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tsuki-sennin · 3 years

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Mina-san, bonne lecture~! (Tsuki recaps his feelings about Kamen Rider Saber, a personal essay.)

So, Saber... what a wild ride it's been, huh? Just a quick heads up, this is very long and rambling, and also contains spoilers for everything in Saber. It's fine if you don't wanna read all this, but I just wanted to get my thoughts out there.

TL:DR, Kamen Rider Saber's an undercooked hot mess I absolutely adore, warts and all.

Speaking as objectively as possible, it's a 6/10. Probably closer to a 5 than a 7... it's not great: All the different plot elements are cluttered and weirdly paced; character focus is disjointed and clearly biased toward certain characters, leaving great ones like Kento and Ogami, interesting ones like Kamijo and Hayato, and underdeveloped ones like Sophia and especially the Shindais in the dust; not to mention its balance of comedy and drama is off, and while both are very effective, there's a lot of mood whiplash that can take you out of the story. I also feel like a lot of the easily avoidable character conflict could've been easily resolved, even in universe, by simple conversations. Be careful Fukuda, I think Inoue might sue you if he finds out you've been biting his style and doing it worse.

Rider shows have a very frustrating tendency to drop cool form ideas and not do anything with them, and I don't think it's ever been more the case than with Saber. There's a similar argument to be made with the majority of Heisei Phase 2 after Gaim, but wow. The suits are expensive to make without just straight up recycling everything, I get that, but man, I really wanted to see more Wonder Rider forms. How come Touma got all the fun, eh? Of note are the Blades King of Arthur forms (which look amazing by the way), Espada's Jaaku Dragon forms (one of which I even drew last night), even the non-elemental random Wonder Ride Books all have awesome design elements that go tragically unused. Even if the other Swordsmen just kinda have the ones they do get to use slapped onto them, that's at least something. Touma also just straight up only uses Diago Speedy twice and never again. You have cool props guys, don't waste them like that!

Speaking of waste, Espada, goddamn. Since most of the Wonder Ride Books are Story Type and he needs one very specific Story Book to transform, he doesn't get much of... anything, really! No Wonder Rider forms like Blades, Lamp Do Cerberus being exclusive to Ganbarizing, only getting to use the Ride Gatriker like once, he even spends the second and third arcs as a completely different Rider, then once he comes back he doesn't get a King of Arthur-granted upgrade or even a Necrom Espada form. ...at least, not yet anyway. I'm holding out hope for Espada x Necrom and the eventual Saber V-Cinemas. Extra Rider stans, we will be well respected someday.

The Unreal Engine CGI used for fights in early Chapters was pretty good but wow it feels disconnected and they really drop it quick. I feel like if the animators had more freedom to use as many forms as they want, we'd have gotten a lot more mileage out of the books beyond... decoration basically. I actually really liked the CGI sequences, they felt creative and were fun to follow along with.

The soundtrack is pretty great on its own and conveys what it needs to, but they seriously overplay the orchestral themes. It honestly feels kind of... stock at times. I think my favorite parts of the score are when it winds down, since it feels a lot more natural and lets the cinematographers and actors speak for themselves.

As awesome as I think Falchion's design and the Mumeiken Kyomu are, The Phoenix Swordsman and the Book of Ruin comes up short as its own standalone thing. You'd think 30 or so minutes of non-stop action would be awesome, and it almost is? It's as good as a typical episode of the series with a higher action budget, but it kinda drags on a bit too long; and although I think Emotional Dragon looks cool, it feels a bit tacked on. Coming off of the incredible Zero-One REAL×TIME, it doesn't give you much room to breathe, which Rider films are typically great at handling. I also thought the resolution for the kid's subplot was kinda forced. He does an okay job at acting considering his age and doesn't overstay his welcome, but I really don't see how 20 minutes of violence and action is enough to convince him to be brave enough to go play with the other kids. 5/10, it's closer to a 4 than a 6 and I think that maybe Zero-One should've stood on its own if they really had to push back Kiramager Bee-Bop Dream because of the pandemic.

Alright, with all that said... As imperfect and undercooked Saber was, like Ghost I can consider it a personal favorite, 10/10. Call it a guilty pleasure if you want, but holy hell it's just the show I needed. Takuro Fukuda has a talent for creating fun, wonderful characters and utterly fascinating worldbuilding and concepts. It's a shame he doesn't utilize them fully, but hey!

The action and fight choreography are pretty top notch as usual. Lots of beautiful shot composition and set pieces, and plenty of great angles to help keep up with the extra busy action. I love watching the suit actors perform and they deserve all the respect in the world for their hard work in those hot, sweaty, and heavy costumes. Their visual design is also top notch, with lots of unique and fascinating forms and cool weapons I desperately want to play with despite being broke, all with spectacular finishers and hype jingles with the voice of Akio motherfucking Ohtsuka calling them out. A real feast for the eyes. Not a single bad suit among them, yeah I said it, fight me.

The crossover specials are soooo good too.

-I went over my feelings on the Zenkaiger crossover episodes in a separate post (good luck finding that btw), but to sum it up, they were great character moments for Zox and the Shindai siblings with lots of great screwball comedy and some good old fashioned meta humor.

-The Ghost crossovers are great little side stories all about how Daitenku Temple somehow had the Ghost Ijunroku Wonder Ride Book? I genuinely have no idea why it was there, or how Makoto had the Specter Gekikou Senki, and as far as I remember neither of their origins are explained. Did Luna or Tassel hand them off to them and told them to wait for a sword guy? And why do these generic French Revolution Gamma villains working for Danton get their asses handed to them so easily by Kanon, who literally just became a Rider? I thought that Makoto deciding to adopt all the Kanon clones into his family was both hilarious and adorable though; considering all the crap they went through, I think it was a good ending to this plot. Gimme Espada x Necrom already Toei/Bandai/Fukuda/whoever I need to yell at, give Kento things to do, I beg you.

-I haven't actually seen Super Hero Senki since it's not available for subbing yet, but apparently there's a Journey to the West plot starring the Taros and Ohma Zi-O and I want to see that so badly.

Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra? Yoohei Kawakami? A match made in heaven, that's what they are. All of their themes are absolute bangers. All of them. Almighty, Kamen Rider Saber, Sparks, Taju Rokou, all excellent and empowering pieces. Rewrite the Story, Will Save Us, and The Story Never Ends are all amazing inserts done by the cast, and it makes me wish we had even more of them to help break up the monotony of the score.

The characters are what easily make this show such a great watch though. For the most part, they have great personalities and chemistry, consistently fun and interesting scenes, well acted and... sometimes well-written development, and deeply investing personal stakes.

Narrating it all is the delightfully eccentric Tassel/Viktor, portrayed by Romanesque Ishitobi "TOBI" of the Paris-based Les Romanesques. I was utterly confused by his presence at first, wondering why there needed to be a narrator when the story would've been perfectly fine without it. He even got a special spot in the opening despite having no stake in the plot despite seeming to live in Wonderworld, who the hell is this guy? But then I thought "OH MY GOD, HE'S THE MAIN VILLAIN USING TOUMA AS THE HERO IN HIS OWN TWISTED STORY, THE BASTARD". I thought it'd be some subversion of expectations, true form, "That Was His Mistake!" shit. Trust me, it made a lot more sense in my head. I'm very happy that they didn't do that, as I grew to love having male Yuuka Kazami as my narrator, and when he was shown to be actually important by being friends with Yuri my mind was blown. And doubly so when I realized just how deeply necessary to the plot he really is.

Rintaro/Blades is up there as one of my all time favorite secondary Riders, since his curiosity is always consistently funny and adorable, his forms are all gorgeous and impressively designed, his relationships with Mei and Touma are absolutely sweet and compelling to see unfold, and his arcs about becoming willing to call out those he views as family and coming to terms with his feelings of inadequacy and both moving past and using them to strengthen himself are always great lessons to pass on to kids. ...even if they took like 10 goddamn episodes to be conveyed in what could've been 5, but hey, Takaya Yamaguchi does a stand-up job all throughout. Rider veteran Eitoku's refined, almost logical movements with the Suiseiken Nagare absolutely beautiful to see in action, and his final form having the same white and blue color scheme as Zooous's base form is an amazing touch I don't see appreciated enough.

Mei Sudo's also absolutely wonderful, serving as the perfect emotional core of the story, responsible for most of the funniest lines, sweetest character moments, and some of the most deceptively compelling drama. Asuka Kawazu brings the perfect energy for such a dynamic and well rounded character, and absolutely nails her scenes of quiet turmoil. As much as I would've loved her to become a Rider, I don't think she really needed to. She's already done so much to help, and as cool as it would've been to see her pick up a sword and fight alongside them as Espada, Calibur, or Falchion she's already endeared herself to me as one of my favorite supporting characters in the whole franchise.

I can't get enough of my homeboy Kento Fukamiya/Espada. Like Rintaro and everyone else for that matter, he also suffers from Saber's pacing issues; and like his predecessor Valkyrie from Zero-One, he doesn't get a proper upgrade aside from his Wonder Combo, instead becoming an anti-villain using a completely different powerset and shifting the Raimeiken Ikazuchi out of focus for the Ankokuken Kurayami, and I feel there's a serious missed opportunity to see him use Jaaku Dragon with Alangina. However, Ryo Aoki's performance is probably among the most easily praiseworthy in the whole cast, managing to convey both Kento's kind and knightly stoicism as Espada and his emotionally unstable despair as Calibur perfectly, in conjunction with Yuji Nakata's experienced and expressive stuntwork.

Ren Akamichi/Kenzan's a dark horse favorite for sure. I remember back when Saber was first picking up, people hated this breezy mad lad for being such a simple character at first. Overly concerned with strength? Black and white world view? Annoyingly energetic? Agh, real-feeling character flaws, I hate them, get him away from me! But then y'all came crawling back. Eiji Togashi's apparently a bit of a rookie actor, and it really shows with some stilted delivery and the way he sometimes bobs his head when giving his lines, but man he improves dramatically as the series goes on. His inexperience ironically ends up really selling his character development, and his unexpectedly beautiful relationship with Desast is special evidence of that. The Fuusouken Hayate's three modes and Satoshi Fujita putting them to excellent use through his stellar acrobatic movements are also really cool.

Why did Luna have to be a child for so long? Does Wonderworld not age whoever inherits its power? Well since Luna randomly becomes an adult in Super Hero Senki and some of the final episodes, I guess so? Miku Okamoto does a fine job for a kid actor, but she's basically done all the heavy lifting for the whole series and doesn't give Mayuu Yokota enough time to get a feel for her character as an adult. How did she choose Touma to inherit the power anyway? Does she just subconsciously decide to trust him with it upon seeing how kind and passionate about storytelling he is? Well if that's the case, why didn't Kento get at least some of that power too? He's just as important to the merchan- I mean Luna-chan, isn't he? Why did Tassel pick her over someone who isn't a literal child who'd be understandably terrified about basically becoming an embodiment of storytelling?

Sophia also kinda suffers from the same problems. Rina Chinen's voice is very pleasant to listen to, but she doesn't really do much beyond serving as a source of exposition and support. I think her dynamic with Mei's adorable, and given her kindness I can certainly understand the respect Northern Base has for her, but she doesn't really contribute a whole lot. If she could use the Kurayami and become Calibur all this time, then why didn't she take it from Kento and Yuri and do so earlier when Kento decided to go back to being Espada? I know she's not much of a fighter and as the closet thing the Sword of Logos has to a leader after Isaac's death I'd understand not wanting to put her at risk, but considering Storious is destroying the world, and she's very evidently kicking a lot of ass in the first part of the final battle even in the basic Jaaku Dragon form, I think it would've helped a lot, just sayin'. Tassel at least has the excuse of being unable to interact with the real world, but Sophia obviously didn't just be put in charge of Northern Base just because she's a pawn in Isaac's plans right?

Ryou Ogami/Buster is also a victim of the disjointed character focus. I have no problem believing he's an excellent father and fighter thanks to Yuki Ikushima and Jiro Okamoto, respectively, but he feels a bit flat and simple in comparison. His rivalry with Desast is randomly dropped, his wife doesn't even show up until the final episodes, he's kinda sidelined in terms of action a whole lot. I imagine that must've sucked for the Rider Dads out there. He does get to star in his own manga, and that was pretty good, so I guess I can't be too mad.

Tetsuo Daishinji/Slash fares better though. Hiroaki Oka, being a Kamen Rider fanboy himself, manages to make him among the most relatable characters in the series. Not only are his hyperfixation on swordsmithing and anxiety played surprisingly believably, Hirotsugu Mori letting him cut loose is extremely cathartic and hilarious, and you really feel for him when the Onjuuken Suzune becomes the first victim of Calibur!Kento's sword sealing.

Yuri/Saikou's another dark horse favorite, for me at least. "Oh great, Avalon guy's got even more merchandise to sell, I wonder what his Sword of Light is- it's himself. Well... that's different." I admit, I didn't like him at first. He felt like he was there to fill out character dynamics in the absence of both Rintaro and Kento, I thought his gimmick was too silly even if his design and jingles were bangers, I didn't particularly care for his power set. But then XSwordman came around I totally got it. He's an endearing, hard-working man trying his best to catch up on all the cool shit he missed, unafraid of experimentation, ready to throw down at a moment's notice, serving as a wonderful bit of consistent support for our heroes, a truly knightly individual, an absolute Chad. and goddamn does he make me worry. Tomohiro Ichikawa, I salute you good sir.

Even if they fall short compared to the rest of the cast, the Shindai siblings are at least cool enough to not wanna write out entirely. They kinda devolve into comic relief after they become allies, something that villainous Riders from Chase onwards are very prone to doing, and it's especially awkward in their case because I think that they kinda get off scot-free for obeying the obviously sinister and crazy Isaac for so long, as well as driving a wedge between a lot of people and threatening children in Reika's case. I think their sibling dynamic is nice though, even if Fukuda recycled it from Makoto and Kanon and has some... questionable possessive undertones as a result. It's cool how they're basically foils to Touma and Rintaro though. The dispassionate and methodical Reika/Sabela is beautifully played by Angela Mei and her moments of emotional depth are fascinating to watch. Her Rider form is a thing of beauty, and its use of literal the Eneiken Noroshi's smokescreens and Yuki Miyazawa's precise and deadly stinging strikes are a joy to watch. And while Ken Shonozaki's not given the best direction as the undercooked plate of 7-Eleven fried fish that is Ryoga/Durendal, he manages to sell him as an experienced and hardened warrior with an awkward side that's especially evident in the Zenkaiger specials. His goddamn RWBY weapon that is the Jikokuken Kaiji is absolutely sick, I'm a sucker for transforming weapons and its combination of time and water powers is really cool, especially with Yasuhiko Amai's deliberate and forceful acting in the suit.

Daichi Kamijo/the Second Calibur, for as brief as his story was, was a pretty cool starter villain. Hiroyuki Hirayama brings this poor bastard to life in a genuinely touching way. I love how as Calibur he goes full force on his creative use of Wonder Ride Books for attacks, and his debut as Jaou Dragon got my blood pumping. His end is also deeply tragic, and I really felt for him when he realized just how badly he fucked up. Hayato Fukamiya also does wonders for the backstory, and while he also doesn't get much to work with, Mitsuru Karahashi makes his regrets and love for Kento feel genuine.

Legeiel and Zooous are both very intimidating and entertaining villains. On top of being just the right balance of goofy and threatening, Kairu Takano and Koji Saikawa's stage presences are both very strong, and their mixture of camaraderie and in-fighting is extremely believable. Zooous's rivalry with Rintaro feels incredible to see through to the end, and although Legeiel doesn't get quite the same treatment, Elemental Dragon had such a cool debut that it more than makes up for it. Their final fights are also absolute spectacles. I don't think their sympathetic angle works even close to as well as it does with MetsubouJinrai or even the Gamma, but I get it, power corrupts, and you probably feel a lot of sadness and regret for things you've done when you die unless you're a right bastard.

Isaac/Master Logos/Solomon is kinda generic. As wonderful as Keisuke Soma is, he doesn't get much dimension to work with. The result of that is while he nails being as smug and punchable as possible, he feels almost... comically generic. Genta Umemori from Shinkenger was full of personality! He was also basically some guy, but he was fun, he felt connected to the rest of the cast! Meanwhile the only real time we get to see Isaac's depth is when we see him crying over his failures. I almost appreciate him being unapologetically evil though, since I've seen way too many shows where redeemed villains get off scot free for way worse things, and some where they outright demand you to sympathize with them despite them doing nothing to warrant it.

Bahato/Falchion surprises me by not just being a movie villain whose actions affect the main plot, but also being a movie villain who actually gets to appear in series as a recurring threat! ...and it's not a particularly great showing on his part, sadly. Masashi Taniguchi does a wonderful job with what he's given, but his character feels like a retread of Eternal without any of what made Katsumi Daido a compelling and frightening villain. I'd like to believe Yuri when he says that he used to be a good person and a hero to the people, but I can only hear so many anime villain monologues about the pointlessness of life and the beauty of destruction before I can never take them seriously again. ...I think that's his biggest problem, actually. I thought he was an overall uninteresting and generic villain in the movie, and the cartoon nihilist he's shown to be in series is only a small step up. He still feels like filler. If only there were a far better written and much cooler villain who takes on the Mumeiken Kyomu after his de--

Desast is probably one of the finest anti-villains I've ever seen in recent years. On top of an absolutely badass character design and the excellent combination of Kazuya Okada/Danki Sakae's suit work and Koki Uchiyama's stellar voice acting, his story being so thoroughly intertwined with Ren's makes their shared journey and bromance a borderline Shakespearean tragedy. His struggle for identity despite Storious treating him as nothing more than a failed experiment and the Sword of Logos treating him as a mere monster really gripped me, and the way he uses what little time he has left to encourage Ren into blossoming on his own is absolutely beautiful. I think his enmity with Ogami is criminally underexplored in series, considering he killed several of the previous Riders and how Ogami's in desperate need of screentime.

Then there's our main villain, Kamen Rider Storious. Robin Furuya brings an incredible amount of charisma to this character, expertly portrayed as both a sinister, manipulative bastard , and as a lonely, tragic figure that arguably makes him feel even more villainous. Speaking as a struggling writer myself, it's easy to feel stuck in the idea of "fuck it, who cares, maybe everything is predestined", but I can't imagine what it's like to know that as the truth and carry it with you for all that time. All of your grand ideas have roots from your experiences, and you're not the only one who even could have those experiences. It's easy to just fall into despair and give up trying, but would that make you happy? Sure, Storious is sadistic, he may be fulfilling his goals, he may be ungodly powerful... but it's not enough for him, is it? All of his friends are gone, one of them even at his own hand, he probably doesn't have any idea what to do after he destroys all the world's stories, Touma even reached his full power before he did, and his downfall is so predictable that even a blind person could see it. He even seems to welcome it, what's up with that? But then I realized... OH MY GOD, HE'S THE MAIN VILLAIN USING TOUMA AS THE HERO IN HIS OWN TWISTED STORY, THE BASTARD. He's so far gone, he's so desperate to stick it to the Almighty Book, he's willing to twist the archetype of the Hero's Journey so hard, it snaps in two. What I think is interesting is that he's ironically trying to chase the trend of "edgy superhero story" that became super popular in the 21st century. The Boys, Brightburn, Kamen Rider Amazons, The Sentry, No More Heroes, Magical Girl Site, even mainstream comics from DC and Marvel... Surely Storious must've seen the cruelty and tragedy these stories are filled with, but he chooses to go through with trying to force the world into this direction anyway. Did they, along with seeing the ever-popular tragedies of legendary playwrights and bleak satire of the twentieth century fuel his despair?

And yet... there's one who stands in determination against his ideals.

Our hero, Touma Kamiyama, the titular Kamen Rider portrayed by Syuichiro Naito and Kousuke Asai, he speaks to me on a personal level. There're plenty of jokes to be made about his procrastination in early chapters, his godless fashion sense, and him doing the funny run up the slope, that's all fine and dandy, but I rarely feel so connected to a character the way I did Touma. The struggle to create, find companionship, live your life, reach out to others... these're things a lot of people struggle with, and of course you see them depicted a lot in media about creators, but Saber gets to the root of what the greatest thing about storytelling really is. Giving people hope, while using the pain of the past as fuel for the future. Sure, Storious may be right about how every story has been done as far back as human civilization gets, he may even be right about how any spin or creativity humanity has is outright predestined. It should be pointless to even try, right? That's where Touma Kamiyama disagrees. He didn't spend all that time fighting and creating just to give up at the idea of predestination. His novel writing-fueled creativity in his early training, his devotion to his friends that let him surpass Kamijo as Dragonic Knight, his compassion for the Primitive Dragon that let him combine their powers to destroy Legeiel as Elemental Dragon, his resolve that let Xross Saber dethrone Solomon, and his passion for the craft of storytelling that let our heroes channel their wishes into Wonder Almighty... all stemming from the belief imparted onto him by his predecessor that "Hope lies beyond your resolution." And that you decide how your story ends. He may not be the greatest Rider to some, he may be as lame as others think he is, he may not even be my favorite, but I have no issue calling Touma Kamiyama... Kamen Rider Saber, one of the all time greatest carriers of the Kamen Rider name.

The final chapter's definitely not as great as some other Rider finales, but goddamn. Primitive Dragon consciously choosing to save Touma is so sweet and such a great emotional payoff, I loved jamming out to the opening theme while our boys lay the smackdown on Storious. Wonder Almighty's a fitting final bit to close the main series out with, if not exactly a great one. I think the cover is great, and the book's body is a lovely shade of candy apple red, but I really don't like how its pages are just the covers of the other books copy-pasted onto onto the pages, that feels lazy. Maybe if it were a panorama of all the books' characters, I'd like it a lot more as a symbol of how unified the Swordsmen are, but eh, what can you do? On a related note, does this mean all the "last episode extra final forms" of the Reiwa Era are gonna be named after their series's opening? That's a neat idea.

I felt a lot of feelings seeing all those video messages of Rider fans all across Japan talking about their favorite stories, and how their passion and fond memories help reshape the world. Mei's monologue at the ceremony about is also really touching and- IS THAT A HUMAGEAR!? :O

Y-yeah dude, it is! Wow, where have you guys been for the past 48 episodes?! Are you guys doing okay? How come you're like... the only one here? Is the technology of Hiden Intelligence only really that prevalent in that very specific metropolitan part of Japan and they're just not coming around much over here? Is it like Dragon Ball where anthropomorphic animals are just vibin' with humans while the heroes are off kicking ass? Apparently he's played by Hasegawa Keiichi, who wrote this episode and had the award ceremony named after him. ...is Hasegawa Keiichi a HumaGear in this universe then? Did he set up this award ceremony in Touma's honor? If so, why is it named after him? Did reading one of Touma's books lead to his Singularity? I know this is just a cameo, but... god, I have so many questions that probably will never be satisfactorily answered.

Overall, if I had to compare Saber to anything, it'd probably be Sam Reimi's Spider-Man trilogy. It's awkward, stupid, overwrought, undercooked, illogically written, scattershot, cheesy as fuck, and has a tendency to squander its otherwise fine execution; but the sheer passion for storytelling, sense of spectacle, deeply fascinating characters, and belief in the ideals set forth by the cast, crew, and fans are absolutely admirable. Improvements would certainly make it an overall better experience, to be sure, but there's something deeply captivating about how wonky this series is. Seeing everybody get their happy ending after all they've been through felt extremely gratifying though, and I may have to wait another for the epilogue to and then wait for Revice, but... man. I'm hella proud of our awkwardly-emoting, fashion disaster novelist and all of his heavily flawed friends for carrying the Kamen Rider name on to the future. Here's hoping Revice will keep it going.

Alright, that's everything I wanted to talk about. Sorry this was so long and ramble-y, I had a lot to say. I'll probably be liveblogging Revice as episodes of that come out, so... look forward to that, I guess. See ya.

#kamen rider saber #long post #tsuki talks #personal #kamen rider #whew #ok bye have a nice day

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lilyrachelcassidy · 4 years

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Summer Nights (1)

A/N: Welcome to the first chapter of my new and long time awaited series - Summer Nights. Please read every necessary information in the INDEX of the story (warnings, summary). Do not forget that the fic is quite mature and might contain some obscene stuff (i.a. alcohol and sexual items). I’ll try to post each chapter regularly (like one per week?) however as it sometimes turns out - I can be unreliable in that matter ( ;

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: coarseness, poverty problems, swearing, alcohol and sexual items (or rather mentions of them?), reference to arranged marriage

Tags: @okaydraco @idkatee @paradigmax @winnsmills @war-sword

You turned your gaze away from a computer screen and looked yearningly out of the window on the chaotic streets of Paris.

At that time of day, the city seemed to teem with life, especially in the summer season when many tourists came over to visit the town. You could notice a variety of cultures among crowds of people. They gathered and filled in restaurants, eating and laughing, and chatting with each other.

So how, for God’s sake, did you deserve to be at work today?

The thought of scrumptious spaghetti and a glass of red wine made you feel frustrated. And cloudless, wonderful weather waiting for you outside did not make it any better. You imagined yourself laying in a bikini on the sandy beach with ‘Vogue’ magazine on your laps and Pina Colada in your hands. Or bathing in warm ocean water with sun rays smoothly tanning your skin.

