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#Decorative Nai Art ideas
kimberlyalisonyabes · 4 months
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Week 12: Compulsory Question Two.
As I go over my artistic vision responses, I notice what I had in mind but wasn't able to convey appropriately. I've shared about the ways I want to keep learning throughout my creative process since I'm naturally interested and like to bring fresh perspectives to the table, but above all, as a young Cambodian design student studying overseas, I've observed that our art and culture are still limited and have yet to be appreciated internationally. Even if the local community has steadily improved in recent years as a result of the rise of young artists and skills, in this regard, my goal is to be a part of what brings forth the artistic colours of my country.
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I began my journey as a photographer. Developing my skills over the years has provided me enjoyment while working alongside an empowering community. As I progressed through the various aspects of being a photographer, I developed diverse creative skills and practices, leading to a need to broaden my learning and what I could contribute to my future vision, as well as an ambition to become an art director who can manage and collaborate on projects that will uplift my culture and brand. My biggest goal is to have my own local creative agency that is able to help the Cambodian art scene and local artists.
Cambodia is a country with a rich heritage and culture; whenever an artist designs something, we always consider ways to incorporate cultural concepts into our creations in modern days. For instance, in the music scene, artists tend to mix traditional instruments with modern sound to expand their creativity and creation. We believe that it serves as a way to internationally promote our talent and art. Nonetheless, it's also a way to preserve our history while discovering new ways to expand our artistic traditions.
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I mentioned Cambodian traditional pattern design, or "Kbach Khmer," because I like how the patterns serve as decorative components and can be adapted into various forms, such as fine arts, graphic design, architecture, product design, fashion, and beyond.
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These patterns could represent various meanings and values, or they could simply be ornamental. In the future, I hope to expose these patterns and other local artist work to a wider audience through my diligence and dedication as an artist myself. I feel that our culture deserves to be recognized, and we deserve recognition for our talents equally with our neighboring countries.
Finally, in CTS B, I acquired many important insights that expanded my knowledge beyond just designing. My artistic ideas and views, as well as the importance of how I want to express myself and my identity (CTS B), have been helpful in finding greater clarity on this topic. As an aspiring artist and a young learner, I am committed to realizing my ambitions and, ultimately, creating opportunities to not only represent myself but also to showcase the essence of my country.
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References Link:
The Gentry Hub, Humble Hanuman, January 27 2022.
Thon Varathana, ក្បាច់ខ្មែរ, December 13 2022.
@sonitaParadise
@Im.soben
@Lisa_mam_art
VannDa, Time To Rise feat. Master Kong Nay, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvje5oblrLw, 28 Mar 2021.
ម៉មពេជ្ជរិទ្ធ, កន្ទ្រឹមខកស្នេហ៍, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eigfxgn8DWw,7 Apr 2023.
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addindiagroup · 9 months
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How to Choose the Right Art for Your Home Interior
Many people find it difficult to buy the right art for your home interior, mainly because not all of us are gallery curators and artists. But there's no denying that art pieces can enhance the room's aesthetics and serve as helpful visual clues. Furniture makes a home functional, but right art for your home interior gives it character and a sense of style. If you're not the most artistic person and you're still unsure of how to choose the right art for your home interior, continue reading to learn 12 simple ideas that will help you make the right choice.
1. Narrow In on a Style of Art
Artwork can be created in a variety of styles, from the Renaissance to minimalism. You can decide to play it safe by selecting a simple item that fits the room's design. However, it would be preferable to use that wall space for an unique piece that plays with colours, textures, and design in order to make a focal point. As with this rather unique Maharani painting, it is also feasible to build an entire room around a single statement piece of artwork.
Of course, there are various ways to classify art, including folk, tribal, art created by painters, and regional styles but this one is essential to select the right art for your home interior.
2. When in Doubt, Stick With Time-tested Folk Art
Go with a style of art that hasn't really gone out of style if you have no idea how to choose it for your home! Folk art, such as paintings from Tanjore or Warli, is not a trend; it has existed for centuries and will do so for many more. In fact, if you choose one of these classic art forms, you really can't go wrong with the choice of right art for your home interior.
3. Budget Versions of Famous Artists: Yay or Nay?
Of course, not all of us can afford the kind of art of Frida Kahlo and Raja Ravi Varma. Whatever the case, having good taste in art shouldn't be limited by a lack of resources. But do budget imitations or copies of well-known painters' pieces appear a bit pretentious? Not if you choose a decent version that draws inspiration from the original rather than being a poor imitation.
Choosing the right art for your home interior is always an important point to keep in mind.
4. Support Local Artists
Allow the lesser-known local artists to play a part in your decorating plan, just as the great painters have their place. You'd be stunned at how many aspiring artists you can find in your community to transform your walls into works of art. This is not only a cost-effective choice, but it also encourages you to support original works of art, hence helping you in choosing the right art for your home interior.
5. Keep Art That Reminds You of Home
We often turn to our childhood memories while facing a problem. Our childhood homes hold a very special place in our hearts forever. Because of this, always choose the right art for your home interior and for your home that is representative of your hometown. It can be a Bengali painting by Jamini Ray or a jharoka from Rajasthan's desert regions.
6. Pick up Artwork on Your Travels
There is no single, objective definition of what right art for your home interior is; it has varied meanings to different people. It could be a fashion statement or an expression of individuality to some people. Others could see it as being entirely about experiences and recollections. If you are into the latter category, decorate your home with pieces of art you've collected while travelling. In this area, you can use a variety of items, from exotic African tribal masks to Madhubani paintings.
7. Decide Where You Want to Place Artwork
Right art for your home interior is considered more adaptable today and doesn't necessarily need to be hung up and stayed there. A focal point can be created by layering framed art with smaller pieces and keeping it on the floor next to the wall. They can be combined with personal objects to make vignettes. You'll need to choose the piece's size, frame (or lack thereof), and other features based on where you intend to hang it. Source Link: https://addindiagroup.com/how-to-choose-the-right-art-for-your-home-interior/
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teacherintransition · 11 months
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Seventeen Months in Round Rock
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A very different experience …humbling and eye opening.
Since February 2022, we’ve spent forty eight out of sixty two weeks traveling through out Texas, Louisiana and Great Britain. It’s been a roller coaster ride of adventures and experiences. We’ve learned a lot about ourselves and unplanned moments, some of which have turned us upside down. Round Rock was unique in the unplanned area …definitely. Long periods away from Nacogdoches, an horrendous ice storm, lots of guests, a cancer scare (see previous article …three scares in three years), a month long stay in a less than desirable extended stay hotel. It’s been a scene man …, but more positive situations than negative here in the Hill Country.
First off we were really happy to have some friends from back in the day share our time here. These guys gave us a social base we’ve not had in our previous travels.
For going on three years, I’ve extolled the merit, nay vital importance, of planning when life changes. C’mon, changing the direction of one’s life is stressor numero uno let alone having to deal with surprises coming out of left field. We all know that things go according to planned…right? Have I heard this before? Deja vu! It has been my personal experience since becoming a teacher in transition that the great Scottish poet and patriot, Rabbie Burns, in his poem, “To a Mouse,” actually is more spot on when describing the results of planning: “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” Perfectly said, am I right? In our four months here, besides the aforementioned events nothing has gone seriously “a-gley,” au contraire, in fact, things have gone incredibly well for my wonderful wife in her new temporary place of employ. Her self confidence and sense of contribution to the nursing field have increased immeasurably. Things went so well, that my lovely partner was offered an additional month at yonder hospital. So what in the hell O’ great teacher in transition, why are you writing about things if they went a-gley or awry? We, as previously experienced in Alexandria and Granbury, expected to feel at home and at peace as we had in the southern Llano Estacado and in Louisiana. The Hill Country was a more challenging place, but being close to my nephew Aaron, my buddy Scotty and his son, Matt & Brette Kuban, a former colleague Mark, Robyn; and visits from my sons Brendan and Erik, my sister in law Nancy and one of the Quadrumvirate …Radolpho kept the time in the Austin area lively.
We just thought that we’d lower our heads for thirteen weeks and accomplish our goals and move onto the next one. But…but…love the place and the people? Oh great….again? Who wanted that? Now, it is heartbreaking to leave. Why does this keep happening? The world ISN’T a cesspool of struggle and strife? Who’d a thunk it? For my wife, she has been treated as a professional of the highest order; made special friends of her co workers and one might say she has been compensated lucratively. …she has. (wink wink) I’ve done a great deal of writing, photography, hiking and exploring. The variety of restaurants has been incredible, the historical sites and art venues numerous and all employing excellent, friendly folks from the region. It is among these locales that we have met wonderful people that will never be forgotten.
I discovered long ago that a truly wonderful coffee shop is a place where ideas and conversations flow like fresh brewed elixir from the coffee bean. When we got here, there were a number possible shops. On day one, I walked into the Lamppost Coffee Shop …decision made. There were walls decorated in a calming eggshell white offset with masterfully composed photographs of the region. I’ve gotten a tremendous amount of writing done in such a vibrant environment. I have also spent many wonderful cool afternoons sitting outside, drinking tea and people watching. In a world of going hither and yon, the Lamppost has been a haven of good coffee and peaceful surroundings.
If you know me in any way, you know the word “pub” carries an almost, to hell with almost, a TRUE mystical significance. It ain’t just about the drinking my friends, but that is an important aspect. One can get a drink in a bar, a saloon, a cantina, a club, a bar and grille, a restaurant, a cooler….but none of these places come close to being a pub. A pub is something else altogether. A haven for those beaten down a bit, a place for those lonely in their soul, a well of happiness for one seeking conversation and companionship. A true pub has an old world feel, it has a dark calming aura, and a sophisticated selection of whiskies. In my personal experience, I’ve only entered into a handful of places that qualify as a true pub in the magical sense of the word. In Granbury, I didn’t come across a clear watering hole that fits my standard of a public house, but we did find some pleasant places for relaxing libations. In Round Rock, a couple of spots qualified as “pub worthy.” The Ruby Bar is an excellent, out of the way just north of downtown. The staff was excellent and they serve a truly outstanding Old Fashioned. It’s a perfect after dinner spot. Aces to the Ruby.
The Brass Tap was truly an “every man’s” pub spot. A long bar with a charming snug and a collection of whisky/whiskeys that any aficionado would be amazed to sample. They have a $15k shelf of bourbons that could break the bank if one did more than just stare and salivate at the grand bottles. Afternoon drinking or out for the evening, The Brass Tap was welcoming, warm and a peaceful spot for a libation or several.
We planned for many things on this adventure and many wonderful things have taken place. Ive yet to adjust to having my heart broken joyfully by these wonderful locales. I had people warn me that Alexandria was a rough city; a run down city, a crime ridden city….bless their poor, slow little hearts. I had folks warn us that Granbury was just a hick spot in the road. Most of the criticisms of Round Rock centered on traffic …I’ll go with that one; but good friends and good times outweighed all the negatives. If you look for the negative…it will be found. I look at things with my soul’s eye…it’s then that you can see the magic of a place and the beauty of another’s spirit. I didn’t expect to love these people and this place…but our hearts are healed and we didn’t know they needed healing. Thank you Round Rock and au revoir.
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decorishing · 2 years
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[gallery] Size:25" x 25" | Color:Bombay BohemianAbstract Art Curious to try something new? Why not learn the language of colors? Our collection of abstract art will introduce you to intriguing concepts and emotions evoked by brushstrokes, shapes, and composition of art. A genre of modernism, abstract art, was founded by Wassily Kadinsky. It represents objects and ideas in an interpretive way. Other famous abstract artists include Piet Mondrian, Joan Miro, and Jackson Pollock. See their work come alive with the painterly quality of our museum-grade canvas. Botanical Art Craving Daffodils in the fall, or Snowdrops in the spring? We got you. Grow a fantastical garden of your favorite blooms all year long with our gorgeous botanical art. From sublime collages to vintage illustration, our collection of botanicals become wall-ready in our handcrafted frames. Before photography became a thing, illustrations of plants, flowers were the only way of recording, identifying the various kinds of plant species in the world. Pierre-Joseph Redouté, Maria Sibylla Merian, Annie Pratt are some of the most prolific botanical artists of the past. Make sure this fitsby entering your model number. [Size Options]- 15'x15" Inch Or 25"x 25" Inch ,Package Included 1 piece stretched and wood framed canvas prints. [Feature]-Artist : Danhui Nai Style : Contemporary Subject: Illustration [Widely Application]-Perfect decoration choice for Yoga Room , living room,bedroom,office,hotel,bathroom,dining room,kitchen,bar etc. These are Nordic designs which fit in well any room color design [Ideal Wall Art]-A creative gift to your family and friends in birthday,wedding,anniversary,thanksgiving day and other festivals. [Premium Quality]-High quality printed canvas stretched and stapled to durable shrink resistant frames,made in and shipped from the USA. [Easy to Hang]-Package is wrapped and membrane covering,hanging accessory kit included. [amz_corss_sell asin="B08ZGNV85K"] https://www.decorishing.com/product/texture-of-dreams-bombay-bohemian-indian-vintage-flower-pattern-wood-framed-canvas-print-mandala-home-decor-wall-art-for-yoga-living-room-bedroom-office-25-x-25-bombay-bohemian/?feed_id=36208&_unique_id=62807209973b0
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glamourmaxx1 · 2 years
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Elegant Nail Designs Ideas That You Must Try!
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Many ladies have a dream of having beautiful nails that enhance their overall beauty too. Nowadays, there are various elegant nail designs ideas such as, Cute Summer Nail Designs, Acrylic Nail Designs, Decorative Nail Art ideas, and others that are very popular. Hence, in this post, we are giving you a list of various Nail designs ideas that you must try. Marble Nail Design If you are looking for eye-catching gel nail colour ideas then you can go for the Marble Nail design. This idea is known for its attractive design and fits perfectly with many diverse fashions. The marble effect in this design can be created by using a thin brush using various colors as per your choice.  Stiletto Nails View this post on Instagram A post shared by 💅🏻𝔸ℕ𝔾𝔼𝕃𝕀ℕ𝔸💅🏻 Ногти Минск (@neellya) Stiletto Negative Space Nail design looks super charming and is preferred by those ladies who have a stylish sense of fashion. This design may remind you of trendy stilettos and is must-try nail art. Hence, Stiletto Nail design can be tried in different colors and always looks eye-catching.  Swirled Twirls Bridal Nail This is one of those nail ideas that are perfect for the brides as well. You can go for this art by using two-color nail paint. It can be easily designed at home by using a toothpick for designing the swirl and twirls. This nail art is suitable for short nails as well and you can never go wrong with this design because it looks very elegant. French Elegant Nail Design Ideas French Nail Design is one of those Cute Summer Nail Designs that you will love to wear. This looks super charming due to its glam design and transparent element. You can create this design by using transparent nail paint as a base and white color for stripes at the upper part of the nails. Thus, the stripes French blend beautifully with the nude aspect of the nails and make it perfect for summers too. Heart Negative Space Nails Next on the list of elegant nail designs ideas is Heart Negative Space Nails. This is one of the Fancy nails ideas that is best to choose when you go on a date or a party with your loved one. Cute little hearts when designed over a base of light color nail paint looks very appealing. Apart from this, you can also place some rhinestones too in to make them suitable for any other occasion as well. Stones and pearls nail design Stones and pearl nails are counted amongst the popular decorative Nail Art ideas. You can choose this nail design if you are going to wear an embellished dress. In this design, a base is applied and some stones and pearls are applied to have a prettier look. Glitter Coffin Nails Glitter Coffin Nails are very adorable and look staggering. This design is ideal to wear for any occasion and is perfect for those who have short nails. You can select any color as a base and then apply glitter nail paint. Moreover, to give a flawless finishing, coat it with transparent nail paint. Sunset Effect No doubt, that many people love to view sunrise and sunset scenes. It looks awesome in real and in nail design too. Yes, Sunset Effect Acrylic Nail Designs look very fantastic and are also ideal for short nails. By adding a little fire to your nails, you can be the center of attraction with the sunset effect by using orange, red, and yellow color. So, this nail art is at least praiseworthy of giving it some reflection. Geometric Pattern If you wish to exhibit some awfully stylish nails then Geometric Pattern nail art is the just-right combination. This is the most popular Gel nail colour ideas that are also chosen by various office-going ladies too. It is also ideal for various occasions and as per your choice you can go for different geometric patterns and colors as well. Polka dots Nail Last on the list is Polka dot nail design and is one of the super trendy nail art. If you are looking for Cute Nail Designs then you must go for Polka dot nail. This design gives you several options to apply a base coat and then create polka dots with the color you like. Additionally, this nail design looks fabulous in short nails as well. Final Words There are numerous techniques to jazz up your nails with stylish nail art decor. So, according to your choice, you can choose various elegant nail design ideas that match your outfit, occasion, season, or many other things. With different colors nail paint and little creativity, you can create wonderful designs as mentioned above in the post. So what are you waiting for? Choose the nail ideas from the post of your choice and start creating elegant nail art. https://youtu.be/ElL895fr_Jg Read the full article
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oddlyunadventurous · 3 years
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BOOK REPORT 2020
I’ve always been a sparse reader but 2018 and 19 had me accelerate my reading habits to the point that I think I’ve read the most books this year that I ever had. I suppose I’ll count them all here, just to make sure!! I said something or other about the Moomin books at the end of last year’s Inkt*b*r so, this being the month of traditions, let’s make a new one by tallying up my literary “yays” and “nays” at the end of the season.
Video game text boxes don’t count, online publication articles don’t count, psych/aesthetic papers and 1000 page biosemiotic textbooks don’t count, but they have sure pursued me in my sleep during the year as well. This list is really mostly for my benefit (and no I won’t get a Goodreads account tyvm), so under the cut you’ll find a list of titles in roughly the order I read them, along with short notes. I’ve done longer reviews of these books elsewhere and I need not bore you with them here. 
K. Stanislavski - An Actor Prepares (1936) I started reading this book in 2012, then dropped it because I couldn’t understand it at the time. Kostya attends acting school and gets lessons from The Director. He learns to sleep like his cat.
K. Stanislavski - Building a Character (1949) Supposed to have been published along the first one in a single volume. Kostya continues his lessons. A lot of thoughts on walking, gaits, eloquent speech, phrasing, etc. Both these books are wonderful looks into the author’s artistic life. It’s very heartfelt and down to earth, considering it’s quasi-fiction made to edutain. Very inspiring.
M. Polanyi - The Tacit Dimension (1966)  A book on the origin of knowledge, the integrated performance of skills, the emergence of life and other phenomena in the universe, marginal control between levels of reality, the moral death of the communist regime caused by the unbridled lucidity of the Enlightenment, the responsibilities of science, and thoughts about open societies of the future. This is one of the two shortest books I’ve read in the list, it covers all of this under 130 pages and manages to do it well.
B. Rainov - Eros and Thanatos (1971) A communist propaganda book attacking western mass media and escapist culture. It gets no points for being correct, as the author mostly swiped the truths from french philosophers. Very variable in its intellectual prowess, almost as if it picks its arguments in order to push an agenda. Informative but also infuriating. Also expectedly homophobic.
J. Hoffmeyer - Signs of Meaning in the Universe (1997) A somewhat pop-sciency book about biosemiotics. Forgettable but also humbly written and explicative.
A. Noë - Varieties of Presence (2012) An unimpressive book about sensory perception. Noë’s theory on sensorimotor action is worth considering but the book is poorly edited and mostly spent arguing with peers.
E. Fudge - Quick Cattle & Dying Wishes (2018) A look into a registry of last wills and testaments from the period 1630 - 1650 in Essex. The book is about early modern people’s relationship to their animals and what they meant to them in life, as well as in death. Fudge’s argumentation is sharp and her style is modern. Being a scholarly book it is really overwhelming with the footnotes sometimes, but otherwise satisfying. One gets beautiful glimpses of family relationships, thoughts and feelings that people now dead for 400 years once held.
G. Márquez - One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967) The Buendia family get all their sons killed. The Banana Company sucks. People love each other. A lot happens, generally. It is a hundred years, after all. The upper class sucks.
K. Polanyi - The Great Transformation (1944) The Industrial Revolution sucked. England sucks. It reduced all its workers to subhuman wretches. Every single decision made after the empiricists made labour and land fictional commodities has been a band-aid to the essential contradiction that the market economy wants to annihilate its human host. Laissez-faire sucks. It caused WW1. Fuck everything. Fun book.
R. Coyne - Peirce of Architects (2019) Talks about architecture and the ideas of logician/father of pragmatism Charles Sanders Peirce (1839-1914). Informative about both. Brisk and not very in-depth, but to its benefit rather than its detriment.
R. Williams - Culture and Society (1958) A survey of the 18th and 19th century England, and the emergence of the concept of “culture” as defence against the horrors that the Industrial Revolution inflicted upon society. Consists of some two dozen outlines of contributors to the romanticist tradition, from Adam Smith, through Ruskin, to Orwell, their beliefs, contributions and literary works. Very eloquent and interesting.
E. Fudge -  Brutal Reasoning (2006) A fantastic book about much: early modern views of the difference between a human and an animal, the Christian discourse of reason, the logical fallacies that lead to its implosion, the advantageous use of dehumanisation by imperialists in other to genocide natives, Montague and Shakespeare, and the ethical hell of animal murder that led Descartes to deem animals as machines so as to allow his buddies to perform live vivisections on dogs without feeling guilty about it (this is the real reason, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise). There is even space for an entire chapter about an intelligent horse who could tell a virgin from a whore and learned Latin at Oxford. This is my favorite book I read this year, so it gets an extra long review.
