today.

Adrien greeted the group in French as he hadn't heard them talking in English.

Everyone jumped in surprise at his seemingly sudden appearance. One of them may have even jumped a bit higher, stayed in the air a fraction of a second longer than normal, but if he had, no one noticed.

Marinette stuttered out a hello, going between French and English, eventually settling on an awkward wave and a nervous smile. 

“They are from Amity Park. You know… America…” Alya said in English as an explanation for Marinette's language mix up.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” said Adrien, switching to English as well, “I saw Marinette and Alya over here and thought I could come say hi… I didn’t realise…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his head. “So what are you all doing over here?” he asked, full of curiosity. He hoped whoever said that curiosity killed the cat was wrong, because he was certainly very curious, and he wasn’t ready to die quite yet. He wondered if these Americans were in trouble, maybe he could help!

“Don’t worry, Marinette over here did the same earlier, when… Alya, was it?” asked Sam. She didn’t have anything against the girl, but she had launched straight into her interview spiel and her introduction had been practically buried by questions. So forgive her for forgetting the other girl’s name, jeez. And really, they should be the ones asking the questions. They needed to find out what was going on in Paris, without Danny having to play superspy.

“Yes, that’s me!” Alya replied. She suddenly remembered just what Marinette had interrupted, “Oh, right!” She was supposed to be asking them questions, or, well, getting answers to the questions, for her blog.

“What?” asked Adrien, lost in the conversation.

“Alya was, uh, about to… interview us about the akuma attack, though I think she changed her questions when she learned that we are from Amity Park… but we distracted her by asking about Paris.” explained Sam. They were in a distraction within a distraction within a distraction, a babushka doll of distractions and she was getting tired of all this. They were supposed to be going back to the hotel to plan for their outing with Tucker.

“Alya!” scolded Marinette. She had already half-forgotten that’s what she had returned to after fighting Mr. Pigeon once again.

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay! I noticed them on my way to your home, and obviously thought that they were witnesses of the akuma, even though it was just Mr. Pigeon,” Alya defended herself. So maybe she didn’t notice them, exactly, but she would prefer to keep that for herself. 

“Don’t remind me!” Adrien groaned, drawing their attention. “I hate when it’s him! Uh, because…his birds make my allergies act up.” he added as an afterthought to distract them from why he was really upset. He almost mentioned how tiresome it can be fighting the same person that many times. 

“Right… Mr. Sunshine here is allergic to feathers. Actually, I don’t remember seeing you and all your sneezing during the attack, where did you go anyway?” asked Alya. 

“Oh, wellll… you know… further…?” the words came out more like a question than a statement. He couldn’t tell the truth after all. 

“You mean back to your car, didn’t you?” Alya teased, with a smile on her face.

“Heh… you got me…” said Adrien, rubbing the back of his neck in a way he hoped made it look like he was embarrassed rather than lying. It wasn’t like he could just say he ran to an alleyway to transform into a superhero, after all.

“I thought ‘Sunshine’ was a secret nickname,” Danny whispered to Jazz and Sam, who only nodded.  

“Anyway, now that the introductions are all done, we should probably go somewhere else and do that interview… You guys are still up to one, right?” said Alya, as if they had said yes from the start and just now they remembered that they were doing one.

Danny shrugged. “I don’t see why not, but I don’t think we have that much to talk about, do we?” He was used to interviews as Phantom, so he was sure whatever Alya wanted wasn't going to be a problem. He just wasn't sure what to say as Fenton, and nothing else. 

“Of course, anything you have to say would help! You guys aren’t from here, that gives me an outside perspective, just like…” Alya gestured to the girl with red hair, trailing off as the name escaped her. Just before the girl could say her name again, it came back to her. “Jazz!” Alya exclaimed, “Just like Jazz said. Sorry, my mind went blank for a second there.”

“It’s okay. Like I said before, I’m Jazz, and these two are my little brother Danny and his girlfriend Sam,” she reintroduced their group for Alya’s and Adrien’s benefit, since Danny and Sam hadn’t given their names earlier and Adrien had joined them later. 

“Some reporter I am,” Alya said with a wry smile, “I completely forgot to ask for all of your names! Well, it’s nice to meet you all, officially.” It was always good and fun to meet new people.

“Nice to meet you all, I’m Adrien by the way,” said Adrien, “Adrien Agreste. I wish I could say something for your blog Alya, but I couldn’t really see much from the car, you know?” he shrugged apologetically. 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Danny, Sam, and Jazz chorused, although they already knew his name thanks to Marinette and Alya.

“Don’t worry Adrien, Danny, Sam and Jazz can help me enough for today,” Alya said while opening her blog on her phone and editing an entry. She had been half doing that the whole time. 

“Wait Alya, you are writing the article now?” asked Marinette. She knew that Alya normally used her laptop to edit her interviews for the ‘Ladyblog’ before posting them.

“Nah, I’m just updating the akumatization number for poor Mr. Pigeon. Did you know that he has already passed the fifty times mark?” she asked casually after checking the post on her blog.  

“WHAT?” they all cried in surprise. Even though Marinette and Adrien knew that it was a possibility, it was still a lot for one person in that short of a time. 

“Well, yeah… he is actually closer to sixty than fifty, to be honest,” replied Alya, as she read what her blog post said. She had long since asked their friend Max to help her set up a program that automatically updated the number of times the same person had been an akuma. It was a great way to get better statistics to possibly see if there was a pattern, and also because people were just curious.   

“Wow! And I felt bad for the guy before,” Sam exclaimed. “You guys said that he mostly just wanted to feed the pigeons in peace, right? What’s so bad about that?” 

“Well, it’s not exactly legal…” Marinette explained, remembering that he had been banned from several parks for it. “I think it’s because it attracts more birds than usual and makes them poop more than normal, considering that most of the time he gets scolded for making a big mess in so many public areas…” 

“Yeah, I think he was even banned from most parks… if not all,” said Adrien, as if he was reading Marinette's mind. 

“Wow…” said Jazz. She thought that was a bit harsh. 

“That bad, huh? Who would have thought,” said Sam, seeing what they were saying. 

“So different from ghosts that’s for sure,” commented Danny. As far as he knew, nobody in Amity Park has been banned from anywhere just because that would bring ghosts or something like that. 

“What do you mean?” asked Alya. 

“Oh, well, I guess, that while ghosts just kind of… appear and do whatever they want, including just fight m– Phantom…” Danny said, quickly correcting himself before he said too much. “Well, here you still have a lot of rules, right?” 

“Danny, Amity still has rules and stuff. Just because they get ignored most of the time doesn’t mean that they don’t exist,” said Sam. She was well aware that they may have broken more than their fair share, especially the ones that say ‘don’t fight the ghosts, report all sightings to local authorities.’    

“Oh! right…” Danny rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, reconsidering what he just said.  

“Okay, I definitely need to know more about what it’s like living with the ghosts! You never said… Do you guys know the ghostly hero? Does he really look like that? Like a teen?” Alya asked in a rush, her curiosity getting the better of her. She just thought it was very interesting, is all. 

Danny shrugged, “I mean, we’ve all seen him at least once… Ghosts like to attack our school for no reason,” he said. ‘Other than fight me,’ he didn’t. “So yeah, I think he really does look like that. Uh, assuming you mean the statue, right?” he asked, once again remembering that there was a giant statue of him holding up the world somewhere in the city. 

“Yeah that.” Alya confirmed. “Have you seen it then?” It was a very curious looking statue. On the day of its inauguration she had dragged Marinette and Nino along with her, and tried to do the same with Adrien –but of course his father hadn't allowed him– to see it. That day she had also started another blog for her new hero, Danny Phantom. 

“The one that's in Amity, yes. The one here… uh, not- not yet?” said Danny. He wasn’t actually planning to go see it, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. 

“You haven’t even thought about it, have you?” asked Alya. She remembered just as Danny said it, that they do have the original statue in their hometown. 

Danny sighed, “No, not, really.” He felt like there wasn’t any use in lying about it. 

“I bet it’s the same as the one that's over there,” said Marinette. She thought coming all the way to Paris to see the same thing that’s back home didn’t sound very fun. There were plenty of things unique to Paris for them to visit already, after all.

“We had assumed so…” Danny responded with a shrug. 

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t they just put it here in the park, with the local heroes. I doubt that they would mind sharing a space, you know?” said Adrien. He certainly didn’t mind at all. He could ask Ladybug how she felt about it later on as Chat, but he felt sure that she would be okay with it too. 

“Yeah…” said Marinette, thoughtfully. It had crossed her mind, but it’s not like she could do anything about it. Maybe the next time she saw Chat, she could talk to him about it.  

“That would be amazing!” said Alya. It would be so nice for her blog if she could take a picture of all the heroes' statues in one place, as that would be much better looking.

“I assumed they would just put it where anyone put their presents from other nations, the city hall or whatever the name is here. Sorry for that,” said Sam.

“If you mean the ‘Hôtel de Ville’ that is an excellent guess, but that isn’t where it is,” commented Alya. They had chosen an odd location to put it, but it certainly was… a location. 

“It isn’t?” asked Adrien, who hadn’t been able to see it yet either. Although if he thought about the couple of times that he’d been to the ‘Hôtel de Ville’ as Chat lately, he would have noticed that, indeed, it wasn’t there. He wished his dad had allowed him to go with Alya back when she tried to drag them to see it, but that wasn't the case. It’s almost as if his father didn’t care about the statue at all.

“Nope,” said Alya, pronouncing the ‘p’ more than necessary. “It’s in the ‘Place de la Concorde’, as having it next to the ‘Luxor Obelisk’ was necessary, for… some reason?” She couldn’t stop thinking about how odd of a choice that had been.  

Tucker had shown Team Phantom a picture of the Paris statue at one point and it did look like it was in a strange place, though it was hard to tell from the angle the photo was taken, but they didn’t know much about it until now.

“Huh, that is an odd place. I think,” said Jazz. She was the one who had looked up the different places around the city that they could go and visit, but now she may need to adjust their schedule and not go see the Obelisk. 

Everyone nodded in agreement.  

The group of teens fell silent, the flow of conversation interrupted. They looked at one another and, through a series of shrugs and gestures, all agreed that maybe it was about time to leave the park. 

They began meandering slowly in the direction of Marinette’s house, as it was the closest, and, well, it was getting late. Nobody would fault the kids from getting some sweets before continuing their conversation upstairs in the cosy living room above the bakery.   

To be continued :D :D

[aeoki]

Dream-Coloured Princes - Chapter 5

Location: Yumenosaki Drama Clubroom Characters: Tomoya, Hokuto, Keito & Wataru

TL Note:

Baku spirits (獏) are supernatural beings that devour dreams and nightmares in Japanese mythology.

Wataru: I shall repay you with a role for making me laugh!

Hokuto-kun, you’ll be the prince of “Trickstar” and Tomoya-kun, you’ll be the prince of “Ra*bits”. Together, you’ll aim to be idols…☆

Tomoya: W-Wait a minute. Prince? Aim to be an idol? I don’t understand!

Do you understand what he’s saying, Hokuto-senpai? It’s not just me that’s confused, right…?

Hokuto: I don’t understand, either. Why would a prince aim to be an idol? Did the princes you meet want to be idols?

Wataru: No, they said they had to defeat “Dream Eaters” and protect their land.

Apparently, they’ll fall asleep for eternity if they’re attacked by them. Like baku spirits[∗], I suppose.

In any case, they were rather skilled with the sword. All that experience acting as the “princess” paid off ☆

Tomoya: A princess… Uuu, I just remembered something awful…

Wataru: Oh? Come to think of it, you admired me and decided to join the Drama Club after seeing my play, correct?

“My goddess”, was it? Hehehe. Shall I crossdress for you? Here is the goddess you’ve always admired. You don’t have to hold your tears back, you know?

Tomoya: I’ll be crying tears of blood instead! Uuu, if I knew the person I admired was a Masked Pervert, I’d never have joined the Drama Club…!

Hokuto: Do you mind if we return to our previous topic? The princes you met came from a world with “Dream Eaters”, right?

Wataru: Yes, they said it was something only they could defeat, so perhaps it's only those with the position of prince that can do that.

Hokuto: Hmm, the princes from the Land of Jewels. And dream eaters… Looks like we can make a play out of that.

It wouldn’t be a problem to remove the idea of the princes wanting to be idols, no?

The president met three princes. We’re a club of three members so the roles are perfect.

I don’t think it’s necessary for me and Tomoya to be the princes of our units, though?

Wataru: If that’s the case, then there wouldn’t be anyone to act as the dream eaters. Well, I don’t mind playing that role.

But I don’t know what they looked like. Even with my skills, I don’t think I’ll be able to pull it off ☆

Yumenosaki Academy is a school that specialises in training idols. Which means making the princes aim to be idols would make it far more interesting!

Well, that’s more or less the reasoning behind it…♪

Hokuto: So I’ll be the prince of “Trickstar” and Tomoya will be the prince of “Ra*bits”.

The president will be the prince of “fine” and we’ll aim to be idols… Is that correct?

Wataru: Quite close~ Of course, I shall stand on stage as the prince of “fine”.

If we include the prince of Gartina, Oliverite and Saphinia, then that would be perfect…☆

Hokuto: That means you’ll be playing four roles? If it was anyone else, I would’ve rejected the idea no matter what.

But you’re not someone who lives by common sense, president – you should be able to pull it off.

Wataru: I thank you for your praises…☆

Hokuto: I did no such thing. No matter. The roles and story… We can use our costumes here, so the problem is where the play will take place.

Tomoya: Yes… We can rent the auditorium but would that be difficult?

Wataru: Well, then let’s ask Mr Right-Hand Man. He should be in the student council room at this time.

Please wait here in the clubroom, you two. If I return late, I don’t mind if you leave and go home.

I shall leave with the wind – To the student council room…☆

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLocation: Student Council Room

Keito: There aren’t any issues with the documents. The application reason is also acceptable. It should be fine for me to give them the stamp of approval.

The other documents I need to look at are… Hm, that was the last one. Now, that’s one thing finished.

…………

Ugh, I blacked out for a second there. Looks like I’m quite sleep deprived. I had to finish student council work late into the evening yesterday too, so no wonder.

