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uranometrias · 11 days

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hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!

this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.

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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.

The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.

Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.

He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.

You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.

"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.

"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.

"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.

She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.

"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.

"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.

Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.

"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.

"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.

"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.

"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.

You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.

You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.

"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.

"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.

"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.

"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.

"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.

"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.

Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.

"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.

"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."

"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"

Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.

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depressedraisin · 3 months

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notes on "mr. snarl"

hello, hello, hello welcome to the mr. snarl is high camp discourse. i've been readin' and thinkin' and drivin' myself nuts over this, so i'll be blabberin' on for a good minute. bear with me.

before we dive into any discussion of camp, we ofcourse need to understand what camp is in the first place. camp as an idea is nearly impossible to neatly put down in a few words or a sentence. it has no definition as of such. camp is loud. camp is ostentatious. camp is exaggerated. camp is 'too much'. camp is gay. camp is ironic. camp is cheeky. drag is camp. marlene dietrich is camp. baroque art is camp. cher is camp. mommie dearest (1981) is camp. the rocky horror picture show (1975) is camp. dostoevsky is camp.

the girlies who get camp get it, those who don't, don't.

however we do have susan sontag's 1964 seminal essay 'notes on "camp"' from where most of our contemporary ideas and understanding of 'camp' comes from. in her essay, sontag noted 58 points on what camp is or might be. for our purposes in this post, we'll go by those. because it is the camp bible of course. and i am a pretentious bitch.

now before we get to the meat of the matter, a quick detour to discuss the many faces of alex turner.

alex's personas have now come to as closely associated to his image as an artist and public figure as blonde wigs are with dolly parton, i suppose. it even has its own section in alex's wiki page. he is one those performers to whom the "eras" concept can truly and perfectly apply. he is a different man on stage with every new album, each 'era' is unique from the other and distinctly defined. a new 'era' for alex is not only a change of a haircut or a new pallette, it is a total revamping of his mannerisms and performance style and public image. be it mr. schwarz (the car era), mark (tbhc era) or oliver tate sr. (early sias era), each one of his personas is another way in which he represents the themes of that album. understanding a persona is integral to understanding the album.

and alex admits to as such. each Performer is a fractured reflection of his own self, and of the album.

but. but. i do not think that he has always made use of the Performer, or atleast, tried to make perceivable distinctions between them. in the first three-four years of his career- during WPSIATWIN and FWN, he presented as just Some Guy. just another normal bloke from sheffield. which, you could argue, was the persona that fit the context of those albums, but i would say that he was probably not putting that much thought into it at the time. it isn't until TAOTU that we see alex using his on-stage fashion to project a certain kind of image that ties in with the music he's playing. (do i think it's miles' handiwork? yes.). the lil suits and ties and beatles-mop cuts, y'know.

the first distinct Performer appears during the Humbug era. the soft-spoken, brooding, fawn-mannered poet who is probably hiding a bagful of secrets and hang-ups behind those layers of brown curls- let's call her him aly. then we have the bright-eyed, puppy-smiled, deep-voiced loverboy of the early SIAS era. i propose to call him oliver tate sr. (after the guy from submarine (2010) obviously). then mr. snarl- we'll get to him later. the loud and theatrical and slutty and deliciously gay EYCTE era persona. then the melancholic space poet mark of TBH&C and finally the suave auteur of The Car- mr. schwarz.

mr. snarl is the one who has garnered the most fascination and endured the most in popular imagination. dare i say, AM-era alex turner is a lowkey late 2010s pop culture icon. it is very easy to understand why- the quiff, the leather jackets, the perpetual sunglasses, the biker boots, the LA drawl tinging his sheffield accent, the devil-may-care wantoness. the girlies on tiktok and pinterest aren't obsessed with him for nothing.

so, what makes mr. snarl camp? what am i yapping on about?

let's get back to sontag.

camp is artificial. camp is ironic. mr. snarl is too. he is a character. he is a mask. *cue the bourne identity and body paint*. 'artificial' does not imply fake or dishonest. we should be careful not to be quick in putting any value judgement onto this artificiality- the aritifice is a quality of camp. you can't appreciate camp, if you snigger at the artificial.

2. camp is character. mr. snarl is a character if there ever was one. extremely defined, visually and behaviourally- you see a performance and can immediately recognise the moment mr. snarl is peeking through. he is also very intensely one thing- very intensely masculine, very intensely rockabilly, very intensely rock god. he is 'instant character' as sontag puts it, which is why perhaps he so immediately and so firmly gripped our collective imagination.

3. camp is exaggerated. camp is style. do i even need to elaborate on this? Ben Beaumont-Thomas of The Guardian said it much better than i could- alex ironically "played with the role" of being a rockstar but simultaneously "can't help but be a real rock star." so, to put it in sontagian terms, he is not a rockstar but a "rock star"

the 2014 brit awards speech is the peak of this ironic, exaggerated performance i think. (i'm still waiting for someone to do a drag performance based on it).

4. but to me, what makes mr. snarl camp is his performance of gender. now let's get one thing clear- camp is not effeminate or queer behaviour. it is the "spirit of extravagance", so any kind of extravagant and ironic presentation of gender can be under the purview of camp.

this performance of gender is not the david bowie or marc bolan or brian molko kind, no. this performance of gender is much subtle, much more nuanced- he wasn't playing around with rigid definitions of gender or crossing gender lines. he wasn't trying to say something with it necessarily. i doubt even, if it was a purposeful thing that he was thinking of back then.

but mr. snarl is a performance of gender. it is a performance of masculinity. and the thing that makes it so very interesting is that it was a cis, straight man doing it.

[if y'all are interested, another interesting example is dolly parton + her persona + her performance of exaggerated femininity. for more on that i'll point you towards be kind rewind's video essay on her.]

mr. snarl was an image of a very certain kind of masculinity. 1950s, elvis presley, rockabilly, greasers, james dean- these are some of the pop culture touchstones that come to mind when we think of mr. snarl. he is also decidedly american. a "fictional character from america" as alex later put it. was this whole persona thing an effort to conquer america then? perhaps...but eh. there is no way i can conclusively say that. it certainly helped that cause. AM the album was very us-american in essence-- it drew from hiphop and r&b after all. the soundscape of the arctic monkeys was very much rooted in its northern british indie roots, and AM was the first one that was clearly not. and mr. snarl was just a visual reflection of that. [for more on how the arctic monkeys conquered the us]

mr. snarl was a certain kind of masculine in a way alex turner personas haven't been previously or since. he has always presented as conventionally masculine. even the humbug persona- him being my girlfriend notwithstanding- is not much different from the aesthetics of say, ray davies or mick jagger or george harrison back in the 60s and 70s. the slightly effeminate dramaticism of eycte is not exactly gender-bending as such.

but mr. snarl was hypermasculine. masculinity has had an interesting place in his lyrics up until they- they are both critical ('brianstorm' 'a certain romance') and fascinated ('jeweller's hand' 'catapult') of more aggressive masculine characteristics. (he does use a lot of very sexual but not necessarily erotic language to describe said masculinity- but that's another can of worms.) mr. snarl was in a way, alex being those characters from those songs he was writing about. mr. snarl also very aggressively straight. straight with a capital s. his songs in AM still had the self-abasing and submissive undertones to the narrator that love songs from humbug and sias, but much toned down. he was out there shouting out his girlfriend on stage. and who can forget the "ladiessssssss!" moment. he had models hanging off him in photoshoots.

you probably saw these photos and thought- "what the fuck?!" with a cackle. that is exactly what makes mr. snarl camp. the irony, the ridiculousness of it all.

5. i don't think alex was trying to be or do camp. camp is best when it is not intentional. i can even confidently wager alex would not take it as a compliment if i showed him this essay. a lot of very "serious" people look down upon camp as something lowbrow and tacky and unserious. but it isn't. i would go ahead and classify mr. snarl under naive camp- he is trying to be straightlaced and serious, but failing grandly, which makes it deliciously camp.

so. mr. snarl was an exaggerated representation of masculinity. in a sense, mr. snarl was basically drag. alex turner being "Alex Turner".

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #the last shadow puppets #camp #susan sontag #i spent wayyyy to much time on this #journal of alex turner studies

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a0random0gal · 6 months

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Soo today I made the terrible mistake to look for hotd art on pinterest, and came across a... particular comment that genuinely led me to question my faith in humanity.

Oh boy

Where do I even begin with this?

I thought team black was at least cool with Hel cause she's literally the most innocent character in the show (except for the kids obviously) but apparently some blacks have beef with her too now.

Cool, just great.

Haelena had the opportunity to go with her kids to Nyra.