R. Williams - The Long Revolution (1961) A sequel to Culture and Society that’s worse. The start and end are brilliant but the middle sags. It contains some historical reviews of English cultural elements, like the newspaper industry, the Standard English vernacular and the realist novel of the 19th century, but honestly if the book was just about about the creative state (intro) and Marxism (outro) it would’ve been fine, if not better.
P. Klee - The Thinking Eye (1956 & 1964) Bauhaus boy in 1920s Germany! Love you Klee, xoxo. You really have to read his thoughts to understand his work imho. You can appreciate it just fine on the surface level, but his completely eccentric (though very self-consistently logical and sharp) views on art creation open a new outlook into his primitive approach.
F D.K. Ching - Architecture: Form, Space & Order (1979)  A staple book for architecture students. Or so I hear. Steeped in gestalt psychology. Very good, though not necessarily stuff I don’t know already. Very nice looking pencil illustrations, Ching looks to be an accomplished technical draughtsman.
H. Wölfflin - Principles of Art History (1915) A strong contender for second place in the tier list. The book examines the transition between Classical to Baroque in Italy and Germany (and all the Germany clones, like the Netherlands). It is a systematic, precise aesthetic treatise that reveals much by conceptualizing and grouping characteristic art features in which the two styles differ, then explaining their bearing on their decorative content as well as the outlook on life that they embody. Lovely.
M. Porter -  Windows of the Soul: The Art of Physiognomy in European Culture 1470-1780 (2005) A historiographical treatise about early modern views on physiognomy. The book deals mainly with the extant literature on the subject and tries to gleam what it could mean for the customs at the time - palmistry reading, occultism, persecution of the “gypsies” and the Christian scientific project of attaining meaning. Macro- and microcosms, as above so below, hermeticism, that sort of stuff. It’s an interesting read but it’s too long, the quality of writing varies greatly from chapter to chapter, and it is far too expensive. Wouldn’t recommend it.
S. C.Figueiredo -  Inventing Comics: A New Translation of Rodolphe Töpffer's Reflections on Graphic Storytelling, Media Rhetorics, & Aesthetic Practice (2017) This is the shortest book I read, mainly translating Töpffer’s 1845 "Essay on Physiognomy" along with giving his biography and some other paraphernalia. It’s not worth the price for the content contained within, but  Töpffer is the father of the modern comic book, so I thought I’d learn what his philosophy was. On that front, at least, very interesting! If only I knew French I’d save myself the trouble and read the original, which is now public domain.
D. Bayles - Art & Fear (1985) A useless self-help book. Not entirely bullshit but completely banal from all angles. Shouldn’t even be on this list but I did read it, so...
I. Allende - The House of the Spirits (1982) A child rapist gets a redemption arc. Well, kind of. All women are queens. Men are awful. The poor are wretches and it’s their fault. Oh no, the communists are going to take our land! Pinochet’s concentration camps sucked. Overall a better magical realism book than 100 Years of Solitude, to be honest. Very well written characters.
R. Arnheim -To the Rescue of Art: Twenty-Six Essays (1992) What it says on the tin. Wide range of subjects, from art appreciation, to schizophrenic and autistic child art, to gestalt psychology, to philosophy of science, to Picasso’s Guernica and the fate of abstract art, to reflections on the 20th century and the writer’s life in pre-nazi Germany and America. I love Arnheim, I’ve read many of his books and I’m glad I picked this one up.
R. Arnheim - Film as Art (1957) A book about cinematography, one of his earliest, actually, mostly a personal translation from an original German book he published in 1933. Somewhat outdated, but foundational. Not as informative to me but I don’t regret reading it.
G. E. Lessing - Laocoon; or, On the Limits of Painting and Poetry (1766) A book by a greekaboo about a fucking dumb poem and a statue of a naked dad and his two sons getting fucked by snakes. It’s misogynistic and authoritarian in several places, and altogether awfully full of itself. 100 pages of interesting observations stretched over 400 pages of boring Greco-Roman literary discourse.
L. Tolstoy - Childhood, Boyhood, Youth (1852, 1854, 1856) One story serialized in a magazine then later collated in three separate books. Aristocrat boy grows up in pre-revolution Russia. A very, very relatable coming-of-age story. Tolstoy is a lovely writer.
F. Dostoevsky - Poor Folk (1846) An epistolary novel consisting of letters between literally Dobby from Harry Potter and his maybe-niece, whom he wants to fuck. Starts bad, gets better by the end. A bit rough and tumble for Dostoevsky’s first, so I forgive him for wasting my time a little bit. A decent character study of the middle/lower classes, at least.
L. Tolstoy - Family Happiness (1859) An amazing romance novel for the skill employed in writing it. It is very short yet delivers so much emotion. Rather simple narrative at its core, but executed with such bravado one cannot help but be impressed.
F. Dostoevsky - The Double (1846) In which the Author starts swinging. A pathetic, neurodivergent old man gets used and abused by the people around him and nobody cares. Satirical and biting, better than his first.
A. Lindgren - Pippi Longstocking (1945) I last read this when I was 6 years old so I thought I’d refresh my memory. I remember disliking the book then and I can see why. Pippi’s kind of an asshole. Still very enjoyable to read. I know it’s meant for a younger audience’s reading level yet I cannot help comparing it with Tove Jansson’s books and how much better the prose in there is. Sorry.
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I think that about rounds them up! That’s about 30 books, give or take. For next year I’m hoping to:
Finish Tolstoy’s and Dostoevsky’s bibliographies
Read more econ and marxist writing (low personal priority but i have to, in THIS economy *rolls eyes*)
Finish the Tintin and Moomin comics, as well as Jhonen Vasquez’s collection of edgy humor
Read more about botany and biology in general
Get started on Faulkner’s and William Golding’s bibliographies
Read more children’s books
Search for more Latin American fiction from the Boom
Read more psych/aesthetics/pedagogy literature, which seems to have become my main area of interest
Thanks for sticking till the end of the list, hope you’ve learned something and maybe you’ll pick one of these up if it took your interest. I don’t have to be a philistine just because I’m drawing video game fanart! Bye now!
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boogiewrites · 5 years
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Choking On Sapphires 89
Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)
Title & Song: Bad Company
Summary: Genevieve begins standing up for herself and others with her new found sense of self. Alfie sits back and enjoys the show. 
Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence.Verbal fighting. 
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Alfie and Genevieve were working again, and more importantly, working as one cohesive unit. Still light with his affections, trying to appreciate the subtle physical affection between them that was backed with a more mature and solid love behind it nowadays.
 They focused on tone and respect, checking in on each other and being understanding of the others space and feelings. Gen found herself enjoying her time with Alfie more now that she was spending less with him. She had time to paint and think again, two things she had sorely needed more of in her life to get herself straight again. She was figuring out who this new woman was, and how she fell into place with Alfie and who he was at this juncture. It led to more confidence, better communication and a deeper intimacy outside of sex for them. Which at Alfie's age his back and hips truly appreciated. 
They talked with tea and biscuits before bed every night. A rundown of the day and the questions and concerns it brought them putting it all away with the China when no more could be done for it. In turn the lack of talking led to more tenderness, small kisses and strokes as they wound down together, Genevieve letting her guard down only for him most days now. It let her feel cared for and safe as he’d wrap her up and hold her close as she fell asleep and it gave him the protective and providing feelings he needed as a man. They were evening each other out, finding their new roles within the relationship and the pieces were beginning to fall into place. 
———
With a pin-straight posture and the newest in women's business wear from Paris, a treat to herself for her recent successes, Genevieve sits perched on a wooden chair that must be as old as the school building itself for how uncomfortable it was. She sits across the long banquet table in the great hall from a man who could also be considered dated and out of fashion, the same as his surroundings. There was only one other woman in the group for instructors and heads of the art department, and she taught dance. She was older but fit and always wore her hair in a tight bun that did her frail and gaunt face no favors. Her attitude also didn’t help her seem any more approachable but that seemed to be common among the ballet type. They were all tight strung and old fashioned, strict and elitist, the same could be said for everyone else on the board except Genevieve. She was the youngest by around two decades and the only with a tailor that wasn’t an octogenarian. 
“Everyone who votes for Beatrice Langston, a show of hands.” The head says as his slumped posture from being bent over a desk his whole academic life, makes him look like he struggles to lift his head to see a show of hands. Everyone but Genevieve.
“Really?” Genevieve asks with direct eye contact with each person after the count was finished. 
“I’m sorry Miss Durand but majority rules.”
“You are all going to sit there and tell me with a straight face that Beatrice is better suited for the scholarship than Hazel?” No one speaks and avoids her aggressive gaze. “Beatrice is rudimentary at best. She lacks the understanding of color theory and her depth of field is just...well it’s lacking. To put it politely.” Gen speaks with an animated tone and body as she moves paintings around on the table. “Look at these Hazel has done! Brilliant use of color and saturation, everything is scaled to perfection and her abstract art evokes emotion and shows a much deeper grasp of the poetry and psychology of color and space!” Gen raises her voice and holds up a painting with both her hands, shoving it in the others faces from where she sat. “Beatrice hasn’t even DONE an abstract piece!” She tosses the paper and sorts back loudly in her chair as it scoots.
“The vote is final Moss Durand, I’m sorry you-“
“No, you’re not!” She scoffs and his eyes go wide. “I know why you’re all voting for her and you should all be ashamed. You should have your educator privileges revoked because you don’t give a damn about these children and nurturing them.” She speaks from the heart, fully upset and letting it show. 
“Miss Durand that is quiet enough.”
“So you’re going to tell me you’re voting for Langston because of her skill and NOT because of who her father is?” She crossed her arms and leans toward the annoyed-looking man.
He says nothing in reply. “Our vote is-“ 
“Yes final!” She throws up her hands and rolls her eyes. “I am so completely disappointed in every single one of you for not voting for talent over a name. Hazel could use this scholarship, Langston has money! And no talent.” She shakes her head. “All because of who her father is! Ridiculous!” Genieve huffs. 
“Like you’ve never benefited from who your father is.” One is the men say with a cold side-eye that they would soon regret.
“Excuse me, Garrett?” She stands slowly and others sink back into their chairs.
“Miss Durand pl-“
“NO!” She shakes her head and begins speaking with her hands to the head. “No, I will not sit here and be spoken to in such a way.” She trots right across from the formerly brave academic and scolds him like a child with a pointed finger. “You don’t know a damn thing about me you glorified bookend! I lost my connection to my father and his name at seventeen! Everything I have has my blood sweat and tears in it! I have worked My arse off for my successes and you, nay, no one will say otherwise because it would be a lie.” She hisses and shouts. “A girl should get this scholarship on hard work and talent, not a name! Just because you’ve never worked for anything doesn’t mean others aren’t deserving! We can’t all be born with rich fathers and cocks and just waltz into whatever sort of life we want! Some of us have to work for it! And since all you’ve done is make theories and sit on your fat arse and read your whole life you can’t relate! Doesn’t make it not true!” She shouts and throws her arms in the air.
“MISS DURAND! That is enough!”
“And YOU! You ancient fuck. You can piss off. The lot of you! You only represent the past and have no interest in catching up with the rest of the world on modernity. I don’t want any part of a board or school who doesn’t give a fuck about its students. I love art and I want to help those that love it as well.” She speaks and moves to gather her things as she keeps scolding. “And as a woman who knows the rampant sexism and abuse of power in academia, you should be ASHAMED!” She points at the other woman in her group. “I’d like to let you all in on a little advice before I part. Garret your beard makes you look like a pedophile. Quinne, your hair pulled back like that makes you look like a shaved fanny. Richard, you always smell like bloody mothballs and Turner, your cologne smells like horse piss. And you Gerald.” She scowls at the head. “ Everyone knows your poor dumb secretary sucks you off in your office. You’re a lousy liar and make noises like a dying cow when you ejaculate. You aren’t fooling anyone.” She sasss. “You’re a sorry lot and I’m sorry that these students have heartless twats for professors!” She begins to trot off, her heels clicking over the old stone floors in a hurry in her anger. 
The look on her face gives away her anger before she’s even in the car to meet Claire.
“That didn’t take long.”
“I left early.” She spits out and sits and seethes.
“May I ask why?”
“I quit.” She says finally looking to Claire sat next to her.
“You bloody what?” Her voice breaks.
“They wanted to give the scholarship to a girl
Based on who her father was. Not on talent because the simple thing couldn't evoke emotion with art if her life depended on it. They just want bloody money from her family!”
“So you quit?”
“Yes. I don’t want any part of that crock of shit.”
Claire opens her mouth and then closes it. There was a paycheck lost but truly not much else. Genevieve could just paint to sell and easily make up the difference. She could set up anyway and teach just for the love of it, so Claire simply nods. 
———
“She’s in a right mood.” Claire warms Alfie, setting the table for tea as he trumps into the house. 
“Why?” He demands in his usual confident way.
“She quit the teaching work today.”
“Fuckin wot? But she loves it!”
“She loves it and that’s why she quit.” Claire shrugs.
“Is no one makin' no fuckin' sense in this madhouse?” Alfie barks.
“What are you shouting about?” Genevieve comes around the corner with her little glasses on that matches Alfies and a stack of papers in her arms.
“What’s this bout you quittin?”
“Come sit and I’ll explain.” She nods and puts her hand to his back. Her calmer approach caught him off guard. He was expecting a loose canon from Claire’s warning but he only saw a very present woman in her eyes and appearance.
“Ya fuckin better.” He says loudly as he sits and she ignores his needless pompous nature.
“Aggie before our meal, some chamomile perhaps?”
“Lovely idea dear.” Aggie praises and Gen sits next to Alfie in their little corner of the table. Her in her large decorative, plush velvet chair at the head. 
“I quit the board and the teaching job today.”
“Yeah, I got that much.”
“Do you want to keep interrupting me to hear the sound of your own voice or do you want me to explain?” She asks with a tilted head and removing her glasses.
His chin sinks into his neck in surprise at her quick wit and he gestures for her to continue without a word. 
“Thank you.” She says with a large nod. “The scholarship vote was today and in short they chose name over talent. A girl who’s father has political connections was chosen over an immensely talented girl. For the money I’m guessing. I tried to convince them and they would not listen. I expressed my disappointment in their decision and one of the men thought it wise to make a remark about me. I-“
“Who fuckin said wot love, I’ll get the bastard.” Alfie swoops in protectively, still touchy about people smart mouthing Gen with the ongoing fight over gossip.
“That’s very nice of you, Cheri but not needed. I set him straight with words. Much less mess.” She pats Alfie's arm and despite his hard brow of anger for someone having the balls to speak poorly towards her, he couldn’t help but admire the unbothered face she held. “I don’t want to be a part of an organization that runs in such an unfair and uncaring way.”
“I never liked those wankers. Always acted betta than me.”
“And you are smarter than any of them could ever aspire to be, I assure you.” She praises and begins laying her papers into piles. 
“Fuckin right I am.” He grumbles in agreement but feels the compliment make his chest warm. “You seem to be takin' it well.” He remarks, seeing her put her glasses back on.
“I was well miffed at first. But turns out Spite is an excellent motivator.” She says with an amused smile.
“That it is.” He nods. “And what is it motivatin'?”
“I am going to start my own scholarship.”
“Oh! Lovely idea that.” He nods approvingly. “Total control or no control I always say.”
“You do say that.” She remarks, thumbing through a stack.
“Where exactly ya gonna get the money for such a thing?” He flatly asks. “Ya kinda lost a source of income there dinnit ya?”
“I did but I can manage. I did it because I loved it, not the money.” She shakes her head. “I plan on selling some pieces, then gathering funds from the community in support. I’m going to make it one, especially for Jewish girls. I plan to give Hazel the first.”
“Hazel?”
“The girl that should have gotten the scholarship to begin with. Sweet and inwardly little girl. Bright as the sun and so much promise.”
“And Jewish?”
“And Jewish.” She nods.
“Well, that’s lovey then, yeah?”
“I certainly hope so.” Gen glances over to him. “Lots of paperwork involved in such a thing of course. I’ll have to go by the lawyers later in the week to set it all up. But I’m the meantime I can sell and do private lessons for a price. Perhaps portraits? Be far less time consuming for me anyway.”
“And make a hell of a lot more money.”
“Yes. That as well.” She huffs out a laugh and nods. 
“Where ya gon sell at?”
“Nothing in mind yet. Places. Pieces I do have a few landscapes that are easy sales I believe. Once I had all the legal pieces in place I Was moving onto that next step.”
“How’s about me club?” 
Gen stops and looks up at him. “Really?” She says with narrowed eyes of disbelief.
“Sure. Can be a little coming out party for ya. Invite all those posh cunts and take their money.” He grins.
“You’ll have to come up with a new name for them if we’re going to be asking for money.” She smirks. 
“Eh.” He shrugs. “I just won’t say it to no one's face.” He promises and they share a mutual smile of hopefulness for both endeavors.
——————
His club would be full of what half his usual clientele was on this particular evening. The usual ruffage replaced with the wealthy that Genevieve had invited not only to get money from but to put any rumors to bed about how she might be now since the whispered about incident. It was easy enough to show she wasn’t pregnant, especially in the tight dress she’d chosen. Which was purposeful. 
“I can’t help but feel a bit fat in this.” She mutters, smoothing over her well-rounded hips where she was now carrying most of her weight gain. 
“You’ve gained weight but you look healthy again.” Claire insists. “Which is what you want. You look well fed and cared for. No signs of weakness or poverty.” 
“That’s all well good but what happens when I slap some twat for calling me a cow.” She snaps back.
“Ya first have to get over me slappin’ ya for sayin’ such a thing bout yaself.” Alfie says loudly as he enters the room in his usual dark suit. 
“But I have gained weight.” She insists on her correctness.
“Yes and what of it? Who the fuck cares? Not me. You shouldn’t. Ya look lovely. Gorgeous. Green like money and soft like royalty.” He declares with his hands on her bare arms.
“But I have-“
“Shut your perfect painted mouth love.” He shakes his head and tsks her. “I won’t have you speakin' of yaself in such a way. Not with me round to hear it and not when I’m away, yeah? You are a dream in the flesh, Genny. Always have been, always will be.” He kisses her blushed cheek. 
“Yes, Alfie.” She sighs. 
“I know ya can lie betta than at!” He grins and puts his arms around her in the emerald dress. “You are confident. You are in control.” He says with a squeeze to her. “Now you.” He nods his head forward. 
“I am confident. I am in control.” She tries to put forth some faith in her voice. 
“You will get the money you need tonight and you will charm the pants off everyone.” Claire adds supportively.
“Thanks.” Gen says with her hands resting on Alfies around her. “Last time I tried this it went miserably and I believe it’s getting the best of me.”
“You are a different woman now.” Alfie declares proudly. “I have total faith in you. As should you.” He kisses her cheek and gives her bum a light pat before pulling away. “And you do look stunnin’ love. You know I’d tell ya if I thought otherwise.”
“And I don’t know yet if that’s a blessing or a curse.” She smirks.
“There She is, right?” He laughs and pinches her cheek, smiling proudly.
——
Genevieve did muster up the hutzpah she needed before exiting the car with Alfie opening the door for her. A gentlemanly hand out and waiting patiently as he heard her measured breathing to set herself. When she emerged, she was a fully evolved woman of means who didn’t give a damn about anyone she didn’t deem worthy. 
He loved watching her now, not like he hadn’t before but now in public there was a hardness that wasn’t there before. Even though she was looking for money from these people, she wasn’t kissing any arse. She stone-faced bad, sexist jokes and when turned to see what was wrong with her, Alfie would give them no reaction as well. Solidarity and that. She didn’t clutch her chest and bend and laugh like an angel for them, she spoke clearly and in an informed way like the well-educated businesswoman she was. She wasn’t boozy and lusty and playing up her chest or hair. She wore it pulled back with a lovely bejeweled comb, her dress perfectly tailored and her jewels classic and expensive. She only
wore kitten heels, concealed under the long hem of her gown instead of her usual height giving ones since the healing had left her back a bit worse for wear. But she didn’t look any less put together for it. Alfie rather liked the shorter stature for her as he got to put his arm around her easily and whisper how proud he was of her for not giving in to their expectations of her. Everything was going swimmingly, money being signed over, appointments for teaching sessions filling up on the list. But a woman, for whatever her reasons were, decided to make a spectacle of herself. And Genevieve was happy to oblige her.
“Yes I’m doing very well.” Genevieve nods and gives a polite tone. “The new contracts with Fortnum and Mason as well as a large yield
This season for both honey and fruit. Soon I’ll be adding my hat to the gin game with my high-grade juniper.”
“I heard you got fired from the school.” The wife of the man who was being a gentleman and speaking to both Gen and Alfie equally chirps into the conversation. “So with that monetary loss
You can’t be doing as well.” 
Genevieve narrows her eyes at her but keeps her cool. “I stepped down from the board and quit my teaching position. I was not fired. I didn’t believe in how they were running the school. Since I worked there out of love for the arts and the students, not the money, that is why I am starting my own scholarship and offering lessons. Which is why you are here tonight.” She clarifies.
