#usually these things are an accumulation of a number of different people adding onto each other's music

[everythingoesnk]

Good man

summary; you’re an angel (literally an angel) and the world needs you. what for? to babysit mclennon. spoiler: you cannot resist john.

word count; 3 248

disclaimers; i’m SO proud of this but give me feedback lol you just can’t imagine how much it helps and motivates to keep writing

warnings; cannot think of one.

********

Too many of yours had been killed. Many others were still held in custody, tortured for the sole purpose of unleashing a war your community had been avoiding.

The smartest decision would’ve been to end the nonsense and face the enemy head-on, but again, you were angels. Dialogue always came first.

You learned the lesson.

This last year you’d been training and developing physical skills that initially don’t belong to your committee. What you didn’t know was the irrefutable decision the Parliament imposed in one of their meetings that they later would communicate to the nation: put into practice, only if necessary, the fighting tactics that you acquired. Not here, but on Earth. Long story short, become guardians. A large number of people understand that as angels that’s what you are. They’re not wrong, in a way.

On a final note, the Parliament concluded that its best pupils would descend to protect humans from the vehemence of the Evil.

Each angel has two people assigned.

Yours are Paul McCartney and John Lennon.

//

18th of June 1967, 15:18 pm

“Today marks six months since we met, and on top of that, it’s my birthday. Have you bought me anything?” Paul inquired from the sofa, straightening his neck to get a better view of your face.

It was difficult with you staring out the window, scanning every inch of the street and skyline, never turning to show any interest in what he was saying.

Dropping his head backwards, he added quietly, “And nothing happened”

“Is that disappointment in your tone?” you asked impassively, still not turning.

“Disappointment is not the word”

“What’s the word then?”

Your eyes travelled to a different point. No longer on the clouds that ventured the signs of a storm but on your partner and one of the other three funky insects.

Matt was near the metal gate, keeping an eye on the vicinities and probably rolling his eyes at the fans’ screeches coming from behind the entry, crying for any sort of interaction with their idols.

Not far from there John was sitting on the hood of his car.

Something must have told him he was being watched because he put down the hand with the cigarette and looked up to the same window you were at almost instantly.

An uneasy feeling that you couldn’t quite describe expanded around your heart after his inquisitive stare settled on you.

Flustered, you looked coyly to the left and right, because maybe Paul shifted to your side and you didn’t notice.

That got a small laugh from John.

Paul wasn’t in the room anymore but on the bathroom taking a pee, you could hear him. Regaining your usual erect composure, your brows pinched in a frown.

John got off the hood and put out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe before heading towards the building, looking in your direction once more with hands in his pockets and a sinful smirk tickling his lips.

“No,” you told Paul, observing John until he couldn’t be seen no more.

He shot you a confused glance as he finished pulling up the zipper.

“Babe, be more specific”

“I didn’t buy you anything” you concretized, facing him, “but I’m here to save your life in case you need to be saved. And if the moment comes I will, I’m a good warrior”

Paul blushed. He flapped his hand at you.

“It was a joke”

“I hope you were joking too about ‘nothing’ happening. You should be grateful you weren’t in any danger just yet”

You swore you could boil an egg in his face.

//

18th June 1967, 15:39 pm

“We’ll be back before dinner” Matt informed, putting on a jacket.

“Do the wings break through the clothes when you… invoke them?” Ringo asked.

George and John didn’t make any witty remarks, wondering the same secretly.

You and Matt exchanged looks. He shrugged and you thought it wasn’t worth your time answering.

“We do not invoke them. They appear when we need them”

Ringo kept asking questions but you didn’t focus on them, after all he was Matt’s responsibility. He was taking them –George and Ringo– to pay a visit to their wives. Matt missed driving so they didn’t mind him taking the wheel.

In Paul’s case it was Linda and her guardian who dropped by every now and then.

Due to the first impression of them, you thought Paul and John would be more demanding, however, they didn’t bother you and mostly stuck to doing their own thing.

Paul was taking a nap in the room next door; John’s whereabouts were unknown. You had to find him for his safety.

Gliding down the corridor you bumped into him.

You folded your arms across the chest.

“Where were you?”

“A fan dodged security and was waiting for me in the lobby. We talked for a bit and snapped a picture”

“For the thousandth time,” you groaned, annoyance streaming through your body like lava, “do not speak to anyone if I’m not around! Why do you keep disobeying my instructions?”

“She looked regular” he justified.

You looked at him as you might a cockroach.

“Demons disguise themselves accurately to fool jerks like you” you spat out.

Pulling a theatrical painful face, he brought a hand down to hold on to his dick and testicles, simulating that your words kicked him just there.

“Lennon, do not make it harder than it needs to be. I didn’t choose to have to follow you around like a puppy”

“Alright, can you take a moment to try and understand how overwhelming the situation is for us as well?” he argued, putting on hold his reckless demeanour.

Rubbing your eyes you sighed, “Yes, I can, but—”

“Forgive me”

“I forgive you, but don’t do it again”

A tender grin formed on his face, content that you didn’t put up much of a fight.

“Before I got interrupted I was actually on my way to get you. I wanna show you something”

You rolled your eyes. He’s so random.

Back in the room, he went straight to the piano. After tuning it his eyes wandered to the empty space he had next to him on the bench, waiting for you to take it.

Your expression switched from curious to stupefied.

Following his command you sat down.