I'm sorry but why? Why would she want to betray her family, her actual family? Rhaenyra never gave a flying fuck about her growing up, they have never even talked on screen! Why, why would she dump her siblings and her parents to join the cause of the woman who's side wants the people she loves killed? It makes no sense whatsoever. The blacks really don't understand that not everyone on Planetos loves Nyra like them and it shows.

Also if she really tried to betray her family for Nyra, I think Aegon, Ali and Aemond would have noticed Dreamfyre leaving King's Landing to go to Dragonstone and would have gone after her on Sunfyre and Vhagar.

And even if she somehow made it there, what do you think was going to happen? Rhaenyra was just going to welcome them with open arms as if she wasn't married to her "usurper"?

Best case scenario Nyra pretends to welcome them in and then Daemon sends his men to strangle Jaehaerys and Maelor as they sleep to get rid of Aegon's possible heirs.

I mean hell in the books Rhae put a fucking bounty on her 2 year old nephew's head that lead to his brutal death and they think she would just allow them to switch sides? Man these people really do not know how the game of thrones works.

She wanted to be queen

When? When has it ever been stated that Hel wants to be queen? When did we ever get a dialogue where she talked about how she couldn't wait for Aegon to inherit so she could replace her mom as queen?

Never

Haelena spends most of her time on screen making prophecies of the future, playing with bugs and dancing with Jace, when has her ambition for the crown been portrayed?

When have we seen any hint of her desire for power? Wtf

We're all dumb and sick bla bla...

Honestly after all this trash I've had to debunk being called names doesn't even phase me lmao. Go ahead, insulting others is always your last resort when you don't know how to admit that you're wrong.

We are blinded by the outside beauty of the characters and don't pay attention to who they really are

Ohhh the sweet sweet irony of this statement .

Team broccoli doesn't acknowledge their rapist usurper, their war criminal prince and their whore queen Alicunt! They're so nasty!

But Isn't Daemon suuper hot? God he is such an obedient malewife, Rhaenyra couldn't have chosen better! He's not a pedo guys I swear, the young silver haired virgins' ages were never confirmed, maybe they were at least eighteen! And he totally didn't pursue Nettles sexually, she was most likely his daughter!

What a joke

#house of the dragon #hotd #anti team black #pro team green #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon targaryen #anti team black stans #haelena targaryen #jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #maelor targaryen #god these people's hypocrisy will never not be sad

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allysdelta · 3 months

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A companion piece to my Crowley comic, in which Book and TV Aziraphale have their own little heart-to-heart over sushi. Angelic bedside manner isn't really all it's cracked up to be.

Support the artist on Ko-fi Follow on Patreon!

#Aly tries to art #Good Omens #Book Omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #Show Omens #witness seven pages of the artist struggling with the enigma that is Michael Sheen's face #As someone once said: Adaptation is not marriage and changes are not adultery #CrossOmens

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misguidedasgardian · 8 months

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I need to... (6)

... Think

MASTERLIST

Summary: You almost forgot…

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, modern au, mentions of cheating and past relationship, reader and Cregan are orphans :( might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 3.2 k

Notes: Thank you all for reading, I'm having such a fun time writing this. I already have the groupd's summer vacation plan and THEY ARE GOING TO BE SO AMAZING!

Thanks to your injured ankle you had missed the rest of spirit week, you had won the hall decorating competition, BUT, had lost the whole thing… the engineers won, again…

You were bummed that you had missed it, BUT, tomorrow you were allowed to resume your activities, and you were glad because you were losing it being locked up in your dorm room, and you were even more glad because a classmate of yours, and Rhaena, told you the freespot in the Arts school was filled with someone else other than Alys

She didn’t get the job! you could breathe easily now.

And your ankle had finally healed

That day, Sara came back from classes with snacks and face masks to celebrate, and you placed a green goo on your face as you watched movies as you snacked happily

You hair in a messy hairdo, pajamas at six o’clock, and a green facial mask in your face, the both of you, and you believed it was a good idea to answer the door to whomever was knocking, asking him to come in

It was Cregan

“Why everytime I see you I have something on my face?”, you asked, now feeling embarrassed

He looked at the both of you watching a funny movie with an entertained look on his face

“Hey you”, he greeted, “Now that it's been two weeks since your little accident, I was wondering if you wanna’ catch the last week of Arthur Deyne’s screening”, your face lit up, not that he could see it, because of the the green goo

“I’d love to”, you whispered

“Tomorrow at five?”, he asked, you nodded

“You came all this way to ask her?”, teased Sara, he just looked like she struck him on the face, “all across campus?”, you thought about cleaning your face with your pillow but that would be even more strange

“Well, uh, no I just… didn’t have her number”,

“Well… we can easily fix that, can’t we?”, she asked, as she typed on her phone, “there it is weirdo”

“Alright… “, he chuckled, he then looked at you, “see you tomorrow”

“See you”, you whispered, he waved awkwardly, and left. Sara turned to you with a silly grin on her face

“Nop, no”, you said

“You have a date with my brother!!!!”, she screeched

“NO”, you sentenced

“You do!”

“We are only watching a movie”, you muttered, standing up from the bed, you needed to wash your face

“(Y/N and Cregan… sitting in a tree…”, she forgot the lyrics of the song, and she opened her mouth in thought, “.... kissing!”

“Very original!”, you teased

“You are going to be so cute together, my roomie with my brother”

“Sara…. I don’t know…”, you muttered

“Yes!”

“Oh I don’t want to be that girl”, you whined with teasing smile, Sara cackled

“You won’t!”, she said

“I don’t want to ruin this!”, you said, pointing at her and then at yourself, “I love you Sara, you are my friend, I don’t want to lose you over a boy!”

“You won’t!”, she laughed, “Cregan is not like that! she is actually a very decent man”

“I chose a man over a friend once, and I don’t want to do that again!”, you tried to reason

“And I’m telling you that you won’t have to!”, she insisted, “my brother is a genuinely nice guy and I promise you that if it works out it's going to be amazing, and if it doesn't… it will end gracefully, and we won’t have to separate because it didn’t work out!”, she explained

“I don’t even know if he wants to…!”

“He does!”, she said, giggling, you sighed

“Let’s see, alright?”, you said, not that convinced. You liked Cregan, you did. but it felt strange, you remembered what it was like when you liked someone, had a crush, your stomach flipped, butterflies inside, you start to feel nervous, to say something foolish, or do something, the expectation running high, you wanted him to notice you

Is he looking at me?

Does he think I'm pretty? smart? funny? nice?

When you saw Cregan it wasn't like that, you felt calm, some sort of relief, like you were glad he had arrived

The problem started when you believed or thought about doing something else

Even thinking about being with someone, or going on a date, or being intimate, made your skin crawl, your stomach made summersaults

But he was so nice, a normal guy, would he… wait for you? would he mind spending time with you expecting… nothing, in return?

“Alright let’s finish the movie”, she said, seeing that you got lost in your thoughts

You didn’t even get to do that, and your phone dinged

Hey, it’s Cregan 😊

Hey - you texted back -

So now you have my number…

Indeed, I’m excited about the movie tomorrow - you texted easily, looking over at Sara who was just too distracted to notice, you didn’t want to hide from her, but you certainly didn’t want her to build up her expectations

Mee too, they say is the best one yet! - he texted quite quickly

Do you want to meet up at the cinema? I will need directions though haha - you said cheekily

I’ll meet you in your dorm and then we can take a bus or sm, don’t worry, I’ll guide you ;)

“Great! 4:30 then? it sounds silly but I like to watch the trailers for the upcoming movies

It doesn’t sound silly, I like to watch them too - you smiled warmly

Oh great! - you teased - you are shaping up to be a hell of a good movie partner -. were you going too far? you felt nervous

Well, let’s see how you like the popcorn - he texted with a blushing smiley face

Sweet, with M&M’s in them

Really? never tried them - well at least he didn’t say no at the gate… like Aemond..,

You had to stop that right now

You couldn’t compare

Never

You are missing out, but how do you like your popcorn? - you asked him

Sweet too, See? we were made to watch movies together haha - that text made you feel so nervous, but good nervous

Well, yes, I completely believe in movie soulmates - you texted with a small giggle

Sara leaned in and shrieked in your ear

“I wanna’ wear emerald green in my maid of honor dress”

“Very funny”, you mocked, she smiled widely

You were so determined to not make it look like a date, that you dressed in jeans, a nice shirt, but a hoodie over it, and a big jacket and beanie, it was still very cold outside, and a pair of boots, you did payed attention to your face in more detail, putting some makeup on, nothing very fancy…