“Gen has been very hands-on with the building of it, suited the work helps fund that of others. She’ll be having her bat mitzvah soon and with these new business endeavors I could not be more proud.” Alfie adds to help cut the tension
“Thank you darling.”
“Well good thing everything has lined up so well for you both now, yes?” The man gives a polite smile. 
“It is a blessing, surely.” Gen nods graciously. 
“Especially after all that….” the man shakes her head. “All the bad sort of things that transpired for you. Well good that you have recovered so well!”
“Yes, a product of hard work I assure you.”
“Hard work will get you whatever you desire,
I always say.” 
What a capitalist, Gen muses. 
“Rather, suspicious though isn’t it?” The wife turns as if she’s only speaking to her husband.
“Uh...what is dear?”
“Or rather ... convenient that all this happens around this time? right after your supposed incident..”
“Supposed?” Genevieve’s voice shows bite and the man is clearly made uncomfortable by it. 
“Yes if it was so bad you don’t seem to be bothered now.”
“I am a businesswoman. I try not to mix personal and professional.” Alfie could see Gen's eyes dilate and change. He watched her closely with great interest.
“I’d heard no one saw you for months and then you pop back up just fine. Seems like if all that happened like I’ve heard you’d still be at home. Not out working. Like a man.” She shoots her eyes at Alfie who gives her a quirked brow and a snort at the audacity to come after his masculinity. 
“Besides taking care of her when she was first home, my business wasn’t affected.” Alfie speaks in a cold and calculated way. 
“I’m sure it wasn’t.” She looks Alfie up and down. “But funny how this all cleared right up when it was time for you to ask for money. Yes? When you would require others kindness?” The hairs on the back of Genevieve’s neck stand up as he watches her brow lower and her eyes go black. “People in your sort of...business…” she drags out and looks to Alfie for a moment with clear disapproval on her face. “Are known to, shall we say, over-exaggerate the truth? And as I said, awfully coincidental on the timing when you needed people to feel sorry for you.” 
Genevieve moves so fast Alfie doesn’t have time to do much but scoff out a laugh after she has the woman by her neck and against a wall.
Genevieve sinks her nails into the unmarked skin of the woman’s weak throat. Her hand squeezing as she holds her up as sputters, eyes wide showing she didn’t expect to get what was coming her way. 
Gen leans in close, nose to the woman’s cheek and ghosts over her skin and ears as speaks low and slow so only she can hear. The rest of the room falls silent and turns to watch the altercation, disgustingly interested to see if the rumors of Genevieve's ruthlessness were true. 
“The things I went through would’ve killed an ordinary man.” She hisses and the woman kicks her feet. “You would’ve died one day in.” She growls. “If you lasted that long.” She spits venomously. “I owe you nothing. But I will tell you the horrors and trials I have gone through are something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Torture. Rape. Mental and emotional manipulation. I’ve moved past all of it. My body and mind have healed so I can make a better life for myself. Cunts like you make it so I Have to push forward, be better, be more and prove myself time and time again to make it in this world. You prove nothing with your accusations. Only that you are a weak, soft submissive lemming, a pathetic excuse for a woman for those of us who have known true oppression. A judgemental miserable old hag with nothing better to do than talk about others because you have nothing of any substance to say. You are nothing. You aren’t worth my time. I am only using you as an example. Because I know others think like you. And I will continue to be better than you. To thrive despite your disapproval. To be happy and fulfilled in ways you could never imagine.” She lets go of her throat, her feet full on the floor again as she gasps and holds her neck. “That is my revenge. A life more fruitful and whole than your small mind could ever hope for. And if you ever think to even insinuate that I am a liar again. I will not use just my words against you, you rotted gash.” Genevieve stands like a snake watching its venom take down its prey slowly. 
The woman does not respond. The blood under Gen's nails and the energy around her speak enough. 
The husband looks to Alfie while this all happens, who only shrugs and watches with fully entertained eyes. This old horse got what was coming to her as far as he was concerned. He was only disappointed Genevieve didn’t slap her at the first insult. But this was well worth the wait. 
“If anyone else has any remarks about my abduction and the events around it I suggest you keep them to your fucking self. No self-respecting person would ask someone about such a horrible thing. And they won’t if they want to keep their tongues in their mouths.” She stands tall, proud and strong in the face of all eyes gazing upon her. She speaks from the gut, and only truthfully. She held no question as to who she was in that moment as she boldly met the eyes that stared at her with mixtures of fear and interest. 
Alfie stood as tall and proud as she, solidarity with his love. He gave her an approving nod when she met his eyes across the room. The deep rich brown so black when she tapped into that killer instinct now. This was a power move, strength and control. The restraint but an expression of her feelings showing growth beyond what he could’ve hoped for her. She was truly one of his own now. His warrior queen, his panther wife and hopefully the fearless and just mother to his children one day. He was overtaken with emotion, his heart hard thumping in his chest as she moved back towards him in the crowd like a snake in her green dress. She was brilliant, everything he needed in a companion. She wasn’t taking shit from anyone now, for any reason. Gone through hell and lived, came out the other side stronger and smarter and more ruthless. Same as him. She was a gangster now. Worthy to carry the Solomons’ name. He couldn’t wait to make her his own. 
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dragonfly-creative · 4 years
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The Starkid House Episode 4
All right, Ladies, gentlemen and non-binary, folks, it's time for our next chapter of The Starkid House! *happy confetti* after we saw our beloved and crazy Team Jeff Blim during their lunch time, we will watch now a very different team trying to get to know each other with the great help of yours truly. Have fun! And remember that's the show is based on @im-gonna-liveforever‘s original idea! And that all rights reserved to Starkid Productions! And that English isn't my native language so some constructive criticism would be very helpful! One more thing, I am not going to include Black Friday characters until the musical is released by Starkid on Youtube. I hope you don’t mind!
Hermione Granger was alone.
She appeared in a weird, white, empty room and no one joined her. She listened attentively to the voice of the tv host with no interruptions, out of the wall came a single name tag, and she ate her lunch unaccompanied. She could no longer take the solitude.
"Come on, that Bonnie couldn't play the role of one more character? One. More. Character!" she cried in frustration, "Wizard God, even a dumb stupid idiot is better than these walls! And the only thing I got to read here is that useless list of characters! Which I've already memorized!"
Hermione started pacing around the room.
"Maybe it's all just a bad dream. Maybe if I quit, I will wake up."
She brought her middle finger close to her thumb, ready to snap and announce her leaving, but she hesitated. Even though the chances of the prize to be real were slim, Hermione couldn't bring herself to give up on getting it. Her heart's desire could come true.
"But what is my heart desire?" Hermione asked herself quietly.
To be beautiful and popular, a voice inside her said.
"To be beautiful and popular?" she repeated, then sighed. She thought she was past it, but no matter how much character development she had been through, she still got back to this point.
"I want to be beautiful and popular…" she murmured.
"It is time," the voice said, then paused, then continued: "to do an activity together! What's better than having fun with your new teammates?"
Hermione scowled.
"Sadly, some of you don't have teammates at all. But don't worry, you will not be alone this time! For my fun activity I will unite all the one-person-teams into one: Team of loners!" the voice cheered, "Just open the door and you will find the thrill of together! Yay!"
A rain of colourful confetti fell out of the ceiling and decorated the floor, the lunch table and Hermione's hair. She took out of her hair as much confetti as she could and went to open the wooden door that appeared in one of the walls. She entered a white room, much like the room she just left, but bigger, and more importantly- more crowded. Eight more people entered the room right after her: Harry Potter, The candy lady from Hogwarts Express Train, A blond girl named Luna Lovegood, Another girl, named Vanessa, a 30-years old man named Paul Mathews, a silver skinned creature-alien-robot named Chorn, a cavewoman named Tiblyn and a great big, muscly, super big, super-hot Neanderthal named Clark.
"Now, for our activity," the voice said, "Board and card games!"
A shelf full of games came out of one wall.
“let the games begin!” the voice announced.
Harry Potter walked over to Hermione with confused smile on his face. “Herman? Why are you five years old?”
Herione rolled her eyes. “Actually, I am twelve years old, Harry. Our age gap doesn’t surprise me, because I realized it was going to happen as soon as I saw the list of characters. You see, my character was taken from a musical about our second year at Hogwarts, and your character was taken from a musical about our senior year at Hogwarts, a year I haven’t reach yet.”
“I don’t get it,” Harry said, “Why are we from different musicals?”
“It’s a trilogy, Harry,” Hermione explained impatiently, “Your actor appeared in all three parts but mine only in two of them.”
“That makes no sense, Hermione,” Harry said, still confused, “you were in senior year too.”
“It was another actress then,” Hermione replied, “Another Hermione.”
“Another Hermione?” Harry repeated, shocked, “You say there are two Hermiones in this house?”
“Chill, Harry,” Luna joined the conversation, “This is not very strange. Imagine there were two Lunas. That could be something to freak out over!”
“Hey, guys,” Vanessa called out, “As much as your discussion is fascinating, we’re still supposed to play games. We wouldn’t want Miss Starkid Show to give us bad points, right?”
Harry Potter went to check out the games.
"Monopoly? Uno? Four in a Row? How old does she think we are, six?" he scoffed.
"Let's play Cards Against Humanity," Chorn suggested.
"you know this game?" Paul asked, surprised.
"Chorn knows everything about humanity," Tiblyn explained and raised her hands toward the ceiling for some reason.
Clark frowned.
"Wait, what cards are? How can they destroy humanity?" he asked.
"No, it's just a game, let me teach you," Chorn said and touched Clark's forehead gently.
Tiblyn took a small, black box from the shelf. “Cards Against Humanity: Starkid version,” she read, “While The black cards remain the same, the white cards now have Starkid quotes and references written on them.”
“Yeah, but what are those black and white cards anyway?” Hermione asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” Chorn said and touched Hermione’s, Luna’s, Harry’s, Vanessa’s and Candy Lady’s foreheads.
Everyone set down in a circle.
Tiblyn opened the box and placed in the center of the circle the two stacks of cards: black and white. Each one of the group members drew ten white cards.
Hermione looked at her own cards. She got 
I have a very low blood sugar
 Something incredible, like a fiend Fyre Fighter or a magical astronaut or a ballerina!
 Buddies, bros, homies, amigos, pizza, Nintendo, wooo wooo wooo, let's go!
Paul and them
You're a fucking elf! 
Kill kill kill kill kill
Telling the kids not to bother mommy while mommy is busy
Someone who is auditioning for Jabba even though they have no experience
Snake… I'm a ssssnake… Where did my arms and feet go? Just kidding I'm a sssnake 
I would shrink myself to the size of a mouse. I'd leave the world of men behind me forever and live amongst the mice, And I would bring technology and art to those uncultured swine. And I would build tiny tools for their mouse hands, made from toothpicks and marshmallows, And I would be their king. Nay! Their prince!
Hermione frowned at the sentences. They didn't make sense on their own, let alone as answers to some random questions.
"All right, who was the last one to poop?" Tiblyn asked.
"I think it was me," Luna answered immediately, "I pooped right after the lunch. I really like the bathroom in here."
Seeing that no one argued with her, she took the top card from the black stack. "When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate," she read.
After a short consideration, Hermione picked a card and passed it, face down, to Luna. The rest of the players did the same. As soon as Luna got eight cards, she picked them up and read them out loud, combined with the sentence on the black card:
"When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate The Old Snatch. Is it, like, a giant statue of an old lady? It's not very funny, no offense."
"Non taken," replied Candy Lady.
"Next one," Luna continued: "When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate Something incredible, like a fiend Fire Fighter or a magical astronaut or a ballerina!" Luna giggled. "I would love to see a great ballerina sculpture," she said.
Hermione gave a small smile. It was her card.
"When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate A giant Warheads candy," Luna read.
Chorn snorted.
"Ron would love that one, he loves candies," Harry said and Hermione nodded in agreement.
"When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate Noodles," Luna read.
Chorn and Tiblyn bursted into laughter.
"What are noodles?" Clark asked and they laughed harder. The others smiled or giggled, except for Hermione. "Noodles are a type of food, made mostly of wheat and water and extruded into long strips or strings," she explained.
"Hey, Hermione, are you trying to earn house points?" Harry teased.
"No, I am just telling Clark what Noodles are instead of making fun of him," Hermione said, offended.
"But no one can understand your explanations, Hermione," Luna said, "Let me tell you what Noodles are, Clark: They are like long, dead, delicious worms. We often eat them in a bowl of tasty hot water."
Everyone in the room stared at her.
"Oh, I get it," said Clark.
"I Think I will never be able to eat noodles ever ever again," said Vanessa.
"Ok, let's continue!" Luna said cheerfully, "When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate Tiger Fucker"
"What the fuck?" Paul commented.
"That could be the ugliest statue in the world," Vanessa added.
"Or the most beautiful one," Harry suggested.
"No," Hermione replied and gave Harry a scornful look.
"When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate the story of how Krypto the super dog ran off on superman," Luna said, "good one."
"It's more sad then funny," Vanessa said.
Clark seemed confused, but Hermione didn't explain this time. She didn't want Harry to laugh at her again.
"When I am a billionaire, I shall erect a fifty feet statue to commemorate These Mike's Hard Lemonade that I can't seem to get rid of" Luna read the next one.
She, Harry, Tiblyn and Paul chuckled.
"I suppose there is no point in asking what Hard Lemonade is?" Clark said.
"They are supposed to be some kind of tasty water, but people hate them," Tiblyn explained.
"And here's the last answer, A surprise phone-call from Barack Obama," Luna finished, "What do you say?"
"I like this one," Vanessa said.
"Me too," Chorn said.
"Me too!" Tiblyn said.
Clark seemed lost. "Does a phone call have anything to do with tasty water?" he asked.
"Choose the tiger fucker," Harry advised.
"No, I am going for the one with Krypto the super dog," Luna answered.
"Yes!" Tiblyn shouted and raised her hands.
"Congratulations, Tiblyn, you got the first point!" Luna said happily, "Who wants to take a black card next?"
"I think we should go counterclockwise," Hermione answered.
"So, it's my turn," Chorn said and drew the next black card.
"What turned me into a Republican?" was the question, and the answers were:
The sneers and the glares of my cousin, my uncle and my aunt
I have a very low blood sugar
Evil King Arthur
Wizard God
Getting by newborn bugs
Damn that G.L.E.E, they're always making twisted abominations of everything!
Schwoopsie!
I'm sorry. I fell asleep because that was so boring.
Chorn chose Luna's card, Wizard God, even though only the Very Potter Characters laughed at it. The idea of Wizard God amused Chorn a lot, apparently.
And the game went on with laughter, some awkward silence, disgusted noises, bad combinations, good combinations and some gems like " Son, take it from someone who's been around the block a few times. Nothin' puts her in the mood like Being petrified", "You know who else liked Umbridge's twisted humor? Hitler.", " What is George W. Bush thinking about right now? Peanuts, the pocket squirrel", and Hermione's personal favorite: "It's finally happening! I'm finally doing it! Yes! It's time for Falling in love with Hermione Granger!"
Tiblyn won the game.
Author note: The reason I was late with this chapter is that my hyper-focusing ass made the whole damn Starkid Version of Cards Against Humanity, so if you want to play it too just ask and I'll send you all 376 Starkid quotes and references I picked to make the white cards (Yes, 376. I wish I was joking). It can be played with the original black cards.
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flowerstovav · 2 years
Text
FLOWERS IN FASHION
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An excerpt from the 1825 publication The Duties of a Lady’s Maid on the follies of passing flower fads. Imitations of natural flowers will always be more or less fashionable as ornaments of dress though nothing can be in worse taste than a profusion of them, particularly when glaring and high coloured. I introduce the subject here, because it is so closely connected with what I have been just teaching you with respect to colours. Are not flowers, it may be asked, the most natural ornament of beauty? Is it not Nature herself that still farther embellishes with her gifts the most perfect of her works? Does not the female, who decorates herself with natural flowers, find abundance of ornaments without having recourse to art. Such are the lovely ornaments used by the rural nymph, and though the opulent and luxurious may sometimes reject with disdain these lovely children of Flora, yet, though the flowers of the field are thus rejected,
Nature has reserved for them two charming thrones, the soft verdant turf and the snowy bosom of the simple shepherdess. Flowers, indeed, recall so many pleasing ideas, that a handsome woman adds to her attractions when she admits to her toilette these charming children of Spring and Summer. In speaking of flowers, a very singular whim of fashion should not be forgotten. Some time ago flowers were banished from dress altogether. The humble dark blue violet—the sweet pansy, emblematical of what is rather uncommon—hearts-ease; the golden jonquil with its ambrosial perfume were despised, and ladies looked with disdain on the lily of the valley, and the elegant jasmine, both of which agree so well with the delicate glow of the cheeks, as well as the scented narcissus, whose bending stem seems still to represent the youth enamoured of himself, contemplating his image in the crystal of some limpid stream; and they slighted the brilliant ranunculus, the tufted anemone, the variegated carnation, and the auricula, whose velvet leaves glisten with silver dust, nay, even the rose itself, the image of beauty, and queen of flowers. And what more charming objects had succeeded flowers? were it not for the known caprice of fashion, it would appear strange indeed to say, though it was the fact that the substitutes were grass, dog’s grass, barley, wheat, acorns, &c. During the rage of this fashion, which is still partially adopted, some rather odd occurrences took place. A lady, elegantly dressed, was passing close to a coach which had stopped at the door of a house, when one of the horses turned open mouthed upon her, as if he were going to devour her. And the circumstance was by no means so wonderful, when it is remarked that she wore in her hat a tuft of oats, which the simple horse evidently mistook it for a moving manger, stocked with his natural provender.
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Text
The civilizations we venerate will all fall
In the end, and with them, the decadent
Ideas that they upheld in their rotten times...
The strong are not the be-all, end-all,
For the strong have no claim to anything
By virtue of mere physical brute force,
As there are no inherent "rights",
And they, too, are governed by
Inane concepts that are decidedly idiotic,
Another way of "morality",
Arrogant enough to believe
That their ideas are universal, and are thus
No better than the underlings they
Take pleasure in brutalizing...
No one, nothing, has any power over I,
Or anything else, and to accept this narrative
Is to be a laughable fool, making themselves
But mere tools to a hand that guides,
Or rather, strangles, willingly; to yield
To the idea of being a "weakling",
And to accept that you are not in control
Of yourself, and possess no strength,
Just cowardice, and that power
Descending from another, superior "will"
Is a "just" and "righteous" concept,
When clearly it is the root of mediocrity
And the result of stupidity; these are the
Types who deny life, for they deny reality,
And are not lovers of beauty and truth,
Perfectly content with being pushed around
Or pulled around by a ball and chain...
The way forward, the "world of tomorrow",
Is not our friend, our savior, our path
To redemption and salvation that we crave...
The "help" you receive, want, champion
As humane, and just, is little more than the
Current system trying to prop itself up,
So that it may secretly, covertly, erode
Your humanity, until all that remains
Is a husk that has merged both flesh and steel...
The gear-driven gods you worship,
Make altars for, proselytize yourselves
Before, shall be the death of all things
Great, noble, pure, true, and wondrous,
And contrary to what is believed at large,
Pathways to freedom do not lie in their care...
Dreadful and wicked totalism
Appeared the day when one must
Be bowed to, some "almighty" figurehead...
"More" comes from within, not from
Outside, and those who say otherwise
Clearly are the ones who only participate
In satisfying urges for shinier and shinier
"Things", and should be ridiculed
With great prejudice, as they are
Devoid of values or beliefs,
No concept of aesthetics or spirituality,
Lacking desire for rebellion or subversiveness,
Unimaginative, uncreative, boring dullards
Who see only value in mark ups
And nothing else; dunces of the highest order...
A desire for "something else",
Somewhere beyond here, will be
Your undoing, my undoing,
And the decay of all; look what
This mentality has wrought
All through the ages...
We are not all the same,
Differences do exist between us all,
And praise and love should not be
Doled out equally, carelessly,
Frivously, dished out like the air
We take into our lungs,
For then the value of these things
Drops significantly; equality is
Absurd, a humorous concept,
A quaint little amusement,
But not at all a "reality",
And is, in fact, quite the exact opposite,
Since nature clearly did not make us,
Create us, to all be carbon copies...
Yet, this is not to be despaired about,
Nay, this only adds to the art of life,
The wonder and color of the painting
That the lovely Mother has decorated the
Canvas of our world with; and those
Who take advantage of this
For darker, more nihilistic tendencies,
Are not "aristocrats of the soul",
Despite claims to the title,
And are little better than
Abrahamics who shy away
In the face of the universe,
Running away from the cosmos,
Unable to withstand all that
Is being presented to them,
Suffering from broken minds,
And becoming reactionaries...
To reify concepts of a wholly "scientific" kind,
Concerned with just factual ruminations
And adhering dogmatically to logic and reason,
Has done nothing but drive us towards
An age lacking in character, in spirit,
And thus, in real time, we shall see
The soul dissipate and disintegrate...
The shedding of this "light" upon the
Collective whole of humanity, these
Rays descending from the sky, through
The clouds, that had come to touch
Our hearts and minds, was not a gift,
But a curse, for look where it got us today...