These visions caused a dreamy smile to appear on your face.

However, as soon as you scooted over in a fantasy world, the poke in your shoulder brought you back to reality. You turned your head to the side to see your co-worker and best friend, Chloe. She was crouching next to your chair with her piercing gaze studying your face attentively.

Chloe was a gorgeous woman, and you could easily say that she could break more than one heart. She had big, blue eyes and long, blonde curls falling on her slim shoulders. She had full, pink lips with a Greek-type nose and prominent cheekbones that highlighted her beauty. Her figure was feminine and slender with ample bosom, flat belly, and long legs.

There had been many situations when groups of passing-by boys stopped her in the middle of the pavement, scanning her body up and down with boisterous whistles and comments of a sexual nature. Although you had always tried to stand up in her defense, she never really cared to bother much, just shrugging it off.

“Are you alright?” She narrowed her eyes doubtfully. “You look like a walking dead.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled amused, bitting your cheek. “No, I’m actually fine. Just a little bit dizzy, but don’t worry about it. ”

“For sure? You know, if you take a nap at work, I might be the first person to know about it.” both of you chortled slightly, and you rested your elbows on the armrest. Chloe’s phone started to buzz in her purse. She took it out, muted it down, and eyed you again.

“Anyways. Why are you leaving so early? It’s just four o’clock, and I thought you were ending your shift at eight.” You peeked at the watch on your hand and arched your eyebrow suspiciously at her. Now it was your turn to interrogate her.

“Well, I took a day off,” she informed you. “I’m having a date with Louis today. We meet at six, and he takes me to some fancy restaurant. Of course, he didn’t want to tell me the exact location, mentioning something about ruining the surprise. You know him..” She rolled her eyeballs playfully with a meaningful sigh and an unambiguous smile plastered on her face.

Louis was Chloe’s boyfriend, but also one of your closest friends. You couldn’t say he was the easy-going type of person, and when you first met him, you had presumed his behavior to be a little bit too ‘self-centered’. However, after many years of acquaintance, you had learned that he was rather desperate to drag attention on himself and impress others, with you and Chloe included.

“Lucky. I’m stuck in here for a night shift,” you complained, leaning on the chair's backrest and letting a small groan out of your mouth. It was the third time this week you had to stay at your job for night time. And that wore you out.

“Again?” She frowned.

“Unfortunately...” You grimaced, glancing at your friend with a corner of your eye. “My father hasn’t paid the bills again. I’ve to earn some extra money…"

"Can I-"

"I know you want to help, but please, let's not think about it," you cut the conversation out. Your face started to get warmer, so you lowered your head as not to show your embarrassment. You trusted your friend with all of your soul but still more than felt awkward when it came up with family topics.

Chloe remained silent and smiled supportively, tightly gripping your palm. You appreciated her ability to understand people’s emotions and her tact of how to respond to them.

“I really have to go, Y/N. Call me if you needed any help.” Chloe stood up and went to the backroom of the reception. She put on her coat, wrapping her green bandana around her neck, and then slightly pecked your cheek. She walked over to the exit and, for the last time, turned towards you, waved in the bye, and left the hotel.

You gaped at the place where Chloe had just disappeared, slowly letting out your breath. After a while, you switched the laptop back on and decided to occupy yourself with reading. Clicking on the ‘iBooks’ application, you selected a book - ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’. Maybe, at least that could help you take your mind off things and spend some of your time while visitors weren’t around. You opened the first chapter of the novel, but soon after, you heard someone entering the room again.

Lifting your head, you beheld an elegant woman with a younger boy by her side. You assumed them to be a family, considering their striking similarity in appearance. Also, they distinguish themselves from their surroundings with their peculiarly sophisticated garments and unnaturally pale skin.

The woman smiled at you kindly and approached the reception desk. You got up from the chair and reciprocated the gesture.

“Bonjour madame. Comment puis-je vous aider?” you asked and saw a confused expression painting on the woman’s face. She furrowed her eyebrows for a short moment and cleared her throat.

“Mm… Hello. Do you speak English?” she asked hesitantly with a language accent that informed you instantly of her origin. Many guests of the hotel usually arrived from different parts of the world, which had let you acquire the skill of guessing their probable nationalities.

“You’re British I see,” you noted, grinning. “Of course I do. Welcome to Paris! How can I help you?”

“We have a reservation under the name Malfoys.”

Nodding in understanding, your fingers swiftly started to tap the keyboard of the computer. You entered in the search engine of hotel’s guests with surname ‘MALFOYS’ and found a booking for two people.

“Could I check your ID cards first, ma’am?” you asked and saw her rummaging in the bag. Meanwhile, you started to prepare every necessary paper for her to fill out.

“Here it is,” she finally stated, and you reached over for the documents. You noticed the woman’s foot nervously tapping on the floor but decided to ignore it.

“Thank you,” you said while surveying everything. “Okay, so - Narcissa Malfoy, apartment number 354 - Presidential Suite. It’s on the fourth floor.” You laid the keys with ID cards on a counter top. “And Dra- Dra…”

“Draco. It’s Draco Malfoy,” the boy spoke up for the first time, and - by the tone of his voice - you could already judge that he wasn’t the friendliest type of a person, to say at least. You moved your gaze on his figure, and your eyes met with his stern glare, which sent unpleasant shivers down your spine. He was sitting on one of the lounge chairs located in the room, twisting a carved stick in his fingers. Quickly realizing that you stared at the object, he hid it in his pocket.

You giggled nervously and shook your head.

“Yes. Draco Malfoy. I’m sorry for my oversight.” You blushed profusely and tried your best to pretend that your pre-momentary blunder did not affect you anyhow. You took a second key from a shelf and placed it next to the first one. “Room number 355 - Royal Apartment. Although, it on the fifth floor, which means not located nearby your mom's one, sir."

“No problem for me.” Huffing, he got up from the armchair and walked over, grabbing the keys. His expression still evinced the arrogance, but now you had a chance to examine his appearance more closely and perceive his unparalleled attractiveness. His platinum hair suitably contrasted with grey irises, and the sharp jawline with his muscular body made your knees weak.

Just great...

“If there is anything you needed, please let me know,” you proffered and forced a smile, wishing it didn’t look so fake as it felt. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you,” said Narcissa, sauntering away with her son following shortly after. You took a last peek at Draco and saw him sending you an unpleasant look before leaving the lobby.

* * *

Narcissa with Draco entered her spacious hotel room. She began to look around the space, smacking her lips in delight. After that, she sat gingerly on her bed and discretely ran her fingers through the bedding set so as to verify its fabric. Draco knew and was accustomed to his mother’s atypical habit of checking the quality of things before using them.

She patted a place next to her, encouraging him to take a seat. He just pressed his lips into a straight line and only shook his head.

“Draco, let’s talk,” she started, grunting.“I think you should - at least - consider being tolerant of those muggles. I know it is a tough period of our lives, after the war...” Narcissa shuddered at the reference of that event and her eyes filmed over a little. “But it is time to move on. Wizarding World is not going to be this same for many years. That’s why for this vacation, I wanted us to come to the place that could let you dispose of redundant memories and experien-”

“Dispose of memories?” Draco cut her off and huffed, leaning flippantly against the wall. His voice was very tight and harsh.“How do you think I could possibly get rid of them? Maybe Dark Mark on my forearm would help me solve that issue? Or Obliviate spell would be a solution?”

At once, the blood was boiling in his veins. He didn’t blame his mother for decisions of the past, but he could not stop himself from snapping. A recollection of tortures he had had to perform on others, of tortures he had had to bear himself, of incurred deaths he had seen… and committed. That wasn’t a fleeting thing to forget.

Narcissa took a deep breath and ignored her son’s snarky comment. She decided not to give up with the plan of their conversation for this evening. So and so, he had to finally hear the truth, right?

“I and your father with Greengrass family established that by the end of this year, you are going to propose to one of their daughters.” She gazed at him, partly expecting the next outburst of emotions. Although Draco’s ears began dangerously reddening, she assumed the silence was a non-verbal acquiescence for her to continue. “You do not have to worry about arrangements for the nuptials, nor about other wedding cases. Everything is going to be organized. And I deeply believe that marring one of those beautiful girls might bring a state of contentment in your life.”

Draco gulped down his saliva and fixed his eyes on the floor, his face expressing wrath.

“I’m sorry mother, but I’ve no idea how marrying a person who I’ve hardly ever talked to could make me any happier.”

“Dear, me and Lucius did not fall in love at first sight either. Nevertheless, we accepted the unusual plight that we were put in, and then we got accustomed to leading our new, joint lifestyle,” she explained, carefully choosing her words. “And I am aware that it must be hard for you. So and it was for me. But now, I could not imagine it to be any different.”

“Well then, if you felt this same way as I do right now, please tell me why are you expecting this same from me by imposing the marriage? Why can’t I choose someone to fall in love with?”

Good point.

Narcissa seemed to be momentarily speechless by his question because there was an awkward, uncomfortable pause for a long moment. Draco sniggered loudly and turned away to leave, but before doing so, his mom’s voice echoed in the room again.

“Love is only a matte-“ she took her last try to argue, her tone rather desperate.

“I don’t care!” he yawped, turning the knob and slamming the door behind him with a violent bang.

Draco headed over to search for a bar where he could abreact the minute-ago conversation. The tension of his body was unbearably upsetting, and his heart was pounding aggressively in his rib cage. His fists clutched tightly, knuckles becoming white and teeth clenched.

Fuck his parents.

Fuck them with their shitty ideas.

When would be a time for him to be able to determine his own opinions about matters in his life? Or rather, the doubt is - would there ever be that time?

Before he knew it, he found himself in this same lobby where he had been an hour ago. As he walked over to the recently encountered receptionist, he spotted her writing something vigorously on an odd, square box. As to not arise any suspicion, he decided to act casually and hide his enticing interest in this particular... object.

Soon enough, you noticed the blond-haired boy and realized it was the man from earlier. A bump formed in your throat, and you fought a sudden urge to run away. Instead, you just set your phone aside and lifted yourself up, all your muscles refusing to do this same activity for the thousandth time this day (‘Is this some kind of aerobic or what?!’).

“Is there something I could help with, sir?” you asked with a smile, trying to remain calm, which was an exceptionally intractable task in this boy’s presence. Maybe as an effect of tiredness, it was hard for you to compose, but you did not like it a bit.

“Yes, actually.” At least he took his best effort to be polite. Although a horrible exasperation, as if something pained him, still convulsed his features. “I wondered if there was a place where I could have some Firewhisky or so?”

‘Firewhisky?’ you thought. ‘Is it some kind of British dainty?’

“Well, for sure I haven’t heard of heating up Whisky before,” you joked, attempting to lighten things up. However, his glare gave you a hint he was definitely not put in a mood for such things.“But there is a pub where you could have a drink, sir. It’s on the opposite street, so all you need to do is to cross over a road.”

Draco nodded. "Oh, and one more thing." He reached over to the inner pocket of his sable jacket and took out an ornamental envelope with an old-fashioned red seal on the top of it. "If the woman who I was with before starts looking after me, hand her over this letter, could you?"

You didn't know where an uninvited rush of interest hailed from, but the mystery-insatiate part of your brain screamed out at you to play along with his cards to winkle out more information. "What if she asks me questions? Shoul-"

"Bend the truth. I only ask you to do one thing for me. Don't reveal to her where or when I went. I gave you the envelope and disappeared out of your sight. Understood, muggle?"

You didn't grasp the last part of his sentence; the one concerning --mugel? meagul? megull? -- but you could bet it meant to be an insult. Swallowing your suspicious hunch, you put on a sympathetic smile. "Sure can do, sir. Hope you have a good night out."

"Thanks. Later." And without any other word, he strode away.

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mari-onberry · 4 years

Text

why does adrichat exist and why did i just write 1000 words about it--

Adrien never thought himself to be unaware of internet culture. Nino sent him more than his share of memes, and the internet was also mostly where he found all his anime to watch. It was hard to get some things past his dad, though, so he tried to limit his time on the computer as best he could. He had never ventured onto the side of the internet that held fanworks, but it was only a matter of time before he stumbled onto it: he was two of the most popular celebrities in Paris, after all. But, he only found out about “that side” of the internet when Alya started to link fanfiction on the Ladyblog.

The first time he saw fanfiction posted on the Ladyblog, it was Ladynoir, and Adrien had heard the portmanteau of his name and Ladybug before in the news, but this time it was a completely different context. Too squeamish to go through with it and open the link, Adrien resolved to ask Nino about it the next day in class.

So the next day, quiet as he could, Adrien whispered, “What’s fanfiction?”

Nino froze in place. He couldn’t conceive of a reason Adrien would be asking such a thing. “What?”

“Well, you know a lot about computers and the internet and stuff, so I thought you’d know. Plus, it was your girlfriend that posted a link to it.”

“Oh.” Nino said, finally understanding. “Okay, well, fanfiction is just stories written about fictional characters or celebrities.”

So that explained why it had included Chat Noir. Adrien deemed this “fanfiction” thing harmless, and actually kind of fun. He went back to his school work until another question popped into his head. “What’s ‘shipping’?”

This was getting on Nino’s nerves now: fandom was more his girlfriend’s thing after all, and he didn't want to get caught talking about fanfiction with his best friend. “It’s when fans want two people to be together,” He explained, and then added, “Romantically,” to clarify.

Well, that changed things. Sure, it made sense that people wanted him and Ladybug to be together, but it made him blush, and his mind kept wandering to the concept while he finished up his work.

The second he got home, he brought up Google and searched “Chat Noir fanfiction”. There were thousands of results, so this was going to take a while. As he scrolled through, he saw a couple patterns: most of them seemed to pair him with Ladybug (not to say there wasn’t a lack of Chat Noir and the other heroes, which he appreciated), there were a few authors whose names showed up pretty often, and they all actually seemed well written from what he could tell. He clicked on one of the names that showed up the most often, and looked through their works. The first one was similar to the others, a Ladynoir fic, but the next entry was Carapace and Chat Noir. Adrien’s face turned red. He liked the idea of that.

The next entry was even more surprising, though, and made him even more embarrassed. Carapace and Adrien Agreste? So both of his identities had fanbases.

He clicked on the link leading to Adrien Agreste to see all the fics involving his civilian persona, and although there was significantly less, there were still a couple hundred. He wasn’t aware models got this sort of attention.

The pairings for Adrien were also different than he had expected. Sure, there was still a lot of shipping him with Ladybug, which made him happy, but then he came across something totally unexpected: Chat Noir paired with Adrien Agreste. He almost laughed out loud at how absurd that was. He clicked on the story and read the first few sentences-- it was actually well written, and it somehow immersed him into the world the author created, even though that world was impossible. It was strange to see himself characterized so well in fiction.

The rest of the night, he scrolled through so much fan fiction of himself he began to lose count. There was actually a good amount of Chat and Adrien shippers, and he didn't mind it as much as he thought he should. It was fun to read, and it meant people weren’t caught on to the fact that they were the same person. By the end of the night, he even made his own and kudosed some of his favorite stories.

The next day, in class, everyone was buzzing about something and looking at their phones. Adrien had stayed up so late he hadn’t had enough time to check anything else including social media, so he felt a bit out of the loop. “What’s going on?” He whispered to Nino.

“Apparently someone claiming to be Chat Noir has been reading fanfiction of himself,” Nino explained, and although Adrien didn't understand who would do such a thing, he dropped the subject. The class seemed particularly excited, so he didn't want to ruin the fun. During lunch, when he got a moment to himself, he checked the fanfiction site to see if he could find this Chat Noir imposter. Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw at the top of the screen, his own user was signed in with the name ‘realchatnoir’. He panicked; he had accidentally made the account under Chat Noir’s name instead of Adrien. Somehow, he had gotten the two confused in his exhaustion-induced state.

Well, he could work with this.

School went well other than the buzz about the Chat Noir account, so when Adrien got home, he had a plan to remedy his problem. He got on to AO3 and posted a work with him in the full Chat Noir getup and everything (he made sure not to take it in his room), and included a caption explaining that he had stumbled upon fanfiction and had enjoyed a lot of it.

In a couple minutes, the post had already gotten a bunch of comments. The first one was by what seemed to be the official Ladyblog account confirming that it was a unique picture so the account was most likely genuine.

Then, he read many of the other comments flooding in. They all said something along the lines of “if this is the real Chat Noir, why did he kudos so many fanfics involving Adrien?” or “is Chat Noir actually in love with Adrien Agreste?”

Adrien panicked, but he tried to come up with the best solution. If he denied it, then people would be suspicious about Chat really being Adrien. He would have to embrace the madness.

Finally, he ended up commenting, “I may have a soft spot for a certain model named Adrien Agreste”, and was suddenly single-handedly responsible for fans writing too much Adrichat fanfiction for him to ever possibly read. He just had no idea how he was going to explain this whole thing to Plagg.

#help its 1 am but i couldnt stop writing this #adrichat #crack #send help #this is so cursed im sorry #miraculous ladybug

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

let me live (let me die)

Astolfo meets with Antonio, the head of the Florence chasseurs. It doesn’t go well.

Chapter 3/ ?

< Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 >

Content warning : mentioned character death, mentioned Moreau

This whole affair is, to Noé, quite reminiscent of his days with Vanitas. The entrance to the chasseurs’ headquarters is, just as in Paris, under the cathedral, though they don’t access it, this time, through a hidden switch.

No, it’s a plain old wooden door, which he supposes is the main entrance, and since Astolfo has a key on him they don’t have to sneak in.

It’s also an old key, and the state of it makes Noé thinks it’s at least thirty years old, maybe even older. Scratched and damaged, though not rusty, it looks well taken care of. Remnants of an old cord looped around the bottom of it shows that it might have been worn as a necklace once. Yet, old and scratched as it is, it does the job it’s supposed to do and opens the door, revealing stone steps going down in the darkness.

Astolfo leads him down the stairs and to the city’s underground. The quiet whispering of the city at night fades into the background, leaving them with a strange, unsettling silence filled only with the sound of their footsteps.

It’s almost as if the whole place is empty.

Astolfo seems to know his way, walking with confidence and speeding through the hallways like he’s done this every day of his life.

“You have been here before, haven’t you?”

He nods stiffly. “I grew up here. The chasseurs in my family were historically based in Florence. My father took my sister and I to headquarters many times when we were children." He falls silent as they turn into another hallway, leaving Noé to guess.

As children. Noé catches himself thinking of a young Astolfo, smaller and rounder faced, running with an even smaller girl along those cold, empty stone corridors. Laughing, maybe, even though he has trouble imagining what Astolfo's genuine laughter sounds like.

Then, Astolfo stops walking, eyeing another door at the end of the corridor. He stares at it, before turning back to Noé, hesitant. “You keep quiet,” he ends up ordering, keeping his voice low. “I don’t want a vampire to ruin my chances to get information, and I don’t trust you not to wander off.”

Noé doesn’t need to be here when Astolfo is negotiating, but he remembers the look on his face as he asked if he was sure the chasseurs would help. As Astolfo hissed that he had friends, defensive, in a way that makes Noé think it's much more complicated than he pretends. To be perfectly honest, Astolfo is difficult to like on his best days, and Noé has a hard time picturing him having friends.

So, he simply acquiesces, though the former chasseur eyes him suspiciously.

There is no denying there is something reassuring in having backup when being about to have a talk with Antonio, of all people.

Antonio used to be family. Astolfo remembers, as a child, the man lifting him and carrying him up on his shoulders, then the two of them racing his father and Marco down the headquarters' corridors. He remembers with clarity playing hide and seek with Louisette, Isa, and Antonio in the archives, squeezing himself into small spaces, holding back giggles, waiting to be discovered. Antonio and Marco coming over for diner as guests of the Granatum household, hugging his mother, clapping shoulders with his father.

He’s been tempted, several times, to go looking for the Granatum family house, where his parents and Louisette are buried. To this day, he still hasn’t gathered the nerves to actually do it. To walk back on this old path, to look upon his abandoned, probably now decrepit home, to stand before what remains of his family, is something he doesn't feel strong enough to do yet. Maybe, once he's done, while the vampires he led into his own house as an overly trusting child are dead, he will be able to stand before their graves.

Still, somehow, after everything, Florence feels a little like home. The soft chatter of the crowd around him in his native tongue is familiar, the city's air lifts his spirit and takes him back to simpler, happier times.

A distracted grunt answers Astolfo when he knocks. He takes it as an invitation to come in and pushes the door open, slipping into Antonio’s office with the vampire behind him.

Antonio sits behind his desk, in full uniform, sword resting against the arm of his chair, which means he's ready to leave, either for a simple patrol or a larger operation. He quickly riffles through several papers, which he settles to the side when Astolfo comes in.

It feels like forever since he stood there. Yet it was only six months ago, though their meeting was brief and the consequences dire. Before that time, he was twelve years old when he was last called into this office, just a few months after losing his family, right before leaving for France and not expecting to set foot in this room ever again.

Antonio was not happy to see him months ago, after the mess in Paris, and he will not be happy to see him today, that much is obvious. Astolfo shoves his gloved hands in his pocket, nervous, trying to reassure himself.

Friend, he called the man when talking about him to the vampire, but it’s a bit of a stretch considering how their last conversation went. Considering everything . He tries to look surer of himself than he really is in front of the Archiviste, but he will not be surprised if Antonio is mad at him. He has good reason to be — and, to be fair, Astolfo has a good reason to be mad at Antonio too.

But Antonio is also the only one who can point him in the right direction so Astolfo swallows his pride, hoping he’ll share what he knows, if only to get him out of his office faster.

“Good evening,” he says.

“I’m glad to meet one of Astolfo’s friends!” The vampire smiles brightly. I’m Noé—” he stops himself when Antonio looks up, and scowls.

“You again?” He also raises an eyebrow at Noé Archiviste’s presence, though doesn’t comment on it, focused on Astolfo. “What do you want?”

If Astolfo isn’t surprised by the tone, the vampire falters, smile dropping, and he sends Astolfo an uncertain glance. Are you sure? it seems to wonder.

“The same as during our last meeting: the last known whereabouts of the Chevalier Ténèbre.”

The man tenses, standing it up and walking around his desk. He’s tall — way taller than Astolfo, probably taller than the Archiviste — so he has to tilt his head back to keep looking at him in the eyes. Being on his shoulders used to be like sitting on top of the world, his head almost brushing against the ceiling and his forehead knocking on the lowest doorframes by accident.

“Do you realize what mess you’ve caused here, Astolfo?”

This time Astolfo winces, and he feels the vampire tense up at his side.

“Astolfo—” he starts, but Astolfo shakes his head no. He stays quiet.

Marco and Antonio were always, to Astolfo, very similar. First, because they were brothers —he can still find Marco’s gentle features and kind disposition in Antonio. They also both were among the first to give him the chance to have his revenge, to support him when he asked to be a chasseur.

Antonio signed the papers that would send him up to Paris. Marco, unable to stand seeing him leave on his own, followed. They both saw him, at twelve years old, determined to become a chasseur. Now, at nineteen years old, Astolfo stands before Antonio, a vampire in tow.

“You knew where to find him six months ago; can you tell me where he is now?” He stops for a second or two, then adds: “Please.”

“I don’t know,” Antonio drawls out. “Are you planning to go after him on your own, ruin a chasseur operation several months in the making, and come very close to getting yourself killed? In that case, it’s a no.”

Next to him, the vampire startles, but before he can try to say anything again Astolfo snaps back:

“I’m healed now. I have— I can take him. Just tell me—”

“You’re not a chasseur, boy. You were stripped of that title for a reason . Good God, the only reason you are walking free is because someone insisted you were a child and were manipulated and chose to do the right thing in the end.” He scoffs, and Astolfo is sure he can hear traces of rage and grief in his voice and can’t blame him for it. “Leave it to people who actually know what they’re doing.”

“That’s—”

“Quiet,” Astolfo cuts him, shoving his elbow into the vampire’s ribs. His stomach turns and his breath comes out short, and his eyes burn with frustrated tears, because Antonio is, ultimately, right.

Astolfo trusted the wrong people. Astolfo made the wrong choices. Astolfo lost his title as a chasseur and thus every way he had to find his family’s murderers and it is his own fault.

Astolfo got Marco killed.

He can’t let it stop him. Not now, not after all these years — after all, what sense does it make to stop now? None. His revenge has been his goal for so long, past the vampire elimination and past the church's teachings.

“You know what,” he decides, turning to his vampire companion. “Wait for me in the corridor.”

“But—”

“This conversation doesn’t concern you.” There are so many things he doesn’t want him to know, some things that will be brought up today and he would rather not have to explain. Not now. Not ever. “I don’t want to talk about it.” This the vampire seems to understand, and he nods, although reluctant. He leaves the room, though not before sending Antonio a suspicious glare. "And don't wander off," Astolfo calls after him.

Once the vampire is gone, he faces Antonio again, who simply watched the exchange in silence. “A new friend, then?”

“Travelling companion,” Astolfo corrects. “One I can’t seem to shake off.”

“A vampire.”

“Don’t change the subject.” He takes in a deep breath. “You owe me this, Antonio.”