“you look lovely”, Sara teased, “you just text me a winky face if you are not coming back at night ok?”, she kept teasing, but she finally let you go to meet Cregan outside

There he was

Dressed in a Maroon color henley, leather jacket, jeans, and urban black sneakers, he even wore a thin scarf and a beanie of his own. When he saw you, he smiled, and you just then

Felt something fluttering inside your belly

“Hey”, you greeted, but then you got all serious, “Arthur”, you called, and he smiled

“Winston”, he said back, all serious, like Arthur Deyne called the owner of the mafia hotel in the movie

You giggled as he leaned in and kissed your cheek in greeting

“Ready?”, he asked

“Can’t wait”, you teased

“I think if its a good idea we take the Trolly art”

“You still hae trolleys?”, you asked all excited, he laughed

“Yes, we needed to help defrosting as much as we could as a state so we brought back all the goods”

“I love that”, you started walking out of campus in a comfortable silence, you haven’t been out in the town much, you needed to see the capital of the North

Contrary to the State of the Crownlands, the cities of the North were smaller, but there were more of them, king’s Landing was the biggest city, and then the others were small towns all around, but in the North, all cities stayed and grow in similar rates, so Winter’s Town wasn’t a metropolis, still held that beautiful and quiet town feeling…

The snow still lingered as you watched the well and softly lighten streets

“Winter’s Town is so beautiful”, you look up at him, who was taller than you, and catched him looking back at you, and smiled warmly

“i can see it”, he whispered, “your face says it all”, you chuckled, embarrassed

“What face?”, you mocked

“Your face of wonder and marvel”, he said back, you giggled, feeling again the butterflies

You arrived at the small station and soon enough the Trolley passed, you climbed up and led you to the center of the Town, as Cregan stated the small cinema was

And when you got there… It looked like the one from an old movie, preserved since it was built many years ago. Even though it was Friday, it was mostly empty, because probably it was the last week of screening, the movie had premiered a month ago

“Do you wanna get the tickets and I’ll get the snacks?”, you asked

“Sure thing”

Was this a date? you didn’t want to make it look like one, you didn’t want to think it was… so you went for the snacks, even though bought the “couples” combo, big popcorns and two sodas… you didn't get the M&M’s, there wasn’t any at the concession stand. And as you were going to struggle to grab it all in only two hand, Cregan met you there, taking the sodas off your hands

“Got them”, he said calmly

“Thanks”, you whispered, you smiled at each other, every little interaction about him and you felt like something meaningful, everytime you looked into his eyes made you believe this meant something for him, and in a second, you found yourself wanted this to be a real date

You started to walk to the screening room

“I brought you something”, he whispered, juggling with both sodas to take something out of his jacket pocket

You gasped when he offered you a huge package of M&M’s

“You remembered”, you said

“Of course I did, I was so curious to try it and I remembered the cinema doesn't’ sell them”

“Good job Arthur”, you teased

“Anytime Winston”

The movie… was incredible

Not romantic by any means, so you didn't have much instances to lean into Cregan or him to lean into you, not that you expected it, but you were still a bit nervous, but you jumped and gasped together and complimented the actions sequences, and he devoured your favorite snack as much as you did

And you cried at the end and he surrounded your shoulders with his arm to comfort you.

When it ended, you both couldn’t stop talking.. you talked and talked and kept talking, about the movie itself, about the ones before, about which one was your favorite, you talked so much, neither of you wanted the night to end, and when you reached the trolly stop, you looked at eachother expectantly

“Want to walk?”, you asked, and he nodded enthusiastically

The campus was near, but like half an hour walking, but you kept talking, and when you shivered he offered you his arms and you coiled yours with him and he dragged you near him, so you could get warmer together.

And then the heat of the movie died down, and the talk became more personal

“Did you always want to come up here for school?”, he asked

“Well, I was like sixteen when I realize what I wanted to study, so I discovered this school of design was the greatest, and, we were ebay friends with Jace, and we both agreed we were going to come here together, to fly off the nest”, you told him, “an adventure”

“And what took you a semester?”, he asked lightly, he probably knew trough Jace, but you appreciated that he wanted to know trough you

“Well, I had a boyfriend”, you answered with a shy smile, “he convinced me to follow him Dragonstone U, and… well… “, he knew, he had known about Alys, so… “I decided to take a leap of faith and have trust in us and our future, it didn’t work out”

“I’m sorry”, no he wasn't but you didn't know that

“Well, I’m just relieved it happened so early on, and not two years into the future, you know?”, you asked, smiling, he chuckled

“Oh yeah, I get it”, he said, “do you still talk to him?”

“Oh no”, you said, “never saw him or heard from him since last semester”, that by now, it was like two months ago.

“And you are happy you followed your dreams?”, he asked, and when you looked up at him, you saw something in his eyes…

No… this wasn’t a date, he wasn’t that into you, he just wanted to see the movie, he just wants to add you to the friend group

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt as happy as I am now”, you confessed, “this is everything I’ve dreamed of and more”, you said, “Even if they say the first year is the most difficult one, I love the career, and I’m so happy to have Jace back in my life, and I’m happy I met you, and Sara, and Ben, and reconnected with Baela and Rhaena…”

“I’m glad, and I’m more glad I’m part of that dream”, he teased and as you looked at him, he winked, you laughed

“Did you ever know you were going to study business administration here?”, you asked

“Yes I did actually, completely predictable”

“You never thought about going South?”

“Well, when I was underage, it was more difficult for me”, he said

“Why?”

“My parents passed when I was twelve, and my uncle wouldn’t let me out of his sight”, he said

“I’m sorry”, you whispered

“It’s alright, i’m glad he had me stay here”, he said, “this is my home, and I will have plenty of time to travel once I finish my studies”

“You are right”, you said

“What about your parents?”, he asked

“They are also gone”, you said back, “I was ten”

“I’m sorry”

“Is fine, I have my godmother who took me as her own”, you offered with a wide smile, “I love her”

“She sounds lovely”

“She is”, you said back. And you chit chatted all the way back to campus, and when you finally arrived back, you didn't want to part ways, but it was already late to go eat something, and you were running out of time, you really didn't want to

And then you were in front of your dorm, and you didn't want to part ways from him, and he didn’t either, you could tell… you looked at each other expectantly.

“It's late but… I think the tavern is still open for an hour or so… would you like to…?”, and then something caught his attention over your, you looked at him and then you turn to look too.

A beautiful girl was walking your way

blonde, sharp blue eyes, dressed in a puffy pink jacket and white wool knitted beanie, jeans and fluffy boots

“Arra?”, asked Cregan, and when you looked back at him, he look like a child had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar

“Cregan, I was looking for you”, she said softly, looking at you but then completely ignoring you

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you”

“I’m busy”, he said defensively, and suddenly, you felt like you were playing the third wheel

“It’s alright”, you said, “we can raincheck”

“Yes you can raincheck”, she muttered urgently. Cregan sighed, and looked at you with puppy eyes

“You are not staying?”, he asked her, “in town?”

“I’m staying with Alyssa, but no, I’m just here for the weekend”

“Then you should talk”, you said, and something inside you didn't like it

“Raincheck on the tavern?”, he asked you, and you smiled and nodded, he leaned in and hugged you, you hugged him back

He waited for you until you reached the glass doors of the dorms, you looked back and the blond had approached him,he looked annoyed

And now you were more annoyed, as you find yourself wanting this to have been a date.

You arrived back in the dorm and Sara was sleeping, a thing you appreciated and sneakily took your clothes off and got inside the bed, it was cold…

You grabbed your phone, questioning yourself…

Aemond haven't reached out

Well… You had blocked Aemond, his brother Aegon from instagram, (not that he would contact you) and unfollowed all your common friends, more like, his friends from college who he made you hang with… because you couldn’t bare to see him, and you truly believed that if you saw even a glimpse of him, you would get a panic attack. So maybe that’s why you haven’t heard from him again

Even though he had a huge ego, you found it weird he didn't even reach out to curse you or tell you how bad of a person he thought you were.

