#and then he has the brilliant idea to just get with some italian lady and SHE'LL take him in HER coach

[happypedrohours]

Good morning, fellow Happy Pedro Hours partakers! We hope you had a great night and we're looking forward to the next one aka tonight, June 22nd!

The first pit stop after a night of fun with friends is definitely some hot drink to wake up and face the day, so we asked some of our writer friends what they think Pedro Boys would drink and they came up with some brilliant ideas that you will find under the cut.

Jack has neat black coffee because he doesn't see why you should add anything else. Except whiskey, of course.

Shane doesn't like coffee but he's been known to sneak a white mocha frappucino when nobody is watching.

Javi G, being very European, would do a cappucino in the morning but if he wakes up later in the day, he'd switch to an espresso with a bit of sugar in it.

Or Javi G would drink a cortado.

Pietro Alvarez will do a double espresso with almost an equal ratio of sugar.

Maxwell Lord skips the coffee because he's already way too wound up on a regular day, so maybe he'd go for a decaf or just some tea.

Marcus Moreno doesn't drink too much coffee in a day because it doesn't always agree with his stomach. He'll have a plain cup in the morning at time, but if he stops at a coffee house, he'll try a cappucino because Missy always raves about it.

Tim will drink black at the police station because the coffee isn't any good so leyt's not even consider that powdery creamer, but if he orders at a coffee shop, he'll sometimes go for some cream in it.

Joel Miller (pre-outbreak) drinks Folgers because it was on sale. He adds his cream and 2-4 spoons of sugar (depending of it he had to bail Tommy out of jail or back him up in a fight or threaten to fight a kid because they gave Sarah a weird look). Joel is that dad, we love him for it.

Joel Miller (post-oubreak) drinks any coffee he can find, even beans are welcome. He stays awake and doesn't have to deal with his nightmares.

Or Joel would drink weak American coffee in like a tub

Din might drink caf if Grogu has kept him up when he was trying to sleep while the ship was in hyperdrive, otherwise he sticks to water. Very practical.

Dave York is a man who "closes deals" so to speak. He has some fancy Italian blend that he tells his secretary to get him and he hides it from Carol and the kids because he wants to be the only one who has it. Also too expensive to share.

Or Dave York is a coffee snob, interested in different roasts and beans.

Ezra is happy to have anything that will keep him awake so he can keep an eye on his pod. Taste doesn't matter. If he's ever able to relax, he might like some caramel. It's not too fancy but not too basiceither.

Frankie drinks Lifer juice (black coffee). Dark roast, though, he needs to be wide awake. Benny was making taco jokes all night and he dozed on the couch and has a crick in his neck. We're taking volunteer applications to give him a massage.

Strong coffee for Frankie, I can actually see him going for like a triple or quadrupple espresso when given the chance.

Or Frankie takes his coffee just black and strong.

Oberyn would go for some tea or herbal infusion instead.

Dieter drinks any and every sweet thing you can put in six shots of expresso to keep him awake and with a grin for this next scene with the actor he left with one of his monogrammed butt plugs up their ass and did not call the next day.

Or Dieter drinks "extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have them."

Lucien has Cuban coffee with his cigarette in the morning and the afternoon.

Javier Pena drinks it black with a spoon of sugar or two because the Senora says he needs some sweet. He's a sucker for pleasing ladies, old and young.

Or Javi P obviously drinks Colombian coffee.

Thanks to @avastrasposts, @nerdieforpedro, @lady-bess, @for-a-longlongtime for their thoughts!

Do you have other coffee order headcanons for Pedro Boys? If so, we'd love to hear them! Drop us a comment to share them!

[princemick]

MICKLORE for dummies

here;s part 1 with his racing history

because over roc weekend people seemed to have gotten to know him a lot better so here's a bunch more of mick info that I deem as essential

so under the tab I will add a bunch of stuff that kinda break trough that introverted pr trained wall he has.

this will be broken into facts, quotes, moments and videos.

--enjoy--

Mickfacts:

he speaks, english, german, french and italian but beraly speaks italian and french because he doesnt feel comfortable enough with them

the f-2002 is his favorite of his dads cars

during a lot of 2022's off season he has been dirt racing in the states where he bascially races for as long as the car runs together with gina's bf (x) (x)

apperantly recognizes the italian anthem before the german

can't choose himself for a dream team so his dream team is michael and seb

couldnt choose between lewis and max in 2021 "because theyre both nice to me"

he used to play drums as a kid

his middle name is 'junior'

he is named after Mick Doohan (5x mtotogp champ) who used to live close to Michael who were really good friends and so him and Jack Doohan (f2 driver) have always been and are still close friends.

apperantly introduced himself to kevin when he got back to haas with 'suck my balls'

modified said off road buddy that he does mud racing with so it goes quicker then intended

he seems to have extra clothes with him at all times bc he borrowed an extra pair of pants and shirt to callum for their f2 podium celebration

his dad wanted him to study engineering (also interesting piece of related information: he said he would have become a biologist if not an f1 driver in this video)

he refers to his dog angie as his best friend

in F3 he won 5 races in a row. race 22 til 26 of the 2018 season.

he started doing champions for charity where he organizes a football match every year with a bunch of german sports players

mick denies it but this man has bleached his hair

Mickquotes:

"a bomb, a knife, a serial killer. I mean that comes all together so.."

"I mean if poeple ask me if I'm mick I usualy just say no. I learned that from my dad."

"can I eat this?" procedes to eat it

"you guys are gonna do pushuupss"

"can I go and pet it?? play fetch??"

"those cars are so shit"

"deutsche, german..WHA??"

"you sure??"

"my dad, my dad, my dad, my dad"

"I just wanna get to my dad"

"beep beep beep"

"I won f2 and f3 for a reason"

"you guys are fucking brilliant, FUCKING BRILLIANT! fucking hell- sorry for all the swearing guys"

"I have a problem with italian bread tbh"

"PTW man, PTW" (pwt means prove them wrong)

"so you have to be smooth, realise that its an old lady and treat it that way, take it easy and enjoy the ride"

"hmm, have you ever driven on the road blindfolded?"

"ah, I was fine" after crashing

"I'm glad it was you I was fighting against"

Mickvideos:

prema stranger things - where he bascially just shouts his ideas and is loudly jock and himbo coded

The 5 Second Challenge - him having to really quickly talk and think shows how he thinks really well aka himbo

The Taboo Challenge - where he has to explain something without using specific words

Seb And Mick Take On The Formula 1 Tower Challenge! - where Seb and Mick ask eachother questions as they play mega jenga

Mick and Dan at the 2021 russian gp presser - just wholesome

Mick and Sean cook pizza together - him being wholesome and happy and speaking italian

Prema Trivia Challenge - giving ultimate himbo rights

him hugging every haas mechanic after his last race w them

mick post Q2 in Canada

the groundhog video

Some minutes with Cyrus Watches: Mick Schumacher

The Texas Red Hot Sauce Challenge - shows his relationship with gary (his old race engineer) really well

Guess the Flavour: Japanese KitKat Taste Test - shows how weird mick is sometimes

Map The Track - himbo.

Mick celebrates with the team after first F1 points - hes so beloved

Gina and Crorinna's congrats after his first points

okay there's much much more, if you wanna get more into it I reccomend watching more of his prema and haas videos and just keep updated with him over his time at mercedes

dont be afraid to send me asks with questions or anyting!

and special thank you to 2/3 of the pillars of mickblr @acrosstobear and @schumaclerc for helping me out w some micklore and @stoffelvandoornegf for this post

[teecupangel]

Just a random idea that came from the AC Unity posts but what about Desmond as Marie Antoinette, France's most hated dauphin? Like Desmond in Cantarella, he is surrounded by Templars but this time it is in the middle of a court that seeks to remove him from the throne by any means, at any cost. And Desmond, as in Cantarella, can choose to run away from all this (toward Connor in the colonies) or play the game in which he is inside to avoid a massacre.

(Now, I don't remember much about AC Unity but I do know that Marie birth was in 1755 and came to court at eighteen, which would make her canonically four years older than Arno but only one year older than Connor, which is a long time, for whatever plan Desmond has after the shock of being born again.)

So the Templar and Assassin presence in Austria and the Holy Roman Empire are a bit vague, especially during Marie Antoinette's time growing up so we can play around with that aspect.

Although...

Desmond probably only heard of Marie Antoinette in passing. She mostly knows her as the ‘let them eat cake’ bitch and holy shit, there was no way she was going to be her, especially since she did watch Kirsten Dunst’s Marie Antoinette (he was bored, okay?) so yeah, definitely didn’t want to part of all of that.

Desmond tries to appear not that interesting, making people whisper that she’s lazy but brilliant as she knows Latin, Italian and French (thanks, Ezio).

Her beauty is also marred by the fact that she doesn’t like to wear those restrictive women's clothes. She’s fine wearing dresses, she’s not fine wearing stuff that impedes her movements.

This, unfortunately, meant that they’re forced to make clothes that would be beautiful but not restrictive just so Desmond would wear them to balls and important events that needed her presence.

She doesn’t even understand why they needed her to do any of these. She’s the youngest, shouldn’t she be more or less worthless in the eyes of the royal family?

What she doesn’t realize is that her beauty and brains made her interesting. And having the Bleeds of Haytham Kenway and Ezio Auditore meant she could be graceful if she wanted to, meaning that, if one was simply to turn a blind eye on her ‘laziness’ and her ‘strange musings’, she is certainly one of the most promising young noble ladies of her generation.

Because of this, she gets the attention of Louis XV who wants her to become the future wife of his grandson, Louis XVI.

History finally gets royally fucked up when the announcement of Desmond’s marriage to Louis XVI becomes public when she is just freaking 14.

So, out of desperation because there is no way in freaking hell she was going to marry some dude at 14...

Also… childbirth? Nopenopenopenope. She just got used to the whole monthly bleeding thing. The idea of giving birth frightens her more than burning from the inside again...

She runs away.

Now…

At this point, she didn’t have any allies nor any actual plan like Giovanni!Desmond did in Cantarella.

What she did have was the skills of three Master Assassins and one Grand Templar so Desmond ran away in the middle of the night, more reminiscent of his running away from the Farm to be completely honest.

She pretends to be a boy which wasn’t that hard at the moment because she was still growing and gets into a ship bound for the colonies where, she hopes, she’d be able to find Ratonhnhaké:ton.

… Not knowing the huge scandal she would be making by disappearing in the middle of the night.

And how this entire thing could spell a disaster in France and Austria’s future since her marriage had been one of the conditions for an alliance between the two.

Unorganized Ideas:

She pretends to be a dude but she’s really pretty. Becomes harder once her growth spurt truly starts

She meets up with Ratonhnhaké:ton in Davenport Homestead after Ratonhnhaké:ton’s whole ‘arrested because white people, man’ shit in Boston. They grow up to be more or less partners.

Achilles thinks she’s a runaway daughter of an Assassin (which is technically true) and a part of him wonders if she may not be related to John de la Tour (maybe even his granddaughter?) because she makes offhanded comments about France.

The missing Marie Antoinette becomes the French/British version of ‘Anatasia Romanov lives’ rumors. No one thinks it’s Desmond though.

Except for one person who had seen a portrait of the young Marie Antoinette once… Marquis de La Fayette.

Haytham believes Desmond is his son’s beau (and, later on, wife). He is not the first to believe that and Ratonhnhaké:ton and Desmond had stopped trying to correct people and just let them think whatever they want.

Desmond does milk it a bit, calling Ratonhnhaké:ton ‘my dearest’. Ratonhnhaké:ton simply goes along with it because Desmond had always been strange even by white men standards.

Ratonhnhaké:ton knew Desmond was a girl from the beginning, he just didn’t make a big deal about it. This made Desmond believe that Ratonhnhaké:ton never realized she was a girl until she started ‘filling out’.

[coquelicoq]

i complain a lot about how wordy dumas is but i must admit it was very funny when he took two pages to say that albert thought he was gonna get so many chicks during his tour of italy and it's been four months and he has gotten zero chicks.

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

NY TIMES: St. Vincent Is Trying to Understand People

As she releases her sixth album, “Daddy’s Home,” the musician expounds on the lengthy documentaries, Janet Jackson bust and Joni Mitchell album that feed her creativity.

By Olivia Horn

May 4, 2021, 10:00 a.m. ET

Despite the hardships of the past year, Annie Clark’s sixth studio album came together with remarkable ease. “Maybe I earned a fun one,” Clark, who records under the name St. Vincent, mused. “Usually there’s some kind of ‘Dark Night of the Soul’ moment. And there just wasn’t.”

Clark, 38, spent much of 2020 shuttling between her home in Los Angeles and her family’s in Texas. But the record (“Daddy’s Home,” due May 14) was born at Electric Lady Studios in Manhattan, where she and her repeat collaborator Jack Antonoff landed on 1970s New York as their lodestar. The resulting songs ease away from the angular art-pop of “Masseduction” from 2017, opting for gentler, slouchier rock. The relative softness corresponds to Clark’s effort to treat the troubled, complicated characters that populate her record with care. Among them are the broke and lovelorn protagonist of the lead single “Pay Your Way in Pain,” Nina Simone, Marilyn Monroe and her own father, whose release from prison in 2019 inspired the title track.

Clark confessed that she did not meet her quarantine goals of learning conversational Italian or writing a tour bus cookbook, but she did read some books about the gulag. Calling from her “utilitarian” Los Angeles studio, she detailed 10 of her favorite things to watch, read and hear — many of her picks reflecting a fascination with history and an eagerness to unpack social and aesthetic violence. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

1. William Scott Sculptures

I discovered William Scott’s work through David Byrne, at his place in New York. And when we were on tour with “Love This Giant,” we went to Creative Growth in Oakland [a nonprofit that supports artists with disabilities]. I had my eye on this bust of Janet Jackson. And then when I was back, I went and bought a bust of CeCe Winans. So I have these busts in my library.

A lot of the artists whose work I collect are people who are marginalized from society in one way or another. What I like about it is that the expression feels very pure. These are people who might not have all of the tools at their disposal or the education, or any of that, but they are compelled to make work. That kind of irrepressible urge in people — that I just find so inspiring and heartening and cool. And it’s completely divorced from any of the status of the quote, unquote, “art world.”

2. Adam Curtis’s Documentary Series “Century of the Self”

The way his work has been described is as emotional history or impressionistic history. The lines that he draws between events and trends are not exactly “A plus B equals C,” but the general thesis is like, “the collective consciousness is saying this.” As a writer, I’m always trying to understand systems and understand people.

3. Ric Burns’s “New York: A Documentary Film”

I used to live in a rent-controlled place in the East Village. But it was shady how I lived there, so I was never able to get utilities in my name. I lived there for 10 years and I didn’t have the internet, so I had DVDs. I used to go to Kim’s Video all the time and buy DVDs so when I would wake up hung over and be like, “Oh, just can’t quite make it out of bed today,” I would have something to put on. If I wanted to watch something it wasn’t like “Netflix and chill.” I associate that Ric Burns documentary with being either hung over or tired or both, and watching it in my bed.

4. Joni Mitchell’s “Hejira”

This is one of those Joni Mitchell records that I didn’t hear until I was in my early 20s. Everybody knows “Blue” and “Ladies of the Canyon,” but this is when I became a Joni Mitchell fan, with a capital F. This record’s just so deep. Her lyrics are … Cubist. I’m thinking of the one where she’s like, “In the mirrors of a modern bank/From the window of a hotel room.” And it’s all wiggles, you know? It’s like water, that record. And I don’t mean to make it about me, but I feel like I can understand some of the things that Joni talks about, like the refuge of the road, or watching the world from an airplane or being in a hotel room.

5. Maggie Nelson’s “The Art of Cruelty”

This is one of those books that I picked up six times and would get through a few pages and be like, “This is really brilliant,” but it felt impenetrable at first. Then I had this one weekend where the clouds parted, and I just could see it and plowed through it. It talks about the ethics of being an artist in a way that is so brilliant, and so not orthodox or finger wagging. I think it’s one of those books you can revisit at various points of your life.

6. Her Own STV Signature Series Guitar

Part of it was inspired by Klaus Nomi’s tuxedo. And I wanted it to hit my sternum in a particular way. I am cis female, so the way that it hits the sternum and then has a little bit of a cutaway, it makes room for my breast. But just one of them. There’s only room for one! I love it. It’s the only electric that I play, with very rare exception.

I saw people’s pictures of it from the Met [in the exhibition “Play It Loud: Instruments of Rock & Roll”], because I never got a chance to go and see it in real life. Most of the time, I just kind of like quietly put my head down and work — and then every once in a while, I look up and see something that I’ve made, and it’s mysterious that it’s in the world.

7. Wim Wenders’s “Pina”

I love Pina Bausch’s work. I was really inspired by “The Rite of Spring,” where the virgin dances herself to death. There’s this one particular movement that was like, drawing your hand above your head, and then when you pull it down, your elbow goes into your stomach — sort of like you’re open and then you’re impaling yourself. It just moved me to tears. So when I worked with my friend Annie-B Parson to choreograph the Digital Witness Tour, I was like, “Can we please incorporate this?” Another big thing: I was obsessed with falling. That was another big part of the Bausch work. How do you fall and make it look violent but not hurt yourself? I’d get a rehearsal room with Annie-B and just practice falling.