“How dare you?” Astolfo takes an instinctive step back as Antonio snaps at him, glowering. “Not only I already answered you once, and after you promised to be careful you still interfered. And even before that— After everything I did for you—”

Once again, Antonio is entirely right, but there is nothing in the world that'll make Astolfo admit it out loud. “I'm talking about Moreau," he snaps, and Antonio hesitates, paling. "You did not send me to Paris to become a chasseur and we both know it — I earned that title, through my own skills — because you were just as opposed to it as Roland! You sent me because Doctor Moreau asked.” He grimaces thinking back on what he saw and heard down there.

Thinking about ghostly boys, skinny and bruised. About the screaming.

Astolfo had been lucky. His marks, in a way, saved him.

The truth, and the point, in the end, were that Antonio lied. Antonio pretended to support him, pretended to understand why he needed to become a chasseur.

Antonio only sighs, tired. “I’m not going to argue with you on this now, Astolfo. I don't have the time. Now, leave the city before you interfere in another operation. If you want to argue, we can do it later.”

“I'm not going anywhere before you tell me about the Chevalier."”

Grabbing Astolfo’s arm, Antonio pulls him back towards the door. “Leave now,” he says again. “I don’t want to end up with a dead civilian on my hands. I don’t want you dead.”

“Don’t say that—”

The door slams shut behind him and Astolfo is back in the corridor, frustration making his blood boil. He has half a mind to turn around and kick the door down, but he forces himself to settle down.

Fighting more with Antonio won’t help. At least he didn’t take his key. Maybe he doesn’t even know Astolfo still has it, or he knows Astolfo won't separate himself from it. It's precious, not only in its usage — opening the door to the chasseurs' Headquarters — but also in its significance — the last thing Astolfo's father ever gave him, whispering in a conspirator's tone that one day, maybe, when he's bigger, he'll find some use for it.

“Let’s go,” he tells the Archiviste, and stops, staring out at the empty hallway. One if his eyebrows twitches. “Is this a joke?”

He walks back the way they first came from. He isn’t even sure the vampire knows how to go back outside, but hopefully he has the presence of mind not to wander off in here, of all places. Maybe he had to leave to avoid being caught — but then again it doesn't make sense, all he has to say is that he's with Astolfo, or that he wishes to meet with Antonio.

His pace quickens as he speeds up the stairs and leaves the building, only to find himself alone outside, on the side street where the back entrance is. Looking around, he still can’t find the vampire.

“Hey!” he calls out. No answer.

Maybe he finally understood that Astolfo doesn’t need him and he left.

The thought doesn’t sit that well with him.

He could have at least told him he was leaving.

“Noé?” He hates how hesitant his voice comes out.

Still, no answer. “Fine!” he snaps, stomping his foot on the ground in anger before striding back to the main street, not caring about sounding childish. “Good riddance. I don’t need you, and I hate you anyway!”

The main entrance of the cathedral is a little more crowded, with only a handful of people mingling around due to the late hour. None of them is the vampire, and Astolfo lets out an annoyed huff, leaving the square to walk back to the hotel.

It’s fine.

Tomorrow, he’ll find another way to get the information on the Chevalier Ténèbre and kill him on his own, like he’s been planning to do from the beginning.

It is fine.

“Well, isn’t that—”

The voice catches him off guard and he freezes — it’s not a voice he’s about to forget. His breath stutters and, when he looks up, it’s to a tall gentleman whose face is overshadowed by the brim of his top hat.

A pale hand gently pushes Astolfo’s hair back behind his ear, before flicking at his fang earring. It dangles without a sound, and the man grins. “That’s what I thought — I noticed it last time, but I couldn’t be sure.” His fingers close around it.

Sharp, stinging pain makes Astolfo hiss between his teeth as the jewelry is ripped off his ear, and he slaps the man’s hand away. His heart speeds up, echoing in his chest like it’s in a hollow cave, in a mix of fear and rage and excitation. “Chevalier.”

“This,” Jean Ténèbre simply says, charming smile still in place, holding the fang between now bloodstained fingers, “belonged to my brother. But I assume, Astolfo Granatum, that you already knew this.”

#vnc #vanitas no carte #astonoé #astolfoé #noe archiviste #astolfo granatum #writing #story: let me live (let me die)

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simplyyeol · 5 years

Text

what happens in paris

genre — soulmate! au, fluff, angst-ish

pairing — baby boy pcy x reader

word count — 10.085 what the fuck

warnings — language

description — you find yourself going on a trip to paris with your soulmate. it’s not too bad if you manage to overlook the fact that he hates your guts.

author’s note — hello! i don’t really know if i did this au well or not, but you know. me. back at it again with the cliches. sorry in advance, there is alot of cliche i hope it didn’t drag out too long i tried to incorporate a lot of thought bc character development! idk. also this might be my favorite thing i’ve written so far gahhd! yeah. anyways, enjoy! this took way longer than it should’ve

A smile bloomed on your face as you hopped out of the taxi, the driver coming around to help your excited state grab your luggage from the trunk. You politely said your thank you, bowing, having already paid in the car before practically skipping inside the terminal.

Checking your phone, the online check-in page of your ticket confirmation shown before you double-checked the text. You were at the right terminal, you thought. Nothing had gone wrong so far. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, before entering the airport.

The line for the online check-in was thankfully short as you passed through that with smiles. There was still two hours until your boarding time you noticed, stopping in the middle of the crowd, not certain on where to go next. Baekhyun had said he would meet you at the airport—you'd forgotten to ask him where and when.

That was when you saw Chanyeol.

Or he saw you. There was something in the air that made your eyes tear away from your screen, your finger hovering over Baekhyun's contact. Something made you drawn towards his broad figure, that made you catch his eye when his wardrobe was nothing special—it wouldn't have caught your eye given someone else was wearing the same thing. Then again, you pondered, he is your soulmate. Maybe he felt whatever it was too as his step faltered, taking you in, with no one surrounding you. If it weren’t for the mop of striking silver hair he’d dyed it earlier in the year, or his long limbs, or even his pointy ears that stood out from under his beanie, you would’ve never guessed it was him. Or you would’ve. Only because of the sixth sense you get when you meet your soulmate.

Not many people meet their soulmate. It’s a fact. You’d had to do a research paper on it once in middle school and if you remember correctly, only 8% of the world’s population find their soulmate. And you happened to be in that 8%.

You’d seen him at the beginning of freshman year, during your first week, when you felt something wash over you as he made eye contact. Like someone poured a ton of warmth and covered you with a blanket while giving you some hot cocoa. You’ve only ever heard of soulmates with happy endings so when he’d turned away, a frown etched on his handsome face, the fantasies running through your head broke like a dam.

He wasn’t in any of your courses last year, or your first year, but this year he was.

In your Statistics course to be exact. You’re honestly not that bad at statistics. The concepts are fine. You do pretty well on the tests too. However, you still despised Statistics with a hatred that ran deep. Obviously due to him, if that wasn’t clear enough.

Chanyeol doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t go out of his way to annoy you, tease you, or pick on you. He’s not particularly fond of you either. Maybe he knows you. You don’t know if he knows your name—although there is attendance so you could beg to differ—he acts as if you aren’t there. That his soulmate isn’t there.

The only possible honest to God answer you’ve gotten as to why he doesn’t talk to you, acts like you are nothing, like a piece of gum on someone’s shoe, is because he doesn’t like you. You’ve even overheard him telling Baekhyun that you aren’t his type. You weren’t there to hear anything else as you fled from there, eyes glassy with tears. Chanyeol is very handsome. You’d begrudgingly admitted that when you actually noticed how many girls flank his sides while he merely walks through the campus corridors. He’s tall, sporting a modelesque face, thin but you were sure he packed in some muscle underneath, and he has an amazing sense of fashion. Girls are lining over for him, left and right.

And you—you’re just lacking. In your eyes at least. And Chanyeol’s as well.

He really took one look at you and deemed you not pretty enough to be his soulmate. He is the guy that dates the girls in the modeling and acting majors with a body and face that rival any female celebrity. You couldn’t possibly beat any of them.

If you thought about it frankly, it was pathetic. How horribly he treats you. How you look at him from the sidelines with a spotlight shining over him when he doesn’t even glance your way. How you know--even though fate literally attached you to him--it’ll never happen. You’ve gotten mad and ranted with Baekhyun about it as well (he got mad with you and claimed to come and beat him up for you, but you quickly declined not wanting to ruin his face because you just knew he would lose--and you didn’t want him to fight his friend. Yeah, your soulmate who hates you and your best friend are friends. Lucky, right?) and you said that you’d show him a piece of your mind. But the next day, your entire demeanor deflated. The voice in the back of your head started its whispering. Don’t bother him, you already know how he feels about you. And the anger left you.

You’ve come to terms with it now—only sending the back of his head in class a few sad smiles from time to time and other than that you ignore him. If he ignores you, you should ignore him. Why should you pine over someone who barely knows you exist? (Your tiny crush on him says otherwise and acts accordingly.)

You were surprised to see him here of all places and with the luggage too. Apparently, Chanyeol was traveling for the holidays as well. He narrowed his eyes and suddenly you felt like he was analyzing you. You felt small and almost like you were about to suffocate. You tore your eyes away from him and back to your screen. Just a coincidence, you thought. No need for any bad thoughts, Y/N! Can’t let that trouble you and ruin your big, big day! Or well week since you were going to paradise for a whole five days. Too short, now that you think about it.

At the thought of why you were at the airport suddenly came crashing back on you, your previous jitters returning, you quickly pressed on your roommate's number, the calling screen popping up before you pressed it to your ear.

“Y/N? Are you here yet?” Baekhyun asked. You and Baekhyun went to the same high school and had bonded over your similar love for SNSD. You would skip class together to watch the comeback showcase and your friendship only grew from there. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when you and Baekhyun ended up going to the same college. Not many of his friends were keen on living alone, leaving the two of you on one side. You decided to live together seeing no problems arise.

“I am. Checked in my bag and I’m kind of in front of the entrance?” You said, scanning the mass of people to see if you could spot him.

“Okay, one sec, Cha—my friend is checking in his bag right now...can you meet us at the Starbucks?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You cut the call and made your way over to the Starbucks you spotted earlier.

You and Baekhyun were supposed to be going on a trip of the lifetime—to Paris of all places! It was a dream that both of you had had. He’d gone and done everything, his excitement to the max at the thought of finally being able to go traveling with you. However, in the end, he couldn’t come. He’d gotten a promotion at a radio, something he couldn’t miss. It was a big step in his singing career--people would actually be hearing him now—and you’d sadly accepted the fact that you wouldn’t be able to go with him.

He still didn’t want you going alone, the best friend he was and somehow managed to convince a friend of his to go with you. You asked which friend of his (he had too many) but he stubbornly told you it’d be a surprise. You were okay with anyone except for one person, but you had a bad feeling that crawled up your spine after your previous encounter.

You tapped at your phone, sipping your drink while playing a game that your 9-year old cousin had demanded you download as it was a must by her standards.

“Y/N?” You looked up to see Baekhyun standing over your table. You dropped your phone, practically tackling him and squealing, pulling him into a hug, the excitement rolling off you in waves.

“Well, aren’t you excited.” He mused.

“So much, you don’t even know.” You voiced, pulling back before pouting. “Now you have to tell me. Who is it?”

He smirked before cocking his head to the side. Your head whipped to where he was gesturing.

“No—” you spluttered seeing the familiar face.

“Chanyeol!” He called waving his arms, motioning for him to come here, while you had your mini panic attack.

You looked at him, something akin to fear displayed on your face. You almost threw up half the macchiato you downed just a few minutes before seeing Chanyeol rolling his luggage with him.

Baekhyun smiles, beaming, before leaning closer to your ear. “You'll thank me later.”

The excitement form your face has fully washed off, as you purse your lips. “I don’t think so, Baek.”

“See this is why I didn’t tell you! I knew you’d act like this.” He pouted before turning around and pulling Chanyeol to you.

“Hi.” Chanyeol starts, slowly, cautiously, as he sees you looking anywhere but at him. Was he okay with this? Going to another fucking country with you? Was he not freaking out? Did Baekhyun tell him that it was you he was going with? No— did Baekhyun bribe him? You felt small under your soulmate's eyes, and you hated it.

You almost feel like crying, and you don’t even know why as you wave a heartless wave back. You can’t deal with this right now. Nope. No way. You choose not to.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, grabbing your phone and heading towards the bathroom. You head into a stall and give yourself ten seconds. Ten seconds to cry before you put on a smile. A tiny sob racks out of your chest and you thank God your relationship with Chanyeol hasn’t progressed enough for him to feel your feelings. You’d actually die if that was the case.

You take a deep breath when you hit one and quickly dab at your eyes with your over-sized hoodie. At least you didn’t wear any mascara. You press the tips of your fingers, which are slightly cold, to your eyes, afraid of the puffiness before walking out of the stall. You give yourself a smile seeing no trace. You can do this. This is nothing. If anything, maybe you can try and get to know him on the trip, and maybe learn more about him and why he doesn’t like you. You paused glancing at your sparkling eyes. Nothing can ruin your first trip abroad, by yourself. Not even him. The smile you sported suddenly felt a lot less heavy from before your pep talk. I can do this, you repeated like a mantra. You whisper to yourself a small ‘fighting!’ before you walk out of the bathroom to go meet your doom.

Chanyeol frowns when he sees you, as a small thank you passes from your lips when you see your backpack on his shoulder since they’d moved from the cafe. You shoulder your backpack, ignoring the stare that you could literally feel on you from a certain giant.

“Great!” Baekhyun announces, not seeming to notice the tension between you to. Or maybe he chose to ignore it. Or it was just your imagination. “Now that you two are energized and ready to go, I’ll be taking my leave—"

“Wait!” You interject. A blush settles on your face when you realize you sounded a little too panicked to be considered cool, calm and collected. Not freaking out on the inside. “Uh...goodbye hug?” He chuckles at your excuse and opens his arms. You give him a small smile and walk in, glad for the warmth that the man practically radiates. You’re actually going to miss the annoying idiot. Even though you were going to Paris, he had wanted to go too. It was on both your bucket lists and you felt sad that he wouldn’t be there to experience it with you.

“We can always go next time,” he mutters, practically reading your thoughts. “Don’t be sad.” He let’s go, smiling down at you, and you pout as he pats your head in a teasing manner. He gives Chanyeol the more masculine hug, bro-hug you like to call it, and says his last words, turning around to leave, two of you now alone.

Well, you both were still in the airport where hundreds of people surrounded you but still, alone.

You spoke up, not sure of what to do next. “I guess we should go too—" Chanyeol turns seeing Baekhyun exit, the airport giving you one last dramatic wave, not sparing you a glance before leaving. “Or not,” You mutter, dejectedly, hurrying to follow behind him. You didn’t know if you should follow him, but the two of you were technically traveling together, right? Couldn’t hurt if you annoy him a little more.

You got on the plane with no hassle. It was a long flight, 12 hours to be exact, the longest you’ve ever been on a plane—and it wasn’t until you boarded, and put your backpack overhead, Chanyeol helping you put yours as he saw you struggling when you realized you were scared. Well, a scared type of nervous. A nervous type of scared. You forgot about the jitters that always seem to crawl up behind you when you take off. Something about the plane tilting so weird made butterflies flutter in your stomach. And not the good kind.

Your hands gripped the handlebars a little too tight, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes were shut closed as the plane lifted and you missed the glances Chanyeol sent your way seeing your frenzied state. You should really get rid of this stupid fear.

One thing you’ve noticed is that you can never sleep on planes. Well, just the first part. Trying to sleep right after taking off? Yeah, you could never. You saw Chanyeol pull an eye mask from his bag and put it on and mentally made a note to maybe try that sometime. Maybe it’d help.

The time on the tiny TV in front of you said there were almost six hours left. Halfway there. You turned from listening to music to watching a movie, and you were scrolling through the new Disney movies that were released this year when you felt something land on your shoulder.

You managed a peek and froze. It was Chanyeol. He’d wiggled out in his seat, legs awkwardly spread as they were too long from the cramped up seat and he somehow came to your height, head lolling on your shoulder. You glanced at the person sitting next to Chanyeol, an old man in his late 40’s. At least he didn’t land on him.

You let go of the breath you were holding not feeling him move and continuing to find another movie. The position looks as comfortable as it gets for an economy class ticket to Paris. You’d spare your shoulder if it meant his comfort any day.

Maybe it was after the third movie you fell asleep on Chanyeol’s head that was still resting on your shoulder.

So when he woke and found you sleeping on his head, it was the hardest minute of his life to move you comfortably to his shoulder without waking you up.

He looked at your face, a pout lining your lips. He wanted nothing more than to smash his lips on them.

When Baekhyun had asked if he'd wanted to go on a trip with you, cautiously of course (he knew your relationship with him), he'd accepted thinking that maybe he should try. He should try this whole soulmate thing with you when Baekhyun explained to him that his parents were just horrible. Not at all like what soulmates become.

He started to regret it after seeing you at the airport and now all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his embrace and smother you with kisses. The stupid soulmate bond getting in the way of his rational thoughts. It didn't help that the hoodie you were wearing was over-sized, practically swallowing you making you look even more adorable.

He looked away, groaning, his head falling back against the seat. This is not good.

He saw the movie you were watching still playing and lightly chuckled seeing as your headphones were still on. You must’ve been really tired to have slept through that noise. He peeled them off, carefully, and turned off the screen before resting his head on yours again. He found that it was much more comfortable than the seat behind him as his eyes fluttered shut, sleep overtaking him once again.

When you woke, Chanyeol was already awake and your chest tightened, hoping beyond belief he didn’t mind you leaning against him. You couldn’t have him hating you any more or getting the wrong idea. But what could be the wrong idea? You were simply sleeping. Even if he did, his face was void of emotion so if he did care, he shrugged it off—maybe saying something your unconscious body had done, so it wasn’t your fault. You blew a breath out, thankful to spare the embarrassment that would’ve come if he had questioned you before the seat belt sign had turned off. You’d officially landed.

Chanyeol had gotten your backpack that you’d gratefully taken from him as you boarded off the plane.

The Paris airport was bustling to the brim and you could only look with wide eyes at everything surrounding you. It intrigued you, how everything looked so similar. All the elements of the Seoul airport were there, but it was so different at the same time. The feeling of Paris seeped through the small cracks as you saw everything laid in front of you.

How instead of Korean and English, it was French and English printed on the signs overhead. A voice in the back of your head said the language of love, and you couldn’t help but think how ironic it was, in your situation.

No mishaps had occurred as you got to the hotel you’d be staying at for the next week. You’d checked in, both you and Chanyeol having separate rooms, although they were next to each other. You’d quickly said no when they asked if you’d like to change to a single room. The blush that stained your cheeks had stayed up the elevator until you scrambled into your room and muttered a quick ‘see you tomorrow’ to Chanyeol.

You spent the rest of the evening washing up and organizing the events you’d already booked for tomorrow. You wondered if Baekhyun was still awake and were reaching for your phone to text him when your stomach growled. You groaned remembering that you’d slept through the in-flight meal and the last thing you’d digested was that measly drink from Starbucks. Maybe you should go and get dinner.

You looked at the menu booklet that you’d found on the sleek coffee table in the corner of the room, that showed the items for room service but blanched at the price of each plate. The hotel Baekhyun reserved was exquisite, to say the least. You counted the money that you’d exchanged earlier at the airport and deemed that you’ll exchange some more tomorrow morning. It wouldn’t hurt to skip dinner if you just slept now.

A knock at the door had made you freeze in your spot, sprawled on the floor. You got up, not expecting anyone and looked through the peephole, curiously. Chanyeol was standing there, his eyes cast downwards as he scrolled through his phone. You’d scrambled back. Why was he here? Was there something wrong? Did he lose something? You peaked again and noticed his casual stature. It doesn’t look like anything is wrong…maybe he just forgot something trivial and needed to borrow it for you. You popped your hood, thinking your hair was probably a mess, hoping that nothing was actually up before opening the door.

“Oh, you’re still awake.” His eyes raked your figure up and down, and your feet shuffled, nervous under his scrutinizing gaze. “I was just going to grab some food—you didn’t have dinner yet, did you?”

You shook your head. “I’m not that hungry—”

The rumbling of your stomach interrupted you. A blush settled on your cheeks as a small smile painted his handsome face. You managed a nervous chuckle before saying you’ll be out in ten and softly shut the door behind you. After you were sure the lock had clicked, you’d stumbled to your bed and dived head first before thrashing a little, heart soaring through the clouds. Did Park Chanyeol just ask you to go out with him?

You settled for a small diner that lined the streets next to your hotel. The aroma when you entered the restaurant made you salivate at how good it smelled.

You were excited for the food until you saw the waitress practically waltz to your table. She was blonde, tall, with long legs, and big breasts. You couldn’t help but think she was pretty even as she gave a very inappropriate look to your soulmate. She leaned over the table, showing off even more cleavage and you rolled your eyes.

And then you saw Chanyeol. And where exactly he was looking. You scoffed as she sent you a smirk and a tiny part inside of you died remembering when he had said you weren’t his type. Maybe she was his type. You glanced at your chest and suddenly felt small in comparison.

His eyes fluttered to yours as you quickly looked back at your menu, embarrassed as you’d been caught staring at him. What’s wrong with you? You’re not his type and nothing can change that.

The waitress had walked back, a bounce in her step, knowing the effect she had on Chanyeol, after taking your orders and you’d been down in the dumps since.

Dinner was silent until you tried breaking the silence. It couldn’t possibly hurt to try and know more about your travel buddy if not soulmate, could it?

“What are you majoring in?” You chanced, eyes wide as you took another bite of your pasta, eyes focused on him.

He looked up at you and swallowed. “Music.”

You hummed. It made sense. Chanyeol seemed like...a free spirit. He doesn’t seem like the person who would want to major in something sturdy like law or medicine because his parents told him to. A content smile spread over his lips and you realized that he must love what he does.

“What about you?”

“Oh, um, business.” You gave him a small smile. “Boring, right? I’ve always wanted to learn guitar.” You said, sadly. “Seems fun.”

“Business isn’t..boring.” He mused, questionably you’d add, and then. “Why didn’t you?” He questions, lips down-turned.

“My parents thought it was a waste of money.” You played with the pasta on your plate, fork scratching the glass. You’d never gave it a second thought. If your parents used that excuse, that usually meant it would never happen. Money was a touchy subject in your family, as you didn’t grow up in a lavish environment. “Never got the chance.”

“I could teach you.” Your head shot up, confused at his words. “Maybe when we get back.”

“Why?” You said, cocking your head. Why would he want to teach you guitar on top of his classes and probably extracurriculars? He also had his own social life.

“What do you mean why?” He questioned back.

“I—um, never mind.” Gosh, why did you have to ask that? You don’t even know what you were saying anymore. “Thank you,” you quickly added.

It’s silence until you speak up about the thing that’s been bothering you. “Baekhyun said that he convinced you to come with me—is that right?”

“Yeah. He said it when all of the guys were out. I’ve always wanted to go abroad.”

“Did you know you’d be coming with me?” You asked, hesitantly, looking at him with big eyes.

“Yeah.”

You wondered if you should bring up the part about how he treated you, but a voice in the back of your head told you to just go for it. You’re on the topic already.

“I thought you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“I mean, you don’t even talk to me, and you can’t possibly be clueless as to the fact that we’re soulmates.” His eyes widen, as you realize this is the first time you made it known. Sure you knew it, thought about it, practically every day, and you’re sure he knows it too. But this is the first time the both of you are actually discussing it. You scoffed inside. You’d known him for almost three years and this is the first time it’s come up between the two of you.

“I don’t hate you,” he mutters.

“What?” This is, what you'd call frustrating. “Well, I know I’m not your type but that doesn’t mean you have to reject me being your soulmate. You didn’t even give me a chance—” you choke, halting your tirade.

He cocks his head. “I never told you, you weren’t my type—”

“I heard,” you interjected. “Freshman year, you told Baekhyun in our apartment and I heard. And I get that I’m not what you want, but you never even gave me a chance.” You look at him, pleadingly, before sighing. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

“I—I don’t hate you,” he splutters.

“You don’t have to lie.” You state, standing up from the table. Where all your confidence is coming from, only God knows. His hand shoots out to hold your arm and you pull it away, goosebumps rising, when you felt a small shock from that touch.

You glare at him. “If you don’t hate me, then it’s okay to say you don’t like me being your—”

“I just never wanted a soulmate, okay?” He interjects, eyebrows furrowed at you. “It’s not you.” You falter. It wasn’t you he didn’t want. It was the fact he never wanted what you were to him. “I don’t hate you, okay.” He looked at you, eyes big and soft before confessing. “I kind of wanted to go on this trip with you.”

You slowly sat back down, mouth effectively shut up for the rest of dinner, thoughts consuming you as you finished off your plate. He never wanted a soulmate? So when he said he wanted to go with you, he meant to get you know you as a friend? Were you just friend-zoned by him? Something in your gut didn’t feel right and you remembered how you had a tiny crush on him. Totally not platonic feelings. Is this really what your future will be? You mentally slammed your head against the table. Maybe you should get up and leave his forever, because you just know that you’ll fall for him even more, if you started this. But there was still a small part in your heart that just said, take what you could get. Maybe it’ll work in your favor. You glanced at the man in question, chomping on a bread stick while scrolling through his phone seemingly unaffected. He still is your soulmate. Just the thought of leaving him seemingly made your heart break into pieces that could never be put back together.