In the end, I couldn’t finish it all so I brought them home and managed to complete it all near morning… But I haven’t slept enough. I’ll definitely fall asleep the next time I close my eyes.

I should take a nap. But sleeping in the student council room doesn’t sit right with me. I’ll close my eyes and rest for a while.

…………

Wataru: Amazing! I wonder when was the last time I visited the student council room? Perhaps half a century ago? Ahahahaha, neither I nor Mr Right-Hand Man existed back then.

…Oh?

Keito: …………

Wataru: Hm, I take it this doesn’t mean he has noticed my presence but has chosen to simply ignore me?

If I listen carefully, I can hear him breathing in his sleep. He’s quite defenceless in front of me.

I suppose that goes to show how exhausted he really is. I don’t recommend living fast and recklessly – I don’t want to lose my rival.

I shall sit and sing him a lullaby. Hopefully, he can smile in his dreams instead of frowning.

……~♪

Keito: …Mmm.

(Someone’s singing…? Is someone in the student council room?)

Wataru: Hehehe, you’re awake? Good morning, it’s yours truly, Wataru Hibiki…☆

Keito: Wha!? Why are you here? Were you the one singing just now?

Wataru: Was it to your liking? Then, I shall sing another~☆ Laalalalaa ☆

Keito: No, stop. But wait, I didn’t notice you entering… What a blunder. Sleeping really is important – I must do what I can to ensure I’ve slept the minimum.

Anyway, why did you come to the student council room? Eichi isn’t here, if that’s who you’re looking for.

Wataru: That’s no problem~ I’m here to ask you something.

Actually, because of this and that, I’ve come to the student council room to ask for permission to use the auditorium…☆

Keito: Hey, don’t skip over the details. Explain everything from the beginning.

Wataru: Then, I shall keep it brief. …That’s the gist of it. Have you understood?

Keito: You explained it at break-neck speed… But well, I understand the situation.

So you met the princes of the Land of Jewels while daydreaming and you wish to use the auditorium to put on a play based on your daydream…? 

Sorry, I don’t quite understand. Give me fifteen seconds to think things over.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[peerbear]

Where Currents Meet Reflection on the Final Film

This project was a challenge for me because I was pushing myself out of my comfort zone, but I'm so happy I did this. I know I have an eye and intuition that are good for cinematography, I just need my confidence and then experience to follow suit, but both are of course things that come with time. I feel we worked well as a group and everyone tried their best to get us to where we are now. I believe we made the film we set out to make on our own terms and true to our creative dreams. I hope we have created what Bethany wanted and that she knows she can be proud of the world she has created.

I did my best and I am happy with that and I'm very happy with the shots themselves and how they turned out. I am less happy with the grade, but this again was a learning curve with many things to take away with me.

I feel scenes 1 and 2 at the beach did not turn out quite how I hoped in terms of lighting consistency and colour grading, but as I have previously mentioned this is due to different positions to the sun that were unavoidable due to positioning in relation to the water from a narrative point of view.

I feel scenes 3 and 4 at the bus stop and pavement were both quite different, the lighting in scene 3 at the bus stop was rather cloudy and thus easier to manipulate both on camera and in the edit. The only shot here that I was unhappy with was of Kallie where I feel she is over-saturated and over-contrasted. In scene 4 on the pavement the sunshine was beautiful but there was an inconsistency in sunshine as it kept moving in and out of the clouds, this meant it was not fully consistent when it came to the grade, however here I feel like the grade is letting the image down a little bit because the shots are very pretty, I just couldn't seem to find the right balance and again have a little too much contrast.

Scene 5 in the woods is a little inconsistent in the grade, here again, I am happy with the shots especially the two-shot from behind as they are walking. Sadly as I said the grade is a little inconsistent and has a clear difference in wash and tone to the previous scene and thus has a different style. I feel the grade between shots here does not quite match.

For scene 6 part one at the river and part two at the bridge, I am overall happy with the grade. I feel like the river scene would have benefited more with a two-shot as it would have shown the actors interacting with each other. However, the two-shot that I did as shown above (ungraded) is much lower than and does not match the singles. I had done this with the intention of being the water that they looked into, but this did not edit with the other shots how I thought it would. So I had thought it through but it did not turn out as planned. For part two at the bridge, I am happy with the shots and the edit even though I feel it again shifts in tone with the colour grade in a lighter wash than the rest of the scenes.

For scene 7 in the bedroom, I am pleasantly surprised with how it has turned out, I think in spite of poor lighting the scene is exactly what I hoped for it to be. The grade is far from perfect here but it definitely aids the image a lot.

Scene 8 is my favourite scene and I think it has turned out very beautifully, but I'm afraid the grade is again quite different to the rest of the film, but I feel it is very pretty by itself. I think I missed a shot here in the shot list where there could have been a closer two-shot of the two of them for more of the scene.

Here is an ungraded example of what I mean:

It is a shame that we removed the final part of scene 8 even though I understand this choice was made for its reasons which is very valid as one of the leads was too cold and could barely hide it, this is where we removed both actresses from the water and brought them home to warm up. This was for their safety and would have felt unethical otherwise. I do understand the decision, but feel it greatly affects the film losing this scene.

Overall I wish there would have been more of the two shots because I like seeing them in frame together and how they respond to each other. I understand that this was a conscientious choice due to both creative and necessity reasons where there were issues with some of the two-shots. I personally prefer the two-shots, and I think it would have greatly improved the film overall if these had been usable in the final edit.

I appreciated working with the team of Where Currents Meet and I feel on set we really came together when we needed each other and I felt we were all supporting each other.

Here is my headshot for the project. I appear much more confident than I felt, but I have definitely gained some confidence from this project that I will be taking forward from here.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Thank you so so much for your reply, you’re not overstepping at all and I really value your opinion in this so thank you so much for even taking the time to read about it 🩷

I’m so sorry about your situation with your ex, and I’m so thankful it hasn’t gotten to that stage, I hope it never will, but I don’t feel I should stick around that long to know the answer to that.

My boyfriend can be quite verbally abusive when he’s intoxicated, he doesn’t think it’s bad because it’s only little things, like him telling me to “fuck off” and things but those things really hurt me. I’m constantly looking after him like a child when he’s had a drink and it gets really boring for me because it stops me from enjoying myself. I remember this one time he’d been really awful to me and he woke up the next day and said “well I wouldn’t have treated you like that for no reason”, and I actually did think it was my fault he acted out, it was so clearly the alcohol.

I know that I must leave this man, I know that I’m never ever going to have children with him simply because I don’t want my children to have him as a father. He doesn’t believe in gender equality- he believes that women should not be firefighters/sportspeople (quite rogue examples but just based on previous conversations we’ve had). I do not want my future daughters to grow up with a dad who doesn’t believe in them. Maybe it’s because i had the complete opposite, I’m so lucky that my dad is such an amazing partner to my mum and all I want is a love like theirs.

My boyfriend tells me not to wear bright colours because I suit more neutral tones. He once told me to change from a skirt that I really loved (it was a denim midi skirt) because he hated it, but I really loved it, I don’t think I’ve worn it since then.

He isn’t happy that I’m not looking forward to moving back home next year because like I said the choice wasn’t mine, it was his. I’m moving home so that we can be together, but I’m 21 years old and I don’t think it’s wrong of me to say that I don’t want to settle down right now? He says I’m pathetic and I need to stop whining about leaving my friends behind, “because normal life isn’t about seeing your friends 24/7, it’s about having a job” but why the hell can normal life not be about seeing the people you love 24/7? I’m 21 years old, im not focusing on the career I’m gonna have for the next 40 years right now and I feel like that’s fine?

Like I say there are tonnes and tonnes of other examples I could use for reasons that I don’t think we should be together, but for some reason I always see the good. I understand that relationships are about compromise and I understand that everyone has their flaws, but surely that doesn’t mean you should stand by somebody who is always making you second guess yourself?

Anywayyyy, sorry for the vent lol, and feel free to read none of that and carry on with your day! You’re a really great person and thank you again for your reply to the first message, it means so much :)

You’re 21 years old? Baby, leave this man and walk away! He wants you to move back at 21? Tbh life IS about seeing people that you love 24/7. Has he considered that maybe he’s not normal? Lmao. And even if it weren’t. Who cares what’s normal and what’s not. If it makes you happy, and it doesn’t cause harm to anyone, then you should have every right to do whatever you want. If getting settled at this point in your life is not something that you’re interested in doing then don’t. Your 20s are formative years of your life. You shouldn’t spend them catering to someone who’s incapable of seeing you as an equal.

There’s so much out there for you to live and experience. With people who love you and support your goals, not impose their own onto you. And yeah, of course, in any relationship, there is going to be compromise. But it’s a two-way street. You ending up with an intoxicated partner to deal with every time he decides to have a drink, and you having to move to be with him doesn’t sound like he’s compromising on much in return. Besides, do we really wanna compromise with someone who doesn’t see women as equals and therefore deserving of equal freedom and respect?

Leaving is always hard. Especially when partners who don’t respect their loved ones as equals will have you believing that you need them somehow that you’re worse off without them. You’re not. Your life can only improve from here. Even if you’re alone, at least you won’t have negative associations with items of clothing that had previously felt good to you just cuz he’s inconsiderate and won’t let you express yourself with what you wear.

I’m not gonna say “there’s someone else out there” and all those cliches cuz I know they mean very little rn. I’m not even sure if there are any good men left out there lmaooo. But I will say that you’re infinitely better off without him. Whether you find someone else or remain single. He has no right to speak to you harshly or verbally abuse you. It’s NOT the alcohol, love. It’s him. Drinking just brings out that side of him. It’s always there though. Whether drunk or sober. Let him go, hun. You deserve better, I promise. Even if it doesn’t feel like it at the moment. 💗

[photography-in-london-27]

Week Five - Exhibition Analysis

Daniel Meadows’ 50th anniversary of the free photo omnibus

What is the artist trying to do/show/say with this work? 

I believe the artist is looking to capture a moment of change in societal history. There is something human about the images, for more reasons than humans behind the subjects. Further enforcing the theme of change, the caption under the photograph of the girl with the ‘streakers’ hat explains that only two of Meadow’s 50 public displays remain after half a century. There’s something profound about that fact.

What techniques is the artist using to convey this message?

Portrait – The four images I selected are all portraits. Similar to 'Portrait of George Gisze, 1532, Hans Holbein the Younger', it is the surrounding environment that defines these portraits. 

Black & White - While the clowns in one image feel as though they should have colour, black and white removes distracting colours to reveal a less emotional, more factual message.

Do you consider these “good” photographs? Why / why not and what are your criteria?

I would consider these good photographs. For me, it’s not the individual photographs, but rather the series as a whole. Meadows consistently captures the same human, rebellious and profound message using a consistent technique. For me, a photo series can’t be good without a clearly defined uniting theme. Not to mention, I thought Meadows made some pretty high-quality of the photos for a darkroom on wheels. 

Do they convey the artist’s intended message? (How does your answer to this question relate to your answer to the previous question?)

I think they do. The consistency in theme combines with the previously mentioned technical aspects to believe one clear message despite the uniqueness of each photograph. 

What is the effect of seeing several of the images together as a series? 

When I saw the photograph of the girl with the ‘streakers’ hat, I figured, this is probably related to gender. She’s wearing a pin of a woman, and her face sends a message of confidence clearly geared towards sending a strong message. However, the photograph with two boys of a different race told me there’s a bigger message. Holding hands, these lads are friends –less common during the 1970s. Separating these photos would make the image more about one specific historical issue rather than change as a whole. 

How does the written information change your understanding of the photographs?

Initially, I thought that all the people were part of the same movement. As if to say. Meadows had parked himself outside of an event and shot pictures of people with similarly revolutionizing values. However, the written information shows a much more random set of subjects for these portraits. Since Meadows travelled across England he shot nearly 1000 different people from 22 different villages, towns and cities. For me, this makes the series more profound. Whether it’s race, gender, or politics-related, there’s something universal about how the subjects make me feel – especially since they come from different backgrounds.

[magpie-trinkets]

Hi and congratulations on day 100!! Very late but very congratulations!!!!!!!

Ahem. Let's begin this analysis of the frames by remembering the previous frame, the one where we discovered the presence of the Creepy Kid.

Here's the zoom-in for that moment. She appears in the background, very far away and dim in the darkness, blending with the crowd. The reasons as to why she's here are yet unknown, as are her motivations and plans. Let's not forget she pushed Grosky off the boat. She seems to be observing the Detragan up close, or maybe Melina's photograph.

As the scene progresses the camera pans away from that corner¹ to focus more on the Object illuminated by the light. As the camera pans to the right, the crowd (as shown in the frame) start to run away, compelled by an unknown motivation. Are they running away from the puzzle? I understand. Their expressions show frowns and scowls, so the reason as to their sudden movement isn't positive. They feel... desperate.

Then the shot changes to show us our protagonists, who aren't running away. On the background, the object looms. Luke is holding a notepad², a small book decorated with gold details and letters (illegible). He holds a pen with his right hand and writes, concentrated. The cap of the pen is tucked into his ear, and it appears to be blue in colour. Could that be an indication that the ink of his pen is also blue?

Meanwhile, the Layton-shaped Object performs a "Thinking Pose", with his right hand on his mouth, fingers curled in a loose fist, his index finger and thumb making contact with the lips. His stupid little dot eyes are frowny, and he seems to be looking at nothing in particular, lost in thought. It seems he has taken in the challenge of the puzzle, he LOVES puzzles³.

Jenis seems to be looking at Luke, though it could be possible she's lost in thought too. Her eyebrows are ticked upwards, in a saddened/concerned expression. She isn't touching her pendant nor her ponytail.

It does look like both Luke and the Layton-shaped Object are trying to think the puzzle through, as they usually do as the main duo of the series.

Eventually Luke stops writing and turns to address the Layton-shaped Object. Judging by the posture of his shoulders and back, he seems to be fired-up, incensed, tense. Angry, or determined? Excited at having found a possible solution? The Layton-shaped Object has stopped thinking to listen to Luke, and Jenis is looking concerned at the professor. Without Luke's facial expressions it's hard to parse out the true meaning behind this interaction.