8. Vintage RCA 77-D Microphone

It’s an old ribbon mic, and it just sounds so good and warm. I know these are words that might not mean that much — when people describe sound as warm, it’s reductive. But it makes things sound and feel true. I don’t mean that it has perfect fidelity. What I mean is that when you sing into this microphone, what comes back at you feels honest. My friend Cian Riordan, who mixed “Daddy’s Home,” hipped me to this mic.

9. “Hidden Brain” Podcast

There was one recently about the idea of honor culture. You know, if someone is insulting someone’s masculinity and masculinity is tied up with honor, you have to avenge that insult. A lot of these “honor societies” end up with more violence because you have to save face and there’s less ways to assimilate conflict. The premise of so much of “Hidden Brain” is that we live by the stories we tell ourselves. And as a storyteller, that idea is very liberating to me, because if we live by the stories we tell ourselves, it means that when we get new information, we can assimilate that information and tell ourselves new stories.

10. Piazza della Signoria in Florence

The first time I was there was with my mom and sisters. I remember just walking through this piazza and having a wonderful time and wonderful conversation, and really being awe-struck by the architecture and the history, and just that life was beautiful. Another time, a number of years later, I was on tour with David Byrne and we had our last show in Florence, and I remember walking through with band members and then having the best dinner of my life after. It’s one of those places where, at very pivotal points of my life, I’ve been there and only beautiful things have happened to me.

[hotchgan]

Opposites Do Attract: Chapter 2

Summery: Derek tries to convince Aaron to shut down his flower shop but he refuses.

A/N: Part two of AU where Aaron owns a flower shop and Derek owns a tattoo parlor. Disclaimer: This is all made up so this is probably not realistic.

Taglist: @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom @doctorenby

Warnings: Mention of divorce and custody

Here is part one!

Aaron sits in his office at his flower shop. He was just told that either his shop or his boyfriend's shop has to shut down. And Aaron has to keep his shop because it's only a matter of time when his ex will fight for custody of his son. And he knows that Derek wouldn’t shut down his parlor after everything he worked for. How did they get into this mess?

Suddenly, Derek walks in Aaron's office. Aaron looks up at him confused. It's the middle of Derek's shift so why is he here?

"Ok so I know what to do", Derek says to Aaron. Aaron continues looking at him.

"But first .. You wear glasses? How come you never told me?" Derek asks Aaron as he points at the glasses on his face.

"Derek, just get to the point", Aaron replies, already, annoyed at the situation.

"Alright, you should shut down your shop", Derek says. Aaron looks at him like he's crazy.

"Excuse me? I have worked so hard on this shop and you just come here and tell me to shut it down", Aaron says as he stands up.

"I know but compared to my parlor, I make more profit", Derek replies. Aaron scoffs.

“So? It’s still my shop. I don’t care if it doesn’t are as much money as you”, Aaron says.

“We have no choice-“, Derek says before Aaron interrupts him.

"You know what, this isn't going to work", Aaron says. Derek looks at him confused.

"What do you mean?" Derek asks hoping he's not going got break up with him.

"I'm saying, we should break up", Aaron says.

"But- but I thought you like me", Derek replies.

"I do, a lot actually but this whole shutting down one of our stores thing. It's just not going to work", Aaron says. Derek looks at him sadly. Aaron looks at the table, avoiding his eyes. Derek scoffs before leaving the shop. It's for the best, Aaron thinks.

Derek leaves the store and goes into his tattoo parlor. He storms in and goes into his office. Emily watches him stomp into his office. She quickly finishes the tattoo she's working on and follows Derek. She knocks on the door and comes in.

“Hey, are you ok?” Emily asks Derek as she steps in his office. He shakes his head.

“No .. Aaron just broke up with me”, Derek replies.

“What? Why? You guys were so perfect for each other”, Emily asks.

“We were only together for less than one day. And he thinks that this isn’t going to work because of one of us has to shut down our store”, Derek replies to Emily.

“Then why can’t you just .. buy the land Aaron’s shop is on?” Emily asks. Derek looks up to her confused.

“What do you mean?” Derek asks. Emily then walks over and sits down in the chair in front of Derek.

“Well, the city wants to shut down one of the stores so they could do their project or whatever. Which isn’t fair since that man has had the store before World War One”, Emily explains.

“Ok first, he’s not that old” Derek replies. Emily raises her eyebrows.

“Ok fine maybe he doesn’t act like a sixty-year old in bed but you know what I mean”, Emily says causing Derek to become flustered.

“So you want us to buy the land so Aaron could still have his flower shop?” Derek asks. Emily nods.

“Yeah, I mean how hard can it be?”, Emily says.

“Oh but first, you need to tell Aaron”, Derek replies. Emily shakes her head.

“Nope, you’re coming with me too!” Emily says as she drags Derek into Aaron’s flower shop. They both walk in Aaron’s office. Aaron looks up at them confused.

“What are you guys doing here? I’m not going to close down my shop”, Aaron says to the both of them.

“I know but first of all, since when did you wear glasses?” Emily asks, pointing at Aaron’s face.

“A long time ago, now what do you want?” Aaron asks. Emily then starts explaining how old Aaron is and that he should be able to buy the land to keep his flower shop. Aaron listens to her, curiously, and also the seems convinced about her brilliant plan.

“So ... are you in?” Emily asks. Aaron looks at her and then at Derek. He then nods.

“Sure, but are you sure this is going to work? I mean, it has to be more complicated than that”, Aaron asks.

“It probably is so that’s why we are going to Shawn and ask him about it”, Derek replies. Aaron glances at him for a second.

“Ok then ... I guess I’m in”, Aaron says.

“So does that mean you two are back together?” Emily asks. Derek and Aaron both look at each other.

“Well ... we just broke up like ten minutes ago”, Derek says.

“Yeah but, maybe if this plan works then maybe we could get back together”, Aaron says quietly. Derek eyes light up and looks at him.

“Uh yeah, sure”, Derek says, smiling at Aaron. Aaron smiles at him back.

“Alright, this is cute and all but we have to go to the Shawn guy about my idea”, Emily says. Aaron blushes and Derek uses his hand to rub the back of his head. They both leave their shops after they tell someone else to look after their shops for a while. Derek then drives them to an office building and goes inside. Aaron asks for Shawn Jones and the lady behind the desk leads them up the elevator and to Shawn’s office. All three of them walk in the office. Shawn looks up to see the three people from this morning.

“Ah, Mr. Hotchner and Mr. Derek and ...”, Shawn says as he looks at Emily.

“Prentiss, Emily Prentiss”, Emily says the man behind the table. Shawn nods and gestures them to sit down.

“So have you decided which one of your stores is going to shut down?” Shawn asks.

“No, actually ... we decided that I should buy the land from the city so our shops don’t have to shut down”, Aaron says to Shawn.

“Well ... that’s- that’s not how this works really”, Shawn says giving them a fake smile.

“Then how does this work?” Emily asks, challenging him. Shawn looks at them, trying to find a good excuse.

“Well ... alright, if you want to buy the land then it’ll be one hundred grand”, Shawn says to the three of them.

“One hundred grand?” Derek asks. That’s more than all three of them have combined.

“Alright, deal”, Emily says as she stands up to shake Shawn’s hand. Shawn hesitates before shaking her hand. Aaron and Derek both look at Emily like she’s crazy. Aaron waits until they leave the building before saying anything.

“What the hell?!” Aaron asks Emily. She looks at him confused.

“What?” Emily asks, as if she hasn’t agreed to buy a piece of land for a hundred grand.

“We don’t have a hundred grand!” Aaron says, yelling at Emily.

“Calm down, old man. I’m going to borrow it from my ex-sugar daddy”, Emily replies.

“I’m sorry, ex-what? But aren’t you ..?” Derek asks Emily.

“A lesbian? Yeah, I am but at that time I was still questioning my sexuality and I thought I like guys. Turn out I am just attracted to money”, Emily explains to Derek.

“Ok so where is your ... ex-sugar daddy”, Aaron asks.

“I’m glad you ask. He own an Italian restaurant. I’ll tell you the way”, Emily says as they get into the car. Emily tells Derek the directions as he drives to an Italian restaurant. It was a five star restaurant and was the fanciest restaurant both Derek and Aaron had ever been too. They walk in and Emily whispers something in the man behind the front desk. He nods and leads them a room that looked like an office. Behind the chair is man with grey hair and a Gucci suit.

“Emily, long time no seen”, The man says to the brunette.

“Hey, Dave. Guys this is David Rossi, Dave meet Aaron and Derek”, Emily says introducing them.

“Nice to meet you. Are you hungry? Do you want some pasta?” Dave asks. Derek and Aaron both share their head.

“Your loss, so what bring you guys here?” Dave asks.

“Well we need one hundred grand”, Emily says, bluntly. Dave looks at her for a second before pulling out his check book. He scribbles something on it before giving the check to Emily. Aaron looks at him confused.

“That’s it? You’re not going to ask why we need that much money?” Aaron asks. Dave shakes his head.

“It’s best if I don’t know”, Dave says simply.

“Anyways, I have to go to the kitchen and fire someone. They thought they could get away for leaving the pasta in the water for an extra fifteen seconds”, Dave says as he stands up and goes into the kitchen.

“Ok so now let’s go cash this in and save your flower shop”, Emily says as she walks out of the office. Derek and Aaron follow her outside. Suddenly, Aaron’s phone dings. He tells Emily and Derek to go wait in the car. Emily goes into the car but Derek stays with him.

“What wrong?” Derek asks. Aaron reads the notification and looks up to Derek.

“I just got an email ... Blake wants full custody of Jack”, Aaron says to Derek. Aaron should’ve knew this was coming. But he didn’t think it would be this soon. Their plan of saving Aaron’s flower shop could still go wrong and it would lower the chances of Aaron getting any custody of Jack. Aaron and Derek both stare at each other.

“If you want to be with me then you have to be in all the way. Which means standing by me and helping me get custody of my son. So ... are you in?” Aaron asks Derek. Derek touches Aaron’s shoulder and nods.

“I’m in”, Derek says. Aaron sighs in relief and pulls Derek into a hug. Derek hugs him back. At least, they are in this together.

[llewey-watts]

Work in progress post:

Detective Watts Best Quotes

Concocting A Killer

Watts: “Ah, so you’re the one who botched it.” Murdoch: “Excuse me?”

Watts: “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

Brackenreid: “Listen, Detective Murdoch did nothing wrong. The Crown is just worried that Shanley may claim prejudice if the same detective reinvestigates the case.”

Watts: “Right, right, right. You’re just biased. The coroner’s the one who botched it. Coroners. Odd lot. Far from reliable to say the least. Not to mention the smell.”

Murdoch: “Our coroner has a flawless record. And she also happens to be my wife.”

Watts: “Good God, man. You’re married to the city coroner?”

Murdoch: “Yes.”

Watts: “Oof. Is she pretty? Ah, she’d have to be pretty. I don’t know how else you could tolerate being married to a colleague.”

“The streets of this fine city are my office.”

Crabtree: “Should I read these files?”

Watts: “Absolutely not. The less you know, the more pure you remain. From purity emerges truth. From truth emerges justice. Knowing nothing allows one to see everything.”

“Our mind is where we live our lives. The only home one needs is the human skull.”

Watts: “Oh, no. You interviewed a witness?”

Murdoch: “Oh, no. She called on me.”

Watts: “Your involvement was to cease entirely. Instead, it appears you are continuing to seek a conviction. And based on what? A visual test done 12 years ago by a neophyte coroner?”

Murdoch: “Dr. Ogden is my wife.”

Watts: “Which makes it all the more likely you’re blind to her mistakes. No, it appears this dinner was a poor idea. Good night Detective.”

Watts: “The detective was wrong.”

Ogden: “About what?”

Watts: “You’re not pretty.”

Ogden: “Excuse me?”

Watts: “Look at you. Classic, Romanesque bone structure, excellent physiognomic symmetry. You’re not pretty. You’re beautiful.”

Ogden: “Well, I suppose I’m flattered.”

Watts: “Why? It’s merely an objective assessment. But that necktie **shakes his head**.

“Honestly, Inspector, how does anyone work with this man? He is some kind of renegade to whom rules are a foreign concept.”

“Let’s suppose for a moment that Mr. Shanley is guilty of this current murder. Now, does that make him more or less likely to be guilty of the first? Are you the same man today you were yesterday? Your hair is not the same. You cut and discarded it. Same with your fingernails. Over time, our entire body falls away and is reconstituted. How, then, can you be the same? Oh, but our thinking changes with maturity, with experience. In truth, the continuity of personhood may be nothing more than a delusion. In fact, it makes me question our whole profession..."

“We need to get out of doors detective. The truth is in the air. We must **deep breath** breathe it in.”

“We both know you didn’t do it. — We have to blame someone. The function of the police is to attribute blame on behalf of the community, but the community doesn’t particularly care if we blame the right person. — Why not? Man has been using scapegoats since Leviticus. The sims were placed upon the goat, the goat was banished to the desert, but mo one cared that the goat was innocent.”

“The ignorami at Station One have done it again. I clearly told them to release the man who looks like Karl Marx. They’ve let out some fellow who’s as clean-shaven as bloody Kierkegaard.”

Hades Hath No Fury

“How could I have been so unaware? My sister was in distress, and I suspected nothing. Age is no excuse for inattention. -but, sir, you found her. Your sister’s alive.- Yes. So I’m at peace.”

“Yes. Well life is but a cruel sport for whatever maker you are forced to believe in. -Detective Watts I understand...- Would your sister forsake you for a house of women who have eschewed the world in which you live?-my sister was a nun.-“

“Truth is absolute, unyielding and eternal, Jackson. It is our one constant in a turbulent universe.”

“Your face is *pause* symmetrical, but that hat *shakes his head*”

Merlot Mysteries

Watts: “Wine is proof that God loves us and wants to see us happy.”

Murdoch: “I highly doubt that”

Watts: “Oh, you reject the words of Benjamin Franklin?”

Murdoch: “Even a clever man is capable of a bad idea. no. wine, like any alcohol, is a depressant. It hinders the mind.”

Watts: “Ah, but ‘in wine there is truth.’ -Pliny the Elder.”

Murdoch: “Writers and Philosophers are seldom the best of judges. Especially when it comes to alcohol.

Watts: “Well, no one less than Louis Pasteur called wine, ‘the most helpful and most hygienic of beverages.’ Is it that you don’t enjoy the taste?”

Murdoch: “Ah.”

“Oh. Wait right there. I’m going to show you how wrong you are.”

“‘Wine can of their wits the wise beguile, make the sage frolic, and a serious smile.’”

“In the words of Diogenes, ‘What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others.’”

Murdoch: “Spectroscopic analysis.”

Watts: “Ah, yes. Not reliable in my experience. How’s it meant to help us?”

Murdoch: “By comparing the wine in question to the light profile of other varying ages, we’ll be able to discern precisely how old it is.”

Ogden: “The older the wine, presumably, the light the color, thanks to the blanching effect of sunlight.”

Watts: “Mm, but it was kept in a cellar. Depending on conditions, two bottles of the same provenance could be wildly different. There’s absolutely to way to determine —“

Murdoch: “Thank you, Detective. Please.”

Watts: “All right.”

Ogden: “Ready?”

Murdoch: “Yes.”

Ogden: “It’s 4.3.”

**Watts waiting + messing around.**

Ogden: “It’s 5.2. 8.5.”

Watts: “Well?”

Murdoch: “[Sighs] They are all different.”

Watts: “Really?”

Murdoch: “Every grape, every year, every bottle.”

Watts: “Hm, you don’t say.”

Murdoch: “It compares to an 1880 Merlot...a 1902 Tempranillo...and...several others.”

Ogden: “Well, I suppose you told us so, Detective.”

Murdoch: “All right. Call in your expert.”

Watts: “Uh, not my expert. My sommelier.”

The Talking Dead

“No one intends to get murder **scratches his beard** and yet.”

Crabtree: “Sir, are you not concerned that you yourself are marked for death?”

Watts: “Oh, I don’y like it, but the truth is death could come to any one of us any day.”

Crabtree: “Still, no need to hurry it along.”

Watts: “Well, very little of life is under our control. Very little death as well.”

Crabtree: “Watts, have you ever been to Paris?”

Watts: “Ah yes, The City of Light.”

Crabtree: “I thought that was Buffalo?”

Watts: “No, I believe Paris came up with it first. Why do you ask?”

Crabtree: “Nina’s involved with a show that’s preforming there. She wants me to go.”

Watts: “Forever?”

Crabtree: “No, no, just a short while.”

Watts: “Well, the world is only an oyster if you choose to open it.”

Crabtree: “So go to Paris today, for tomorrow I might die?”

Watts: “Precisely.”

Crabtree: “What about you? What would you do with your last day?”

Watts: “Just this. Talk to a friend.”

Crabtree: “Who? Oh me?”

Watts: “And solve a crime.This is what were looking for.”