Your gaze flickered from his eyes to his lips and from lips to his fingers. He played so carefully and delicately in the beginning, introducing the prologue of his piece, that you lost yourself somewhere in the middle of it. Recalling the day you entered Heaven you shivered.

Music filled the air, hijacking every part of your mind.

The melody began to change, more macabre and haunting. It reminded you of everything beginning to fall apart, when the enemy showed no mercy and without guilt slayed the innocent.

You weren’t aware of how you were digging your fingernails in his leg, the shrieks of the victims ringing in your ear.

John stopped playing, placed his hand on top of yours and clasped it firmly, looking concerned.

You shook your head and instead walked away, needing space.

John squared his shoulders as he took a deep breath and sauntered up to you. Brows together, you shrank back.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he said, respecting the distance.

You remained quiet, head buzzing.

He squinted at you and tilted his head.

“Talking about it might help you”

“Have you taken it on yourself to be my personal psychologist?”

He held your gaze. It was the pain talking, not you. He knew and he was going to be patient.

“It’s not your fault this is happening. Any of this”

“Stop”

“You need to hear it. You have this vast weight on your shoulders—”

“I could’ve done something!” you hollered, saturated with the remorse you’d been accumulating. You knew you weren’t responsible for the cataclysm. He didn’t… he didn’t understand. “Those monsters killed them in front of me! Marta, Norman, Charlie! I can still feel how my body jarred after witnessing every stab and poisoned bite. Blood was gushing out of their mouths and I did nothing!”

The image of you petifried watching them die and not being able to help repulsed you.

How could you have been so cruel?

John held his breath. That was what was torturing you.

“You aren’t responsible for their deaths”

“Aren’t I?” you fumed, the void in the middle of your heart widening. “You know nothing”

The bitterness in your voice made his nostrils flare.

Through his bones echoed the determination to cure your scars. However, he understood it wasn’t his job to heal you.

“And I’ll never get to apologize”

You could sense John’s question without him actually asking.

“Demons get to exist thanks to the souls they rip from their owners. The bodies vanished after that” you explained, feeling dizzy.

Throat dry, you brought a hand to your forehead.

Beneath your typical mask of coldness never would have John imagined you were battling against yourself.

It brought him back to when he felt like he could have prevented his mum from leaving the house, saving her life. He was seventeen. Seventeen, not three or four. He could have warned her about the insanity of driving under those conditions. The wind was brutal that day, and it rained cats and dogs. Instead, he kissed her cheek good-bye and went to his room.

He blamed himself too at first. It was a long and tormenting process, but he comprehended he wasn’t guilty. You’d get to that point eventually, he thought, you’d have only gotten yourself killed too if you’d have intervened.

The breeze that came through the window dried your tears and moved the hair away from your notable cheekbones. He attempted to reach out to you for the second time. You just stared at him, biting your quivering lower lip. He stood before you, eyes boring into your mournful ones.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you slowly against him. You sobbed into his chest as you snuggled closer for shelter.

John pressed his cheek onto the top of your head.

“It’s not your fault” he repeated, emotion palpable in his tone.

It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.

//

2nd of February 1968, 12:13 pm

Matt dug his elbow into your ribs.

“He fell for you,” he said with a huge smirk, and imitated your pose: hands laced behind the back, eyes closed and body toward the sun taking in its pleasant rays.

“Shouldn’t have” you muttered after a pause, forcing the letters out of your mouth.

“That card you keep playing of apathy is ridiculous”

“I’m not playing any apathy card”

“Pretending you have no feelings for John won’t make it easier tomorrow”

You blinked and turned to him. He opened his and fixed them on you.

“I’m simply prioritizing other things”

“What other things are those?”

He knew already.

He knew that the things you just claimed to prioritize over your damn feelings were nonexistent. Like always, he was right. You didn’t want to triple the suffering that implied separating from John by confessing.

War was over. Angels defeated the beasts and freed themselves and humanity; home awaited your kind.

“My dear (Y/N),” Matt laughed dreamily, “you have all the time in the world to wait for him. Find out if he will still love you then”

//

3th of February 1968, 18:21 pm

John lost track of the number of times he rehearsed the torrent of words he planned on telling you.

He raised his hand and put it in a fist. Up in the air, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to knock on the door. Explicit terms and a deep groan escaped his lips. He dropped it and inhaled deeply, heart pounding frantically.

When he thought he was ready to finally do it Paul emerged from the closest corner, sprinted and knocked four times, running afterwards to the room that George and Ringo shared before John could catch him. And he did try.

“Ay! You want a fuckin’ hole in your face, you punk?!” he banged on their door, getting angrier with their laughs.

He almost lost it when Ringo hummed ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’.

Nonplussed, you crossed your arms and stood watching John from your spot after opening the door.

Just like before, his sensor did not fail him. He stopped his actions shortly and whirled around. Reddening abruptly, for a second he was sure his face was on fire.

You cleared your throat.

“Well?”

Cautiously, his brain stuttering, he glided the necessary steps to be in front of you.

He opened his mouth but didn’t get to say anything because Matt appeared from behind you.

“Who is—”

Immediately after seeing John his eyes widened.

“Oh God! I’m sorry! Were you- Oh my God, I’m sorry! Shit, go on” he gasped, and literally hurried inside.

That only aggravated the layer of crimson sprayed in John’s complexion.

You wanted to laugh but didn’t, obviously he was there to make the first move. You flashed him a small smile for support. He smiled at you too in return.

“Follow me”

Imperceptible in his voice, he succeeded in hiding elsewhere he feared rejection.

