#fashion museum near me

[greenfadmuseum]

Fashion & Art Museum

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[dozydawn]

[tteokdoroki]

meeting katsuki on hinge or something and you get to talking for a few days— staying up late and sending one another voice notes; updates about your day and the awful coffee shop you work at downtown until you feel comfy enough to give him your Instagram and ask for his.

you damn near shit yourself when you see how gorgeous katsuki looks outside of his hinge account. his feed is probably aesthetic, shots of him in art galleries and in museums— with his big fluffy dog on hikes and his rescue cat on the couch. there are photos of bakugou with his abs out during a work out in a gym highlight, sweat glistening along his forehead, sandy blonde locks pushed back with a headband. all of it is enough to make you drool.

you’re so shocked by his beauty that you’re too scared to send the first DM— ignoring bakugou for days on end as you try to gather your bearings ( which you never actually do ).

then one day, weeks later, you’re on drink duty at the barista’s station— calling names of customers for them to come and get their orders and in the next, you recognise the letters curled around your tongue in a familiar fashion. “katsuki!” leaves your lips before you can register and in an instant, the handsome blonde from that damn dating app is standing right in front of you. “h-here’s your coffee! have a great day.”

“what? y’don’t recognise me?” bakugou cocks his head to the side, amused by how shy you’ve gotten. “‘m i too ugly for a text back?”

“what are you doing here?” you blurt out, blinking slowly.

“wanted a text back from the girl i liked, obviously.” he smiles, grabbing your hand and scribbling his number on the inside of your arm as you open and close your mouth to speak. “don’t ask how i found’ya, there’s only one shitty coffee shop on this side of town. this shit tastes like dishwater by the way.”

you swallow awkwardly, memorising the digits of his number to put into your phone just in case it washes off before your break. “yeah…you probably shouldn’t order from here…”

“and you probably shouldn’t ignore guys like me who really like ya. what time d’ya get off?”

“at five.”

"then i'll pick you up for better coffee at five."

[thollandneedy]

Bed Chem- Tom Holland

A/n: Did i took almost 2 weeks to write it? Yes. Did i slay? Also yes

Warnings: Swearing and smut

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

The white dress had transparent details around it, like tree branches hugging Y/n's waist. The woman had her legs crossed as she sat waiting for her agent to notify her of the arrival of her car. Her attentive eyes caught sight of a man in a white jacket, black jeans that clearly showed off his plump buttocks and his strong arms that seemed to be begging to be freed from his black shirt. The young woman supported her weight on one of her hands, tilting her body to the side in an attempt to see the brunette's face, but caught by surprise, his assistant called out to her:

“Y/N. Can we go?” A man with rectangular glasses asked her, holding out his hand so that the woman could lean on it.

“Um, sure.” The woman straightened her dress, slicked back her hair and walked slowly towards the exit of the fashion event that had just taken place in a historic museum. The architecture of the environment was the same, but with some transparent chairs with comfortable ivory seats. The fashion show of one of Y/n's sponsors had just taken place in the museum's garden, which was decorated with floral and mythical elements that seemed to be inspired by “Alice in Wonderland”. As she neared the exit door, a familiar figure called out to her, causing her to turn around and smile, walking away from her agent.

“Y/N” Laura Harrier, smiling, held out her arms as if waiting for a hug, which was quickly reciprocated.

“Laura! I didn't see you the whole event.” Y/n says as soon as she's out of the hug.

“I was with some of my cast mates. How are you?” The pony-tailed brunette replies, pointing to some people in a circle chatting and laughing quietly to themselves.

“I'm fine, but I have to go. New York is calling.” Y/n lies.

She hadn't been able to write anything for a while, let alone find a chord on the various instruments she played. It wasn't a lack of ideas, because like all Hollywood artists, it wouldn't be wrong to be able to use a song as a template, but nothing seemed to be original enough or to capture her attention in order to finish the song. 

“But already? Well, stay! We haven't seen each other for over five months.” The brunette asked, holding both of Y/n's hands as if begging him to stay.

Y/n smiles, but denies it with his head. Just as her mouth threatens to open in response, the man she was looking at approaches Laura, with a friendly smile and brunette hair as silky as linen. Y/n moves away briefly, giving him room to greet the actress.

“Laura! Good to see you.” The brunette says, and as soon as she finally manages to blur the actor's beautiful body, Y/n smiles with satisfaction, discovering who this man was who had caught her eye without even saying a word.

Thomas Stanley Holland, the newest Spider-Man

I couldn't deny the media attention he was getting, let alone his distinctive British accent.

And damn, what a voice 

“Tom, this is Y/n.” The girl in the red dress moved her body away from the actor, making room for the singer to enter the scene and greet him with a friendly handshake, which ended up becoming an embarrassed hug.

“Y/n L/n. It would be a lie if I didn't tell you that I listen to your songs in my car. You're incredibly spectacular in your songs.” The Brit compliments her, causing a shy smile to escape from his pink, glossed mouth.

“I appreciate your affection, Spiderman.” The woman replies, prompting a low laugh from the actor. “I've never been a big fan of Marvel, or any superhero franchise, but this time you convinced me to watch. You were awesome.” Y/n returned the compliment, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, adorned with a pearl earring.

“Getting a compliment from you made my day worthwhile.” The brunette replies.

“My brother will go crazy when he finds out I talked to Spider-Man.” Y/n laughs, remembering that his younger brother was obsessed with the character Thomas played.

The two of them were already in such proximity that if they lifted their arms to fix their hair, they would end up touching. Electronic music played in the background, while waiters passed by handing out champagne and other appetizers to the guests in the garden and others who entered the museum to take photos. The actress, sensing the connection between the two newcomers, approached briefly, asking to be excused, trying not to cut off the rapprochement that was being generated.

“Sorry to interrupt, but some of my colleagues are calling me. Do you mind if I leave?” The actress asks, receiving a silent no and smiling in thanks as she quietly leaves in search of her friends who have called her to take photos. 

“So you have a brother? What's he like?” Thomas asks, stepping forward, trying to move his steps elsewhere as they talk.

“He's great, but he knows how to drive me crazy.” Y/n laughs, following in the actor's footsteps and walking to the exit door.

“You don't want to go to my house to meet my family then. I have four brothers, and for a touch of femininity, my dog Tessa.” Tom mentioned, putting his two hands behind his back and causing the singer to react with astonishment at the number of brothers he had.

“And do you get along?” Y/n asks, receiving a yes between silly smiles. 

“Yes, quite a lot. But it's still difficult to deal with.” Tom continues the conversation, only to be interrupted when his agent calls him with his hands, showing that his black vehicle is already waiting. “I have to go now. I have to do a photo shoot later and I haven't even eaten yet. Can I text you later? Maybe I'll be free tonight. “Holland mentions, shifting his posture to face the woman in the see-through dress.

As soon as he stopped, his eyes once again shifted to watch her.  The woman's clear smile mesmerized him, as her eyes beckoned him to touch her. Even though her face had delicate, virginal features, Holland's mind was filled with dirty thoughts, however unintentionally. The actor had no intention of making the woman do anything she didn't want to do, let alone disrespect her, because his British moralism would never allow it. 

Y/n, on the other hand, felt the same way. Women are discreet and careful in the way they express their admiration for appearance, especially of a man they had never met before. Y/n would deny the invitation if she was silly and really had important work to do, but perhaps a distraction would help her inspiration. 

“I didn't give you my number.” Y/n says.

“I've been following you on Instagram for a while.” The brunette admits, looking away.

“And where are we going?” Y/n asks, drawing a sideways smile from the actor.

“Wherever you want, darling.”

(...)

The sun had been out for hours, and the bars were closing. The air in London managed to be more different than in New York, strangely wetter. Thomas's apartment had some of its lights on when his shoes were thrown into the hallway, and the walls made banging noises as if there was a fight about who was stronger. The clock struck almost two in the morning, and the neighbors who had once tried to sleep were now hiding their ears from the sounds coming from the young actor's apartment. 