The Layton-shaped Object turns to address Jenis. He is smiling, and he seems calm. It's difficult to say if Jenis is smiling or not, because from far away it does seem that way, but if you look closely her mouth is not performing any usual smiling motions. In all this time, the Puzzle 001 Object has seem some movement. The sheet has moved a bit down, increasing the space between the paper and the two dots.

It's a very tiny difference, but it's there. This shows that the machine is working by itself, and has been doing so for a while.

In its first appearance (pictured above), there were no dots, and the paper has moved considerably. There's no one to operate this machine in sight, and yet it works, dragging the paper down into the base of the macine. Could it be the source of some type of music?⁴

As for the final frame, the one originally reblogged, the scene changes drastically from the darkened theatre to the well-lit lobby. Remember the big fucking skeleton?⁵ Well it's back. The midsection of some kind of gigantic animal, probably aquatic, stands tall over the Crown Petone theatre. I have questions as to why a skeleton (and stone tablets with primitive drawings) are present in this Opera Theatre turned Boat, but it sure is a decorative element. There are people studying the skeleton with interest. Behind them stands a small statue of a full body carved in marble or other white material, of a fully clothed, slim figure of indeterminate gender. They seem to be wearing a crown, with would align with the theme and mark them as a royal, either real or fictional. The statue adds to the palatial ambience, the sophisticated, expensive atmosphere of luxury establishment for the elite and the invited archaeology professors.

There isn't much more to see at the moment, apart from the checkered golden floor, the white and red walls and the huge wooden door.

We have yet to see Emmy in any shape of form. I still hold out hope she's somewhere in this movie. I mean, she was driving the car for a while through the country side, and she did take in the entrance, but she didn't enter, not that we saw. But we also didn't see Grosky enter and there he was. I don't know what to think. Is she in the boat or is she waiting, very confused, at the coast?

¹. The Creepy Kid only appears for one frame (reference number HED 99), which makes her harder to spot in a normal viewing, as our eyes would be looking at the brighter Object and the bigger audience members.

². Could he be using the notes fuction that every puzzle provides to doodle while you think, or to make increasingly pixelated calculations?

³. See the entire Layton game series for further reference.

⁴. In some previous tags I pointed out the passing similarity between book music and this machine, in which a sheet of cardboard is fed into an organ with holes punched through. Although not the same, could it be a similar concept?

⁵. I haven't forgotten about any of the skeletons shown in this movie. I am still puzzled by them. GET IT. PUZZLED. Oh my God I didn't even plan that pun. It just came out like a jumpscare.

[lilygreyham]

Fundamentals 1: Week 8

26th April

In this week's class we were given a homework task to recreate two drawings of our own choice on Illustrator. The previous post showed the first piece which was a silhouette-style drawing but we then had to choose a second piece that had colour and more specifically some elements of shading. I wanted to challenge myself and make sure I wasn't choosing a drawing that was too simple as the silhouette one was quite easy to do. While I had still had the theme of plants in mind I decided to use this illustration for my second piece.

Already I could see that I'll needed to be really organised with my layers as the pot and some leaves have multiple layers of colour but I was also confident in my abilities to execute this well. Due to the amount of colours layered on top of each other to create the shading on the illustration I realised that I'll also need to use my Pathfinder palette quite frequently. Luckily I got to use that a bit for the previous work. The first thing I need to do is draw the illustration on a piece of paper and map out where the shading outlines are, here's how it turned out:

It was a fairly simple drawing to do which was a good start. I mapped out the shading outlines with a dotted line to avoid confusion with the actual outlines of the illustration. By this point I felt like it would've been difficult to draw on the anchor points and handles on top of my drawing as there are so many lines in the drawing which also wasn't on a very large scale, so I decided to skip that step. The next thing I did was take a photo of the the drawing and transfer it on to Illustrator. I set the opacity to a low level where I could see just enough of the referencing drawing to follow as a guide. I decided that I should draw all of the outlines first before getting into the colour. The first/easiest part of the drawing was the pot.

The pot wasn't too complicated as it only involved a few shapes which were easy to draw. The only tricky part of the pot was making sure that each side of the pot was symmetrical. I also realise now that I could've used other tools on Illustrator to make it symmetrical but I think I also enjoy the imperfect side of drawings so I was happy with how it looked. I think I'm pretty much just going in the order of what is the easiest/ simplest part to do firs then going up in levels of complication. The next thing on my list was the stalk in the middle of the plant. This was fairly straight forward but I realised I will have to either have seperate sections of the stalk or have the full shape and make sure that I have it in the background behind the leaf that is seen in front of it. I decided to keep the two halves of it as seperate shapes.

The last major step for the outlines was the do the leaves! This was actually quite fun until I reached the top half where I felt a bit confused on how I would draw the leaf that is underneath the other three leaves. For the meantime (for some reason) I decided to just simply draw the lines and when it comes to adding the colour later on I will be able to close the shape and have a better understanding on how the fill and layering will work.

So here's my completed outlined plant! Pretty happy with how it looks and I'm excited to start getting the colour on it. The only lines I didn't do were the shading lines, I think what I'll do is fill the whole shapes and then draw the shade outline while using my pathfinder to cut out the sections that I need. The first thing I did was fill the stalk in black and I also selected the stalk-ish parts of the leaves (lines in the middle) and increased the stroke size to make them look a little bolder than the rest.

The first section to get coloured was the pot, as I felt more comfortable starting with this for some reason. I selected the outline and used the eyedropper tool to get the same colour as the pot from the original photo and quickly realised that the whole area would be this colour. But, this won't be a problem as I can use layering to make sure that the colours for the inside of the pot are simply positioned on top of the colour for the base of the pot.

Above are images of how I created the shadow on the pot by using the Pathfinder tool. You can see that my layers palette is growing already because I make sure that each seperate piece on this pot has its own layer (by using copies of the original pot layer), this makes it so much easier to rearrange them in the correct order. The next part was a bit hard to wrap my head around which was the inside and rim of the pot. I had to readjust my shapes that I created in order to get the colour fill into the right places as I was a bit lazy the first time around.

Once I had that sorted out I went and used the eyedropper to get the first two colours on for the rim and for the inside of the pot. I realised that trying to use pathfinder to cut into a shape with all of the different colours/ sections showing was actually a bit confusing so I get rid of the rim colour so I could focus on creating the shadow inside the pot first which you can see below.

Once the shadow was looking good on the inside I placed the rim colour back on and the pot started to look a lot more like a pot. Was actually really excited about how good this was looking already and that I was feeling confident with the tools that I needed to use in different parts of this whole process.

I did notice that I was actually missing a little highlight on the right side of the pot and felt it was necessary to add in so that I could have the complete look. Below you can see the process of using Pathfinder again to cut out the desired shape and then positioning that layer appropriately so that it shows on top of the pot.

Now that I felt like the pot was done, I moved onto the leaves. The first few were super easy, using the eyedropper to get the right colours and just making sure there was no black stroke after adding the colours. Below you can see that I've reached the leaf that I was not in the mood for, as I needed to add a shade - but to be honest by now I've realised that its not actually that hard.

The first thing I did was turn off the leaves outline layer and the stalk layer so that I could just focus on this shape alone (the original hand drawn art is on low capacity in the background for tracing). Below you can see my process as I closed up the shape by just drawing straight lines where I knew the leaf was going to be covered by the leaves in front of it. I used Pathfinder to cut out my shape and added the darker colour in.

Once i was happy with that I turned the leaves and stalk layers back on and continued filling in the top two leaves with the appropriate colours.

Although it looked finished I zoomed in and checked all the details to make sure everything looked tidy. I then noticed that a few black lines from the background leaf (seen below) were overlapping onto the front leaf. In order to fix this I just used the eraser tool on the selected lines as I felt that because it was such a fine detail that I shouldn't worry too much and just erase the small bumps with a simple tool.

The last thing that I wanted to do was go back to the pot and add the concrete-like texture which I noticed is in the original image. I liked the look of it and felt it would make my illustration look more complete. This process was pretty simple, I used the eyedropper tool again to get the right colours and roughly followed where the dots went and what sizes they were when putting them onto my pot.

So that's it. I've finished! The two images below quickly show that the comparison is almost identical which I'm really proud of. My illustration is on the left with the reference image on the right. Looking at it now I realised that I missed one little piece of shading on one of the bottom leaves BUT I am so happy with how it looks that I'm not entirely bothered by it.

Although I put off this homework task for a bit too long I actually really enjoyed doing it and having the freedom to choose my own images to work on - I think that made me become a lot more invested in the outcome and making sure I understand the processes inside an out in order to do a good job. This task as well as the silhouette task both gave me a lot of confidence in being able to recreate an illustration in Illustrator. Even if it is a simple trace of an outline, I'm glad I can use that skill to fall back on if I need it and hopefully it can encourage me to improve my art skills so that I don't always need to trace images. This task also helped me find the fun in design. I currently see design as homework and lectures and assignments so having this opportunity to create something fun and interesting is encouraging me to try do more of these little illustrations in my own time. It would definitely help me refine my skills as I am about to move into branding in the second semester so I feel that having some confidence in my design skills will make a huge difference. Looking forward to making more fun illustrations in the very near future!

[iwadori]

are you going to do a 'when the haikyuu boys make you insecure' part with Iwaizumi / could I request that?

When they make you insecure part 6 (Iwaizumi,Matsukawa)

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

Word Count: 2.8K

Genre: Angst, Fluff

masterlist

AN: Did I embedd myself in this story? Yes, yes i did. :3 (it’s only a small part dw loool)

Iwaizumi

One day when you were walking to the gym to go see your boyfriend  

You overhear him and the team talking about some instagram girl

“She’s hot” you hear Boktuo yell doing a hoot as he fawns over a picture, with the rest of the guys agreeing.  

“What do you think Iwaizumi?” Hinata ask  

“She’s cute... I guess?” the rest of the guys, grunt in disagreement at Iwa’s lack of drooling over the girl.

“Well I see why you wouldn’t want her Haji-kun,” says Atsumu “you are into the more simple girls bro”

“Simple?” Iwaizumi questions, and the rest of the guys agree

“Yeah simple, you know Y/N... she’s simple” says one of the guys, with the word ‘simple’ rolling off their tounge with a tone of disgust.

“I guess your right guys...” Iwaizumi says “Y/N is pretty basic and simple but-”

You leave the gym before you hear what the rest of them had to say. When you got to your house you bolt straight to the mirror, you look at your outfit and frown. You never thought your style was ‘basic,’ to be fair you wouldn’t describe anybodys style as basic or simple. Of course, you weren’t like those instagram influencers, that wasn’t your thing. But Iwa has known that about you for years... but I guess that’s not what he truly likes.

You go to your closet and take out all the contents, just tossing all your clothes (even some of your favourite items ever) and dashing them in a black trash bag putting them to the side. You were already on a mission to buy a whole new wardrobe, going through all different stores and looking on pinterest for inspo.

You didn’t really talk to Iwa for the rest of the week, since you wanted him to see you in your ‘new form,’ you weren’t being radiosilent but you didn’t initiate any hang outs with him or face time calls (which he did find slightly odd, but didn’t think that much by it.)

Finally, the clothes came and you were kind of shocked at how much you ordered you spent over £200 on clothes from all different places. When you were trying them on, you liked some of them the ones that were kind of similar to your past style but not so ‘simple,’ the others you kind of frowned at since it definitely didn’t feel like ‘you’ at all. ‘This is for Iwa,’ you reminded yourself as your forced a smile on your face analysing yourself in the mirror.

You had everything sorted, your wardrobe was now changed and done the colours and styles you once wore before is now the complete opposite. You invited Iwa over, hesistantly waiting to see how would he react.  

When you hear your door knock, you rush over to open it and model a pose you saw one of those girl do trying to look as natural as possible.

“Hey babe ho-” he says, with his eyes widening seeing your new look “Woah Y/N!”

“Hey Haji..come in!” you exclaim with a beaming smile pulling him inside to the couch. “So, are we going to continue watching the crown, I watched the previous episode and god prince phillip is such a dick.”

You look over your shoulder and see Iwa still standing in your entranceway a bit awkwardly, looking a bit stunned. “Come sit down then, we’ve got an episode to watch.”

“uh oh yeah, sure” he says blinking, following you to the couch.

You got through atleast 4 episodes together, you barely talked as you were really engrossed in the show. Iwa was barely paying attention, he was too busy questioning how you were acting. This definitely wasn’t the girl he knew, even the way you were acting whilst watch the show was odd. The way you’d cutely giggle and ‘sublty’ look over to him whilst laughing at a funny part of the show instead of just doing your usual obnoxious laugh that he loved to hear.

“Oh Y/N, I’m going to go to the bathroom.” he says standing up, you don’t reply you just wave your hand in acknowledgement.

On his way to the bathroom, Iwa nearly trips on a black bag left outside your bedroom door. He opens it, and mildly gasped when he saw all your old stuff jumbled up in there. He picks up the back and goes straight back to the living room and stands in front of you.

“Haji, what are you doing you’re blocking the TV” you complaining trying to see what’s happening behind him.

He drops the black bag infront of you and you internally curse yourself for not moving. You stare at him waiting for him to say something.

“Well whats this then.” he says looking down at you, almost like a disapproving dad.

“Clothes.” you say smartly, knowing what he was asking.

“You know what I meant Y/N, why are all your clothes in a garbage bag.”  

“Because I wanted to put them there,” you wanted to seem as nochalant about it as possible as if putting all your clothes in a garbage bag doesn’t make you feel sad.

“Yeah but why?” he says sitting down next to you.

“Just because I wanted to” you reiterate “what else do you want me to say?”

“Well this isn’t like you, its just a bit random Y/N” he says

“I know this isnt like me you” you spat, standing up “Isn’t this what you wanted anyways.” You head to your bedroom picking up the bag with you, with Iwa hot on your heels.

“What do you mean this is what I wanted?” he says in disbelief “When did I ever say that?”

“It doesn’t matter” you mumble, you start to aggressively take our your old clothes and shove them back into your wardrobe whilst Iwa is just talking. You’re not really listening to him your just putting the clothes back.

“Y/N Stop!” he yells kind of knocking you out of your ‘trance,’ “what is going on with you?” he grabs you hands and pulls them down stopping you from what you were doing and he winced at seeing your tear stricken face.

He gently pulls you into his arms sitting you both on your bed, waiting for you to speak. “I don’t know what you want from me Iwa..” you start your voice slightly breaking “it’s just I did this all for you and you don’t even appreciate it.”