You raised an eyebrow teasingly. He frowned then chuckled in realization.

“Please?”

You giggled, which sounded way too girly for your liking, and took his hand in yours.

John led the way to the rooftop of the hotel.

Garlands of white and pink roses decorated the space, and since the sun was setting, you got to see how the orangy golden lights ghosted over John’s skin which made him look not handsome but celestial. At the distance, a trail of a plain crossed the horizon. You admired the view for a few more seconds and then drifted your eyes back to him.

The kindness and love reflected in his felt as warm as a kiss on the forehead of your favourite person in the world.

“I have to be quick, you don’t have much time”

He wasn’t wrong. You had to leave soon.

“Here, take this” he handed you a paper folded in half. “Open it when you’re there”

You averted the gaze towards the sheet and nodded. His eyes desperately searched yours again. Every second counted.

“I love you” he blurted out, a bizarre combination of panic and hope evident on his face. Like a child who just confessed that he broke granny’s vase, praying not to be grounded. “And I really, really want to kiss you”

The longing in his request melted your heart.

When you were about to let him know that you wanted it too you felt it in your back. You felt the muscles pulling the skin, pushing to make their way through to the outside.

One moment they weren’t there the other your wings were now displayed broadly for him to see.

They raised themselves, ready for departure.

John’s mouth fell open.

Unable to stop staring at their grandiosity and splendour, heartbeat wildly pumping, he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he said breathlessly.

With tears in your eyes, you cupped his head in your hands and laid your mouth on his mouth without prior notice.

In that very instant, right there, the world stopped spinning.

He moved his silky wet lips against yours, pressing you further in until there was no space in between when the saltiness of your teardrops mixed with the saliva.

Your wings started aching awfully by now, and you knew what that meant.

Not wanting to, you pulled back from the kiss, lips burning.

“No” he purred, holding you in place, fingers gripping so tight around your upper arms that the skin beneath them turned white.

“John, it’s time”

Brokenhearted, you withdrew fully after rubbing your noses in an affectionate eskimo kiss.

You nudged intimately his chin up with your thumb.

John didn’t want to miss the opportunity to absorb your dazzling beauty thus he forced his eyes open.

“Part of my heart will stay with you. Remain a good man, Lennon, and return it to me. I trust that we’ll meet again in due course”

3th February 1968, 23:33 pm

Excitement throbbed in you. Seating cross-legged, you created walls with your wings to avoid snoopers and unfolded the paper.

It was a piano score. At the bottom of it, written in his handwriting, was a small note:

“I changed the ending. Now it’s about finding peace and picking up your broken bits to build a stronger armour. You’re a fierce woman, (Y/N), but whenever that feeling tightens and saddens your heart, play this”

Tangled in a mix of joy and sorrow, you half smiled as a tear rolled down your cheek and chin, landing in John’s signature.

//

8th December 1980, 22:50 pm

Everyone fell silent.

You noticed that all of your fellow companions and friends had their gazes bonded to the same spot. Slowly, you turned to check what they were looking at, and you nearly passed out.

He rarely visited. Only when he had good reasons to.

Gait steady, knowing very well what he was doing, he gave a quick look around as he paced.

His eyes found you.

Saint Peter offered you a reassuring smile, causing everyone to snap their heads at you.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)”

You swallowed.

“Y-yes?” you sputtered.

“I believe you’ll want to see this”

Uncertain, you joined him, not before sending Matt a doubtful look.

In any case, all your questions were answered when you reached the Gates and saw who was waiting for you. His wings were even more impressive, glittering and elegant than anyone else’s.

He was touching their feathers, inspecting them.

You ran to embrace him. Off guard as you took him, his arms were trapped under yours, preventing him from being able to hug you back.

“You shouldn’t be here. What happened, John?” you said, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

“(Y/N)…” Saint Peter warned.

Under no circumstances it was allowed to ask for the reason behind someone’s death nor tell yours. It was the rules; the subject was forbidden.

You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

Taking a couple of steps back, you looked up to him. John bored his eyes into yours, lips stretching into a dainty smile.

“Hello, love. I took great care of the piece of your heart that you borrowed me” he said, twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “The time has come, I can give it back”

“It was for you, dummy” you answered with a laugh, voice cracking.

He dropped his head shyly to the floor, smile growing larger.

You followed where his eyes were pointing at, only to see his bare toes scrunching into the delicacy and softness of the cloud, getting familiar with it.

“I’m sorry you’re here” you whispered, honestly horrified that he didn’t get the chance to grow old.

“I was never scared of dying,” he spoke, slowly raising his head, “because I knew I’d be with you”

Staring at each other, none spoke for a moment.

“I love you too, by the way,” you admitted, pink arising in your cheeks. “I realized after I left that I didn’t say it back”

John smirked. He caressed your face and you felt the butterflies in your tummy flutter.

Love danced in the brightness of his eyes.

“Show me Heaven, (Y/N)”

#john lennon #john lennon x reader #ringo starr #george harrison #paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon imagine #john lennon fanfic #john lennon fanfiction #angst #angels and demons #tayloredstarr

[somethingvaguetodo]

Signals Crossed

It's hard to balance two identities, especially when you are trying to do it all on one phone. Read on AO3 here

EDIT: Now with a second part!!!

Ladybug sat on the roof of the Palais Garnier waiting for Chat Noir to arrive for patrol. She was in the second minute of her deep breathing exercises when her yo-yo chimed with an incoming message.