“I don't usually do this on first dates,” Y/n said, tripping over her own shoes as her long-sleeved blouse was lifted, exposing her white bra.

“Don't worry, doll. I won't tell anyone.” Thomas says, kneeling down in front of the singer, allowing his tongue to meet her exposed belly, leading it to her covered breasts, which she responds to with a positive moan. “Can I take it off?” The actor brought his eyes up to hers, as if they were begging for his wish to be granted.

“Please.” One of Thomas' hands goes up to the clasp of Y/n's bra, unbuttoning it in a second with just one hand. 

Carefully, he pulls her up, holding her legs and pressing her against the wall so that her feet don't touch the floor. Their necks meet in a hard, abrupt touch, while their mouths move in sync, not allowing them to move. Carrying her on his lap, Holland detaches the woman from the wall, taking her to his bedroom a few rooms away. The couple laugh, allowing the actor to open his eyes and walk through the corridors of their home.

“I bought the apartment recently. I still haven't got used to everything in here.” The brunette admits, while Y/n wraps her arms around the young man's neck, agreeing with what he has said.

She didn't even know what he was saying on the way, since her concern was how he was going to touch her, hold her and turn her. Y/n noticed that they were approaching a white door with a silver handle, which was easily opened by one of Thomas's free hands, as the singer's legs were entwined around his hips. The brunette closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath as he let the woman's feet touch the heated floor, watching her room as the lights came on. As much as Y/n wanted to check the actor's room for red flags before he could commit some kind of act he would later regret, it wasn't possible for the place to be assessed, since Holland's tongue will find Y/n's within seconds of leaving it on the floor.

“Holy shit, Y/n” Thomas holds her against him, walking backwards as if guiding her into a mysterious cave of hidden secrets.

“What?” The woman smiles, as Thomas's hands go down to the buttons of the younger woman's pants, which manage to be removed with ease by his nimble fingers.

Y/n's ass becomes exposed to the warm air of the room, while Holland begins to feel his member harden against the factory of his pants, adjusting his hard-on in search of relieving the feeling of desperation buried between his legs. The heat rises to his cheeks, making him stretch out on the bed, putting both hands behind him to support the weight of his body against the bed he was lying on. His eyes drifted down to his smooth, apparently freshly shaved legs, returning to his hard breasts against the shirt he was wearing.

“Come ride on me,” Thomas asked, quickly removing his shirt after thrusting his body forward, carefully pulling the singer's thighs apart until she was sitting on his lap, rolling against his erection as soon as she felt it.

The singer smiles sideways, resting her two hands on the actor's back, who lies back, allowing her to take control of the moment and feel safe in the midst of the act they were about to perform. The air seemed to be getting denser and denser, and that was exactly what Y/n needed for her week's vacation. Something that inspired, surprised and called her to focus on something other than just music and work. 

The woman removes her blouse, finally exposing her hot body, sliding it against the actor's muscular chest, which allows a moan to escape her mouth. Y/n's back arches, as her mouth seeks out Holland's mouth once again with her tongue and fiery desire. The actor holds on tightly to her hair, bringing her closer, until the sound of the zipper opening is heard and he finds himself with only a hut as a representation of underwear.

“It's been a while since I've done that.” The singer confesses between wet kisses, feeling her lower lip being touched by her sexual partner's tongue.

“I'll help you,” the actor offers, finishing removing his underwear, leaving them both completely exposed to their desires on the bed with its wine silk sheets and comforter of the same color. 

Without even thinking about protection, Y/n put one of her hands on the actor's chest while she searched for his member so that she could fit into his wet entrance. The need for touch was so intensely hot that foreplay was no longer part of the process. The actor's penis fit perfectly into the younger woman's layers, feeling every bit of her completing her between wet slides of her pussy. The man groans loudly, gripping the woman's waist tightly until he makes red marks on each side. Y/n throws her head back, pressing her thighs together so that her movements meet Thomas's in their sexual synchrony. The man's hands manage to control the woman's sloppy movements, making her moan louder. 

“Fuck, Thomas.” The woman moans thinly, closing her eyes as if to squeeze them shut.

“Do you like that?” The man draws her attention with a muffled voice.

“Uhum” The girl rides his lap hard, finding a perfect rhythm. “Oh, shit”

Holland quickly pulled a pillow over his head, managing to improve his view of the surrounding singer. He couldn't tell if it was because her vocal range was so good, or because he was enchanted by her, but every sound she made managed to be perfect. The window of Thomas's apartment was open, as were the curtains that exposed the immense City of London as if each light in each house were a tiny star in a sea of space. The light was low, almost reaching the same intensity as the moon, which was also part of the lighting used by the couple. Holland moved his left hand to the pillow, squeezing it tightly with each thrust that Y/n made into his hard member. 

“Huh,” the brunette moaned. “If you keep this up, I'm going to come soon.” The man warned.

“And that wasn't the intention, baby?” The girl says breathlessly.

Her breasts were exposed, swaying with each hard smack against her wet spot. Her clitoris could be stimulated by her own hand, seeking a faster and stronger orgasm, so that she could relax her body for a good sleep, or perhaps another round that felt satisfying. As soon as Thomas noticed the stimulation she was practicing on herself, he caught her eye:

“No, darling. Let me touch you. I want to make you scream.” The Briton said, placing one of his free hands under the woman's hand in front of him, making her get off quickly so that she could be penetrated once more.

The pillow, which once served as a support for the actor's head, was now positioned against the woman's belly as she lay in a straight position with her hips slightly raised. Thomas kisses the singer's ass, running his hands over her soft skin, his eyes fixed on the beginning of the bed adorned with several pillows that he probably hadn't even used. Thomas holds the base of his penis, placing it against the entrance of the woman who involuntarily asks him to penetrate her, pressing her wet core against the pink head of his penis. Feeling the wetness of his member in contact with her entrance, it was as if her insides missed him and were ready for him to take her.

Without haste, the actor's penis entered the woman, eliciting a loud moan from her that was muffled by the mattress. Y/n's loose hair was pushed away from her face, allowing him to see even the slightest of her facial expressions as he penetrated her to the point where their skins made a sound. Her back arched like a cat's, and her position was perfect for hitting her G-spot with ease. With a feeling of power overtaking his body, Thomas put his weight against Y/n's back, lowering one of his hands to one of her breasts, which were massaged with fervor when he found them. Once again, a loud moan came out, now sounding hoarse and lacking the strength to moan any louder. 

“Thomas!” Y/n moans, clutching the messy sheets.

Holland takes on more shape and movement, starting to feel the sweat build on his wet chest. His mouth opens in an “o”, while his eyes close abruptly as he feels a huge explosion forming inside him. His breaths, as unregulated as they were, still came in a rush. Y/n felt his body tense up, as if his muscles were trapped in a cage of exhaustion after too long without an intense connection. 

“Come for me, come on. Let me hear you,” the brunette ordered, as if he were imposing a commandment on her. 

Y/n can't even deny the request, as the orgasm hits her hard like an eruption from a fiery volcano, feeling her fire being put out by the actor's soothing cum. Her walls contract, expelling her entire furrow in a shrill scream from both of them in the room, as if their bodies were begging for more. The brunette exhaled the air of satisfaction, allowing his body to fall next to his partner, who was still recovering from the physical effort and energy released during the climax. The girl smiles to herself, putting one of her hands to her face to cover her silly laughter, and then sneaking closer to the actor, whom she embraces in an affectionate gesture. Her body is wrapped in the sweaty man's arms, who smiles briefly at the naked singer, then says:

“I don't know what we'd be like as a couple, but I'm sure we have good bed chem”

[niteshade925]

April 13, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi Archaeology Museum/陕西考古博物馆 (Part 1 - Neolithic to pre-Qin dynasty):

Unfortunately I was not able to acquire tickets to the Shaanxi History Museum/陕西历史博物馆, which is one of my biggest regrets from this entire trip, because Shaanxi History Museum is the provincial-level museum, it has a lot more artifacts. Xi’an is the capital city of Shaanxi Province, so it has both the city-level museum and the provincial-level museum; the one I posted about previously, Xi’an museum, is just the city-level museum.