Crabtree: “Brilliant.”

Watts: “The City of Love with a beautiful woman. You’d be a fool to say no.”

Crabtree: “Thought you said it was the City of Light.”

Watts: “Light. Love. Are they not one and the same?”

Crabtree: “I prefer to love with the lights off, sir. I fear I’m bashful.”

Crabtree à la Carte

“A shame. It looks terrific. I think I’ll go out for lunch. Anyone care to join me? —- This disappoints me. But I soldier on.”

“I’ll work with her. People are not to be defined merely by their words, thoughts, and actions.”

“KRRRKRRRKRRRSHING SHING SHING SHING SHING! a moleta.”

“[speaking Italian] RESPONDA TO ME!”

That man’s look tho.

Watts: “It may once again be safe, but I’m not sure I’ll ever regard meat with the same enthusiasm again.”

Cherry: “Perhaps you should stick to freshly butchered cuts.”

Watts: “I thought the same. Then I read up on the abattoir conditions in the stockyards.”

Cherry: “The Shelleys subscribed to a Pythagorean diet. Da Vinci too.”

Watts: “Pythagorean? You mean vegetarian?”

Cherry: “I do. ‘My body,’ said da Vinci, ‘will not be a tomb to other creatures.’”

Watts: “Yes. Yes, it’s the only way to live, isn’t it? Join me, Miss Cherry. From this day forward, we shall follow the ranks of all moral men in our strict adherence to vegetarianism.”

Cherry: “Uh, I don’t think so. What, are we cows?”

Murdoch Schmurdoch

“Are you being facetious?”

“**To Constable John Brackenreid** Let me guess, you invited a lady to accompany you on an outing and she declined. — I would counsel you to persevere. Ask again. As Lord Nelson wrote, ‘the boldest measures are the safest,’ although I suppose a woman is quite unlike a Danish Fleet. — Yes. Tread softly, Young Brackenreid. Let her know that if her inclination changes, your offer still stands.”

Game of Kings

Ogden: “I see. Well, I don’t much fancy being stared at for the next five months.”

Murdoch: “Julia...”

Ogden: “Inspector, I couldn’t help but notice that you and all of the men were staring at the us both. Is there something you’d like to ask?”

Brackenreid: “Uh, no.”

Ogden: “Constable Crabtree?”

Crabtree: “What? [Chuckles]”

Ogden: “Higgins?”

Higgins: “No, ma’am.”

Ogden: “What about you, Detective Watts? You seem like a curious fellow.”

Watts: “Well, there is one thing.”

Murdoch: “What is that?”

Watts: “When’s the baby coming?”

Crabtree: “Oh!”

Brackenreid: “Bloody hell, Watts! They wanted to keep it a secret.”

Watts: “How could they do that when everyone clearly knows what’s going on here?”

Free Falling

Watts: “One hopes this won’t put too much of a strain on their relationship.”

Crabtree: “How so?”

Watts: “In the face of great loss, emotions can be misdirected. Feelings amplified. I knew a young couple who experienced a similar issue. They never recovered.”

Watts: “The secret to dealing with gruesome remains is to replace natural instinct with logic.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Okay. How?”

Watts: “Consider an ant. Imagine you trod upon one, crushing it, and leaving it’s body mangled beyond recognition. Now, does this disturb you?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Not really.”

Watts: “Exactly. So we simply apply the transitive law. If we are not disturbed by an ant, there is no reason to be disturbed by a beetle. If not by a beetle, then not by a caterpillar. Nor a butterfly, nor a sparrow, nor a fish, nor a rabbit, not a dog...nor a human. What we have here, then, is no more disturbing than the squashed remains of an ant.”

Hart: “What’s this?”

Watts: “A reminder of the inhumanity of man, Miss Hart.”

Hart: “How poetic.”

Watts: “Constable? It seems something’s troubling you.”

Crabtree: “How so?”

Watts: “There’s an expression on your face that suggests you have a thought in your head.”

Crabtree: “Do you remember I asked you about visiting Paris?”

Watts: “No.”

Crabtree: “And then I was away for some time?”

Watts: “No.”

Crabtree: “No. Well, in any case, I did. I went to Paris with Nina.”

Watts: “Mm.”

Crabtree: “And she wants to go again, but for good.”

Watts: “So you’re considering leaving us all behind?”

Crabtree: “I don’t want to. My whole life is here. But I could imagine a life there. I don’t know. If I...If I don’t go, I lose Nina. If I do, I lose everything else that’s dear to me.”

Watts: “One loss doesn’t outweigh the other?”

Crabtree: “The enormity of either seems too great to contemplate.”

Watts: “Oof. Well...I can’t give you any advice. But I can tell you what I know. I know that we spend our whole lives holding on to what we have. We fear loss as much as death itself. But without loss, there is no change. Without change, there is no? Life.”

Crabtree: “Detective. You realize there’s nothing written on the blackboard, right?”

Watts: “Uh, yes, but it provides a frame of reference.”

Crabtree: “Ah.”

Brothers Keepers

“Of course I’m not certain. Memories are fragmentary impressions at best. The mind moves like a flock of starlings. It’s hard to pin down a thought, let alone a memory.”

“Did I have reason? Nigel Baker tortured and killed a man I...A man who was in every way my brother. Someone who deserved my protection. I had ample reason to kill Nigel Baker. But as I have already made clear, I didn’t recognize him. So did I kill him with intention? No. Am I sorry he’s dead? No, I’m not. To be honest, even if given the chance to exact my revenge, I’m not sure I’m capable of it. Obviously, my philosophy rejects that very idea. No one asks to be the way they are, not even boys like Nigel Baker.”

In reference to justice being found:

Watts: “Where is that to be found? I’ve been asking myself that. To be honest, I’m unable to think of much else.

Murdoch: “You seek justice.”

Watts: “I crave it. If I could, I would demand it. I want the man who killed my brothers to feel their pain. To feel my grief at what he did to them. But he’s dead. At the hand of his father. Did he even know why? And now the father will likely hang. Is that justice?

Brackenreid: “Of a sort, I suppose.”

Watts: “Then why don’t I feel better?”

Annabella Cinderella

Constable Brackenreid: “Do you think I’ll get a chance to meet him?”

Crabtree: “Who? The lawyer? What do you want to meet him for?”

Constable Brackenreid: “I-I followed the trial. I felt sorry for her.”

Crabtree: “John, she killed her mother with an ax.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Harriet Rawlins wasn’t her mother. Annabella was a home child.”

Crabtree: “So that makes it alright?”

Constable Brackenreid: “She was beaten and tortured. Her home sister admitted as much.”

Crabtree: “The home sister that Annabella then tried to murder?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Rosemary Rawlins was abusive as well.”

Watts: “That’s what made it such a brilliant defense. The victim was painted as a villain, the villain painted as a victim. Annabella Cinderella.”

Crabtree: “So you’re a fan of the lawyer as well?”

Constable Brackenreid: “He took her case for free.”

Watts: “Oh, nobody’s motives are purely altruistic. It’s all in the service of his political aspirations. He running for mayor, don’t you know?”

Crabtree: “Thank you very much, Detective Watts, for everything. You as well, Mr. Daniels.”

Constable Brackenreid: “And I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

Watts: “Of course you’re sorry. It doesn’t change anything, so why waste energy in saying it?”

Constable Brackenreid: “Does Detective Murdoch know?”

Watts: “No, he doesn’t. And that’s not the question you should be asking right now.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Sorry, I...”

Watts: “Nope.”

Constable Brackenreid: “W-What is?”

Lawyer: “How do we find her?”

Watts: “Ah. On the train over, I went through the file from the Crown prosecutor. There’s one more person we should protect.”

Lawyer: “Who’s that?”

Watts: “The doctor who filed the death certificate and attended the case.”

Lawyer: “Dr. Beattie was never called to testify.”

Watts: “He provided evidence that helped convict her.”

Lawyer: “Good point. Let’s go.”

Watts: “No. You stay. **waves gun in the air** This is police business. All right.”

Constable Brackenreid: “I’m not saying she’s innocent. I just pointed out that there are other people who may have wanted to kill her mother.”

Watts: “Which, if they did, would ipso facto make her innocent.”

Crabtree: “Did she say she was innocent?”

Constable Brackenreid: “She did, yes.”

Watts: “‘Twas ever thus.”

Constable Brackenreid: **opens the door** “Oh, my God.”

Watts: “Still think she’s so innocent?”

Constable Brackenreid: “This is my fault.”

Crabtree: “It’s jot your fault, John.”

Watts: “Losing the prisoner was your fault. This is merely a consequence. One cannot be accountable for every consequence, because the consequences of every action are infinite.”

Constable Brackenreid: “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Watts: “Your feelings are irrelevant. It’s simply the truth of it.”

Crabtree: “It does confirm our fears. The girl’s out for bloody revenge.”

[obscuremarvelmuses]

At one of the boards I play Shaw at, I’m going to be running a “kidnapping the X-Men as experimental guinea pigs” plot with Shaw at the helm (based on THIS DROPPED PLOT POINT from canon) in October. I plan to use several canons as NPCs in the plot so that the X-Men have more than just Shaw and Emma (who is played by someone else) to face, and as October approaches, I’m writing a series of small fics for the board that introduces each NPC so they’re more than just names. This is the one I did for Monica Rappaccini and June Covington, the lead scientists in this RPG. No, they never worked for the Hellfire Club in canon, but given that June is an amoral monster whose genetic plug-in technology would work PERFECT for this, she was a shoe-in. But what about Monica? Her ideals are far from those of the Hellfire Club, and she doesn’t care about money. So, what’s she doing there? This fic explains that, sets up her dynamic with June, and lays the groundwork for how I plan to have her turn on the Hellfire Club and help the X-Men. Because that would make sense for her in this scenario and I think having an NPC on the inside is going to help the plot along. Again, this is not based on anything in canon, nor it is it canon to this blog, it’s for a plot at an RP board. But since it features two ladies from my multi, I thought it would be worth posting here. Warning for mentions of eugenics, ableism, etc. 

Dr. Theresa June Covington was the typical blonde blue-eyed beauty, with an unnatural “natural” perfection thanks to her own work on herself. Shaw often wondered if she’d done the same for Emma. Dr. Monica Rappaccini, on the other hand, was a more unusual but no less lovely blend of Italian and Southeast Asian heritage. But, contrary to popular belief, he hadn’t hired these ladies for their looks. No, far from it. Both were brilliant in exactly the way Shaw needed for this project. . .and both were disgraced, unable to find work from any reputable company or university lab. Monica was a radical, a proponent of various anti-establishment beliefs that had led her down the wrong side of the law. Shaw didn’t agree with her politics, but her work in the fields of chemistry and biology more than made up for it. And it seemed that, like everyone in Shaw’s opinion, she could sacrifice her principles for the proper funding. But as much as Monica was worth, far more essential was June. It was her work on “genetic plug-in technology” that was the entire backbone of this project. It was a remarkable development, allowing her to take genetic material and essentially implant it into others, where it would then activate and express itself as naturally as if the person have been born with this gene or genes. She had based her work on knockout mice, a genetically modified lab mouse in which researchers have inactivated, or "knocked out", an existing gene by replacing it or disrupting it with an artificial piece of DNA when the mouse is still a mere embryo. But Theresa had taken it far beyond that, to humans who were already adults. Including herself; that work she’d had done hadn’t been with a scalpel to her beautiful face, but plug-in technologies to edit out all her perceived little physical imperfections. And once she’d done that, she started designing a few internal changes.  had altered her bones so they soften to diffuse impacts, she could dislocate her joints with ease thanks to new glands that distributed relaxins, her saliva was antiseptic, and, just in case anyone was ever fool enough to cut her, her blood was seething with neurotoxins. She, of course, was immune to it---who’s the REAL Rappaccini here, Monica?-- but if someone else touched it, well. . .they might as well have downed a pint of hemlock. So why wasn’t she raking in the millions? Why weren’t people lining up for plug-ins for everything from blue eyes to building muscle rapidly to electric eel organs? Well, in order to get such a work accomplished, there’d had to be. . .sacrifices. Mostly homeless people, but when she’d sought out a healthier stock of guinea pig, she’d started taking out people that she just felt didn’t have a right to live. There were haves and have-nots, you see, and the latter, well, they just didn’t have the same entitlement to life as the former. Like, say, people who watched Jersey Shore; could that really be called a life? And therefore, was it really murder? While Monica shared her opinions about reality TV, the rest of June’s beliefs enraged her to her core. And June, in turn, didn’t think much of Monica and her silly ideas about. . . .what was it, starving children in Africa and Asia and shit? June thought about what Shaw did of that. But unlike Shaw, she wasn’t employing Monica, and Monica didn’t have to put up with hearing her repulsive eugenicist tripe all day! Which was exactly what she’d just told her. Screamed at her, really. “Eugenics? Really?” June replied, and she didn’t sound upset at all, “My work is based on encouraging diversity, Monica, not culling it. Taking all the best traits. . . and putting them in the best people.” “That’s exactly what I mean!” Monica jabbed a finger at June, though not quite in her face---she doubted that blonde viper was above biting it. “Your idea that there *is* a “best” people---and who those are!” “Don’t try to make me out as some racist, Monica,” June placed her eerily sharp-nailed hands on her model-slim hips, “Just because I may look like the poster child for the Aryan nation, doesn’t mean I subscribe to such silly skin-deep notions about what makes perfection. My definition of elite is intellectual. A matter of character, not color. Physical flaws, though? Those can be fixed. That’s the point. Or do YOU think that a mind as phenomenal as Stephen Hawking’s should have been confined in that poor twisted prison of a body?” “That’s MY point!” Monica bellowed back, “It shouldn’t MATTER whether he has a mind you deem “worthy” of a better body, he deserves a cure either way! Everyone ill does!” “Some people don’t have an illness, Monica,” June purred. They were on a first-name basis at this point, but it wasn’t out of friendliness, “Some people are an illness.” “You know,” Monica seethed, her voice at normal volume and yet now even more angry, a deep and brewing rage like a volcano prior to eruption, “I think you’re right.” *** Monica worked late that night, blowing off steam. While the work itself was distasteful, and done for people she found disgusting---the Hellfire Club and its “everything for profit” mindset was everything she DESPISED about Western society---she poured herself passionately into it, knowing that, when this was all over, she could use it for good. Not only would she be rolling in millions that she could use to fund further work, but the knowledge gained here. . . as vile June was, the genetic plug-in tech was a miracle. Monica’s mind had raced when she heard about it, imagining all the ways that mutant powers could HELP the world---not just humans, but nature too. But, June was right about one thing---it had to go to the right people. Not the wealthy who would use it as toys or weapons, the grotesque commercial and military uses that the Hellfire Club had in mind. She kept her dominant thoughts occupied with work. She didn’t dare think too much too often about this. Not within the walls of these labs, where the likes of, say, Emma Frost could walk in any moment. Hell, would Frost even need to be here to read her mind? She shuddered at the notion of someone remote-viewing her mental processes like lab microfilm from miles away. Still . . . Monica was starting to think some very dangerous things. Dangerous for her, that is. And for the Hellfire Club’s entire operation.

[cinema-tv-etc]

Why The Godfather Part III has been unfairly demonized

By Caryn James1st December 2020

he mafia trilogy ended with a closing chapter that has long been vilified. But as a new recut is released, 30 years on, Caryn James says it deserves to be re-evaluated. T

The final part of the Godfather trilogy is considered such an artistic disaster that you'd think Francis Ford Coppola had forgotten how to make a film in the 16 years that followed The Godfather Part II (1974). Part III's most famous dialogue – Al Pacino as the aging Mafia don Michael Corleone snarls, "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in" – has become an easy laugh line.

But 30 years after its release, it is time to rescue Godfather III from its terrible reputation. Pacino's eloquent, fiery, knowing central performance is supported by several bravura set pieces that are mini-masterpieces in themselves. With deliberate echoes of the earlier Godfather films, there is singing and dancing at a family party, a bold murder during the San Gennaro street festival, a tragedy on the steps of an opera house in Sicily.

In the film’s confusing main plot, Michael gets tangled up in dealing with the Vatican  

Hindsight alone would tell us how seriously the film has been undervalued, even without Coppola's newly restored, re-edited and renamed version. It now has the title Mario Puzo's The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone. Calling it a coda emphasises its connection to the earlier instalments, and even hints at its lesser stature. And the word 'death' signals its dark inevitability, although the meaning of that word is slipperier than it first appears.

Twelve minutes shorter, it rearranges some key episodes, eliminates a few minor scenes and trims a line here or there. But until its altered ending, it is fundamentally the same film, better in parts than as a whole. It is too flawed to come close to the accomplishments of The Godfather (1972) or its sequel, both among the most towering and influential films of the 20th Century. They have penetrated the culture, from their language ("I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse") to their quintessentially American story of immigration and upward mobility. But the new version clarifies Coppola's epic vision, revealing how much the Corleone story was always Michael's, a deeply moral saga of guilt and redemption. He just happened to be a mob boss.