“The food’s really good,” was all you could manage, trying a light tone.

“Yeah, it is.” He replied.

When the bill came around you rummaged through your purse for the right note but Chanyeol had already handed the correct amount.

“Wait, no, it’s fine I can pay half, what are you doing—”

“I pay this time and you pay the next?” He offered, already handing over the money. You frowned at him huffing an okay not really seeing a choice before waiting for him at the entrance.

As you strolled the Parisian streets next to Chanyeol, you realized that he said the next time also. Did that mean he wanted to eat with you, again? Your heart couldn’t help but flutter a smile growing on your lips at the possibilities that swam through your mind. And then you remembered. He didn’t want a soulmate. The smile was gone.

Maybe you should’ve just skipped dinner.

In the past few months, you’ve visited every top tourist attraction website you could find on the whole internet including Paris and finally, after the very long wait, you got to experience it.

Today marks the first day of your trip in Paris. You’d be going to the Moulin Rouge before taking a cruise on the Seine.

You were getting ready, having just gotten out of the shower and settling for a pair of jeans and a hoodie with your long coat over from the chilly weather forecast of today, when you felt it.

A searing pain on your forearm pulling a shriek from you. You ran towards the sink feeling tears prick at your eyes because that really fucking hurt. And based on previous knowledge that was a burn. You had gotten a burn when you were nowhere near anything hot. Which meant only one other thing.

It was Chanyeol. You'd been bonded. You laughed heartlessly as the cold water washed over your skin. He said he didn’t want a soulmate and the very next day you get bonded to him. How amazing.

You’ve figured out over the day that Chanyeol is very clumsy. You’ve got bruises on your knees, elbows, and finger when you think that he slammed his finger on a door. He was literally going to be the death of you and it hasn’t even been one fucking day, you think.

You decide to bring it up to him, even though you knew you’d probably forget. You have low pain tolerance. If anything else you’ll go into shock living with this bond for the rest of your life, you thought.

The Seine left you absolutely awestruck. You’d boarded a cruise for the evening, the tour guide explaining that it was the prettiest during sunset. And she wasn’t wrong.

The pinks and orange hues faded into the blue as you saw the sunset far off. The purple and black of the night took over the sky and you couldn’t help but sigh at the beauty it held. It was almost time to get off and you, Chanyeol and a young couple--you guessed in their early 30’s sat at a table. You’d ordered a soda and Chanyeol a tea.

A big mistake you liked to call it. The boat rocked just as Chanyeol’s lips were to taste the matcha and the piping hot burn seared on your chest right where he had spilled it. You’d spilled the coke you were holding over your shirt as well from the shock, on your white button-up shirt, before you huffed setting down the empty glass. He can’t possibly know that you’ve been bonded when you were taking the brunt of the hits.

“Are you always burning yourself or what?” You barked, turning to Chanyeol who was sporting a similar stain to your own. He had tissues in his hand when he looked down at your shirt, then back to your face as a blush coated his features.

“What?” He called.

“This morning, you burned yourself on something didn’t you?”

“Yes, but how did you know—?”

“Are you fucking stupid or—" you rolled up your sleeve and pinched the supple skin there, and he yelped.

“No...” He breathed.

“Yes. So please, try and be more careful from now on.”

The couple which Chanyeol found had an adorable kid took their seats on the chairs across from you. He looked around only now noticing that the deck was packed, many lingering around the edges of the deck, not having a seat. Thank God, you’d grabbed a seat beforehand and told him to keep his stuff so someone wouldn’t take your seat. He couldn’t fathom standing for a whole two hours with sore legs, if only from strolling through Paris in the afternoon.

Chanyeol watched the couple bicker, lovingly, before one of their kids spilled scalding hot tea over the father. He chuckled. That just happened to him as well. But what came next shocked him.

The mother turned to the child who looked upon his parents, bottom lip trembling, tears spilling out. “I’m sorry, did it hurt a lot?” He cried.

Chanyeol thought he only spilled the tea on the father before he caught a glance of an angry red on the mother’s forearm. Right where the father was wiping it with a tissue.

“It’s okay, it was only an accident, don’t cry. It doesn’t even hurt that much.” The mother soothed the child, shushing him.

He realized. The couple was bonded. With a child. His mind was in a frenzy before your voice next to him pulled out from his thoughts.

“Are you two soulmates?” You asked, eyes sparkling and lips pulled into a smile.

The couple nodded as a small, dreamy sigh left your lips and only Chanyeol could see the tiniest motion as you deflated.

“That’s lovely.” You spoke before your eyes met Chanyeol’s.

Chanyeol looked straight at you, gaze unwavering as he thought of how maybe this whole time he’s seen it wrong. You were surprised, quickly looking away from his eyes, a sudden blush rising in your cheeks.

Maybe it really could be different for him.

You’d woken up the next morning absolutely ecstatic for the busy day to come. The prospect of seeing the Palace of Versailles—all the greenery, the history hidden behind each stone placed, the architecture—something you’ve only dreamed of seeing in person sent jitters all over again through your body. This is exactly what you wanted when you planned to travel.

You checked the time and remembered that you forgot to remind Chanyeol last night that the bus would arrive earlier. A voice in the back of your mind told you not to tell him but then you remembered. He was in Paris because he wanted to travel. You know how excited you were—you couldn’t possibly do that to him. You figured that you should go right now but quickly chickened out, deeming it too awkward for you to go to his door and knock. Sure, your relationship has gotten a little better (he did want to be friends with you)—and he doesn’t treat you like dirt anymore but nothing like the dreams you’ve dreamed of.

You picked up your phone and clicked on his contact--having gotten his number for emergencies. Both of you had gotten international plans for the trip as roaming charges were never pleasant.

chanyeol?

are you up?

Even after ten minutes, he didn’t reply and he couldn’t possibly be ignoring you. He wouldn’t stoop that low. You hesitated before thinking, fuck it, and pressing the call button.

It rang a few times before he picked up his groggy morning voice filling your ear. “Y/N? Is there something wrong?”

Your stomach leaped at how his words slurred and you thought of how adorable he would look. No, bad Y/N. Don’t think like that. “Um, no, are you awake yet? The tour bus we're taking leaves at 9:30—”

“That’s today?” He interjects. “Shit, I should probably get ready—thank you, God, if you weren’t here—“

He hung up the call then and you lowered the phone a small smile playing on your lips. He’s glad that you’re here with him.

Later you hit your head against the wall of your bed because you are not supposed to be thinking those thoughts over what he says. He probably doesn’t mean how you think it means. You’re looking too into things, Y/N. You have got to stop.

You showed up at his door later, his promise of you paying for the next meal going through your thoughts. You don’t usually eat breakfast, but the thought of trying actual French croissants in France made your mouth water.

In the end, you made your way to the breakfast buffet at your hotel and took everything you thought look good in a to-go box for Chanyeol and you to share.

You'd rung the doorbell and after you heard a door shut inside and some more shuffling he opened the door. You yelped before turning around. He only had a towel on.

He smirked. “There’s still half an hour,” he remarked.

You lifted up the bag, now looking at the floor. “I brought breakfast.”

He tentatively took it from your fingers before sniffing it and moaning in pleasure. He walked inside to his room leaving the door open and you took that as permission to enter as well. “You are literally a godsend, Y/N, this smells amazing.”

Your blush darkens. “Should I wait, until you’re done dressing or—?”

“You can wait, I’ll be a minute,” he says and you hear what you think is the bathroom close before letting out the breath you were unknowingly holding. You flop on one of the chairs near the coffee table, identical to the one in your own room. That was way too much exposure for you at only nine in the morning. Did the universe hate you? Is that why your life is like this? You take your orange juice and chug it suddenly feeling a little too hot when you hear Chanyeol’s phone ring.

You look at the phone number with ‘Mother’ written and then to the bathroom. Is it nosy if you pick up? But what if it’s important? In the end, you pick up the phone, seeing as a few rings already passed. “Hello?”

“Hello, Chanyeol? Are you home, right now? Remember that book—”

“Um, Ma’am. This is Y/N, Chanyeol’s--um, friend.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Where’s Chanyeol?”

“He’s in the bathroom, right now.” Your eyebrows furrow, repeating what she said in your brain. Home? Did Chanyeol not tell her about being in Paris? You don’t say anything as you only hear static on the other side.

“Oh,” she finally replies, and you’re shocked at how uninterested she is. Does she really not know?

You hear the door open and Chanyeol sees you with his phone as you look at him.

“Who is it?” He asks across the room, hanging up his towel on the clothes rack to the side.

“Your mother,” you mouth. His eyes widen and it only takes him two strides to reach and snatch the phone from your hand. His face turns cold and you feel as if you’ve done something wrong.

“I’ll call you later, Mother.” He says, before hanging up.

You keep your lips closed as he sighs and looks at you. “Why did you pick up?”

“I—um,” you splutter.

“Whatever, just don’t do it again.” He snapped as you curled in yourself wanting nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Apparently, you were being nosy.

He sprawls over the other chair, silently and unwraps the food. You watch him practically inhale the food, not making any move. He looks pissed.

“Sorry.” You both say simultaneously. You hold eye contact with him for an exact five seconds before he looks away.

“Did you not tell your mom that you were going to Paris?” You try. “Are…you not close with her?”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. And then,

“My parents are soulmates.” Your eyes widen, microscopically. Well, this is big news. The fact that you even found your soulmate was huge. You don’t even know anyone close to you that has found their soulmate. And have a kid too.

“They treated me like a stranger and only cared about themselves and I—” he stopped, a slight tremble in his lips. “I thought that that was what the soulmate bond does to people. It makes them into parasites who don’t care for those around them.” He looks at you, eyes just the tiniest bit teary. “I never wanted a soulmate because of them. She couldn’t care less. Whether I’m in Korea or across the world.”

You put yourself in his shoes. The people in his life who were supposed to love you, take care of you, comfort you, cry with you, were absent in his life—his parents were nonexistent in his life. You went over what he said in your head. He thought it was because of the soulmate bond? That’s why he doesn’t want a soulmate?

“Chanyeol? I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s because of the soulmate bond.” You blurt. He stops chewing on a sausage, looking at you. “I think they’re just assholes.” Your eyes widened. Wait, you didn’t mean to call his parents assholes! “Shit, that’s not what I—”

His boisterous laughter cuts through the room, bouncing off the walls, making it feel much livelier than what two—practically strangers—could do. “That’s what Baekhyun always says,” he chokes out between laughs. Is he one of those people who laugh at the stupidest of things? Because if he is, then you wouldn’t mind looking up the lamest dad jokes to get him laugh—no! Y/N, you can’t do that!

You find your resolve fading, though, as you can’t help but chuckle along with his never ending laughter.

The Louvre felt like a dream that you’d unnervingly stepped into. A tour guide was assigned to you, Chanyeol and a few other cute elderly couples wearing matching tourist shirts. You couldn’t help but wonder if they were soulmates too who’d grown old together—just like all the children stories said, the revelation from yesterday affecting your thoughts.

Your phone’s battery was quickly depleting if only from how many pictures you’d taken. You haven’t even reached half of the tour before your stomach is grumbling and to your embarrassment, Chanyeol, who has been walking next to you, hears it.

He calls to the tour guide and asks when they can stop for a lunch break and you all decide after you see the most famous exhibit: the Mona Lisa.

It didn’t take you long to stray from the group. Seeing as you’d go back after taking a closer picture, you’d used your height (which you’re usually very self-conscious about) to your advantage, passing through the hordes of people.

You’d gotten out of the crowd, finished with your admiration of the painting while you looked at the pictures you managed. They were pretty good if you said so yourself. Pocketing your phone, you looked up and tried spotting your group. You walked around a little, going back to where you’d parted before the realization hits you when you didn’t see them.

You quickly call Chanyeol, not knowing who else to call on this situation. He doesn’t pick up and you see that your battery is currently at 6%. This could not be happening to you right now.

You walked to a less populated part of the room suddenly feeling panicky at the hordes of people. There was probably a hundred people in this room right now and yet you knew none of them. You tried calling him again, afraid that your battery would die.

“Please, please, please, pick up,” you muttered like a mantra. Maybe God had sent you a gift when he picked up the phone.

“Chanyeol! Where are you right now, I can’t—“ your phone buzzed and you groaned seeing the screen go black. Your stupid phone with its stupid battery. Why did you take so many pictures again?

You tried looking on the bright side. He couldn’t be far, at the very most in another room. If anything he probably noticed that you aren’t by his side anymore (the both of you stuck together like glue today seeing as none of the other people in your group seemingly fit into people you could talk with). Hopefully, he’d find you soon enough. You’re a grown adult. You can’t be scared in broad daylight over nothing.

It’s been an hour and you still haven’t seen any sight of Chanyeol, and yes you were a grown adult who is totally capable of traveling alone, but you were scared. You could always go back to your hotel, but you left your money with Chanyeol as he’d brought a bigger bag and you didn’t have enough for a taxi fare back. So technically you couldn’t. Not being able to resist your hunger you’d managed to figure out where a nearby cafe was and used the rest of the money. You barely had enough for it too. You sat at one of the tables, munching on a sandwich and playing with your still dead phone. If only you had a charger.

And that’s when it hit you. This is the 21st century. Everyone had phones. With this many people, there’s probably one person with a charger—you sprung up and went to the counter hoping beyond belief your statement was correct.

“Hello? What can I get for you?” The women asked, shooting you a smile.

“Actually,” you started, “you don’t happen to have a phone charger on you, do you? My phone died and I lost my friend, and I need to call them but I don’t know his number.” You explained, a meek smile on your face.

She eyes your phone before her eyes lit up. “Oh! Yeah! You’re lucky that you have the same phone as me.” She gestured for you to come to the back through the opening on the side. You almost cried at the realization that you weren’t doomed.

“Thank you—" you paused, glancing at her name tag, “—Mia. You’re a lifesaver.”

“It’s no problem, really, but, I have to get back to the counter, so...”

“Oh yeah, totally go ahead. I’m not going to steal any mugs if that’s what you’re saying.” You shooed her off, sending a smile before leaning against the counter, a sigh leaving your lips.

You wanted to go back to your sandwich, but an inkling in the back of your head told you not to lose your phone as well. So you stayed, keeping an eye out just in case. When your phone lit up again, it was at 20% and you’d harrumphed in excitement, unplugging the cord and making your way back to your table. You’d quickly finished the last of your sandwich before clicking the call button when someone grabbed your arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N, what the fuck—” they said and you pulled away in shock.

You looked startled glancing at the young man breathing harshly beside you, hands resting on his knees as he takes a deep breath—you guessed--from running. It wasn’t until he raised his head that you realized you weren’t lost anymore.

“Chanyeol!” You exclaimed, and before you knew it you were tackling him in a hug. Maybe it was the fact that you’d gotten lost in a foreign country with a foreign language and you’d had no idea what to do. But seeing his face, a familiar face made tears prick at your eyes. He’d froze under your touch and you realized you were hugging him before you quickly let go. “Shit, sorry,” you rambled and pulled back, trying your best to blink away the tears. Why are you crying? What the hell? Is there something wrong with you?

He looked down at your weathered state and pulled you back into his arms in the middle of the debate in your head. You couldn’t help the tears that started rolling down your face, feeling the warmth emanate from him. You’re sure you soaked his hoodie as you wrap your arms around him, ear pressed against his heart as you heard the calm thump thump thump of his heartbeat that made you feel safer than ever before.

He refused to let you out of your sight for the rest of the day leaving you confused. Frazzled. Extremely concerned because where did the old Chanyeol go? Well, he had confessed that he kind of wanted to go on this trip with you. Technically that meant he wouldn't treat you horribly. This is what friends do for each other right? They look out for you. Well, you weren’t really complaining (even with how much he made you question yourself when he steered you closer to him when you'd strayed, his warm hands placed on your shoulders) as you were about to go take an angled picture of the Flying Carpet structure in the middle of the courtyard but was stopped by Chanyeol grabbing your hand.

You look back glancing at his hand in yours then back to his face, blushing. “I’m just going to go and take a picture—”

“Tell me,” he interrupted, “when you go somewhere else, okay?” His tone was soft, and all you could do was nod before he let go of your hand. You couldn’t even take a picture, his camera that you borrowed slipping out of your hands every time you thought of his warm hand clasped over yours.

Chanyeol watched as you stood underneath the Eiffel Tower, looking above you at the massive structure, a smile displayed lighting up your features.

“Will you take a picture for me?” You grinned. He nodded, taking the phone from your outstretched hand. And while you turned around he quickly took a few pictures on your phone, before he realized that he hadn’t taken any pictures himself. His camera was over on the bench so he patted his pocket to get his phone, as he always kept it there but froze not feeling the familiar weight.

His eyes widened before he strides towards his bag and hurriedly checked all the pockets. You’d walked over to him now, silently taking your phone from where he placed it on the bench next to him.

He groaned, after taking everything out of his bag and still not finding his phone. He couldn’t possibly have…lost it, could he? This is something big even for how forgetful Chanyeol is. He really went and lost his phone abroad. He looked at you and took in your concerned eyes, and then,

“I think I lost my phone.”

Maybe it was after ten minutes, twenty minutes—Chanyeol wasn’t sure because he didn’t have his fucking phone, but you already left his side after he broke the news—when you came back, silently taking a seat next to him.

“So I asked the tour guide,” you announced garnering Chanyeol’s attention as he looked at your calm stature. “And he said he’ll take us to the nearest police station.” You turned to him. “Can you try to retrace your steps, to see where you could’ve dropped it?”

He looked at you. He really looked at you as you blinked back at him, patiently waiting for him to answer. Over the days, over the days he spent with you, he’s realized something. You’ve been nothing short of amazing to him.

You were thoughtful, patient, you never got mad at him (except for whenever he gets an especially painful bruise--you have low pain tolerance, he’s noticed), and you laughed at the stupid jokes he tells you. He realized that he wanted nothing more than to keep that laugh on your face for the rest of your life. He wanted to make you laugh for the rest of your life. His heart stopped when he realized this isn’t what he wanted. When he had told you that he didn’t want a soulmate, he saw that loving glint in your eyes leave. He saw when you find yourself staring at him before looking away when he noticed. He saw how you restricted yourself, hesitating just the tiniest bit before doing something that friends don’t do. And over the days he realized. He was such a stupid idiot. And a hypocrite. And an asshole. He realized that he wanted you to be his soulmate. Even after just a few days ago he stated the exact opposite. Chanyeol groaned inwardly. He really fucked up, didn’t he?

You were for sure going to blow up in his face when he told you. You were shy sure, but he saw that you speak your mind when things get out of hand. Oh God, what if you say you didn’t want him as a soulmate anymore? Then what would he do?

“I think in the last taxi we were in.” He muttered as he saw you in another light, almost as if a halo was shining a top of you.

“Oh! Then if you didn’t put it on silent, maybe the driver will pick up!” You exclaimed, hurriedly pulling your phone out. “I’m so dumb, I should’ve done this earlier.” You tapped for a few seconds on your phone before pressing it to your ear.

You frowned when no one picked up.

After the third time, your face lit up, as you spoke an excited ‘hello!’ and that’s when Chanyeol realized, inwardly smiling to himself.

He liked you. Maybe even loved you.

But he was stupid. So maybe he couldn’t.

“I told you we’d find it!” You squealed, skipping to Chanyeol before handing him his phone with the familiar phone case. He took it from your hand, welcoming the sparks that followed when your hand brushed his.

“I have no idea what I’d do without you.” He remarked.

“I know right,” you joked, a knowing smile present on your face. Chanyeol noticed; you smile a lot.

Maybe he’d begun noticing all the tiny things in the few hours passed that he realized his feelings for you. His true feelings. His true feelings that he couldn’t fucking confess because he messed up, big. (Even his conscience reminded him and Chanyeol wanted nothing more than for his conscience to fuck off.)

“Y/N,” he started, not knowing if he should say it now, but your attention fluttered back to the tour guide who was waving the both of you over. Chanyeol deflated as you turned your back on him before he made himself a silent promise. He wasn’t sure if you hated him yet, but he wanted you to know how he felt. He wanted to know if you still wanted him as a soulmate, even after everything he’s done to you. No time like the present, right?

The breeze fluttered through Paris, sending shivers up your spine as you leaned against the cold metal railing, gazing over the streets lit up underneath you. The people looked as small as ants from the top of the Eiffel tower.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You enquired, not looking at Chanyeol who sported a similar stance to your own.

You didn’t notice how Chanyeol turned to you, taking how the Parisian lights reflected in your eyes. “It is,” he replied (not totally taking a line out of a fairy tale and referencing to you, not the city below him).

You looked at him now, feeling his eyes boring into your side profile.

“Y/N, do you hate me?”

Your eyes widened at his statement. You know you’ve said that you thought he hates you, but you? Hating him? If anyone hated him you’d wonder if they were in their right minds. How can one actually hate him? First of all, his looks, you’re surprised that no agency has scouted him to be a model or actor. His voice, that stupid deep timbre that sent butterflies through your body whenever he started humming along to the radio, silently singing all the words. His personality was practically close to angelic. If you thought about it, to everyone else he was nice, so nice sometimes he stood up against Kim Jongdae—you realized it that one time you were crossing the street and he went to help out an elderly woman who was struggling with her groceries. He was just a lovable, extremely nice, idiotic giant, with big eyes and adorable pointy ears. How could you not like him?

“Th—that’s absurd,” you splutter, heat rushing to your cheeks, at how he’s staring at you, and you’re afraid that he could’ve heard your earlier thoughts, even though that’s impossible.

“So you don’t?” He continued. You nodded before he smiled a small smile to himself. “Good,” he confessed. And then, “that means you like me, right?”

The question was so out of the blue, and at the same time not, that you ended up choking on your own spit. He helped you recover, his warm hand sending goosebumps through your jacket as he rubbed your back. You narrowed your eyes at him seeing how he was so close to laughing at your hacking.

“How can you just say that so carelessly?” You declared, huffing, not looking at him, as he so was doing to you.

“You do, don’t you?” He grinned, taking your silence and avoidance of his question as an answer. “Because I think I like you.”

When you turn and meet his eyes, a series of events that you saw as the future flashed through your eyes. Chanyeol getting down on one knee, a box in his hand. The two of you sharing a kiss sealing your love for each other. A child with pointy ears and wide, doe eyes that you knew so well running around a house with chocolate smeared over his face.

And you realize that that is the future you have with him.

“I—” you falter. Mouth opening and closing. “You saw that too, didn’t you.”

His smile is beaming as he answers. “I did.” And he takes a step closer to you, closing the distance that was previously between the two of you.

And then he’s leaning closer, and closer, and closer, before pressing his lips to yours in the most gentle way you thought possible. Your lips move against his in a fluidity that you've never noticed before. You fit perfectly against him—as if you were made for each other. His lips are velvet as they move against your own, his hands hot as they pull you closer, placed on your hips.

A smile breaks through your lips as you kiss him, arms coming around his shoulders, fingers playing with the baby hairs on his nape and only when the two of you part, you see the brightest of smiles displayed on his face like a piece of art that you wouldn’t mind staring at for the rest of your life.

He leans down to swoop you off your feet again when you pull back, confusion laced over your features. “Wait a second. You said you didn’t want a soulmate, right? If you like me—your soulmate—how is that supposed to work—”

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss that has your head spinning. He chuckles. “I don’t not want a soulmate anymore, stupid.” Another kiss. “As long as its you.” And another. You kiss for a few more minutes, thankful that no one else was on the top of the Eiffel tower that you had forced Chanyeol to climb up with you. They weren’t going to risk the hellish flight of stairs to get to the amazing view.

After a while, he pulls away again. You’re glad as you take a breath. This man takes your breath away, literally. “You didn’t answer my question,” he breathes against your lips.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “What question?”

“Do you like me?” He questions, forehead resting against yours.

“I like you, Chanyeol,” you whisper.

He cradles your face and you see the spark of emotion glazing his eyes before he crashes his lips on yours once more.

It’s love.

As you enter the familiar Seoul Airport hand in hand with Chanyeol, you spot Baekhyun, your best friend, waiting for you, sporting a shit-eating grin.

He welcomes you with a hug before leaning down to whisper something only you could hear, “Where’s my thank you?”

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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A/W 2020 Fashion Month: Before Vogue Went Blank (Part 2)

Hi to anyone reading,

I was going to start this post by jumping straight into Dion Lee and part 2 in general but there's been a lot going on the past couple of days-although this blog is primarily fashion, it wouldn’t feel right to start talking about designers without acknowledging all the shit that’s been going down.

^Photo Credit to @spiltcoco on Twitter

Yesterday, police footage came out of US police murdering yet another black man in broad daylight-George Floyd. He joins Sandra Bland, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray, and Alton Sterling, plus hundreds more named and god knows how many more unnamed African American citizens in the ever-growing list of victims of police brutality.