You are not "free" merely because you
Utter the word over and over
So feverently and passionately
In the context of your life; phantoms still
Haunt your mind aplenty, possessing
Your mind, body, soul, and heart, like
Demons from the books of the Judeo texts,
As when I gaze upon thee, I do not see
A free man at all, for you couldn't even
Tell me what freedom looked like,
Or how to act it out; your definition
In regard to the "freedom" you adopt
Is one peddled by degenerate bourgeois,
The aristocrats you become aroused at,
And this, to me, is no freedom at all; better
Men have recognized this truth many times over...
Humanity is not the center of all things,
Nor separate from all things,
As we are all part of the whole
That makes up the ecosystems,
And the biosphere, and all other
Components that comprise what
We call the natural world; we are not
Superior to it, and we hold no command over it,
Like we constantly decree, in all of our
Hubris and pride; we are not masters of
Mother Nature, and we do not deserve to be,
As Nature has her own will, one that shall
Always be free from attempts to dominate her,
Much to our frustrated, haughty chagrin; her
Embodiment of freedom, and the fact that,
At the end of the day, we must follow her will,
Her free spirit the measure of greatness,
Makes us envious, and jealous; that is why
Ecocide runs rampant, and some of us
Want to foolishly kill off our mother...
The greatness that emerges from humanity,
Bursts of heroism that spring forth,
These notions are the works of
Individuals, for we look up to great men
And women; this is not born from an admiration
Of collectives, of groups; humans are best
When they are independent, self-reliant,
Free and true to who they are, and their wishes,
Rather than rendered "less than" by
Populist notions where they are herded
Like sheep by shepherds; their potentials
Are hampered, stifled, and stagnancy
Reigns when the individual is forced
To sacrifice themselves into the all-consuming
Void that is "the group", "the collective",
Where beauty and virtue and the admirable
Go to die, being swallowed up by
An all-consuming maw, a black hole,
A rot that made humanity unable to
Live like Mother Nature, and fully emulate her,
Or, rather, follow her example as closely as possible...
All you hold as dear and precious,
That which you prostrate yourself before,
Holding higher than yourself and your own,
Bending over to be sodomized by,
Is, in fact, not real, but utterly baseless,
Fictions of your mind trying to process
The world around you, the natural world,
As well as so-called "realities"
Being beaten into you, day in and day out,
Only an amalgamation of falsehoods
Conjured up by your feeble brain; there is
No universal "right way" or "wrong way",
My friend; there's no overarching fact
That pervades all, and permeates everything,
And if you think so, then you are a simpleton,
For there is only my way, and yours...
These are the atavistic ways...
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herbyonline · 3 years
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Do you like this idea? Yay or Nay👇 by @ tyemadeit . ❌Turn ON Post Notifications to see new Contents.❗ Follow @officialherbyonline Our focus is to feature outstanding examples of architecture that consider materiality and are connected with nature and interesting landscapes. Stay tuned for unique examples that will inspire you! 🌐Enter the community . www.herbyonline.com . Like and share our content. . [tag someone who loves architecture] . #architecture #herbyonline #entrepreneur #architecturephotography #architectural #design #interiordesign #minimalism #architettura #urbandesign #contemporary #British #AmericanArchitecture #finesocial #fineinteriors #finearchitecture #interiors #decoration #luxury #homedecor #art #decor #inspiration #interiordecorating #furniture #mansion #home #house #england #usa Copyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favour of Dakar use. No copyright infringement intended. All rights belong to their respective owners. https://www.instagram.com/p/CRYNmsvKi4_/?utm_medium=tumblr
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In Granbury, Texas haben wir ein Zuhause und ein paar Freunde gefunden und wir werden sie alle vermissen!
(In Granbury, Texas We Made a Home and a Few Friends and We'll Miss Them All)
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This journey, we thought we knew what to expect, has presented us with more surprises than can be imagined…
You only think you know, but now ya know!
For going on three years, I’ve extolled the merit, nay vital importance, of planning when life changes. C’mon, changing the direction of one’s life is stressor numero uno let alone having to deal with surprises coming out of left field. We all know that things go according to planned…right? Have I heard this before? Deja vu! It has been my personal experience since becoming a teacher in transition that the great Scottish poet and patriot, Rabbie Burns, in his poem, “To a Mouse,” actually is more spot on when describing the results of planning: “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley.” Perfectly said, am I right? In our three months here, nothing has gone seriously a-gley, au contraire my enthusiastic reader things have gone incredibly well, especially for my wonderful wife in her new temporary place of employ. Her self confidence and sense of contribution to the nursing field have increased immeasurably. Things went so well, that my lovely partner was offered an additional three month at yonder hospital. Then things went slightly a-Gley! So what in the hell O’ great teacher in transition, why are you writing about things if they went a-gley or awry? We, as previously experienced in Alexandria, we never expected to feel so at home and at peace as we have the last three months in the southern Llano Estacado.
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We didn’t anticipate anything negative as we had visited Granbury often and knew it to be a charming town in the rugged rolling hills of west Texas. We just thought that we’d lower our heads for thirteen weeks and accomplish our goals and move onto the next one. But…but…love the place and the people? Oh great….again? Who wanted that? Now, it is heartbreaking to leave. Why does this keep happening? The world ISN’T a cesspool of struggle and strife? Who’d a thunk it? For my wife, she has been treated as a professional of the highest order; made special friends of her co workers and one might say she has been compensated lucratively. …she has. (wink wink) I’ve done a great deal of writing, photography, hiking and exploring. The variety of restaurants has been incredible, the historical sites and art venues numerous and all employing excellent, friendly folks from the region. It is among these locales that we have met wonderful people that will never be forgotten.
I have met a amazing community of artists who have inspired me tremendously. Happy Wells Modissette, a retired teacher from East Texas and daughter of a co-worker of mine while at Lufkin, was a serendipitous meeting. We shared our love of travel and teaching and writing. We have partnered together to write and illustrate a children’s book. Ain’t it cool? Granbury reacquainted me with being able to visit and share with other artists. There was Kyle, my barista at the Paradise Coffee House and Bistro who is a musician 90’s rock band. We relished talking about similar musical interests. That is a hunger, a need that only those of us with an artist bent (some say weird) can truly understand. They have been a needed inspiration towards new ideas I didn’t know I had. Danke liebe Freunde.
I discovered long ago that a truly wonderful coffee shop is a place where ideas and conversations flow like fresh brewed elixir from the coffee bean. When we got here, there were a number possible shops. On day one, I walked into the Paradise Coffee and Bistro…decision made. There were walls decorated in a calming charcoal gray offset with masterfully done calligraphy in white. I’ve gotten a tremendous amount of writing done in such a vibrant environment. I have also spent many wonderful cool afternoons sitting outside, drinking tea and people watching. In a world of going hither and yon. The Paradise has been a haven of good coffee and peaceful surroundings. Wiedersehen Kyle and crew… you quietly made our thirteen week stay in a strange land feel like home.
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If you know me in any way, you know the word “pub” carries an almost, to hell with almost, a TRUE mystical significance. It ain’t just about the drinking my friends, but that is an important aspect. One can get a drink in a bar, a saloon, a cantina, a club, a bar and grille, a restaurant, a cooler….but none of these places come close to being a pub. A pub is something else altogether. A haven for those beaten down a bit, a place for those lonely in their soul, a well of happiness for one seeking conversation and companionship. A true pub has an old world feel, it has a dark calming aura, and a sophisticated selection of whiskies. In my personal experience, I’ve only entered into a handful of places that qualify as a true pub in the magical sense of the word:
1. The Liberty Bell Nacogdoches, Tx RIP “au nom du père, du fils et du saint esprit”
2. The Tasting Room Alexandria, La
3. The Piper Whisky Bar Glasgow, Scotland…we’ll be there soon.
4. The Blarney Stone Dublin, Ireland …in a few weeks
5. The Old Rod and Reel Crianlarich
6. McSwiggans Plano, Tx
Here in Granbury, I didn’t come across a clear watering hole that fits my standard of a public house, but we did find some pleasant places for relaxing libations: the 1897, Bob’s, The Brew. Granbury is a small lake town along the Brazos ….saloons seem to be their forte’. They were all operated with small town feel, yet shadowed just south of the DFW metroplex.The world feels welcome here and I truly have met people from all walks of life.
What was missed in the perfect pub department was made up for in a local cigar lounge. The Granbury Cigar Lounge was just off the main drag and in a secretive niche where the ladies couldn’t find us smoking very high end cigars. The proprietor, Dave, was from CHICAAAGO and was a salesman, distributor and producer of cigars for thirty years. The lounge was a place to still do his thing away from the stresses of his previous homes in Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York. Relaxed, convivial and knowledgeable; Dave gave the town of Granbury a place to get away from it all and enjoy a good cigar.
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Any place of character has characters as patrons.There was Coach George, a retired basketball coach who I was able to share my war stories with; my man Smitty, an octogenarian with the coolest handlebar mustache and infectious laughter. Teller of “dad jokes” and pourer of the smoothest tequila I have ever tasted.I could go on and on and on extolling the patrons of this spot and others who, like us, stumbled a bit on life’s road, but are always looking to offer a hand or to ask for one when needed. There is no place on earth that offers what a local hangout gives in abundance. This place brings me joy and tears knowing that are days our numbered here. Freudige Trauer
Almost too difficult to mention is the friendship Kim and I made with Jen and her family. Kim and Jen are both sweet, loving, dedicated nurses with huge hearts. It is kismet that two such as these should become friends. We had dinner at her home and met at the local brewery with her whole wonderful family. One doesn’t understand how you can live in a town for thirty five years and not develop a closeness on equal with people you know for only thirteenth weeks. Damn, the world is a trippy place
We planned for many things on this adventure and many wonderful things have taken place. Didn’t expect to have my heart broken joyfully. I was cautious to avoid or to seek out(?) the same marvelous experiences we had in Alexandria. I failed successfully. I look at things with my soul’s eye…it’s then that you can the magic of a place and the beauty of another’s spirit. I didn’t expect to love these people and this place…but our hearts are healed and we didn’t know they needed healing. Thank you Granbury…and Auf Wiedersehen.
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readfileebookplace · 3 years
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EBook Research & Design Textile Tectonics [PDF] DOWNLOAD READ
Download Or Read Ebook at:
http://read.ebookcollection.space/?book=905662802X
"Download/Read Research & Design: Textile Tectonics Ebook
information book:
Author : Lars Spuybroek
Pages : 218
Language :eng
Release Date :2011-8-31
ISBN :905662802X
Publisher :NAI Publishers
BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Until recently, thanks to the unforgiving geometric rigors of modernism, biomorphism in design and architecture was seen a purely decorative feature--as in Art Nouveau, for example. Textile Techtonics turns this idea on its head, offering a glimpse into the future of architectural design, in which the veins of leaves, formations of foam, Celtic knotwork and even hair braiding can be transformed into breathtaking and viable structures through the wonders of digital design technology. For the celebrated architect and researcher Lars Spuybroek, such natural, ornamental and folkloristic pattern could entirely replace standardized geometric design to determine the structural basis and aesthetic character of tomorrow's buildings. Here, Spuybroek presents both a theoretical framework and an inspiring taxonomy of patterns and structures, followed by more than 100 illustrated designs for skyscrapers and facades based on organizational principles ranging from rose windows to knitting patterns.
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real-fakedoors · 6 years
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under leaves so green - CHPT 9 - Miraculous Ladybug
After the Dupain-Cheng family purchases a flower shop around the block from the Agreste mansion, Chat Noir frequents the spot in search of company from the manager-but-not-really Marinette. Beneath the mask, Adrien starts to struggle with how cute she looks in that green apron. (AKA: the not-really flower shop AU where basically everything is the same, but Marinette is extra stressed by her job and Adrien tries to be supportive)
Crossposted on AO3 and FF.net
Chapter 9: The Hummingbird Flower
In which, Adrien and Marinette are both very excited for their date, and Chat Noir decides he can't wait until tomorrow to see her.
We apologize: your regularly scheduled Marichat programming has been interrupted by a surprise guest appearance.
Marinette had never enjoyed her work so completely.
Sure, it was hard and laborious as ever, but she could practically feel the happiness seeping into her pores with the light of the sun. Every breath came easy, every customer seemed pleasant, each order was seamless, and all of her plants smiled brightly back at her. Her brash Banks’ roses were a magnet of attention, lustrous rubies beneath a cloudless sky. Subtly even seemed a quiet grace in the form of her painter’s paradise of hydrangeas or by her terracotta beheld boxwoods. Within, Marinette’s heart was a hummingbird, and the greenhouse seeped with the lush overgrowth of peaceful fullness.
It felt like she had forgotten how to frown.
Her phone had been buzzing all day, and Adrien’s name was a frequent one that came across the screen. In fairness, he hadn’t been the one to text her originally; their group text was blowing up with Alya’s planning, only to be derailed almost immediately by Nino and Adrien. As it happened, Marinette didn’t a bit. Heck, her phone could fall into a bag of topsoil and be crushed by the delivery truck, and she was certain her mood still would not be hampered.
With respect to the conversation, Marinette wasn’t able to contribute much. She was constantly busy with the demands of her job, but she appreciated that her friends didn’t fault her for her radio silence. It was simple and nice, to peek at the screen occasionally when a customer headed out the door or between restocking the shelves. Alya had been the one to initiate the four-way chat today by sending a picture of the Louve from the street - why she was around that part of town, Marinette hadn’t a clue - and pushing the La Nuit des musées idea onto all of them, but since then the conversation had degraded to mostly dumb humor and well-meaning goading between the boys.
Alya was by no means absent, though. She and Nino poked plenty of fun at the both of them for their date plans tomorrow night. Adrien had been quick to try to shut it down (for what he said was Marinette’s sake, to not make her feel uncomfortable) but they were persistent. Still, through dodging plentiful innuendos and frequent sarcasm, Marinette thought Adrien seemed rather excited to talk about it.
Proud, even.
That thought sent her running towards the back with rose-tinted cheeks more times than she was willing to admit.
The reporter-to-be eventually looped them back to a proper topic, about spending that Saturday night at the La Nuit des musées. It was an annual event in Paris that only happened one night of the year where all of the big museums remained open from dusk ‘til dawn. There was a modest upfront charge for a wristband that allowed unlimited access to all of the participating venues. Any of the Paris museums worth their salt were included on the list, so it would have felt foolish if she were to not go: the Louvre, Musée d'Orsay, the Centre Pompidou, the Arts and Metiers Museum, the Decorative Arts Museum, and the Palais de la Découverte were all possibilities.
Marinette was excited by the prospect of attending, although that would be with a post-date Adrien... so the possibilities for what that night might turn into was like dividing by zero. At least until Tuesday passed, Marinette could whip between gooseflesh and stomach cramps at the possibilities for Saturday night quicker than she could sew a seam.
Between watering planters and wrapping bouquets, Marinette noticed an uncharacteristically serious text from Adrien directed towards a tag-team of Alya and Nino insisting he give them a firm answer on La Nuit.
Adrien (1:56 PM):
Um, idk if I can. I want to, but Nathalie says there’s something on my schedule I don’t think I can get out of.
And now that it was on her mind, she did recall Adrien saying he wasn’t going to be available on Saturday. It explained why he kept getting off-topic, probably trying to avoid disappointing everyone. Marinette couldn’t blame him for that, even if she was saddened to think on it. She would probably still attend if Alya and Nino wanted to, since it was a one-night-opportunity, but she would definitely skip out on the reception and deal with the minor annoyance of third-wheeling.
After another thirty minutes, Marinette ate her lunch in the back office while going over her next purchase order. Tikki played the part of sympathetic audience.
“Ugh, these prices… How’s a girl supposed to eat?” She said, taking an entirely ironic bit from the lunch Maman had prepared for her. It was some sort of curried potatoes and rice creation.
Tikki frowned and settled into her shoulder, nibbling on her favorite variety of macron.
“Well, at least the need to order plenty means you’re doing good business, right?”
Marinette sighed and retrieved the “company” checkbook (it was just her parents, linked to the business account with their bank) and wrote out a figure with so many 0’s she actually had to double-check to make sure she hadn’t made an error.
“Yeah, I suppose… Maybe it’s a seasonal thing, but all of this?” Marinette pointed down at the catalog, finger tracing plastic planters and floral wire. “It’s annoying that they would inflate the price of necessities because they know we need them.”
Tikki giggled and adjusted her weight on Marinette’s shoulder. “Maybe Hawkmoth akumatized the factory workers. If there’s no flowers left in the city, what will draw ladybugs to Paris?”
The girl shook her head and chuckled. “Why didn’t I see it before? The answer was so obvious, Tikki!”
They shared a laugh and Marinette took another bite of her food, sealing the envelope and writing down the purchasing figure in the books. Hopefully this was the just the height of seasonal pricing, because they were barely breaking even with these sort of margins.
Just as she finished her food and took a long drink from a water bottle, the bell at the front chimed. Marinette could only check the messages on her phone and couldn’t get much utility from the device otherwise during business hours, so she opted to leave it with Tikki who could pass the time watching videos.
Marinette wiped her hands quickly on her apron and walked through the front of the store. A young gentleman, well-dressed and a few years her senior, had walked in looking very nervous. He eyed an assortment of bouquets wearily, and Marinette had to suppress the urge to laugh.
Mo would get a kick out of this.
If a man came to the store alone, Mo had warned her of three things.
“When M&M is at its end, when I go, you’ll need to be wary on your own! ...Yes, Marinette, I just rhymed, you can stop laughing now. I am but a poet who doesn’t even know it!”
Even in present day, Marinette rolled her eyes. Typical Mo.
“Young men - and nay, even some young women - will need your help with these purchases. They know nothing of the language of flowers, and they’ll be so blindsided by romance they won’t have the forethought to study up before coming to the store. If they are not purchasing for an apology or a date, then they may have a lustful eye for the unsuspecting female clerk, working the store alone. Don’t be afraid to use those muscles of yours to kick some sense into them, if you have to.”
Mo said he had an eye for that type, which Marinette frankly found to be a little ridiculous, but he would always insist on “helping” those clients so they might not make some sort of unwanted advance on her. It was actually very sweet how protective the old man had been, but she usually though he had a tendency for the dramatic.
Grinning, the bluenette strode across the counter and called his attention. “Bonjour. Can I help you?”
His face was conventionally handsome, a strong jaw with some dark five o’clock shadow that made him look a bit more mature. Glasses and brown eyes, darting and anxious, looked up at Marinette’s greeting.
“Oh, bonjour, Mlle. Um... actually, yeah, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure...” The customer turned his attention back towards the wide variety of bouquets Marinette had prepared, and she felt a little smug at having just finished restocking. It was a bit impressive to look at, especially for someone like this.
Marinette nodded and placed a hand at her hip, joining his study of the display. “Rather you did something wrong, or you’re aiming for a date. Right?”
There was a pause, and the man laughed in relief. “Wow, you’re good. Yeah, I… I’m trying to ‘impress’ someone.”
Marinette nodded, tapping her chin and keeping her eyes forward. That narrowed the possible list of appropriate bouquets, although it depended on what type of impression he was hoping to make.
“Well, if it’s a date,” Marinette mused, taking a step towards a cacophony of crimson, scarlet and ruby red buds that were easy to admire. “You might consider something classic. Roses are popular, of course, but…”
She gestured to another, softer and slightly fuller arrangement. “If you want something a little different, Hummingbird flowers are always a reliable, pretty pick.”
Marinette brushed the star shaped petals of the palest pink with her fingers, a delicate bunch accented by Baby’s Breath and White Diamond Limonium.
Roses were cheap to grow and they could sell them at a high mark-up, just by way of the demand. Fiscally, it probably would have made better sense to stick to upselling the former recommendation, but Marinette just will herself to make a sale based off money alone. There was soul within each stem, and some blossoms simply needed additional advertisement for people to appreciate their personalities.
“Hummingbirds?” The man croaked, and Marinette just nodded patiently.
“No, Hummingbird flowers. They’re technically called bouvardia. They’re simple, reall-- ”
The bell at the door interrupted her, so she quickly called a greeting before continuing.
“Bonjour! Just a moment, please! Sorry, but yes - bouvardia are really simple to care for, and they will keep for weeks. Just pop them in any vase and change the water every few days. They’re supposed to represent enthusiasm, and they have a…”
Her voice fizzled out, because a ringing in her ears didn’t stop. The bell was going off continuously, and it had picked up a rhythm.
Marinette turned to face the door, having caught a child playing with the bell to elicit such a sound before, but it turned out the chime was coming from someone much less predictable than a child.
“C-Chat Noir! Bonjour,” Marinette bowed her head, surprised to see him, and the customer turned with wide eyes.
Clasping his hands together, the young man bounced on his toes. “Wow! I-it’s… you! I’m a huge fan!”
The black cat, always one for a show, performed a theatrical bow while his tail swished around the middle aisle. “Ah, it’s always a pleasure to meet a fan! And in the most charming spot in all of Paris, no less.”
The gentleman beside Marinette practically floated over to Chat, and he vigorously took the heroes hand and shook. “I hate to ask - I’m sure you get this all the time, but could I get a selfie with you? My boyfriend wouldn’t believe me if I didn’t show him a photo!”
“Of course,” Chat accepted the man’s phone and they leaned in for a picture. “I actually happen to photograph rather well.”