But fortunately Xi’an has a quite a few history museums, which makes sense considering the city’s very long history, so on we go to the Shaanxi Archaeology Museum:

For the longest time I also thought archaeology was a very European thing, but actually? It did also exist in ancient China. The word guxue/古学 (lit. “Antiquity Studies”) existed as early as Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD), and by Song dynasty (960 - 1279 AD), kaoguxue/考古学/archaeology was pretty well known. Sidenote: the word 考古学 may not mean exactly the same thing as archaeology in Song dynasty, but today it just means archaeology. Below is the Song-era kaoguxue work named 《考古图》 (this book on display was printed in Qing dynasty, judging by the cover):

Compare the above with the notes of a modern archaeologist:

A collection of interesting Neolithic era pottery artifacts with various faces on them. Some are from Yangshao culture/仰韶文化 (5000 - 2700 BC). I swear you can make reaction pics out of these lol

They even have these refrigerator magnet souvenirs lol

Is that a pottery piggy on the right? This piggy looks oddly familiar…

Which reminds me of this other pottery pig found near the Sanxingdui/三星堆 site (Picture from Douyin user 姜丝炒土豆丝). Looks very familiar indeed lol

A pottery drum reminiscent of an udu drum. The one in the front is a replica that visitors can try out

Left: a pottery artifact with a frog face on it. Right: a pottery tiger I think? Not sure.

Shang dynasty (1600 - 1046 BC) jade dragon:

Carved stone bricks from the neolithic site of Shimao/石峁 (~2000 BC). These were originally found in the outer walls of the site, which is why they are presented this way:

Mouth harp artifacts from Shimao culture (top one is a modern one, for comparison). There’s also a map on the many variations of mouth harps from cultures around the world, which is really cool:

Fragments of bone flutes. These were flutes fashioned from crane bones, the most famous of which were the intact flutes unearthed from the Jiahu/贾湖 site dating back to 7000 - 5700 BC, and they were still playable (first link is the 1999 Nature article regarding this discovery, second link goes to a recording of a modern musician playing the song 小白菜 on one of these bone flutes)

A Western Zhou dynasty (1046 – 771 BC) bone hairpin. There were quite a few hairpins in the exhibition, but this is my fav:

And now comes the really cool stuff: oracle/divination bones. Oracle/divination bones were animal bones that ancient Chinese people (mostly of Shang-era) used for divination. These bones have holes drilled into them in a pattern and have oracle bone script/jiaguwen/甲骨文 carved into them (the carved text consists of questions presented to the gods), and then they were heated slowly over a fire until the bone starts to crack. A priest or priestess would then interpret these cracks, as they were seen as answers from the gods, and record the answer on the bone. Sometimes these bones were used purely as records for important events:

Since oracle bone script is the oldest form of Chinese written language, it is possible to decipher the text carved onto these bones:

[vampireghostlawyer]

Foreshadowing of Daan's fate in Termina Compilation

The reveal of Daan becoming Pocketcat was one of the things that made me so wholly obsessed with Termina and now, after playing it a few times and analyzing the wiki and party talks to hell and back, I've found a few pieces of foreshadowing (some minor and some more blatant) and I wanted to compile them.

1.) Battle sprite

This is one is probably the most obvious, so I'm including it first. In Daan's enemy battle sprite, he is posed very similarly to Pocketcat. Both are faced slightly to the side of the player, with one leg bent in the front, and a hand in their pocket.

2.) Fashion Choices and Dialogue

Daan and Pocketcat are likely nods to the dandy archetype. They both put a lot of emphasis on their clothes and appearance (Daan makes constant references to his shoes and clothes throughout the game, and Pocketcat has multiple dialogues about contestants' clothes as well as his own). Each of them are overly polite and follow traditional etiquette to the point of comedy, and even in situations where it doesn't make sense to do so. Daan will continue being civil to the player, even when he is made furious through talking in battle, and Pocketcat will spend his entire fight doing the same. They speak in surprisingly similar ways, with both using a copious amount of vintage slang and queer-coded linguistics mannerisms.

Also, if Daan transforms, he will continue wearing some of his own clothes as Pocketcat. This one is so obvious I hesitate to include it but I figure I might as well. Specifically, he will unbutton his jacket and wear Daan's vest underneath, as well as his pants and boots. Interestingly, Pocketcat also becomes a shade paler when he transforms into Daan, but I'm not really sure why or what it signifies.

3.) Selfish Artists Karin parallel

Daan and Karin are pretty obvious foils to each other, which serves as the basis for a lot of their bickering in game. They have inverse backstories, inverse motives, and inverse personalities.

When speaking with Pocketcat in the museum, the player may hear a long dialogue of his about the three types of artists/people he sees in the world.

This has multiple meanings, both narratively and in terms of giving the player hints about what to do next, but there are some pretty strong ties hinting to the Daan and Karin parallels in the story. Karin's largest fears (and eventual transformation) can be seen pretty clearly in his description of the extroverted artist, while Daan could be either the introverted or third artist.

4.) Conversation with O'saa

This one is relatively minor, but if you have both Daan and O'saa in your party in the museum's ballroom (near the Pocketcat), O'saa will become puzzled by something and Daan will ask him if a "cat's got his tongue." This is, of course, a common idiom, but considering the time and place where it happens, it seems like foreshadowing to a certain extent.

5.) Pocketcat's Usual Victims

The implications that Pocketcat is a pedophile are honestly so blatant that they aren't really implications. We know that he targets vulnerable children, particularly in Rondon, and finds sexual gratification in it. We also know, through Daan's backstory, that he suffered multiple instances of CSA. Pocketcat has a special interest in people who he sees as malleable, likely blank soul types like Daan. Considering Daan shares two features that Pocketcat targets (both a blank soul, as well as his past), it becomes more obvious that he is a possible future victim/host.

6.) Rher Identity and Mask

Speaking of Daan's blank soul, Rher's book, The Truth Under Moonlight, details a philosophy about people not having a true self.

Pocketcat is not only a servant of Rher (so he likely follows Rher's beliefs), but he seems particularly devoted to the idea of not having a true self, or only having a true self that can only be revealed by outside forces and not oneself. One of his arguments to Daan during his transformation revolves around a secret truth about Daan that has existed for years, as well as he seems to take on traits of the hosts he inhabits, such as their clothes or subtle mannerisms. Even his mask is a symbol of a lack of identity.

Combining all of this with the knowledge that Daan has a blank soul, and seemingly struggles to understand himself (as he often contradicts himself and presents himself very differently to certain characters), it seems like another nod to the fact that Daan is the sort of victim Pocketcat would target.

7.) Meddling and Daan's Connections to the Occult

Part of Pocketcat's purpose as a servant to Rher is how he meddles with the future of people who may harm Rher, or bring other gods more power. Daan's lifelong connection with Sylvian, as well as his connection to and research of the Sulfur God, would both make him a target of Pocketcat's meddling.

Additionally, Daan's past with the occult makes it clear that despite his aversion to the gods and religion, he has experience with them and helps build a relationship to the player between him and the godly creatures in the game like Pocketcat.

8.) Daan's Pants

Both Daan and Pocketcat wear tight, distinctive pants (by 40s' standards, at least lol), and Pocketcat even comments on and expresses an interest in Daan's pants. Obviously, post transformation, he also wears Daan's pants.

9.) Promise to Olivia

The player can promise to take Olivia to a club after they escape Prehevil and she asks them to dance with her (I don't have a screenshot and it's not on the wiki, I'm sorry 😭). Obviously, this technically could happen with any playable character, however it points towards her eventual death at Pocketcat's hands.

In certain circumstances, Pocketcat will kidnap Olivia and forcibly take her to the dance at the museum, where she will moonscorch and transform into the mechanical dance. Imagining this conversation happening with specifically Daan out of all the playable characters makes Pocketcat's sudden obsession with forcing her to go to the dance and become a dance make a lot of sense, and is especially insidious.

This also only happens if both Daan and Olivia are alive, but not part of your party (according to the wiki).