And that is when you decided to check your mail, the spam box

And oh there they were

Hundreds of emails

Of another account, but it was clearly him

Even reading the titles you saw his own journey of mourning your relationship…

Denial

“...Maris said you left, and I don’t believe you would do something like this…”

Anger

“...It’s alright, really, now I see how selfish and short sighted you really are…”, he even dared mentioned Alys in that one, the audacity

Bargaining

“...The baby isn’t even mine, that whore lied to me…”, that one you read, Alys tried to baby trap him, and he made her do the Amnio, which was a very dangerous DNA test, and it turned out it wasn’t even his

Depression

“...I can’t believe I lost you, and I'm begging you to give me another chance…together we could rule the seven states…”

And Acceptance never came

You thought long and hard about it… now that you had time to cool off…

No, the anger was still there, and you couldn’t forgive him, not ever, he was a nineteen year old man, yes she was older, but he wasn’t a kid, he knew exactly was he was doing, besides, you were not compatible anymore… he dind’t make you happy any longer, and it took you to see him fucking another woman to realise it

No aspect of your relationship was making you happy

Only the praxis was left

You had made the right decision, even though you did feel like you had things left unsaid, in a relationship that had meant so much for you and your families, since you knew each other since forever…

But coming back to the present...

Who was that girl? they clearly had unfinished business, but before that, has it been a date? did you wanted it to be? he had been so thoughtful and kind... you liked him!

Gods you were confused

taglist! <3

@mxtokko@princesssterek @thefandomimagines @iamavailablesstuff @misspascalpunk @sweethoneyblossom1 @ipostwhtifeel @lunamoonbby @ahristata @watercolorskyy @yazzzmints @n4tforlife @littleshadow17 @alexa4040 @speedyballoonpainter @hc-geralt-23 @rayrayredpanda @eralen @yentroucnagol @valeskafics @iloveallmyboys @speedyballoonpainter

#misguidedneed #cregan stark x reader #cregan #cregan x y/n #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #house targaryen #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction

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gavalaa · 7 months

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Sketches of all my redone designs for my Phantom Thieves from my AU, Icarus! Lots of info down below on the cut, so if you want to know more about the details and inspiration, feel free to keep reading!

This includes Akechi’s design for his Princely/Robin Hood attire, BEFORE his Icarus attire you might have seen from my other posts! Check out the Icarus AU tag for more info! Icarus has a main focus on Akechi and his relationship to the thieves, but the AU is actually an entire rewrite with new designs, 3rd semester and epilogue/strikers/tactica stories, hence Zenkichi and Sophia’s inclusion.

Read below for individual info:

I decided to include more motifs towards their persona’s and general vibes; and also just my own personal touches haha.

AKIRA - Not much has changed, I really like his design overall. I raised his boots to be like Arsene’s and changed his neck area.

MORGANA - I hate the OG pill shaped head, his new design is based heavily on the shape of Palico’s from Monster Hunter. Added a little more nod to Zorro/His persona motifs and also just made him cuter! Little hamburger headed cat.

RYUJI - I made him a little bulkier and gave some more weight to his outfit overall. I gave him heavier boots and a slightly buffer build to relate back more to his sporty style.

ANN - honestly was never too big on her latex outfit, I wanted to call back to a personal favorite female lead; Christine Daae, and used one of the versions of her Don Juan costume as inspiration. I remember seeing Phantom live and in many stage versions of her character, the Don Juan scene was a pure moment of female control, and she was truly working the Phantom and controlling every movement on the stage. Her presence is commanding, and I thought it was a very fitting tribute to Ann’s character as feminine strength. (I’m absolutely not referring to the movie iteration of Daae btw.)

YUSUKE - I referred to some historical art and legend of Goemon to add more elements of design to his outfit. When I color them, I want to add some really strong pops of color to his clothing to really drive the aesthetics and artistry home.

MAKOTO - Another totally redid outfit, I opted to give her a design which relates back to Popess Joan, and also Anat. I gave her a clawed hand on her right side and an uncovered hand on her left as both a nod to Anat’s hand raised in iconography of her from art history, but also to show the duality of Anat’s title as both a goddess of war, and of love. It also relates to the mythology of Joan and her nature as both a leader and a martyr. I changed her mask to a Venetian Commedia mask as well.

FUTABA - ok. I’ll be honest. I never liked her skin-tight outfit, it just doesn’t match her personality at all. Also, the high tech Egyptian feel never really sold me. I totally understand the tomb thing, but I truthfully think a dungeon/palace which was more like… tech/nerd themed would have been much more “futaba” the inspiration for this new outfit relates back to her persona, the Necromomicon, as well as her nerdy personality, and her affiliation as Alibaba (Ali Baba.) I wanted to go more lovecraftian, long sleeves and patterning designed to look more like lovecraftian tendrils, and big baggy pants and her classic shoes to match. The patterning on her undershirt will resemble a rib cage, both as a reference to her deathly “tomb” iconography, but also to Lovecraftian and Necronomicon lore. I think she matches the description of a nerdy, techie DND dungeon master more than the initial outfit, so that’s the route I took personally.

HARU - relating back to some fashions from 17th c France, where Milady’s story (the three musketeers) takes place, I kept her design relatively similar. I just gave her a little more iconography relating to the three musketeers and that general timeframe.

AKECHI - in his pre-Icarus outfit, I’ve given him a princely sort of outfit befitting of his two faced nature, and edited it to relate to Robin Hood a little more. I tried to keep it sleek and just generally very concealing and layered.

SUMIRE - i gave her some iconography relating back to one of her personas, who is an inference to Freya. I also included some more nods to classic Cinderella, with fantasy gown elements. Overall, relatively similar.

ZENKICHI - again, relatively similar, I really like his outfit. I just opened up the face some to show more personality and spiced up the outfit generally to keep it matching. honestly, les mis/Valjean was a hard one, but I also think his character could be heavily related back to Edmond Dante (Monte Cristo.) so I gave some nods to that as well.

SOPHIA - I turned her into a FINGIE!!!! I made her whole dress as a nod to her persona/to pandora’s tiles around her/the pillars. I wanted to make her small and almost unnatural since she’s an AI, and I thought having a little guy on the team would add some more variation.

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welldonekhushi · 2 months

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Call of Duty OC: Samantha "Scarlet" Wright 🦋

Finally, after ages, I came up with Scarlet's biography sheet! So in case you guys are curious about her, you can go through this post, hope it helps! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

If you want to see any artwork or fics on her, go to the #samantha scarlet wright tag for her content!

GENERAL

Name: Samantha

Full name: Samantha Wright

Codename: "Scarlet", Hotel Two-Six

Age: 29 years old

Gender: Female

Nationality: British (UK)

Languages spoken: English (native), Arabic (conventionally), Russian (for intelligence purposes)

Date of Birth: June 9, 1984

Place of Birth: Cambridge, England

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Martial Status: Single (married in 2017 to John "Soap" MacTavish, her childhood friend — diverging canon AU)

Occupation: British SAS (Special Air Services), member of the Task Force 141

Status: Active

Rank: Sergeant

Universe: Original timeline (2011-2017), reboot (alternative AU)

Faceclaim: Jenna Coleman

AFFILIATIONS:

Song: Tangled Up by Caro Emerald (Lokee Remix)

youtube

Biography: Samantha Wright, under the codename "Scarlet" followed her dream in joining the most elite forces of the British Army, after hearing about her father's experiences in the military. As her hard work pays off, she finally gets selected for the SAS, and then for the Task Force 141, for her skills and strength. There, she meets a very old friend, that she missed and deeply cared for..

Task Force 141

Captain John Price

John "Soap" MacTavish

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Hannah "Sparrow" Clayton (@revnah1406)

Sergeant Annabelle "Kit" Pham (@applbottmjeens)

Charlotte "Jade" La Jardin (@sleepyconfusedpotato)

Joyce "Joe" Hardman (@mctvsh)

2nd Commando Regiment (@kaitaiga)

Sergeant Damien Whitlock

Captain Lachlan Jones

Los Vaqueros

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Alyssa "Aly" Martinez (@alypink)

SKILLS AND ABILITIES

Weapon induced: M4A1 Carbine, M4A1 Grenadier w/ Red Dot Sight, M14 EBR Scoped

Fighting style: Hand-to-hand-combat, martial arts, a bit of jiu-jitsu

Special skills: Has good agility, wits and strength from intensive physical and mental training.

Talents: Is able to strategise a plan for greater impact.

Shortcomings: Is a bit sensitive and confused when it comes to choosing a decision which leads to life or death.

PERSONALITY

Myers-Briggs Type: ISFP (The Adventurer)

Is a positive presence among everybody: Yes, a soldier sure is a tough-hard individual who is determined to follow their duty, but Scarlet is the opposite. She maintains her duties and also motivates and cheers others up to keep moving and never surrender, as taught by her father. The reason why others notice when Scarlet is present with them, they feel calm and encouraged.

Emotional, but also dangerous: Sure Scarlet looks like she's a sweet presence among everyone, but at the same time, we shall not forget she's SAS-trained. When things get serious, she gets serious. During some missions (1 and 2), she has shown remarkable strength and courage by eliminating enemy soldiers in combat, as if she's a different person. The cheerful presence Scarlet holds among others has another dark side inside that she never reveals, but towards her enemies.