“I don’t know what you mean Y/N?” he says sounding genuinely confused.

“Y/N is simple and basic.” you say repeating words that you heard your boyfriend say about you, you feel him tense as you say it and you slowly get out of his hug.

“Y/N I-”

“That really hurt Hajime, I know now that I'm not your ‘type’ but I-”

“No Y/N, you are my type of course you are!” he says gulping in nervousness “I love you, and your style. I’ve always being enamored by how you dress and present yourself and I don’t know why I even said you’re basic and simple I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Really?” you say sniffling looking down

“Yes really you idiot,” he says lifting your head up “To be fair I don’t care what you wear, since you look great in anthing I just want you to be happy Y/N and especially not dress for anyone including me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree slightly nodding your head.

“Good, so can we go and finish the crown and then burn all these clothes?” Iwa jokes as he stands up.

“Burn them!” you exclaim “These cost £200, you muppet.”

“£200! Gosh Y/N, next time you go shopping im definitely coming with you.” he says shaking his head “can’t have you blowing out your bank account for clothes you don’t even like that much.”

You spend the rest of the day finishing of The Crown and you and Iwa eventually both sort out your wardrobe. Your style and aethetic changes a lot more through the times you were together and Iwa was very supportive and helpful of every single change. Especially *insert your favourite dress aesthetic here.*

Matsukawa

You were walking with your friends; Iwa, Tooru, Maki and your boyfriend Matsun. Walking to school as you did every morning, today the topic of conversation was Tooru’s bad taste in women.

“Gosh yesterday was horrible, she didn’t want to talk to me at all,” he complained “all she wanted to do was to come straight to my place, I didn’t even have the chance to tell her my hair routine.”

“That’s why you don’t find dates off of Tinder shittykawa” grunted Iwaizumi

“Well I know that now!” he exclaimed.

“Y/N,” said Makki grasping your attention “Would you ever use Tinder?”

“Well I-”

“Of course she wouldn’t” your boyfriend interrupted wrapping his arm round your shoulder “she’s got me”

“Yeah, but if you two weren’t together, would you use it.”

“Well may-”  

“Y/N definitely wouldn’t” he said interrupting you AGAIN “she’s way to frigid for that shit”

Frigid? You thought to yourself, ouch. Their was a quick awkward silence and all you could hear was Matsukawa laughing with the others laughing after awkwardly in pursuit. After sensing your uncomfortability (is that a word?) Oikawa decides to change the subject to make things less awkward,

“I need a woman who understands me!” he rants “One that can listen to me and appreciate my awesome hair.”

“Goodluck with that Shittykawa.”  

Oikawa rambles on as you walk to school with the other guys chiming in. You on the other hand, were lost in thought. Your sex life wasn’t something you would want to publicly talk about let alone to you and your boyfriends' male friends. Also, with Matsun describing you as ‘frigid’ struck a nerve. You weren’t frigid, well at least to you, you weren’t.  

When you got to school you immediately rushed straight to your lesson claiming that you teacher really needed to talk to you. Which was odd to Matsukawa as you usually all hung around each other until the bell rang, the other boys gave each other knowing looks all assuming the reasons for your odd behaviour.

At lunch time, you stayed in your class instead of going up to the roof where you and your friends usually end up. In the class room you hear one of the girls in your class, Empress having one of her usual gossip conversations with her group of friends.

“Hajime is so hot!” she said, fanning her face being dramatic  

“Of course he is! You should totally go for him.” her friend said and the rest of the friends agreed.

“What do you think Y/N?” she says to you catching your attention “you’re close friends with him right?”

“Yeah, I am” you say a bit sadly “You should definitely go for him, I think you’d be perfect together.”

“Okay! I think I might later” she says smiling. Her and friends leave, but then Empress returns and walks straight to you.

“Are you alright doll?” she asks softly smiling

“I guess so..” you say hesitantly “It’s just something my boyfriend said to me this morning.”

“Matsun?” she asks and you nod in reply “What did he say?”

After you rehash the situation from this morning Empress scowls in annoyance, “Boys can be such pigs sometimes, such a dick thing to say.”

“I know right!” you respond “Even if I was frigid, which im totally not it’s not even a bad thing nor is it something to reveal to people in public in a ‘jokey’ way.”

“Yeah!” she agrees “I think you should go and give him a piece of your mind.”

“I mean...” your voice falters, when it comes to Matsun you’ve never really given him a ‘piece of your mind,’ even when he makes jokes that you’re not so fond of.

“Come on!” she encourages “I’ll come with you and cheer you on.”

“You just want to come to see Iwa Empress” you say pointedly “But fine let’s go.”

You both power walk to the roof where you see the four seijoh boys sitting down and eating. “Oh hi Y/N/-chan and look Iwa its Emp-chan... isn’t that a surprise!” Iwa blushes and the rest of the guys laugh.

You walk straight up to Matsun and stand right infront of him. “Matsukawa I need to talk to you,” you say folding your arms. “Why whats up babe?” he says, still sitting down with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Alone.” you say turning around walking to a secluded spot. Behind you, you hear Matsun get up and the rest of the boys saying “oooh Matsukawa your in trouble” as they laugh.

“What’s wrong with you today Y/N?” he asks slightly accusatorily.  

“I didn’t appreciate the comment you made today on the way to school,” you say with your arms folded.

“Oh that little comment about you being frigid, come on it was just a joke I wasn’t being serious.” he says lightly laughing but he stops once he sees the glare you give him ”you knew it was a joke right?”

“Matsun, some are your jokes just aren’t funny,” you say “especially when they're about me and our sex life in front of our friends too.”

“Y/N I didn’t mea-”

“You just come off as a huge dick sometimes, and I can’t do this anymore if you keep on making these comments anymore I don’t think I can do this.”

“Woah Y/N, are you threatening to break up with me?” he asks “Over a few little comments?”

“These aren’t a few little comments, sometimes what you say is just unnecessary and rude.”

“Okay well...”

“Well...” you repeat staring at him waiting for to apologise or atleast say something, “fuck you Matsukawa.”

You storm away and walk bout to the group saying “Empress lets go.” She jumps of Iwa’s lap and waves by to them following you back down to the school. You walk into the bathroom and just start to cry, “Y/N whats wrong?” Empress says pulling you into a hug  

“H-He doesn’t care,” you cry “He pretty much excused his stupid comments, passing them off as little ‘jokes,’ that didn’t apparently mean anything.”

“Oh dear,” Empress says consoling you “he’s not worth your time right now.”

“B-but but I love him.” you wail fat tears streaming down your face.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” she says letting go of the hug “so what do you wanna do about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say “I don’t want to break up with him or anything, but is there a point in staying if he’s just going to make these comments again.”

“I don’t know Y/N, but whatever you wanna do I’ll support. Wether it’s keying his car or reading shitty fanfiction and crying.” Empress says making you laugh.

The final bell rings and now it's time to go home, of course you don’t walk with the guys so you just enjoy your own company walking home.

“Y/N! Y/N!” you hear from behind you and of course the only person it can be is Matsukawa.

“What do you want?” you mumbled  

“I..I want too” he says heaving out of breath from the running he had to do “I want to apologise. I need do.”

“Okay...” you respond

“Im sorry, Im so so sorry,” he says “those jokes and comments were stupid and I agree I can be a dick sometimes. Well a lot of the time, but I never wanted to be a dick to you.”

“Well you were.”

“I know I was, and I’m so sorry. There’s no excuse what I said and what I have said before I just hope I can make it up to you.”

“Okay then.”

“So are we not broken up?”

“No we’re not broken up, but it’ll take a lot of making up to do for me to fully forgive you.”

“Great! And I'll spend every day to get you to forgive me.”

Which he did, he spent every day showering you with love and affection. He was way better than he was before, you even went on double dates with Oikawa and his flavour of the week and triple dates with Iwa and his girlfriend. Matsukawa, although he still made jokes, he never targeted them and centered them around you in an insulting way.

AN: I didn’t really like the matsukawa one since i couldn’t really write for him properyl sooo sorry bout that one kids.

[harley-sunday]

Fight for Your Right (to a party shirt)

Daniel Ricciardo once said: “Alright, so, you know it when you see it. You know, some people will wear, they call it, "Party Shirt," but it's not, it's like an old, Hawaiian dad shirt or something. Whether the buttons are too big, or the flowers just aren't the right flower, I don't know. So, you just know it when you see it. But when you see a good party shirt, it's magical. I’ve always got a party shirt. You gotta be merry, they could be an occasion. They don’t have to be as crazy as this one. They come in all shapes, sizes, colours, creations, but yeah, I uh, I certainly do have a collection of party shirts. I’m guilty for that.” 

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x reader (F)

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 3.3k

AN: No thoughts, head empty, just Dan and his party shirt. Enjoy.

“I’m gonna go grab another beer,” you tell your best friend, who just shakes her head and points to her ear to let you know she hasn’t heard you over the loud music that has been playing all night. Maybe if you weren’t four beers in already you’d worry about someone filing a noise complaint but then again, you don’t live here and so it’s really not your problem if they do. You’re on the other side of the city, somewhere in the outskirts of Wooroloo, although in all honesty all of Wooroloo is nothing more but an outskirt of Perth, and despite the closest neighbour living at least one k away you’re sure they’re able to enjoy the thumping bass as far as inside their living room it’s so loud.

The reason you’re here, in the middle of nowhere, is a party hosted by your best friend’s brother’s girlfriend’s brother. Or something like that, anyway. Not that it matters. What matters is that your beer is empty and so you try again, a little louder this time, “Gonna go grab a beer!”

Jess, still dancing, shakes her head.

You can’t help but laugh and hold up your empty beer bottle, pointing at it as you mouth, “Right back.”

Finally she nods in understanding and dismisses you with a wave of her hand before she turns around and starts jumping up and down to the chorus of Chumbawamba’s ‘Tubthumping’ with some people you’ve been introduced to earlier but you don’t remember the names of anymore. Dodging other groups of laughing and dancing people you make your way towards the house, to where a drinking station has been set up. There’s a variety of liquor and mixers on the kitchen counter and the fridge is filled to the brim with bottles of beer. You’re not sure who’s on restocking duty, but whoever it is they’re doing a terrific job because not once during your previous four beer-runs have you seen the fridge even halfway empty. 

Taking two beers, one for Jess just in case she wants a refill, you turn around and head back outside, finding your best friend exactly where you left her. You hand her the beer and it’s then the guy behind what is supposed to be the DJ booth, but instead is just a garden table with a laptop connected to some speakers on top, announces that he’s gonna start the eighties hour of power, which is met by loud cheers from pretty much everyone. You have to hand it to him, the guy, Jocko you think he’s called, knows his classics and knows how to crowd-please, Joan Jett’s ‘I Love Rock and Roll’ now blasting through the speakers and, like so many times before this night, you can’t help but sing along at the top of your lungs. 

=X=X=

It’s when you and Jess are in the middle of a very aggressive rendition of the Beastie Boys’ ‘Fight For Your Right’ that you feel someone tapping your shoulder and so you turn around even though you don’t stop whatever it is you’re doing. ‘Cause it sure isn’t singing or rapping. Screaming, most likely. You’re a little surprised to find a guy you don’t recognize standing behind you and become even more confused when you see the way he’s absolutely beaming at you. 

He doesn’t say anything, just keeps smiling at you, and so you raise an eyebrow at him, not sure what it is he wants from you until he steps aside and, like a magician, holds out his arms to reveal what, you’re not exactly sure. But then, then, another guy steps into view, his smile even brighter than the first guy, and you can feel your eyes grow wide when you see what he’s wearing.

As if on cue the song fades out and so they can actually hear you when you blurt out, “No way!”

Guy number two just nods, “I know, right? What are the fuckin’ odds?”  

You just stare at him in disbelief, shaking your head and trying not to smile when finally you say, “Well, one of us is gonna have to go change.”

He lets out a honking laugh, drawing the attention of the people around you and slowly more and more heads turn your way. “I’m not taking this off, babe,” he says with a grin, a defiant look in his eyes, “this is my party shirt.”

“No. No, no, this is my party shirt,” you challenge, folding your arms in front of your chest in a way that you hope will let him know you won’t back down that easily and to emphasise your point you throw him a wink, “babe.” 

The staredown that follows lasts at least a few seconds, with you biting your lip to keep from laughing and him still looking at you with a spark in his eyes as if this is the best thing that has happened all night. It allows you to really look at him and you’d be lying if you say he wasn’t attractive. He looks like a cheeky schoolboy, standing there with that stupid, shit-eating grin, but there’s something about the way he’s built that makes you think he might be an athlete, his tan arms and legs muscular but slim and you sort of want to know what he looks like underneath all those clothes. Rock hard abs probably, you muse, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. He has a good head of hair too, you realise once you’ve let your eyes wander over his face, and, blame it on the almost five beers you’ve had, but you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have him on top of you, your hands running through his curls and-

It’s then the music is cut off completely and Jocko’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, “Looks like we got ourselves a standoff, people.” He nods towards where the two of you are standing, everyone now turning your way and you think you hear Jess whisper a quiet, “Oh, shit.”

“One of them is gonna have to take it off,” Jocko says and there are a few loud cheers coming from people who seem to agree with him. 

“There’s only one way to settle this,” an unfamiliar voice pipes up from next to Jocko and when you look over to your right you see the guy who introduced you to your party shirt twin a few moments earlier has now found his way behind the DJ booth as well. He scans the crowd with that same beaming smile he had when he came up to you and screams, “Beer pong!”

The crowd whoops and cheers in response and before you even have time to protest two guys carrying another garden table make their way to the front and start to set up a game of beer pong with an efficiency that’s almost scary. 

Jocko waves you over then and you shake your head to let him know this isn’t really a good idea, but all around you people are starting to cheer you on and then Jess pushes you forward and you mutter a quiet, “Fine, fuck it,” not bothering to see if the guy is following you or not.

He is.

Jocko motions for you two to stand on either side of him and then brings his finger to his lips to silence the crowd who are all watching intently. He points to your opponent then, “Tell the people who you are, what you do, and why you deserve to win, my friend.”