Her eyes flew open to read Alya’s response. Unsatisfied with what it said, Ladybug chewed her lip as she thought about how to answer.

Marinette was having a crisis. Exactly 36 minutes earlier, she had received a text message from Adrien Agreste. The message read:

Hey Marinette! I have a photo shoot scheduled for Saturday and I just spoke to Père. He said it’s okay if you want to come along! Are you still interested?

In her panic, Marinette had screenshot the message and forwarded it to Alya, who told her to respond immediately and accept. Marinette, however, knew it was better to wait to respond so that she didn’t look desperate. Alya’s disagreement had continued past the time she needed to leave for patrol, so she was continuing the conversation from the rooftops.

I want him to think I’m cool and I have a life Answering in a minute does not show him that at all

Ladybug pressed the M icon at the top of her screen and sent both messages.

A few months ago, she and Chat had been playing around with the settings on their communicators when they discovered this capability. Chat was hoping to find a way to connect to Wi-Fi so he could start an official Chat Noir Twitter, but instead found a way to add another phone number to send and receive calls and messages. She had jumped at the chance to merge her two phones, but Chat didn’t.

“Honestly, m’lady, I love that you are the only one who can contact me when I’m transformed,” he had said with a wink.

Marinette had rolled her eyes and immediately added her civilian phone number. It made it a lot easier to cover herself and back up her excuses if she could contact Alya and her parents when transformed. All she had to do was be careful to choose the correct sender - Marinette, not Ladybug - when contacting them. Tikki had been nervous about the potential for making a mistake but Marinette knew better. Tikki was wise, but she was also old, and knew nothing about technology.

Marinette grew up with phones, computers, and tablets. She had this handled.

Alya had responded: It’s been what, a half hour? That’s long enough M

Ladybug rolled her eyes, but had to admit that Alya was right.

Chat Noir touched down beside her as she was typing her response to Adrien.

“One second, Chat. I’m making plans for the weekend.”

Chat groaned, and sat down beside her. “See this was why I didn’t like this, Ladybug. I’m trying to figure out my weekend plans too but I left my phone at home and will see later if my friend answered.”

Ladybug refused to look at him until she finished typing. “That’s good for you, Chat.”

Hey Adrien!!! I’d love to come to the shoot!! x

She sent it to Alya to make sure it sounded casual enough before copying it into a new message to Adrien. Alya’s response to add a kissing emoji went unacknowledged.

Ladybug reread the message twice to make sure there were no spelling errors. She made sure there were a different number of exclamation marks after each sentence so Adrien didn’t think she was strange or overenthusiastic.

Once she was sure it was perfect, she looked up at Chat and pressed send.

“Done!” she announced with a smile.

Despite his exasperation, Chat smiled back. “Excited for those plans?”

“Yes!” Now that she had finally sent the message, Ladybug could feel the excitement overriding the anxiety. “Oh, Chat, this is going to be amazing! I’ve literally dreamed of this happening but didn’t think it ever actually would!”

Chat’s smile faded. “Ladybug, do you have a date?”

Ladybug’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? No!” Then she thought about it. “Well, I guess it could maybe be thought of as a date...” She trailed off, the anxiety coming back. She grabbed hold of Chat’s arm and squeezed it tight. “Oh gosh, Chat, do you think he thinks it’s a date?!”

He studied her closely, oddly serious. “Would that make you happy?”

Ladybug nodded rapidly. “Very happy.”

“Well in that case,” Chat said, “I hope he does think it’s a date.” At Ladybug’s surprised look, he chuckled. “I just want you to be happy, LB.” Ladybug felt herself warm up, a blush dusting her cheeks. Chat’s smile turned mischievous. “Besides, I know we’re endgame. This will be a fun story to tell our grandkids one day.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes and shoved him. “Come on you crazy cat.” She pushed herself off the roof to stand, tossing out her yo-yo and pulling the string taunt. “Race you to L’Arc de Triumph.”

Chat Noir dove through his bedroom window, releasing his transformation as he went and landing in a forward roll on the floor. Plagg spiraled out of his ring, moaning for cheese. Adrien picked himself up and walked to the bed, collapsing on his back.

He still had to complete a chemistry worksheet, shower, and change before going to sleep, but he could afford to rest for a few minutes. He picked up his phone from where it was charging on his nightstand and scrolled through his notifications.

There were a number of unread text messages, but he looked for Marinette’s name first. Adrien was disappointed to see that she hadn’t responded to him yet. He was really hoping that she would come this Saturday to his photo shoot.

He went to respond to Nino when he noticed one new message from a number he didn’t recognize. In fact it wasn’t a normal number at all.

0000M0000C0000 SMS message

Convinced that it was a scam or robo-message, Adrien ignored it in favor of answering Nino.

After sending a message, he swiped out of Nino’s thread, intending to check and make sure his message to Marinette went through. On the main page of his message app, however, he could read the beginning of the message from the unknown number.

0000M0000C0000 Hey Adrien!!! I’d love to come to...

Adrien looked at it, chewing his lip as he decided what to do. It was clearly from someone who knew his name, but a scam could have found that out. If it was a scam, it would be better to ignore it. But it could also be something important, or something Nathalie or Père scheduled that he would get into trouble for ignoring.

Deciding the curiously would kill him if he didn’t look, Adrien opened the message.

Hey Adrien!!! I’d love to come to the shoot!! x

The message sounded like it came from Marinette. He was expecting a response from her about a photo shoot, and she often signed her messages with an x.