Just after they snapped the shot, Chat caught Marinette’s eye, and the smug blond had the nerve to wink. Out of reflex, her head fell back on her shoulders, and she had to keep herself from hissing at him in annoyance.
“Yes, hello, Chat Noir. If you’re here for a purchase, I’d be happy to help you once I’m finished with this gentleman.”
“W-What?” The man clutched his phone to his chest, hugging the device like it was a lifeline. “No, please! Chat Noir, you go first. My thing isn’t important, it can wait!”
Chat Noir shook his head and smiled. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, the bell to the door rang again and Marinette thought seriously about throwing her hands up and quitting.
She fixed her face into a smile, certain that it was not convincing, and faced the door. “Bonjo-- …?”
There was no one there. Had the person stepped in and left immediately? It… had had happened before, though it struck her as odd.
Whatever the case, she could not complain. Chat’s presence alone certain to bring a tide of business crashing down Courtier St., so she needed to wrap things up.
Marinette stepped firmly towards the center of the store and gestured to young man who had begun texting furiously into his phone. “I’m sorry, sir, but I insist. Chat Noir is a hero of Paris, but in this store, he’s also a customer. You were here first, and I’ll assist him once we’ve made a choice for you.”
Behind the young man’s glasses, he blinked repeatedly and looked between the hero and Marinette like she had just started speaking Yiddish. It wasn’t until Chat nodded him to go that she was able to finish the sale, and thankfully, it had been quick thereafter. He seemed so starstruck that Marinette didn’t even have the chance to finish her explanation of Hummingbird flowers before he hastily accepted and passed her a shiny credit card.
“Wow, who would’ve thought? I’m here for flowers and bam! Chat Noir. This is such an amazing day!” He whispered across the counter to Marinette, who just smiled politely and passed him his receipt and requested a signature.
It really shouldn’t have struck her as a a surprise, as Chat Noir came frequently, but Marinette had gotten used to seeing him in the evening after the past week. Him coming here during the day while she drowned in work seemed comparatively frustrating, but Marinette kept her voice kind all the way until the man left the store (only after he stopped to shake Chat Noir’s hand two more times, of course).
Even so, Marinette had nothing but positivity to offer today, grinning at the alley cat who had folded his hands neatly behind his back.
“Hi, Marinette.” Chat said once they were alone, and she raised a brow at him. The cat must’ve hit his head or was actively hiding something, because the look he was giving her was filled with unusual admiration.
“Hello, minou,” Marinette smiled as she returned to the counter. Chat respectfully remained on the other side, though he did walk rather close behind her.
Sticking her tongue out, Marinette broke through his intense stare when they both laughed. “What brings you by today?”
“Ah, right meow? I was simply in the neighborhood and thought you might want some company of the kitten variety.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows, and Marinette just slapped a palm into her face.
With a good-humored sigh, she picked up some papers and began to make a few notes. “I’m so flattered, Chat, you have no idea. How could I ever thank you?”
“Oh I’ve got a few ideas, Puur-incess. Especially now that I know you sneak boys into your room.” His voice was riddled with suggestiveness, but it was clearly sarcastic. Marinette just shook her head and giggled.
Chat seemed to notice her exuberance and commented, “Well, isn’t your cat-titude just meow-valous today? Even my puns seem ineffective!”
Marinette just exhaled brightly and met his gaze. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I happen to be in a very great mood.”
“Oh? Do tell!” The black-suited hero leaned his elbows on the counter, coming closer in interest.
Her face flushed, but she did not look away. “Well, that friend I was telling you about… They came back, and…”
She stopped mid-sentence, interrupted yet again by the ever-present bell that called her attention, and Chat straightened when she glanced over his shoulder.
There was no one there.
“Again?” Marinette pursed her lips in annoyance, walking around the counter and coming to the door.
Chat stayed a pace behind her, watching her examination of the doorknob. “Is something wrong?”
“I think there’s something broken… with the… um…”
Marinette’s voice trailed off, but not, for once, due to lack of the right words or a sputtering confidence. Instead, her attention had been caught by some unusual activity beyond the glass walls. Instead of a typical flow of passing couples, groups of friends, or parents and their children, the predictable midday ambiance of Paris had been unsettled.
“Something’s happening,” Marinette whispered, voice suddenly urgent. Chat scowled and moved right up to the window, standing so close she could feel the smooth exterior of his suit as he looked into the road.
Indeed, people were no longer passing along peacefully, a steady tide of leisure down the sidewalks. No, the current had picked up, and a wind was blowing ever East, loud and panicked. People were screaming, and running, and clutching their loved ones.
Chat clenched his jaw. “An akuma.”
Marinette tried for a playful smirk. “I suppose it was inevitable, wasn’t it?”
He pursed his lips, and the witty joke that Marinette expected didn’t come. Instead, Chat Noir turned to her and put a hand on each of her shoulders.
“Go hide, Princess.” The sharpness of his tone surprised her. “Please.”
“Umm…” she felt his hands squeeze her slightly. “O-okay, Chat Noir. Be careful.”
The promise of her safety must have been enough to undo whatever had rattled him, because his smile turned huge and he stepped away, bowing low.
“But of course, I’m paw-sitive things will be just f-el-ine.”
Marinette rolled her eyes while the cat hopped away, the only force of nature moving against the clamor of people fleeing the source of danger.
Wistful, Marinette watched him go, worried again. Was he okay?
“Marinette!” Tikki chimed, flying a few inches in front of her. At what point her kwami had come to the front of the store, the girl had no idea. “Aren’t we going?”
“O-oh, right!” She nodded seriously. “Let me go out the back…”
As quickly as she could manage, Marinette locked the front door and ran through the exit on the southern side of the building. Thankfully, everyone in this part of town had already fled or found refuge indoors, so it seemed safe enough to transform.
Marinette met eyes with her kwami, and the two shared a fierce nod. “Tikki, spots on!”
In a flash, a strength flowered from her core as red spandex fit to her like a second skin. Clarity and focus settled in her mind with ease, and with a contented sigh, Ladybug stepped out into the courtyard.
“Alright, let’s do this!” Ladybug said, mostly to get herself to get in the right headspace for a fight. It’s been weeks, and taking to the rooftops with her yo-yo in hand felt invigorating.
Back-tracking slightly so no one might see her depart directly from the flower shop, she ultimately headed towards the center of town. Ladybug made quick work of a few miles when the magical device in her outstretched hand began to buzz.
Finding a building to stop upon, Ladybug flipped open the screen, listening for disturbances or ambushes all the while.
“Chat Noir,” Ladybug nodded severely in greeting into the screen. The black cat grinned sheepishly, and she had to stop herself from laughing.
“Do I even want to know why you’re soaking wet?”
“Well, you see Bugaboo, it all started this morning when I -- “
“Mon chaton,” Ladybug said pointedly, raising her eyebrows at him. He shook himself off slightly like a drenched animal, and his hair seemed puffier as a result.
He kept his grin just as wide. “I’m afraid things are a bit fishy down by City Hall.”
“Fishy?”
Chat shrugged. “You’ll see. I’ll keep ‘em distracted for you, Bugaboo.” He sang her nickname and blew her a kiss.
Ladybug merely shook her head, flipping the screen closed. “That cat, sometimes…”
Setting a course towards her partner’s location, the heroine moved as a flash of red along the Parisian skyline. The roads were quiet in their vacancy, and it was always one of the worst parts of battling an akuma. People abandoned the streets and sucked the life from the city itself; it sounded of death and reminded her of absence, neither of which were conditions she yearned after.
Once City Hall was in sight, Ladybug quickly came to understand Chat’s meaning. The nearer she moved to the scene, the more that awful, odorous waves reeking of fish wafted to meet her. Even as a civilian, Ladybug was not the biggest fan of seafood, and this wasn’t the smell of a roasted salmon or freshly prepared sushi. It smelled like of salt and seawater, musky and dark and totally unpleasant. Vaguely, she recalled someone telling her once that olfactory experiences are more poignant than any other sensory memory; Ladybug could only hope that was hyperbolic, because this smell would surely haunt her forever.
“What the…” Ladybug muttered, covering her mouth and nose, trying in vain trying to block some of the oceanic air from making her dizzy. At the cusp of a large building looking over the city square, she looked down into the streets to find a torrent of… money? Coins, bills, and currency of every kind spilled into the streets, so high it covered some smaller buildings entirely. It was like a flood of cash sprang from City Hall and was rushing down the streets, a broken dam that began to submerge the city beneath the weight of wealth.
Baffled, Ladybug wondered aloud (through a compressed, nasally voice). “What kind of akuma is this?”
“Beats me,” answered a familiar call. She turned and spotted Chat Noir, retracting his baton and finding his footing. By the looks of it, he must have just vaulted to the top of the building himself.
“You weren’t kidding when you said it was fishy, mon chaton… ugh, this is terrible.” Ladybug replied, scowling and scanning the world below in vain, searching for some source of the chaos.
“Really?” He seemed amused. “Maybe it’s the whole, cat-like-instincts thing, but I think it’s actually rather nice.”
“Bleh,” Ladybug stuck her tongue out, and her partner snickered at her expense.
Stretching his arms, Chat moved to the buildings’ edge and crouched down. The streets were still filling with money, a sea of metal and paper growing taller in the center of the square and spreading further down each side street.
“Looks like we don’t have anytime to waste, unless we want to be sleeping with the fishies,” he commented, almost sounding annoyed. Ladybug sighed, and they met eyes. She gave the cat an approving smile.
“Well, kitty, this seems like your specialty. It looks like it’s all centralized around City Hall, so we best start there.” Chat’s ears perked, and Ladybug’s grinned widened. “Shall we go akuma fishing?”
Chat stood and spun in a fluid movement, facing her after a full rotation and bowing. “It would be a pleasure, Bugaboo.”
Leading the way, Ladybug swung her yo-yo far and aimed high, not particularly interested in falling into the flood of currency - the smell seemed to come from the rising tides, and frankly, she was glad to have nothing to do with it. The catching wind while she leapt closer to the building actually helped to wick some of the odor from the air surrounding her face, but when she landed deftly on the roof of the building, it grew even worse. The gentle thud of Chat Noir landed beside her, and his voice was immediately alarmed.
“L-Ladybug! Are you okay?” He gripped her shoulders. “Why are you crying?”
She groaned and patted his hold, using the knuckles of her other hand to brush away the sudden tears.
“I’m just fine, thank you for the concern Chat. It’s the smell, my eyes are just watering. Ugh.” Setting her jaw, she tried to indicate finality with her tone, and thankfully Chat Noir drew back.
“Hmm,” Chat tapped his chin and walked to study some of the skylight windows. “If you don’t think you’ll be able to breathe, don’t be afraid to fall back, okay? Maybe we can draw the akuma out away from the, uh,” he paused, looking over the side of the building at the growing pile of cash. “Ocean?”
Ladybug huffed and squared her shoulders. “You might be right, but let’s see if we can’t figure out what’s going on first.” She had to blink through some latent wetness while investigating the glass beside Chat Noir.
“It doesn’t look like there’s - oh, well,” Chat was about to state the obvious - that there wasn’t anyone inside - but his claim would have become immediately false. The door to the mayor’s office burst open, and so far as they could see, all of the inner sanctums of the building remained entirely vacant of money.
Stepping out from the office and cackling wildly, a larger-than-life man stepped through the doorway (just barely fitting) and dragged a large net behind him. In some weird way, Ladybug was reminded of Santa Claus, but only if the jolly man of Christmas carols had jaundice and turned mad.
The man sported a bright, almost insultingly yellow, coat with matching hat and boots that covered almost his entire body. A few inches between the bottom of the coat and the top of the boots exposed gray tattered clothes beneath, and even the man’s face was largely obscured by a bushy grey-white beard. Striking against the his drab appearance, his eyes were gruesome - one, large and blown from glass, matched by a scar from lid to cheek, and the other was gray as an overcast sky. What little of his face was visible and not disfigured appeared papery and tough, and he must have been getting up there in age.
Thrown over his shoulder, adding to the illusion of a deranged Kristopher Kringle, the man gripped a net at least double his size. Large and black woven wire crossed over itself into what must have been some sort of fisherman’s net; it was the only part of his get-up that seemed a clear candidate for the akuma to hide.
Ladybug grimaced when she realized the net was not empty.
“He’s got the mayor,” Chat commented, almost as casually as if he were remarking on the weather. With a glance over the streets, Ladybug noted the rising rate of the strange paper and metal sea, and snapped her fingers.
“Ah. The treasury is in this building. That’s probably where the money is coming from, and I think it’s below ground.”
Chat nodded, already understanding her meaning.
“I’ll stop the flood,” he offered.
She smiled. “And I’ll try to get the net away from ol’ greybeard.”
With a quick nod, she watched Chat dive from the building into the “water” with surprising grace. The sound of his body hitting a conglomerate of metal, however, did not sound at all pleasant.
“It probably doesn’t tread like water,” Ladybug yelled down to him through cupped hands. She giggled as Chat massaged his backside, more crawling than swimming towards the bit of the entrance that was still visible.
He called back to her. “That would have been helpful about 10 seconds ago!”
Allowing herself a little laugh, the red heroine readjusted her shoulders and faced the window again. The akumatized victim was shouting something nonsensical to the mayor, who was quivering under the net. She needed to act quickly before things escalated into some sort of hostage situation.
The windows on the roof did not have any visible locking mechanisms, so Ladybug shrugged and kicked through the glass, leaping to the marble tiles effortlessly.
“Let him go!” She demanded as the yellow-coated man turned to face her, and much to her surprise, he dragged the mayor’s weight with his turn.
The moment of recognition came too slow, though, and Mayor Bourgeois slammed into her and knocked her back into a pillar.
“Ladybug!” He cried, seemingly uninjured though he had just been used as a weapon.
Groaning, she blinked a few times and tried to ignore the several tender spots where rock had met her back muscles, and took another, more prepared stance across the hall outside the mayor’s office.
A different approach, she held her yo-yo at the ready. “What do you want?”
“Fair trade in the state of France!” He shouted automatically, adjusting the net at his shoulder. “And I, the Pêcheur, ain’t going to let some bug get in the way of what the hardworkin’ people of France deserve!”
Ladybug dropped and rolled away from the swing of the net she knew was coming, the threat evident behind his words. Not a moment too soon, as a loud crunching sound left a crater against the wall where she had just been standing. Maybe the net wasn’t hiding the akuma after all? It seemed really careless to swing around the object she needed to destroy so recklessly.
“The people of France don’t want violence, Fisherman, I can assure you that.” Ladybug replied calmly, standing and gripping her yo-yo. If not the net, than what?
The hat? Maybe… It still didn’t feel right, though.
“Oh I don’t know,” he said, cackling and swinging the mayor like a ragdoll. Ladybug winced, glad whatever magic kept Mayor Bourgeois in the net equally seemed to stop him from getting hurt. Still, he was a civilian, so she needed to get him out of here as quickly as possible. With a hasty scan of her surroundings, Ladybug noticed an elevator at one end of the hall.
“The people of France welcomed a revolution filled with violence, or did you forget, Little Miss?”
Backpedaling down the length of the corridor, Ladybug tried to keep Pêcheur far enough away that he would have to release his net to swing it at her, but near enough that he kept in pursuit. Just a little further…
“That’s true, but times have changed, Fisherman!” Ladybug took a threatening posture with her weapon in one hand, her other hand seeking the elevator button. “You can’t expect the people of Paris to--”
She stopped when the lift behind her dinged lightly, and she reared back with her yo-yo ready to send it spiraling around his ankles. In retaliation, Pêcheur roared furiously and whipped his net around, swinging it at her with barbaric force.
Perfect.
Like pretending to throw a dog a bone, she kept a close hold on her yo-yo, leaping over the net as it swept at her. Instead, she flung the trusty weapon at the man’s forearm that had a hold on the mayor. With a cry of pain, he dropped the net just in front of the elevator, and gravity did the rest.
She fell to the earth just inches in front of Mayor Bourgeois and quickly dragged him backwards before the elevator closed.
An angry wallop could be heard against the metal doors, but she had been just fast enough to complete the getaway. Immediately, Ladybug began to unravel a whimpering Mayor Bourgeois.
“Mayor! Are you alright?”
He was shaking, but appeared unharmed. “Y-yes, Ladybug. Thank you! I feel t-terrible about this…”
Ladybug noted a pleasant beep above their heads; they entered on the third floor, and she had her sights on the basement.
“Do you know what happened? Who is Pêcheur?”
Mayor Bourgeois made a face. “Well, he’s a fisherman.”
“... Yes, thank you, Mayor. And?” It was difficult to keep the irritation from her voice as she lifted the last bit of net above his head.
Another beep.
One more floor.
“He came to my office with a proposed bill to reduce the state tariffs on exporting fish, but that is something politically way above my head. I’m just a mayor! When I refused to bring his concern to my compatriots at the Assemblée nationale, he screamed about earning his livelihood at sea and stormed from my office.” The man completed his explanation as Ladybug helped him stand. Once he was steady, she reared an arm high in the air and used her foot as a counterbalance, tearing the net wide.
No butterflies here.
As if on cue, the final ding sounded in time with Ladybug’s sigh and the doors opened.
The horrible, repugnant scent of dead fish flared in her throat, and the mayor covered his mouth to stop from throwing up. A small influx of money spilled around their ankles, but it wasn’t surging as it once had.
“Why, there you are Bugaboo,” Chat called nonchalantly straight across from them, using his bodyweight to keep a large bank-style safe closed. It was clearly giving under the stress of compounding currency within, but his barricade had stayed the madness temporarily.
He shifted when a particularly horrendous metal creaking sound went off behind him. It was clear the door was going to give soon.
“I hate to be a burden, but purr-haps you could lend this poor cat a hand?”
Ladybug helped the mayor wade through the mess to the stairs, and thankfully Chat had mostly cleared a path on his way inside. “Mayor, find any room to hide it. It’s too dangerous in the streets with all of this in the way,” she gestured at the mess at their feet. He quickly nodded and thanked her again before sputtering and slipping his way up the stairs.
In a flash, Ladybug flew across the remainder of the room and, with their  combined strength, managed to better stabilize the door.
“Okay, minou, got any ideas? Where’s the money even coming from?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” he said, the strain clear in his voice. “It doesn’t seem to be coming from anywhere. It’s just seeping through the ceiling in there. Like rain, almost.”
“Rain?” Ladybug glanced down. “And you were wet earlier, weren’t you?”
Chat scowled. “It wasn’t my fault, I was helping someone in a car that got turned over and some people running by were soaking wet.”
She frowned, brow drawn together as she looked at her feet. “Maybe this isn’t just like water. Maybe it is water, Chat. That explains why its able to sort of swish and move on its own, and there’s no way he could have an endless supply --”
The cat yelped as the door started to give a bit, and he hastily replied. “Yes, sure, great - your logic is amazing and you’re amazing, blah blah, but maybe we should get out of here?”
“Ugh,” Ladybug groaned, exerting even more force as the door started to buckle. “We need a plan first. If one of us lets go, the metal won’t hold.”
Ears perked, Chat Noir turned to her with a grin. “Wait a meow-ment! I have an idea! Just hold the door for one second, and um..well, actually...” His smile flickered and faded.
“Well?!” Ladybug shook her head, eyes bulging. “What are you waiting for? What is it!?”
“Umm, you’ll have to, uh, spread your… legs” he muttered. Frankly, she didn’t care about boundaries and all that - Chat clearly was not understanding the urgency of the situation.
“Okay! Okay, sure, just do whatever you have to!”
Chat frowned at her for a moment, as if surprised she trusted him so completely, but his focus came back with another groan of the metal.
His tone was hard. “Okay, hold the door.”
Under her breath, Ladybug muttered a quick retort through grit teeth. “Yeah, like I have much of a choice.”
Chat Noir moved directly in front of her, crouched down and drew his weight back. “Cataclysm!”
He aimed a hand, miasmatic and deadly, at the spot where the metal barrier met the ground, just between her feet, and the floor began to quake.
With his other arm, Chat wrapped a deft hand around her waist and extended his baton forward into the metal, just as the hinges began to snap, and drove them back into the elevator.
He smashed the button closed the moment they were inside. The door dented under the crushing weight of coins, but they were unscathed.
Ladybug heaved for air, crisp and sharp against her windpipe as they stood in the strangely quiet elevator. Beside her, Chat rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.
“S-Sorry, that was close.” He glanced at their feet, noticing some netting caught in the small collection of coins and paper below. “I take it the akuma wasn’t in the net?”
Still breathless from exertion, she merely shook her head and glanced up at Chat. The moment they met eyes, his ring beeped twice.
“Ah…” he pressed his lips together and eyed his right hand in annoyance. “Well, any ideas?”
“I think…” she began, looking at the ceiling. “I think the guy isn’t going to leave the building. At some point, he’ll demand our miraculous, and we’re already here. More importantly, he said he wants to change the laws, I guess.”
Chat Noir snorted and ran a hand down his face. “They have like, petitions for that, right? Did getting akumatized seem like the most logical solution?”
His ring beeped again.
Ladybug was only half-listening, and she lifted herself up using the wall to support her weight, pushing through the latch in the ceiling. He didn’t need directions to know they were going up, the long way.
Once situated in the dark vertical tunnel, she squinted upwards and addressed Chat’s earlier question. “Yes, but, this man felt wronged, or cheated from what I gathered. He called himself the Pêcheur. The Mayor refused to help him… and he was talking about ‘the hardworking French people’. The smell, the ‘ocean’ of money, his outfit...”