10.) Game Mechanics

Probably my absolute favorite foreshadowing of Daan's transformations are the parallels in game mechanics and combat skills between him and Pocketcat. While Daan is a healer, primarily meant more for magic and healing than combat, his most well known and powerful skill involves amputation (magna medicinal). Pocketcat's main attack is a dismemberment attack targeting a limb of choice, mirroring not just the amputation, but also Daan's ability to choose which limb he's sacrificing.

Additionally, Daan's healing and loving whispers ability works through him whispering comforting (and possibly sexual) things to another party member to heal them. Pocketcat's B attack is a version of healing and loving whispers which harms the recipient by saying offensive and perverted things to them.

11.) Game Mechanics Part II

In addition to their combat skills talked about above, a common (and I believe, intended) strategy for Daan's character points towards his possible future as a host for Pocketcat.

Because of his Magna-Medicinal ability, many players keep Daan alive for a period of time exclusively to use for reviving other characters. Basically, keeping him in the party and removing all his limbs via magna-medicinal to buy 4 extra lives for other characters.

I think this primarily serves as an example of Daan's core character and backstory, where he has been taken advantage of, abused, and used as a sacrifice his whole life, however I also think this hints at his transformation.

Based on our tentative understanding of how Pocketcat works, he takes human men's bodies as hosts and inhabits their bodies to keep himself immortal. Daan's mechanics encouraging you to essentially do the same to him point towards why he is eventually willing to allow Pocketcat to do the same to him.

---

Those are all the ones that I can think off off the top of my head, but if I remember more, I'll add them. ^^;;; I wrote this all at 3am so im sorry if some if it makes no sense

[fdelopera]

Welcome to the 25th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

This section was first printed on Monday, 1 November, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 10 at, “In this fashion they climbed up two floors,” and goes to Christine's line, “'Not a farce, Raoul: a tragedy!'” in Chapter 10.

Note, however, that a large part of this section in the Gaulois was cut from the First Edition. See below.

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) In the Gaulois text, this line reads:

... Christine (car c'était bien elle, il l'avait reconnue à ses yeux, il put encore la reconnaître à sa voix)

Translation:

... Christine (for it was certainly she; he had recognized her by her eyes, and he could further recognize her by her voice)*

* NOTE: The fact that Leroux states that Raoul could only see Christine's eyes helps to clarify the design of her mask, which was a black domino mask with a piece of black fabric hanging down from the bottom of the mask, covering her mouth. This piece of fabric was called a "barbe" ("beard"), similar to this historical mask below from a museum collection in Helsinki. In this scene, Christine’s black mask is meant to mirror Erik’s, whose black silk mask Leroux described as having a “barbe” that covered his mouth.

2) This section in the Gaulois text (highlighted in red above), which describes events that are discussed in the next chapter, "The Magic Envelope," was removed from the First Edition (along with "The Magic Envelope" chapter) in order to maintain the consistency of Leroux's narrative:

Translation:

He could barely hear Christine's whispered words, the young woman's breath was so light.

"There is someone in the box next to ours ... I hear him moving..."

He tried to speak, to tell her that it would be easy to go elsewhere to talk, but she silenced him with an emphatic "shush."

Hunching over, she crept up to the front of the box and risked a glance outside; this seemed to be enough to apprise her, for she returned immediately and said: "I thought I also recognized his voice... He talks to himself..."

Raoul, who was beginning to grow puzzled by Christine's behavior, asked her:

"Who is it?..."

"It is a Capuchin monk!" she said, still in a whisper... "And I am sure that the other one will arrive soon."

"What other one?" asked the Vicomte in the same tone of voice.

"The other Capuchin monk."

"If you are so afraid of being near Capuchin monks," replied Raoul, "we should go!"

But she seemed quite agitated.

"Oh! That could be highly unwise right now! It's madness!... Why did he tell me that he had a rendezvous in the Box of the Blind, which is located above?"

Suddenly, she stood bold upright:

"But then he is also going to come, himself!... Yes, yes, let's go!... Let's go!..."

She opened the door to the box and closed it almost immediately...

"Too late!..."

And visibly, she began to tremble.

"Put your mask back on, monsieur! Put it back on and do not remove it under any circumstances."

And she leaned against the door, as if to prevent him from opening it. Christine was swooning; Raoul tried to hold her up, but she pushed him away with her hand and pointed to the partition wall.

Then they heard a voice, which said:

"At last, monsieur, you are here! But do you not think it would be better to chat in your office? Here, monsieur, we must always be wary of eavesdroppers! Let us go to your office, monsieur..."**

And they heard nothing else but a door opening...

Christine let out a deep sigh. It seemed that at last she was allowed to breathe.

And she opened the door, saying:

"There is no more danger, Raoul!... But I was very afraid!..."

"Afraid of what? What has made you afraid? You must tell me, Christine!" implored the young man, who asked himself whether or not he would finally have an explanation for all of these bizarre comings and goings, all of these expressions of hope or fear. Christine did not reply. She continued to watch attentively through the gap between the door and the partition wall to see what was happening in the corridor.

Raoul watched behind her. At first, he saw two monks who looked like two friars and who were already descending the staircase leading to the second tier boxes.

The two hoods under which they were hiding were soon no more than two little shadows at the top of the steps, and then they disappeared. In the same instant, Raoul, who was following Christine's gaze, saw, on the highest step of the staircase which ascended to the tier above, a red foot place itself on the stair.

... And then, two red feet...

** NOTE: As is related in "The Magic Envelope," this was Erik's voice speaking to the Managers (who are the two figures dressed as Capuchin monks), telling them to go to the managerial office.

3) Minor differences in punctuation.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 1 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

[bullet-prooflove]

4000 Followers: Barcelona - Matthew Keller x Reader

Tagging: @rosielou94 d @kmc1989@toheavenwmydrms@noxytopy

Companion piece to:

5 Times - Keller almost tells you he loves you.

Three Minutes - It takes three minutes for Matt Keller to lose his humanity.

Transactional - In the wake of your injury, you leave Keller a Dear John letter.

It takes a couple of months for Matt to track you down. You’ve rented an apartment in Barcelona, near the town centre because your working a legal gig for the Picasso Museum. Your business has been flourishing in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve bounced from Frankfurt, Vienna, Milian and now to here. Matt’s always been a few steps behind you, he’s missed you by twelve hours back in Italy.

Matt has never done this before. He doesn’t chase after women, he’s usually the one that does the leaving. The fact he wants to follow you, it speaks volumes.

When you enter the apartment he’s sitting on your couch flicking through a Spanish fashion magazine, his brow furrowed. He sets it down on the coffee table as you close the door behind you.

"I'm not giving you security details for the museum." You tell him drifting towards your desk to check your laptop. To your surprise it looks untouched.  

"You know that's not why I'm here." He says as he raises to his feet and approaches the desk. His fingertips caress the tiny terracotta dog perched on the corner. It’s new, an unusual piece, not expensive but he knows it’s a sign, one that you’re planning to stay for a while.

“No I don’t.” You say distractedly as you close your laptop. “Because you don’t give me a reason behind anything you do, why you leave, why you stay, why you turn up in my place in Barcelona. I get nothing from you Matt.”

“Avery…” He says softly, his palm coming to rest upon yours and you pull away because his touch, it always leads to the same damn thing. “You know how fucked up I am.”

“Yea,” You tell him meeting his gaze. “It’s a good excuse to hide behind when shit gets too real isn’t it?”

This right here, this is why he loves you. You see through all of his bullshit, you call him on it. You are the first person who has ever bothered to scratch beneath the surface of his psyche. The only one that sees him.

“Avery.” He whispers, catching your hand. He squeezes it lightly and your fingers twitch underneath his touch. You don’t have much mobility in it anymore, Woodford saw to that. “Please just let me show you.”

“We’ve played this game before and we both know where it leads.” You say as you draw away, your hand slipping from his. It feels like a knife plunging into his chest but he gets it, your protecting yourself because he is not a safe bet, he never has been.

You watch as he removes his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans before he takes out a ticket stub and places it on the desk beside you.