For me the tragedy of The Godfather, which is the tragedy of America, is about Michael Corleone – Francis Ford Coppola

Coppola was always lucid about the trilogy's vision, even when others were confused. "For me the tragedy of The Godfather, which is the tragedy of America, is about Michael Corleone," he says in the extras on a DVD set of the three films released in 2001. He wanted The Death of Michael Corleone to be the title back in 1990, but Paramount, the studio releasing it, did not. The film's initial reception was measured disappointment, not dismissal or horror as we now assume. Roger Ebert actually loved it. Pauline Kael did not love or hate it, but offered the withering, condescending assessment. "I don't think it's going to be a public humiliation." Expectations were high because of the legacy of the earlier films, yet low because Part III came with a whiff of desperation and of selling out. Coppola had resisted making another Godfather for years, then wrote the screenplay (with Mario Puzo) and edited it in a rush to meet its Christmas Day release. It even got seven Oscar nominations, including best picture and director. It is an odd example of a movie whose reputation has declined over the decades.

Why the film is misunderstood

Then and now, the series has largely been misunderstood. Crime movies like Coppola's and Martin Scorsese's are so seductive that audiences have embraced them for apparently glamorising the love of raw power and the concept of honour among thieves. Beneath the Mafia-friendly surface, though, they are built on ethical themes their more hot-headed characters don't grasp. The Godfather Coda tells us that crime really doesn't pay when you're ready to search your soul. The young Michael struggles with the idea of killing and crime in the first Godfather. The consequences of his decision are central to Part III, which takes place in 1979, 20 years after the events of Godfather II. Michael, a billionaire living in New York, has made his businesses legitimate and is left to grapple with his guilt for so many crimes, especially ordering the murder of his  brother Fredo, who betrayed him.

The film still has problems that no amount of editing can change. In a needlessly confusing main plot, Michael tries to take over a European conglomerate called International Immobiliare. By buying the Vatican's shares, he'll be bailing out the corrupt Vatican bank. The family part of the story revolves around Michael's nephew, Vincent Mancini, the illegitimate son of his brother Sonny. Andy Garcia is as good a Vincent as you could hope for, handsome, swaggering, rough around the edges, dynamic on screen. But his character never makes much sense. Vincent has his father's explosive temper and appetite for violence, but somehow goes from a not-so-bright thug to a shrewd, controlled crime strategist in a matter of months. His change is far from the engrossing, methodical character trajectory that takes the young Michael from idealist to murderer in the first Godfather.

And the film's most severely criticised element is no better than anyone remembers. Winona Ryder, who had been set to play Michael's daughter, Mary, dropped out weeks before filming started and was replaced with unabashed nepotism by Coppola's teenaged daughter, Sofia. Today, we know Sofia Coppola as a brilliant director, but it's easy to see why her amateurish performance made her another target of Godfather III jokes, particularly for the unintentionally awkward and passionless romance between Mary and her cousin Vincent. Coppola actually snipped a couple of Sofia's lines in the new version.

He makes a major change at the start of the re-edited film, eliminating the lovely original beginning. It set an elegiac tone by showing images of the abandoned family house in Lake Tahoe from Part II, and includes a flashback to Fredo's death, while Nino Rota's familiar soundtrack music evokes the past. The new version begins with a duplicitous archbishop soliciting Michael's help for the Vatican, a scene originally placed later in the film. The change highlights the finance plot without making it any clearer.  

The exhilarating start

But the film soon picks up with its true, exhilarating beginning. Several generations of Corleones, along with friends and business associates, gather at a party celebrating Michael. His sister, Connie, sings an Italian song, while shady-looking visitors pay homage to Michael in his office. He now has bristly grey hair and a lined face, and controls his family and business with authoritarian power. The extravagant 30-minute sequence echoes Connie's wedding at the start of The Godfather, and the First Communion party in Lake Tahoe that began Godfather II. Michael's office even has the same light slanting through the blinds that we saw in his father's office in the first Godfather, when Marlon Brando as Vito Corleone received visitors. Throughout, these call backs to the previous films add resonance while trenchantly revealing how things have changed.  Michael is burdened by conscience in a way Vito never was. "I don't apologise," Vito tells Michael near the end of The Godfather, justifying his brutality because he was trying to save his family. Godfather III is all about Michael's need to atone.  

Al Pacino's performance may have become an object of derision, but he knows what he's doing.

The party scene flows easily as it brings every character up to date. Diane Keaton is as deft as ever as Michael's ex-wife Kay, who pleads with him to allow their son, Tony, to pursue a career as an opera singer. Kay can be chilling. "Tony knows that you killed Fredo," she warns Michael. Yet she has never got over him, as we see in a later scene when they have a tearful tête-à-tête in Sicily, a scene Pacino and Keaton make painfully real.

Connie, played with glorious sharpness and wit by Talia Shire, has morphed into Lady Macbeth. Mafia princesses can never run things, but they can pull the strings. It's Connie who ruthlessly tells Vincent, "You're the only one in this family with my father's strength. If anything happens to Michael I want you to strike back." She has asked the right person.

Vincent is central to many of the set pieces. During a meeting of Mafia heads in Atlantic City, when Michael announces he is out of the crime business, a helicopter approaches the window and shoots most of them dead. Vincent rushes Michael, the main target, to safety. The intrigue and rapid-fire violence in the perfectly orchestrated scene might obscure the real point: Michael can't escape his past. That attack causes his cry: "Just when I thought I was out..." Pacino's performance may have become an object of derision, but he knows what he's doing. He is raw and angrily over-the-top in some scenes, but modulates those outbursts with quieter moments. When a stress-induced diabetic attack sends him to the hospital, in his delusional state he calls out Fredo's name. Pacino shows us a conflicted Michael, weakened yet clinging to power.

The power of the re-edited finale

The tone becomes more ominous and the themes more spiritual when the entire family goes to Sicily for Tony's opera debut. (There are spoilers here, but the time limit on spoilers has expired after 30 years.) Michael grapples with the Sicilian Mafia, for reasons linked to the Immobiliare deal, but that is less important than his inner crisis. He makes a confession to a cardinal, breaking down in tears as he says, "I'm beyond redemption." When his protector, Don Tommasino, becomes another victim of Michael's power struggle, he sits by the coffin and says to God, "I swear on the lives of my children, give me a chance to redeem myself and I will sin no more." In this version, Coppola eliminates lines in which Michael asks why he is feared and not loved, removing that plea for the audience's sympathy. Michael gives Vincent control of the family, but does he really have a clear conscience when he knows too well the vengeance Vincent will plan?

The Trump era has been full of Godfather references; Trump himself regularly attacks CNN's Chris Cuomo by calling him Fredo.

That revenge plays out in the elaborate, gripping final sequence at the opera, a counterpart to one of the most famous episodes from The Godfather, when a baptism is intercut with a series of murders. That first sequence was about Michael's rise to power; now he suffers the consequences. While the family watches Tony on stage, Coppola weaves in scenes of Vincent's crew settling scores. One shoots an enemy who plummets off a beautiful spiral staircase. Another murders a rival by stabbing the man's own eyeglasses into his neck. At the opera, hitmen are after Michael, which leads to the shooting on the steps, and a bullet meant for him that kills Mary. For him there is no coming back from that, no possible way to forgive himself.  

As the film ends, Coppola makes a brilliant editing choice. The original ending flashed ahead years to the elderly Michael, sitting alone in a gravelly yard as the camera closes in on a face still full of desolation and sadness. He falls to the ground, obviously dead.  With a tiny cut, Coppola transforms the meaning of the scene. It now ends with the close-up of Michael's face, still alive. Living with his guilt is his true death, a death of the soul and of hope. Coppola adds text at the end, which says: “When the Sicilians wish you ‘Cent'anni’... it means ‘for long life’... and a Sicilian never forgets.” Michael is doomed to a long life of remembering.

Godfather, Coda restores Coppola's original darker vision, but one element creates a jolt even he couldn't have seen coming. The locations listed in the end credits include Trump Castle Casino Resort in Atlantic City, where the exterior of the helicopter attack was shot. The Trump era has been full of Godfather references. Some are from mainsteam media, including a 2018 Atlantic Magazine article with the headline Donald Trump Goes Full Fredo, comparing a Trump tweet saying that he is “like, really smart” to Fredo famously insisting in Godfather II, “I'm smart! Not like everybody says, like dumb, I'm smart!”  Similarly, Twitter trolls routinely mock the president's circle and his grown children as Fredos, portraying them as weak and bumbling like the character,  including pasting Donald Trump Jr’s head on a photo of Fredo's body.  Donald Trump himself regularly attacks CNN's Chris Cuomo by calling him Fredo. Godfather II even turned up in court documents charging Trump's advisor Roger Stone with obstructing justice, citing an email in which Stone asked someone to protect him the way Frankie Pentangeli covered up for the Corleones. Today the location credit lands like a coda to the end of the Trump presidency, and offers a reminder of how influential the Godfather films have been, even when they were embraced for all the wrong reasons.

Mario Puzo's The Godfather, Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone is available on BluRay and streaming from 8 December.

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https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20201201-why-the-godfather-part-iii-has-been-unfairly-demonised

https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20201201-david-fincher-hollywoods-most-disturbing-director

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Precious Friend

The beds were platforms attached to the walls that lifted up to an opening aptly called a coffin rack that served as under-bed storage. There were four beds in a room. Besides the coffin rack storage, there was one locker per occupant. That was all.

Aaron tried and failed to fit all his gear into a locker before giving it up and tossing it on top of his bed next to where his foot would be. “People live here for months? Jesus…” He muttered.

Brian held out his hands, “I have space in my locker, give it here.” 

“Careful, my guns are in there.” Despite his words, he tossed his bag to him and hopped up to pull himself onto the top bunk.

“I know. That’s why I don’t want it getting tossed about if we hit rough seas.” He tucked the bag into the locker and shut it securely.

“I hope none of you get seasick. Masato peered down from his top bunk where he was surfing on his phone.

Rodney meanwhile stood in the doorway looking in despair and wondering if he was even short enough to fit into the flimsy blankets. This was a common issue. At six feet and four inches, he was too tall for a lot of things. He caught Masato’s smirk and inwardly grumbled that, for once, someone who could fit into a locker like him had the upper hand.

Masato turned back to his phone. “I’ve been doing some research into what the Lieutenant told us. Norma doesn’t really contradict anything that she said. She’s just… less conclusive about the actual existence of the dragons they spoke of. The lack of written record is a problem, but the rainbow serpent’s connection to alchemy is pretty solid.” He turned his phone to them. “The appearance of a serpent looped in a circle is common in Egyptian depictions of an afterlife, but it doesn’t have much context. Still, European alchemists adapted this symbol into their own writing.”

“So it had to mean something…” Aaron whispered, opening his phone as well.

“I’m going to bed.” Brian ducked into the small gap between the top and bottom beds and disappeared.

Aaron let out an awed sigh. “Wow… their definition of Speech Spirits is Voodoo… I wonder… I wonder if we’ll get to see something like that. Sounds spooky.”

He dipped his head down to peer at Brian. “You’re sure you’re okay with your lady out by herself with a bunch of a voodoo?”

Brian gave him an annoyed glare. “By their definition aren’t we also practicing voodoo when we use our soul skills?”

“Oh that’s true.”

Brian rolled over to face the wall.

“But you didn’t deny she’s your lady.”

“Shut up.”

---------------

Mr. Baldwin didn’t go with the rest of the students to the residential deck. He instead followed Dofi, the youngest of the quadruplets towards the Officer’s area on the ship. Dofi kept up the act, nodding dutifully at the sailors who had no idea he was masquerading as his brother.

“How long are you going to keep up this act?” He mumbled quietly.

“As long as I can!” Dofi flashed his brilliant teeth and chuckled. “After all, it’s not often I get to be captain.”

Mr. Baldwin raised his eyebrows. “Really? Somehow I doubt that. Switching identities would be an easy way to keep sailors on their toes at all times. I envy your ability to be in multiple places at once… so to speak.”

They came to an elevator. Dofi, scanned his ID and it opened and they stepped inside. Mr. Baldwin stifled a yawn. “Will you be joining us for our discussion?”

“Nah…” Dofi waved his hand. “Foli wanted to speak with you privately. And I have an assignment that just came up. We can have fun later!” He gave him a hard slap on the shoulder that nearly took his breath away.

The doors opened and there was Foli, grinning, bearing the Cassell College world tree logo on his chest. The two men both embraced each other rocking back and forth. 

“It’s been too long. Too long, brother!” Foli growled happily. “Come in and sit down! We need to catch up!”

Foli ushered him into the room. It was centered by a large wood table and decorated with maps, globes, and had a view of the vast ocean. There was no wine or cigar, but a box of fine chocolate on the table.

Mr. Baldwin took a seat at the table and Foli joined him. “Wow, are these chocolates made by hand?”

“Of course, I’ve been saving them for this occasion.”

Together they reached in. The chocolate was velvet smooth, full of butter and had just the right bitterness, fruitiness and sweetness. Mr. Baldwin closed his eyes. “It’s just like what you brought with you to Cassell…”

“Yes…”

He looked at him. “How’s your father?”

Foli sighed. “Still unwell, we’re expecting his passing soon.”

Mr. Baldwin’s eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I’ve dragged you away.”

Foli patted his hand to reassure him. “Our ancestors are never truly gone. His mind is resting in his body, waiting to be set free from its confines. He would never forgive me for missing out on this opportunity. You met with him before… yes? I was always curious. How did that go?”

“He didn’t tell you? Basically, he just wanted to congratulate me and give me some encouragement. Losing Professor Schneider was very difficult. Not just his death but the pressure of the expectations.” Unable to resist, Mr. Baldwin accepted another chocolate from the box.

“In the end, his choice was the correct one.” Foli spoke reassuringly to him. “Not only your training and education, but the power of your Soul Skill is undeniable.”

Mr. Baldwin grimaced. “I can barely control it. I’m no Anjou.”

“Such humility… it’s born of wisdom. It will keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe?” Mr. Baldwin chuckled with surprise. “I don’t recall safety being mentioned in this job description. But you do have a point… Time Zero, when it comes to applications on the battlefield…” He ducked his head and huffed. “It’s a bit unfair!”

“Just a bit!” Foli leaned against the table with one arm. “You’re not tired?”

“I am. But I can’t sleep.” He turned his eyes to the window. “The moon’s too bright tonight. And it’s nice to come here and chat.”

“How like you.” Foli said, delighted. “Then you’re fine with chatting with me?”

Mr. Baldwin gave him a small smile. “It would be an honor to chat with such a precious friend as you. The only thing lacking is some champagne.”

“I hope you don’t mind some tea instead? There’s a kettle.” Foli stood up and moved to a cabinet. Mr. Baldwin watched as he poured the tea and brought it back over to the table.

“What are we drinking tonight?”

“Just regular black.”

Mr. Baldwin began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

He took a deep breath of the tea wafting into his nose and sat back in his chair. “When I visited the Italian branch to meet with Commissioner Gattuso they served me some tea called “Imperial Red” from China. It’s supposedly over a million dollars a pound.”

“Oh really?” Foli blew over his cup.

Mr. Baldwin gave him a fond smile. “I’ve gotta say. I like regular black better.”

Foli raised it in a small toast. “Only the best.”

They touched their cups together. Mr. Baldwin allowed himself to relax, letting the steam warm his face. “I don’t have many people in this business who understand me as much as you do. I miss the days in the dorm where we used to stay up and talk all night.”

“Yes… so do I. It’s been too long since we’ve had tea together.” Foli’s eyes fell to his cup. “But… you would do most of the talking!”

“I had a lot to say! Especially right before our graduation, remember? I had to go away to run the Executive Branch, and you were chosen by the elders to lead as well.”

“Is that the last time? I can’t quite remember.” Foli scratched his head.

“You wouldn’t. We drank a lot more than tea.” Mr. Baldwin lowered his voice. “You got piss drunk. No wonder you don’t remember.”

“Oh…” Foli looked bashful. “Well, you understand… alcohol has never passed my lips since.”

“It’s a cruel tradition. You can’t even spike a little brandy to help you relax without losing your job?”

“It’s just the way it is, my friend.”

Mr. Baldwin started to laugh again. “I was frantic trying to dry you out before you had to report to your family.”

Foli looked mournful. “You did?”

“Seems like you don’t remember that either.”

“Well your memory has always been better than mine!” Foli replied. “Always has been. After all, you didn’t even confuse me with my brother! To be frank… it was a relief that you still remember.”

Mr. Baldwin reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gold medallion. It was carved with a skull ringed by twining vines. “Which reminds me, I think this belongs to you.”

Foli gasped, inhaling the tea he had just sipped. He covered his mouth, choking. “Where did you get that?” He asked around the coughs.

“You don’t remember but you left it in my room all those years ago. I couldn’t give it back to you without revealing to your family that you got drunk. So I took the opportunity to return it today.”

Foli reverentially took the medallion, speechless. “These relics are priceless. I assumed it was stolen from me.” He muttered quietly. His heart slammed in his chest as he tilted the heavy metal in his hand, watching the light shimmer across it.