“I’m Daniel, thirty-three years of age” the guy says without missing a beat, “I drive fast cars for a living, and I deserve to win because-” he leans forward then and throws you a wink, “-I’m not wearing anything underneath this shirt.”

The crowd roars but you just laugh back at him, “And what makes you think I am?”

Daniel’s eyes widen in shock just a little but enough to let you know you’ve thrown him off ever so slightly, which you plan to use to your full advantage. 

Jocko turns to you then and nods to let you know it’s your turn. You clear your throat and introduce yourself before you tell them, “I fly planes for a living-” you risk a quick glance to your right and see Daniel’s eyes widen even further before he nods appreciatively, “- and I deserve to win because I didn’t come here to fuck around.”

“Alright, rules are simple,” Jocko says, more to the crowd than to you. “You hit your shot, your oponent drinks and-” he draws out before he hushes the crowd with a finger to his lips, waiting before they’ve settled down before he continues, “has to undo a button!”

=X=X=

“Jesus, you suck at this,” you tell Daniel from across the table when he misses yet another throw, leaving your six cups untouched while you’ve already made him empty three of his. 

“Just need some warming up, babe,” he counters with a grin, laughing then when you miss your shot too. “Was I too distracting?”

“Nah, babe,” you tell him, the banter between you flowing effortlessly ever since this whole thing started. You roll your shoulders in an effort to loosen up your muscles some more, “Just trying to not make you look like too much of a loser.” 

Something changes in his demeanour then and he plants his feet a little wider apart, looking more determined than ever to get a ball in, even closing one eye to get his aim right. Still he misses and you can hear him mutter a quiet, “Fuck.” 

“Oh no,” you pout, teasing him as you line up your next shot, “it’s ok, baby. I’m sure you have other talents.”

“Make your next shot and maybe I’ll show you,” he says with a wink.

You laugh at his innuendo and throw the ping pong ball, landing it into his fourth cup with ease, “Don’t make any promises you can’t keep, Daniel.” 

The crowd surrounding the table cheers him on as he shots his beer, laughing when he makes a face once he’s emptied the cup. He runs the back of his hand over his mouth and looks at you as he opens the fourth button of his shirt, only two remaining now. You can’t help but stare at his tanned chest and he snaps his fingers to get your attention, shaking his head as he points two fingers at you before he turns them at his face, “Eyes up here, sweetheart.” 

You grin and take a step back, simply holding out your hands in front of you to show him the six still full cups on the table and watch him as he once again lines up for his next shot. This time he does make it and the crowd around you goes wild, a few guys slapping his back and shoulders. You shrug and take the cup, fishing out the ping pong ball before you down the drink in one go, throwing him a wink when you toss the cup aside and you undo the first button of your shirt. When you arrived at the party, Jess tied the lower part of the shirt around your waist in an attempt to make it appear a little less baggy and so you only have three more buttons to go before it gets critical but still you’re confident you’ll have beaten him before that happens. 

=X=X=

Of course you spoke entirely too soon because you missed the next three shots in rapid succession while Daniel nailed his, giving you a taste of your own medicine when he tells you it’s ok and not to worry about it. And so here you are, a few minutes later, three drinks in, and only one button away from where it’s tied, silently thanking whatever god there may be that you decided to wear your new lacy black bra tonight and not the skin-coloured one you usually have on under your uniform. 

“Come on, babe,” Daniel teases, his eyes locking on yours even though you’ve already seen him glance down your shirt a couple of times already, “show me what you got.”

Taking a deep breath you raise your arm and aim at the cup on the right, which is a bit closer to you than the one in the far left corner of the table. When you throw the ball you are certain you’ve missed completely but by some sort of miracle it lands in the other cup and so Daniel has to take another shot and undo another button. You raise your eyebrows at him, “You were saying?”

“Nothing,” he says once he finishes his drink. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.” 

He must have finally found his groove because he makes the next shot as well and so you finish your second-to-last beer, now tied with him in what the crowd thinks is the most epic game of beer pong they’ve ever seen. They’re quiet now, watching the both of you intently, and you can’t help but feel the pressure as you undo the final button.   

“You got this,” your best friend says from somewhere beside you  just as you get ready to release the ball from your hand and it throws you off just enough that you miss your next shot. 

“Fuck yeah!” Daniel pumps one fist in the air as if he’s already won and blows you a kiss, “You are so going down.” 

You just look at him and watch as he picks up another ping pong ball, lines up his shot, and moves his arm back, ready to throw. It’s at that exact moment you undo the knot that ties your shirt together and let it fall open while you lean forward ever so slightly, giving him a perfect view of the swell of your breasts inside your bra. As if in slow motion you see Daniel’s mouth fall open just as he makes his throw, too shocked by what you just did to properly throw the ball and so it lands somewhere in the middle of the table before it rolls off into the grass rather unceremoniously. 

“Ha! Sucker!” You stick out your tongue at him and high five some of the people on your left. 

“That is so not fair,” Daniel exclaims, looking around him to see if anyone will back him up, “right?” He looks at Jocko then, “Tell me that wasn’t an unfair advantage, mate. I should get a do over.”

Jocko just shrugs, “I don’t see the problem, bud.”

“Oh, come on!” Daniel throws his hands in the air and turns his back at you to see if maybe anyone behind him will agree with him. 

No one does and so you try to make the most of this temporary distraction by taking a few deep breaths, knowing that it’s now or never. Not in the least because all the beer you’ve drank so far is starting to go to your head and you can feel yourself on the tipping point between tipsy and drunk, knowing that once you’ve tipped over to the drunk side you’ll never make another shot again. You wait until Daniel turns back around again so you can continue the game but he’s arguing with someone over the rules of beer pong and whether distracting your opponent is or isn’t allowed and so you snap your fingers to get his attention.

When he doesn’t hear you, or pretends he doesn’t, you retort to calling his name, over and over again, each time a little louder than before, “Daniel. Dan? Dan! Daniel! Oi!” Still he doesn’t listen and you turn to the crowd on your right, “Anyone know his full name?” 

Some guy nods and when he’s told you he looks at you expectantly, no doubt wanting to find out what’s going to happen next.  

You take another deep breath and then use what your friends like to call your ‘mom-voice’ even though you are definitely not a mom and only ever use it when they’re drunk and you try to get them all home safe. “Daniel Joseph Ricciardo!”

He turns around instantly, looking absolutely horrified, muttering a quiet, “Jesus Christ, you’re scary when you do that.”  

“Stop whining and let’s get on with it,” you tell him as you show him the ball you’re holding. “We’ve got a game to finish.”

He stares at you for a few seconds but then seems to regroup and waves his hand at you, “You’re already half-naked, babe. I think we can safely say I’ve won, nah?”

You don’t say anything and instead just throw the ball you were holding while you keep looking at him, blowing him a kiss for good measure. It’s a bold move and you know it and so time seems to actually slow down, each tenth of a second that passes feeling like a minute, but then you hear the sweet sound of a ping pong ball landing in a red solo cup that’s filled with beer. The crowd all around you goes absolutely crazy and even though you try to play it cool, as if you knew you were going to make the shot all along, you can’t help but join the celebrations, hugging Jess as both of you jump up and down to celebrate your win. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jocko says then, grabbing a hold of you and lifting your right arm in the air just as MGMT’s ‘Kids’ starts playing. “We have a winner!”

=X=X=

Daniel finds you in the crowd not much later, his shirt now hanging wide open, and holds out his arms to you for a hug, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you say as you step closer to him, letting him throw his arms around you as you sneak yours under his shirt and around his waist, because fuck it. He’s all muscle you find out then, his abs as rock hard as you thought they’d be and yet there’s a softness to him that makes you want to never let go. Instead you simply say, “Told you I didn’t come to fuck around.”

He chuckles as his cheek brushes against yours, his warm breath hitting just below your ear when he whispers, “I think it’s only fair if I show you some of my other talents now.”

“Don’t make any promises you can’t keep, Ricciardo,” you remind him. 

“Not if you’ll let me kiss you.”

You smile even though he can’t see you, “How could I resist?”

He pulls back a little, his hands now cupping your face and so you slide your hands from his back to his sides and over his abs to his chest, where you rest your fingertips against his pecs. When he looks at you he raises one eyebrow, silently asking for permission, before he looks at the crowd that’s still around you.

You shrug as if to say, fuck ‘em, because most of them have gone back to dancing and drinking anyway. You don’t miss the way his eyes light up when you do. 

He lowers his head and finds your mouth with ease, his nose bumping against your cheek as he lets his lips brush against yours, his kiss soft and gentle at first. His lips are surprisingly soft and you swear you taste a hint of Australian Gold’s kiwi lime lipbalm when you run your tongue over them. 

He opens his mouth then and Jesus, you’re gonna need something to hold onto because you can feel your knees starting to go a little weak. You find the collar of his shirt and pull him closer to you just in time, because your tongue finds his then and it’s all teeth and tongue from there on out. When, after a while,  he takes your lower lips between his teeth and gently pulls on it you let out an involuntary moan, chasing his mouth with yours when he lets go. 

You think you hear someone shouting something about getting a room then and it makes Daniel pull back a little, a mischievous look in his eyes, “Maybe we should, eh?” 

He’s panting, trying to catch his breath, his voice’s a little rough and God, does it make you feel good, knowing you’re the one responsible for all that. 

You grin at him, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods and gives you a quick kiss before he puts his mouth to your ear again, his voice low and full of promises, “You didn’t come to fuck around and well,” he drops his voice even further, “-kissing isn’t the only thing I’m talented at, babe.”

[heyyyharry]

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

.

.

.

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

.

.

.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lesson 16

Masterlist

Previous part

It’s finally here! The long awaited Lesson 16! Please enjoy, my lovelies!

MC had gone back in time, they didn’t think their year as an exchange student would end up like this, but yet, there they were. They sprinted up the stairs to the attic and burst through the door.

Their heart was in their throat as they made their way down the hallway and peaked through the door.

“MC?”

Belphegor, safe and sound, got up from the bed and rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“A lot of stuff… um…” MC tapped their foot and shifted anxiously. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

MC slammed their palm into the door and slowly wrapped their fingers around the bars as they felt the remnants of Lucifer’s spell coil its way up their arm. The spell had weakened with time, and Lucifer must have neglected to reinforce it.

They gritted their teeth and countered with their own magic, but MC could feel their strength being drained. Their vision blurred ever so slightly as something else countered Lucifer’s magic. It was warm and calming, as if someone had pressed a kiss to MC’s forehead and told them everything was going to be okay.

The door let out a metallic screech as it wrestled against the spell, begging to be opened. Until finally, blue sparks erupted from the door and slowly fizzled out. The door slowly creaked open as the warm energy faded.

Belphie took a tentative step forward, when met with no resistance, he stepped into the hallway. Free at last.

MC stood in silence, fatigue washing over them. That was… exhausting.

“You did it.” Belphie beamed at MC, who looked up and returned the smile.

“I… I did!” MC squeaked, looking at the broken attic door in wonder.

Belphie laughed at their starry eyed expression and held out his arms for a hug. “Nice job, MC.”

MC threw themselves into his arms and let out a laugh of pure joy at their achievement. They had broken a spell put down by their father. They had done it! All by themselves! He was going to be so proud of them! Well, after Belphie and him made up of course.

“You know,” Belphie whispered as he wrapped his arms around MC. “I wonder how long it’s been…”

“Hm?” MC felt Belphie shift slightly in their arms, a new material rested against their face. MC opened their eyes and looked up.

“How many thousands of years it’s been since I’ve held something so human in my arms.”

Belphegor was in his demon form, curved horns jutting out of the side of his head, a tail lazily swishing behind him. He smiled as he looked down at MC.

“What are you-”

MC was cut off by a hand wrapping around their throat as they were yanked upwards. They let out a scream as they immediately shifted into their own demon form, their wings flapping, desperately trying to push Belphegor back.

MC’s hands clawed at the hand wrapped around their neck and slammed their feet into his chest. Their escape attempts were put to a halt as Belphegor slammed MC into the hallway wall, painfully pinning MC’s frantically flapping wings.

Their vision swam as the base of their skull connected with the wall, their ears rang and tears began to prick at the corners of their eyes. Thinking fast, MC tried to sink their rapidly sharpening teeth into Belphegor’s arm but his grip on their neck was holding their head straight.

They were going to die-

They were going to die-

They didn’t want to die-

They couldn’t just die like this!

——

Belphegor almost rolled his eyes as he watched MC panic and thrash. He could feel their pulse race beneath his fingers.

A demon’s life or death adrenaline kicking in was no joke, Belphegor knew that. But this kid- this little brat wasn’t even a full demon.

Belphie’s face contorted into a scowl as he let his magic seep through his hands, he soon felt MC’s pulse slow and clarity return to their vision.

——

MC’s kicks and scratches slowed and black spots danced across their vision as their gaze settled on Belphegor.

Every ounce of energy that MC could have mustered was sapped out of them, every single breath they managed to choke out took a massive amount of effort.

“There we go,” Belphegor smiled, his head lolling to the side. “Was that so hard, MC?”

MC let out a low growl, then a whimper when the grip on their throat tightened.

“Now now,” Belphegor sighed. “You’re in no position to get snappy with me, are you?”

MC didn’t respond.

“You know, half breed? If you’re tricked by a demon, you truly have your own stupidity and naivety to blame.” Belphegor continued. “You wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re half human. Humans are notoriously easy to trick.”

MC gripped the hand holding their neck even tighter, digging their nails into his wrist.

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is. Are you even Lucifer’s child? Your wings say so, but your ability to fight back leaves something to be desired.”

The insult caused MC to slam their foot into Belphegor’s ribcage, he grimaced, but his grip held firm.

“It’s just so ridiculously pitiful, MC.” Belphie said. “Any real demon would be able to fight back from this easy peasy.”

Belphegor snickered and used his free hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. He was barely half awake and MC was still completely at his mercy.

“So sad… sad indeed.”

“Wh-why?” MC barely managed to whisper, Belphie rolled his eyes.

“I swear, does anyone in this house tell you anything?” Belphie sneered. “I. Hate. Humans. Simple as that. And look at you, the half human kid of the brother that locked me up here, you’ll have to forgive me for being a little upset, MC.”

“Let’s see now,” Belphegor cooed, bringing his face slightly closer. “Does your pride match up to your dear dad’s? Are you willing to beg for your life? If you do it well enough, I might be tempted to let you live.”