“This is from the night we went to that art show in MOMA, you were wearing that dress, the blue one with the white flowers.” He murmurs as his hands come to rest on your hips. You tip your head up to look at him and for a moment he allows himself to hope, he prays that this is the time he can finally get the words out. “I remember because…”

…that was the day I fell in love with you.

But the words they just won’t leave his lips, they die in his throat as he cradles your face between his hands, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. He realises in that moment that it’s never going to happen. Those words they’re associated with so many terrible things in his life. There’s no pleasure in them, no joy, there’s just anguish and grief.

“I can’t tell you what you want to hear sweetheart but I promise you I feel it.” Matt whispers against your lips. “I feel it with every fibre of my being."

“You should go.”  You tell him, your palm coming to rest upon his chest before you push him away lightly. “You’re just going to break my heart all over again.”

You twist away from him then, because your eyes are stinging and you don’t want him to see that weakness in you.

“Avery.” He rasps and sigh as you turn back towards him.

“Matt look…” You trail off because the last thing you expect to see is Matthew Keller on one knee in front of you, a little black box in his hand.

You recognise the ring, Alexandrite with an accent marquise cut, set between two diamond leaf clusters in a rose gold band. You’d been devastated when you’d had to sell it to pay Matt’s legal bills but you’d owed him, because he’d killed a man for you, saved you from something worse than death.

There’s a lot of history attached to that ring. It had been taken from your family in the late 1930s along with the rest of their belongings before they’d been shipped off to a concentration camp in Germany. Out of the four family members that went in only one came out, your Grandmother. That ring was the only memory she had had of her own family. It had been the first thing that you and Matt stolen together. It had been residing in a collection of stolen Jewish artwork, along with other Nazi memorabilia. The other shit that man had had in his collection…

You’d burned that place to the fucking ground afterwards.

“I hate shit like this.” Matt had told you after you’d deposited the three stolen pieces of artwork you’d managed to rescue inside Peter Burke’s porch. He’d find it in the morning, get it back to the place it belonged to.

“All she wanted is to see this ring one more time before she died.” You’d told him as you sat in the passenger seat of his car, looking at the circlet inside the tiny black box. “They took everything from her.”

“We did a good thing here tonight.” He’d told you as he’d walked you to your door that evening. “Consider this one on me.”

You’d taken him to bed for the first time that night.

And now he’s on one knee in front of you, with your Grandmother’s ring.

“I might not be able to say it.” He tells you, his eyes meeting yours. “But sweetheart trust me when I say I feel it.”

Love Keller? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[gayaest]

your fashion and character designs are so stunning and it totally compliments your art style :)) you definitely have to be one of my favorite artists !!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!

Thank you very very much, that’s so sweet of you — genuinely love being told that others like my art or why 😭🙏 and being someones’ favorite artist ????? MY BRAIN AND HEART EXPLODES! (Not literally — but with emotion).

I’m so glad people like my fashion choices for my artwork! Truly love looking through catalogues, magazines, pinterest, ebay, and many other places like for knitting/crochet or personal seeing! I saw a lot of texture artwork back when I was still in highschool, and the art museum near me.

Anyway, thank you again, it makes me really happy to hear this!

[youphoriaot7]

It's already getting late when Cellbit and Richas set out to finish the tasks. There's only the museum left, but they forgot to catch it on the way back to the house. Richas insists they do it before bed, however, so they decide to take the walk back to the main square, a comfortable silence settling between them as they head out.

There's a flicker of something on the edge of Cellbit's vision. It's been there for a few hours now, constantly hovering just outside of his field of vision. But it's starting to drive him nuts, and he rubs his fingers across his eyes in the hopes that it might get the image to clear.

It clears, alright. Just not the way he expected.

A figure hovers directly in front of him. They're about Richarlyson's height, and they're following along at his side. The white hood covers their hair, coming to a little point at the top, and the blue designs scattered along the hem stick out—if in a bit of a...ghostly fashion.

He blinks. And blinks again.

But the figure is still there.

Acting before thinking, he reaches out, grabbing Richas' shoulder to tug him back a few paces. The boy stumbles, turning to glare back up at his pai before scanning their surroundings for whatever danger he thinks Cellbit sees.

The figure in white turns as well, the image flickering slightly as in faces them. There's a soft smile on their small face, and they raise a hand to wiggle their fingers in a wave.

"...do you see them, Richas?"

The kid glances around, confused, before looking back up at Cellbit with a raised eyebrow and a shake of his head. Cellbit manages to tear his gaze away to look down at his son's reaction for one second.

When he looks back up, the figure is gone.

He tries to put the incident out of his head, pass it off as insomnia and move on, despite Richarlyson's worry. But it keeps happening. When he's talking to Forever in the president's office, the little figure is crouched behind the desk, peering up at him. When he heads upstairs to talk to Mouse, they're there, swinging their legs off the edge of her bed. When he works on the Ordo late at night with Roier, they appear, running around the chairs with child-like glee. And none of them seem to notice, always glancing at him in concerned confusion if he brings it up.

It takes him way longer than it should've to figure out what's going on.

One day, the keychain on his backpack falls off. The hook gives away, and the small egg he'd taken from the adoption center smashes face-first into the dirt near his castle's waystone. And he doesn't realize it right away, proceeding about his day as normal.

When he comes back near sunset, he happens to glance down—and there it is, laying in the mud. Quickly, he crouches down, dusting it off as he clasps a hand around it.

When he stands back up, there they are. Kneeling in the dirt near the waystone with a look of pure grief etched onto their features, the figure in white flickers a few times, the translucency of their outline uncertain.

Immediately, Cellbit pockets the keychain and moves over towards the child. They aren't looking, head in their hands as he kneels down next to them. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out, trying to touch their arm.

It doesn't work, of course, it goes right through. Ghosts aren't solid. But it must've been jarring enough, because the child looks up at him in surprise.

"You...can see me?"

It's less of a whisper and more of a breath, the words just barely audible in the quiet autumn evening. Cellbit nods, too afraid to speak and break whatever spell it is that's allowing him to interact with this spirit.

The child smiles hesitantly, almost nervous. Then, in a breeze, they vanish.

But they're not gone. Not really. He still sees flashes of white in the corner of his eye, generally whenever he's least expecting it. The keychain stays tied to the backpack—extra sturdy, now. Wherever he goes, the child follows.

Unforgotten.

[jojolalas]

[Poll Fic] Playing with the new update which allows polls on reblogs. Each part will have a poll on how the story should progress <3 once the fic is finished I'll post the entirety to ao3.  Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru  Synopsis: Gojo was already late to meet Shoko but in true Gojo fashion he stopped for an overly sweet coffee first. He had every intention of grabbing his coffee and being on his way, but there's someone there who looks familiar. (Childhood Friends AU x Coffee Shop AU) Current Rating: T, may go up depending on votes. 

The air was sharp with the threat of snow, cutting through Gojo's hoodie with each gust of wind. His lack of a winter coat earned him a few curious looks on his walk but his brisk pace prevented anyone from making an inane comment. The very last thing he wanted to do on his day off was make boring small talk about how he preferred the cold air of winter to the suffocating heat of summer. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he cringed, knowing who it was without looking. Shoko had practically begged him to third wheel with her and Utahime, and if he was going to spend his day watching those two pretend to not be into each other then he needed some caffeine and a lot of sugar. 

Shoko [9:45] Where the fuck are you? 

Gojo smirked, picturing the annoyance on her face as she paced in front of the museum. They agreed to meet before Utahime arrived to spare Shoko ‘the embarrassment’. 

Gojo [9:45] Coffee :D :D Want anything? 

Gojo sent the text as he pushed open the doors to his favorite cafe, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeting him instantly. The cafe was a few blocks out of his way today, but it wasn't like the few extra minutes mattered, he was already late. The interior was cozy, blinds drawn and the lights dimmed to a soft warm glow to create an intimate atmosphere . The air was filled with the dull hum of chatter, conversations all low enough to be unable to pick out individual words. 