A little more quietly, Chat reached the same conclusion she had earlier. “Ahh… A fisherman who wanted to improve wages or something to that effect, wronged by the Bourgeois. Literally, probably.”
She nodded, to which Chat added, “But what is he hoping to do?”
Another beep.
Ladybug just shook her head as she unsheathed her yo-yo, spinning it before grappling to the floor she had last seen him. “I have no idea, but we’ve got to stop it before things get more out of control. Your ‘second basement’ bought us some time, but Paris is going to flood if we don’t do something.
“It’s almost like the city is under-funded, am I right, Bugaboo?”
Chat had his baton ready, but Ladybug lifted a hand to stop him.
“You should stay here, you’re about to detransform. I’ll go after Pêcheur, and you recharge. Okay?”
She could tell, even in the low-light, his ears drooped slightly. The hard truth came in the form of his final beep, warning them of only sixty more seconds until he would revert to civilian form.
“I’ve got some food on me, so I’ll be able to catch up with you soon.” Chat offered, and Ladybug gave him a quick two-fingered salute.
“Bug out for now, mon chaton.”
--
The sound of hastily typing thumbs and a gorging kwami were the only things to break the silence for several minutes.
It was a little unnerving, sitting cross-legged at the bottom of a dark elevator shaft, waiting patiently for time to catch up to need. It was some sort of poetic pseudo-marketplace dealing in minutes and cheese, patience and fortune. Still, the quiet was peaceful, but it stirred a fear in his stomach.
Was Ladybug okay?
And another, newer worry found dominion beside that familiar fear.
Was Marinette okay?
Digitally speaking, things had spiraled out of control. Providing live updates to the Ladyblog, Alya was wading the sea (and probably earning herself some serious bruises along the way) while Nino had texted the group in clear panic, trying to get her to move inside or at least seek higher ground.
Marinette had not messaged any of them, which was disconcerting.
Adrien pulled up the blog in spite of himself, knowing his compliance was sort of encouraging Alya’s dangerous behavior, but it was an undeniably useful source of information when away from the throes of the fight.
The livestream was turning from selfie mode to photoview, and he cringed at the quick glimpse of Alya sauntering waist-deep towards the center of the city.
“Alright Ladybloggers, looks like there’s a change of scenery going on. Ladybug just appeared outside the building, and by the looks of it, no Chat Noir in sight.”
Scowling, Adrien and Plagg met eyes.
“The man calling himself Pêcheur,” Alya continued, oblivious to mutual annoyance of her audience in the elevator shaft. “Seems to be able to manipulate money, and he’s using the change to -- whoooaa,” Alya wavered and nearly dropped her camera, and the broadcast jostled disorientingly.
“We are in deep water now, folks, and that’s not a Chat Noir signature pun,” she shouted, and true to her word, the semi-calm mountains of cash had turned back to a freshet of angry ocean, literal water pouring into the city streets and sweeping Alya out and away with the deluge. His “second basement” must have bottomed out.
Adrien’s heart went out to Nino; at least Marinette had enough sense to stay inside.
“Okay folks, we need to seek higher ground. We couldn’t get close enough to hear the akuma’s threats, but there’s no denying one thing: he can control the water, and it can change to… well, change, apparently, by his whim. Stay safe everyone!”
She stopped the livestream, and Adrien couldn’t decide if it was appropriate to laugh or sigh. The girl was about as brave as Ladybug herself, but without the supersuit. In another life, she would have made a great superhero.
“Alright kid,” Plagg chewed his last piece of camambert and swallowed. “I’m ready when you are!”
Adrien stood quickly, his gaze fierce.
“Plagg, claws out!”
As easily as breathing, black leather encased his right arm and branched to his left, down his torso and hugging his body. Running a hand across his hair, familiar ears fit to his blond tresses and Chat Noir shook the familiar resurgence of power through his muscles.
“Round two.” He declared quietly, readying his baton to vault through the building, after Ladybug and the akuma.
Chat managed to trace after without issue, following the sounds of battle raging above his head. A clear hole had shattered a glass window, and the jagged edges offered droplets of water near the middle of the hallway. Unable to cling against their own gravity, the droplets turned to metal with a tiny shing each time another drop loosened and hit the marble floors.
Hmm. So LB and Alya were right. He turns water to money.
“But where is he even getting the water?” Chat wondered aloud, glaring at the ceiling.
A rush of red flew backwards across his line of sight, propelled by a gush of liquid that sounded hard and metallic upon impact.
He watched the Fisherman saunter forward, after what had clearly been an injured Ladybug. Chat waited just until the man crossed over the opening before vaulting himself on the roof.
“Hey now!” Chat taunted, twirling his baton upon landing. “Don’t you know that fish keep their money at the riverbank, Mounseir Pêcheur?”
Grinning, he paused to leap away from a second crashing wave of bills, rolling and landing on one knee. “C’mon, if you’re a Fisherman, surely you can catch me?”
Another rush of money snapped in his direction from over the side of the building, near enough that Chat felt the light tickle of passing air besides his ear.
The more Chat baited, the more the man fumed and rage, and the blond hero rather enjoyed watching the Fisherman’s face turn red beneath his yellow suit. It was clear, unbridled fury, and it was turning him reckless.
“Why are so crabby, anyways?” Chat mewled in time with the rising tides, the sound rapturous as metal smashed into concrete and plaster walls. Coins rained from above with the jostling movements, flying upwards only to smack against the top of his head. Chat hissed, more in annoyance than in pain.
Still, the Fisherman looked too ensorcelled to do much else than storm senselessly after the black cat. Not a single intelligible word passed through the man’s cracked lips, and of course, Chat Noir was never one to pass up a joke.
“What, cat got your tongue?”
In a furious roar, Pêcheur raised his arms high in the air and the sea moved with him, punching a hole straight through the roof with brute force.
Chat barely managed to backflip away from the assault, but it seemed Pêcheur had been hoping for that. He had driven Chat rather close to the edge of City Hall’s rooftop, and the hero barely managed to stay upright, thanking Plagg for his enhanced reflexes. Below, choppy tides and dangerous currents called up to him in a manmade monsoon.
“Heh, well, looks like you, uh, caught me?” Chat shrugged, and blessed be, Ladybug had regained her wits and he watched as the string of her yo-yo snaked around the Fisherman’s ankle just as he reared up for another attack.
A fierce shout garnered Chat’s attention while the man went sprawling.
“The akuma are the papers in his coat! It’s in his front pocket!”
Nimbly, Chat prowled forward and rolled the man over with his foot, ducking down to follow Ladybug’s directive. As he did, a massive shadow cast along the roof at his back, winking the sun out of existence. His ears were pitched to two sounds: one, of rustling paper and rising winds, and the other, a voice.
“Chat Noir! Look out!”
He had only time to cover his face before much more than just the sun was eclipsed - his whole body was smashed by waves of pain. Every muscle twisted and flared against sharp edges of coins and paper, crushing him beneath sheer weight alone. It was like getting smacked by a metal mallet, over every inch of his body, all at once.
“Lucky Charm!”
Oh thank god, Chat thought through grit teeth. It was disorienting, a rush of sensations that were fueled mostly by discomfort, shoving and dragging by invisible hands. The force of the hit had knocked him clean off the roof, and it was clear that the man was trying to drown him in a sea of greed.
A much different, sudden flare of pain made Chat wince, but this was neither a compression of coin or the twisting of substance pelting into his body again and again. It wasn’t the same light paper cuts that marked his cheeks and nose. This was tight and sharp, like someone was trying to pop his shoulder out of place.
Before he knew what was up from down, Chat Noir was airborne again.
He blinked several times, even more confused by his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was he had been freed of his alloy-bound tomb. The world was inverted, the fringe that usually rested along his face hanging down and away from his forehead, brushing into his sort-of-but-not-really cat ears. A definitely upside down and cute red heroine frowned at him- or was she grinning? - and raised an eyebrow in bemused appraisal.
“Hello, mon chaton,” teased Ladybug. “Can I borrow your baton?”
“Oh I suppose, it’s not like I’m using it, given that I’m just hanging around,” he grinned, though not without clenching his jaw through some of the latent soreness from his earlier battery. Chat reached for the trusted tool at his lower back and offered it to her.
Ladybug rolled her eyes and accepted his baton, only to let him go and crumple on the roof of what he figured to be a tall neighboring building. She had rigged some sort of pulley to bring him out of the crushing sea with her yo-yo and a large antenna. In her other hand, she held a comically huge polka-dot cutout of the mayor.
By now, the “water” had completely covered most of the square, and City Hall was immersed.
“Hmm, and where did our fishy friend go?” Chat asked as he rubbed the strain from his arms and shoulders.
Beside him, Ladybug pursed her lips while tieing one end of his baton and her yo-yo together, keeping the disc of her weapon dangling from the end. “He’s under the, uh, money somewhere. But I thought we might go back to our original plan.”
Chat watched her movements with interest, and Ladybug tested out his baton, extending it slowly.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
She smiled widely. “I thought we could try akuma fishing.”
And with no problem at all, she cast out their weapons into a makeshift fishing pole, far into the square with the cut-out of the mayor secured to one end. Her yo-yo stuck out above the choppy waves, a red sinker in the middle of a brown, silver and bronze mess of wealth.
Several seconds passed of silence, and Chat eventually offered, “Just like that?”
“Yep. Now we wait,” Ladybug offered simply, and Chat frowned when her earrings beeped.
“You sure about this?” He crossed his arms nervously, eyes scanning a jingling ocean.
That caused her to laugh, and it was a bubbly, infectious sound. Chat smiled.
“Of course, mon chaton. My lucky charm has never failed us before.”
“Well,” he shuffled his feet before deciding to sit down onto the roof beside her, boots almost grazing the top of the bristling body of money below. “I guess that’s true. This was a strange akuma, LB.”
After a pause, Ladybug replied. “Yes. It definitely was. I feel bad for the old man, he really seemed to just want a better life for himself and other fishermen.”
Another beep.
“I don’t think anyone can fault him that,” Chat responded, and they both fell quiet and watched the chaos start to calm. He must be close and spotted the bait.
Ladybug was going to change back in just another few minutes, and still the akuma hadn’t appeared. Even if they did manage to defeat it in time, it was sort of a shame. It had been awhile since he’d seen his partner, and Chat admittedly missed her company. Ladybug was one of his best friends, and… well, given the nature of their relationship, he felt like he should tell her about his recent interest in someone else. It’s not like it mattered really, but he loved Ladybug in the sort of way you would only with someone you’ve nearly died for, and who has nearly died for you.
With the recent luck he’s had as Adrien, Chat felt it was the sort of good news he could share with her and that she might want to know about. Even if he wouldn’t be able to refer to Marinette by name, it was something so new and pure that made him happy it was almost like lying to not talk about her. A lie of omission, almost.
Again, Ladybug’s earrings beeped, and Chat fidgeted uncomfortably.  “So… how are you?”
She blinked down at him, brow drawn together. “What?”
Rubbing his neck, Chat clarified. “Well, you know, it’s been a little while and…”
A horrible grinding sound caused them both to jump, and Chat sprang to his feet while Ladybug returned her focus forward. The baton was starting to bend under a sudden weight, and a swishing release of Ladybug’s “line” began zipping loudly over the water.
“This is it!” She said, but the sudden intensity of Pêcheur’s grip at the other end was starting to pull her over the building’s edge. Without a second thought, Chat situated himself behind her and wrapped his arms around the baton as well, using their combined strength and weight to doubleback against the line, and he cringed at the sound of beeping just beneath his head.
“Ladybug! You only two minutes left!” He managed, grinding his molars.
“It’s okay. I’ve got this,” she spoke confidently, and quick tug his baton began to retract in, dragging the akuma’s weight along with it.
Of course, just as Ladybug said, the rest was simple. Pêcheur’s body had gotten tied up in the wire of her yo-yo, unable to escape though he thrashed like a fish just caught from the ocean. Quicker than they ever had before, Chat leapt up, snatched the akuma and threw it down to his partner, and she quickly ripped the papers to shreds.
Ladybug bid the luminescent, glowing akuma farewell, and stayed only long enough to offer Chat her fist.
“Pound it!” She smiled before, in perfect Ladybug fashion, bugging out in the other direction.
Sighing contently, he watched her go from the rooftops, looking down into the center of Paris with satisfaction. Another successful battle, and Chat watched as the people began to return to their wares, ducking out from buildings hesitantly.
With some gentle reassurances, Chat helped escort the akumatized victim to the medical professionals, and he caught the tailend of a conversation between the man and Mayor Bourgeois.
“I really do apologize, Monseiur Naser. I’ll at least see if I can take it to my colleagues, but I do not know how much power I will have.”
“T-thank you, Mayor. I appreciate you even trying to make a change.”
Chat sighed and removed himself as politely as possible from the crowds, trying to disengage from the probes about Ladybug’s whereabouts or his take on the recent dry spell of akumas. Of course, he did his best to answer vaguely but kindly, and thanks to Ladybug’s power any of the pain or soreness from his body had been wicked away.
Paris had been defended, but that didn’t mean he felt his job was done. Chat still had someone waiting for him, halfway across town, but what had been intended as a short break between shooting for the new Gabriel ad had been totally sucked up in the attack. Once again, responsibility got in the way of seeing Marinette, and it had only been so fleeting. Chat did not want to jeopardize the recent headway he had made with his relationship with his father, so he was resigned to return to his civilian life.
Chat Noir took to the sky and his feet only touched the tops of buildings long enough to propel him into the air again, preferring the open wind to the chains of gravity that would return him to himself soon.
Carefully, he slipped into an alley behind the studio he was expected in and spoke three familiar words.
“Plagg, claws in.”
Adrien held his palms out carefully, and his black kwami settled himself comfortably against his chosen’s fingers. Unfortunately, Adrien had only brought cheese enough for one detransformation, and Plagg knew as much.
Grumbling, the kwami curled in on himself, much like the creature that gave Chat Noir his namesake. “If ya can gets me something with some cheese in it, I’ll forgive you... this time.”
Adrien smiled. “There’s a snack table in the back. It’s not camembert, but I’m pretty sure they have some cheeses.”
At that, Plagg mustered enough energy to float into the front pocket of Adrien’s jacket, urging him on towards the dressing rooms.
Adrien stopped in the middle of the hallway, spotting some floral arrangement with a flower he actually recognized. It was part of one of the “sets” for the shoot, he assumed, as it was complex and larger than life. This had been the first time he had been able to utilize Marinette’s lessons in all things floral outside of the shop, and the recognition caused his heart to skip a beat.
He wasn’t sure what came over him, and Plagg certainly did not understand why Adrien felt the urge to stop in the middle of his Holy Grail quest with cheese at the helm, but in a quick motion the blond had his phone in his hands and was snapping a picture of the flowers.
Adrien (3:01 PM):
I’m at a shoot today. I saw these and I thought of you. :)
The only disappointing thing was that he knew it wasn’t a Dupain-Cheng product - those were easy to spot. With each delivery he had seen Marinette prepare, rather as Chat Noir or as Adrien, he always noticed the tag she would attached to the outside somewhere with care; a handwritten note thanking each customer for their business.
“I’m dying, Adrien,” Plagg called dramatically, turning over inside his jacket. “I’ll never be able to help you fight another akuma again, or sneak into your girlfriend’s room late at night.”
Hastily, the teen shoved his phone back in his jeans and made a beeline for the snack table, shoving enough cheese into his jacket to satiate a fully grown human.
Adrien took off his coat in the dressing room and left Plagg to his disturbing feasting rituals, staying only long enough to grab his phone and take it out to the set with him.
Marinette (3:08 PM):
What a coincidence!! I just sold some of those earlier today! They’re (bouvardia) Hummingbird flowers. Sorta like those latanas you sold the other day. :D
Marinette (3:08 PM)
Although Mme. Kleinstein probably would’ve bought anything from you with those freakin puns.
He grinned, walking down the hall. Adrien wasted no time writing back, stopping just shy of the shooting area so he could finish his message.
Adrien (3:09 PM):
That was the best sale the store has ever made and you know it! I gtg, we’re about to start again - but I thought they were pretty and knew you would appreciate them.
“Aye! There you are!” The photographer called, snapping her fingers aggressively halfway across the room.
“S-Sorry,” Adrien stammered as he slipped his phone into his jeans, but the woman simply glared suspiciously before turning her attention back to fixing her camera.
Around the studio, clusters of people moved around in preparation. Set designers, wardrobe, make-up, photographers and aids, Nathalie, magazine editors and people with clipboards all fluttered about, busying themselves with this-or-that. You wouldn’t even know the whole city hadn’t been under siege not twenty minutes ago.
Adrien hadn’t much time to think about it before he was swept up in the din, being shuffled back into his next outfit and having hands poking and prodding around his body. It felt annoyingly like the sensation of getting smashed by a tidal wave of change, just a little less sharp.
Still, he was thankful that most of his shots today were ones requiring happy poses. With recent events, that posture came naturally and his smile felt less forced. The photographers commented on his unusually but refreshingly chipper attitude, and he could only blush when Nathalie mentioned off-handedly that he had a date tomorrow night.
It was true, and it’s not like he was ashamed of it.
Between shots, different people would whisper to him about it, and he tried to just brush it off with the same answer.
“I’m excited! Just a little nervous.”
For whatever reason, it turned out that had been the wrong thing for Adrien to say. Several of the adults took his honesty as an opportunity to grant him all sorts of unsolicited advice and to offer tips from their wide experiences dating.
Adrien knew most of these people moderately well - business acquaintances, he would probably label them. Some were comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis, but it wasn’t without an arm���s-length of familiarity between them, so discussing something so personal with people like this was… strange, definitely. But more than that, it was nice. Everyone was clearly excited for him, asking all sorts of questions about Marinette and their plans, how they met and how he asked her out. The photographer, Lila, audibly “aww’d” when he told her about her employment as (practical) sole proprietor of the flower shop.
By the time the next break came, an hour had passed and Adrien felt like he had just finished having the most bizzare group therapy session imaginable. Between the overwhelming positivity of the people around the studio and their decidedly bizarre interest in his love life, he strode to his dressing room to check on Plagg when another model spotted him.
“Oh, hi, Macey.” Adrien stopped and nodded politely. She was a brunette with a dark complexion, taller than his father probably, and he knew she was about five years older than he was. They had done dozens of shoots together for the Gabriel line, and she tended to treat him like a younger brother. While Macey wasn’t quite a friend, she was at least always polite and easy to talk to.
“So A,” she said, hand at her hip. “Tell me about Marinette.”
A rush of blood flooded his cheeks, and the woman laughed. She gestured for them to continue down the hall, which gave him a chance to clear his throat.
“Well, she’s in my class at school - I’m not sure how much you heard out there…?”
She brushed him off. “I want to hear it all again. From the top.”
The explanation felt practically rehearsed after talking to so many people about Marinette recently, so it only took a few minutes to re-explain his friendship and admiration for the dark-haired miracle in his life.
They were standing outside Adrien’s dressing room by the time Adrien finished.
“So you like her. Marinette.”
“Um,” Adrien blinked. Had she even been listening? Wasn’t that much obvious? “Yes. A-a lot, actually.”
“As in, maybe-one-day-a-serious-relationship?”
He nodded firmly, omitting the comment that popped into his head about the possibility they might already be in a relationship if not for his own obliviousness.
Lowering her voice, Macey glanced down the hall.
“Well, then, I’m really happy for you, A. Really.” She smiled, as Adrien was clearly confused. “But take it from me - be careful with the press, especially early on. I lost a lot of good guys to the stress brought on by the paparazzi.”
Ah. Right. That… actually made a lot of sense.
“I guess I didn’t really think about that, I’m just so used to it...” He admitted, tapping his chin.
Macey closed her eyes and nodded, satirically serious. “The burden of fame, my friend. I know it’ll be fine, but I couldn’t not say something. It really sucks if a story gets out of hand, you know?”
Adrien thanked her, and Macey left him to his room. As he entered, he found Plagg snoozing beneath his jacket, so Adrien looked around for his cellphone.
Crap.
He left it in his jeans, which were still over in wardrobe.
Sighing, he sat at the mirror and considered Macey’s advice. It was reminiscent of a rumor that had gotten out about him and Marinette once, and in retrospect, it was funny to think about it now. Someone had taken a photo of them at the park beside her house, under rather embarrassing circumstances if he recalled correctly, and the photo went viral with claims of a secret relationship. At the time, Marinette had taken the gossip in stride and insisted it wasn’t an issue, and like most tabloid fodder, it died out rather quickly since no one in the Agreste circle acknowledged the photos.
A photo or two was innocent enough, so they had no problem dismissing the public speculation surrounding their friendship. But now? If he and Marinette continued to spend more time together (a thought which made him grin in spite of himself), the winds would likely stir the rumor mill all over again.
The irony of all of this was not lost on him.
Adrien had grown up under the constant scrutiny associated with fame, bulbs flashing and shouts commandeering his attention just walking down the sidewalk. The press knew no boundaries, demanding answers on anything and everything ranging from French politics, to the disappearance of his mother, to his take on Chat Noir and Ladybug. Incidentally, when he first wore his miraculous, admiring fans had already been second nature at that point.
Would Marinette be okay with the publicity?