The grip around their neck relaxed slightly, MC gasped for air, taking a few deep breaths. Belphegor raised an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting.”

The silence hung in the air, the back of MC’s head throbbed in pain as they tried to focus their gaze to Belphegor’s. They’d say what they were going to say next looking him in the eyes. The child’s black and red eyes slowly narrowed into an icy glare.

“Death first.” MC snarled.

Belphegor’s hand tightened around their neck so much that MC couldn’t even scream, their hands fell to their sides and their kicks slowly subsided. As their vision began to fade, they almost laughed despite themselves.

It seemed they really were their father’s child.

——

“Death first.”

Belphegor tightened his grip and felt MC’s throat practically crumple and fall apart in his grasp.

Even when faced with death they refused to grovel. Belphegor let out a soft laugh. They really were Lucifer’s child!

That look of pure disdain, that refusal to just give up and beg, all Lucifer.

They really were… Lucifer’s…

Belphie snarled and slammed MC’s unconscious form into the wall again, trying to ignore the feeling that twisted his gut.

“I hate you…” he whispered.

“I hate you… I hate you!” Belphie repeated, not daring to look up. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

Belphie’s hand slowly slipped from MC’s neck and they crumpled to the floor. his arm fell limp at his side as he caught his breath.

There was no way the kid could have survived that, and yet, Belphie heard breathing. Quiet, shuddering breaths.

He dragged his eyes to look at MC. Their demon form really did look like his brother’s. MC’s horns hadn’t fully grown in yet, but they were just beginning to curve upwards, one a little more than the other. Everything from their wings to the diamond shaped mark on the centre of their forehead, was all Lucifer.

The brother that all of them had once looked up to, the brother that took care of them, the brother that declared war on everything he had known for their sister.

…but MC wasn’t Lucifer, were they? No. No they weren’t. They weren’t the human that Lilith had fallen in love with either, they weren’t the reason for the war.

They were the only person that reached out to help Belphie, the person who went up to visit him, they were someone who saw him as family.

“What did you do?” An all too impossibly familiar voice whispered. “Belphie, what did you do?!”

He felt his throat tighten. A DDD buzzed nearby, it was lying face down a little farther down the hallway. In an almost hypnotic state, Belphegor walked over and picked it up.

Two texts greeted him.

Father: I’ll be home in five minutes.

Father: The student council meeting ran late.

The text wasn’t what caught his attention, it was the picture on the lock screen. It was a picture of MC, Levi, Mammon, and Beel. MC was on Beel’s shoulders and Levi and Mammon were shoving each other around behind them. Mammon looked to be having more fun than Levi, who had just noticed his picture was being taken and looked completely terrified. Beel was eating a bag of chips and MC was in the middle of reaching into the bag to grab a handful, they were looking into the camera like they had just noticed the person taking the picture.

They were walking back from… something. Half of Mammon’s face was covered in RAD’s school colours, and Levi was holding a few poster boards that were also in the school’s colours. MC was wearing one of Beel’s helmets, even though it was way too big on them.

Ah, Belphie knew what they were doing. They were heading home from one of Beel’s games.

Belphie’s eyes were glued to MC and Beel. Beel was… smiling. He was happy. He didn’t notice his picture was being taken and he was looking slightly off-camera. One of his arms was holding one of MC’s legs in place so they wouldn’t topple backwards.

Belphegor felt the DDD slip out of his hands and clatter to the floor, he walked back over to MC. They were still breathing, and Belphie blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing right. The tiny cuts from his claws had completely healed over, and the swelling around MC’s neck had slightly lessened. They were being healed…

He kneeled down next to them and reached out to touch their head, he hesitated for a brief moment before letting his hand rest on their hair. A softer magic ran through his hands, MC’s breathing became less laborious and their throat slowly began to fix itself.

Belphie suppressed a yawn at the exertion, he picked MC up and carried them downstairs. They were still completely unconscious. That was good, Belphie heard that humans healed faster in their sleep anyway.

He set them down gently on one of the living room couches and walked back upstairs. Even as he lay back down in his bed, Belphie still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

——

Lucifer dragged Mammon and Levi up the stairs to the House of Lamentation by their ears, Satan, Asmo, and Beel trailing behind him.

“You both are so lucky Lord Diavolo wasn’t upset.” Lucifer growled.

Levi was in his admiral’s uniform, but it was so wrinkled and smelly that anyone could tell it had been lying at the back of his closet. Mammon was still in his school uniform and was trying to wiggle out of the ear-hold.

“C-come on Lucifer! Ya gotta understand, I can’t get hung from the ceiling today, I have a modelling gig!” Mammon pleaded.

“Y-yeah! There’s a rerun of I Can’t Believe My Girlfriend’s Secretly Been Royalty-eeeeow!” Levi screeched and tried in vain to remove Lucifer’s hand from his ear.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You two should have thought about that before you and Levi decided it would be a good idea to get into a fight in front of Diavolo and Barbatos.”

“What a functional family we have.” Satan drawled.

Mammon and Levi’s pleas for mercy quieted when everyone stepped into the house, something was… wrong. Very very wrong.

“MC?” Lucifer called out. No reply. He let go of Mammon and Levi.

“Blood…”

Lucifer turned to look at Beel, who had his nose in the air. “What was that, Beel?”

“Smells like blood.”

Everyone stood motionless for a few moments as what Beel said began to sink in. Mammon was the first to break the silence.

“Shit, MC!” He shouted, rushing towards the dining hall.

“MC? MC come on,” Asmo sped towards the bedrooms. “If this is some kind of joke it isn’t funny!”

“M-maybe they’re in the backyard! I’ll check…” Levi ran to the back door of the house.

Satan and Beel went in the direction of the library while Lucifer stalked towards the living room.

If MC was playing some kind of joke on him, he’d wring their neck.

He entered the living room and breathed an immediate sigh of relief upon seeing MC lying on one of the couches, sleeping soundly. They were just napping…

Lucifer’s lips quirked upwards into a fond smile as he ruffled his sleeping child’s hair, then paused upon seeing the rusty substance that now coated his glove. Mostly dried blood.

“MC..?” He whispered, sitting down on the couch and pulling them towards him. “MC?”

When MC didn’t respond, Lucifer’s heart began to race in his chest.

No.

No.

Not again.

Not like Lilith…

“MC, wake up,” Lucifer said in a more commanding tone. “You’re okay, wake up, right now!”

They didn’t stir, they just lay there. Their breathing and his own thundering heartbeat was all Lucifer could hear.

A shriek from Asmodeus brought him back to reality as Lucifer slowly rocked MC back and forth, muttering the names of spells as he tried to use his magic to heal them.

“What happened?!” Asmo rushed forward, hands already glowing white with magic.

Lucifer couldn’t give an answer nor could he look away from MC as Asmodeus ran a glowing hand along their head.

Asmo snapped his hand back towards him like something had burned him, he looked up at Lucifer with a look of pure confusion. “L-Lucifer… do you know whose magical signature that is..?”

“H-huh?! MC?!” Mammon, followed by Satan, Beel, and Levi rushed to MC’s side. The chorus of questions and shock were of no interest to Lucifer, he continued to cradle MC in his lap.

“Lucifer!” Asmo tried to get his attention again, he growled and whipped his head around to his other brothers. “ALL OF YOU, QUIET!”

Such a sharp snarl from Asmo of all demons immediately quieted them down as Asmo turned back to look at Lucifer. “It’s Belphie. That’s Belphie’s magical signature. I’d bet my life on it.”

Lucifer felt his blood run cold, his grip on MC tightened as he pulled them closer to him.

“Belphie is up in the human world, Asmo!” Satan snapped. “How the hell could he have done this?!”

“I don’t know!” Asmo retorted. “But I’m not lying, that’s Belphie’s magic!”

Belphegor got out of the attic.

Belphegor hurt MC.

Lucifer gently set MC back down on the couch, in a matter of seconds his true form was revealed.

“L-Lucifer…” Mammon whispered.

Watch them.” Lucifer growled. He turned and stalked down the hallway towards the attic.

When he burst through the door to the attic staircase the first thing that hit him was the residual magic energy that practically coated the room. His spell keeping his brothers from being able to enter the attic, the spell that hid Belphie from view if they somehow managed to bypass the first spell, and finally most hauntingly, was the spell that kept Belphie sealed in the attic. All of them were dispelled by a counter spell from an all too familiar magic signature.

MC broke the spells.

Lucifer stormed up the stairs and down the hall to where Belphie was supposed to be, the stench of magic and blood got even stronger as he approached the open door.

He stood in the doorway, Belphie was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, he looked over at Lucifer. The two stared each other down, Belphie’s expression held no malice or anger, it was glassy and far off, like he wasn’t even there. Belphegor wasn’t close enough to see, but Lucifer’s pupils had retracted and stretched.

“Lucifer.”

“What have you done?”

There was no triumph or glee in Belphegor’s voice, it was hollow and empty.

“I ruined the exchange program like I said I would.”

—————

MC’s eyes fluttered open, they expected to wake up to the sound of their DDD alarm buzzing and telling them to wake up for school, but the intense soreness of their neck snapped them back to reality. They were in their father’s room, lying on his bed.

“Ah!” MC rasped, a hand flying to their neck to pull off the hand that was just wrapped around it.

Their thoughts raced. Why were they here? Where was Belphegor? Why weren’t they dead?!

“MC..?”

MC lurched upwards whipped their head back and forth to find the source of the voice. They didn’t have to look very far, Lucifer was sitting next to them with a clipboard and notebook on his lap.

“D-dad?” MC felt tears prick at their eyes, the events of the day crashing down on them all at once. They let out a sob and buried their head in Lucifer’s chest.

Lucifer held MC close, If he wasn’t a demon, the grip MC had on him would have crushed him.

“Sh, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” It sounded to MC like Lucifer was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to reassure them.

It hurt to cry, every sound and heavy gulp of air made MC’s neck and ribs throb with pain, every tiny movement of their arms made them want to cry even harder. The only silver lining was that it was less of a sharp recent pain and more of a reminder of a much older injury. The sped up healing courtesy of multiple spells must have aided in that regard.

“I’m sorry…” They whimpered, choking out another sob. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

“MC, what on earth are you sorry for?”

MC sniffled before explaining. “I… I-I let him out of the attic… I didn’t listen when you said not to go up there…he said he wanted t-to fix everything… I just wanted to h-help…”

Lucifer hugged them tighter, it hurt a little, but MC didn’t care.

“I’m sorry…” MC whimpered again. “I’m so so sorry…”

“Shh,” Lucifer whispered. “It’s not your fault. I should have been there. I should have…”

Lucifer trailed off and the two fell silent, save for the occasional sniffle or hiccup from MC.

Despite all the reassurances, the guilt didn’t go away, but what was worse was the fear. Every cell in MC’s body seemed to be screaming at them for their sheer stupidity. They had let Belphegor almost kill them, and their failure to fight him off had been made known to the entire house.

MC’s shaking slowly subsided and they pulled away slightly. “H-how did I live through that? How am I okay..? He said he was going to kill me…” MC let out another sob and touched their neck. “What kind of demon am I if I can’t even protect myself?”

“MC, look at me,” Lucifer instructed, MC shakily complied. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this was your fault, this fight has been brewing for thousands of years and you just got caught in the crossfire. You’re still a child, there’s no shame in being hurt by a demon thousands of years older that caught you off guard and deceived you.”

MC nodded, wiping their tears with their sleeve. Lucifer did his best to smile comfortingly.

“Besides,” He helped wipe MC’s tears away. “I don’t think any other demon in this house has enough magical power to break all three spells I had in place at once. You’re not weak, MC, nor are you any less of a demon.”

A meow broke its way into the conversation, Bean nestled himself into MC’s lap and began to purr.

“I thought...” MC sniffled, then smiled. “I thought you didn’t want Bean in your room.”

“I’ll make an exception for today.”

“Careful, Father,” MC laughed between hiccups. “Cerberus might think his favourite demon likes the cat more than him.”

“You might be right, and we don’t want to give Cerberus another reason to want to eat the cat.”

MC giggled, then winced at the pain in their neck. Lucifer sighed and pulled them into another hug.

“Asmodeus said that you’ll be back to normal in a few days or less.” Lucifer whispered. “You’ll be okay.”

“Are… are you going to be okay?” MC asked.

Lucifer didn’t respond for a moment, then sighed.

“I will be.”

After a while of absentmindedly petting the cat and leaning on their father’s arm, MC finally asked the question that had been on their mind since they had woken up.

“What happened to Belphegor?”

“He’s with Beel right now.” Lucifer replied, MC half nodded as they stared blankly at the opposite wall.. “He’s not going to hurt you again, I can promise you that.”

“Mm…” MC mumbled, they took a deep breath and braced themselves. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot…”

“MC-”

“No, I messed up,” a lump formed in MC’s throat as they continued. “Beel, Belphie, and I ran away after Belphie escaped the attic the first time… Lord Diavolo found us and took Belphie, I-I made Beel go back to get all of you so I c-could sneak into Barbatos’ room and fix everything…”

MC hiccuped and rubbed at their already puffy eyes. “I just made everything worse…”

Lucifer sighed and absentmindedly clicked his pen. “I know. Barbatos and Diavolo came over before you woke up and explained everything.”

“What about the other future?” MC sniffed.

“According to Barbatos, he merged it with this one.” Lucifer said. “He said that we’ll be getting small batches of memories from that timeline, but that’s it.”

MC blankly nodded again. Their head was filled with emotions and questions they just didn’t have the strength to deal with. It didn’t help that every single one of their limbs felt heavy as lead and they just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Do you need anything, MC?”

“Music would be nice.”

Lucifer smiled and got up to turn on the record player. “Cursed or not?”

——

Belphie was still in the attic. He lay in the bed in the midst of the destroyed room. Nothing was keeping him locked away up there, the door hadn’t closed since MC unlocked it earlier. Despite it all, Belphie didn’t want to leave. Not after what happened earlier.

Lucifer was fully ready to kill him. It had taken Beel, Levi, and Mammon using their full strength to actually hold Lucifer back.