He wondered if he should feel guilty about being late to meet Shoko, but he was doing her a favor. Actually, the real favor would probably be in ditching out on her and forcing her to spend time alone with the woman she’d been obviously pining over for close to a year. 

As he patiently stood in the short line, his pocket vibrated once more, and he pulled his phone out with a smirk. 

Shoko [9:48] You're an addict :P Ugh, may as well grab me a black coffee since you're already running late. 

Gojo [9:48] Five bucks you've got a cig in ur mouth rt now! 

Shoko [9:49] Your point? 

Shoko [9:49] You're already late, don't you dare stop to flirt! >_> 

Gojo rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond to her. He couldn't help it if people found him insanely attractive and sought out his attention. A little voice that sounded suspiciously like Shoko reminded him that 'you don't need to flirt back'.

His eyes flitted around, wondering if today would be the day someone caught his eyes instead of the other way around. Despite the reputation he'd inadvertently earned around the office, he didn’t go out searching for his dates. If an attractive person sought him out, who was he to say no? But he rarely saw them a second time. Call him picky, but most people just didn't check the imaginary boxes for him to consider a serious relationship. Not that I even know what those boxes are.

What would Shoko do if I ditched her for a hot piece of ass? Or better yet, if I brought someone to the museum to ‘double date’. Gojo chuckled to himself, imagining the look of horror Shoko would have in either scenario. 

Long black hair in his peripheral grabbed his attention and he zeroed in on the man at a small table along the wall near the pick-up counter. The man sat facing the wall, and Gojo raked his eyes down the man’s wide shoulders and the defined muscles of his back. His hair was loose and flowed beautifully down his back like a silken waterfall.

“Next?” The barista at the register loudly called and Gojo snapped back to the moment. He quickly stepped up, not even slightly embarrassed that he had been staring and missed that it was his turn.  

“Good morning,” he greeted with his most charming smile. “I don't think I've seen you here before, you must be new.”

She nodded, giving him a shy smile. “My second day.”

“Ah! Well, I'm sure we'll be great friends in no time! I’m here allll the time!” He winked before taking pity on the poor blushing girl. “Ok, so, easy order first: a large black coffee. Make it decaf.” He chuckled to himself, Shoko would never know. “And also a large iced quad-shot soy latte with two pumps of vanilla syrup, two pumps of caramel syrup, one pump of hazelnut syrup, one pump of cinnamon dolce syrup, one pump of toffee nut syrup, one pump of white mocha syrup, and a dash of sea salt. Can you top it off with whipped cream, caramel drizzle, and cinnamon powder?"

Halfway through Gojo slowly relaying his order another barista came over to help the new girl. Gojo smiled politely when the seasoned barista rolled his eyes, “I wish the boss would just let us add your usual to the menu to save us the hassle.” He patiently walked her through the order and then left her to finish. 

Gojo winked, thanked her, and paid with the addition of a generous tip before strutting over to the pick-up counter. His attention quickly returned to the man he'd checked out before. Now that he was closer he could see the man's profile; strong jaw, gorgeous eyes, and a long neck which stirred something deep in him. While Gojo didn't date often, he wasn’t one to ignore the pull of lust…

Shoko would kill him. 

She didn't have to know.  

He could just ask for his number and hook up with him later. That seemed like the mature middle ground he should be striving for. Right? 

The man shifted, leaning forward over his laptop, hair falling like a curtain to block his face from view. It moved like silk, and Gojo’s fingers itched to run through those locks to feel for himself. 

As he watched the man typing away on his laptop, the ghost of sharp eyes and a gentle smile tickled the edge of his memory. Childish laughter as he rolled down a grassy hill, ruining his brand new school uniform but not caring because his best friend was with him. It was the last real memory Gojo had of his childhood Geto Suguru. They had been inseparable since preschool, spending every moment possible in and out of school in each other's company. Geto's family moved away when they were twelve. Gojo only found out at school; no goodbye, no warning, just an empty desk, an empty house, and an empty space next to Gojo. 

How long had it been since he'd been reminded of Geto Suguru? It's funny how someone he'd once declared never to forget hadn't crossed his mind in so long. Ten years was a long time to hold onto a childhood friend who’d forgotten you, yet Gojo didn’t mind, the good memories outweigh the bad. 

He shook himself from the memories and back to the task at hand. Hot man- cafe- coffee on its way. Gojo weighed his options in a fraction of a second and took half a step towards the stranger, determined to at least exchange a few words before dashing off to rendezvous with Shoko. A loud voice broke up the quiet atmosphere before his foot hit the faux wood tile.

“Are you fucking stupid or something?” 

Gojo tilted his head towards the commotion, his brows furrowing in concern. The new barista on the register looked like she was about to cry as a man leaned toward her with an aggressive posture. He was tall, muscled, and had several tattoos on his face and neck. What a douche.

“Sir- I-”

As the barista started to defend herself the man sneered and jabbed a finger in her face. Gojo rolled his eyes at the unnecessary aggression, pausing for a moment, torn between the desire to intervene and the reluctance to get involved. The other baristas working were skilled at de-escalating hostile customers, but something about the man put Gojo on edge.  

Poll options for part 2:

Gojo intervenes with a joke Gojo grabs Sukuna's hand and pulls it away from the barista’s face Gojo ignores it and goes to flirt with the hot stranger

All roads lead to stsg, some just include more angst.

[corleonewrites]

La Vérité

AU: Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

Vincent Renzi x Original Female Character fanfic.

Summary: Two people connected by the same past. Two lawyers. And one tangled case which brought them back together again, giving them the opportunity to sort out their feelings towards each other, no matter how painful memories are to both of them can be.

Chapter 5. Fantasie in F Minor, Op. 103: D. 940

“I’m celebrating my birthday this Friday and you’re coming, Camille”, Jean-Louis greeted me the other day in October, when the lecture with Vincent was about to begin.

For that moment my interactions with Renzi were longer and more frequent, and of course, Estella and Loise tried couple unsuccessful attempts to find out what happened between me and Vincent, how close we were and those kinds of things but I cooled their interest down: firstly, because it was none of their business, and secondly, those meetings with him outside the university walls were not romantic at all.

They didn’t leave to something more than just discussions about my degree essay, about films, art and books. We visited museums and cinema but never met in bars or somewhere more private. He kept his distance as I was keeping mine, not knowing what he wanted and what I wanted as well.

______________________________________________________________

I was always not into relationships, I didn’t really believe in them in general, besides my parents and grandparents got divorced and for a long period of time it was my evidence that all relationships would crack.

Before I met Vincent and before our affair started, I never had close and deep relationships with anyone. Even when I went on a few dates when I thought to consider the idea of having a boyfriend – everything finished with the simple kiss, nothing more. It didn’t bother me, even when all my friends were talking about how great their sex with their boyfriends was and all this kind of stuff, because at least I knew that I was waiting for someone special, even though it sounded very old-fashioned but I was raised in old-fashioned style and was proud of it.

______________________________________________________________

The first court hearing just finished and all three of us: Sandra, Vincent and I headed back to the woman’s place, discussing what could be done before the next hearing and what could be said during the process. My head was pulsing a little but it was a side effect of my job and I got used to it but with the help of headache pills.

The hearing itself wasn’t in the way of how I thought it would be: just a regular process, without any difficulties. But right when it started, I understood that not only the first one but all the other ones would be harder with every new one. Not only because of the harsh answers and questions from the prosecution, but also because of the evidence which we needed to collect. It would discover all the skeletons in the closet of our defendant.

During the process I pointed out how Renzi was glancing at me from time to time, but these glances were irritating me and I pretended not to see them, concentrating on the process. Even though it was exciting to work with him in the first few minutes – then I pulled myself together and the rest of the hearing ran smoothly. Of course I could still feel his eyes following my actions.

______________________________________________________________

I checked my black knee-length dress and my loose hair in the mirror near the bar’s entrance and entered the dark room with bright colorful lights and disco ball on the ceiling, holding a present for Jean-Louis in my hand.