…Maybe?
She was sort of shy, but fierce when she wanted to be. It’s not like you had to be an extrovert to deal with photographers - look at his father, for example.
Still, Adrien didn’t want to upset her or make her uncomfortable. Especially as he’s gotten older and come to, um, understand romance in a more adult context, he could imagine plenty of horrible headlines that could really start them off on unfortunate footing. It’s not like footing was something something Marinette was exactly known for...
“Plagg - I got a question for you.” Adrien pondered, glancing over at the clock. They’ll need him again in another five minutes.
“Adrien, I swear to the stars,” his kwami mumbled. “If Paris isn’t on fire, I’ll cataclysm you.”
The teen smirked, though took a few steps back for good measure. “Can you even do that?”
“Do you really want to find out?” Plagg replied darkly, but lifted his head and met his stare with a half-lidded glare.
“Nope.” Adrien help up his hands. “Actually, I think I just figured out my answer. Go back to sleep, grumpy.”
His kwami did not need telling twice, and his head lowered beneath Adrien’s jacket again. Tiny snores came almost immediately.
Rolling his eyes, Adrien headed out the door and made his way back to the front of the studio. Despite Plagg’s bad attitude, he actually had answered Adrien’s question. All he had to do was ask for the kwami’s attention, and Plagg’s reaction was answer enough to know how the conversation would go.
Why not just do the same thing with Marinette? Not everything had to be a riddle or require a complicated plan. Adrien respected her too much to make assumptions on what she might feel.
By the time he was in front of the camera again, Adrien’s mood was bright again. Some of the set workers still occasionally whispered questions to him about Marinette, which made him blush more than once (each time, the photographer or makeup artist would yell in annoyance. Red cheeks were good for a winter ad, not one with floral backdrops). Aside from those interruptions, the remainder of the shoot passed without issue.
They were all dismissed just a bit few minutes after six, but by the time Adrien had finished changing and washing his face, he wasn’t in the car until quarter-til seven. Sinking comfortably into the seat, he finally sought out his phone. He had fifteen texts from the group chat, and from a separate, private conversation.
Marinette (3:11 PM):
Thanks for sharing, that was really sweet. And np - good luck!
You would think he would be tired of smiling after a photoshoot, but then, he was also lucky enough to have something to look forward to afterwards.
Thinking through a response, Adrien studied the streets as the car rolled by. Vermillion streaks of maroon velvet had begun to explode across the sky, rippling outwards against a swirling miasma of night that began to overtake Paris. Softening, the day was mending beneath the horizon as night came to reign again. It was both dark and luminous, all at once, reminding him of Marinette’s hair as it bounced down the sidewalk.
No, wait.
That was just her, walking home.
“Oh!” He blurted, shooting upright.
Nathalie jumped, and she turned to him sharply. “What is it? Are you alright?”
Adrien blushed, still staring at the window. They were stopped at a light, so Marinette just floated off towards the bakery, towards her home.
“Umm…” He glanced at Nathalie, who was staring at him with hard eyes, and his bodyguard, who was completely not reacting at all.
“Y-yes, I’m fine! It’s just, Marinette is right outside. Could we offer her a ride home?”
The two in the front met eyes, his father’s secretary pursing her lips, and they both glanced at the time on the dash.
“...Pull over,” Nathalie commanded, and the driver did just that at the first chance.
Adrien hastily thanked them and practically flung himself onto the sidewalk, running to catch up with her.
“Marinette! Mari!” Adrien called, speeding past a few alarmed pedestrians. Perhaps she had been examining her cellphone from within her purse, because her pigtails shot up at the call of her name, and she turned around.
“H-hey!” He greeted, stopping and panting in front of her from the sudden sprint. Marinette blinked, nonplussed, and shook her head.
“Adrien? What are you…?” She clasped her bag shut, but smiled as she spoke his name.
He tried to smile back, still slightly bent forward from his exertion. “I was just driving home from the photoshoot… we were stopped at the light,” he jerked over his thumb in the general direction of the car, and Marinette peered over his shoulder. “And I saw you walking. Did you just get out of work?”
Marinette covered her mouth to laugh lightly, and nodded. “Yes, and earlier than I hoped. That akuma scared away a lot of my customers.”
“Oh. Sure.” He rubbed his hands together anxiously, not sure what to say to that.
Silence came thereafter, but it wasn’t awkward. Marinette was just radiant, both physically and by way of her presence alone. She seemed to diffuse happiness into the air itself, and Adrien drank it all in.
It was almost too much when her cheeks turned pink.
Adrien cleared his throat and gestured behind him. “Did you want a ride home? We could take you.”
Marinette’s mouth fell open slightly, surprised. “O-oh, really? I would… I would love that, actually, if you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
He laughed and started to guide them back to the car. “Nah, it’s fine. You’re the only one who attracts trouble, after all.”
Adrien leaned down and grabbed the door, opening it for her. Marinette scrunched her nose, always acting sort of flustered when he would try to behave chivalrously.
Quietly, before stepping in, her blue eyes sparkled. “Should I start calling you trouble, then?”
Marinette closed the door for herself, smiling proudly at what was probably his stunned expression. He was still working through the joke by the time she was buckled in, and he had to scramble around street-side to get in, blushing and grinning at her all the while.
Beside the goofy glimpses they shared on the way back to the bakery, sticking their tongues out or winking dramatically, trying to fight the urge to laugh, the actual conversation remained perfectly cordial. Marinette asked Nathalie how she was doing, and apologized for her mother’s insistence the other day (Adrien guessed she heard it all second-hand from Sabine and Tom once she got home), and she and Adrien spoke about their days.
Well, besides the whole turning into Chat Noir and protecting Paris for almost two hours. He decided to leave that part out.
Towards the end of the ride, Marinette began to bounce lightly against the lush seats, brightening as she retrieved her cell phone. “Your text was really nice, b-by the way. I love Bouvardia, they’re the flower of enthusiasm!”
“I’m glad,” Adrien responded with a smile “I like how enthusiastic you get when you talk about all flowers, so this is like, enthusiasm about enthusiasm.”
“Meta-enthusiasm,” Marinette closed her eyes and nodded solemnly, peeking through a lid and catching his eye. They both grinned and snickered quietly.
“Yeah,” he said with a small, contented sigh as he gazed at the streets. They were very near to her house now. “I always think of you when I see flowers anymore. I hope that’s not weird,”
he tagged on the last part hastily, hoping she didn’t see the color fill his cheeks.
“The shop is like, one of my favorite places in the city.”
Marinette’s smile reached her eyes, and she too was looking out the window. The lights of street lamps that hit her face in a sort of constant flutter. It made her look almost angelic.
“Mine, too,” she commented, voice soft.
They pulled to a stop just outside of the bakery, and he could see Tom inside with a broom, sweeping the front of the store.
“Well…” Marinette said, rubbing her hands on her jeans. She looked nervous, which only made her even more adorable.
Adrien turned to her and tried for some confidence, very aware of the adults in the car and her father fifteen feet away in the building. “I’ll see you tomorrow, after you get off of work?”
Ducking her head, Marinette nodded vigoriously and started to get out the door. She paused halfway through and looked back inside the car.
“Thank you, Adrien, for taking me home. And thank you, Mme. Sancouer and, um, Adrien’s driver.”
“You’re welcome,” Nathalie said, keeping her eyes forward.
Adrien scooted down the seat slightly, leaning towards her. If only he could tell her how beautiful she looked right now, hair framing her face and eyes wide, turned up in kindness.
“Can I... call you again tonight?” He managed shyly.
Adrien lost a bit of his will power when she beamed at him, causing her freckles dancing under the light of the moon. He reached for her hand resting on the open door and, as gently as he could, kissed her knuckles. Glancing up, Adrien hoped the action spoke the word he was too embarrassed to say aloud.
Please?
Her own gaze looked only surprised, but if he didn’t know better, her skin had darkened from the gesture. A tiny bit smug, Adrien thought she looked much less offended than when Monseiur Delcair kissed her hand a week ago.
“I- I, yes. Yes.” She nodded and gave his fingers a light squeeze before pulling away. “I would like you very much. I-I mean, I would like that very much! I’m, I’ll… uh, see you!” Quickly, she waved and tagged on a squeaky “‘Bye!”
The door closed firmly and he watched her scurry up to the door, nearly colliding with the frame on her way inside.
Night proper had settled across Paris, dark and enigmatic, yet the city of love had never seemed so bright. Adrien felt like he was dreaming already, and he when he arrived home after mercifully little questioning from Nathalie, he had never wanted to sleep so readily. The next day, he would take Marinette on their first date, and the hours could not pass fast enough.
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wallpaperpainting · 4 years
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Five Things You Probably Didn’t Know About Sunflower Canvas Painting | Sunflower Canvas Painting
A letter accounting by two of the greatest artists of the 19th century, Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin, about their visits to French brothels has been bought for the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam for €210,600 (£189,000).
The correspondence, ahead captivated in clandestine hands, has been declared as “exceptional”. The two painters braid descriptions of their adventures active calm in Arles, Provence, with claims of authoritativeness that their ignment is arch a “great renaissance of art”.
It was afterward a row with Gauguin, a few weeks afterwards the autograph of the letter, that Van Gogh cut off best of his larboard ear afore walking to a adjacent brothel in Arles to present it to Gabrielle Berlatier, a farmer’s babe alive as a maid. Gauguin abruptly alleged a arrest to his affairs to absorb a year with the Dutch artist, black that his acquaintance had gone “raving mad”.
In the letter anachronous November 1-2 1888, the two men accord an annual to the artisan Émile Bernard of their aboriginal anniversary or so cohabiting in the town’s Yellow House, a bistro with apartment to hire that was immortalised by Van Gogh in an oil painting but burst afterwards actuality heavily damaged during the additional apple war.
“Now article that will absorption you – we’ve fabricated some excursions in the brothels, and it’s acceptable that we’ll eventually go there generally to work,” said Van Gogh in the alone letter he anytime co-wrote with a adolescent artist. “At the moment Gauguin has a canvas in advance of the aforementioned night
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ask-the-phan-site · 4 years
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Phan Cam: A Horizon Holiday
WARNING: IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE LATEST EPISODE OF MARVEL’S SPIDER-MAN, THERE ARE SPOILERS AHEAD! ALSO, SORRY IF THIS MIGHT GET POSTED A LITTLE LATE. WE WERE TRYING TO FIT A LOT IN HERE. THIS WAS SUPPOSE TO BE POSTED BEFORE CHRISTMAS EVE.
>Flashback.
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(imagine it snowing)
>New York City is usually quite festive this time of year. Holiday decorations were hanging everywhere. The Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center was already up and glowing and the ice rink was filled with skaters happy that everything was bright and peaceful... Even the supervillains were nowhere in sight. Yes, it was the most wonderful time of the year... For most.
>A cemetery is not usually a place to go during the holidays. However, Peter Parker, his Aunt May, his boyfriend, Harry Osborn, their friends, Miles Marales, Gwen Stacy, Anya Corazon, Max Modell, Hector Baez, and most recently, Anna Maria Marconi, were standing before a couple of graves.
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Merry Christmas, Ben.
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You, too, Otto.
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Despite his faults, Otto was indeed a good man. If only I had reached out to him sooner...
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It’s not your fault, mi amour, Otto’s father was a wicked and uncaring soul.
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I definitely know.
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I can’t believe there’s someone who’s even crueler than Norman Osborn... Sorry, Harry.
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(the drink he’s holding is for Otto) It’s okay... But choose your more words wisely next time. They might be your last.
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Relax, you guys, if you make you feel any better, Torbert Octavius didn’t get away with it... It’s just a shame how it happened.
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How did it happen?
Gwen: Occupational hazard. He was a construction worker.
Anna Maria: I think we get the picture.
>With that, they put the Christmas trees on the graves and Harry puts the smoothie on Otto’s grave.
May: So, when do you all leave?
Peter: (confused) Huh?
May: To Japan? Harry said that you, him, and your friends would go to Japan for the Fight Before Christmas to support your Soul Taker.
Peter: (starting to look down) About that... We’re not going.
May: (surprised) Not going?
Peter: Well, with everything that’s happened, I don’t think it would be appropriate. I just got back into Horizon and I have a lot to catch up on.
Max: Peter, you know I can excuse you for the holidays. I’m not some Scrooge.
Peter: Okay, but what about you, Aunt May? F.E.A.S.T. is going to get real busy for the holidays.
May: It’s alright, Peter, I already have a lot of volunteers. Including Anna Watson and her niece, Mary Jane. Why, even Robbie, his father, Liz, Flash, and even Miles’s parents are helping. I think I can manage without you for a while.
Peter: I know, but still...
May: Peter, what is it?
>Peter, Harry, Miles, Gwen, and Anya just look down.
Peter: It’s just... We can’t go because Otto just died. Should we really be going on vacation at a time like this?
Miles: He’s right. We should be like mourning for him.
Gwen: We know it’s almost Christmas, but what’s the point of being so merry knowing that the guy who helped save New York is gone?
Miles: That would be like... Dishonoring his memory by having fun like this.
Anna Maria: I see... But I don’t think Otto would have wanted you not to have fun at this time.
Anya: Are you sure? I don’t think it’s a good idea.
Harry: I had my doubts about him, but I still have to respect his memory for everything he’s done for us.
Anna Maria: I know that, but...
???????: You should listen to her.
>The group was surprised by three new faces.
Peter: You’re Vincent Hauser, aren’t you?
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You know about me?
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I’m gonna go on a limb here and say that Japanese schoolboy with frizzy hair and glasses told you.
Miles: ... Maybe.
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That kid must know a lot of people.
Peter: (smiling a bit) Yeah, he’s that kind of person... So what brings you here?
Vincent: For him.
>He was pointing at Otto’s grave. Then, he shows he has a bouquet of flowers.
Anna Maria: You’re here for Otto?
Vincent: ... Let’s just say we were a quiet acquaintances and I’m well aware of what he did for this city. So I thought I’d come with Tunnel Rat to New York to pay my respects.
>Vincent goes over to the grave and places the bouquet on it.
Harry: So, Vince, it’s alright if I call you Vince?
Vincent: Usually my family calls me that.
Harry: I see. So, about what you said about taking Anna Maria’s advice about leaving for the holidays, you really think we should?
Vincent: You can pretty much do whatever. It’s your life. And who knows, maybe she’s right. Maybe Otto Octavius wanted you to leave. I know your friends were really looking forward to it.
Anna Maria: That’s true. I’m surprised you knew I was thinking the same thing Otto would be thinking at a time like this.
Vincent: ... Maybe it came to me in a dream.
Tunnel Rat: That’s been going around lately... Actually, I have been dreaming about a guy in a Japanese mask who met that Amamiya kid.
Peter: (smiling a bit) Yeah, I know the feeling.
Anna Maria: Still, you shouldn’t be spending this holiday moping around. Go, have some fun. Support your friend. For me? For us? ... For Otto?
Peter: ...
>Peter looks to his friends. They knew Anna Maria, Aunt May, Max, and Vincent were right.
Peter: ... I guess we’re going a fight before Christmas.
>The others agree.
May: That’s good.
Peter: Anna Maria, would you like to join us?
Anna Maria: As much as I like to, I think I’ll stay and help your aunt. I think she could use one more volunteer.
May: Thank you, Anna Maria.
Max: We’d come, but me and Hector are off to San Francisco to spend the holidays with his family.
Peter: What about you, Vincent?
Vincent: Pass. I promised Duke and our parents I’d come back home to Missouri for the holidays after seeing Dr. Octavius’s grave. My transport leaves soon.
Tunnel Rat: And me and Teddy got a kosher Chinese restaurant to run. So, see ya.
Teddy: But first, we promised Mom and Dad we’d visit Gramps and Grams while we’re here.
>With that, they leave to a large grave with the Chinese characters for Lee on it. Aunt May, Anna Maria, Max, and Hector also leave.
???????: I think you’re doing the right thing.
>They quickly turn to see the McGee Family.
Peter: (surprised) Oh hi, Mr. McGee.
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You can call me Bonesaw.
Gwen: What brings you guys here?
Lily: We’re just here to visit Booth’s parents. They’re buried here along with his mentor, Crusher Hogan.
MIles: (surprised) Is everyone buried here?
Diane: It’s a big city. A lot of people die and get buried.
Lily: (stern) Diane!
Diane: Sorry.
Bonesaw: So, you’re going to Japan to support Soul Taker? What a coincidence. We’re going, too.
Peter: You are?
Bonesaw: My mentor was always there for me. It’s only fair if Soul Taker’s was there for him, too.
Trish: Plus, we actually get to see a city in another country.
Dennis: (unimpressed) I don’t see why you’re excited. My friend, Katie Power, she’s been to Tokyo and she says it’s no different than New York.
Trish: That’s because she’s more interested in the animes, like Pokemon and stuff. I’m in the same class as her older sister, Julie, and she says that Japan is great... Just watch out for guys in black pajamas.
Diane: Tch! Like we’re going to run into any ninjas this time... But I hope we get to see the Phantom Thieves. They’re awesome.
Bonesaw: (smiling) I’m sure you will, honey.
Harry: (also smiling) Well, with that out of the way, we should get packing. I’ll book a flight for the day after tomorrow.
Bonesaw: Make it after today. That’s when we leave. We’ll go together.
Miles: Really?
Bonesaw: (getting fired up) To really show our support!
Lily: (trying to calm her husband down) And we want to avoid a lot of air traffic from those also going to the tournament.
Harry: Okay. Guess we better start pack... Like now.
>With that, they leave.
>End of flashback.
>The present...
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(Since the Wilton Hotel is basically the Persona series’s version of the Hilton Hotel, our other admin decided to have us use this picture. The only two differences are the name and that, while the Hilton is in Shinjuku, the Wilton is in Shibuya. Sorry if we used this.)
>The Wilton Hotel, Shibuya. The Horizon party and McGee Family checked in the day before yesterday. The Opening Party for the Fight Before Christmas was starting now.
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You know after all this time, you’d think I’d finally learn how to actually put a bowtie on.
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Like I said, Pete, a dying art. Clip-Ons are the future.
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Yeah, that one’s way better than the red-
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(please don’t flag for this dress) Miles, ix-nay on Orman-nay’s owtiebay.
>Miles sees Peter and Harry unimpressed.
Miles: Sorry.
Lily: (wearing a simple white dress with a holly pin with the letters ST for Soul Taker) Don’t feel too down. These things happen... Then again, this is Norman Osborn we’re talking about.
Miles: (frustrated) Not. Helping.
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By the way, Harry, what did you do with your father’s bowtie? I know you don’t want to talk about it, but since it’s red and it’s almost Christmas, I thought it would be appropriate.
Harry: Eh, I have it a good home.
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>The Raft... The name on the building says it all.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent: Yo, Osborn! You’ve got an early Christmas present.
>The agent loads the package into Norman Osborn’s cell. He opens it to find his red bowtie with a note.
Clip-on bowties are way better.
Merry Christmas
Love, Harry
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Cute, Harry. Really cute...
(The following image... We thought we should add it.)
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Merry Christmas, son... By the way, young man, did something else showed up in the mail?
Agent: What do you mean? I think that’s all.
Norman: Really? ... Check again.
>The agent looks in his bag and finds... Some papers. Curious, he looks at them... and is shocked.
Agent: Th- These are...
?????: Yes, they are.
Agent: (shocked) Huh!? How did you get here?
?????: I have my ways.
Norman: Indeed. It took you very long to come visit me.
>The stranger comes to Norman’s cell.
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What could I say? After all, we’re both very busy men.
>Back at the Wilton.
Peter: (shivers) Thought I felt a shiver down my back.
Harry: Same here.
Miles: You think it’s something to do with what happened to you the other day?
Peter: No, this feels more... (smiling) Actually, it’s probably nothing. Right now, this night is all about Soul Taker and Christmas.
Miles: I guess you’re right.
Lily: Well, if you’re feeling out of place, I brought these.
>Lily started handing out holly pins that support Soul Taker.
Gwen: Thanks, Mrs. McGee.
Trish: (wearing a magenta dress with pink stripes and the pin) She and Dennis made them to support Soul Taker.
Dennis: (wearing a light blue dress shirt and black pants with the pin) All I did was put the hot glue on them. Mom put the other stuff on.
Diane: (wearing a long red dress with one strap where the pin is) Come on, Dennis, you’re one of the best crafters we know.
>Dennis just says quiet.
>We arrive with Admin and Shiho and greet our visitors.
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Hey, guys, you made it!
Harry: (smiling) I thought we weren’t coming. But we did.
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We’re glad you did. It’s so nice we could be together. For New Years, the Dream Festival, and now this.
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(wearing a dress similar to the Saya from Blood+ wore in Episode 11) It’s just a shame you weren’t here for the End of Summer.
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Yeah, it would have been more great if we were all there.
Anya: I know. We’ll see if we can come next year.
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Then it’s a date.
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Anyway, I’m also glad you’re here, Bonesaw sensei.
Bonesaw: (basically wearing a black tuxedo jacket over his wrestling costume, but still has the holly pin) Well, have to check in on my best student and show support.
Lily: And from the looks of it, you might need it.
Bonesaw: Yeah, you might have to go up against two fellow wrestlers.
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You mean Tiger Mask and Tiger the Dark?