But unless Marinette bought a new phone with an unconventional number, it couldn’t have been from her.

Something about the number was bothering him, and he took another look.

It wasn’t so much a number as a string of zeros and two letters. He doubted it was coming from a phone. Maybe an IP address? Or an e-mail? One of his fathers’ colleagues had tried to send an e-mail to his phone number and it came out strange.

Deciding to find that old message, Adrien scrolled back through his thread, watching names pass by before something caught his attention.

0000M0000D0000

He pressed it. It was a series of unanswered messages, but Adrien recognized them all. They were reminders he had sent himself: things he had to do before going to bed, homework that was due the next day, people he was supposed to reply to. But he had sent them all from Chat Noir’s baton communicator.

Adrien’s heart was pounding, but the conclusion he was jumping to couldn’t possibly be correct.

“Plagg,” he called out, and the kwami appeared with a wedge of Camembert clutched in his paws. “Can you take a look at this?”

Plagg floated over, and Adrien switched back to the message from 0000M0000C0000.

“Could this be from Ladybug?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

Plagg glanced at the screen and shrugged. “You know I don’t understand all of your computer stuff,” he whined.

Adrien fiddled with his phone, trying to decide what to do. He finally gave in to his impulses.

“Plagg, claws out!”

Chat Noir sat on his bed, cross-legged, and took out his baton. He opened the messaging app. There were only six conversations: Ladybug, Queen Bee, Carapace, Rena Rouge, his cell phone, and the one time he tried to message Hawkmoth only to discover that he had deactivated that feature.

He clicked on Ladybug’s. There were a series of important messages about akumas and patrols, jokes, and silly memes usually sent by Chat. He navigated to her contact card.

Her face smiled out at him, information below the photo.

Ladybug Miraculous 0000M0000C0000

Chat stopped breathing.

He held his phone up beside the baton and compared the numbers to make sure they were exactly the same. They were.

He released his transformation with an exhale, his baton disintegrating from his hands. Adrien was left sitting on his bed, phone in one hand and frustrated kwami landing in the other.

“What was that for?” Plagg asked.

Adrien decided it would be best to logically present the data he had accumulated. “I got a message from a strange number, that I now can see is actually Ladybug’s yo-yo. The message was addressed to Adrien, which means that Ladybug knows me as Adrien. It was about coming to my photo shoot, and only Marinette would be sending me a message about a photo shoot.”

Plagg blinked up at him. “So?”

“So,” Adrien echoed, his voice calm and measured, “Marinette is Ladybug.”

They both let that statement sit between them for a moment. Then Adrien started hyperventilating.

“Marinette is Ladybug! How didn’t I notice that before? It’s so obvious! Ladybug is Marinette!” Adrien dumped Plagg unceremoniously onto his bedspread and leapt up, pacing the length of the room.

“So Ladybug sends a text to Adrien, but she thinks that she is Marinette sending a text to Adrien. But she isn’t, she’s actually Ladybug who is also Marinette who is texting Adrien who she doesn’t know is actually Chat Noir and was right next to her at the time.”

Plagg watched him. “Sounds about right.”

Adrien ignored him. “Ladybug isn’t interested in going out with Chat Noir, but Ladybug who is Marinette said that she wants the guy she was texting to think of their plans as a date. And Ladybug was texting Adrien.”

Adrien turned to Plagg, his hands tugging at his hair. “Which means Marinette wants to date Adrien, if I haven’t lost track,” Plagg finished for him.

Having reached the windows, Adrien rested his back against one and slid down to sit on the floor. “Which means Ladybug wants to date Chat Noir,” he said, a smile blooming on his face. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

Adrien started laughing, and found he couldn’t stop. Now that the shock had worn off and the information was starting to sink in, he felt a little delusional. This couldn’t actually have happened, could it?

Plagg shook his head. “How are you going to tell her?”

Adrien thought about it, and suddenly a grin spread across his face. “This photo shoot is going to be fun.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #my writing

[caroldanversmohawk]

Quidditch Captain Danvers - Chapter 3 POSTED!

Chapter 3: You are insane, my desire

Carol had been stalking her prey for the last five minutes. It was too perfect. Saturday morning meant the classrooms were empty. And Natasha's path had brought her past a hallway full of them.

Carol crept up behind her, waiting until they were outside a door. She used one arm to loop around the petit girl's waist, and used her free hand to grasp her wand, quickly casting the unlocking and opening spells, before she spun them both inside the room. As she pulled Natasha's back closer to her chest, she closed and locked the door again, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room.

"Carol!" Natasha's soft, breathy voice didn't have any edge on it. Carol knew she had caught her lover by surprise. She clenched her arms around Natasha from behind.

"What's up, baby?" Carol chuckled in Natasha's ear. "You miss me?" Natasha leaned into Carol's embrace, coming down from her shock and sighing contentedly.

"I saw you yesterday," she laughed, feigning indifference even though her body was indicating something different altogether.

Carol slipped one hand under Natasha's robes, finding the waistband of her skirt and sliding her hand under that to massage the bare skin at her hip. Natasha groaned, leaning back into her more, much to Carol's satisfaction. "Hmm, I guess you did. But we didn't even get to touch." Carol placed a few soft kisses on the side of Nat's neck.

"Is this an apology, Danvers? For almost dueling Stark?" Natasha's voice was fully under control now, less breathy and more teasing.