The table for our birthday company was in the end of the room, near the bar desk: I recognized some students from our class, Estella and Loise included, and then my gaze dropped on monsieur Renzi, who was sitting in the corner of a big sofa, taking a sip from his drink. He also looked at me, his glance was long and followed me, when I reached Jean-Louis to give him a hug and give a present:

“Happy birthday, Jean-Louis”, I said loudly and hugged my friend, but tried to asked him something on his ear, “You decided to invite all of our teaching staff, am I right?”

He just laughed and winked at me, and tried to reach Vincent, “No, only monsieur Renzi, if you don’t mind”

I glanced at him once again, but shook my shoulders and quickly looked at Jean-Louis again:

“No, I don’t mind at all, it’s your birthday. So let’s celebrate it with a glass of whiskey sour”

It didn’t take much time for me to start dancing on the dancefloor to the beat of old music from 70’s and 80’s: it was a thematical night at the bar. When with every second of the music were carrying me away to feeling of nostalgia that I never had, I couldn’t help myself but was glancing at Vincent, who decided not to dance, but to sit on the sofa. At one point, Estella sat near him and accurately placed her hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear, which made me angry, but during this interaction my tutor was thoughtfully looking directly at me, without paying attention to Estella and she quickly left him, looking pissed.

Slow and beautiful song Domani è un altro giorno by Ornella Vanoni suddenly started to play on the background and I glanced at Vincent again: this was the song we’ve heard in Indian Summer, it was playing at the bar scene, it was romantic and deep at the same time and it was one of my favourite scenes in the film as well and I caught myself in a thought that both Renzi and I were in the almost exact same scene at that moment, especially when Jean-Louis who was dancing near me before the song started moved to me and asked to slow dance with him. I didn’t say no, and I wanted to make Renzi jealous.

Probably it was a successful move, because during the whole song he didn’t move his thoughtful gaze from me, when I looked directly at him as well, the tension between us was in the air, with every second and every move it was becoming stronger and unbearable.

In one moment, almost before the song finished, Jean-Louis looked at Vincent then at me, smirked and whispered in my ear:

“I think monsieur Renzi caught an eye on you, Camille”

______________________________________________________________

“She’s attractive, right?”, Loise asked Vincent, when he was watching Camille slow-dancing with Jean-Louis on a song from Indian Summer.

He stopped thinking about mademoiselle Cadieux only in terms of student-teacher kind of relationships a couple of days ago, before that evening, when surprisingly Jean-Louis invited him to his birthday. She interested him in everything, but most of all she attracted him as mysterious, attractive young woman with sad thoughtful glance. Renzi tried to take it out of his head at the beginning, but since those brief encounters with Camille outside university began to be more and more frequent – he stopped pretending that he didn’t care.

That evening at the bar must put all the dots on “I”. He was feeling it but he didn’t know how to begin. It was completely opposite than his regular court hearings. It was the matter of love and interest.

“Yes, she is”, Vincent didn’t turn to Loise, continuing following Camille’s moves on the dancefloor.

“But mind you, professor, she’s a tough one. She’s not like any other girl, she has her own secrets and she won’t open to anyone without trusting them completely. And she never did…”, Loise continued, moving closer to him, whispering on his ear, but he just moved forward, keeping distance from her.

“I’m able to figure it out by myself, mademoiselle Bisset.”

______________________________________________________________

The birthday party slowly moved to Jean-Louis’ apartment. Right when everyone was inside, Jean-Lois turned on the music on his record player when girls helped to serve drinks to everyone. Vincent curiously was walking around the apartment, when I sat on the big sofa, slightly drunk and completely tired from bar’s dances.

“How about watching a film?” – Alain, Jean-Louis’ friend, asked, laying on a couch with his drink in hand.

“Oh, yes! Let’s watch something good and old-fashioned”, Estella agreed, when Jean-Louis looked at me and smiled:

“Let Camille Truffaut decide then, I have a big collection of good classics”

Vincent finally returned from his excursion around the apartment and stood behind me, when I thought for some moments, and said:

“Well, since I’m Truffaut tonight we’re watching Truffaut’s Jules and Jim”

“Just how I thought”, laughed Jean-Louis, and pulled out DVD with Jules and Jim out of his impressive collection of cinematography.

The lights went off. When Vincent finally sat beside me on the sofa, and only millimeters separated us from each other – I felt how my heart started to beat faster with every second. I didn’t move. When the film started, after a couple of seconds, I felt Vincent’s hand was slowly moving towards my hand, I didn’t hesitate and finally my hand was in his. It was such a slow move that we didn’t think that someone would notice it. We didn’t actually think that someone would care anyways.

______________________________________________________________

“Camille? Are you asleep?”, I’ve heard Vincent’s voice from somewhere deep. Probably I fell asleep on our way back to town, as at some point I lost track of our quiet talks in his car and I didn’t even notice it.

“Had lack of sleep previous night, it happens to me recently”, I replied, looking at snowy road.

“Never noticed it, you was very active at court”

“Well, the hearing was tense and nervous, I didn’t have the opportunity to close my eye for a second”, I replied dryly, “And it won’t be easy for sure, not until the last one”

“And yet it feels like there’re going to be a lot more of them. I wonder how Sandra will handle this, I know that she’s very strong, but she can break under those circumstances”

Again, Renzi was talking about Sandra, and again I felt that strange feeling of jealousy inside me, I wondered if he ever was thinking or talking about me with anyone else, when we had our affair which I believed at some point, would last.

I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to look at him or be around him now. All I wanted was to get out of the car and cool my head by visiting hotel’s lobby bar. At the same time, I was thinking about that difficult case almost 24 hours a day with some pauses for bits of sleep, I wanted to be good and professional, it began to be a huge matter of my personal career. I wanted to beat my tutor. I wanted to beat Vincent.

______________________________________________________________

The film and the birthday evening were over. It was half past one and everyone began to leave Jean-Louis apartment. Vincent and I were the last ones, the door closed behind us and now we were standing alone in the hall, waiting for the elevator to arrive. Just as the elevator was slowly going up to us, Vincent’s hand was slowly raising up and when the elevator’s doors opened, his right hand was on my shoulder. I couldn’t resist no more. I turned around and we stormed into the elevator, kissing each other deeply.

For a couple of seconds, when the elevator was slowly going down, we were finally alone and we couldn’t hold ourselves back, the feelings that were circling around inside us were finally coming out.

We exited the building, the cold wind of late autumn night greeted us when we reached Vincent’s car. I got inside, and the door of the passengers’ seat closed. No words were spoken between us, it felt like we understood each other just by the way of how we looked at each other, it felt surreal, I couldn’t believe that it was my real life and I wasn’t in the film. The engines started and the car led us to the night full of opened deep feelings and things that couldn’t be said and done in the daylight before that particular evening.

[vampyrluver]

About Me!

Hi! I am writing this to get rid of my carrd and have this replace it as a pinned post is much easier to update than a carrd site.

My name is Cal or Vampi <3

24 / any pronouns / Black / Aquarius sun, Libra moon, Gemini rising (I know...triple air sign...)

Resident Vampire lover, also aspiring academic. But im actually quite lazy and bad at reading. Currently Majoring in Anthropology with a Minor in Mythology and folklore, with my main focus being supernatural folklore and African folklore. I am in my last year of Undergrad and will probably be going to grad school for archiving, or museum studies or both.

Please talk to me about anthropology, folklore, mythology, vampires, supernatural beings, or anything related to humanities and social sciences. I love learning and most importantly i love yapping.

Outside of academics, heres a list of things i am insane about

Music:

Kpop (nct, onlyoneof, nmixx, le sserafim, gidle, seventeen, shinee etc), Goth music (with an emphasis on dark cabaret), hyperpop, cringe fansongs, alt rock, vkei, jrock in general, jpop, ethiopian rock music, ethiopian rap, alternative folk music, and metal.

Feel free to give music recs I am very open to just about any genre yes that includes country and rap! I love music so much <33333

Thangs:

vampires (duh), clowns, uncanny valley, dolls, lolita fashion, horror/thriller books/shows/movies (mostly thriller, am baby when it comes 2 horror), the splatoon franchise, dc comics, various video games, dating sims, gacha games, shigaraki tomura of my hero academia and probably more if you just scroll thru my blog!