The majority of these are just people going about their daily lives, a majority of them doing absolutely nothing wrong; even those we know to have committed crimes have been unarmed and non-violent offenders. That being said, their offences are beside the point when we’ve seen the white perpetrators of mass shootings be calmly cuffed and escorted into the backs of police cars as if they were the ones selling cigarettes without permits. American police, given the amount of them that are armed, regularly become judge, jury and executioner trained for 8 weeks by an institution that originated from slave patrols. I cannot imagine how terrifying it is just to walk around as a PoC in America. I cannot imagine the collective trauma that has been suffered because of recent events on top of the intergenerational trauma that most likely exists because of centuries of oppression. I cannot imagine what it’s like to live in a country that was built to suppress you and was by law allowed to do so until very recently, those original structures still in place. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be made to feel like this is your fault. I mean, Boris Johnson is a useless, cold-hearted twat and I won’t defend him or this country for a minute (we have much blood on our own hands, and racial profiling is just as much a thing here as it is in America-I read earlier that you’re 28 times more likely to be stopped and searched in London as a non-white person compared to a white person), but I still can’t imagine him publicly advocating for the mass murder of groups he knows to be primarily made up of black people via Twitter. This whole situation is so unimaginably fucked up; anyone who still sees America as one of the world’s most developed nations needs to take a long, hard look at what is going on and reconsider that opinion.

Whilst we can’t fix everything, we can all speak up and make our voices heard, and it is our duty to do so. It’s not good enough to just “not be racist”, you have to be ANTI-racism, even if that means constantly reflecting on your own privilege and challenging your assumptions. Neutrality is complicity. Signing a petition isn’t going to change the world, but it’s a start:

https://www.change.org/p/mayor-jacob-frey-justice-for-george-floyd?recruiter=false&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=twitter&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf_combo_share_abi&recruited_by_id=7ba70000-a127-11ea-87fb-d1ff0bf6ea96

As I publish this, there’s less than 50,000 signatures needed to hit the target of 6,000,000 so if you happen to see it, get signing! There are lots of other petitions online but Change.org seems to be the only major one you can sign in the UK as the other are US based and require a zip code. I never thought I’d close a paragraph by quoting Macklemore but the line “no freedom 'til we're equal, damn right I support it” is at the forefront of my mind right now. Again, neutrality is complicity. We’re never going to achieve a fair society by sitting on our asses and hoping things will improve. Let’s all do the best we can.

Sorry if that intro wasn’t what you came here for, but I just think it’s so important to talk about. I know I’ve said in the past that fashion is supposed to be an escape from everyday life but there are some times when real life needs our attention and this is one of them. Feel free to unfollow if you disagree.

Anyway, onto the fashion. If this is the first post you’re reading, welcome! There’s a part 1! But I don’t wanna be pushy so start here if you wish!

If you read part 1, welcome back!

I ended that post by practically falling at the feet of Dilara Findikoglu, and I so wanted to start this post by regaining a sense of dignity and go straight into what-the-fuck-ing at Dior, but I know breaking chronological order would really piss off those “OmG I’m SoOo OCD, tHis BuzZfeEd aRtiCle WiTh DiFfereNt SiZed TiLes ToLd Me!” which is basically me minus claiming liking things to be organised means I have OCD-no, just dermatillomania and the denial that a compulsive skin picking disorder has anything to do with OCD because the neuroses club that is my brain doesn’t have any space left. SO, I have to continue where I left off and star the post with Dion Lee, whose collections I am a big fan of.

I could ramble a bit more but I did enough of that at the beginning of part 1 and am sure I’ll do more than enough in this post anyway, so here it is, Dion Lee:

Considering we ended with the maximalism of Dilara Findikoglu, sliding back over towards the other far end of the scale with a designer that tends to pitch their tent on the borders of the minimalism camp feels correct. Dion Lee, fortunately, seems the perfect collection to open with. There aren’t many other brands who do edge in such an understated and masterful way. If you want to be ready for combat and look like you’d fit right in at Vogue at the same time, look no further. This season’s collection is full of perfectly placed cut outs and immaculate tailoring and subtle street fighter-esque details as ever, and that’s why it pains me to say it:

Not that this is enough in the way of critique to restore my dignity by any means, it’s not a patch on last season.

I don’t think there was a single bad look in that show, and at times it felt like I was weeding through them here. When the looks were good, they were GOOD but a lot I found to be disappointing. Plus I have no idea why you’d put tie-dye in an A/W collection. I appreciate that it’s an Australian brand and that our winter is their summer, but they’re presenting to the rest of the world at fashion week and anyone in Paris, Milan, London and New York is going to be freezing their tits off and looking like a twat in an orange tie-dye sundress. There wasn’t much of a dip in quality for the menswear compared to last season, but honestly womenswear left a lot to be desired. That’s what happens when your expectations are high.

I used to think that if you assume the worst, it’s impossible to feel let down. And then I saw Dior’s A/W 2020 collection. Did a full 180 on that statement.

I suppose it’s a step up from haute couture, but then at least the styling in that was simple, and it just didn’t look like anybody had tried at all; here it’s clear Maria Grazia chucked everything she could at this collection, every headscarf, every gingham print, every shallow feminist undertone, and it was still a fucking mess. At first you think some of the individual pieces are cute but have just been ruined by the styling, and then you begin to look, and realise that even those individual pieces could’ve easily been bought in a New Look Boxing Day sale.

THIS IS CHRISTIAN DIOR, SUPPOSEDLY ONE OF THE MOST LUXURIOUS BRANDS OUT THERE. WHAT IS GOING ON!?

I don’t know, I included as many looks that I didn't mind as I could, but it’s like there always has to be a crappy, unnecessary detail in there. Everything is so literal. Of course the collection based around the divine feminine has the models dressed like basic ass Greek goddesses, so of course the collection based around the modern woman and equality has women walking the runway in ties and ill-fitting shoes too. Maria Grazia, here is a box:

Think outside of it.

Next is, thankfully, Elie Saab:

No, not exactly a trailblazer of a collection, but executed with poise and elegance as always. I mean, the styling is spot on. It looks like each part of the outfit was made for another, to contribute to a whole clearly envisioned look, similar to what we saw in the Alberta Ferretti show. Elie Saab is known for its haute couture shows where all the tiny details, the sequins and the silk and the embroidery come together to make something beautiful, and this is just that on a larger scale, with less “wow”s and more quiet admiration, more wishing you were the one wearing that outfit. If you’re gonna play safe, do it this well. The night dresses are stunning of course, but not even my favourite bit of the show. It’s the casual looks, the pussy bows and the ruffles and the neck scarfs and the private girls school monochrome colour palette with the occasional pop of red or purple, a toned down version of what we saw at haute couture, any of which deserve to be worn whilst eating macarons in front of the Eiffel Tower before trip to Musee D’Orsay. It’s Poppy Moore’s school uniform grown up and made fit for a fashion magazine editor:

Somehow managing to cram an Emma Roberts early 2010s fashion moment into every post is my talent, who knew. Wild Child was really a gem.

Erdem was a mixed bag:

With a lot of the outfits, I can’t tell if I actually like the garments that much or if I just like the look as a whole. I mean, without sounding too gluten-free Callie from the Valley, I like the VIBE, but there was a lot of outfits I almost included before I had to ask myself “LAUREN, do you ACTUALLY like this or do you just like the walking-into-your-sugar-daddy’s-will-reading-to-claim-his-fortune DRAMA of it all!?”

It happened a couple of times, where once I took off my black and white, theatrical violin accompanied entrance filtered sunglasses, I realised that the actual print was ugly. A collection so cohesively ornamental and kitschy is going to lean too far into that at times, and they were a few overly-fussy moments where it seemed less nudge nudge wink wink and more like Erdem Moralıoğlu fell into his grandma’s wardrobe, stole some fabric, and called it a day. I don’t want to sound like I’m not a fan of the collection because overall it’s gorgeous, I just thought it was a bit much at times.

Continuing with the theme of clever seasonal continuity that weaved its way throughout this year’s A/W offerings, Ermanno Scervino kept the core of his summer collection and made it just that little bit darker, added some weight to everything, and this is one of the rare occasions where I like the winter incarnation a lot more. I’m not huge about either but there’s a lot of things I’d love to wear here, the coats especially.

Up next is a reliable favourite of mine:

Etro.

Was it REALLY necessary for you to include ALL those coats I hear you ask?

Alaska Thunderfuck as Gia Gunn voice: Absolutelyyyy.

When it comes to bohemian fashion, Etro is unbeaten. Everything is always exquisitely coordinated and styled. Like I usually fucking hate aztec print but I love the way it’s done here. I’ve never known a brand to make belts seem like such an integral, tasteful part of the outfit in a field where they so often seem like a last minute addition for the sake of accessorising; it pains me to say it, but Elie Saab, I’m looking at you. It’s your only fault.

Yes for bringing back embroidered jeans! Yes for all those high necks! Yes for the tapestry print! Yes for the Afghan waistcoats! Etro will keep fedoras cool forever and I love them for that; I don’t know if she ever actually wore any of their stuff but I just know Stevie Nicks was in her prime would’ve ate this shit UP and she is my style icon for the ages. Plus, I might be way off base here but a lot of the collection seems to be inspired by traditional Romani style and it’s a beautiful direction to take things, a treasure trove of layers upon layers and rich textures and opulent prints.

I can’t wait til the phase of my phase of my life where I can swan around in maxi dresses and ponchos. I just hope those maxi dresses and ponchos are Etro.

Onto another brand which hasn’t had a bad show since I started my reviews: Fendi. This season, they took their late 60s/early 70s wild child aesthetic and gave a millionaire’s high maintenance wife spin on it, and what’s not to like about that?

I mean, Fendi is a brand which is always going to excel in its F/W presentations-the rich, bohemian prints (pro-tip: if you can’t already tell, me mentioning the word bohemian in a review pretty much guarantees I like the collection), the furs, and the warm colour palette all perfectly translate into clothes suited for walks through a city going through a post-summer burnout, where it rains red and orange leaves. You can tell Silvia Fendi is in her element when she’s got texture to play with, something that comes across in the gorgeous coats Fendi consistently puts out, and this season continues that trend. Plus, there’s a lot of adorable details here-shoes that show off the decorative socks underneath, the cube shaped bags and those furry ear muffs which I hope bring about a high street muff renaissance because they’re the equivalent of slipper socks for my ears and THEY’RE ACTUALLY REALLY PRACTICAL. The only thing I’m not in love with is the mirrored glasses, and I can’t help but think how replacing them with a pair of grandad style aviators would be the icing on the cake for the collection. Maybe I just need to see Miss Robyn Rihanna Fenty wearing them and then I’ll get on board. Usually works.

Ah, GCDS. I got so excited for it after last season but this time round, it was a bit of a disappointment. There were a few outfits that semi-matched up to how cutting-edge I saw their last collection, however a lot of the pieces looked pretty low quality. I get that streetwear is in the name, but it’s supposed to be a high fashion take on that, and a lot of the looks were quite pedestrian. Stand outs are the top 2 rows and the leather motocross style jumpsuit on the far right, third row down, but the quality of these pieces wasn’t consistent across the board and I feel like I ended up having to convince myself I liked some of the others just so I had enough photos to justify including the brand. It really sucks when I look back on how ahead of the game last season’s collection was-we’re talking outfits that wouldn’t be out of place on Instagram’s Tokyofashion page and as far as I’m concerned that’s the fashion holy grail. Some of these looks, especially the menswear, could be from a Boohoo TV ad and that makes me sad.

Meanwhile, Giambattista Valli put out a collection that looked like a virtual postcard of Parisian fashion; if a St-Germain-des-Prés streetwear themed Instagram doesn’t exist already, someone should capitalise on that, stat, because if my typical vision of French feminine fashion is correct it would be full of outfits like this. I feel like this is what a fashion novice EXPECTS Chanel to look like. Trust me-these days the reality is much more disappointing.

There’s many things I'm happy to see here besides the tulle and florals and prettiness I expect of the brand. Obviously the berets and the bows and the elbow length gloves are the kind of off-duty ballerina style touches I’ve become accustomed to but there are also some nice surprises here: the military style white jacket, the unexpected snake motif on clothing that’s otherwise overly delicate, and to my delight the return of the boater hat. IDGAF, this is the summer where I’m buying myself one off Ebay and making this happen for me whether they become a “thing” or not. I shouldn’t squander having this little of a double chin; the opportunity may never present itself again.

I haven’t watched Killing Eve in a longggg time since there’s only so much of two women attempting to kill each other and then miraculously avoiding death you can watch but I’d love to see Vilanelle prancing round a city in this kinda shit slitting some necks again. I hope that doesn’t make me sound like too much of a sadist; only in a purely fictional world is this something I want to see, I assure you.

Givenchy was really, really great this season too, imo. Definitely a step up from the last RTW anyway. Aside from the drama of the exaggerated floppy brim hats and the quirky tassle detail dresses a la Schiaparelli, a lot of these outfits kinda remind me of something a Miranda Priestly/Cruella De Vil type would wear, and you know me; I’m all for that kind of intimidating, about-to-either-slap-you-or-fire-your-ass bad bitch energy. The gathered leather gloves with the androgynous subtly checkered power suits feels CORRECT and if Giambattista Valli is the bottom in this relationship, Givenchy is the top. Am I allowed to reinforce sapphic relationship stereotypes as a bi girl? Probably not. I’m sorry. Won’t do it again. Just this once. And you know I’m right really xoxo

And OMFG Gucci. Another impeccable collection for me, honestly. Once again, it’s probably my favourite of the season. How it is that Alessandro Michelle gets it SO right for me despite his vision being so bold and different every time? He has this specific brand of strange, conceptual beauty which blends past and present trends in a way so supreme it should be considered art. It’s not a term to throw around loosely but the man is a genius, and tbh I’m still not over the human head props from the 2018 F/W winter show.

In my Haute Couture week review, I talked about the Viktor and Rolf collection (which I loved, don’t get me wrong!) and said that pretty meets grunge is my fave thing ever-this is that, but much even more substantial and intelligent. The Wes Anderson-esque pieces or that late 60s/early 70s hipster aesthetic that I loved in last season’s show hasn’t been done away with either-be it the level of detail or the colour scheme, it all somehow fits together. Never did I think I’d see dresses fit for porcelain dolls through the lens of Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen seamlessly slotted in between outfits that could’ve been put together from the clothing rack of Dazed and Confused’s costume department. I want it all-opulent fur-trimmed coats, crucifix jewellery and pilgrim hats I’m sure both Edgar Allan Poe and modern goths would approve of, and the tiered skirts that wouldn’t be out of place in a Westworld saloon. The models were delightfully sad and almost creepy looking and I wouldn’t change that for the world. To say 10/10 doesn’t do it justice, so I’m gonna have to open a reviewer’s can of worms and say 100/100.

Gucci is a tough act to follow, and I’m sorry it has to fall onto the shoulders of Halpern. In the nicest possible way (as if there is any nice way of saying it), I don’t think I any expected anything but a downgrade, so if anything, my standards will be lower so...Michael Halpern, you can thank me I guess?

That was really mean, I’m sorry. It’s not a bad collection, and I definitely like it more than last season’s. It’s a slightly garish colour palette at times but an exciting one in spite of that, which when paired with the animal print dotted throughout makes this collection the perfect fit for a tropical beach party or at the very least, a semi-decent night at the Caribbean themed bar in your local town centre. The sequins and silk, a Halpern trademark, are as tastefully done as ever, and seeing them on the models, I can’t deny these are some power fits-the kind of clothes you are bound to look and feel confident in; if you wanted to play queen of the urban jungle for a night, this is what you need to be wearing.

Ah, Hermes.

Generally not one to stoke a fire inside me. In all fairness, the tailoring here is really, really nice and French biker chic, and the pieces are perfectly crafted-it’s not that I don’t like the outfits because I think that if I saw one of them individually in a natural, messier setting I’d probably be impressed. These are classy, elegant winter looks and what more could you want when you’re looking for outfit inspiration for this season? It’s just that it’s always a little too neat and uniform for me, and on the runway I like my fashion to be risky. This could almost be the sophisticated mother to a Tommy Hilfiger collection and whilst that’s something I would probably wear if I wanted to look put together, it’s not what you get excited to see at fashion week. Primary colours all together aren’t where it’s at for me either, the infamous colour scheme of the cheap plastic playhouses you’d find in the garden of every working/middle class British household back in the day. Yes, I had one. So did the after school club I was forced to attend whilst my mum was at work. Apparently the negative connotations are still too much for me (a boy I went to the after school club with did once fall off the back of one and crack his head open so maybe it’s justified).

Isabel Marant was pretty much exactly what you’d expect from Isabel Marant; if the Etro bohemian woman is one who rolls out of bed and chucks on the first thing she sees, the Isabel Marant bohemian woman is the one who claims she’s done the same thing but who actually planned it all out the night before. She designs for the gluten-free, bikram yoga Kourtney Kardashian style “hippy” who claims to be a free-spirit but would definitely not do acid with you. I was gonna say it was a collection for the Gwyneth Paltrows of the world but then I remembered Gwyneth proudly released a candle she claimed smelled like her vagina and changed my mind-she’d definitely do acid with you.

It’s definitely a cohesive transition from the summer collection; both have that seemingly laid-back, clean-cut vibe, and cater to the rich, impeccably groomed scented candle loving woman everywhere. Obviously the pieces are a tad more suited to an alpine lodge in Switzerland than a beach in Malibu this time round, but that same mild colour palette, pretty, naturalistic patterns, and generally relaxed fit persists. It’s cute enough.

J.W Anderson is a bit of an enigma.

Despite the experimental silhouettes and the kooky details that you think would very “look at me!”, the collections still seem to have a chilled, easy-going feel to them. They toy about with the strange but remain entirely sophisticated whilst doing so-I think it’s because aside from the little quirks that make the garments J.W Anderson, they’re otherwise fairly reserved and simple; even the quirks themselves mostly tend to be exaggerated, more conceptual takes on more typical stylistic motifs anyway. Anderson has a knack for producing statement pieces that don’t look like they’re trying too hard to be statement pieces, a talent he expertly deploys at Loewe as well. Whilst Maison Margiela collections are like the fashion equivalent of that Jughead “I’m weird, I’m a weirdo” speech, J.W Anderson’s refusal to conform is quiet and modest. I like it. It’s not generally my personal style but I can admire the thought behind the work, and there are still some things I’d love to try. I have a few standouts-the shoes with the hoop detailing dancing from the ankle straps, the dress on the bottom right with what appears to be art nouveau typography on, the trench coat with the cape detailing and the gossamer dress to its right are all stunning, especially that dress. If I ever want to dress as the bubble Glinda the Good Witch descends in when she meets Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I know where to go, though I don’t suppose there’s going to be an occasion that calls for that any time soon. Can I just have the dress anyway?

Kim Shui is another new designer I found through blessed Twitter screencaps-thanks guys for doing my research for me. Much appreciated.

But anyways! Like Charlotte Knowles, it’s clear she’s still establishing her aesthetic as a designer, and thus far I love it. The whimsical, throwback prints on urban silhouettes that range from the androgynous suits of city dwelling cool girls to the amped-up sex appeal of nightclub dresses is gorgeous, especially twinned with dainty headscarfs and opera gloves-all in all I think this a very cool and wearable collection and I’m looking forward to the next collection she puts out.

Next up is Lacoste, and IDK why I always include their collections to be honest, considering they’re not really known for “high fashion”. I guess it’s because my dad has collected Lacoste shirts since I was little so I kinda have a soft spot for it and feel obligated to include it every time presentation season comes around. Yes, the outfits are unbearably preppy and the colours are garish but I feel like that’s kind of the appeal? So what if some of the tracksuits look like they could’ve been pulled out of a bad mafia movie? I see the argyle jumpers, with a bit of wear and tear, as a charity shop gem my sister would come across (she has the #Y2K Depop girl knack for finding old designer pieces in the shittiest charity shops without the audacity to try and sell them at a 70% markup) that I would then steal from her wardrobe to wear myself, contrasted with a ripped mini skirt, chains and and docs. I see the POTENTIAL of a look that is very fuck you to the rich middle age tory styling we see here. It’s punk, okay?

Lanvin was STUNNING this time around. Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching Mad Men recently and it reminds me of the fashion on that-which I hope somebody won an award for at the time BTW, it is SO fucking good-but I just adore every look here. I can’t even remember if I reviewed Lanvin’s SS20 show, and so clearly if I did it wasn’t that memorable (no shade intended), however this collection is a different story. Every single one of these outfits is iconic movie moment worthy, a 60s Cher Horowitz plaid two piece equivalent that would get screencapped and replicated ad-nauseam, all the best looks of Betty Draper and Peggy Olsen and Joan Holloway and Megan Calvet brought together and refined for the modern day woman. I might even consider sacrificing my anti-royalist principles if it meant I could transport myself back in time and switch bodies with Grace Kelly so I could make this collection my princess-off-duty wardrobe and drive around Monaco in that Bella Hadid look, roof down, all the drama of the fur trim and the gloves and hair whipping about in the wind (but in this unrealistic vision I can actually see what I’m doing and I’m not choking on random strands and swearing at Mother Nature as if she is a real entity with a personal vendetta against me).

Loewe! More J.W Anderson! I’m gonna try not to repeat myself by arsekissing too much all over again and get the good points out of the way quickly! So rapid fire: elegant! Delicious colour palette! Interesting shapes! I think I’m seeing a Victorian/Edwardian influence there! Correct me if I’m wrong! I like it! The coats are strong! Remind me of the suffragettes! But lets pretend in this case these Loewe style coat wearing suffragettes are not raging classists!

AH. Apart from that, it was a bit too austere for me. I definitely preferred Anderson’s eponymous collection; there were a fair few recurring details in this show that I couldn’t get behind that I didn’t include, in particular this bib-like black panel that just kept popping up on everything. Sorry J.W Anderson. But a 50% success rate is still good! And at the end of the day, having 2 collections on Vogue Runway at once is more prestigious than the accumulative total of every accomplishment I’ll probably ever have achieved in my life by the time I’m on my deathbed so what do I know anyway? Sigh:( At least I’ll always have the honour of having the largest head by circumference of my class in year 4, right *sweats nervously*!?!?!

Louis Vuitton was definitely a downgrade on last season for me. There were for sure elements I liked-the Vera Wang-esuqe mixing of the tulle bustle skirts with the rougher, more masculine biker inspired vests and jackets was a cool choice, reminiscent of Gucci’s mixing of the lace dresses with harnesses. I enjoyed the baroque jackets and subtle nods to steampunk style too. Though we’ve already seen it a lot this season, the wet look coat with fur trim I can’t help falling in love with, and I’m immune to the potential ugliness of the muted blue monotone look purely on the basis I can picture Ripley from Alien in it. So like I said-it’s not as if I hated it. I guess when it comes down to it, the collection wasn’t bad so much as I just had higher hopes. I will say though, the staging was INCREDIBLE. As a history nerd, I never thought I’d see the day when a Henry the 8th lookalike actor was part of the backdrop of a Paris fashion week show-and I always thought there was no interesting career path for me in the subject!

And another big name I don’t tend to be so partial to, Maison Margiela. IDK, I did like last season but I wasn’t a fan of haute couture and it took me a while to warm to this. Call it deconstructed, experimental, whatever, but you know when you can’t decide what to wear and you’re in a rush so you kinda just throw all the shit you decided against into a pile? Well, my initial thought was that this season Margiela is kinda that, on the runway.

I will say, once I let go of my need to see a clear shape, a lot of the individual pieces were stunning (NOT the puffed up tabis though, I still can’t even get behind the regular ones). I guess I just wish they’d go for less is more with the styling because as it currently stands, it makes it hard to actually take the clothes in.

Ultimately, one thing you can always say about Margiela, like their clothes or not, is that it has a monopoly on being effortlessly bold.

Marc Jacobs I really liked again, though I will say it doesn’t stand out quite like the S/S collection did. That was absolutely STUNNING-I can’t remember specifically where I ranked it in my top ten but I know it was at least in the top 5. This, on the other hand, is...pretty. It’s very pretty, and very put together, so I’m not saying at all that I don’t rate it. I suppose it’s just a lot simpler than I expected it to be-I don’t have a problem with simplicity, at all, especially if it’s what a brand is known for but I feel like part of the appeal with Marc Jacobs is that it’s pretty kooky. I mean, not Thom Browne or Margiela kooky, but commercial kooky at least. I feel like the kookiness is lacking here? And that’s where this feeling is coming from? And also, the fact that Lanvin tackled the same era and did it a lot better? So there’s that, too. Plus, I adore Miley Cyrus but...why? Random celebrities waking the runway just doesn’t do it for me-it always comes across as a publicity grab, as if the designer isn’t confident enough in their collection’s ability to get people talking on its own, and I suppose in this case that says it all really.

Margaret Howell was...well, Margaret Howell. She’s known for her basics, and they’re always pretty non-offensive “regulation hottie” in the words of the icon that is Damian from Mean Girls. It’s been, what, four years? More? Since I last watched that film but I’m pretty sure watching it about twenty times between the ages of 9 and 15 tattooed it on my brain. I include her because even though they don’t get my pulse racing, I like these pieces; considering the fact that expecting straight white men to ever have style on the level of barbiedrugz (his instagram is my favourite thing ever) or Rickey Thompson is ludicrous, Margaret Howell’s menswear looks are probably are the best, realistic goal for any future partner. Because I like my men dressed like Paddington bear/a depressed Brown University English lit lecturer, okay? Or in other words, Will Graham from Hannibal.