But the hours had passed, Beel had left, Mammon and Levi could barely even look at him, Asmo and Satan hadn’t even come to see him. The youngest had ruined everything, and all he had left to keep him company was the lingering feeling of regret.

“Belphegor.”

Belphie didn’t open his eyes at the sound of his name. He felt a sudden weight on his chest, making it harder to breathe. He was no stranger to sleep paralysis and the unexplainable horrors that often followed, but his thousands of years of experience never could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened his eyes.

Lilith.

Her face was just as he remembered it, her eyes were just as bright and full of life as they were thousands of years ago. Her downy wings were open and fluttered slightly, and to Belphie’s horror, the wound from the arrow that pierced her right wing was still fresh.

But that was all, there were no remnants of the scars that coated her arms and neck from the war, no defeated look of resigned despair…

It was Lilith, just as Belphie remembered her.

She glared at her brother with a rage he hadn’t seen in millennia. She had his shirt balled up in her fists as she asked her first question.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” The pain and agony in her voice when she asked nearly caused Belphie to cry. “Why did you do that?!”

Belphegor couldn’t respond, he just stared up at the ghostly form of his sister. Her glare hardened.

“I didn’t help MC break those spells for you to… do something like this!”

Her form flickered for the briefest of moments, instead of a halo and wings, a dragon-like tail and thin curved horns took their place, Lilith’s eyes darkened and her nails grew longer and sharper before she flickered back to the form Belphegor recognized.

“L-Lilith?” Belphie whispered, she rolled her eyes.

“Using my death as an excuse for that…” She trailed off, her grip on Belphie’s shirt tightening. “You’re terrible! You really are!”

Terrible? Lilith’s childlike way of chiding people for their misdeeds hadn’t changed a bit. Belphie half expected her to cross her arms and puff out her cheeks like a petulant kid.

“What do you mean?”

“MC!” She growled, flickering back to the unfamiliar demon form. “They weren’t involved! They had nothing to do with me! NOTHING!”

“They’re… they’re half human!”

Belphie’s pitiful attempts to justify his actions to Lilith and himself fell flat as the tight knot of guilt in his gut only grew.

“And I’m stuck like this!” Lilith cried, she flickered back and forth from her angelic and demonic forms, her wounds from the war returning and disappearing as she switched back and forth. “Stuck between being an angel and a demon! But you’d have me back in an instant, wouldn’t you?”

She was right, Belphie would have given anything to have his sister back in any form. Angel, demon, human…

“You can’t stop and think for one moment that the humans had nothing to do with my death?!”

“That human was the reason the war even started!” Belphie retorted, trying to push Lilith’s hands off of his shirt. “He’s the reason why you were in trouble in the first place!”

“No he wasn’t! It was me! I made that decision, not him!” Lilith hissed. “You know what you’ve been doing for the past how many millennia? Looking for someone to blame! Looking for someone to hate that you have actual power over! You don’t have power over the Celestial Realm, you don’t have power over father, but you do have power over humans. You hate them because it’s convenient, and MC paid the price for it!”

Belphie shook his head. “That's not true!”

“Then why?!” Lilith snarled. “Why do you hate them so much?! Why don’t you hate the angels with that much ferocity?! What did MC ever do to you other than try and help you?!”

Every accusation hit him like a hammer to the skull. His head throbbed with every single thing Lilith accused him of, no matter how much he denied it, he knew it was true. Every last word.

“Just..!” Lilith’s rage morphed into something much more quiet and fragile, she slowly curled into herself and shook her head. “Just… why? Why haven’t you been able to move on?”

Belphie felt tears prick at the corner of his vision. “You were our sister. They were just going to… just going to kill you like it was nothing. We promised we’d protect you and you died anyway…. and it was all my fault.”

“Belphie…”

“If I had never taken you to the human world this never would have happened…”

“So what?”

“H-huh?”

“So what?” Lilith repeated. “It’s over now. It’s been over and done with for thousands of years. You need to let it go.”

“But-”

“My death wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Beel’s, and it wasn’t any human’s. We tried to fight the person who was responsible and…” She trailed off, then quickly shook her head and returned her stare to her brother.

“H-how,” Belphie mumbled. “How are they all going to forgive me..?”

Lilith grimaced and shook her head. “I have no idea. Just… try. Try and fix this...”

Belphie sighed and nodded. “I will.”

Lilith finally smiled. Her new tail swished through the air behind her as she slowly faded away.

“Thank you.”

————

Author’s note:

May the muse Calliope have pity on my poor soul, this has been a WIP in my Google Docs SINCE PART 3 OF THE HALF DEMON SERIES CAME OUT.

I hope you all liked the angst… I’m not too proud of my skills in writing the big sad (tm) yet, buuuuut this is ✨ progress ✨, so I’m not going to self deprecate! I’m thinking of doing a version where it’s M!MC or A!MC instead of L!MC, because I know that Belphie and the kids would react very differently to the whole attempted murder thing…

But for now, I must bid you all adieu. I’m going to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

[prfctethereal]

Can you write James Potter smut please. Thank you

frosted hearts. | james potter

pairing: single dad!james potter x preschool teacher!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: NSFW. smut, sub!james, dom!reader, talk of masturbation, talk of punishment, mommy kink, praise kink, tit sucking, thigh riding, slap and degrading kink only for a short amount of time at the end

summary: you are harry’s preschool teacher and one day james is late to picking his son up from school

**

It was hard to be around screaming toddlers, all day, every day. By the end of your long shifts, your head was blistered by the engraved sound of whining, moaning, and that smacking sound the children make with their lips.

But for the most part, you loved being around kids. Their tenderness brought so much joy to you and you were happy to have become an early childhood teacher. Your workplace was loving, with your fellow teachers continuously supporting you through everything. Even the kids were decently nice.

The age old stigma that kids were devil spawn seemed like the most foreign concept to as you coddled a near sleeping three year old, his warm body curled up to your side. Reading a children’s story to the kids, you felt so much adoration for the children around you, enough to make your cheeks rouge. All of them looked at you with doe eyes as you finished the last page.

“And the princess and the prince fell in love and lived happily ever after.” You closed the book with a soft clap. “The end.”

Looking around, the children beamed, flashing their pearly, toothy smiles towards you. In that moment, you felt at peace, almost content, knowing that you were bringing enjoyment to the kids surrounding you. Gently, you stroked the arm of the nearest child, Harry, as he slowly unraveled from your side.

“Miss?” Harry asked placidly, his tiny fingers down playing with the hem of your skirt. He looked up at you, fluttering his long eyelashes.

“Yes, Harry?” You responded, once you knew that he wasn’t going to speak without permission.

“Do you have a prince?”

At those words, you frowned, your smile disappearing from your face. Admittedly, you have been quite lonely for the past year. Focusing on work has been devastating for your social life. After your messy breakup with your previous partner, you felt like it was unnecessary to rush into another relationship. Quickly enough, those days turned into months, and eventually a year. Your dry spell was becoming quite unbearable.

As the winter months closed in, you wished for more comfort at night. The smoking fireplace could only fill your lonely apartment with so much warmth before you got desperate - needy - for something more. Some nights were spent with your fingers curled up into your cunt, tight from the months of neglect, desperately trying to churn some pleasure out of you, but, there was only so much your own fingers could do. They couldn’t go nearly as deep enough, or stretch you nearly as much as you so deeply desired. You were starting to become flustered just thinking about it.

“No.” Your reply was short, until you realised the kids around you would want a longer explanation. Sighing, you folded your hands in your lap, pursing your lips forward. “I’m not a princess of any sort. Even then, sometimes people don't have someone with them.”

“Just like my Daddy.” Harry babbled unprompted, dawdling away from you to join the midst of his pre-school friends. “He is all alone too.”

You knew Harry’s father, and just the thought of him made you curl your toes in delight. He was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. Deep hazel eyes that light up when he laughs. Plump pink lips that frame his mischievous smile. Strong, muscular arms, complimenting his toned hands, that you can imagine wrapped around your neck...

Before you could even process the dubious insult thrown your way, you felt a sprinkling of fingers press lightly against your shoulders, snapping you out of your daze. Furrowing your eyebrows, you traveled your eyeline up, locking eyes with another teacher who worked there, Lily.

She looked absolutely wrecked. You knew she had been on the phone for most of the afternoon, for reasons you didn’t know, but you expected that you were going to be told now, as she beckoned you away from the kids.

“One moment.” You held up your finger, showing the kids an example of counting. As you walked away, you saw the kids out of the corner of your eye. They too had one finger in the air, repeating the same word - “One!” - over and over to each other. It was very cute.

“Roads have been closing because of the weather.” Lily started, her nimble fingers gesturing out of the frosted window panes. She was right; the roads were starting to look pretty bad. A thin layer of snow seemed to be shredding downwards, coating the town like powdered sugar. The sun stayed behind the clouds, not even daring to peek through, keeping the town in a cold flurry, and keeping the children inside. This was going to be a long shift.

“So, we’ll have to stay here longer tonight?” You asked, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips. You brought the pads of your index fingers up to the window pane, feeling the chill of the temperature seem into your skin. WIthout realising it, you traced a heart shape into the frost, your own heart sighing as you exhaled.

“Hopefully not.” Lily replied. “I’ve contacted all the parents and have told them to come pick up their kids as soon as possible. This storm seems to not be slowing down any time soon. So, potentially, we might be able to go home early, if the children all get picked up before the snow gets too thick. And, don’t bother coming in tomorrow. The snow’s gonna settle, meaning there will be road closure all across town.”

“Great.” A sarcastic laugh poured from your mouths as you turned back to the kids, who were still being occupied by the thought of having one finger in the air. “We should start getting them ready then.”

You and Lily worked diligently side by side, bundling the kids up in layers of soft clothing, keeping them secure from the storm. The kids joined in too, helping to clean the classroom, picking up litter off of the floor, and clearing off tables. As you sprayed down the surfaces of the tables and kitchen counters, you hummed a soft tune, getting into the rhythm of cleaning.

While you were occupied with cleaning, parents started arriving, greeting their kids with loving smiles and gentle touches. You melted as the kids ran excitedly into their parents arms, wrapping themselves around their mums and dads, wishing to not let go. In those sweet moments, you felt a fleeting pang of loneliness. You longed for your own child, and with that, a loyal husband. You breathed out a sigh, something that was becoming quite regular for you by now.

As more and more parents arrived, you saw the sun trickle behind the horizon. Soon, the night sky appeared, painting the sky in hues of indigo and cerulean. As much as you loved the night, you didn’t love the idea of being stuck here all night, and neither did Lily, who was looking even more restless than you.

Her ginger hair fell across her face, partially blocking her vision as she lethargically signed out the second to last kid. Deep, violet bags were forming under her eyes, her skin borderline white from her exhaustion. It was getting hard to look at.

“Why don’t you just go home?” Your offer made Lily perk her head up. “You look way too tired to even continue standing on two feet.”

“I couldn't do that to you.” Lily yawned, clasping her perfectly manicured hand over her mouth. “And besides, Harry hasn’t been picked up yet. I still have to do my job.”

You looked at her with pity in your eyes. You hadn’t seen her this exhausted in years, and you knew her anxiety was bubbling up as more and more snow fell onto the ground. “Please just go Lily. It’s only Harry; I can monitor him by myself. You need to get home before the snow gets heavier.” Before she could butt in, you continued. “Besides, Harry much prefers me over you.”

Lily laughed, closing you tightly into a friendly hug. “Thank you so much. I’ll get you back another day. Are you sure you’re all good closing up on your own?”

“Go home.” You waved her away dismissively. Lily bounced around and in only five minutes, she had collected herself, and had dashed out the door, leaving only you and Harry in the pre-school.

He was looking quite tired himself, which was understandable. By now, it was nearly eight o’clock at night, a time you knew was well past his bedtime. Harry had curled himself up on one of the naptime beds himself, his raven hair falling over his eyes. Staying by his side, you caressed his back, until he fell into a soft slumber.

You felt lonely again. Harry was asleep and there was nothing left for you to do until Harry’s father arrived to pick him up. You knew a few things about Harry’s father, from the fleeting conversations you had had over the time Harry had been at this school. You knew his name was James, and he looked like heaven. Everytime you glanced his way, you felt yourself grow wet. It probably was a problem, but your secret crush didn’t hurt anyone, so you kept it secret.

Long after it had become dark, you finally saw canary coloured headlights glint in the distance. It was a relatively nice car, something you’d expect a well paid ministry worker, like James, to drive. You watched attentively as the car parked slowly and surely. Then, the car door opened, and you got your first look of James for the day.

He definitely looked a little tired but there was something endearing about it. His fluffy brown hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it greatly. His round glasses sat low on his nose bridge, with his natural eyes scanning the area. There, he locked eyes with you through the window, the same window you had drawn your pathetic heart on. Right then, James was positioned right in the middle of the heart, condensation like a halo.

Before you knew it, James had opened up the door into the school, realising a sigh of relief when he was hit by the warmth of the classroom. Dramatically, he closed the door behind him, leaning up against the frame, apologies falling from his lips like rain from the sky.

“I’m so sorry I was late. Traffic was crazy. Too many road closures.” James seemed frantic, but the solidarity of the preschool was definitely calming his mood down.

“There’s no need to apologise, Mr Potter. Harry is delightful to look after.”

“Please,” James held out his hand, “call me James.” You intertwined your fingers with hsi, shaking his hand ever so lightly, the same hand you had fantasised about. It was everything you dreamed of.

“I should drive Harry home now.” James broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tension, making you want to salivate. You didn’t like the idea of James driving in his state, especially since he looked so tired. If anything, he would need some caffeine in him before the journey.

You reached your hand up, stroking his right cheek with your left hand, concern filling your eyes. “Oh, please James, you look so tired. Let me make you a cup of tea before you journey back home. You look as though you need it.”

James chuckled. “Alright then, just one though. Besides, Harry seems to be having a lovely nap. Wouldn't want to disturbed him now, would we?”

You guided James into the back kitchen through a secret door. Here was your break room where you could have some peace and quiet away from the kids. It was one of your favourite places in the entire school, because even though you loved the kids, sometimes you just needed a place to help you unwind, and unwind you did. Countless times you had fallen asleep back here and had dreamed of James.

“We have Earl Grey. Is that okay?” You looked through your cupboards, eyes locking onto a small red box, tea bags flooding out of it. Personally, you weren’t a big fan of it, that's why there were still so many, but James didn’t seem to mind it.