Overall, i just like things that spark joy, I collect clowns, anime figures, kpop albums, vampire books/media, kpop photocards, CDs and i am starting a porcelain doll collection (i have 2 so far). Feel free to ask about any of my collections! My proudest collection is my vampire book collection, as i am nearing 100 books!! with a few VHS's and other various items scattered in the collection)

I also soon will amass a giant splatoon frye merch collection. I love my lil freak squid thing so much. Ill show that when it comes in!

I love collecting, I love learning and I love Yapping.

Hopefully this was through enough!

[fandomcrazy6226]

Liveblogging Dracula Daily - May 3

So... apparently today is a tumblr holiday considering how much this particular tag is skyrocketing to trending, so I decided to subscribe to Dracula Daily and experience the story for the first time this way.

Yeah, I've never read Dracula, and basically all I know about it is vampires and Transylvania (spelling?) and that MatPat went viral for a... chair scene I probably don't need to go into detail about (only because I'm sure the venn diagram of people who read DD and people who follow MatPat already know about it).

So... enjoy this girl's first look into this 127-year-old book. First entry, let's go!

First off, I don't think I'll be able to read this without picturing MatPat as Jonathan so that is just going to stick around. Late trains are a plague on the world, one time my dad and I were up until about 3 in the morning waiting for a layover train in Chicago. Fun times.

OK one thing I do know about this is that there's a weird amount of recipe-tracking and apparently paprika so just for funsies I'm gonna keep a count of both. Recipe count: 1 (chicken w/ red pepper) ; Paprika: 1 (name of chicken).

Ooh, the British Museum! *insert joke about stolen artifacts here* Yeah, big brain moment to actually look into the country you're traveling to. I feel like that's something I would fail to do tbh.

I should probably keep track of all this. Carpathian mountains contain Transylvania, Moldavia, Bukovina. And the castle isn't on any maps which nowadays would probably be suspicious but I guess back in 1897 it wouldn't have turned so many heads. Oh this next section is all geography isn't it

Ok. Saxons and Wallachs in the South, and Wallachs are descended from Dacians. Magyars in the West, and Szekelys in East and North. ...no disrespect to any of these groups if they're real (I'm not sure) but these names look a bit like someone trying to scoot around the rules with a word in scrabble. Oh and apparently the Szekelys are descended from the Huns (Let's get down to business!!!). And all of the superstitions in the world are written down in one place in these mountains? Logistics?

"I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough" literally me every night this past week. Might be time to go back on the melatonin. Paprika count: 2 (cause of weird dreams? Can paprika give you weird dreams? *google* doesn't look like it) Ohhhh the paprika made him thirsty so he was up all night drinking water. That makes more sense.

Oh my god Paprika count: 3. Part of his breakfast. Incidentally, Recipe count: 2 (corn flour porridge and eggplant stuffed with... whatever forcemeat is. Mixture of meat and vegetables. Okay then) Ha! And again with the late trains. It really sucks when you do so much to be on time for something and then the something decides to make itself late.

Well now I wanna see this scenery out the train cause it's described super pretty. Alright these are some very interesting-looking outfits being described here. Cowboy hats? Were those even a thing when this book came out? I mean obviously yes they were if they're in this but like... what.

OK Bistritz is the town near the castle, yes? And apparently this town has been through some stuff. 13,000 death count, yikes!

I love how this guy is so happy his hotel is old-fashioned. Like that's such a definite eager history nerd moment. I can see why tumblr likes this guy.

Well that letter is a lot more friendly than I'm aware this turns out. I guess I'll see how it turns batshit crazy in the next couple days? I don't actually know how this story is really paced, but hopefully the next update happens tomorrow cause I really like this.

NEXT

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find Five Lines

Thanks @aziz-reads here!

Rules: find five lines that fit the prompts, then change ONE for the next people you tag!

A line with death

From The Secret Portal Part One - CW: death

Kwasiyaa squinted, trying to figure out what it was, but before she could, her sister’s body convulsed as the light was jammed into her stomach. “ATSILA!” Kwasiyaa shrieked, her voice cracking, as her sister’s body crumpled to the ground.

A line with fear

From The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

My head whipped to my right to see a patch of vines wrapped around a tree. I yelped as they detached themselves and snatched in the air toward me, jumping back and almost tripping on the uneven ground. I staggered until it appeared they couldn’t get to me. The vines seemed to notice something above them, and I followed them up until a sight caused a deep shudder to course through me. Ash hung above my head, tangled in and thrashing against the vines that twisted around her body. “Oh, my—! Ash!” Ash seemed to notice me, but from her head hung in an almost-limp fashion, as if she was losing consciousness. Panic rushed through me as I tried to form a coherent thought.

A funny line

From The Secret Portal Part Two (Noelle POV)

My comm beeped next to me, signalling a direct line. I picked it up from the desk in front of me. It was from Dr. Asghar. Confused, I answered it. “Hello?” “Finally! Where are you? I commed your room multiple times and didn’t get a single response! I even tried to have SORARA, and unless you’re the lightest sleeper except for direct commlines, you’re not in your room.” “Couldn’t sleep,” I answered, somewhat truthfully, once I could get a word in the lecture. “Doctor, if I may ask, why are you calling me at this time?” “Why are you awake at this time?” I paused, not sure how to respond a question I’d already answered. Dr. Asghar must have realized this because she went, “Nevermind. I have to run tests today, and I have to get you done and going first. Come up to the lab. Now. I want to talk to you.” She hung up.

A line with colour

From The Secret Portal Part Two (Jedi POV)

Svyatoy Andreyzamok was beautiful. We walked alongside a large river, the Novayavoda, that ran through the middle of the city. The buildings seemed rather uniform, carved by terrakinetics obviously, due to the materials, and near the tops of the buildings were more elaborate designs done in colored stone. They fit with the climate: cold, but not dry. My eyes rested on a teal building with white columns and yellow trim around the windows. I read the sign, advertising it as a health museum.

A line you've changed a lot

From The Secret Portal Part One

Kwasiyaa screamed at the explosion behind her, but the sound that escaped her throat was masked by the deafening eruption. In her state, she lost control of the cloak she covered over herself and her husband, rendering them temporarily visible. [This is the first line of the book, which I've changed a million times]

Tagging @winglesswriter @anyablackwood @winterandwords @sarandipitywrites @space-writes

+ ANYONE ELSE

Your lines: A line with movement, a line with fear, a funny line, a line with colour, and a line you've changed a lot

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[clove-pinks]

A delightful part of the Fort Meigs museum is this dress-up area for children, with child-sized replica clothing for different groups present in 1813, and an illustrative mural on the wall.

The soldier at far right is labeled Native American but looks more Shawnee specifically, and is from Tecumseh's Confederacy. The British redcoat is from the 41st Regiment of Foot, who were deployed to Canada in 1799 and saw action throughout the Niagara region and the old northwest. I like that the fatigue dress at far left shows the US forage cap, although I think the long, tasseled style was also in use.

19th US Infantry uniform looks correct... Ohio militia maybe not so much? All US War of 1812 state militia are always depicted in that stupid hideous frontiersy get-up, especially if they're from "western" states. I think it's supposed to imply that they did not have standard uniforms like a professional army. An extant Ohio militia uniform in the museum looks nothing like this, however!

This wool militia coatee was worn by Thomas Armstrong at Fort Meigs in 1812-1813. His militia company was raised in Lisbon, Ohio, near the Pennsylvania border. Typical of the problems with state militias in the War of 1812, most of Armstrong's company returned home before they even reached Fort Meigs, because their terms of enlistment had expired.

It was an emotional experience to be so close to an extant uniform! Armstrong does not appear to have been small in stature, from his coatee, and the waist is not small, although clever tailoring with the dolman-style buttons and piping makes it look more pinched-in. (Remind me to show you the absurdly wasp-waisted War of 1812 uniform from Kentucky). More civilian fashion influences can be seen in the long coattails.