Can indulge with anyone, and is respectful: She'd love to make friends or teammates! It doesn't mean she doesn't give importance to anyone, but she especially bonds a lot with Soap. They two have been childhood friends since the start and everyone notices how close they both are and thinks if they two are a couple. Even if Soap is her best friend and he has a superior rank, she'd still respect him as her Captain. But sure, personally, they two engage like they used to.

Very empathetic: Whether it's a random person or not who is dying in her arms, it breaks her. It happened once when she tried to save a person who was losing their life and in the end they couldn't make it. It makes her want to blame herself a bit, thinking she didn't do her duty right, even if everything wasn't in her power. Also, if she sees anyone in distress, she's able to console and help them in time of need, the reason why Scarlet is able to sympathise and understand others well.

BACKGROUND STORY

Born as Samantha Wright, she lives in a small town in England with her father, Albert Wright, who is a former SAS-soldier under the codename "Bolt", and mother Elizabeth. When Scarlet was a toddler, she used to hear stories from her father about him working in Special Air Services, an elite special forces unit, and retired the day when his one leg was brutally injured that made him unable to walk or run.

Those stories gave Scarlet an idea to also join the SAS like him, but her father chuckled and said that right now she was too young to do so. Sometime later, she met John MacTavish, who recently moved into her neighbourhood from Scotland, but wasn't happy that he shifted away from his homeland. She wanted John to be her friend, and make him familiar with the surroundings so he'll get used to everything and love staying at his new home. And soon, they two grew closer, and became best friends.

They two had a similar goal — to join the defense. And one day, that day had to come between the two, when John had to leave for military school. Bidding her best friend a bittersweet farewell, unsure what future has for them in between, John encouraged her to follow her dreams. Taking that as a motivation, Scarlet kept John close to heart, while continuing her aspiration to join the SAS.

Her father got to know about her plan, saying that it won't be easy, since the SAS had the toughest selection processes. That sure unsettled her for a while, but didn't make her back off from her decision respectively. Instead, she learnt a couple of exercises, tips and tricks on self-defense from him that mentally and physically prepared her fully at the same time.

When she recruited herself in the selection process, it was an absolutely different experience for her. The way her mind drastically changed during the training quite traumatized and scared her, knowing what it feels to be in the SAS. But, keeping her father's words by her side, she didn't let the weakness and fear sink her in and moved on further. At times, she was ridiculed by others that she'd never be able to complete the process, but chuckled it all out instead.

The day came, when her hard work paid off, and she finally became eligible for the special forces. It was a blessed feeling for her, as if luck always stood by her side. And this is where, her journey begins..

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huramuna · 6 months

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the calico bastard - chapter 3.

aemond targaryen x strong bastard oc (series) previous part | next part

summary: After his takeover of Harrenhal, Aemond encounters a dreamy-eyed, wistful bastard of House Strong, who piques his interest and changes the course of Westerosi history.

warnings: smut (eventually), angst, canon typical violence, canon typical misogyny, depictions & descriptions of death

wordcount: 3.4k

a/n: alys rivers doesn’t exist in this universe, alysanne takes her place somewhat. a/n 2: this is my first fic, i got the courage to post it -- please be nice n' leave a like if this interests you!

art by me of alysanne • an edit by me of alysanne as a child • aesthetic board

wuthering heights - kate bush • leave me for dead - GAYLE

Alysanne didn’t get much sleep that night, not after what she’d seen— the future and the present.

She paced around her small room until the light trickled from the horizon. Aemond’s harrowing screams echoed in her ears, her chest heaving and falling.

There had only been one time before she had such a violent vision.

It was eight years before— Alysanne was only ten years of age, just an unloved bastard girl of Harrenhal.

Except, she had one who loved her. The only one.

“Pick me up, pick me up!” Alysanne cried gleefully, “Breakthbonthes, pick me up!” she held her arms up, her words whistling through the gap in her baby teeth— she’d yet to lose those last few teeth right at the front, causing an admittedly quite silly lisp.

Ser Harwin Strong— her brother, or half-brother as it may be, had returned to Harrenhal after a long time away.

Her father, too, had returned— but Alysanne could care less, they were indifferent to one another.

But Harwin— Harwin was hers, her brother, the only person to ever treat her like a person, like she wasn’t lesser.

She ran on bare feet out to the gates, jumping and waving her arms as she saw the procession arrive. The little girl would recognize the curly mop and mountainous build of her brother anywhere.

“Ah, my little lilac!” Harwin boomed from atop his horse, spurring the stallion into the gates, “By the Seven, Alysanne, you’ve grown.”

“The maesther says I’m too schmall for my age,” she grumbled, kicking up dirt.

“Ahh, and what does he know, anyhow?” Harwin grinned, dismounting his horse and leaving the reins to the stablehand. “The poor sod can hardly see past those caterpillars of eyebrows atop his head, eh?”

Alysanne giggled, putting her arms up once more, “Please pick me up— wanna be thall… t-tall,” she tried to correct, spitting a bit through her gapped teeth.

Harwin chuckled— it was a rich, soothing sound. His whole body seemed to erupt with the joy he brought as he laughed, like a deep and generous clap of thunder before the skies opened up.

Alysanne felt her heart rattle around in her chest at the noise.

“Let me get this heavy armor off, lilac,” he hummed, “C’mon, tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

Alysanne skipped and hopped alongside Harwin as they walked through the courtyard, where he left his armor at the smith to be polished. She babbled on about the books she read, the birds she saw, and any innocuous thing she could conjure up.

Each thing, no matter how small, boring, or insignificant it may be, Harwin would respond, whether in agreement, asking a question, anything at all— anything to make Alysanne feel special.

“Alright— c’mere, little lilac,” Harwin finally acquiesced, kneeling down slightly.

Alysanne squealed in delight as he ran into his arms— only to be met with darkness.

A cold, withering darkness. Usually, being encapsulated by Harwin was warm— warm and bright, like the sunniest summer day.

But she felt cold— cold like the North was, colder than anything she felt before, like after a flame had been extinguished.

Then, her vision went red— red, orange, yellow, crackling fire— warm, warm, too warm. Hot, hot— it was smoldering, she was screaming, feeling the skin melt from her bones and char into ash— and she wasn’t the only one screaming.

She heard the cries of men— two very familiar to her—

Harwin, Harwin— open the door, open the door, brother, please! She screamed and clawed at the door until it melted before her into glowing lava, sizzling at her feet— and behind it, Harwin— his hand on the knob, no, fused to the knob.

His hand wasn’t attached, snapped off like a charred piece of firewood, his body strewn across the floor. His face peeled from the muscle and sinew, popping and blistering against the heat. His mouth, now just a hole, was twisted into an everlasting scream—

And then she was back. Back to the warmth and brightness of Harwin’s arms. He was shaking her softly, jostling her shoulder as a small crowd was gathered.

“Alysanne,” he murmured frantically, “Alysanne, wake up, my girl.”

Her eyes fluttered open, filled with tears— they rolled down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a whimpering sob came out.

“Shh, don’t speak, it's okay,” he cooed, turning her away from the prying eyes of the crowd, “I’ve got you.”

Ser Harwin Strong and his father, Lord Lyonel Strong, perished that same night in a fire— a supposed accident.

But Alysanne— she had known. She saw it, and had said nothing. She hears Harwin’s ghost muttering to her at times, his warm and gentle voice now saddened by ash and smoke.

She contemplated her life for days, months and years after— she had lost the only family she had— and she could’ve stopped it.

Since then, she relented from touching people or being touched. She never wanted to have that power— she didn’t want to see their deaths, hear their screams and have their ghosts linger in her head for the rest of her life.

Now, after seeing Aemond’s supposed death, she felt a responsibility to change it— not for herself, not for Aemond— but for Harwin. For what she could’ve done, should’ve done.

She wiped an errant tear from her cheek as she dressed for the day. She forwent the corset— damn the thing— and dressed in another kirtle, a paisley color.

Her hands moved deftly as she tied her curly hair up into two braids— nothing like Flora and Beth had done— but it did the job nonetheless.

The rest of the keep wasn’t awake yet— or so she had thought. She walked out in the courtyard barefoot, as usual, and found it odd as she heard another pair of feet crunching gravel near her.

Turning around, she came face to face with Aemond. He looked… exhausted.

His brow perked, “What are you doing up this early?” he asked as he kept walking, a nod of his head in indication that he wished for her to follow.