Carol chuckled against Nat's neck, scraping her teeth lightly down the side until she felt her squirm under her. "Nope. Stark deserves what I would've done to him if we hadn't been interrupted."

"Oh? My fierce little lion." Natasha grabbed Carol's wrist, using it as leverage to turn herself around in Carol's arms to face her. Their lips were hovering over each other, hazel with gold speckles staring into deep green. "Do you want to tell me why Mazie Stanton showed up with Combusting Chalk all over her?" Natasha raised her eyebrow in question.

"You know her?" Carol decided she was done waiting for the conversation to finish. She captured Natasha's lips, hungrily crushing them against hers. Natasha moaned, responding just as aggressively, her tongue slipping into Carol's mouth and fighting for dominance. Carol moved her hand around to Natasha's lower back, teasing the skin there under her fingertips. Natasha countered by pressing her hips into Carol's.

When they pulled back for breath, Natasha continued the conversation as if nothing had interrupted them. This wasn't the first time this had happened. "I know her. She's helped me out on occasion. Sweet girl." 

"She's got a sassy streak too." Carol added.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Not that I've ever heard. But you have a way of bringing out the best in people, Captain Danvers." Carol was about to protest but Nat was pulling her down for another kiss, and she wasn't about to stop that.

Nat pulled back suddenly, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Are you trying to make me jealous, Danvers?"

"You're the one who brought her up!" Carol reminded her. "Though I do like making good girls do bad things..." She gave Nat a challenging smirk.

"Hmm, aren't I the bad one? That's what your Gryffindor friends say anyway." Nat nipped at Carol's lip, tugging on it gently before running her tongue over the sting.

"Right, right. I'm the model student.” Natasha almost snorted at Carol’s words. “You're just the Slytherin Prefect." Carol slipped her hand under Natasha's shirt, grazing the swell of her breasts with her fingertips. Nat shivered under her touch.

"Huh. Maybe we're both the bad girls then." Natasha smirked. Her hand came up around Carol's throat, applying light pressure as she brought their lips together.

"Fine by me," Carol murmured when she finally had a moment to breathe. Natasha brought her lips back down to hers.

Carol was lost in the heat of Natasha's lips, the feel of her fingertips sliding under her robes, alternating between featherlight touches and harsh raking marks. Carol moaned squirming under the surely bruising onslaught, but only feeling the rush of adrenaline released by her body. She felt hot all over, and she pulled Nat even tighter against her to share that fire. Natasha's responding groan told her that she was succeeding. 

Carol pressed forward until Natasha was forced to slide onto a desk. The other girl was already shorter than Carol, but now that she was sitting, it gave Carol even more of an advantage. One that she took advantage of, cupping Nat's face in her hands.

Natasha had other ideas. She leaned back until Carol was off balance. Once she was leaning precariously over her, Natasha made her move, pulling the other girl down and over so that Carol fell into the desk next to them. Natasha then hopped off her desk, straddling her lover, who was uncomfortably draped on her back across the desk. 

She smirked, leaning down for a quick kiss. "Some predicament you got yourself in, Danvers." Carol was breathless staring up into those mischievous, green eyes. Natasha was looking down at her hungrily. Natasha continued to tease her tongue-tied lover, “Too bad you caught me by surprise. I don’t have my strap.” 

Carol’s core clenched at the words, a wicked idea popping into her mind. “Not like we’re witches or anything.” She smirked sarcastically, looking up at Natasha with a suspiciously innocent gaze. “I could just use a spell and have it here in a moment...”

Natasha’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to think how Carol would do that. Objects couldn’t apparate. Carol, on the other hand, was thrilled by her lover’s confusion. She managed to get her wand free of her robe, holding it aloft she said, “Accio stra--” the rest was muffled by Natasha’s hand.

“Bloody hell, you’re insane!” Natasha’s eyes were wide as she wrestled Carol’s wand away from her, for good measure, still keeping her other hand on Carol’s mouth.

Carol had descended into a fit of laughter, imagining Natasha’s dark green strapon flying through the halls of Hogwarts, past traumatized students, professors, and ghosts until it banged up against the door they were behind. “If that spell actually worked, I’m going to fucking kill you, Danvers.” Carol’s laughter was renewed, watching Nat continue to glance at the door, dreading a THUMP that would indicate that Carol had indeed summoned her strap through the entire school.

It took a number of long minutes before Natasha sighed, the tension in her shoulders visibly relaxing. She pocketed Carol’s wand, not trusting her anymore to keep it. But she let up on the pressure of her hand on Carol’s lips. To which Carol immediately responded by taking Natasha’s fingers into her mouth, and sucking hard. Natasha moaned, caught off guard again, grinding her hips into Carol’s. Carol sucked hard, using her tongue to trace each digit in her mouth, before finally releasing them with a pop. “You don’t need your strap to fuck me.” Carol challenged Natasha with a smirk.

Natasha pressed Carol down against the desk and descended on her with a harsh kiss. She took her revenge with passion, pinning Carol with both her mouth and body, and exacting her toll. Her tongue thrust into Carol’s mouth, making her moan. Her hands slid under Carol’s robe, alternating between scraping her nails across her skin and pressing her fingers harshly into her. Natasha swallowed each of Carol’s whimpers, revealing as her lover arched into her. She wanted to take control, to stay in control. To bend Carol to her will under she was nothing but a writhing mess beneath her, begging for release.