Marine Serre had a few good moments-the looks that I liked were the ones that stayed within her lane of blending the weird with the visually appealing. There were a lot of cool things going on, and I like the utility vibe (the boot with the pouch detailing and the mask are perfect examples of this done well), but outside the fits I picked out a lot of it went over my head tbh.

Marques Almeida is a show I was looking forward to-it has such a youthful, experimental quality to its collections (it’s no surprise the designers said they were influenced by the HBO show Euphoria this year!), similar to Central Saint Martins, and you can tell the designers (Marta Marques and Paulo Almeida) are based in London too; we are talking about the birthplace of the punk fashion movement, and as a designer it’s probably almost a rite of passage that you incorporate elements of that into your work. Marques Almeida does that with a flair and consistency you can count on. Their clothes don’t have the wildest silhouettes or anything like that but the fun they have playing around with print and colour and the ease and confidence with which they settle on those combinations always comes through-the black and white coat with the yellow furs trim is one of my favourite pieces from the entirety of this season’s offerings.

I wasn’t so fond of Max Mara’s SS20 collection and I'm not gonna lie, this isn’t THAT much of a step up for me personally. It’s just one of those brands I feel obligated to include because it’s talked about quite a bit but I’m not totally sure if it’s for me. Too monotone, but I’ll give it another season! And I mean, there is a slight improvement here-this collection is a lot more laid back than the stiff, austere feel of the last, and there are some very well fitted and structured pieces. A lot of the looks kinda remind me of a 2020, fashion take on The Breakfast Club’s “Basket Case”, which is kinda cool, and just from looking at the clothes, the high price tag is palpable. Also, scruffy hair club unite! Though obviously it’s intentional here! That’ll be my excuse for the next time I turn up at work looking like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards-Max Mara made me do it.

Ending on those words of wisdom, I’m gonna bring this post to a close, because I can’t fit any more photos in! I’m desperately hoping that I can fit this all into 3 parts like I did with my last RTW review but even if I do have to make 4 posts, I still include my top 10 shows as I did before. I hope to get that post up within the next couple of weeks! After that, I’ve shot a Lana Del Rey inspired by each of her different albums and “era”s though given last week’s events I’m on the fence about whether to post it or not, especially given her silence over the last couple of days. I’m really proud of what I’ve put together and I’ll always love her art and music (I have 2 bloody tattoos, for fuck’s sake!), so I’m trying to think how I can reconcile that with those awfully worded posts and just the general lack of awareness of bigger issues that she’s displayed the last week. JFC, being a Lana stan has always been so chilled up until now. All the very valid and important takes aside, that “Lana pls delete that post and apologise, we can’t fight the barbz all your stans are depressed” tweet is the only good thing to come out of this shitshow. He got a point. Breathing feels like effort lately:( IDK, if you’re also a Lana stan and you have any opinions on the matter, feel free to DM me, because I’m feeling pretty conflicted rn.

Most importantly though, are the issues I opened this post by talking about, and I thought I’d finish by including the thread of petitions I saw on Twitter. Like I said, a lot of them aren’t available to sign in the UK but to anyone who read up until this point (thank you!) idk where you’re reading from so maybe some of them will apply to you:

https://twitter.com/yericvIt/status/1265801832930045953

Also, while we’re at it, because every tory voting twat seems to treat our country as if it’s some beacon of hope where racism is non-existent and love to tell PoC to stop moaning about their experiences, here’s a thread of black British men and women who have lost their lives to police violence:

https://twitter.com/illh0eminati/status/1266441604170223617

Thank you for reading until the end. I hope that you enjoyed the fashion part of the post but also that if you did read this far, you read the other bits too if you didn’t know what was going on already. It seems like everyone does but you forget that Twitter’s a bit of an echo chamber and that outside of it, there’s a lot of ignorance, whether intentional or not. I know Tumblr has a similar audience to Twitter so I imagine there’s loads on here about everything going on too, but ya know. I wanted to talk about it just incase.

Stay safe, keep fighting the good fight, and again, thank you for reading!<3

Lauren x

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ominousunflower · 5 years

Text

New Tradition

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir / Luka Couffaine Rating: T Word count: 4195

Fic summary: Luka stays home on New Year’s Eve, hoping that Chat Noir will visit for a midnight kiss.

Read previous fics on AO3

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On New Year’s Eve, with thirty minutes until midnight, Luka stands on the deck of the Liberty and scans the sky for Chat Noir.

He doesn’t know for a fact that Chat is going to show up. In fact, Luka knows he’s taking a risk by staying home on the off chance that the superhero will visit. For all he knows, he could end up spending the night by himself.

A freezing wind sweeps across the deck of the houseboat, and Luka adjusts his clothes, tugging his hat over his ears and pulling his scarf up over his mouth. At least he’s dressed for the weather for once.

On both sides of the Seine, crowds have gathered to wait for midnight and watch the fireworks together. Luka knows that there are similar groups scattered across Paris—and that somewhere, Juleka and his mother are gathered with friends as they count down to the new year. He’d been invited to go with them, of course, but he’d declined.

Luka was a little concerned by the knowing looks his mother and sister gave him as they left, though. He really hopes that they don’t know about his visits from Chat Noir.

He glances at the empty sky again, and then he retrieves his phone from his coat pocket and pulls up his last conversation with Adrien. It’s a long shot, but he still thinks that Adrien and Chat might be the same person. Maybe if he texts Adrien a hint…

Luka sighs, repocketing his phone. He’s being stupid. Even if he’s right about Adrien being Chat, Luka doesn’t know how to be subtle. His text would probably end up going something like, Bonne année! So, you’re Chat Noir, right?

A few more minutes pass, and Luka spends them brooding over his relationship with Chat. He wishes that Chat would have just approached him as a civilian, because falling for a superhero has made Luka’s life far messier than it has to be.

Luka is horrible at romance—he’s too awkward, too blunt—and thanks to this arrangement, he can’t exactly ask his family or friends for help with wooing Chat. And of course, standard relationship advice doesn’t help when Luka is dealing with an enigmatic cat superhero. He can’t talk to Chat’s friends to figure out how Chat feels about him, or invite Chat to hang out with Kitty Section so that Luka’s bandmates can tell him if Chat seems to like him.

His only clues are mixed signals, and the fact that Chat keeps kissing him. While that second part should tell Luka where Chat stands, he can’t help but worry that Chat is just being flirtatious. After all, isn’t he supposed to have a thing for Ladybug? Maybe he’s not serious about Luka after all. Maybe he’s up on a rooftop somewhere spending New Year’s Eve with Ladybug.

Despite the layers he’s wearing, Luka feels a chill creep across his skin. It seems as if this is a cycle that Luka’s doomed to repeat: meet someone, fall for them, feel a connection…and then watch as that person pines after someone else, pulling farther and farther away from Luka until they slip through his fingers completely.

It had happened with Marinette, of course, though she hadn’t been the first. Although she’d sometimes accepted Luka’s advances, she was always quietly pining for Adrien. And that’s not her fault, of course—Luka doesn’t blame her for who she loves, or for her great taste in guys—but it still made him feel like he’d done something wrong.

Luka’s mother has always told him that love is like a song: different for every person, and always from the heart. And for a while, Luka’s inner romantic had thought that his mother’s simile, as simple as it was, made sense.

Sometimes love is slow, creeping up on a person over time; and sometimes it’s fast, sudden, a coup de foudre that hits two people out of the blue. It might be loud and passionate, or it might be soft and simple, or it might even switch between the two. The song could repeat itself at times, with a comfortably familiar refrain—or it might be ever-changing, with each verse sounding like an entirely new song. And while some loves grow stronger with time, a steady crescendo, others fade out, growing quieter until the song can’t be heard anymore.

Now, Luka’s pretty sure that’s wrong. If love was a song, he would understand it. And it’s never been that easy. No, love is some sort of game—and Luka plays music, not games. That’s the only explanation for why he’s so bad at this.

Before Luka can torture himself with more thoughts about his failed love life, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He smiles when he sees that it’s a text from Adrien. Hey, Luka! Twenty minutes until 2020. Hope you’re ready to ring in the new year!

I guess I am, Luka responds. Are you stuck at home, or did your father let you out?

I’m at home, Adrien texts, apparently deciding to ignore Luka’s comment about his father. What about you?

Luka squints at his phone screen, bright against the shadows of the deck. If Adrien is Chat—and he almost has to be, really—is this his way of asking Luka if he can come over?

“Say what you mean,” Luka mutters, as he types his response. Maman and Juleka went out. I’m home by myself right now. If I’m lucky, maybe someone will show up to kiss me at midnight, but I’m not counting on it.

As he hits send, he knows that his reply is too bitter. For one thing, he doesn’t actually know that Adrien is Chat, so Adrien probably doesn’t deserve Luka’s irritation. And for another, it’s not like it’s Chat’s duty to show up and kiss Luka. For all Luka knows, he’s patrolling with Ladybug right now to keep the city safe on New Year’s Eve.

But, well…Luka has expectations. Chat has kissed him for the past three holidays, one of which France doesn’t even celebrate. The least he could do is kiss Luka on the one holiday where there’s actually a kissing tradition.

A few minutes pass, and Adrien doesn’t respond. Luka considers sending a follow-up text to apologize for being so negative, but he doesn’t want to make things worse. Instead, he just slips his phone back into his pocket and stares out at the water, wondering if maybe he should go join his family after all.

He won’t be upset if Chat doesn’t visit. Sure, he’ll be a little disappointed—but he won’t let it ruin his holiday. It’s not the end of the world if Chat doesn’t kiss him a fourth time.

Someone clears their throat behind him. “Salut, Luka.”

Luka whirls around. “Cha—Chat Noir?”

He says it as a question, because he’s not actually sure. The boy in front of him certainly resembles Chat: he has pale hair—probably blonde, though it’s hard to tell in the dim light—and he’s the same height as Chat, the same build. His voice is just as smooth and lilting, like a song without a tune, and his eyes sparkle the same as he stares at Luka.

But he’s also more fidgety than Chat. His movements are smaller, not as bold, as if he’s not sure he should be at the houseboat. And most importantly of all, his outfit is different. He’s still wearing a mask, but it’s a decorative masquerade mask with glitter and an elaborate border. Instead of cat ears, he’s wearing a beanie on his head, and instead of a leather suit, he’s wearing a black coat and scarf.

The boy wrings his hands together. Luka notices that he’s wearing mittens. “Uh—I mean—that—is that who you want?”

Luka folds his arms and regards the boy. “Am I supposed to guess your identity?” he asks. He’d always assumed that if he did figure out Chat’s identity, Chat wouldn’t want Luka to say anything.

The boy drags a mitten-clad hand down his face. “I’m Chat Noir,” he says. “You—you probably shouldn’t guess my identity. Ladybug’s already going to kill me for visiting a civilian so often. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“You’re not transformed,” Luka observes.

Chat rubs the back of his neck. “Right. I figured that since there are so many people near the Liberty right now, I should probably try to blend in.” He shrugs. “There are enough New Year’s Eve masquerade parties that no one questioned the mask. They probably just thought I was on my way to a party.”

“Are you?” Luka asks, even though he’s almost certain the answer is no.

Chat shakes his head and finally takes a few steps closer. “No. I came to see you.” He bites on his lip. “Unless—uh, unless you’re going to a party? Because I don’t want to keep you from, you know, your friends or…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Luka says. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Chat takes another few steps toward Luka, until he’s close enough that Luka could take his hand if he tried. “You seem a little…upset?”

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” Luka admits. “You didn’t have to, of course. It was a stupid reason to be upset.”

“I’m sorry!” Chat says. He reaches down and grabs Luka’s hands. “I assumed you’d be out celebrating. It didn’t occur to me until a few minutes ago that you might be here.”

When I texted you? Luka wants to ask. But he knows he can’t ask Chat about his identity so directly.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Luka says, squeezing Chat’s hands. They can’t intertwine their fingers since he’s wearing mittens—and oh, he’s adorable in those mittens—but the weight of Chat’s palms against Luka’s is comforting. “I didn’t interrupt your plans, did I?”

Chat smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I was home alone. I would have visited sooner if I’d known you were here.”

Not for the first time, Luka is frustrated by their arrangement. Thanks to Chat being a superhero with a secret identity, Luka has no way of inviting him over or visiting him when he’s lonely. And there’s a churning in his gut, an urge to demand how long are we going to keep this up?—except he doesn’t want to ruin the night. It’s New Year’s Eve, and Luka doesn’t want to start the new year on a bad note.

Luka leans forward with a smile. “Hoping to celebrate some New Year’s traditions?”

Chat stares at Luka with wide eyes. Then he ducks his head, hiding his mouth behind his scarf. “M-maybe?”

“Well,” Luka says, “I have bad news. Maman is firmly against holiday traditions, so we’ve got a strict no-mistletoe policy here.”

Chat’s nose wrinkles. “That’s a lie,” he says. “She had Krampus. Krampus is a holiday tradition.”

“Krampus is no longer with us,” Luka points out, “since you dumped him in the Seine last week.”

Eyes squeezed shut, Chat buries his face against Luka’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whines. “I wasn’t thinking. And Krampus was terrifying.”

Luka laughs and wraps his arms around Chat. “I’m not mad,” he says. “Maman was furious, but she thinks it was the work of vandals.”

“Now I can never meet your mother,” Chat mumbles against Luka’s coat. “I bet she can smell fear. She’ll know it was me.”

“Is there a reason I’d be formally introducing you to my mother?” Luka asks, hope unfurling in his chest. Please say there is. Say we have something.

“Not unless you’re planning to turn me in.” Chat glances up with big, pleading eyes. In that moment, Luka realizes that he would do many, many things for those eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

Luka laughs, even as disappointment needles his heart. “No. I won’t tell her.” His fingers brush against Chat’s masquerade mask. “I’m good at keeping secrets, you know.”

Chat inhales and opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something. He stares at Luka for a long moment, some mix of emotions warring in his eyes—and then he sighs and shakes his head. “I know,” he says quietly. Then he clears his throat. “So, Anarka Couffaine doesn’t allow a single holiday tradition on this boat? Not even one?”

Luka pokes Chat’s cheek. “Nope,” he says. “Although…” He leans down, closer to Chat, until their lips are almost touching. “There is one tradition she might make an exception for.”

Chat tilts his head back. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Fireball swinging.”

Chat squints at Luka. Luka can practically hear the record scratch playing in his mind. “What.”

“It’s a Stonehaven Hogmanay tradition.”

Luka watches as Chat tries to process his words. He tries not to laugh, but the confusion on Chat’s face is endearing.

And maybe Luka shouldn’t tease, except he kind of wants Chat to work for this kiss. Luka’s doubts from earlier still haven’t disappeared completely, and he wants to see if Chat is really interested in him or not.

“Hogmanay?” Chat echoes.

“Scottish New Year’s, basically,” Luka says. “We have relatives near Stonehaven, so we’ve visited once or twice to celebrate.”

With a frown, Chat loops his arms around Luka’s neck, preparing for a kiss that he’s not getting anytime soon. “So what is fireball swinging?”

“It’s…people swing fireballs?” Luka says, laughing. “They process down the street, and at the end of the ceremony, they throw the fireballs into the harbor.”

“That sounds kind of pretty,” Chat says.

“It is,” Luka agrees. He stares out at the sidewalk, imagining fiery rings lighting up the streets. Right now, the only light is from the dim stars and street lights overhead. “That said,” he adds, glancing at Chat, “I’m not sure I’d trust you to swing a giant ball of fire around here.”

“Quoi!” Chat says. “But I wield the Miraculous of Destruction!”

Luka laughs. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

“I’d be careful,” Chat grumbles.

“Sure,” Luka says. His hands find their way to Chat’s waist, and it occurs to him that they’re basically in a kissing position. “You know midnight’s not for another few minutes, right?”

Chat smirks, though there’s something vulnerable in his eyes that softens his expression. Luka wonders if maybe it’s the fact that he has human eyes instead of cat sclerae. “I wanted to get here early,” he says. “In your arms, I mean. Just in case someone else tried to beat me to it.”

“Oh?” Luka says. “Is someone else competing for my affection?”

Silently, he asks an even simpler question: is Chat competing for Luka’s affection? Or is he still pursuing Ladybug?

“I—I don’t know,” Chat says. The smirk slips off his face. “I thought maybe Marinette was…well…”

“Visiting the houseboat every holiday to kiss me?” Luka says, raising an eyebrow. “No, I think that’s just you.”

“But don’t you like each other?”

That’s a question Luka has asked himself several times over the past several weeks, and with each one of Chat’s visits, the answer has become increasingly clear. It’s been weeks since Luka wrote a song about Marinette, weeks since he dreamed about kissing her, weeks since her gaze made his palms sweaty. Luka still cares about her, of course—but their song has changed entirely, and the affection he has for her is almost completely platonic now.

Almost. Because occasionally, there’s still a sliver of his brain that wonders what if. What if Marinette asked him out tomorrow? What if she took his hand, or cupped his cheek and kissed him? Luka can’t entirely forget that he used to want her like that, and sometimes, the thought of having her love still makes his heart skip a beat.

But he knows that’s not really what he wants anymore. The person he wants is right in front of him, cradled in his arms right now—and yet, somehow, Chat seems even more unobtainable than the girl who’s turned Luka down several times.

“I have no idea how Marinette feels about me,” Luka finally says. “But I’m not really interested in her that way anymore.”

“Oh,” Chat says. He blinks several times. “Uh, good. So I don’t have to fight anyone for that midnight kiss?”

“What midnight kiss?” Luka says, struggling to keep a straight face. “I told you, there’s no mistletoe on this boat. Maman doesn’t approve of traditions like kissing under le gui.”

“Not a problem,” Chat says, his voice sing-song. “I came prepared.”

Luka frowns. “You brought mistletoe with you?”

Of course he did. Did Luka really expect Chat to take chances with these holiday kisses?

Chat laughs. “Technically, I didn’t bring it,” he says. “Look up.”

Slowly, Luka tilts his head back to gaze above them. Some sort of tiny figure is floating between him and Chat in the darkness, dangling a sprig of mistletoe overhead.

“Honestly,” the floating blob says, “I can’t believe you roped me into your ridiculous holiday ritual. No amount of cheese is worth this.”

Realization dawns on Luka. He gazes down at Chat in disbelief, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re using your kwami to hold mistletoe?”

Chat nods. “I’m very committed.”

“And I’m very exasperated,” Chat’s kwami says. “If you want to kiss guitar boy so badly—”

“Plagg!” Chat says.

Luka laughs. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that,” he says. “You got me.”

Grinning, Chat asks, “So, do I get my kiss?”

“Say yes, s’il vous plaît,” Plagg says. “He’ll complain all night if you don’t do that bizarre thing with your mouths.”

“Plagg,” Chat whines.

“I don’t know,” Luka says. “I’m impressed, but we don’t really honor tradition around here. I’m not sure if I should make an exception.”

“Luka,” Chat says, pouting. His hat starts to slip off his hair, and Luka reaches up to tug it back down. “You know how the tradition works. Are you really going to condemn me to a year of loneliness?”

“You know,” Luka says, “that’s a good point. That would be pretty cruel of me.”

“Exactly.” Chat presses closer, until there’s barely any space between his and Luka’s bodies. “And you’re too kind for that, Luka.”

Plagg groans. “Disgusting. I wish I was in my ring right now. Or at home eating cheese. What kind of torture is this?”

Sighing, Chat reaches up and tries to snatch the mistletoe from Plagg’s paws—but Plagg floats just out of reach, narrowly avoiding his hand.

“Plagg,” Chat says, “if you’re going to have such an attitude, just give me the mistletoe.”

“Absolutely not,” Plagg says. “You promised me copious amounts of cheese for this. I’m holding up my end of the deal.”

“You bribed your kwami?” Luka says.

Chat rolls his eyes. “He never helps unless he’s getting something in return.” He glares up at Plagg. “Can you just be quiet for a few minutes?”

“Hm,” Plagg says. “Maybe. It depends on whether or not you’re willing to sweeten the deal.”

Chat groans, and Luka can’t help but laugh. There’s something bizarrely entertaining (and sweet) about watching Chat barter with his kwami to secure some mistletoe.

“What do you want?” Chat asks.

“A dozen extra wheels of cheese,” Plagg says. “Imported.”

“Père is going to think I’m insane,” Chat says. “Did you know Na—his assistant tried to stage an intervention about my consumption of camembert? You’re ruining my life.”

“That’s not my problem,” Plagg says. “Do we have a deal, or not?”

Chat glances between Luka and Plagg a few times, then lets out a frustrated sigh. “Eight wheels,” he says.

“Ten.”

“Fine!” Chat snaps. “Now be quiet until this is done.”

Luka tugs lightly at Chat’s scarf, pulling it down below his chin so that his lips are completely uncovered. “You know, I’m glad you got that sorted out,” Luka says, “but I still haven’t decided if your tradition should be allowed on the Liberty.”

“You know what I think?” Chat says. His eyes glint with determination, and maybe that reaction is a little over-the-top, but Luka kind of appreciates Chat’s dedication to making out with him. “I think your ban on traditions has become a tradition. And if you’re really anti-tradition, you’ll lift the traditional ban on traditions.”

Luka closes his eyes, trying to make sense of Chat’s winding logic. “Chat,” he says. “Please don’t make me start the new year with a headache.”

“Well, then, don’t think about it too much,” Chat says. “Just agree that I’m right.”

“You’re pretty stubborn,” Luka notes.

“So am I getting a kiss?” Chat asks with a toothy smile.

Luka laughs. “I guess I could give you one,” he says. “But you’ll have to wait another minute or two.”

Soon, the crowds along the river begin to yell out numbers. Luka struggles to understand them at first, but somewhere around thirty, he realizes what they’re saying.

A few moments later, Chat whispers, “Twenty seconds.”

“Twenty seconds until 2020?” Luka says.

If Chat notices that Luka’s echoed Adrien’s text from earlier, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he wraps his arms more tightly around Luka’s neck and tugs him closer. Luka lifts a hand to cup one of Chat’s cheeks, which makes Chat laugh for some reason.

He taps the back of Luka’s neck. “I can’t do much with mittens. No fingers—it’s like having paws.”

“Oh,” Luka says. “Well, they look cute, at least.”

Chat ducks his head, and around them, the last countdown begins.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six...

Luka takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the side, lining their lips up. “Three,�� he murmurs.

“Two,” Chat says.

And then the streets and sidewalks around them erupt in whoops and cheers, signaling midnight. Luka doesn’t waste a second, pulling Chat’s lips against his while his other arm holds Chat’s waist as tightly as possible.

Chat’s hands paw at Luka’s hair, knocking Luka’s hat sideways. Luka responds in kind, yanking Chat’s hat off and running gloved fingers through his hair. Before he can get much farther than that, though, the fireworks start with a loud BOOM overhead.

Chat jumps, his lips breaking away from Luka’s. “S-sorry,” he says, eyes wide. “I’m not a big fan of fireworks. They’re too—”

He yelps as a round of fireworks cracks and booms overhead, then buries his face against Luka’s chest. Luka kisses his forehead—now bare without the hat Luka tossed—and strokes Chat’s hair to soothe him.

“Too loud,” Chat mumbles, nuzzling Luka’s torso. “Usually I’m inside, so fireworks don’t bother me as much, but…”

He flinches as a particularly loud blast goes off, and Luka pats Chat’s back. “How about we go downstairs?” he says. “It should be quieter down there.”

Chat nods. Luka bends over to retrieve his hat, then grabs his hand and leads him below deck. Once they’re downstairs, the thundering of the fireworks is muted, though still audible.

In the light of the kitchen, Luka can suddenly see the features that were muted by the monochrome evening light outside. Chat’s hair is just as blond when he’s not transformed, and his eyes are the same sparkling green, just without the cat shape. They’re earnest, and soft, and bright, and—well, Luka’s pretty sure he’s already fallen for Chat, but if he hadn’t, Chat’s eyes would have done the trick.

Chat tilts his head to the side. “What is it?”

“You’re pretty,” Luka says. He tugs Chat’s hat back onto his head, flattening his messy curls.

“So are you,” Chat says.

Luka raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get another kiss?”

“No,” Chat says. “I just wasn’t sure if you knew how pretty you are.” He reaches down and plucks off one of his mittens, then reaches up to cradle Luka’s cheek. “That said, our kiss did get interrupted, so…”

After a quick glance upward to confirm, Luka says, “Your mistletoe’s gone, you know.”

Chat sighs. “It’s somewhere on this boat. Isn’t that good enough?”

Luka wraps his arms around Chat’s waist once again. “I guess I can make an exception. But, you know, I’ve been wondering…” His nose brushes against Chat’s. “Are your holiday kisses going to be a tradition, too?”

“They could be,” Chat says. “If you want me to come back.”

“There are still a few holidays you haven’t done yet.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Chat smiles up at Luka, his cheeks pink with a blush. “Bonne année, Luka.”

“Bonne année, Chat,” Luka says.