She let out a sniff, “I’m always awake,” she grumbled, “I need to tend to Banshee.” she trotted alongside Aemond, her short legs having to work double time to keep up with his long legged strides.

“‘Banshee’? I know that Harrenhal has its fair share of ghosts, but I haven’t heard the wail of a banshee yet— and even so, how does one tend to a Banshee?” he prodded, putting on a pair of leather gloves as they walked.

“… Banshee isn’t a ghost,” Alysanne said, a slight tinge of annoyance lacing her voice, “Banshee is my horse.”

They stopped at the stable, which now housed more horses than usual on account of the soldier’s occupation. Alysanne slunk to the last paddock, which was in truth, not in good shape. It had its fair share of bite marks and hoof prints.

Aemond watched as the strange little bastard lady stood on her tippy toes, clicking her tongue and holding out her hand over the top of the stall door.

A rumbling snort was heard before an absolutely monstrous horse head dipped over the door. It had a gray spotted snout and a neatly trimmed forelock and mane.

Alysanne hummed as she undid the lock and led out Banshee. He was a ginormous draught horse, built purely of muscle and power. He had a light gray coat with black dapples— as well as some long feathering near his hooves. He was easily taller than Aemond by a foot.

The gelding let out a snort as he looked at Aemond, then turned his focus back to Alysanne, nuzzling the top of her head, earning a small giggle from her.

Aemond Targaryen, rider of the largest dragon in the world, was slightly aghast at the size of this horse. He exhaled, “That has to be the biggest fucking horse I’ve ever seen,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. He looked back and forth between Alysanne and Banshee, “How do you even get on his back?”

Alysanne looked at Aemond, slightly bewildered, “You ride Vhagar— how do you get on her back?” she countered as she led Banshee out into the courtyard.

Aemond, fascinated by Alysanne and her monster horse, followed, “Well— a fair bit of climbing, and she has some rope rigging around her saddle.”

Alysanne pat Banshee on his neck— at least, as far as she could reach. “Well, think of Banshee as a small Vhagar,” she hummed, “It isn’t graceful, but a fair bit of climbing,” she mimicked his tone, “does the job.”

The prince was slightly amused by this. “Well then— go on,” he pressed, “Let’s see how the bastard fares getting atop her horse.”

Alysanne let out something of a growl or a grumble in annoyance, clicking her tongue after. Banshee lowered himself slightly, to a point where she could snag onto his mane and scramble up his neck, sliding down onto his back. It was hardly graceful, and was comparable to how a bat scrambles upon walls before taking flight.

“No saddle? Reins?” he questioned further.

Alysanne cocked her head, “No?” she snorted, as if it was the silliest question she’d ever heard.

The prince pinched his brow in what seemed to be frustration, “How silly of me— you don’t even wear shoes, of course you’d ride your beast without the proper tack.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything further. She murmured something to Banshee, who let out a whinny and began his walk— it was slow and bumpy, but Alysanne kept her composure.

“Be here when I return, girl,” Aemond said before they got out of earshot, “I’ll have need of you.”

Her brow furrowed. Need of her? For what? And where was he going?

Alysanne and Banshee’s leisurely walk turned into a relaxed trot as they exited the gates of Harrenhal. They were half a mile away from the ancient castle before a thunderous roar was heard, and the rising sun was eclipsed by the gargantuan green beast known as Vhagar.

Alysanne scratched Banshee as he got a bit fidgety as the dragon flew low in the sky, just above the treeline. “S’okay, my sweet boy,” she hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck as far as she could reach, “You won’t die by a dragon— I’ve seen it.”

As Vhagar began to disappear from sight, something clicked in Alysanne’s head. The dragon was riding towards the God’s Eye— which meant Aemond was as well.

It… it felt like too soon— no, the battle couldn’t be today— but she had seen Harwin’s death just hours before it happened…

She spurred Banshee into a full on gallop, pressing low to his back to hold on, “Please, please,” she whimpered, tears already forming in her eyes.

As they approached the shore of the God’s Eye, she looked around, scanning the sky for any sign of the bloodwyrm— or even Vhagar.

She slid off of Banshee’s back, letting him graze as she walked the pebbled beach of the lake. She paced back and forth until it was high noon, the sun rising in the sky to its apex.

A few more hours passed until late afternoon, the sun beginning its descent back towards the earth. A temporary eclipse of Vhagar returning had Alysanne giving a small breath of relief— until the giant dragon turned, lowering down to find a spot to land.

Banshee strayed near the woodline, as far from the dragon as possible— Alysanne shared his unease, a deep pit settling in her gut.

She ground her teeth as she approached the landing dragon, the powerful flaps of her wings actually causing Alysanne to fall over— which apparently earned a laugh from Aemond— a laugh? When had she heard him actually laugh?

Watching as he gracefully slid from Vhagar’s saddle, not before unstrapping himself (earning Alysanne a breath), she got back to her feet, dusting off her dress.

“I thought I spotted that elephant horse of yours,” he called out, walking towards her.

She shrunk back, “What do you want?”

As he got closer, his expression became more visible. He seemed… lighter. More elated. His hair was swept back from the wind and his mouth was crinkled in a small grin— not that of a predator like usual, but like that of someone who was… joyous?

It was a difference of night and day— his pained anguish the night before, and his almost boyish demeanor now.

It confused Alysanne— she hadn’t accounted for this, such a strong change in emotion from him. It settled the pit in her stomach ever so slightly.

“What do I want?” he repeated with a questioning tone, “Nothing— I merely wished to see if your beast had bucked you off yet.” he stopped a few feet away from her, not getting too close. His arms were behind his back in their usual resting position. It seemed as if he was respecting her boundaries.

“Banshee wouldn’t— not to me, atleast,” she picked up a smooth stone from below her idly, rolling it around in her palm, “He’s a killer, you know.”

“A killer, hm?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, “Stomped in a few men’s heads over the years— ones that tried to ride him, besides me.”

Aemond’s lip curled slightly, “Seems he’s bonded with you as his sole rider, then. Dragons are much the same. They get to choose who they bond with— test their mettle, and find them worthy.”

Alysanne looked towards him as they conversed— they began walking around the shore near each other and she hadn’t even noticed. He still kept his distance, to which she was grateful. “Vhagar finds you worthy,” she commented, “It must be an honor.”

Aemond picked up a rock as well, weighing it in his palm, “It is. It’s the highest honor of any Targaryen’s life— to be chosen by a dragon.”

She stopped at the lapping waves, dipping her feet in the water. With a swift movement of her hand, she sent the stone skidding across the surface. Once, twice, thrice.

A few moments later, Aemond did the same. Once, twice, thrice.

Alysanne gave a lopsided smile at that as she straightened back up. She felt at ease— like a leaf on a cooling breeze. Not only at ease, she felt brave.

Slowly, she lifted her head, taking in the features of Aemond’s face before landing on his eye— which looked right back at her.

She felt a rattling in her chest— like a caged bird flapping and ricocheting against her bones. A strange heat came to her cheeks. “We make up one pair of violet eyes, you and I,” she murmured suddenly, “One lilac between each of us…” she stared at his remaining eye, to which he stared back at her one, paired with the rich, earthy brown of her other eye.

His brow furrowed momentarily, “An interesting observation,” he picked up another rock and skipped it across the waves, “You remind me of someone, you know. My sister— Helaena, her grace, the queen,” he whispered, his voice taking on a softer note, “I feel like you two would have much to talk about.”

“I’ve heard she is fond of insects,” Alysanne answered, walking from the shore to the grass, where she began picking plants from the soil, seemingly with purpose, “I quite like a good moth myself. They liken themselves to have false eyes on their wings, so they do not have to stare down predators.”

Aemond didn’t comment— he just watched her pick plants.

“Herbs,” she said, as if feeling his questioning stare on her back, “For my medicines.”

“I didn’t know you were a maester as well as a bastard,” he said– more likely than not with a smug grin on his face.

“I may be odd in appearance, but you must be blind in both eyes if you think I resemble a smelly, mean old man.” she quipped back.

He didn’t say anything more, just setting his jaw in a hard line. This earned Alysanne a satisfied smile– the bird had silenced the dragon.

In her joyful reverie, she went to pick a bundle of chamomile– but her hand plunged into a bush of stinging nettle. She let out a yelp like an injured animal, pulling her hand back and looking over it.

Apparently, her yelp had caused some concern from Aemond, who rushed over– he broke the boundary they had set, and even more, he reached out to her hand. “Let me see,” he grumbled.

“No, no–,” her cry was cut off as they touched, and her vision went black once more.