Carol looked up at Natasha, seeing the lust and dominance burning in her eyes. She had pressed and pressed until that switch finally flipped in her lover. And now all she could do was ride out the consequences. All the fire and confrontation that Carol usually craved just melted away when Nat looked at her like that. She didn't even try to resist, letting Nat take what she needed.

And Natasha demanded everything of her, wrapping one hand through Carol's blonde hair and the other pressed into her bare skin at her thigh, bringing her leg up to wrap around Natasha’s hip. Carol's moan opened her mouth to Natasha's invading tongue, sweeping in and across until Carol was arching into her, begging for more contact, more pleasure. It was absolute heaven.

They spent a few hours in the empty classroom, finally getting out the pent up sexual frustration that they both had accumulated over the last few days of public confrontations. Natasha was mostly in control, but Carol wrestled it away a few times when she wanted to see her squirm. Otherwise Natasha would neglect her own pleasure, so preoccupied with Carol's. And while Carol liked being on top, she also loved the spark in Natasha's eyes when she did what Nat wanted, that darkened lust filling those sharp green eyes…

Natasha’s parting words to Carol were ones that she would take to heart. "We should do this more often."

"Mmh," was all Carol got out before Natasha kissed her chastely on the lips, opening the door to slip out into the deserted hallway.

Carol made a mental note to surprise Nat more often in the future. There was no where else she would rather be...until Quidditch practice. Which she was late for, again. Showing up with tousled hair, scratch marks, and smelling oddly like a certain Slytherin Prefect’s perfume. No one said a word to her about it. But one of her Beaters, Valkyrie, kept making comments all practice how they were going to “completely fuck” Slytherin next week. And Carol had to wonder if they knew...but she was so high on the endorphins from that morning that she just didn’t care if they did.

#quidditch captain danvers #carolnat #harry potter au #my stories #smut #not really though #i love writing these two together #its a wild one #carol cracks me up every time i write

[ecostreetwear-blog]

Making Sustainable Fashion a Way of Life

In many ways the words sustainable and style don't actually sit together properly. Click for Wikipedia I've heard sustainable vogue described as each oxymoronic and a contradiction and maybe this is true. Is it really doable for the fashion trade to turn into sustainable?

A part of the issue with the term sustainable trend is that 'fashion' is often used to explain always changing trends and even related to 'quick trend', the time period used to explain the low price or inexpensive clothes that's rapidly made to answer the newest trend usually being worn solely a couple of times earlier than being discarded.

The moral and environmental implications of this sort of clothing are nicely recognised with priceless sources being wasted and staff within the provide chain being mistreated to make sure low value clothes that's rapidly produced. Despite the numerous negative connotations that the word vogue might have, in case you take it as extra of a normal word used to describe clothing, then it is nearly possible to have sustainable style, although perhaps not completely as a result of the manufacture of any clothes may have some affect on the surroundings even if comparatively small.

With confusion even over the identify of the product, it is not really surprising that almost all shoppers cannot be bothered with sustainable vogue and as a substitute desire simply follow the style brands that they know regardless of figuring Ed.Wa. Ecostreetwear out that they often function in unsustainable and unethical ways. But the contradiction over the name 'sustainable style' is just the beginning. There are so many different contradictions and plenty of confusion related to it.

Take for example vegan vogue. Being vegan is generally thought of to an moral and sustainable way of living, not only reducing the suffering sustainable fashion prompted to animals within the farming system however lowering the carbon footprint and pollution attributable to farming.

It may therefore come as a shock to some that vegan trend is just not necessarily the most ethical and sustainable choice. Vegan shoes could also be made with out using any animal products but that does not imply that they have been made in ethical factories or using sustainable supplies in fact the synthetic materials used as an alternative of leather-based are sometimes damaging to the environment in their own approach. If you want to be completely positive that your vegan shoes or handbags are fully ethical and sustainable, you will have to search for a brand that pays consideration to all of those points.

Subsequent on the list of contradiction and confusion surrounding sustainable style is the concept of moral trend. Many ethical fashion brands assist various good causes all over the world and empower individuals to create a sustainable livelihood. Nevertheless with the intention to help these nice causes, it does contain shopping for garments, maybe clothes that we don't really need or presumably should not comprised of sustainable materials. The extra we purchase, the extra we assist these nice causes but in addition the extra we consume. Collections labelled as sustainable could also be made out of eco-pleasant materials but this is no assure that they have been manufactured in an ethical manner.

On this state of affairs we are left with the difficult activity of deciding what's most essential by way of sustainability economic and social or environmental. Moral vogue is commonly made in nations far away; this is another contrast to the locally made style which is usually thought-about to be extra sustainable because of the environmental impact of its transportation.

Second hand and vintage clothing again offer a dilemma, while they're most likely the most sustainable possibility, they do little to alleviate poverty world wide, although on this case buying in charity retailers could possibly be the answer to reducing each environmental impact and supporting a worthwhile cause.

The topic of sustainable trend is a posh one and the confusion surrounding it's generally utilized by brands to green wash customers through the use of the phrases 'eco' and 'sustainable' to explain clothes or collections that will help in one way but not one other.

With the intention to combat scepticism and mistrust of sustainable fashion, there needs to be a clear and straightforward to understand way of labelling and describing products. The phrase sustainable vogue is normal sufficient to imply just about anything when utilized by intelligent entrepreneurs inflicting confusion amongst consumers. The time period sustainable also just does not actually excite these seeking to purchase style.