“No one’s seen it but you and I.” Mr. Baldwin watched his friend’s reaction feeling deeply satisfied. “I’m the head of the Executive Branch. You will soon be one of the spearheads of the West Africa Branch. With Anjou, the relationship was wary. I hope to change that. Starting tonight.”

Foli opened his mouth to speak, eyes still glued to the medallion. But no words came out. He finally looked up at him. “Were it just up to me, I would absolutely accept full cooperation with Cassell. But these heavy matters? They’re left up to the Elder Council. That said, I will strongly convey your trustworthiness.”

He placed the medallion in his pocket. “Grant. People said that you changed after you were appointed, but you’re still the same person.”

“I changed only on the outside. I had to. Or else the Executive Branch might have fractured.”

Foli nodded. “I remember when we first met. I was full of many different worries.  I was… not prepared to make friends, but to maintain our secrets to maintain our superiority over the European Hybrids. At least, what I perceived to be superiority.”

Grant poured himself another cup. “I remember too. You were determined to show us up. Not that I blame you. The rest of our classmates wanted to teach you rather than the other way around.”

“I was shocked when all you asked were questions.”

Grant sipped. “That you didn’t want to answer.’

“And I asked, ‘why do you want to know?’ What did you say to me back then?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To teach us?” Grant replied.

“Yes that’s it. Your memory never fails!” He laughed. “Both Cassell and the West Africans have viewed each other with suspicion. Even now… it’s a bad habit.” Foli drummed his fingers on the table.

“One can’t be too careful.” Grant shrugged. “Trust is earned gradually.”

His expression turned grim. “You’re too kind. I just hope that trust gets its chance to grow and is not choked out by stubbornness and pride.”

Grant glanced at him. “Is there something wrong?”

Foli smiled again. “Ah… I believe it’s late. The moon is making me sentimental! But a cloud just covered it and broke the spell. We should get our rest.”

Together, they stood up. “Thanks for chatting with me. I hope we get this opportunity again… sooner this time.”

Together they walked out of the main meeting room, when they walked, it was hand in hand, leaving the cups steaming on the table.

[seasonofthegeek]

If We Could

This drabble is dedicated to @chris-hattori and @buggycat17 to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope November has been treating you both super well so far. :D

___

“I wanna move because I’m starting to get sore in this position, but I also don’t wanna move because you’re actually pretty comfy, Chaton.” Ladybug rested her chin on Chat Noir’s chest and looked down at him. She was spread out along his side and nestled in close, one strong arm keeping her in place against him. 

“Well, we are laying on concrete, Bugaboo. Soreness will happen.” He reluctantly loosened his hold on her and grunted as he pushed himself up enough to rest his weigh on his elbows while she sat up. “That was nice though.”

She smiled back at him. “It really was. We should do it more often.”

“If you would dream like this more often, maybe we would,” he teased.  “Although maybe you could dream us onto a bed or a couch or a room made of pillows next time. We should have food too. Food is great.”

Ladybug frowned and looked around them, realizing the city she knew should be there was little more than a blurry haze. “I am dreaming, aren’t I? I thought this was real for a minute.”

He shrugged. “It could be. It feels real.”

“But it isn’t. Why does this keep happening?”

“A few minutes ago you were relaxed and happy and very warm against my side and it was nice. Why question it?” Chat Noir was smiling but the edges of his expression were brittle. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She knew that look on his face too well.

“Because I can’t keep letting myself fall into this!” Ladybug stood and paced in front of the picnic blanket. “It makes it hard to decipher dream from reality.”

“And you really think we couldn’t be like this in reality?”

She paused. “It wouldn’t be safe.”

“Why?”

“Because Hawk Moth would try to use us against each other.”

Chat Noir settled into a more comfortable position and tilted his head to the side to watch her. “He already does that. It’s no secret that we’ll protect each other.”

“But it would be different.”

“How so?”

She stomped her foot. “It just would be, Chat!”

He studied his claws. “I think you’re just scared.”

“I told you I’m afraid Hawk Moth would--”

“Not of that.” He waved his hand and then stood so he could close the distance between them. “You’re scared of letting me in and I wish I knew why.”

“It just wouldn’t work.”

“It already works.” He cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing carefully along the soft skin without letting the tip of his claw mark her. “We work. You know we do.”

Ladybug swallowed thickly and finally met his eyes. “But what happens if we stop working one day?”

His brow furrowed beneath his mask. “What do you mean?”

She shook her head, dislodging his hand and dropping her gaze once more. “I can’t lose you. What if we try being together like this and it doesn’t work for some reason? I don’t want to ever not be friends.”

“I’ve loved you since the first day I met you. That’s not going to change,” he replied simply. 

“It could.”

“It won’t.”

“We don’t know our real names. We don’t know anything outside the masks.”

“We could.”

She scowled. “You make it sound easy.”

“Because it is, my Lady. We love each other.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my dream and it’s what I want to hear.”

“If it’s something you want to hear, you sure are denying it.” Chat Noir gave her a sad smile.  “You’re waking up. I can always tell.”

“I don’t want to. Not yet.” She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her nose to the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply. He smelled like...

Nothing.

Marinette opened her eyes slowly, saw soft sunlight filtering in from the skylight over her bed, and she felt cold.

___

"I thought we deserved a break tonight, my Lady.” Chat Noir beamed at his partner and spread his arms wide to gesture to the pizza boxes set on top of a picnic blanket. “No patrol, no akumas, just us enjoying some rapidly cooling pizza together.”

Ladybug flashed back to the dream she had so often about her partner and eyed the blanket warily. It looked nothing like the one they used when she slept so she finally sat down with a reluctant sigh. “This might not be the best idea.”

“Oh, but it is.” Chat Noir opened one of the boxes and slid it closer to her.  “Garlic knots with extra marinara sauce because I know you like to dip a lot.”

That pulled a smile from her and she nodded. “I do.”

“And a half and half pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni for me and extra cheese and italian sausage for you.”

“You’ve just thought of everything.”

“Not everything,” he groaned. “I forgot drinks and napkins, but I can go grab them if you want to start. I didn’t want to go back and risk missing you.”

An idea struck her and she gave her partner the smile he deserved. She liked the way his eyes widened a little when she did. “I think I have some things that would help too. I can go grab them while you go get the other stuff and we’ll meet back here.”

“It’s a date, Bugaboo.” He winked in the charming way he had, already recovering from her sudden brilliant smile throwing him off.

She tapped his bell coyly. “Yes, it is, Kitty.” Before he could reply, Ladybug took off in the direction of her home without looking back.

She tried not to think too much as she landed on her balcony and slipped down into her room. She grabbed the large cat pillow off her bed and frowned, looking around her room. She left the pillow and went down to the trunk below to pull out a plush blanket. Neither item would be easy to carry but she thought she could manage. She had a massive tote bag from her last Ikea trip with Alya that should do the trick. She stuffed the pillow and blanket into the bag and took off back in the direction of Chat Noir and the picnic.

He hadn’t returned when she reached their spot and doubt crept into her mind. She thought about all the discussions she’d had with Dream Chat about why something couldn’t work between them. There were dangers and identity issues and...

“Those will go perfect with what I brought.”

Chat Noir’s voice shattered the wall she’d begun to build up between them again. He lifted a laptop bag. “Want to watch something while we eat?”

While Ladybug knew it was just dinner and a movie with her partner, her closest friend, she also knew it was taking a step towards something so much more. And despite all her hesitations and misgivings, she was ready to put one foot in front of the other.

“I’d love to.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

[maudanouk]

NEW FACE OF LANNY IN VIENNA

ACT I SCENE I

Italy, Rome, the Vatican reception hall. VOIELLO and SOFIA are waiting at the popes desk. The YOUNG POPE enters the stage with a plain plate in his hands.

„This is the sort of merchandise im prepared to authorise.“ He says.

„But it doesn’t have your image on it!“ Sofia answers.

„I do not have an image, my good lady, because I am no one. You understand? No one. Only Christ exists. Only Christ. And I am not worth forty-five, or even five euros. I am worth nothing.“

„I don’t understand, Holy Father.“

„Of Course you don’t, because, as you said earlier, you studied at Harvard. And Harvard is a place in decline where you were taught to lower yourselves. Where as here, in the Vatican, we try to elevate ourselves. Who exactly is in charge of curating the image of the pope?“

„The Secretary of State entrusted that delicate task to me, Holy Father, two years ago.“

„Very good. And now I’m going to tell you what you as curator of the image of the Holy Father, are gonna do. You are gonna fire the Vatican’s official photographer immediately. No photographs of the pope are to be issued. Just as there were none when I was a cardinal or a bishop. Do you know why? I never allowed my picture to be taken. And when someone managed to sneak a photograph of me I always bought them up before they could be published. Now that I think about it. I’ve been training my whole life to be an invisible pope.

And so, for my first adress, you will see to it that the lightning is so dim, no photographer, no TV cameraman, and not even the faithful will see anything of me but a dark shadow, my silhouette. They will not see me because I do not exist.“

„If I may, Holy Father, what you are proposing is nothing short of suicide, media suicide.“

„Media suicide, you say? Fine. Now try to keep up with me, if you can.“

„I’m right with you, Holy Father.“

„Good. OK, so, who is the most important author of the last twenty years? Careful now, not the best, virtuosity is for the arrogant, the most important, the author who has sparked so much morbid curiosity that he became the most important.“

„I wouldn’t know. I’d say… Philip Roth?“

„No. Salinger. The most important film director?“

„Spielberg.“

„No. Kubrick. Contemporary artist?“

„Jeff Koons. Or Marina Abramovic.“

„Banksy. Electronic music group?“

„I don’t know the first thing about electronic music.”

“You say Harvard is a good university! Anyway, Daft Punk!”

„The best Italian Vocalist?“ Voiello interrupts.

„Mina?“ I answer.

„Brava! Now do you know what it is what the invisible red thread is that connects them all, all these most important figures in their respective fields? None of them let themselves be seen. None of them let themselves be photographed.“ The pope answers.

„But you’re not an artist, Holy Father. You are a head of state.“

„Yes, of a city state so small that it doesn’t have an outlet to the sea. And in order to survive it’s leader has to make himself as unreachable as a rock star. The Vatican survives thanks to the hyperbole. So we, we shall generate hyperbole but this time in reverse.“

„I’m beginning to get your point, Holy father. Yes, not only am I beginning to get it. I’m beginning to like it, too.“

„Good. Very good.“ [1]

ACT I SCENE II

The Off. It’s dark. Only the NARRATORS voice can be heard.

The pope [...] was possessed by a veritable rage for acquiring and storing up knowledge.[2] Wanting to know is an offspring of the desire for power, the striving for expansion, existence, sexuality, pleasure, enjoyment of the self, and for anesthetizing the necessity of dying.[3] He is large minded, not through knowledge, but through the power of acquiring it; he is open minded, intelligent, ready for anything, and, as Montaigne says, capable of learning if not learned. [4]  As knowledge and will are attributed to God, so is power. Further, as the power of God is infinite, so is His knowledge.[5]  The young pope is searching for a way to acquire as much knowledge as possible. He thinks about buying Alphabet. In the end, more than in God it is necessary to believe in yourself, Lenny.

God does not shout.

God does not whisper.

God does not write.

God does not hear.

God does not chat.

God's infinite silence...[5]

What if god shouted, whispered, wrote, heard, chatted and broke his silence? What if god had Instagram.

ACT II SCENE I

Austria, Vienna, 3rd district at Parkgasse 18. The WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE enters the stage, surrounded by its garden and neighbourhood.

The house is thinking: How can I help Lanny to reach the eartheners? I need to understand them. But as I cannot move they have to come to me. I need to offer them something they desire so they can not resist. They are the bees and I’m the honey. 

I remember a story an old friend once told me: “There was once a young man who dreamed of reducing the world to pure logic. Because he was a very clever young man, he actually managed to do it. When he’d finished his work, he stood back and admired it. It was beautiful. a world purged of imperfection and indeterminacy, countless acres of gleaming ice stretch into the horizon. So the clever young man looked around the world he’d created and decided to explore it. He took one step forward and fell flat on his back. you see, he’d forgotten about friction. The ice was smooth and level and stainless. But you couldn’t walk there. So the clever young man sat down and wept bitter tears. But as he grew into a wise old man, he came to understand that roughness and ambiguity aren’t imperfections, they’re what make the world turn. He wanted to run and dance. And the words and things scattered upon the ground were all battered and tarnished and ambiguous. The wise old man saw that that was the way things were. But something in him was still homesick for the ice, where everything was radiant and absolute and relentless. Though he had come to like the idea of the rough ground, he couldn’t bring himself to live there. So now he was marooned between earth and ice, at home in neighter.” [6]

I am a contradiction. [7]

A nightclub and a spa,

sin and salvation,

extasy, excess, gambling and baptism,

doubt and hope,

mystery and logic,

ornamented and functional,

hell and heaven,

baroque and modern,

I am dionysos and apollon.

ACT II SCENE II

Austria, Vienna, 1st district. AVA sitting at a desk.

The phone rings. [8] She opens the message.. „My dearest friends there’s one spectacular party in the making! Join us tonight in the Wittgenstein House to another legendary night. Make sure to wear your most luxurious textiles and we take care of your deepest desires.“ 

ACT II SCENE III

Austria, Vienna, 3rd district at Parkgasse 18. It’s night but the garden is enlightened by the colourful lights emerging the windows. The WITTGENSTEIN HOUSE is emitting visual, audible and perceptible vibrations. The air smells of Un Jardin en Méditerranée. A car enters stage right. Inside are AVA, LUX, EMMA and NOVA.

We arrive at the Wittgenstein House. It’s one o’clock, time for some ecstasy. I divide the crystals into four parts and hand them to the others. I take the last one and we step out of our taxi. Instantly we are surrounded by an electric atmosphere. People get chauffeured around in Mercedes Benz with Cristal champagne.[9] On inspecting the entrance facade, you can discover a series of metaphors and symbolic signs.[10] The bass seems to shake the walls. Bright lights in countless colours emerge through the windows. Life is fantastic. It would be too strong to call this fantasy a portal to Hell, but it is surely no entrance to a Heavenly Jerusalem.

The party begins as people are moving in, gathering in the entrance hall and taking a stand up cocktail.[11] There is champagne, caviar and fireworks.[12] Ahead, some distance from the entrance, is a great mural of brilliant color.[13] Opulent Ornaments, heavy textiles, reflecting surfaces. The materials come from the everyday domestic sphere, much having to do with ornamenting the body: copper and brass wire, buttons, beads, baubles, hooks, eyes, straps, false fingernails, makeup, hair, ribbons, lace, thread, shells, feathers, and bones. The amulets are fetishes, beautiful ornamental objects, and they are connected to the fetishism of architectural representation.[14]

following... experience of other chambers: 

sauna is heat, sweat, cleansing, liberation, relief

spa is warm, soft, welcoming, salvation

etc.

[1] The Young Pope

[2] Hugo, Notre Dame de Paris

[3] Sloterdijk, Critique of Cynical Reason

[4] Rousseau, Collected Works of Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[5] Aquinas, Summa Theologica

[6] The Young Pope

[7] The Young Pope

[8] Cixous, Reveries of the Wild Woman

[9] Hovestadt Buehlmann, Quantum City

[10] Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[11] Schumacher, The Autopoiesis of Architecture Vol 2

[12] Carter, Anthony Blunt His Lives

[13] Ockmann, Architecture Culture 1943 1968

[14 ]Hays, Architecture Theory since 1968

[theviscountbridgerton]

Interview with Jonathan Bailey in Style Magazine (October 2020) where he talks a little bit about Bridgerton. The interview was conducted in English, transcribed into Italian, and then translated back into English by Google Translate so, you know, there are some things that get lost in translation. 

Love affairs, marriages of interest and intrigues. It is the portrayal of the new Netflix series Bridgerton, a bit of a Jane Austen romance, a bit of sexy in the wake of The Favourite, with the right dose of Downton Abbey-style family drama, but “so modern that it could almost be set in the present day” enthusiastically states Jonathan Bailey, at his great opportunity to really make it internationally, playing the fascinating bachelor Anthony Bridgerton, the quintessential English nobleman of the early nineteenth century, who at the age of 28 finds himself at the head of a clan of seven brothers and sisters. One who “has to play the part of a loving brother and son and instead loves women and forbidden pleasures” ...

The Regency period has been less represented than other moments in British history, but the film industry abounds with period dramas. Do they still make sense today? Our instincts are the same, in 2020 as in 1820, and to observe them in a restrictive and oppressive context such as 19th century England where the will of the individual was stifled, sexuality was suppressed and there was a strong division between the social classes, puts them even more in evidence. Each of us at some point in his life felt forced into a role due to the expectations of others, just like Bridgerton's characters.

Women more than men, but ... Only in appearance: of course all the decisions are up to men, and Anthony for example to decide who should marry Daphne, but they are also forced to repress their feelings, which makes them unable to live a happy life. Patriarchal society has wreaked havoc on both sexes.