It was storming. Thunder rumbled the ancient stronghold– but they were not in Harrenhal. She couldn’t quite fixate where they were, until she heard the tumultuous crashing of waves against chiseled stone. Storm’s End– the seat of power for House Baratheon.

Why was she here– why… Aemond was here as well. He was stanced as usual, his hands behind his back.

Another boy was there, as well– brown, shaggy hair and brown eyes. Harwin? He looked like Harwin– he was turning away from Aemond, walking out.

“Wait,” Aemond called out, “My lord Strong,”

Strong? There were no more Strong Lords– and not a young boy like this. Who… was he? When was this?

“Did you really think you could fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother’s throne; at no cost?”

“I will not fight you– I came as a messenger, not a warrior,” the young boy spoke. Alysanne could see his body language– he was… afraid.

Aemond smirked, “A fight would be little challenge. No,” he said, putting his hand up to his eyepatch, taking off the leather and revealing his sapphire eye underneath, “I want you to put out your eye. It is payment for mine. One will serve,” the prince drew back his coat, throwing a dagger to the floor towards the boy, “I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

The boy shivered, falling into himself inwardly for just a moment– then he took a breath, puffing out his chest, “No.” he declared, staring Aemond down.

“So you are craven, as well as a traitor.” Aemond hummed for a moment, the sound of Lord Baratheon’s cries to stop drowned out from blood pumping in his ears– hers as well.

Alysanne felt his contempt, felt his rage– bubbling, boiling right under the surface, just like the Fourteen Flames of Valyria. The madness in him was palpable, threatening to break his bones and turn him into a beast hewn of scale and wrath and tear this ‘Lord Strong’ apart brick by brick.

She shivered; he truly was fire made flesh, an echo of a warrior long past– a god of War in his own right.

“Give me your eye! Or I will take it, bastard!” Aemond exploded, advancing on the little Lord Strong like a predator–

Then they were in the sky, Aemond chanting taunts atop Vhagar– words that Alysanne didn’t inherently understand, but she felt it– in her bones, rattling around her chest and stomach.

It was a chase– a game of cat and mouse– or dragon and dragon as it may be. But Alysanne knew it was nothing of fairness. What was fair in a dragon of War, named after the Goddess of War, chasing a hatchling just large enough to carry a young boy?

What was fair in that?

What was fair?

In her fairness, in her twisted justice– Vhagar’s massive jaws snapped the smaller dragon into pieces, along with Lord Strong, the remains of his existence scattered into the sea.

The rage of Aemond quelled– quelled into a dull ache. It was replaced by a new feeling, mayhaps one Aemond hadn’t felt before.

Guilt. Remorse.

Kinslayer. Accursed.

What had he done?

Her eyes opened– she wasn’t crying like usual, when she saw death. Usually it was impending death, something that perhaps she had a chance to change– but this… was the past, wasn’t it? Something she never could change, something that had already been lived and gone and was a done deal, sealed with the bow of death. She didn’t feel panicked, no– she felt hollow.

Aemond was holding her up again, cradling her like a delicate flower. He cleared his throat as he stared down at her. “What did you see?” he asked, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.

“Kinslayer.” she murmured in response, her voice broken.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #the calico bastard

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copperbadge · 5 months

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hi sam! do you have any recommendations for good sources of info for someone who'd like to learn more about cons and con artists? Any format is fine, books, podcasts, youtube, whatever, i'm just having a hard time finding a good source that really digs into and examines the actual techniques and 'mechanics' so to speak.

It is a little bit tough because of course most scammers are also self-embroidering liars :D And my education was very patchwork. For specifically cons and con artists (outside of art crime, which generally doesn't touch the con world directly) I'd advise starting with "Titanic Thompson: The Man Who Bet On Everything" by Kevin Cook, which is a biography of one of the early 20th century's most preeminent con men; it's a good tale but it also demonstrates the general life trajectory of con men, which can be pretty grim. Most cons end up in prison, and even those that don't or that get out tend to die poor and alone, because they can't stop scamming.

The Mark Inside by Amy Reading is one that I don't remember vividly but I did write a review of here, and I think it's another good starting place. (All the links following are to reviews I did.) If you've ever watched The Sting, which is a movie about con artists and also kind of a good primer, it's based on The Professional Thief by Edwin Sutherland, which is an anthropology of professional crime in the early 20th century. While technically it was written less by him than by an anonymous contact of his in the criminal underworld, that doesn't mean it's accurate per se; we only have that writer's word that any of it is true, so again, read skeptically.

I'd have to look up which piece it was because there's been a lot about her, but if you give Doris Payne a google she's another great example of a fascinating person who is just a giant liar. She paints a very vivid picture of her own career, but if you read about her later years you do realize that she's still conning everyone (she attempts to swindle at least one journalist working with her) and has nothing to show for her career, which may be a pack of lies to begin with. A lot of her stories have been fact checked and found wanting. I'd read up on the life of Victor Lustig as well; he's most famously known as the man who fraudulently sold the Eiffel Tower (twice) but I don't have a good biography offhand.

In your reading you will probably run across Han Van Meegeren, who forged Vermeers and ripped off the art world with them, then was tried for colluding with Nazis because he sold Nazis many "Vermeers" -- he had to paint a Vermeer while in prison to prove he'd forged the ones he sold the Nazis. This is a charming story but until very recently it was not widely noted that Van Meegeren was ABSOLUTELY A BIG NAZI HIMSELF. I was suckered by the story for years and I know most people were, so if you encounter media about him that does not include this fact, and you're interested in his story, look for newer scholarship.

There's a tangentially related book, "Where The Money Was" by Willie Sutton and Edward Linn, that is the semi-autobiography of a bank robber and it's very fun and funny, so despite not being directly about crime, I'd recommend that one.

The Napoleon Of Crime by Ben MacIntyre is a biography of the man who Moriarty was purportedly based on; it's sort of related rather than direct, but I recall enjoying it and there's a fascinating example of the VERY rare times when art heists are for a specific piece rather than for a specific goal.

There's a podcast called Scam Goddess that I found...enjoyable and informative, but also not very well-researched. In particular some of the earlier episodes are really poorly fact-checked. That said, she reads out letters from people writing in to discuss their scams and she talks about a lot of famous scam stories, so as long as you listen with the knowledge that she's neither a researcher nor an expert you should be okay.

Provenance by Laney Salisbury and Aly Sujo is what I'll close with, because it's about the interplay between art crime and con artistry, but it's also a strong argument for not valorizing cons; it's a documentation of how a couple of criminals out for nothing more than a quick buck really fucked up the entire system by which we authenticate art, and did insane levels of damage to genuine art scholarship. This isn't a little guy punching up against millionaire art collectors or fat cat museums, the way the narrative is often framed; art crime like this, involving forged or altered provenances, really harms art historians and the study of art.

I think the study of confidence crime and art crime is absolutely fascinating. There's a lot to learn about social engineering and society itself. But I think if I can impart to you one piece of wisdom, it's that con men are never, ever out for anyone but themselves and have no qualms or hesitations about hurting you to get what they want. The romance of con artistry often fools journalists and sophisticated researchers as well, so it's very easy to get swept up in it, but you should approach the entire genre with the attitude that everything you read has a 75% chance of being a charming work of total fiction.

On that note -- you may enjoy the short stories of O. Henry, some of which are about confidence men; I can't recommend specific titles but his fiction is very enjoyable generally, at least in my opinion.

#con artists #crime #scams

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skz-streamer · 6 months

Text

The First Date - Hyunjin

Simptober First Dates M-List

Pairing: Hyunjin (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff ;))))

Warnings: idk lmk

Notes: hes so prettyyyy :(((

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

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The story of your first date with Hyunjin begins with the foundation of a budding friendship in a college art class. From the very first time you laid eyes on him, you were captivated by his striking beauty – the silky strands of his hair, the depths of his eyes, and those lips that you couldn't help but wish to kiss. He was someone you admired from afar, never daring to hope for more.

Then, one day, he asked you out, and your heart soared. You had tried to conceal your excitement and act calm, but the moment you said yes, it came out a little too loudly. You both burst into laughter, sharing a moment of lightheartedness that set the tone for your date.

Hyunjin had instructed you to dress nicely for the occasion, and he arrived to pick you up. It was a thoughtful gesture that warmed your heart, as he remembered your conversations about a new gallery that you had often discussed. One of your friends had their artwork displayed there, and it touched you that he had paid attention.

You strolled through the gallery, taking in the art with a sense of shared enthusiasm and awe. You were both art geeks, and the connection you shared over your shared passion for creativity was truly special. As you reached the end of the gallery, Hyunjin asked you to wait at the cafe.