Bonesaw: Yeah, They’re fierce legendary warriors. Be glad you didn’t have to fight them last year.
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I think I can get by if all of you were there cheering me on.
Bonesaw: I hope you’re right.
Anya: Speaking of wrestling, you know about Animal Mask and MAO?
Skull: Yeah, we were talkin’ about ‘em the other day.
Trish: Then, you also know about how they disappeared. She’s asking if the Detective Prince found anything.
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I’m afraid Naoto Shirogane is on that case. You’ll have to ask her.
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(wearing a Midnight Blue Tuxedo, his mother insisted since it goes with his hair) She’s right over there if you want to ask.
>He points over to Naoto, who was in deep conversation with with fellow detectives, Conan Edogawa, Heiji Hattori, Columbo’s sun, Baranko, and Miwako Sato.
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Looks like they’re gonna be a while. In the meantime, why not have a look around. We might meet some interesting people.
Diane: You mean check in on the competition to find their weaknesses?
Bonesaw and Lily: (sternly) Diane!
Diane: Sorry.
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Anyway, let’s see who’s here tonight. Look there, Adrien Agreste, his girlfriend, Kagami Tsurugi, their friend, Marinette Dupan-Cheng, and her boyfriend, Luka Couffaine. We should go over and say hello.
>We agree. We go over to them.
Skull: Yo! Adrien san, Kagami chan, Marinette chan, Luka kun!
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Adrien: Konichiwa! It’s nice to meet you.
Kagami: Hai, same here.
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(imagine him wearing a tuxedo which he is uncomfortable in, but is trying to hide it with a smile) Hey, you’re Ryuji Sakamoto from KUROFUNE. We saw you at Dream FES.
Skull: (happy) For real? I’m glad you remember.
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Personally, I think you should have gotten 1st Place.
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Hey, there’s always next year.
Luka: We’re also glad you brought friends with you. We saw you on the second day when we, Kitty Section, were performing.
Oracle: Just some stuff we first did for Dancing in Starlight.
Adrien: Ah, I thought I recognized you! You did those dancing videos.
Marinette: I was actually inspired by those videos to make a few designs... Though, I wish I knew where you got the stuff to pull off those videos. They seem almost... Out of this world.
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We get that a lot.
Kagami: It would seem that way, Soul Taker... Ren Amamiya.
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Shoot, I revealed myself.
Kagami: Yes. I also know of your other friends as well. Apart from track runner turned idol, Ryuji, there’s Ann Takamaki, model who wishes to be an actress, the art prodigy, Yusuke Kitagawa. Makoto Nijima who participated in last year’s tournament. Futaba Sakura, daughter of the late scientist, Wakaba Isshiki. Haru Okumura, daughter of the late Kunikazu Okumura of Okumura Foods. The Detective Prince, Goro Akechi. And I believe there were two others in your group.
Queen: They have their own plans for the holidays.
Kagami: I see. I also know of your American friends. Peter Parker, one of Horizon High’s most brilliant students and is also the superhero, Spider-Man. Harold Osborn, CEO of Oscorp Industries after his father, Norman Osborn. Gwendolyn Stacy, niece of Dr. Raymond Warren, aka the Jackal. You were also known as Spider-Gwen during the Spider Island Incident. Miles Morales, whose knowledge in robotics is matched only by our friend’s.
Miles: Yeah, how is Max Kante doing these days? I haven’t seen him since the robotics fair in Abu Dhabi.
Marinette: He’s doing fine. I’ll tell him you said hi when we get back to Paris.
Miles: Thanks.
Kagami: Then we have Anya Corazon, Horizon’s top student who has won more awards there than any. And last, but not least, Booth “Bonesaw” McGee, the star and champion of So You Want To Be A Wrestler, along with his family.
Bonesaw: Glad to see I’m known more worldwide.
Lily: Well, you are that kind of person, Booth.
Kagami: Yes. We’re pretty much in the company of celebrities. We should be honored. (does a small bow)
>We bow back.
Soul Taker: So, Kagami san, what brings you back to Japan with your friends? Are you in the tournament?
Kagami: I was going to. But when I learned that Yasuchicka Haninozuka would not be participating this year, I pulled out at the last minute. But I thought I would stay to see who the new champion would be... Personally, I hope it’s Sho Minazuki.
Trish: So, you’ll be rooting for him?
Kagami: I have mutual respect for him as a sword fighter. I wish to test his skill with mine.
???: Well, tis the season for wishes. But be careful of them.
>We turn to see Sho Minazuki coming to us.
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Surprise, bitches! Long time, no see!
Miles: (a little nervous) Is he always like this?
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You don’t know the half of it.
????: But I do.
>Then, Chie Satonaka comes to us. She was wearing the same dress she wore last year.
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Seriously, Sho kun, ever heard of decorum?
Sho: Decorum deshmorum. If the “dragon chick” wants to fight me, she’s gonna have to wait. There’s already someone I have in mind. Speaking of which, where is he?
Chie: Yu’s not here. He was gonna come, but Yosuke came down with a cold. So Yu, Rise, and Teddie are at Yu’s parent’s apartment taking care of him.
Sho: And the others? Like that girl you’re always hanging around?
Chie: Yukiko’s in Hasetsu helping some relatives and Kanji and his mom are visiting their own relatives in Osaka. So only Naoto came with me.
Sho: I see. Well, when you see that silver haired bastard... The Sho must go on! (laughing)
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Give it up, scare face, those puns will never catch on.
Sho: Tch! Whatever. Well, just tell him. In the meantime, there’s a nice bass with my name on it at the fish table.
>With that he leaves.
Chie: Sorry about that.
Peter: I’ve dealt with his type before.
Adrien: Yeah, I know.
Chie: Hey, it’s glad to see you guys again. Makoto chan, are you entering this year, too?
Queen: I’m afraid not due to winter finals. Besides, my aikido sensei already gained enough money to keep his school open for a long time.
Chie: That’s good to hear. And now that we’ve paid for Yuta’s operation, the beef bowl feast is back on. By the way, how is he?
Joker: A friend of Yuta’s told me. And...
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It was a success.
Chie: It was? That’s really good.
Queen: Well, there were a few problems. He even almost died. But he came back and he pulled through. Last month, he felt pain for the very first time. He said it felt bad... but good at the same time.
Chie: Well I’m glad for him. Maybe his mother will be more at ease now since her son can now tell if he needs help. Especially if his stepdad and Big Bro Joe are there for him.
Joker: That’s true. Joe told me now he’s just entering this tournament to do something between boxing tournaments.
Chie: Which makes me wonder... What will Sho do with ¥900,000? His dad already left him an inheritance to last him a lifetime.
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I’d rather not find out.
>With that we laugh and Chie makes her way.
Adrien: We better go, too. I promised Father and Kagami’s mother we meet them before they make the opening speech.
>With that, they also leave.
Queen: Let’s see who else is here.
Crow: I can see Kaldur, Wyynde, and their friends over there. About time they made it. Let’s go over to them.
>We go over to Kaldur, Wyynde, and their two friends, Asami Koizumi, and her boyfriend, Tye Longshoadow. Kaldur and Wyynde were wearing their usual hero uniforms, Asami was wearing a blue kimono with designs that match her personality, and Tye was wearing (though a bit cliche, a little inaccurate, and even... stereotypical) a light brown buckskin jacket over an orange dress shirt, a green bolo tie, blue jeans, and brown shoes. He kept his headband.
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Sorry if we kept you waiting. Tye was having a hard time.
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Well what did you expect? Almost everyone here are wearing weather has a tuxedo or a kimono. It just makes me feel a little... out of place.
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Neither me or Kaldur are wearing such things and we are just fine.
Tye: Easy for you to say. Being from an undersea kingdom, you can pretty much wear whatever. Asami?
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... Uniqueness is beautiful.
Tye: (groans in defeat) Fine, you win.
Noir: Well I think you look great, Tye kun. I especially like your bolo tie.
Tye: It was my grandfather’s. He gave it to me.
Noir: How is your grandfather?
Tye: ... I’d rather not talk about it.
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You mean...
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No, you’re right, we shouldn’t talk about this. This night is about the tournament and Soul Taker.
Tye: It’s okay.
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Yeah, no harm done here.
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Thank you. 
Tye: I guess meeting you here, maybe what I’m wearing isn’t so bad after all.
Diane: Tell me about it. (turns her gaze to her father)
Bonesaw: Hey, if it ain’t broke.
Tye: Now I just have to worry about those entering.
Gwen: Why, are you entering, too?
Tye: No, I’m just here to watch. I’m just worried about those with powers. Meta-humans, Inhumans, mutants, NEXT, you name it. Won’t using their powers in the tournament be, I don’t know... Cheating?
Peter: Don’t worry, this year, they’re prepared. Fighters can use their powers, but only three times per match. And to ensure this, they are to be fitted with special collars that will count how many times they use their powers. They use their powers more than three times, the collar will send an alert and that fighter is disqualified.
Kaldur: I hope you’re right. I hear some people can be sneaky.
Asami: But isn’t that what heroes are for?
Peter: That’s true.
???? ??????: Yes, heroes are necessary for even things like this.
>We quickly turn to see who had just came to us.
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(wearing a black tuxedo) Though, from what I’ve heard, Asami chan, you and Longshadow are not much of heroes these days.
Asami: (a bit surprised) You’re... That me from the other DC world. Wind Dragon, wasn’t it?
Wind Dragon: You know it, Asami Koizumi.
Asami: Funny you should say that. Because from what I’ve heard... You’re dead.
Wind Dragon: Yeah, funny story. I’ll gladly tell you over some punch.
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Are you serious?
Wind Dragon: Relax, I was only kidding. I wouldn’t even dream of hitting on Asami. If she’s a version of me, that sort of makes us related. Best not to even joke about it.
Asami: (unimpressed) That better be true.
Tye: (more upset than Asami) Not cool, man. Not cool.
Wind Dragon: My beef’s not with you, Fake Longshadow... But I will be saving my “breath” for him.
>He was pointing at me.
Soul Taker: I take it you’re in the tournament?
Wind Dragon: You bet. What better way to show everyone that Wind Dragon is back. A new life. And even a new name.
Wyynde: A new name?
Wind Dragon: A hero is all I ever wanted to be. But it never hurts to have a life outside of that. Toshio Eto is the name I chose. Though, I still like being called Wind Dragon.
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Well then, Toshio Eto, I look forward to doing battle with you.
>We shake hands and we part for now.
Miles: He sure is full of himself.
Skull: Sure seems that way. And I thought Mona’s like that.
Bonesaw: Yeah, I’m a little guilty of pride myself. That’s also a weakness, so be sure to watch for that, Soul Taker.
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Alright.
Kaldur: Well, we’ll see you later.
Asami: Yes, I’m hoping I would get to meet Chung-Li while we’re here.
>With that, they leave.
Diane: I’m bailing, too. I’m getting hungry and I really want to try one of those chocolate fountains.
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I know. The Wilton Buffet is to die for.
Shiho: I know. I can’t believe we’re here now.
Panther: Sorry we didn’t invited you that time. You were in the hospital then. But now, you’re here.
Shiho: I know. Thanks for inviting me here.
Panther: Hey, Diane, is it alright if we join you?
Diane: I don’t see why not.
Lily: Me, Trish, and Dennis will come, too. It’s almost about time for dinner. We’ll make plates for you, too.
Queen: Right, see you soon.
>With that, they head off to the buffet... I hope I don’t get stuck with beans again.
Anya: I think that’s Maddie Stone there. I think those other kids with her are the rest of the Blazing Team.
Gwen: I think we should talk to them, see what they think of this tournament.
>We agree and go over to Maddie and the other four members of the Blazing Team.
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(wearing a simple blue dress which she doesn’t look happy to be in, but covering it up) Hey, you’re Soul Taker, right? And his mentor, Bonesaw McGee.
Soul Taker: A pleasure to meet you, Maddie san.
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(wearing a simple brown jacket over a red shirt) And you’re Peter Parker, aka Spider-Man. Cool.
Peter: I’m usually called that while I’m in the mask. Right now, I’m just Peter. Or Pete if you like.
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(wearing a green sweater and a black kippah and look a little awkward being here) Yeah, I guess.
NOTE: Keep in mind, not much as been about the Blazing Team’s background, including their religion. So sorry if Wilson is Jewish when it may not be his actual religion. Also sorry if the next part may sound a bit offensive.
Oracle: Feeling a little self-conscious?
Wilson: Maybe a little.
Queen: You’re not alone, you know. A lot of people here have their own holiday traditions due to religion.
Harry: She’s right. I usually celebrate Winter Solstice apart from Christmas with my maternal grandparents. But after a while, I was forced to stop.
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(wearing a yellow tux) Sounds like you had it tough, poor little rich boy.
Harry: You don’t know the half of it... But Pete was always there for me. He helped me through it.
Peter: (happy) And I always will be.
>The two young men smile and embrace.
??????: Oh, go find some mistletoe already.
>Someone else joins us.
Maddie: (almost upset) What are you doing here?
Wilson: And doesn’t that suit make you look a bit like a pimp?
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(wearing a suit similar to his regular outfit) So you’re saying I shouldn’t support my sister in the most neutral time of the year? And I happen to like this suit. It reflects who I am.
Scott: Whatever you say.
Maddie: Well, as long as you don’t cause any trouble.
Johnny: This truce is only until after New Years. So don’t worry.
>The Blazing Team just stared worryingly at their former member.
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It looks like it’s going to be an interesting transition.
Wilson: Don’t encourage him. Well, I’m off to the buffet. I wonder if they have corn dogs.
>The Blazing Team and Johnny just groan.
>We leave the Blazing Team and their former teammate to speak.
Queen: Speaking of which, we should be meeting the others at there as well.
Skull: Actually, I gotta jet. See ya on stage.
>I nod and Skull walks off.
Bonesaw: What’s that about?
Noir: Normally, the Ouran Host Club does the opening ceremony. But due to some of the members having plans for the holidays, not to mention Tamaki Suoh is on hiatus for the time being, KUROFUNE was asked to fill in and Ryuji is a member.
>We meet with Panther, Shiho, and the rest of the McGee Family. Lily, Diane, Trish, and Dennis were talking with another family when they noticed us.
Lily: Booth, you’ll never guess who’s here. Margaret Power and her family.
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(wearing a while suit with a skirt) Mr. Bonesaw, it’s nice to meet you.
Bonesaw: Same here.
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(wearing a light blue dress shirt and tan pants) Actually, I’m sort of a fan of yours. I’ve watched So You Want To Be A Wrestler now and again.
Bonesaw: And I suppose you want an autograph.
Dr. Power: ... Maybe a little.
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(working on a last minute gift) You’re actually making his holiday here. I’ve never seen him so happy.
Bonesaw: (signing a picture of himself) That’s good to hear. A Merry Christmas to you, too.
Dr. Power: (a little embarrassed taking the picture) Th- Thank you.
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Hey, don’t forget, we’re here because of me.
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We know, Jack, you’ve told us like a bunch times.
Soul Taker: You’re in the tournament?
Jack: (smiling proudly) You bet!
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We were a bit surprised at first. We didn’t even know such thing happens around Christmas. And they even let someone as young as Jack enter.
Queen: Ken Masters and Ryu needed something to do between Street Fighter Tournaments. And the minimum age to enter is 8.
Jack: I just turned 11. And I sorta... Wanted to meet Iron Fist.
Julie: Are you sure, Jack? You know you might have to fight him.
Jack: (starstruck) I know. To have a chance to face off Iron Fist in the ring?
???? ????: They say confidence is key, but do not let it cloud your judgement.
Jack: (surprised) Holy smoke, it’s him!
>No doubt about it, right next to us is the legendary hero, Iron Fist.
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It is alright, right now, we are equals in this tournament. Jack Power, am I correct?
Jack: Y- Yes, sir. Er, Mr. Iron Fist.
Iron Fist: Just Iron Fist is fine.
Katie: Iron Fist, I want to ask you something.
Iron Fist: What is it, little one?
Katie: Well... Why are you in this tournament?
Julie: He does have a point. What do you need ¥900,000 for? Isn’t your family already rich?
Noir: She’s right. Under the mask, your real name is Daniel Rand and your family owns a major company. Almost as big as Stark Industries.
Iron Fist: True. I have no need for the money. The truth is... I needed an excuse to come to Japan.
Katie: What for?
Iron Fist: ... I like to keep that to myself.
Jack: Aw c’mon, you can tell me.
Alex: (unhappy) Jack!
Jack: (defeated) Fine. Never mind. I know you have your reasons. But, you know, just in case...
Iron Fist: ... Thank you, I will think about it.
Jack: (happy whisper) Yes!
>It is then that I notice Iron Fist... turns his gaze to me... Is here in Japan... for me?
Crow: It looks like Naoto senpai is almost finished with her meeting. Shall we speak to her now?
Soul Taker: I guess we can.
Queen: I’ll come too, just in case.
>With that, we go over to Naoto who was finishing up with her fellow detectives.
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I have to admit, this is a most unusual case. Two big strong wrestlers just suddenly disappear without a trace.
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I know. It’s almost like... Magic... You think Kaitou Kid might have something to do with this?
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That doesn’t sound like something he’d do. What would he do with a couple of wrestlers?
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I agree. But still, it is rather odd. Almost like... Like they’ve been taken to another world.
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Now Detective Shirogane, you know as well as I do that other worlds is just a theory.
Heiji: And what about Thor?
Balanco: ... But I’ve been wrong before. That’s still a possibility.
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(Talk about a quick recovery. Guess this kid’s more arrogant then we give him credit... Kind of reminds me of Kogoro san.)
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I quite agree with Naoto senpai. That might be possible.
Naoto: (surprised) Akechi kun? You’re here.
Baranco: Ah, Detective Akechi. I thought you’d might be here.
Crow: You knew I was coming?
Baranco: Yes, I was told you’re a fan of Soul Taker here.
Conan: Say, Detective Akechi, I know you’re not on the case, But I was wondering what your take on the missing wrestlers is.
Crow: That’s what I was hoping to talk to Naoto senpai about. You said you might have an idea about who would know where Animal Mask and MAO are.
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Because, me and my friends know someone who might know the same thing.
Naoto: Yes, I had a feeling you would.
Conan: And I think I know who you’re talking about.
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You- You do?
Conan: Yes.
>This could be bad.
Conan: (smiling) You’re referring to the fortuneteller in Shinjuku.
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Precisely.
>What a relief.
Heiji: What’s with the relief look?
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No reason.
Detective Sato: I think I know that fortuneteller. She predicted that my soulmate was real close to where we were... I wasn’t sure what she meant. But whatever she said... Detective Takagi was real nervous about it while we were with her.
>Conan and Heiji just laugh. Detective Sato was just confused.
Baranco: I don’t put much stock in that kind of stuff, though this might be right up her alley. Because from what witnesses have described... Both men vanished in glowing sparkles. In a way, it probably was magic.
Conan: (with a determined smiled) You never know, Baranco san, that might be true.
>Then, Ran Mouri comes to us.
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Conan kun, the opening ceremony is about to start. Let’s meet us with the others.
Conan: Alright, Ran neechan.
Ran: Alright. Soul Taker, good luck in the tournament.
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You, too as well, Ran san.
>With that, we part ways for now and rejoin the others.
>The time for the opening ceremony began and KUROFUNE came on stage.
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Welcome everyone to the 16th Annual Fight Before Christmas Tournament! We are KUROFUNE! I’m Yuto Kuroishi!
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Keigo Kazama.
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And I’m Ryuji Sakamoto!
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Yes, welcome. I’m Ken Masters. And this is my fellow co-founder of this tournament, Ryu, who I finally managed to convinced to come to this.
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Only because the house I normally stay in for the holidays had its roof fall in and I need a place to stay until it can be fixed.
Ken: Also with us are my lovely wife, Eliza, and our son, Mel.
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Happy Holidays, everyone.
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(art originally by AznBlaze) Dad says I’m now officially old enough to enter the tournament. But don’t go easy on my just because he and Uncle Ryu founded this tournament.
Ken: Also with us are Japanese sword master, Tomoe Tsurugi and her daughter, Kagami.
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I can tell that this year’s tournament promises to be one of the biggest yet.
Kagami: Indeed it does.
Ken: Their guest, Parisian fashion designer, Gabriel Agreste and his son Adrien.
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I look forward to seeing how well this tournament turns out.
Adrien: So do I, Father.
Ken: Also, Adrien and Kagami’s friends. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Luka Couffaine.
>They just wave.
Ken: We also have, (groans) at my wife’s insistence, the Guile Family.
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Guile: Happy Holidays.
Ken: Either way, this tournament is to remind us of all the struggles we had to endure this year. To celebrate who we are, who we were, and who we will be. Good luck, fighters! May the best one win!
>Everyone applauded.
>After the party, we meet up with Skull, Yuto, Keigo, Kaldur, Wyynde, Asami, and Tye.
Anya: I’m not ready to go to bed yet.
Oracle: So am I. Wanna grab some coffee? Our favorite diner is nearby.
Lily: I could use a drink, too. I’m so glad we can stay for New Years as well.
Miles: Lucky you.
Queen: You’re not staying, Miles?
Miles: I promised my folks I’d be home for Kwanzaa. So you guys better take pictures for me.
Peter: Don’t worry, we will.
>With that, we make our way to the diner.
>I wonder who will win this year’s tournament.
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