Bridgerton also has the virtue of surrounding Queen Charlotte with a court that is not exclusively white: the terrifying Lady Danbury and played by Adjoa Andoh, Regé-Jean Page plays the role of Duke Simon Basset and Martins Imhangbe as his best friend. Is it worth abdicating historical accuracy to be politically correct? We decided to do the opposite of whitewashing that so many historical moments have suffered. Here the question is to be faithful to the events told in the books by Julia Quinn from which the series is based, not to be historically accurate, so we can also imagine that at the time of Queen Charlotte it could have been an inclusive court. custom and the freedom given to the actors to model the characters, to make them current.

The fourth season of The Crown will also arrive on Netflix in the coming months: have you wondered why the public is still so fascinated by the nobility? We all love what we cannot have, which is closed to us. Even without getting to the royal family. Think for example of the world of the Bennet sisters and Mr Darcy of Pride and Prejudice: they were far below the social hierarchy, yet they have been represented countless times in period films. Personally, what intrigues me most about the golden world of the aristocracy is not the parties and privileges, but what lies beneath the surface: I wonder what the human cost of that life is. Bridgerton's characters always pretend to be something other than who they are: the real drama and their distance from the truth in a society of appearance, and this is what intrigues us about them.

Is the society of appearance then different from ours? If at the time classism was based on the distance between people, with the aristocrats who did everything to limit what the people could know about them, today social media allow us to <approach> characters that otherwise we would only idealize and this does so that high society no longer exists.  We never knew so much about the royal family, but I don't think it's good.

Speaking of royalty, you started in the theater with the King John of the Royal Shakespeare Company: is the stage still your first love? A love that has only grown since I first saw a musical Oliver! as a child. I love the experience of being in the theater, first of all as a spectator, it's magic. But as an actor I have to admit that it's much more tiring than cinema.

And instead to dub the protagonists of the video games from Anthem and Final Fantasy XIV, how did he end up? That was one of the funniest things I could do. They have a really huge fanbase and I consider them an incredible art form as well as a thriving industry. He played them a lot when I was a kid and I rediscovered them during the lockdown.

What role do you dream of playing? I think it's better for me not to know, I prefer to be stimulated by reading a script. The important thing is to work with people who have a very defined idea of ​​your character: it makes him stronger, you can already imagine him on the page even before taking on his shoes. But I can say that I'd like to play someone who looks a lot like me, who tells my reality, I'd like to find out how I would feel. It sounds like a paradox, but I think Hamlet could never play Hamlet.

And could Hamlet ever be a woman? Thanks to the role of Jamie in Company, who was originally an Amy, you won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical. Amy was transformed into a man, yes, but homosexual, and it is no coincidence: I believe that women and gays, even if in different ways and at different levels, are both oppressed minorities. In Company the goal was to make the reflection on marriage more modern by putting a man in crisis, because, given that gay marriages are now legal in many countries of the world, it almost seems that one has to marry by force. In general, however, I don't think we should cut the female parts on men, both because they are related to purely female experiences, but above all because of complex male roles I would say that there are already enough. Women are finally being given roles with an emotional complexity never seen before: it is interesting to see them act as protagonists in a society that has long been dominated by men, sometimes very weak, others brilliant.

Who is Jonathan Bailey when he's not on set? A boy who loves being in nature. I just finished a week of cycling in the English countryside where I covered about 700km. I think if I wasn't an actor I would retire Cornish hut.

I had read in an old interview with him that as a boy he dreamed of becoming a pilot. I think I was trying to reassure my parents that I would settle down and find a stable job (laughs). But in reality maybe I could have become a teacher, not because I necessarily think I have who knows what to pass on, but I believe in young people, it will be that I recently spent some time with my six year old niece. Instead it is not that I really had the opportunity to choose, fate did it for me.

Does it owe more to fate or to his willpower? I don't come from a family of actors or artists, when at the age of seven I was offered the part of Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol which was to be performed at the Barbican in London I simply jumped at an opportunity. Many kids who love theater go to drama school, but having grown up in a small town in Oxfordshire, I wouldn't have had much choice but to join the basketball team. So I will always be grateful for that chance, but it has never been an easy path. I believe in hard work, which always rewards.

[for-fucks-sake-h]

Smooth Operator: Part One

Word Count: 7.2k // Rated: M, mature // Story Page 

*Y/N’s texts are in italics. Harry’s texts are in bold.* 

The oc version of this story can be found on Wattpad. 

***  

She’s exhausted. Exhausted isn’t even the word anymore.  What would be the word for being so overworked, lonely, and horny all at the same time? Excruciating? Sure, that works.  

Her job was grueling but she loved it. She worked hard for it. After years of schooling and months applying to positions she dreamed of, she was offered the opportunity of a lifetime as a lead forensic anthropologist. All of the blood, sweat, and tears to get her masters so she would be able to work in the field of her dreams paid off.  She packed her entire life up in a week’s time and moved across the world to make a home for herself in London.    

It’s been eight months and while she has had the time of her life working at a job she put her entire soul into, she can’t help but admit that it’s lonely sometimes. It’s long days of meticulous work that makes her so happy but also completely drains her by the end of it. So, that doesn’t leave her with much energy for a social life. And if she’s being honest with herself, being outgoing doesn’t come naturally for her.  She’s adjusting, slower than she would like, but she’s proud of the progress she’s made so far and the life she’s built.

She left a lot of things back home; her family, her friends, a man that she thought she loved but was not as torn up about the departure as she thought he would be. She said goodbye to the only life she knew for the last 26 years to start a completely fresh chapter.  A chapter she hoped would be filled with warm memories, success, and happiness.    

She’s grateful for the job she gets to do. Beyond happy that she gets to do something she loves and live a comfortable life in one of the best cities in the world.  She has met some amazing people in the time she’s been here. She’s gotten to work with some of the top anthropologists in the world, has seen the most amazing research, and has gotten to be involved in the biggest case study her company has done thus far.  And she’s been lucky enough to make some friends that she easily considers family now.  

El and Bec, short for Elizabeth and Rebecca, have become the closest friends she’s ever had.  For not knowing each other that long in the grand scheme of things, they have woven each other into each of their lives as if they were always meant to be there. They work together often on specific cases and to be able to work with people who are brilliant at what they do and also just brilliant people is rare and beautiful.   

It was only about a month after she moved there that she would be spending her first Christmas alone. She definitely wasn’t established enough to be able to afford the time off or the travel expenses to go home for the holiday so she resided herself to the idea of a Skype call with her family on Christmas Day and Christmas movies on her couch in her pajamas. However, El and Bec had different plans and invited her to spend the holiday with them.

Bec comes from a big Italian family who graciously makes the trip to her every year and spends nearly a month with her from mid December until after the New Year.  El and Bec have spent the last three Christmas’ together, with El having lived in London since she was little but without much close family nearby anymore, they started the tradition together.

When she mentioned her plans of Chinese food and pj's for Christmas, El and Bec shared a look before El sweetly asked - no, begged - her to join them instead.  She tried to decline at first but they weren’t hearing it.  So she kissed her dog on the head as he snoozed on the couch and trekked herself to the train to arrive at Bec’s flat with a bottle of wine in tow.  

With two quiet knocks to the door she was immediately bombarded with the smell of what she could only imagine was homemade sauce and the sound of laughter when an older man, who she would come to know as Bec’s dad, opened the door for her.  He welcomed her with a kiss to each cheek and ushered her into the flat, offering to take her coat and wine from her.  And as she nervously made her way further into the space she was greeted with a multitude of warm, brown eyes - all matching Bec’s.    

“Don’t just stand there bella, get in here! We’re playing Rummy!” A boisterous voice came from the corner of the kitchen.  A woman, dressed to the nines with beautiful chocolate brown hair and big, dark eyes smiled at her and waved her over.  She should have known it was Bec’s mom. They have the same inviting smile and nurturing persona.  

And so she did. She played Rummy and laughed with everyone and even cracked a joke about a hula hoop that wasn’t really funny, but her delivery got everyone into a fit of giggles. She ate Eggplant Parmesan with them, passing full dishes around of all the other food so everyone could get a little bit of everything. She talked about her move and her family over coffee with Bec, her mom, and El as the rest of the family watched Elf in the living room.  Later in the evening, when it was starting to get late and things were dying down, she was sat next to Bec’s dad while she played silent night on a keyboard that was situated against the far wall of the flat.

They bonded more that night than friends bond over the course of months. Instantly clicking as if they had known each other for years. And now here they are.  

“Rocco, get down! God!” Y/N exaggerated as she pulled the dogs paws from Bec’s shoulders as he tried to sneak one more lick to her face.  

“He’s fine babe!” Bec chuckles as she kneels down to hug the big dog.  

“This is every time, just let her make out with him for a minute and he’ll be fine,” El chimes in as she tries to step over Bec and Rocco’s display of love currently taking place on the floor.  

“I know, I don’t know why I bother,” Y/N says as she takes the bags from El’s arms and pointedly looks at Bec still on the floor with Rocco still licking her face. 

“Not my fault your dog loves me more than you,” Bec mumbles followed by a squeak when the dog wet willies her. “You know what Rocco, you always have to take it too far, don’t you buddy? Men!”  

The other two girls are giggling at Bec’s exasperated tone as she pushes herself up off the floor.  This is nearly every Saturday. The girls come over to Y/N’s flat with some kind of food in hand. Bec immediately falls to the floor to cuddle Rocco while the other girls go straight to the kitchen to pour drinks.  

“What are we having?!” Bec asks excitedly and a little breathless when she comes around the corner.  

“Peach Bellinis!” Y/N says with a smile as she hands her friend a glass. “I have bagels for us too. Did you guys bring the stuff for the omelettes?”

“Sure did, even went as far to get the really expensive cheese just for you, Y/N.” El talks with her back to the other girls as she empties the bags on the counter.

“Um, I like that cheese too,” Bec chimes in with a pout before taking a sip of her drink. “Fuck! This is really good!”  

“Alright, let’s not guzzle it, babe,” Y/N laughs as she pours some oil in the pan to saute the mushrooms El is handing to her.   

They fall into easy chatter as Y/N makes their omelettes while El throws a couple bagels in the toaster.  Before long she’s plating their omelettes and scooping fresh fruit onto the dish as well. El has the bagels and spreads on a plate in the center of the island as Bec refills their drinks. They get situated around the counter and start to dig in but Y/N doesn’t get further than two bites before there’s a knock on her door.  

“Why is this everything fucking weekend?” she rolls her eyes as she chuckles, pushing her stool back from the island.  

She basically stomps her way over to her door, pulling it open quickly with a bemused look on her face. “Hello Andrew,” she says flatly.  

“Hey babe, you busy?”  He smiles.  

Andrew, her neighbor, appears at her door almost every weekend, usually perfectly timed while the girls are over.  

“You already know I am.”  

“I know you have bagels in there too, Y/N. Spare one for your favorite neighbor and I’ll be on my way.”

She huffs as she leaves him in the doorway to go back to the kitchen. Bec and El’s eyes are already on her when she turns the corner.

“Pain in the ass wants a bagel!” She exclaims loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re such a fucking leech, Drew!” Bec calls out to him.  

The girls are giggling as Y/N fixes the damn bagel quickly, wrapping it up in a napkin to deliver it to him.  

“You’re the best, Y/N.” His smile is huge as she walks over to him with her arm extending the food out to him. “You got plans tonight? I can repay you with dinner at mine.”   

“Aw, I can’t Drew, I have a submission due Monday for my case and still have a lot to go over.”  

“No biggie, next time.” He says casually with a smile, “Have a great day, ladies!” He calls to the girls in the kitchen as he gives Y/N a wink before turning to go back to his apartment next door.  

“Think he’s in love with you,” Bec says as Y/N is coming back into the kitchen.  

“I don’t know,” Y/N releases a puff of air before continuing, “He’s really nice but I don’t want to lead him on.”  

“Just fuck him already, put him out of his misery.” El chuckles around a bite of food.

“I just said I don’t want to lead him on!” Y/N laughs as she climbs onto her stool again. “You guys know I don’t have time to start that right now.”  

“You can just sleep with him Y/N,” Bec interjects, “You don’t have to date him.”  

“He’s cute and all but I just don’t see him like that. He’s a friend. Which sucks because it would be convenient with him being next door and all.” Y/N laughs lightly.  

“So convenient!” Bec chuckles sarcastically.

“Yeah, if the most enticing thing is the convenience it’s not worth it,” El says before taking an exceptionally large bite of her bagel.  

“My thoughts exactly,” Y/N agrees, “It does suck though. I haven’t even been on a date since moving here, let alone had sex. Not that anyone is knocking down my door-”  

“Andrew is,” Bec interrupts with a chuckle, “literally.”  

“You don’t really put yourself out there either babe,” El says softly.  

“I know. You know how I get. I’m nervous meeting new people and honestly I’m too tired most of the time to even go out and try.”  

“Yeah, but what are you gonna do, never have sex again?” Bec questions with her eyes wide as saucers.    

“Even if I did go out, I can’t do one night stands. I just can’t get into if I don’t know the person. Which blows because my vibrator is seriously lacking lately.”  

“Sounds like nothing’s blowing,” Bec mumbles before getting a whack to her arm from El.  

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the girls finish their food. El leans back in her chair with her drink in hand, “What about phone sex?”

Y/N chuckles, “What about it?”

“Would you be into it?”

It’s quiet for another moment, all three of the girls eyes flicking back and forth between the others.  

“I dunno, sure. I mean, what am I gonna do, just try to find a random guy to call?” Y/N chuckles.   

“Alright, don’t shoot me down before you really listen, okay?” El says, eyes intent on her friends.  “I have a friend that has used this service that you can call. You pick someone based on their profile.”

“And have phone sex with them? I don’t think so.”  Y/N shakes her head, immediately put off with the idea.  

“I just said to hear me out!”

“That just doesn’t sound like something I would like.”

“Y/N,” Bec says quietly, both of her friends looking at her with raised eyebrows. 

She opens her mouth to speak again, to knock the idea out of their heads, but instead decides to huff and close her mouth again.  These girls care about her, she brought up something that’s bothering her and they’re trying to find a solution, like good friends. The least she could do was listen.  So she grabs her drink again, takes a big gulp and leans back in her chair as a motion to continue.  

El takes another swig of her drink before continuing, “You wouldn’t have to leave your flat. You wouldn’t even have to leave your bed. No getting ready, no going out to sketchy bars meeting sketchier guys.”   

“In theory, yes, it sounds like a good idea. But I don’t like one night stands. You think I’ll be able to just call someone and have phone sex with them?” Y/N questions, speaking quickly as she tries to explain to her friends why this isn’t for her. “Where’s the intimacy?”  

“That’s the thing though, you could have intimacy,” El argues. “They have very in depth profiles. Everything from physical features, what they’re into sexually, what books they like-”

“The books they like?” Y/N questions with a raised brow.  

“Yes, the whole point is for you to build a connection with someone. The workers want to build a connection with you too. It’s not like a sleazy phone service you’re thinking it is. They get off with you.”  

“Shit... can I get the number?” Bec chimes in with bright eyes and a raised brow. 

They’re all quiet for a few seconds before breaking into laughter, giggling into their drinks as the tenseness in the room dies down. And as the laughter subsides Y/N thinks about how much she trusts her friends. They only want to help.   

“Alright, I’ll look at it. No promises!” Y/N points her finger back and forth between her friends.

“Where’s your laptop? I’ll bookmark it for you,” El says as she pushes her chair back while grabbing her plate.  

“On the coffee table.”  

“I don’t know, Y/N. Sounds pretty good to me,” Bec says with an optimistic smile as El puts her dish in the sink and goes to plop down on the sofa. “You might like it.”  

“Maybe. It would take the hassle of actually going out to the bar. I hate going to the bar, the men are always shit.” Y/N laughs as Bec raised her glass to clink it against hers and finishes off her drink.

“There!” El says excitedly as she closes the laptop. “Just take a look at it. You never know.”  

Y/N agrees that she’ll look at it later, reiterating that if it doesn’t seem like something she can get into they’ll have to squash it.  The girls stayed for another few hours, snuggled up on the couch to watch Pretty Woman as they sipped their Bellinis.  They helped Y/N straighten up her kitchen before giving cheek kisses and “see you Monday” promises were called from the door.

Later that evening, after spending nearly four hours working on her case, she carried her laptop into her room to toss it on her bed as she went to take a quick shower. It was nearly 11pm when she was finished doing her normal nighttime routine of lathering herself with daisy scented body lotion and face moisturizer.  

She climbed into bed with wet hair to scroll through some of her social media but paused as soon as she clicked on the browser, her eyes immediately going to the little bookmark below her search bar that El labeled give me a try.  She hovered her mouse over it for a moment before clicking on it.  

She was brought to a sign up prompt asking for basic info like her name, email, age, etc. She filled in the fields and accepted the terms, her heart rate picking up a tiny bit before clicking continue only to be prompted with another set of questions.  She noticed the bottom of the page was number 2 of 6, making her huff with a shake of her head as she closed her laptop.  

She sat there for a minute, fingers tapping on the top of the computer before slowly opening it again.  She went through the rest of the questions slowly, asking her what her sexual preferences were, kinks, fantasies; questions that would help narrow down her choices of profiles and suggestions.  