“Please, sounds lovely, dear.”

You worked in silence, turning the kettle on to boil. Carefully, you dunked a tea bag into a mug, swirling it around in your fingers as you waited for the water to boil. The emptiness of volume was killing; you could’ve heard a pin drop. James was the one to speak up first.

“Harry really likes you. He talks about you often.”

“Oh really?” You chuckled in disbelief, facing away from James, fiddling with some lint of your sweater.

“Yes. Sometimes, he even calls you Mum. I’m happy that he has a mother figure like you to look after him.” You chuckled when hearing James’ words, which confused him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You said, reaching for the kettle. “He’s just not the only one to have called me Mommy before.”

James furrowed his brows, even more confused. “You have kids of your own?”

“Not quite.” You swung your head around, throwing James a cheeky grin. That’s when he understood what you meant. He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, his pants seeming just a bit tighter than before. It was definitely hotter in the room.

“What normally happens when people call you that?” James asked, testing the waters. As you stood to move around, the chair scraped against the wooden floors, alerting you of his prowling presence.

When he was a mere inch away from you, you smirked once again. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?” You weren’t sure where this rush of confidence was coming from but you both seemed to not want to slow down.

Consciously, James raised his hand to your cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His soft hands lingered a little too long, before his eyes flickered downwards towards your lips. You knew what he wanted, but you never took him for the shy type. Something about this made you aroused. Needing relief desperately, you lunged forwards, connecting your lips to his.

It was everything you thought it would be. Hungry, passionate, skilled. Your lips melded perfectly together with his, as his lips sucked gently on your top lip. Yearning for something more, you moved your hands down to his ass, giving James an experimental squeeze. Just like how you wanted, he gasped, giving you the perfect entrance to insert your tongue into his ready mouth. He moaned, his lips vibrating against you.

“Show your Mommy how much you need her.” You pulled away, whispering those words at the shell of his ear. You could hear James whimper in front of you, positioning himself so he was straddling one of your thighs, as you were pushed up against the counter tops.

James’ fingers worked at the hem of your sweater. Eager to remove as many clothes as possible from you, he tugged at the edge, slow whimpers escaping his pretty mouth, as you tilted your head down to his neck, aching to leave soft love bites on his skin.

He was getting needier and more submissive by the minute, but to you, he was acting like a brat. “That’s not how we ask for something we want, is it baby? Use your words.”

“Please Mommy, may I take your sweater off?”

With a curt nod, you obliged, watching James’ eyes light up in fascination. Quickly, he pulled your sweater over your head, glad to see that your thin shir had stuck to the material of your sweater, leaving you in just a bra on top. His eyes were transfixed by the way your nipples were hard on your pert breasts, sticking out from your bra.

“Can I take your bra off please, Mommy?” James’ hands had already made their way around your torso, preparing for the inevitable.

“Yes love, good boy for asking.” You felt James grow harder against your thigh as you praised him, a thought that made you smirk in delight and what could be in store.

Like you were made of glass, James slipped the bra off of your shoulders, dragging it slowly off of your arms. You knew he wasn’t teasing on purpose, as it seemed that he was distracted by the sight of your tits, but you needed relief anyway, bucking your thigh up against his crotch as encouragement. “They’re all yours.”

Delighted, James leaned in, his whole mouth engulfing your nipple. With vigour, he bagan sucking, the pleasure of it going straight down into your core. You moaned loudly, something you learned that egged James on. Greedily, he started rubbing his hands down your side, eager to feel all of your skin. You didn’t mind though, as you were lost in your own moment.

“Good- good boy.” You stuttered out as James’ mouth left the centre of the nipple, beginning to suck small bruises into the side of your boob. Normally, you would punish him - well, anyone - for doing that without permission, but you didn’t care at that moment.

Content with his handiwork, James moved onto your next nipple, ready to give you the same amount of pleasure as last time. As he worked your nipple to a bright scarlet like the last one, you noticed a curious movement with his hips. Looking down, you saw James, rutting his hips into you, humping your thigh as if he was a bitch in heat. You moaned at the sight.

“You like that, huh? You like,” -  you jolted your thigh upwards - “Mommy’s thigh?”

“Mmm, so good.” James mumbled against your tit. You knew he was close to coming, but you weren’t quite done with him yet. Pulling him away from your body, you looked into his eyes to see a hurt expression, something you didn’t like seeing. Luckily, it wasn’t going to last long.

“If you can make Mommy cum from your tongue, then I’ll let you cum on my thigh, alright?” With an excited nod of his head, James immediately sunk to his knees, diving his head underneath your skirt. His fingers worked quickly, stretching the fabric of your panties to the side so he had the best access possible. When you heard a muffled “Oops” against your thigh, you could tell that your panties had snapped from James’ force, but you didn’t mind. He made up for it by being so damn skilled.

He dove in nearly straight away, his tongue licking straight up the lips of your cunt, lapping at it as if it was his first ever meal. The end of his tongue teased the entrance to your velvet walls, pressing in ever so slightly and pulling away, creating tension and frustration for you. But it felt so good.

“Feels so good, darling. Doing so good, my good boy. My good, good boy.” You knew he was spurred on by praise, so you gave him what he needed. Threading your fingers in his hair, you held him down slightly, taking the tiniest amount of control back.

When he began sucking at your clit, that's when you really felt the tide going out. It was ebbing at your senses, the only indication being your shaking body and the mewling whimpers coming from your mouth. This only encouraged James further to topple you over the edge.

Slowly, James brought his fingers up to your cunt, teasing your entrance with his finger. Then, he slipped it inside of you, feeling the way you clenched around his finger. You were so tight that James dreamed of how you would feel around his cock, these thoughts going straight to his straining dick in his pants. He needed relief, so he worked faster, inserting another finger and pumping faster.

You were so close by now. The combined stimulation of James’ lips suctioning at your clit and his fingers working in and out of you was too much. With one last hard suck, you felt your orgaasm wash over you like a tsunami. You could hardly hold yourself up, and that was evident by the way you toppled to your side. The only reason you didn’t hit the floor was because of James’ lightning fast reflexes, keeping you upright.

“Did I do good, Mommy?” James asked, his shiny eyes looking up at you with adoration, his lips glistening with your cum. You smiled sweetly down at him, stroking his cheek with your hand, until you pulled it back and gave him a harsh slap across his face.

“It was so good baby, but I thought I said only using your tongue?” James had the look of realisation on his face, but you kept going. “Naughty boys who don’t follow rules have to be punished, and I don't think you want to get put in the Naughty Corner, do you?”

James whimpered, but it sounded like he was enjoying the degradation. A smile spread across your face.

“Oh so you do? Good boy.”

[scrawnytreedemon]

Victor Frankenstein and Frustration: a Not-Essay, because I can’t structure for shit.

Alright, I’ll try to keep it as clean and concise as I can, but at the end of the day this is a sorta-heat-in-the-moment thing I’m writing while all the ideas and motivation are in me yet. I will be jumping around alot of topics, as this covers alot of ground, but I can’t say I’ll do it with grace: for this, I apologise.

I’ve noticed a trend in online lit fandom, not just on Tumblr, to condense Victor’s character to something roughly following “arrogant, ineffectual and selfish weenie who failed horribly at parenting, who ought not to be taken seriously in any significant way, largely in-due to his constant whining“ --In other words, a right twat.

And here’s the thing: largely, I agree.

However, what I take issue with, I suppose, is largely how this is all framed.

See, fandom has a tendency to sort characters into boxes, and then pick favourites or bête noires from that selection; this is helpful for the largely memetic(as in, shareable,) nature of online spaces; but where I think this thinking falls short is that it tends to divide casts into More Good or More Evil, with little room for nuance.

I think you can see where I’m going with this.

Victor Frankenstein, by all accounts, is an incredibly frustrating character to witness; he gets way in over his head, isolates himself from his loved ones, leaving them worried, deems those ambitions failed, hides from them, then when shit starts hitting the fan, he takes initial actions to try and mitigate the consequence, hits a roadblock, either stops their or chooses an even worse option, someone else gets hurt, he whines, rinse and repeat until the final act of the book, as the stakes get higher and higher and his mental state deteriorates more, and more, and more. If you look at this entirely from an outsiders’ perspective, as you, the audience, being subjected to his moaning time and time again, it can wear on you and your sympathies-- Needless to say, I Get It™.

I think, however, it needs be remarked that Victor is also just some guy. 

What I feel is often missed, is that even before Victor goes to university, he has just suffered the loss of his mother, with little time to recover, and that all of this is being told in hindsight, on his deathbed.

When Victor took on, all by himself, at twenty-two years old, not even letting anyone else know what he was up to, the monumental task of creating life, and then finding that life horribly botched, he did not have the perspective that what he created was equivalent to a newborn child-- For all he knew, he might have animated an actual demon. It isn’t until two years later, after the death of his little brother at the hands of said demon, the he’s even remotely made aware of this.

Victor had worn himself out over the course of several months, physically and mentally, to this one task. He was not equipped to deal witht he consequences. I do not say this to downplay the weight of his actions, or the horrible mess of events that come afterwards, but to state perspective. Victor does not have the hindsight we have at the time of this act. I cannot stress this enough. As much as I enjoy Deadbeat Dad Vick jokes, I get the feeling many people actually view the story from this lens, and hold Victor up to that standard.

Then there’s the trial of Justine: a horrible, useless, unneeded and avoidable affair that ends in even more senseless death. This is where alot of people’s sympathy for Victor runs out-- For more than understandable reasons. He failed to act accordingly, to share the information he had, deeming it to be either dismissed instantly or for himself to be put under scrutiny; it’s clear he’s passionate about Justine’s innocence, but he cannot push himself past his fear and doubt, and ultimately, it ends in her death.

It is a horrible, horrible moment, and one that cements the tone of the story from there on out.

These are two key events that largely colour this image of Victor so prevelant online; and it certainly doesn’t help, what with fandom being almost aggressively left-leaning at times, that Victor comes from a place of privilege; he is almost tailor-made to push all the buttons of fandom sensitivities.

Let me elaborate.

A key feature of Victor’s character is his complete and utter inability to ask for help; no matter how dire the situation. Victor feels, that, despite and even because of his incompetence, that it is his cross and his cross alone to bear. Any inolvement from others, such as Clerval when he heads to England, is hesitant and highly discouraged, even when he wants nothing more than to partake in the company of his loved ones, after all he’s been through. While it is also heavily coloured by the anguished sentiment that borders on self-absorption so much of the time, I think it is also worthy to examine this too.

Victor’s tendency to indulge in self-pity and self-loathing is nigh, if not entirely, all-consuming; it pervades the narrative to a painful degree, particularly as it comes from his recollections; it is often exhausting to read through, and nigh unbearable if you already hold a disdane from his previous actions; but here’s the thing I think most people miss,

Victor is depressed.

I don’t mean “ooh, he’s so sad, leave him alone 🥺,“ I mean the guy is fucking depressed, stuck in a constant cycle of attempting to make do but failing, hating himself even more, letting it consume him because he at once feels like he deserves to be consumed and it’s the only thing he can do then and there to soothe to pain as shit gets worse and worse.

Victor Frankenstein’s internal monolgue is a prime example of deep-seated, far-gone depression, and I say this because I myself have experienced and do experience this. Depression is fucking soul-sucking, man; it turns you in on yourself, makes you feel entirely undeserving of love and compassion, leaves you feeling like you must, have to, deal with this entirely by yourself because it is your cross to bear.

Depression is so often self-flagellating and pointless, leaving the subject drained and often largely unable to experience the world outside their own miserable little bubble.

Victor is so wrapped up in this soul-sucking guilt, attempting to fight his own ineffectuality and in doing so only furthering his own ineffectuality, refusing to ask for help, that he ends up putting the ones he’s trying to protect in further danger as he tries to scramble a hodge-podge solution to the problem he created and couldn’t have even begun to forsee its consequences at twenty-two years old. It is a painful, painful example of how if only he reached out, if only he told someone, was honest, all of this could have been avoided, or at least mitigated.

And I think that’s the thing with Victor.

He’s a kind of banal evil-- If such continuous stumbling can even be considered so --He is an example of every day self-isolation and refusal to let anyone else in ballooning to such a degree it ends in distaster.

People are far, far more willing to forgive Adam for his transgressions-- And I say this as someone far more sympathetic to his plight, what with the absolute abandonment he faced at the hands of humanity --Despite their far more horrific consequences; in many ways, they’re attributed to Victor’s failing; which isn’t entirely untrue,

But I have to wonder, if alot of this also comes down to the fact that Victor’s wrongdoings are so human; leaving someone in your care behind; not speaking up in cases of injustice; being self-involved; again, the constant whining. In a way, it’s the sentiment that in stories a horrible person is often far more bearable than an annoying one.

That doesn’t even begin to touch on how much of the bemoaning might largely be and often is directly post-hoc regret colouring all his previous actions. This, above all else, is a cautionary tale to a fellow idealist in the hopes that Robert Walton doesn’t Fuck Up the way he did. Victor stresses his regret and his failings and his misery time and time again because he wants to protect Robert from a similar fate; a fate that ultimately ends in his death.

Victor Frankenstein is a study in frustration; in audience frustration, self-frustration, narrative frustration; it seeps into every corner of the story.

I am not trying to defend Victor Frankenstein as a person; he is flawed; and he’s meant to be flawed. Victor, at the end of the day, is a deconstruction of the Byronic hero-- Of Great and Powerful Men on the Fronteers of History™-- And most importantly, I think, a deconstruction he himself undergoes. Victor eventually alerts someone, a Genevan magistrate, is doubted just as he feared, and then runs off to take revenge into his own hands.

It takes the death of Elizabeth Lavenza to do so.

Victor is a flawed, miserable man, but not an evil one. That doesn’t mean he deserved to have his life crumble around him.

He could have done better. Should have done better.

And he knows this.

His entire arc is about how he knows this.

Victor dies knowing this.

Him being unlikable doesn’t make him a bad character. Him being unlikable is part of the character; and in a meaningful way.

God, I don’t know how to end this. I’ll probably come back and edit this many, many times.

I guess I’m just tired of people flattening characters just because they’re not particularly endearing.