Then he kisses Chat again, with added enthusiasm to make up for the fireworks that interrupted them earlier. And as their lips meet and their hands hold each other close, Luka decides that if he can just spend this coming year with Chat, that might be enough.

And maybe Luka has a chance with him. He just needs a few more holidays, a few more kisses, and maybe he can convince Chat to stop running away.

After about a minute of kissing, Luka leans back and says, “You’re coming back for Valentine’s Day, right?”

Chat’s only answer to that is to capture Luka’s lips in another kiss.

#holiday kiss series #my fic #full fic

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arisu-artnfics · 6 years

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An Akuma on Konoha - 3

Summary: The class is going to Japan as a last school trip of the year; but what would happen if an akuma attacks when they are arriving and that made them travel to another universe where they meet ninjas and those ninjas are around 17 years old; what would happen, is there will be a reveal or how would they are going back to Paris? Beta by: @rendevok & @lily-codie19 Also on: DA/FF/AO3/FB Original published date: March 29, 2018

Previous/Next Spanish version if this chapter

Cover, art by me: *http://fav.me/daxtkrp (February 4, 2017)

Chapter 3: “A small adventure”

Once all the students, teachers, and the principal had been escorted to what would be their new temporary home, the principal gave them a half hour to locate and settle into their respective rooms - or what they thought to be rooms. When the principal saw the blueprints, he thought that the design was weird to have such a spread out distribution. But, he had sworn that what had been confirmed as small houses for one person, was bigger than just a room. Once inside one, his suspicions were confirmed. They were definitely bigger than what he thought. At least they were what they seemed to be - a living space with a bit of everything. The inside was divided into many parts; a personal bedroom, a toilet and bath, a small kitchen and dining room, and a living room. There was even a small laundry room which included an old washing machine, something similar to a dryer, and even an area to hang-dry clothing. On the top floor, Marinette could hardly believe that they were in a different reality, and even less so that they were so easily accepted and distributed into living quarters just like that. She knew that sooner or later she would need to find a way to separate from the group and transform into Ladybug to investigate, because the akuma couldn’t be that far away and she knew very well that she alone had to stop the akuma in their tracks. On either side of the hall, the last six houses were distributed, among them were Naruto’s and Sasuke's houses. Once they had arrived and finished guiding the rest of the people into their respective homes, team seven and Sai went to Naruto’s after he insisted they continue hanging out together like old times.

“Oh c’mon! Don’t tell me that you are not at least a little bit curious to know where they are from or how they came-ttebayo.” “It’s not that Naruto. You can’t just go and introduce yourself just like that to a group of strangers. It doesn’t matter if it looks like they don’t even know where they are - there is nothing sure about them.” “In reality, Sakura, there is one,” Sai interjected. “What?” was her only answer. “Well, in Root, they taught us to not show emotions...” “Mmmm,” said Sasuke, seeing where he was going with his thought. “And then what?” asked Naruto. “Well, simple, Naruto-kun. They also taught us to see if someone was lying through the expressions that are shown.” “What was the conclusion that you came to?” asked Sasuke seriously. “Oh, well, Sasuke-kun... Until now all the people that I had observed while they had been explaining themselves in Kakashi-sama’s office - they spoke the truth. They don’t know where they are, nor how they came, but…” “But?” Sakura asked this time. “A lot look like they were preoccupied and/or scared. Also the word ‘akuma’... that seemed like it was a key part of this situation. It had been mentioned at least once by one of the members of every team - including the last one. One of the students murmured something like ‘About time, stupid akuma ruining everything’.” “What are we waiting for?!! Ttebayo!! We have to find that akuma - whatever it is - and stop it!” “Naruto…” Sakura said, stopping Naruto. “Dobe,” said Sasuke, who was watching the situation. “Naruto-Kun, although what you say could solve this dilemma, I think that akuma was what you and Sasuke-Kun sent back to wherever all these people came from.” “Mmmm…” was the only thing Sasuke said. “I see,” said Sakura, who then turned to look at Sasuke. “Sasuke-Kun?” “Hn? What happened?” “If for now we can’t do much than wait for it to return, what are you going to do?” “…I’ll go to my room.” “Hey, teme, wait! So soon? Don’t you all want to stay a little longer? I insist to go to introduce ourselves!!!!” he said with a smile which was promptly wiped off his face when Sakura sent him flying into the wall by the door with a single hit. “Dobe.” “Buah, Sakura-chan, that wasn’t necessary.” “Well, I’m sorry Naruto-Kun, but I have to return to the tower. I really only came here to guide the people,” spoke Sai, leaving while smiling his typical smile. In the next room over, Adrien was still processing all that had happened. It was becoming more than clear that the blonde and dark haired boys were, respectively, Naruto and Sasuke, and the girl with the pink hair was none other than Sakura. There was no doubt that they had been in front of the current hokage, Kakashi. Since being on the plane, nothing about what he had seen made any sense. One moment, he had been asking himself how to transform and save everyone from the akuma in the plane, but then from seemingly nowhere, Naruto and Sasuke appear. Then the plane was landing and everyone was guided to the emergency exists in a calm orderly fashion. People acted as though it weren’t a catastrophe, as they gathered their belongings. It wasn’t the expected or normal response, but at the very least there wasn’t any imminent danger. “Hey, Adrien,” Plagg spoke, pulling Adrien out of his thoughts. He was mentally noting the exact place where they had landed, because he knew that later or sooner he should return to investigate as Chat Noir. “What happened, Plagg? Do you think we will be brought back home just by stopping the akuma?” “I don’t know kid, but do you have cheeeeese…? I’m starving.” "When no? Look in the small cooler that I stashed inside my suitcase. By the way, you are lucky that they didn’t pass through x-rays, because I could have gotten in serious trouble. You know that, right?” “Relax, that wouldn’t happen.” “How can you be so sure?” “Well… I don’t know,” Plagg said, shrugging, “I’m just hungry. Cheese, please!” “I know, I know...” Adrien grumbled, shuffling around to find the small cooler, opening it, and then extracting a slice of camembert from its container, giving it to Plagg. “I’ll put the rest in the refrigerator that I saw in the kitchen. Don’t even think about eating it all at once, understood?” “Whatever you say.” “I’m serious Plagg, I only packed a small amount of cheese. It wouldn’t be that much of an issue if we were in Japan, because it’s possible to find a replacement. But we are in Konoha. In Konoha. Do you understand me??” “Honestly, no,” Plagg responded after swallowing the cheese slice he was given. “I don’t know what or where Konoha is -- never heard it.” “Of course not, it’s not a real place! We are in the Naruto manga…” Adrien pauses and finds a lost look on his kwami’s face. “It’s fiction Plagg-- fake.” “I know what fiction is, kid. But I noticed that everything here looks unquestionably fake.” “They’re the same thing, Plagg…” “Look, Adrien, you and I saw the akuma in the plane right?” “Yes.” “Well then it’s simple: That akuma is the one responsible for all of this. Don’t ask so many questions that don’t have answers. I know you’re going to search for the akuma sooner or later, right?” Adrien nods. “Then it’s decided…” “Yes, I think you’re right. Thanks, Plagg.” “No problem, kid.” In that moment, Adrien and the rest of the residents of the top level heard a loud thud and left their rooms to investigate. Their given free time had not yet passed and it didn’t seem that the noise had disturbed many others in the building.

“Hey, what do you think that noise was?” Alya questioned. “I don’t know... Hey, look! Nino is here too.” Said, Marinette. “Hey, girls. I’m guessing you two also heard that? I don’t know if that came from Adrien’s room or the other side…” Nino wondered aloud. “From A-Adrien??” Marinette sputtered. “Girl, that’s his room,” Alya informed, pointing to a door along the hall, choosing the precise moment Adrien opened it to investigate. “Hey, hi” Adrien greeted his friends as they walked up to his doorway. “Hey, dude.” Nino greeted back. “If that noise wasn’t from your room… then?” Adrien asked. “I don’t know… wait your rooms? Are you staying on other side?” said Nino. “Yup,” informed Alya, “Mari is in the other one on the end, I’m in the second one and this guy”, Alya points to Nino, “is in that one,” she explains, finally pointing to the one that is to the left of Adrien’s. “Yes, I remember, that's how it was agreed” Said Adrien. “I wonder who lives in the last ones,” said Marinette while looking to where the noise came from. “I think that the leader said something like his ex-students?” proposed Adrien, making a sound as though he didn’t know. Because, it was still a bit complicated to understand how could he had the luck of live right next to none other than Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha. “Mmmm… I can’t remember well, but I think Adrien is right.” Right as they were musing the residents of the last two rooms on their floor, Naruto’s door opens, and they were greeted with the scene of a pink haired girl checking the a blonde boy in his head, while a dark haired boy simply observed the situation without a comment or change in demeanor. “Well, without doubt, you don’t have anything, Naruto. Next time don’t be such a loud mouth.” Sakura fumed. “But, I don’t know what I did, Sakura-Chan… I only want to introduce myself.” “Dobe.” “Um…” Marinette shyly interrupted, causing the three ninjas to stop and look to the four teens in the entry. “Oh, look at what you’ve done, Naruto. We had agreed to not cause any trouble but you had to do go and make a huge noise!”

“But, Sakura-Chan…” Naruto tried to protest. “I’m sorry, this idiot slip and fell directly into the wall,” Sakura, explained. “Hey!! That’s not true -dattebayo!” “Datte… what??” asked Alya “Oh don’t pay him any attention… It’s just something that he says… Well, I suppose there is not another way…” Sakura mumbled, proceeding to point to her blond companion.“This idiot over here is Naruto Uzumaki,” Sakura spoke, then pointing to the black haired boy, “Sasuke-Kun and I’m Sakura Haruno.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Alya, observing closely all the actions of the ninjas. “Wait a moment…” she mutters, beginning to pull out her phone only to have her movements halted by Marinette. “I apologize. She is Alya, I’m Marinette,” she explains, moving to point to Nino, “Nino,” she offers, then turns, looking at Adrien, immediately blushing before shaking her head and turning back, finally pointing to him, “and he is Adrien.” “Nice to meet you,” said Sakura “Hey, what’s that? Ttebayo!!!!” said Naruto animatedly pointing to the mobile on Alya’s hand “Wow,” Alya marveled, taking a small step back. “How do you not know what this is?? It’s a mobile, duh.” “A what??” Naruto asked, confused. “A mobile, dobe.” “hey teme and what’s that?” “wait a second, you don’t know was a mobile phone” “wow dudes, that’s really weird” “really? Just that Nino??” “what?” “look” then she puts the video that record on the plane “hey, that’s us teme, look… but how could you do it? It’s like if you had done a report of what happen inside the pla… pla…” “plane?” offered Adrien “yes, that” “so let’s see if I understood… no planes and no mobiles, no video… no technology??” “that’s what it looks like Alya” “wow dudes, that’s sad… tell me at least music??” “music? What’s that?” asked Naruto “Nooooooooooo…” “Nino, no technology means no technology… tragic, I know… but hey my phone works at least” “yeah until it runs out of battery” “nooooh… charger dah” “yeaaaahh… but have you seen the powerpoints??” “yes, there are Japanese, as they advice us to be prepared with adapters” “Japanese?” -repeat it Nino “yap” said Alya “mmm… has sense, although this is Konoha, is based in Japanese things… I supposed” thought Adrien “hey guys I’m still not understanding much of what you are saying… especially those images of the teme and I…” “teme?” Asked Alya “forget it” said Sakura “those two always goes with the dobe and teme… but that’s something just between them, totally irrespective, isn’t it, Sasuke-Kun??” “hn” “ok?” said Marinette “hey right Alya, what was your point with that video?” “oh right, don’t you see it?? Those two were the ones who stopped the akuma” after hearing that the three ninjas stared at Alya making her to stop “Akuma, what’s that?” asked Sasuke seriously “ahh… that…” said surprised Alya “a victim” said Adrien “victim?” asked with the same seriously of before Sasuke “yes,” contribute Marinette “victim of Hawk Moth” “Hawk who?” asked Naruto serious “Hawk Moth, he is the real villain in this situation, where we live, he is in charge of torment the city creating akumas of victims that he possess” “And these victims that you are mentioned, victims of what?” asked Sasuke “Wow dude, how serious you are” “Nino, it’s serious what is happening, and you know it” Adrien answered him “I know, dude, but if we are going to explain what is going on… I don’t know, be at least a bit less serious…” he feels how is observed with extreme seriously and analysis by Sasuke and stop “Well,” said Marinette, noticing the tension that it was creating, “Where were we?” “We were saying what’s an akuma.” Said Sakura “Right” said Marinette “well as I was saying the akumas are victims who are… anyone, to be honest, but only when there is a huge emotion” “Negative, for what we know.” Supported Alya. “Yes, negative,” continuous Marinette ,“Then there is no knowledge of how nor when until it is too late, Hawk Moth simply takes advantage of them and transforms them into akumas -” “- that Ladybug and Chat Noir stop when they break the cursed object, freeing the victim and turning all back to normal.” Concludes Alya. “Mmm… then, in conclusion,” says Sakura ,“Where you live, there is a guy named Hawk Moth that controls akumas that curse the object and in that way, controls victims of with negative emotions and apparently those heroes, if you do consider that, can stop them?” “Mmmm… yes, that’s it.” Answered Marinette. “Yes, but Ladybug and Chat Noir are heroes, we don’t only consider it, they are, right Marinette??” “Yes, including Alya has a blog… that I doubt a lot that you know what’s that.” “Yeah, no idea.” Said Sakura. “Hey dudes, now that everything is clear… I’m still confused.” All turn to see Nino confused. “What was that noise a while ago, exactly?” “Oh, haha,” laughs nervously Sakura, “In reality that was my fault, the dumb of Naruto made me feel mad.” “Hey… but I’m fine I swear dattebayo” “Hn”was the only thing that Sasuke said “Then, he didn’t fail as you said before?”asked innocent Marinette “Nah, he can be dumb, but not that bad… I just exaggerate a bit.” Said Sakura, hitting him a bit in the back. “Don’t mentioned it, Sakura-Chan…” with that Naruto rubbed a bit his back. “Well dudes, now everything is clear… I think that I’ll return to my room…” and with that he turns to go. “Hey, Nino are you still installing yourself??” asked Alya “Yeah… I didn’t think that it would take me so long, less that I would get distracted by a noise of a hit…” “Let me help you” and with that starts walking with Nino to his home “Okay? I suppose I’ll get going too.” Said Marinette “Hey, wait!” Said Naruto, “ the teme, Sakura and I thought on going to Ichiraku to eat ramen.” “Wait a second, Naruto when did we agree? I don’t recall that.” said Sakura “Hn” Sasuke grumbled. “C’mon guys, like the old times! Pleaseeeee?” begged Naruto. “…” sighs Sakura “alright, but first let me go to my house” “Teme?” “…” Sasuke saw Naruto, “Hn… I’ll also go home for awhile, let me know dobe when you get out…” with that he went the next door Marinette observed the situation and noticed Sakura going down. “You don’t live here too?” “Ah? No, no… I’m with my parents…” and with that Sakura leaves. “Well you two are joining us, right??” asked Naruto that he still standing in the door of his home, that make look back to Marinette and Adrien also turns back “Ah? Us??” said Marinette “Well yes you and the other two… if you can… do you think that would be weird if I knock the door and invite them??” “No, I don’t think so,” said Adrien but he noticed that in that moment Marinette was looking down remembering that they only have half hour, “but…” “But?” “I don’t think we can, right, Marinette??” “Ah?? What,” Marinette noticed and assumed the question, “No, I don’t think so… the principal just gave us half hour and almost…” “Oh… but then let’s go now, well while more the better.” Said Naruto. “But Naruto, it’s Naruto right?” Naruto nods. “Didn’t you say to your friends that it was to spend a nice time, like old times?” “Yes, but still, it’s the best with more people. Let’s go! It would be cool and we’ll be back before you guys have to do whatever you have to do.” “I don’t know…” then Marinette saw her phone to see the time and noticed that it had been just 10 minutes. “Hey Marinette…” at this, Marinette looked up. “You know, I think that would be a good idea to explore a bit, don’t you think? I bet Alya and Nino are also thinking the same and though I know that maybe as class president, part of your duties is that the class doesn’t make any trouble, isn’t it? We three are part of the class and we won’t have troubles if you’re with us, right? Also, I can see that you as well have curiously to know more in respect and we know very well that in about…” Adrien looks at the time on his phone. “20 or so minutes, the principal will only give us a long and boring talk about all that we shouldn’t do…” “And that would include ‘don’t go walking around there without the teachers’, right?” said Marinette, surprised of how relaxed she was. “Exactly, let’s Alya and Nino know… or do you need something from your room??” he remembered that Plagg was hidden inside and needed to take him, just in case. “Uhh…” Marinette thinks for a moment until she remembers Tikki, “In reality, I think that I forgot my bag and some money… yes, I’ll be back.” “Oh right, I’ll knock Nino, explain them the situation, go for some money and we’ll meet here?” “Yes,” Marinette replied, a bit shy, “See you.” and with that, she returns to her room. “Perfect,” said Naruto, “just knock when you’re ready.” “Alright.” and with that, Adrien went inside to his room, got Plagg and went to Nino. “Hey, dude,” saluted Nino, “we were about to go looking for you two, Alya insist in exploring before they look after us.” Adrien smiled to that. “I was about to say that to you.” “Ohhh… then tell us, sunshine boy, how are we going to reveal?” “Haha, well not exactly… or yes, now that you mentioned it… but remember Naruto?” “The blonde one of your neighbour,” Alya saw how Nino looked at her with a pout, “the other neighbour.” That made Nino smile. “Yep, that one.” “Ok, what’s with him?” “In a way, he invited Marinette and me, but extended the invitation to you guys too, to Ichiraku ramen.” Adrien answered. “Ohhhh… then Marinette and you…” said Alya. “Well, yes. You two just left when it happened… also Naruto extended the invitation, saying that the more the better.” “Okay.” Said Alya. “You don’t need to go to your room or something before going?? Mari went for some money.” Adrien gazed in the direction of Marinette’s room. “Nope, I have everything here,” she points to her pockets, “I was about to look for Mari. When I heard the sound for that I simply closed well my door and started walking to here when Mari also got out, closed her door and I asked her if she knew what happened, when she said that no idea was when we saw Nino and then you…” “Ah, I see…” the Adrien noticed Marinette closed her door and started walking to them, “oh Mari are you ready?” “Ah? Um… yes” Marinette replied when she joined them. “Genial, let’s go. Nino? Alya?” “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” said Alya and with that, got out with Nino but joined Marinette to walk next to her while Nino was walking next to Adrien. “Hey dudes… do any of you know what’s ramen??” “Mmm… I’m not so sure, but isn’t it a Japanese soup or something like that??” “But I don’t understand… this is not Japan…” “Good observation, Nino.” Said Alya. “Maybe this place is based off Japan?” Offers Adrien the chewed truth, “sincerity, not even I know how to explain without admitting that we are in a manga.” thought Adrien. “Mmm… maybe.” Analysed Alya. “Well, Naruto said that we should knock when we were ready.” Said Adrien once they had arrived to the ninja door. “Well, what are we waiting for?” Alya animatedly said, “I bet that in the way we can even explore more before the principal even notices.” “But Alya… what if Miss Bustier notices it…” “You did see how annoyed Chloe was, right??” “Argh, don’t remind me.” “To when for real they put all together, it’s going to be more than a half hour, trust me that we had also thought about it, Nino and I while he finished accommodating himself” “Riiiiight.” Said Nino. In that moment, Sasuke appears opening the door as if that was his own house. “Hey, dobe, hurry up. I lost the ambus if you want to eat your stupid ramen in peace for once…” “I’m going, teme… and I told you to not call me dobe… also, how did you open the door?” “Hn… close it well next time.” “Oh? You are here. Hey, teme, why didn’t you tell me that they were here too” “Just hurry.” “Hey, Mari… don’t you think that they sound like they just got married.” Whispers Alya, hiding her mouth with her hand. “Ahh.” was the only reply of Marinette. “C’mon now.” Said Sakura, appearing from behind of the guys. “Sakura-Chan, you came.” “I said I would, wouldn’t I?” “Yes-ttebayo!” exclaimed Naruto. “Hey, why not you go first, so it would be easier for you, right?” “But…” said Marinette “It’s easy. Get out to the right, two blocks straight and then to the left one block.” “Ok…” said Marinette with some worry. “Hey, don’t worry, Mari.” said Adrien, noticing that she was getting nervous again and decide to calm her down, putting an arm on top of her shoulders, semi hugging her. “I told you before - while we are with you, there won’t be a problem. After all, you are the class president, right??” “Yap.” said Marinette while blushing. “Then it’s decided, let’s go.” And with that, Alya gave a small push to Adrien and Marinette, forcing them to walk in that way, even down the stairs. Behind them was Nino and Alya in a similar way. “Well,” said Sakura once the Parisians were out of sight, “Any of you noticed something weird on those four?” “Ah? No, nothing, Sakura-Chan… won’t we go to Ichiraku??” Sakura sighs. “Yes, let’s go.” and starts descending the stairs slow to give some distance to the new ones. “Dobe,” said Sasuke, “Don’t forget to close properly this time.” “Teme…” and with that, Naruto closed the door well. And like that, the three ninjas went to the restaurant, although in a different route. That meant that while the group of Parisians arrived from the left, the ninjas from the right. Adrien was still hugging Marinette who was still blushing, but it wasn’t so clear as the beginning; while Nino hugs Alya and she was getting close to give a small touch on the shoulder a Marinette from behind to animate her. While Naruto contagious by the enthusiasm of the group, he also hugs his friend in the same way, while Sakura simply was observing without surprising of how much had change Sasuke. “I see that you arrived without any trouble.” said Sakura, once the four were close by. “Yes.” replied Marinette shyly. Alya gave her another small touch in the back. “Cheer up girl, that you are with Adrien.” She whispers. “Alya…” Marinette whispered back. While Adrien was watching the dynamic of the girls, but without hearing them and saw how Nino had taken advantage of the situation to hug Alya closer. Adrien feels some of envy, but also happiness for his best friend. He knows how much he wants to be that close to Ladybug, but for the moment he was happy of being accompanied by his friend, Marinette. Although for him Marinette was also a as good friend, she wasn’t Ladybug, yet he didn’t want to get far from her, because there was something about her that made him feel fine. That and the fact he was with good friends, and apparently, he was making good friends with the cooler ninjas that he even saw, even though had been just in a manga. “I can’t believe that I will try the famous ramen that Naruto likes so much.” thought Adrien once everyone was accommodated in their respective places. “Mmm…” said Alya, analysing the local. “Is it just me or this place is new?” “Ohhh, right” said Naruto “the old man Teuchi had to rebuild it… well a lot had to when they free from the Infinite Taikijutsu.” “From the infinite what?” asked Alya. “Wow dudes, infinite what? How someone free from something infinite?” said Nino “well you see… Sasuke used Susanoo and…” “Naruto, I don’t think that these outsiders in first place know or want to know all the details from the Fourth Shinobi World War, and less know what’s a Susanoo…” “Hn” “Wow wow wow… war? Like fight? Between a lot of people with soldiers and all?” asked Alya. “And what do you mean with four… there had been only two world wars…” “Hey, Alya… shhhh… this is not our reality baby, it’s alright.” Comforts Nino. “Poor Alya, although this world may or not based in Japanese things here had been four big wars and though she is a good reporter and all… not even I can imagine what could feel that had been so much…” thought Adrien. “I’m fine, Nino. It’s just, I never thought that it could be a reality worst than our in history. How much do you think would pass until what I think is now peace, is broken again? In our reality, there had only been two world wars and that’s more than enough to keep the peace. Everyone does the impossible to nothing like that happen even Ladybug and Chat… they fight a big enemy that we are thankful that he is not causing international comfits or more… also is it possible that inclusive appears new heroes to stop him for once and for all…” And Alya noticed that her friends looking at her incredulously. “What? Don’t you think it would be genial? In that way I would have even more material for my blog…” “Alya…” said Marinette. “Forgive her, she is always gets animated when it talks about heroes…” while Adrien chuckles. “Dude” Nino chuckled as well. “Well, ramen to everyone old man-ttebayo.” “If that’s what everyone wants, here are seven plates of ramen and the first round is on the house, because I always feel happy to have new clients and more if they are friends of Naruto.” said Teuchi “WHAAAAAAT?!!!!” said the four teens at the same time. “Yes, kids, there is not a problem. But you have only to promise me that you will spread the word and tell to your friends and come back.” said Teuchi “If you insist…” Said Marinette, a bit shy. “Dude that’s for sure” Nino said enthusiastically. “Oh yes, that doesn’t sounds nothing bad, this place looks cool…” “Yes,” said Adrien, “typical of Teuchi, he had been always so nice to Naruto.” He thought. “Genial, old man.” Said Naruto. “Hn” “Thanks.” said Sakura. Time passed and Teuchi gave them their plates of ramen to each one. Sasuke, Naruto and Sakura were sitting at one side, followed by Adrien, Marinette, Alya and Nino, as how they have been walking. Marinette at the beginning was nervous of sitting next to Adrien, but after a while and see how everyone were eating happily she relaxed - being surrounded by her friends, including the new ones, was helping her a lot. On the other side, Adrien couldn’t believe the luck he was getting. He wasn’t just trapped, for the moment, as he remembers, but without any more preambles trapped in Konoha, he was living very close to the Team Seven that was always his favourite. All were enjoying the soup calmly, when Marinette remembers the small time left that they have. “Uhhh… guys.” Marinette said out of nowhere. “What happened, girl?” “I don’t want to be the party pooper, but…” “We are running out of time, right Marinette?” Finished Adrien, who remembered that he promised about not getting in trouble. “Oh right! Mari, you are right.” said Nino checking the time in his phone. “Mmm…” said Naruto while finishing another portion of ramen. “Oh, it’s true you only have short time. Too bad, we want to take you guys to explore Konoha, I bet that you are dying for it, right?” “Ohhhhhhhhhhh yes! That’s a yes. Though I can’t use the internet here, I know I can still record the adventures that we have here and who knows - maybe we’ll find the akuma and Ladybug and Chat will fight it!” “But that would be a next time Alya… if we can.” “It’s true Alya, Adrien is right. You know very well that Mr. Damocles and the other teachers won’t allow us to go out without supervision again…” Reasoned Marinette. “I agree with Mari. Also, I don’t think that would work again the excuse that she is the class president to save us again…” “Okay, okay… you’re all right, but if that akuma returns and I’m close to it don’t try to stop me.” “We know Alya. You’re the only one that goes running to danger.” said Marinette. “Even when I tell you as Ladybug…” thought Marinette. “Al, you know that you should be more careful, right?” “yeah, yeah, yeah. How many akumas has it been?” Sees that nobody answers her. “Okay, that’s no fair, not even I know. But how many times has something bad happened to me?” “Alya… just because Ladybug can cure everything and return all back to normal means that nothing happens to you, you are not invincible…” “Marinette is right, Alya. You should be more careful.” Commented Adrien. “Trust me, I know it for experience, though I do it to save my lady.” thought Adrien. “He agrees with me!” thought Marinette. “Well, well, as all of you agree,” Alya give Marinette a small nudge to her ribs to bring her back to reality, “I supposed that I would be more careful the next time.” She then smiles wide. Marinette sighs. “Thanks for the food, sir. You didn’t need to invite us all, but your ramen is really delicious…” “No problem kid. Just don’t forget to return soon.”