The last question was a simple “What are you looking for?” with a four prompt answer just like the others.  She clicked the last choice, I don’t know.

She really didn’t know. She was still very skeptical about the whole thing. But she accepted the terms, entered her credit card information, and was met with a list of 50 initial matches.  

She started clicking on random profiles, coming across detailed pages of men describing themselves, their nationality, physical features like eye color, hair color, build.  There were lists of their favorite food, TV shows they like, books they love, just like El said. There was a section for their sexual interests, each profile listing what they were into both in real life and over the phone.  And each profile had a voice memo.  

She looked through a few of them, liking certain things from each page but no one really standing out. If she was honest with herself, she was probably taking the profile too seriously. Should she be basing her decision on the books they’re reading and the food they like as much as what they like sexually? Probably not. But she couldn’t help herself. If she was going to do this she wanted to actually be able to talk to him, build some type of connection, just a small one so that it didn’t feel so impersonal.  

She scrolled down another page when the user name Smooth Operator caught her eye, making her chuckle lightly.  She clicked on his profile and started scanning through his answers to the prompts; green eyes, brown hair, six foot. He was British, 25 years old, and enjoyed playing the guitar in his spare time.

He likes books like Rob Sheffield’s Love is a Mix Tape. Okay, that earned him a point. She went through the rest of his profile, laughing at the little quips he gave as answers. He seemed light and funny, if she could judge him based solely on his profile. She read what he liked during sex, her cheeks going warm at some of the things listed.

They seemed to be on the same page with interests. That was one of the things about Y/N though, she wasn’t into anything hardcore but she also didn’t want to just label herself vanilla either. She just couldn’t express the things she really wanted unless she knew the person, until she felt safe with them. That was one of the main reasons she didn’t like one night stands. She could never bring herself to get comfortable enough to enjoy it. The couple she had were quick, sloppy, missionary fucks that didn’t get her off and left her feeling unsatisfied physically and emotionally. She needed the emotions too.  

Smooth Operator seemed like he wanted the same thing, mentioning one of the things he liked about this site was the unique connections he’s able to build with his clients.  She read over his profile two times, biting her lip as she paused her cursor over his voice memo before clicking play.  

“Hello, ‘m sure it’s probably weird to be on the receiving end of this but… If ya consider me, thank you, it would be an honor to talk with you. If not, I hope you find whatever it is that you’re looking fo’. Cheers.” 

Her pulse picked up just at the few simple sentences. His voice was deep, so deep and he spoke so slowly. Something that would probably take her 10 seconds to say took him 15, but she liked it. He seemed unhurried, and sweet, and actually keen on conversation - not just having a wank at the sound of someone's voice and being done with it - so she clicked the accept button beside his username before she could talk herself out of it.   

Her heart fluttered at the text field immediately popping up.

Thank you for choosing me! -H.  

She realized quickly that it was just an automated message but it still made her heart flutter. She was definitely nervous. She sat there staring at her computer screen, not knowing what to do next. How does this work? Can she just message him? How quickly would they talk on the phone? How much time does he really give to talking before he’s moving the conversation to sex. It was the unknown that made her the most nervous.  

Her eyes flick over to the glowing “Online” next to his username and just as quickly she notices the three tiny dots that appear in the text box. Shit. 

Hi there. Thanks for choosing me. How are you? x   

Alright, this is happening.  She takes a deep breath before slowly typing her response with slightly shaky hands.  

Hey! Of course. I really liked your profile. I’m good, can’t really complain. Nervous if anything. This is my first time on here.  

Nothing to be nervous about. I’m a gentleman. Promise. My names Harry.

Of course it is, she thought. Of course he has a cute name.  

Y/N. Nice to “meet” you Harry, haha.

A pleasure. What brings you on here?   

She pauses for a second, shouldn’t that be pretty obvious? What with the nature of the website and its purpose? But in all honesty, she wasn’t sure what she was doing on there.  She watched as the tiny dots appeared again before another message came through.  

Share whatever you’re comfortable with.

He was sweet. She was also taking a really long time to answer.  

Ha, thanks. I don’t really know. My friend told me about the site. I moved here a little less than a year ago and I work a lot. I’m not really into the bar scene but I guess I’m just looking for some companionship. And I haven’t had sex in a while, to be honest. Not really into one night stands but too busy to really start anything serious. So here I am.   

She figured there was no reason to tiptoe around it. They both knew what the site was for, regardless of the connection either of them were looking to make. 

Well I hope I can help. Whether you’re looking for someone to talk to or if you want to have an orgasm so you can fall asleep easily, I’m here. What do you do for work?   

Her heart was pounding, guessing he didn’t see the point of tiptoeing around either. She liked how blunt he was, how he just laid it out there that he was down for either. And also how he kept the conversation going. She thought about if she should really tell him about her job. But the site was guaranteed 100% anonymous, if that was what you wanted.  

That sounds great, Harry. I’m a forensic anthropologist.

What sounds great? The conversation or the orgasm?  

She smirked at his reply. Okay, he’s cheeky.  

Both? Both.  

Good :) Forensic anthropologist? That’s fucking sick.  

She smiled as his response, liking him already.  He was easy to talk to, their conversation flowing without much effort. She told him a bit about her job and how she moved from the states. He told her how he works from home as an IT Tech and gives guitar lessons on the side, that he has a love for music and smart girls. They flirted, quick banter back and forth that had her smiling and blushing multiple times.  

It was getting late and as much as she didn’t want to stop talking to him, she thought it was best to not get too carried away so quickly. As much as she’s enjoyed it, the whole thing still made her a bit leery. Talking to him made it easier, but she didn’t want to admit that yet.  

It’s getting late, I should probably go to bed. It was really great talking to you, Harry. Talk to you soon xx   

Looking forward to it x  

***

He hasn’t been able to get her off his mind.  It’s been a little over a week since they initially spoke and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had second thoughts about the whole thing.  She seemed like she enjoyed talking to him. She gave him the lol’s at his lame jokes and came back at him with thick sarcasm and quick wit when she could.    

He couldn’t remember the last time he really enjoyed a conversation like that, especially with it being their first. He has regular clients now that he’s built relationships with over time. But Y/N? It felt so easy with her. He wanted to know more about her. Things that interested her, what she was passionate about.  

He also couldn’t help but wonder what a whimpered moan would sound like coming from her. He felt a little ashamed when the thought crossed his mind when she wrote “mmm” about a piece of chocolate cake that had her name on it for breakfast the next morning. His dick twitched at the thought, reacting without his permission before he even had the chance to think otherwise. That also hardly ever happened anymore. He’s been doing this for a while now and while sometimes he meets people that he clicks with relatively easy, he doesn’t get hard unless the conversation takes an obvious turn there.  

He liked her.  

He could have messaged her but he really didn’t like doing that, at least until they start to talk semi-regularly. He wants his clients to be comfortable and he definitely never wants them to feel any pressure. He thought about sending her a quick message anyway. Even going as far to type “Still here if you need me” into their text field before changing it to “Still here if you want me” but quickly deciding against it.  

He never does this. He usually just follows his instincts and does whatever feels natural to him. She’s clouding his judgement though. He knew she was nervous the first night, understandably. He knows the circumstances are odd, having been doing this for a few years may have made him comfortable but definitely did not make him oblivious to reality. It was definitely odd. But he wanted her to reach out to him again and he wasn’t used to that.  

More days passed as he found himself checking his messages to see if one came through from her yet. Once it had been two full weeks and he started to think he should just let it go. She was definitely not into this scenario. Or not into him, but choosing that she just didn’t like the circumstances to preserve his ego. 

It was a little after 9pm as he was sprawled out on his couch watching The Notebook when he heard a faint ping come from his computer across the room. His heart dropped, his initial reaction to be hopeful that it was Y/N.  He knew it was a message from his site from the sound but just as quickly as he thought maybe it was her he dismissed it, deciding to ignore it and focus his attention back on the film. Until he heard another ping, and another.  

His curiosity got the best of him as he paused the movie and went over to open the laptop. He was leaning over the table, clicking to open his messages when his heart dropped into his stomach.  

Hi Harry

I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA lately. I’ve been working on a huge case that I just finally wrapped up.  

Anyway, didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.

Three messages one after another from Y/N. He smiled at the last one, she “didn’t want him to think she forgot about him”. So she’s been thinking about me, he thought.  He pulled out the desk chair to get comfortable before replying.    

It’s alright love.  Everything turn out okay?   

Yes, everything is good. It was just a lot. I’m so exhausted I feel like I could sleep for days haha.   

There was nothing about her reply that should have made his heart flutter, but it did. He wanted her to get rest. He wanted her to get rest with him wrapped around her, holding her to his body. He furrowed his eyebrows as soon as he finished his thoughts. What was he doing? He barely knew this girl but the thought of holding her made him feel like a teenage boy the first time he talked to the opposite sex.  

You should sleep while you have the time babe  

He shook his head at himself as his cheeks burned once he realized he called her babe. He was typing out an apology, an explanation that wasn't really an explanation at all as to why he called her that when she replied before him.    

Okay BABE lol I don’t want to sleep though…   

His heart was pounding, both from her sarcastic babe in return and waiting for her to continue.  

I would rather talk to you.   

He took in a deep breath, reminding himself to chill.  This was his job, this was what he was suppose to do and he needed to chill the fuck out.  

Do you want to call me?   

His pulse was racing, pumping blood into his cock at the thought of hearing her. She was all he’s thought about for the last couple weeks and now the thought of being able to hear her had him riled up already.  

I was thinking we could text for now? Just not ready to talk on the phone yet. Hope that’s okay with you…  

If he was being honest, texting was a lot harder for him. Of course he would do it but it took a lot more effort to try to gauge what she liked through text. On the phone, Harry could listen to her breathing pick up, he could hear a small moan escape her lips at something he says. Tell tale signs that she likes what he’s saying and fueling him to continue. All he has through texts are her words and all he could do is hope that she would be open with him.  

Of course love. What are you doing now?  

I just took the longest shower and now I’m in bed. I know, 9:30pm on a Saturday. Really living on the edge lol. What about you?   

He chuckles at her response. She’s animated through texts. He feels like he can read her smirk and he likes it.  

Lol my evening doesn’t look much different. Serious question though… are you a pajama wearer?  

I’m more of a big t shirt kinda girl

Okay that’s good

Is it?

He bites his lip, debating what he should say. He wants to tell her that he likes it because then there wouldn’t be much in the way for him to get his hands on her skin. Warm from her shower and extra soft from the lotion she probably uses. But there is a part of him that wants to let her lead the conversation. He’s never been this torn trying to talk to someone.  

I think it is.

He shakes his head at himself as he stares at the screen. He’s being weird, he knows he is. The minutes pass as he waits to see the three small dots indicating she’s typing, his pulse picking up the longer he doesn’t see them.  Maybe she fell asleep. Maybe she isn’t impressed with his weak conversation. He twists the silver band he always has on his right middle finger as he waits, releasing a breath when he finally sees the dots.  

Is it because that’s the only thing you would have to take off?   

He blows air through his lips mouthing a thank you that she responded and said exactly what he was too afraid to say. She definitely wants this to happen. She wouldn’t have said that if he she didn’t.  

That’s exactly why. Could get my hands on you the way I really want to.

Yeah? Are you in bed too?

He smiles at her reply.  She wants them to be in bed at the same time. Hopefully so she can imagine them in bed together.  He stands from his desk, unplugs his laptop and walks upstairs to his room to get into his bed.  

I am now. And yeah, of course I do. Really want to feel you love

His heart was beating quickly as he typed his response, the beating increasing once he sent it. He didn’t want to come across too forward or make her uncomfortable but he wanted to be honest. He wanted her to know that he wanted her.  

I want you to touch me too

Just those words had his lower stomach twisting deliciously and his dick twitching in his sweats. He was leaning back against his headboard with his laptop in his lap, his cock pressing against the bottom of the computer.  

Tell me how you like to be touched

No one has ever really asked me that before. Um, my neck is really sensitive

So if I kissed down your neck to your chest, that would turn you on?

Mhm, so much Harry 

He was trying to gauge how dirty she wanted to be talked to. Everyone was different, and that was usually something he could tell pretty easily over the phone. If her voice was breathy right now with a sort of whine of his name, she would want more. Something told him she did like it, so he went with instinct for the first time.  

What about your clit? Is that sensitive too?  

Fuck, yeah so sensitive  

Bingo, he thought. All the blood in his body was pulsing to his dick now. He reached down to stroke himself over his sweats, wanting to relieve a little bit of pressure. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had gotten this hard this fast. She’s barely said anything yet he feels like his cock is screaming for attention.  

Can you touch it for me? Circle it slow.

Just a little bit of pressure, Y/N. Barely tease yourself until you can’t take anymore.

He told her what to do, what he wanted to do so desperately. His mind was forming a picture of her spread open in front of him, her center dripping as he teased over her clit while she begged for more.

Oh my god Harry

It’s good right? Got you proper soaked? 

Yeah I’m really wet. God.

He swallowed back a moan at her words, at the thought of her laying in her bed touching herself, doing exactly what he told her to do.  

Fuck. Good, go a little faster yeah? Can you dip a finger into yourself? Bring some of that wetness up to your clit for me

He was squirming more and more as he told her how to touch herself. He wanted to hear her moan for him. To know what she sounded like when she couldn’t handle how much pleasure she was feeling. He was imagining what the noises of her fingers on her wet skin sounded like. God, he hoped she really was soaked right now. Soaked for him.  

Shit Harry. I’m close already  

His eyes rolled back and he pressed his head back into the headboard, whispering a quiet shit to himself as his hips pushed his cock against the computer more. He was dying to touch himself but not enough to stop typing.  

I want you to cum. Please cum love   

Fuck

He got that one word from her and then nothing for a couple moments. His breathing was heavy as he waited, his cock pulsing and his skin feeling like it was on fire he was so tingly. All he could think about is Y/N rolling her hips with the rhythm of her fingers until she came. He hoped she came hard.  

His heart dropped to his stomach when he saw the three dots appear at the bottom of their thread again.  

Wow

Not what I was expecting

His heart dropped again at her messages. Fuck, she didn’t like it? He was way too forward with her, he thought. He shouldn’t have gone right into it like that so quickly.  

Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that was what you wanted..

It won’t happen again. Promise. Fuck 

Harry omg I didn’t mean it as a bad thing! Relax. I loved it. I just meant I didn’t expect it to be that good. 

I really thought it would be weird. Awkward, you know? 

He let out a huge breath at her response. He really thought he fucked up with that one. That his instinct was just him convincing him that was what she wanted because that was what he actually wanted.

Don’t ever do that to me again lol I think we just click really well. I’m happy you enjoyed it.

And I really hope you orgasmed.

He wanted her to know that it wasn’t just talk. He wanted to make her feel good. That was the whole point of his job but for her, he had this extra need deep in his gut to make sure she was taken care of. Completely satisfied.

Oh I did. Don’t you worry about that.

Lol good. I never want you to go along with anything just to do it. The only way this works is if you’re honest with me and let me know what you’re thinking.

He was being honest with her in the hopes that it made her comfortable enough to be honest in return, to hopefully build more of a connection with him so that she could trust him. So that she would believe that he really was focused on making her feel good.

Deal.

That was good. Perfect even.

Are you sure you’re not just a narcissist?

Kidding.. kind of lol

He barked a laugh at her messages. She was playful just in the way she typed, her personality shining through the words like a ray of sunlight he wanted to burn into his skin.

Hahaha maybe a little ;)

What about you? There’s no way you were doing anything and typing at the same time. 

Don’t worry about me love. This was about you. Plenty of time for me in the future.

His cock pulsed in annoyance as he typed. It was starting to get uncomfortable. He either needed to take a cold shower or come, leaning towards the first option because he wasn’t even sure he could touch himself without it hurting now.

Maybe next time we could focus on you? Or do it at the same time?   

His heart fluttered at her response. That she wanted to make sure he felt good too.

Absolutely x

Just one more question then I’ll let you go

He was breathing deeply through his nose, his mouth dry as he watched the three dots come and go, waiting for her to continue. He didn’t want her to let him go.  

Will you get yourself off once we’re done talking?

His lips quirked up in a smile.

Oh you like guys wanking do you?

Lol maybe

I might. It’s starting to… hurt. I’ve been hard for a while now.

I hope you get off Harry. And I hope you think of me when you do..

I would help but honestly I can barely keep my eyes open  

His cock twitched again at her words. Fuck, who was this girl and what was she doing to him? He smiled as he typed the same response she gave him not too long ago.

Oh I will love. Don’t you worry about that.

You can help next time

Mm, good. Good night Harry x  

Sleep tight Y/N xx

He watched her glowing online turn to grey before he threw his laptop to the side and pushed his sweats down to the middle of his thighs, not even bothering to take them off before he wrapped his hand around his cock.

His head fell back against the headboard with a thump as he stroked himself at a faster pace than he would normally start with. His cock was dripping precum and throbbing as he stroked his thumb over his tip.

He lifted his head up to watch his hand stroke his taut skin, his mouth hanging open in pleasure as he pushed himself closer to his orgasm. It only took four more pumps until he was coming. One, two, three squirts of cum flowing over his tip and down his fingers as he moaned deep from his chest.