When he returned, he was holding a bouquet of flowers. Your heart melted at the sight. The gesture was sweet and thoughtful, and it made you realize that this was no ordinary date. It was a moment of connection that went beyond the surface.

You reached out for the flowers and embraced him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. As you pulled away and looked into each other's eyes, you both hesitated, your gazes lingering. The unspoken connection between you was undeniable, and in that charged moment, your faces drew closer.

As your lips met, it was a rush of emotions – excitement, longing, and the sweet sensation of a first kiss. It was an electric moment, one that held the promise of a future filled with affection and shared feelings. The intensity of the kiss made it clear that this was not just any first date; it was a beginning, a turning point in your connection.

You broke away first, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. You hid your face in your hands, but Hyunjin didn't miss a beat. He pulled you into another hug, both of you laughing and giggling. You couldn't help but feel like you had known him for an eternity, even though it was just your first date.

Tag: @anny-bah @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @cherry-edibles @ren0325 @felixvsp @hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno @herarcadewasteland @dabiscrustyfeet @kai-jilee @sungiesoonie @slvtty4channiee @revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids @jinnie-ret @bbygrlhannie @rebecca-johnson-28 @turtledove824 @interstellarairwaves @yearofthetiger25 @minhos4thkitty @fiqire @backintomykpopphaseagain @liknws @tinyelfperson @aaasia111 @yangbbokari @hafsah-ali @sleepyleeji @skzhoes @yamaguchiwestad @leonswifesstuff

#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fic #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #stray kids hwang hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin hwang #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #skz hyunjin #hyunjin skz #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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toxinellebug · 4 months

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Shadybug/ClawNoir supporting character Headcanons

Jagged Stone? More like Jared Smith. He wanted to be a rockin musician, but his type of music is banned by the Supreme so his career never took off. Instead, he ended up marrying his girlfriend, Nannette Couffaine, after accidentally knocking her up with twins, released his pet crocodile into the Seine, got an apartment, and works a regular job that he HATES. But, he secretly still tries to record music and sells it on the black market where it has become somewhat popular in the indie underground, but if he were caught he would go to prison for sure. It’s not a happy marriage but he does what he has to. His kids last names are hyphenated Couffaine-Smith.

No houseboat, and without Royalties from music labels, neither Juleka or Luka could afford to go to Francois Dupont

Penny works as an assistant for Bob Roth and HATES IT. The man is a sexist slave driver, but this business is brutal.

Nadja Chamack is not a news anchor. You can’t be a single mother AND have a career that takes up so much of your time. As a result, Marinette has never had to babysit Manon.

Lila wants to challenge Chloe’s position as queen of the school, but there are no lies about charity work, only lies of what powerful and famous connections she has.

Adrien is not interested in being friendly with Lila, and definitely not going to help her with schoolwork. But he is still the ultimate trophy and key to winning popularity in Lila’s eyes, so she is determined to “win him over”, even though he finds her almost as annoying as Chloe, but Chloe he is stuck with due to her mom’s working relationship with his dad.

Gabriel doesn’t trust Lila one bit.

The sad and negative emotions he is forced to sense due to the power of the Butterfly brooch cause him distress, and he often has to excuse himself due to “headaches” from overworking, as a creative’s work is never done… But he is always listening for the emotions of people crying out for justice, for help, for people who wish they had the power to help.

Andre Glacier is still the Sweetheart’s ice-cream maker, but Sweetheart’s ice-cream is just a special menu item that you can request. Otherwise he has a scheduled route and serves the ice-cream that customers ask for.

Alya’s dad wishes the zoo could focus more on animal enrichment and larger enclosures but they don’t have the budget for such “unnecessary extravagences”.

Mr. Haprel hopes to make it as a famous Mime one day so he can be rich enough to afford to send his daughter, Mylene, to the school he works at as a janitor.

Everyone avoids Ivan.

Thomas Astruc never made it as a famous director, rather, the Supreme favored his University Rival, Andre Bourgeois, who also owns the Le Grande Paris Hotel.

Gina and Roland Dupain are not divorced/separated per say… Gina was sent to prison for civil disobedience. That’s why Tom is a doormat and just goes along with whatever discipline Sabine decides on because he doesn’t want his precious little girl to end up a criminal like her grandmother.

Sabine does not teach an inkpainting class on the weekend or practice tai chi or feng shui.

The walls of Marinette’s home are not pink, they are a boring beige that she hates.

The Agreste Manor is not a sterile, black and white modern decor dungeon. It is a prism of color, function, form, beauty and nature with nods to antiquity and the whimsical. Adrien HATES it. All color and light left this world when his mother died. The art in his house mocks his pain.

There is no school blog for Nathaniel to post his art on… But Marc ended up in that class instead of Marinette. (So did Mireille) He’s still too shy to admit he’s a writer. And even more shy to admit he has a crush on Nathaniel, so all he can do is watch the boy quietly. Rose thinks it’s a romantic tragedy and wants to play matchmaker. Alex thinks it’d be a disaster waiting to happen.

There is no Prince Ali who gives toys to sick kids in hospitals.

There is nothing as frivolous as videogame tournaments, so Max devotes all his spare time to his hobby of robotics and developing an AI… but developing an artificial intelligence is frowned upon. Luckily, Alya can keep a secret… that is, if Max is willing to spare some of his time to helping her havkninto the dark web to research conspiracy theories.

Wayhem is obseesed with Adrien, who can’t stand crazy fanatics and won’t lose any sleep if the Gorilla tackles the scrawny boy to the ground.

After much convincing, bullsh**ing, and bribes, Gabriel is able to host his derby hat design competition at Francois Dupont, (and hopefully, modelling his classmate’s creations will be a bonding point for Adrien to make a new friend) Rose sees it as an opportunity to tries to get Marc and Nathaniel to work with her to create a hat, hoping sparks will fly between them.

Even if Marinette WANTED to enter a stupid contest involving that spoiled, stuck-up Agreste boy, which she DOESN’T, her mother won’t allow it because sewing and doodling outfits is a distraction from her schoolwork.

Chloe still cheats.

But Shadybug discreetly sabotages the fashion show the winning hat is supposed to feature in.

Nathalie never became Gabriel’s assistant or even acquaintance. Instead, she is in charge of the department of the Louvre that archives and locks away all “banned” art and artifacts (aka anything related to Miraculous holders)

Alex thinks she’s creepy and hates how she coldly bosses around her dad.

Audrey is the same as ever, with the exception that she recognizes that her younger daughter Zoe has some talent, and wants Andre to find a movie part for her to play, and ignores Chloe’s bitter jealousy which causes her to lash out at others even nastier than in Ladybug and Cat Noir’s universe.

Nino is treated rudely and ignored by Adrien. Adrien would never agree to play a role in Nino’s movie and even accuses Nino of trying to use Adrien’s celebrity status to give himself an unfair advantage in the student movie competition.

Adrien doesn’t have time for stupid group projects or after school activities. But not because he has a full schedule since this Universe’s Gabriel is a decent father who does not demand perfection and give a 14 year old a burdensome schedule… It’s because outside of fencing and modeling, Adrien plans to spend his time planning out which sections of the city he’s going to take his anger out on that night.

Gabriel never forgot his roots as the son of a fry-cook, and occasionally tries to cook comfort food (NOT PANCAKES) for Adrien, who insists he’s not hungry or that junk is bad for his skin/weight, which has Gavriel worried about Adrien developing body dysphoria and eating disorders… These worries are put to rest when he finds out Adrien has suddenly developed a sweet tooth for baked goods. Therefore he has no qualms about his son frequenting the local bakery so often because a growing boy needs to eat and a treat is good for the spirit.

He wishes he could be more honest with Adrien, but he knows that it would destroy his son if he ever found out that the sickness that took his mother’s life was caused by his creation… He’s also not sure what kind of trauma Adrien would have to the fact he’s not human.

Gabriel also doesn’t want Adrien in danger. Gabriel wants to create a better world for his son to live in, a world where he and everyone else can be free! Where people can throve without stepping over others, and the poor don’t have to suffer. Where people have rights to love freely and express opinions without fear. A world where people help one another.

Gabriel would never use the rings to control Adrien, instead, he keeps them locked away in a safe, and plans to give them to Adrien someday when he is an adult and less likrly to misplace them because if they were to fall into the wrong hands, Gabriel shudders to think of what would become of Adrien.

Audrey still has a low key crush on Gabriel which makes him cringe but he still acts polite to keep up working relations, and he also pities his friend Andre, trapped in a one-sided marriage and bullied by his daughter and his wife.

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