After saying that, the four return back from where they came, leaving Team Seven who are still eating their ramen. When they were about to arrive the building, Alya was the one who broke the silence that had formed while the four were walking separately together as a group.

“Hey, did any of you also noticed how the cartel apart of have the Japanese, has French just below, like if it was translating it by itself?” then everyone looked at Adrien. “What?” Adrien asked confused. “Dude, japanese?” “Hey, I have chinese lessons.” “Ohhhh right, sorry Adrien.” “it’s alright, but now that you have mentioned that Alya, well, yes. I noticed, but I didn’t think that it was weird or wasn’t it?” “Dude.” “Well, I mean, considering that we are in other reality… Nino.” “Oh yeah… haha.”

With that, they arrived just in time to the building. The principal was about to look for them, when he saw them join the rest of students that had descended, he didn’t give it too much importance and began to say the new rules that would be applied. Although in reality they were more than just repeating the agreement with the parents in the last reunion just before the travel, because Japan or not, they’re still in charge of the students and need to do all that is possible to make sure nothing happen to them.

To be continued... :D :D

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abubakerchikhaliaphotography · 8 years

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Artist Analysis Comparison: David Bailey & Annie Leibovitz

Attitude: a settled way of thinking or feeling about something.

David Bailey

David Bailey is a British fashion and portrait photographer born in Leytonstone and raised in East Ham in East London. When he was young, Bailey found interest in natural history leading to his love for photography. Bailey suffered from undiagnosed dyslexia thus causing him to have problems in his school life. He left school at the age of fifteen and reportedly attended only 33 lessons in one academic year.

In 1959, Bailey became a photographic assistant at the John French studio and in 1960 he became a fashion photographer for British Vogue. Soon enough, Bailey became insanely successful - getting attention from then American Vogue Editor, Grace Coddington. Coddington was also a model and praised Bailey for him and his work saying, “It was the Sixties, it was a raving time, and Bailey was unbelievably good-looking. He was everything that you wanted him to be – like the Beatles but accessible – and when he went on the market everyone went in. We were all killing ourselves to be his model, although he hooked up with Jean Shrimpton pretty quickly.”

Bailey once said, “It takes a lot of imagination to be a good photographer. You need less imagination to be a painter, because you can invent things. But in photography everything is so ordinary; it takes a lot of looking before you learn to see the ordinary.”

Since Bailey’s work was focused mainly on fashion photography, he has multiple images of famous models such as Kate Moss. In 2013 for Vogue Paris, Bailey was the photographer for her appearance in the magazine. In this picture, it is unclear whether or not Moss is wearing makeup thus leading the viewer to believe that she is naturally this beautiful. Most of Bailey’s work is in black and white which compels the photos to look smooth evening out Moss’ complexion. Moss has very prominent facial features such as her widely spaced eyes and prominent cheekbones. Moss looks directly down at the camera with a blank stare, almost as though she was looking over her shoulder and captured without her knowing. Furthermore, her hair which has been styled with tight curls makes her face look smaller but also exaggerates her strong features. Moss’ look on her face almost replicates the ‘Heroin Chic’ trend that grew in the 90’s with her angular facial structure and dark circles under her eyes. Bailey effortlessly captures Moss’ portrayal of attitude.

Who is the stylist? Geraldine Saglio is a French stylist based in Paris. After finishing her studies at Esmod Paris, Geraldine began her career as Emmanuel Alt‘s assistant for Vogue Paris. In 2009, she became Fashion Editor for the magazine. Since then, Geraldine has built a reputation to collaborate with numerous companies : Dior, Louis Vuitton, Hermès and Mango.

Which photographers has this stylist worked with before? Saglio has also worked with Mario Testino, Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott who have worked for Versace.

Who do you consider to be the most important person in the creation of this image – the stylist or the photographer? In my opinion, I feel as though both the photographer and the stylist play equal roles in producing the perfect image. In this case, the stylist did have an agenda to present Kate Moss as almost ‘royalty’ in the fashion industry. Bailey, as a photographer, has a job to capture the natural that Moss already

“Models are casted carefully and I gladly take in the crew’s opinions as well. For beauty especially, it is important to have the makeup artist be inspired by the model’s features as well.” – Jamie Nelson

Jamie Nelson is a contemporary fashion and beauty photographer who discovered her passion for photography at the age of seventeen. She moved to California to attend Brooks Institute of Photography where she graduated and moved to New York City to become a fashion and beauty photographer. Her work can be found in magazines such as Vogue, Vanity Fair, Allure, ELLE, Harper’s Bazaar and many more. Her commercial collaborations range from Maybelline to Sony - working with celebrities such as Solange Knowles and Gwen Stefani. In addition to this, she has directed videos for Vogue Portugal and Vogue Taiwan. Her global success has allowed her to be represented in places like New York City, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Germany and Dubai.

I personally agree with Nelson because when it comes to photoshoots, everyone has a role in order to allow the photographer to capture the perfect shot. For example, the hair/make-up artist has a responsibility to create the perfect look for the purpose of the shoot as well as the model. The stylist has the job to create a story/message in the look for instance establishing a purpose for the shoot. The photographer has a role of taking advantage of angles and manipulating lighting in order to encapsulate the message the behind the photo through the model.

In my opinion, if I was the photographer for a photoshoot, it would have to have intense preparation and planning. I would have to find the right hair/makeup artists, creative stylist and perfect location to shoot. I would find some inspiration on how makeup on a model should be done and always keep in mind the purpose of the shoot. The styling of the model would have to reflect the theme of the photoshoot. David Bailey is a visionary keen on the ideals of beauty and the concepts of it. His way of thinking is similar to that of Nelson’s in the way that they believe that a photo shoot is a collaborative effort between all the cast and crew.

I think that the image has been subtly edited, only enough to remove any imperfections such as wrinkles or spots. This wouldn’t have a large impact on the viewer of this image but it may set unrealistic body standards for the viewer of this image.

Personally, I like this photo because of how simple yet effective it is. The image is simply of Kate Moss looking into the camera with a blank face with her makeup looking very natural but her hair being an important factor of the image. It reminds me that as a photographer, it is sometimes better for the photo to not be so complicated but instead just capture a simple photo that is still effective. As humans, we tend to overthink things therefore it is better to just take a look at the more effective parts of simple things.

Annie Leibovitz

Annie Leibovitz is an American portrait photographer born on October 2nd 1949 in Connecticut in the U.S. She is the first woman to have held an exhibition in the National Portrait Gallery in London. She photographed John Lennon on the day that he was assassinated by Mark David Chapman in 1980. Her career began when she started working for Rolling Stone magazine as a staff photographer. In 1973, she was promoted to chief photographer of Rolling Stone, a job she would have for ten years. For the decade that she worked for the company, she started the company’s trend of taking intimate photos of celebrities for the covers. Furthermore, she became aware of more magazines that she could work for, even if it was just to build her portfolio. Leibovitz said that she takes interest in people who "open their hearts and souls and lives to you." Photographers such as Robert Frank and Henri Cartier-Bresson influenced her during her enrolment at the San Francisco Art Institute. Leibovitz said that “their style of personal reportage‍—‌taken in a graphic way‍—‌was what we were taught to emulate." Portraits by photographer Richard Avedon are described as a powerful and important example in her life.

The black and white picture of actress and activist Angelina Jolie is strong because of its simplicity yet effectivity. Angelina Jolie doesn’t have any noticeable flaws therefore it may be considered that she is naturally beautiful. The dominant colour is black which in my opinion symbolises mystery and also strength, power and provocation. The picture is smooth in the way that Leibovitz has opted to go for a monochrome look thus compelling colours to flow and blend. Jolie has striking features such as her high-arched eyebrows, big and wide-set eyes, prominent cheekbones and her large lips. The lighting in the picture contours her cheeks which makes her face look very structured. Jolie looks into the camera with her head resting on her hand which accentuates the strength of the photo along with the symmetry of her face. The image’s strength is almost intimidating because it is very rapturing. Furthermore, it makes Jolie look effortlessly regal even though it very simple.

I think this photo has been very slightly edited. I think the only aspects of this photo that have been edited are the monochromatic look and it may be airbrushed. I don’t think it would have a large impact on the viewer because Jolie is notorious for her natural beauty.

In my opinion, I think the style of photography combined with Leibovitz’s creative approach is very inspiring. She said in an interview “You to have trust in what you think. If you splinter yourself and try to please everyone, you can’t. It’s important to stay the course. I don’t think I would have lasted this long if I’d listened to anyone. You have to listen somewhat and then put that to the side and know that what you do matters.” This is very important to me and I think a lot of aspiring photographers should take on this advice. When starting out on photography, we often tend to think that a picture has to be perfect with complicated editing, expensive/high end cameras and an editorial set up. However, perfecting a photo shouldn’t be difficult, nor should it be overthought. A perfect photo is captured when the photographer’s vision is encapsulated and their passion overcomes them, thus leading to perfection. Sometimes, pictures can be ruined if the photographer overcomplicates the image and does not leave it alone.

Comparison

Describe the subject of both photographs.

In Bailey’s photo, it is a picture of Kate Moss in black and white with tight curls in her hair and a blank look on her face. For Leibovitz, it is a picture of Angelina Jolie staring into the camera with some curiosity expressed by the look on her face and how her head rests on her hand.

Describe the colours captured within both photographs.

Both pictures are monochrome however I feel as though the lack of colour allows the viewer of the image to focus mainly on the subject on the photo and does not create a bias.

Are the colours symbolic or anything or do you associate the colours with anything specific?

I feel as though the black background and black sweater that Jolie is wearing in Leibovitz’s photo evokes mystery but also strength, power and provocation. In Bailey’s photo, the black and white is less intense thus exposing more aspects of the photo to the viewer e.g. Moss’ dress, her hair etc.

How do you feel when you look at each photograph? What is your initial response/ feeling toward the 2 photographs? What do the photographs remind you of? Explain your answer in details

I feel as though both pictures were taken to capture the beauty and power of both women. For example, the camera is angled lower from Moss’ face in Bailey’s photo almost as though she is looking down on us - possibly to make the viewer feel intimidated. In Leibovitz’s photo, it is not done so much with angles, but instead the unbalance of colour. With the only visible part of the picture is Jolie’s face, it evokes a sense of significance and how she is important in the media. The longer you look at the photo, the more you are enraptured by her beauty and the eye contact that Jolie makes with the camera is enticing yet daunting as her face emerges from the dark background.

Describe which photograph you think is most effective and state why

For a fashion shoot, Bailey’s picture is a lot more effective in the way that he displays the stylist’s vision, the makeup artist’s look and the hair stylist’s idea. It is also a very simple yet hard-hitting photo of Moss as it does not have any complicated editing or styling.

Explain, in detail, how you plan to make links to the photographer’s work in your own work.

For my work, I would like to present my theme through simple ways: the diversity of adolescence. I want the photos to evoke a reaction from the viewer and almost have them question its purpose but also have them think about what the theme could be.

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17 Offbeat, Extreme, and Downright Unusual Ways Brands Have Promoted Their Products

If you’re a marketer of any kind, this phrase is probably lurking somewhere in the back of your mind when you start a new project: “How do we make this brand really stand out?”

The constant battle to differentiate a brand in a crowded playing field is challenging, and it’s pushing some marketers to the extreme. We’ve rounded up 17 creative campaigns and promotions that rely on unconventional mediums to spread brand messaging to consumers. Check them out below for some unique inspiration for your next big campaign.

Unusual Brand Promotions 1. Purple Instead of doing a normal ad for its mattress technology, Purple, a company that targets millennials and young adults, pulled in the comedic duo of Tim and Eric to host a bizarre and trippy web series called “Purple Boys.” In each episode of the Facebook-based series, Tim and Eric interview goofy fictional characters who are struggling to sleep. While each episode centers around entertainment, each character weaves Purple Mattress information into each scene. Each episode then culminates with someone getting a sound sleep on a Purple Mattress. Want to see it for yourself? Check out the second episode of Purple Boys which follows a character named Joe Dunder in his quest to get to sleep and fight off the “Sunday Scaries.”

2. Skittles Instead of putting millions of dollars into one short Super Bowl advertisement, Skittles made a full-fledged musical titled “Broadway the Rainbow” — which made fun of advertising. The Skittles musica was formatted as one large and obvious ad that told the story of how manipulative the marketing industry was. Throughout the musical, all of the characters regularly spoke and sang about how advertisements ruined their lives and how they were living in one giant Skittles commercial. Even though Skittles charged $200 for each ticket, the musical sold out and went viral within days of its premiere. When the show was announced, USA Today called it, “the most inventive end run in the history of ambush advertising” because it capitalized on Super Bowl ads by immersing paying viewers into an obvious Skittles ad. To make the show more exclusive for paying customers, Skittles never aired it on television or online. To give you a quick idea of what it was like, here’s a highlight video:

Yes, creating a musical to advertise your company might seem like an outlandish way to spend your advertising dollars. But at a higher level, this campaign does show how marketers can get creative with ambush marketing to cause a buzz that gains attention from a wide range of audiences. 3.. GoPuff GoPuff, a company that allows you to order convenience store items through its app, has a number of odd commercials and ads. But one of the weirdest ways it promotes products on its app is by calling out the weird shopping list of items that people order late at night on its Twitter.

To the lady who just ordered three packs of Benadryl at 10:30 in the morning: WE FEEL YOU GIRL #screwyoupollen pic.twitter.com/y8kPvpV7gU — goPuff (@gopuff) May 2, 2017

Yep. It’s unusual to call out your customers for their weirdness, but while some prospects will learn more about the products you offer, other current customers might order odd things just to get a shoutout. 4. Nivea Kids Sunscreen This marketing stunt from Nivea made for some interesting headlines when it debuted at Cannes in 2016: Seagull drone poops sunscreen…uh, thanks (CNET), Nivea’s Drone Bird Poops Sunscreen on Your Kids (Dronelife), How Bad Was This Nivea Bird Poop Sunscreen Project, Really? (AgencySpy). The list goes on. The folks at German agency Jung von Matt/Elbe designed this seagull drone to squirt Nivea Kids Sunscreen onto unsuspecting children on the beach. In the case study video below, they explain how the drone can be used to make sure all kids are protected from the sun, even when they refuse to apply sunscreen themselves. It may seem like a parody at first, but make no mistake: This drone is 100% real. Say what you will about the taste level of the pooping seagull concept — it definitely generated a lot of attention for Nivea and left an undeniably memorable impression. Cannes Lion jury president Sir John Hegarty told a group of journalists, “It’s the most stupid thing I think I’ve seen in my whole life. I actually thought the Monty Python team had gotten together and entered it into [Cannes], to see if we would vote for it.” Spoiler alert: They didn’t vote for it. Nivea’s well-intentioned pooping seagull flapped away from Cannes without any awards.

5. Milka Chocolate When Swiss chocolate company Milka launched in France, they turned to Paris-based agency Buzzman to devise a unique way to introduce their product to the French people. The chocolatiers ended up removing a small square from 13 million of their classic milk chocolate bars, and giving consumers a choice: Do you want the “last square” sent back to you, or do you want to send it to a loved one? Consumers who received a Milka bar with a missing square were given a code they could enter online, where they could either send a small piece of chocolate — along with a personalized message — to a friend or family member, or enter their own address to have the missing piece returned to them.

6. Cub Cadet PRO Z Riding Lawnmower Who says the physical press release is completely dead? To promote industrial brand Cub Cadet’s newest riding lawnmower, agency Colle+McVoy came up with a steel alternative to the classic 8.5-by-11 inch paper document. The press release — which weighed in at a hefty 14 pounds, 13 ounces — was made entirely of Cub Cadet’s signature Triple 7-gauge steel, the same material used in their rugged lawnmowers. Outfitted with bolts and shipped to media outlets in a custom crate, the press release also came with a free crowbar (because why not?).

Image Credit: Adweek 7. The Art Institute of Chicago and Airbnb Have you even dreamed of walking into one of your favorite paintings? How about staying the night? In this creative campaign to generate publicity for the Art Institute of Chicago’s Van Gogh exhibit in 2016, agency Leo Burnett partnered with Airbnb to create a unique, immersive experience for art lovers. The agency worked with designers and museum curators to meticulously transform a simple studio apartment in Chicago into one of the Dutch artist’s most recognizable paintings, Bedroom in Arles. As part of the campaign, posters advertising a room to rent and resembling vintage newspaper classified ads were plastered around Chicago, inviting passersby to text “Van Gogh” — aka, Leo Burnett’s clever social media team, who fielded all messages in character. A few lucky early respondents were able to rent the room via Airbnb for only $10 a night. The campaign was a massive success for the Art Institute, leading to the museum’s largest daily exhibition attendance in 15 years, and earning them national media attention.

Image Credit: AdAge 8. Tiger Beer’s Air-Ink Tiger Beer — an American-owned company that operates out of Singapore — wanted to find a way to turn air pollution into something useful and positive. Enter the talented team at Graviky Labs, who devised a scientific process to capture pollution and transform it into Air-Ink — a fluid black paint. The brand then worked with Australian agency Marcel Sydney to put the ink in the hands of influential street artists and film the results. It turns out just 40-50 minutes of diesel car pollution can produce a rich shade of black ink, and artists were more than willing to incorporate the paint into their work for the project.

9. Adobe Stock Apparel If you’re a marketer, you’ve experienced the pain of sorting through seemingly endless pages of bad stock photos in search of one that just isn’t too awful. To promote their new stock photo service Adobe Stock, Adobe partnered with Swedish agency Abby Priest to develop a tongue-in-cheek fashion line that features outdated, overused stock photos. “Some stock images have earned their place in the history books,” said Abby Priest’s Creative Director, Oskar Hellqvist, in a Q&A on Adobe’s blog. “Classic motifs that have been overused and established as hilarious clichés, known, loved and/or hated by all … Turning them into a limited edition clothing line is our way to salute them and an attempt to create something disruptive and unconventional in the genre.” You can see the full Adobe Stock Apparel lookbook here.

Image Credit: Adobe 10. UberPOOL As part of a major advertising push in Latin America, Uber’s in-house marketing team launched a guerrilla campaign in Mexico City, sending out a small army of drones equipped with cheeky signs promoting UberPOOL. Drivers were confronted with the small aircrafts and their mini-billboards while waiting in stagnant rush hour traffic. Although they don’t plan to replicate the stunt in other markets (since doing something similar in the U.S. or Europe would require some major bureaucratic hoop-jumping), the stunt gained significant earned media attention for the car service app.

Image Credit: MIT Technology Review 11. KMFA-FM Austin How do you get millennials interested in a classical radio station? This Twitter-powered metronome is a good start. Developed by agency Archer Malmo for Austin’s classical music station KMFA-FM, this metronome ticks at a tempo determined by the number of Tweets sent in the Texan city. “We want people to give KMFA a try — it’s not a stereotypical, stodgy classical music station,” Archer Malmo executive creative director Matt Rand told AdWeek. “That audience happens to be younger and use Twitter more, so basing our ‘heartbeat of the city’ off Twitter volume is a fitting way to connect with them.”

Image Credit: Adweek 12. Laphroaig Most ads run for 30 seconds. This spot from Laphroaig Whiskey clocks in at three and a half hours — and it was all filmed in a single take. U.K. agency Multiply was behind the video, which features comedian Andy Daly reading real reviews of Laphroaig in a filibuster-style speech. Ranging from glowing to downright disgusted, the strongly worded and ultimately mixed reviews are intended to highlight the polarizing nature of Laphroaig — you either love it, or you hate it. But the brand wants to hear about it.

13. Lipton Green Tea To encourage consumers to make healthier choices while shopping for groceries, Lipton Green Tea partnered with agency Wunderman MENA to create a shopping cart that tracks your steps, calories burned, and time spent moving at the grocery store. Aimed at people too busy for regular exercise, the cart is intended to show consumers how many calories they can burn just by walking around at the grocery store. The hope is that they’ll also think twice about what they put in their shopping cart if they can see the calories they’re burning in real time.

14. Burger King Burger King and McDonald’s have always had a rivalry, and on Halloween 2016, the home of the Whopper played a prank on the Golden Arches. A Burger King location in Queens, NY dressed up the entire restaurant as “The Ghost of McDonald’s”, sweeping a massive white ghost costume over the building and adding a saucy message to their sign: “”Booooooo! Just kidding, we still flame grill our burgers. Happy Halloween.” Although only one location participated in the spooky prank, Adweek revealed that it was a stunt pulled off by ad agency David Miami.

Image Credit: Burger King 15. Paqui To drum up some buzz for their gourmet tortilla chip brand, Paqui released a fiery chip spiced with Carolina Reaper peppers — the world’s hottest variety according to Guinness World Records. The Carolina Reaper Madness chips are so dangerously spicy, they’re packaged individually and sold for $4.99 each. So why would you ever want to eat this thing? It’s part of a challenge, naturally. Following in the footsteps of other viral internet food-based challenges — like the cinnamon challenge, which never, ever ended badly for anyone — Paqui’s marketing team launched the #OneChipChallenge. The premise is simple: eat the the Carolina Reaper Madness chip, post your reaction online. The brand offered prizes to select participants, including a year’s supply of their less-spicy chips.

Image Credit: Forbes 16. South Park Video Game Add this one to the list of things no one ever asked for, but somebody made anyway: A virtual reality mask that lets you smell farts. To promote the South Park video game, Ubisoft worked with agency Buzzman to concoct an odor that perfectly mimicked the smell of someone passing gas. It was actually a lot harder than you’d think. Buzzman consulted multiple chemists and perfumers to get the smell right, and worked with a team of software engineers and industrial designers to develop the VR nose mask. They named it — what else? — Nosulus Rift. The mask (thankfully) isn’t for sale, but Ubisoft uses it at promotional events to build hype for the South Park game, which features a particularly flatulent character.

Image Credit: Buzzman via AdAge 17. Virgin America Have you ever looked at your shoes and thought, “Man, I really wish they had a phone charger and WiFi capabilities?” Virgin America has heard your very first world cries, and developed these almost comically tricked-out shoes to promote their first class flying experience. California-based agency Eleven, Inc. designed these extravagant kicks over the course of eight months to mimic the look and feel of Virgin America’s first class cabins. The final product includes mood lighting, WiFi, a USB phone charger, and a small video screen — you know, in case you feel compelled to watch some Netflix on your shoes. The sneakers sold for $97,877.77 on eBay, and all proceeds were donated to Soles 4 Souls, a charity.

Image Credit: Adweek Create a Winning Weird Promotion Coming up with an ad that’s considered off-beat can be tricky. First, you’ll need to have a number of creative brainstorms. Then, you’ll need to make sure that your campaign is understandable and memorable to the audiences you show it to. For example, while millennials and people with a sense of humor might find the Purple series above to be hilarious, others might not understand why Purple is marketing themselves in this way. One way to determine if people will truly understand and engage with your bizarre campaign could be to present it for a focus group first. To learn more about this strategy, click here. Editor’s Note: This blog post was originally published in November 2016, but was updated for comprehensiveness in November 2019.

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