His entire body relaxed, slumping against the headboard with his softening cock against his thigh and cum on his hand and pelvis. He sat there for a moment, catching his breath as he came down, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his temple.

There was a part of him that thought he should be embarrassed by how hard he just came but he couldn’t be bothered as he sat in this post orgasm bliss.

Fuck, he thought, this girl is going to kill me.   

*** 

masterlist || ask 

(Part Two)

[toujoursmiraculous]

Ladybug Reaction/Thoughts!

Fair warning, this is a very long post! I absolutely love, love, love that we get to see that flashback of him actually making the lucky charm bracelet, wondering if it’s good enough to give Marinette, actually getting Plagg’s and Nathalie’s opinion. He’s just that worried about making sure it’s good enough for her. Wow I love my sunshine boy. Adrien was literally going to talk about how amazing Marinette is to his father before he cut him off. He was actually starting to do it! Ahhh that makes my heart so happy. “Please father! Marinette deserves to have all her friends there.” Just the fact that he begged him so he could go see her on her special day. sniffs I’m not crying tears of joy! ;~; Oh wow, we never thought about Lila possibly being there in Befana but yikes. “I thought you were supposed to be protecting Adrien from Marinette. The one you said was a bad influence.” Okay, so the disgusting part where Hawk Moth is using this and Marinette to chaos havoc aside, it sounds like Gabriel doesn’t actually believe that Marinette’s a bad influence on Adrien. Which I really appreciate and hope it means something later.

Lila: “Will you keep your promise if I succeed?”

Literally the only reason she gets to model with Adrien at the end. And remember, Adrien can’t refuse to work with her as his father arranged it, so he’s pretty much stuck with this.

Ms. Bustier: “Today someone placed an anonymous note in my mailbox, claiming that you’d stolen the exam answers. And it looks the anonymous person was right.”

Notice even Chloe is just outright shocked?

Yes Alya and Adrien standing up for her! And Rose too. At least at first.

Okay, really, if she fell down that massive flight of stairs, she’d have worse than a injured knee. Just saying. She’d be taken away in an ambulance and instructed not to move in case of neck injuries. C’mon adults, isn’t this a bit suspicious happening at once at this point?

“My daughter is not a thief!”

Just watched Rogercop the other day with a friend, it’s sad and interesting this line is being used again.

Wow. Framed for stealing Lila’s necklace and having it exposed to the entire class. That sucks so much. How embarrassing to have to be in such a situation. Accused of 3 crimes in one day? Psh, overplaying it Lila.

Alix: Angry

Mylene: Disappointed

Alya: Shocked

Sabine: Crying

Adrien: Sad because he knows exactly what’s going on and knows she’s innocent.

“You know I’m innocent, don’t you, Adrien?”

The look of anger on his face as he looks at Lila after she says this. Oh how I love this so much. If this must be done at all, this is what I want to come from it.

You know, it’s really sick. It’s really sick that this sweet boy goes and tells his father about how wonderful his friend is, how her friends love and care about her, and that he cares so much about too, and he uses her, ultimately hurting him, to get what he wants. Adrien’s essentially fueling Hawk Moth without even knowing. How utterly disgusting. My poor baby’s being used in the worst way by his own father.

Chloe protecting Sabrina instead of pushing her in front as a shield to protect herself shows so much character growth, I’m very proud of her.

Verity Queen. Princess Justice.

Does this confirm later their akumatizations? Because oof I’m afraid of Marinette getting akumatized. Especially after she was going to take off her earrings to give to Hawk Moth, had Nathalie not suddenly fallen into a coughing fit!

Okay, I’m going to say this: This today was a good example of why they should know about their identities. Had Adrien known, he would’ve more likely been able to keep her calm enough from being akumatized at all, or if not that, prevent her from giving him the earrings.

I still feel that way right now, the cons of them knowing outweigh the pros, but that is definitely a pro!

Alya being on Marinette’s side, even though it looks bleak and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to prove her innocence. That’s all I ask is that she believes.

I seriously can’t believe her parents are like, until we find another school for you to go to, you have to work here at the bakery, starting right now.

That’s pretty much believing their daughter was guilty of everything she’s been accused of and that’s so horribly wrong. Okay, she’s not able to go to school right now. That’s out of their control. But you’re going to punish her, too, and prevent her from getting to the bottom of what happened so she’s allowed back at school?

“I want to help you.” “Never at that cost. Never at that cost again.” This just raises the question again at why Emilie wore the Miraculous in the first place, and why she wore it to the point that it put her in the state she’s in now. If Gabriel’s first use of the Butterfly was the Stoneheart episodes, she was using it only on her own. But what is this Miraculous capable of that she was so desperate to use it for, and why was she? Lol @ detective Alya. Too bad the lockers just so happened to be clean right before she got there. :/ True love right there, that Nathalie would very easily give up her life for Gabriel’s (and Adrien’s) happiness. Why can’t she just love someone else? Dx I know she said in Stormy Weather 2 she wonders if she shouldn’t have taken the job, and she’s right. She’s not even allowed to answer her own phone because she’s being punished for something she didn’t even do? Again, wow. “Don’t tell me. We have to go and help your Lady.” I love how Plagg’s annoyed at going to help Ladybug, and Adrien’s response is, “She and I are on the same team, Plagg. We’ll help Marinette.” as if Plagg likes and prefers Marinette over Ladybug. I already figured that, but I like how Adrien was reassuring Plagg he was going to help her. x3 “Chat Noir, I don’t feel so good.” LOL I can’t believe they put this in. XD “There’s something wrong,” HIS VOICE QUIVERED. MY HEART IS NOT OKAY. That’s NOT OKAY. “we’re supposed to be nearly invulnerable.” Wow. So I know that Mayura’s making Sentimonster Ladybug say these things, but two things: One, I feel like this is exactly what Ladybug feels about Chat. “I’ve always gone out of my way to hide my feelings for you.” Bingo! Chat: “I thought you said you loved somebody else?“ Did you guys see that look of shock on Nathalie’s face? Oh gosh. Oh no oh no oh no. Oh no. Oh heck no! Because now, she will give this information to Gabriel, and they’re going to try to figure out who Ladybug does love! And that would be Adrien! asdkjflg this is going to get real. “Your feelings haven’t changed, but mine are growing stronger every day. I can’t keep pretending anymore.” I really do think she’s pretending she doesn’t have any feelings for him, to keep them and everyone else safe. I also get the feeling that some of what Mayura’s saying can be applied to herself and Gabriel too? Okay, Chat was scarily close to having his Miraculous taken. But oh my gosh at Ladybug hurling them apart with that brute force. XD Sentimonster: Listen to your heart! Ladybug: Listen to your brain! Chat wanted to listen to his heart and believe that she really loved him. Oh ugh why must they hurt me so? “OHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FELL FOR THAT!” Totally laughing, but he wants to believe so much that you love him. :c “I’m sorry, Kitty, but you should have known. I’m nowhere near as perfect as her.” Ouch. “I love you just the way you are, m’lady.” Awwwwww. How could anyone not love these two? Sentimonster Ladybug may in their opinion be perfect, but he’d take imperfect yet authentic Ladybug any day. Sentimonster: gets a massive gun of destruction Ladybug: gets a fork “Okay, you’re definitely the real one!” XD Gabriel: Nooroo, why didn’t you wake me up?! Nooroo: I couldn’t bring myself to, Master, you were sleeping so peacefully! Lol first humor scene with them I think? I like that Ladybug gave the sentimonster her freedom and asked if she could help them. That’s so sad that she got destroyed by Mayura, but her disappearing would’ve been inevitable anyway. Dx Chat just saw some version of Ladybug being taken away from him. Again. And reacts with rage. He’s clearly been traumatized from Desperada and Party Crasher. Whoa dang, Hawk Moth vs Chat Noir. Was not prepared for this. :O “Getting sentimental on a sentimonster?” “You’re the real monster!” “Oh, that. You’ll find out very soon.” Yikes. Chat calling his own dad Grandpa. XD I can’t. I just can’t. Hawk Moth just throwing his own son off a building so cruelly like that. Doesn’t matter that he knows or not, he knows they’re kids. So Ladybug has Mayura in her hands. She could easily have just taken her Miraculous anyway, but there was no way she was going to let her kitty be harmed. “You had Mayura right where you wanted her. I could’ve managed by myself, why’d you do that?!” “Because we’re Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug by itself doesn’t sound half as cool.” “You shouldn’t say things like that to me.” OOF. Then he puckers up, and she puts a finger on his lips and says, “But the real Ladybug’s heart still belongs to someone else.” “Ha, I should have guessed that too.” I love how they’re both smiling throughout the scene. No bad feelings or animosity. And I also love that not once, has she never said “I don’t like you” to Chat. It’s always been “I like someone else.” This really means something! I feel like this episode is really foreshadowing Ladynoir stuff. I also find it sweet and sad they’re both attached to Bugette. xD “Your idea was brilliant, but you don’t need a Miraculous to help me.” she sure doesn’t oh no. What’s she going to do next? “There was something else you needed Mayura for. To find the Guardian.“ “I’m not so sure anymore.” Not sure I like where this is going :/ Wait, his name is Giuseppe? I thought it was Vincent! :O Gotta make a note to change some fanfics later..... “Your papa’s new muse is incredible.” THEY’RE GOING TO BE MODELING A LOT TOGETHER OH NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. DISGUSTING! I can’t believe he’s allowing such a thing! “She’s Italian, just like me!” I have Italian ancestors, why does that matter Giuseppe? She’s a disgrace to all Italians everywhere. Adrien: “Would you mind leaving us alone for a second?” in his normal Adrien voice. As he walks over to the chair, did you hear him grunt out of frustration? Then he just sits down and doesn’t even look at her. Which reminds me of his father. Adrien: “I warned you once already, Lila, but you didn’t listen. You hurt my friend Marinette, and that’s not okay." he says in a deep, angry voice. Yesssss! I’ve wanted this for so long! STAND UP FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE. Also, he warned her not to hurt the people he loves. So he’s pretty much admitting he loves her without saying so. Ahahaha I don’t care if he thinks it’s only as friends, he loves her. x3 “I don’t know how to prove you lied Lila, because you’re good at it. So you’ll have to come up with another lie just as convincing. Only this time it’s going to prove Marinette’s innocent.” “Why would I do that?” “Because we’re friends, aren’t we?” Okay, Angry Adrien’s a bit scary but I’m so here for it! I’ve never heard him sounding so cold. You don’t hurt his Marinette. You harm her, you’ll have him to answer to. Again, really disgusted with Marinette’s parents sympathizing and caring about Lila. My mom would’ve seen past her lies and been on my side the entire time. I just don’t see how parents like hers that have always thought so highly of their daughter and know her so well would buy into this. But I suppose that goes to show the kind of power Lila has over everyone. Also is sad that after all this, Marinette is still nice towards Lila. She’s just too good. “As you said. Things aren’t always as they seem to be at first sight.” Hmmmm well this certainly is going to mean some things later. That disgusted look on Marinette’s face when she saw Lila and Adrien’s photos on TV. XD Like she can’t even believe how things keep turning out with this girl. But the way this episode ended, this was so not the end of all of this. As this was supposed to be the last episode before the 2 season finale episodes, I’d bet that it’ll continue then. If not, beginning of S4. Oh my, are we even ready for this?

[dxnnyboi]

⌠ DARREN BARNET, 24, MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, DANIEL ‘DANNY’ ISHIDA ! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in LINGUISTICS, CULTURE & ASSIMILATION + COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a white, perfectly charming, crooked smile; finger guns across the hallway; loose laces in his shoes). when it’s the (taurus)’s birthday on 5/17/1995, they always request their FRENCH TOAST from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. 

BIOGRAPHY

He was born right outside of Boston amongst big houses, expensive cars and fine jewelry.

The youngest of the Ishida boys. There’s four of them.

He’s the not-so-happy accident in his family, which isn’t exactly a secret and it’s clear on plain sight, when you find out his siblings are 12, 13 and 15 years older than him, so there wasn’t much relationship with them, nor her parents. Danny has always been the neglected boy in the family. He’s tried to impress them many times, but at some point he simply gave up.

That did not mean he didn’t get anything material. It was the way his parents would compensate for the lack of attention and amusement. Danny had everything every young kid would’ve dreamed of. He got his first Mercedes Benz at the age of sixteen (crashed it merely three days later only to get a replacement after a week long punishment of driving a simple Ford).

Let’s get a little bit into his family. His father was always busy, if you could call drinking, gambling and doing drugs such thing. That’s on the surface, what everybody knows of Mr. Ishida. What not many people know, and he would like to keep that way, is that the Ishida family are the head of a mob organization with ties to drug cartels and prostitution rinks. Just. Very illegal stuff.

Mom... Mom just likes to take antidepressants with a bottle of champagne in very expensive silk robes.

Danny has known of the family business since he was old enough to comprehend the things he could and could not say, but before that, Danny basically grew up alone. Raised himself with the very few examples he saw in his life, which surprise, weren’t exactly the best, but he learned to be sympathetic too. Most of his life lessons though, came from movies. And he was a fan fo romantic comedies. 

Fast forward to him being seventeen and in high school. His father had been recruiting new girls, and he wanted Danny to learn. Sure, he was kind of neglected, but every now and then daddy felt merciful of his youngest son and wanted to give him a sense that they had some sort of bonding.

Dad said not to talk to any of the girls. Just fix their documents, since most of them were illegal, don’t ask names, or lives, but there goes sympathetic Danny, ready to disobey his father. 

Long story short, he fell for a girl named Lucia. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, and even though he was quite the ladies man in school, she was his first time, his first love, his first anything. It was all a secret, of course. His father could not find out, but of course he did. 

Danny was in the midst of a heated make out session with Lucia when his oldest brother saw them, and went and told Mr. Ishida about it. 

Long story short again... Lucia did not make it, which Danny did not take well, but he had to hold it all back, or things would not have ended well for him either. And ever since, Danny has been trying to find a way to get back at him for it. 

Just like the rest of his brothers, Danny had an automatic pass into Yale. He hated it, but he convinced himself this would be the end of it. That he would get a good major, a good career, a good job somewhere far far away from his family and that the nightmare would be over. 

But it wasn’t. His father’s plans for him weren’t over, and since he was the one with the least interest in following the family business, Mr. Ishida sent his youngest son to a place where he would learn how to do things on the low, to be secretive and lethal all at the same time and what a better place than Blackthorne. 

Danny almost rebelled and escaped, but upon thinking about it a couple times, he realized it could play against his father too. He would learn everything he needs to learn, be the best secret weapon as he can be and eventually shoot his shot, end with this fucking bullshit life they had. 

PERSONALITY

Despite the internal angst in Danny’s life.... his personality is far from what could expected. He’s not broody or dark. He’s more of a fuckboy with a warm smile and a wit word to charm as many as he can. Or annoy the fuck out of them. He’ll find enjoyment in both. This gif is literally the most Danny thing you will ever see. 

Selfie enthusiast. Bonus points if they happen at the gym. Definitely self absorbed. 

He loves movies, loves books, and will quote them every now and then.

He’s really smart. Borderline brilliant. School comes really easy to him as well as other sort of activities. He doesn’t brag about it, but he’s quite proud of his intelligence, because high key, his parents never really mention it. So if someone has to hype him up, it better be himself.

He speaks English, Japanese, French, German, Spanish, some Korean and is trying to learn Italian, simply because it’s hot.

He’s a sensitive child. He will cry with good songs, and some animal videos on Facebook and TikTok. He won’t deny it. He’s very proud of his emotions but will be a dick about it every damn time, and call himself a damn good person, as if.

He’s a party boy. Usually organizing them, bringing in the party goods and favors. What are his father’s connections for anyway?

On that matter, he ain’t a drug dealer and would never call himself that. He does like to share his own stuff, though. But won’t sell. Anything else illegal? Fake IDs? He’s your guy.

He always gets what he wants so he falls on the manipulative side. He will fake being your best friend, will fake having a crush, will do it all just to get what he wants.

He can be a pretty good boy too, though. Sensitive, attentive, loyal, responsible (for the most part) but be sure to always question his intentions.

POSSIBLE CONNECTION IDEAS?

Fuck boy calls for hook ups, friends with benefits, and one night stands. Give me some. Unlimited amount. 

Sum fucks he could have had in Blackthorne too. Where my queer boys at.

Exes? He kind of runs away from actual love and opening up, but I could see him trying to be a little bit serious. Of course it did not work. Could be him breaking your child’s heart or the other way around. 

Besties. He’s the bro kind of guy. Loves his friends a lot. Extremely loyal. Would lie, fight and kill for them. 

Someone who’s actually had eyes on the Ishida family. This is a school of spies, some families are in the government or agencies who could already be trying to dismantle the whole organization. 

Enemies. Just people who can’t stand him. 

Crushes?

Old friends who had a fall out after something?

Former roommates who hated him. He’s annoying, messy and is always shirtless and working out. Could have liked him too tbh.

I suck. Give me anything pls.

@gallagherintro​