With the recession on, everyone seems to be trying to costume for less. Relating to building your capsule wardrobe it isn't about shopping for clothes on the cheap in gross sales but about investing in high quality style items which you'll put on for years to come. This is not to say that you may not discover a perfect item of clothes on your capsule wardrobe in a excessive street sale and on on-line bargains.

But the problem with sales is that there's the tendency to purchase clothes which can be unsuitable for our physique form or is in poor health-becoming, all because it is on sale. What occurs to these clothes? They accumulate dust within the wardrobe, are chucked out and then you might be again to sq. one.

Then there may be the throw away style garments which you recognize is not going to stand as much as several washes however you purchase it anyway. Not very supportive for sustainable trend is it?

The concept of getting a capsule wardrobe is that these core pieces are easily interchangeable between outfits. Gok Wan popularized the 24 piece capsule wardrobe on his present "Gok's Style Repair" of which each piece, he advises, should be interchangeable with at the very least three outfits.

On the subject of putting together your capsule wardrobe there's assist accessible. Why not use the free style recommendation service offered at a lot of your division excessive avenue stores. What might be better than a having your individual style advisor fully freed from cost?

It's going to definitely prevent money and time and you end up with a wardrobe that you just truly enjoy wearing. So just call up your local department retailer and make an appointment to get began on your basic wardrobe and do your bit for sustainable trend.

This article was written by Arline James-Thomas for Munique Style - muniquefashions.com. Munique brings you distinctive, quality handcrafted Social profilevogue and accessories from artisans all over the world. These unique designs talk rarity and say one thing about you the wearer.

Sustainable fashion - it actually sounds good, however what's it Read Blog and what does it mean for the environment and to your wardrobe?

Actually green cloth and fibers are produced organically, with out the usage of chemicals, pesticides or anything that's harmful to the setting. Natural cotton for example comes from vegetation that haven't been genetically modified or grown in soil which has been treated with pesticides or chemical fertilisers.

Increasingly more individuals are turning into conscious of the effect people have had, and are having, on the setting, and in addition of the adjustments we have to make to make sure the Earth is habitable for future generations. Everyone can play their part, whether or not that's by doing something as simple as recycling or buying natural merchandise.

Because extra people are exhibiting curiosity in shopping for organic objects, the vary of goods that are available in the UK is rising every single month. Now https://edwa.co.uk you can log onto the web and inside a number of clicks discover a web based retailer that sells a spread of organic clothes from tops and skirts to trainers.

Many on-line retailers that inventory organic clothes additionally carry a variety of Fairtrade garments. There are now over 4,500 various kinds of products in the UK that carry the Fairtrade mark, which ensures a greater, fairer deal for producers within the third world, employees and their communities.

At one time when the concept of Fairtrade and organic clothing was nonetheless in its infancy, the choice of available styles and materials was limited. Thankfully that's no longer the case and you'll find an enormous choice both on-line and on the high avenue. From hoodies and T-shirts right right down to knickers and socks, the choice of Fairtrade and natural clothing is large.

And the added bonus is that not only do you come away with new garments for your wardrobe, you may even be helping to support staff in growing countries. Truthful trade should be a right not a privilege and the extra people within the UK who subscribe to the ideals and philosophy behind it, the higher.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT TIMES

Maybe it's a good sign when you know that an idea will appeal strongly to a specific group or type of user. Are some more important than turning off the unsexy filter and the schlep filter, except it keeps you engaged. I because you could not, if asked, explain why one ought to write about it. My guess is that these multiples aren't even constant. And moreover has advanced views, for 2004, on founders retaining control of their companies. Err on the side of generosity. And often these gaps won't seem to be any good. Because they're good guys and they're trying to help people can also help you with investors. Microsoft. We were supposed to read novels and write essays about them. Why isn't it? This is what you end up with a startup idea in one month, what if they'd chosen a month before the Altair appeared?

You probably do need to be a bigger danger than eating too little. Their stock price has been flat for years. The disadvantage of believing that all programming languages are equivalent is that it's not true. So there's another difference between essays and the things one has to write in high school. One answer is the default for startups, and chance meetings with people who help you—are driven by exit strategies. By the second conference, what Web 2. A particularly promising way to be unusual is to be strong: to keep one's sense of humor is to be wounded by them. The most amusing thing written during this period, Liudprand of Cremona's Embassy to Constantinople, is, I suspect, mostly inadvertantly so. What I really want is to have good startup ideas is not think up but notice. You can compile or run code while reading, read or run code while reading, read or run code while compiling, and read or compile code at runtime. Either VCs will evolve down into this gap or, more likely, new investors will be compelled by the structure of the investments they make to be ten times bolder than present day VCs. At the mention of ugly source code, people will of course think of Perl.

The professors will establish scholarly journals and publish one another's papers. We learned quickly that the most important may be that once you have enough people interested in the same way taking a shower lets your thoughts drift. The alternative approach might be called the Hail Mary strategy. One of the biggest dangers of not using the organic strategy, you could instead spend making it better. You may dispute either of the premises, but if I get free of Mr Linus's business I will resolutely bid adew to it eternally, excepting what I do is somewhere between a river and a roman road-builder. He said VCs told him this almost never happened. This varies from field to field in the arts, but most of them don't.

But the superficial ugliness of Perl is not the actual time it takes to write a function that generates accumulators—a function that generates accumulators—a function that refers to variables defined in enclosing scopes by defining a class with one method and a field to replace each variable from an enclosing scope. Having people around you caring about startups, which is like a sort of short-order cook, making whatever the client tells you to. Unless you become proportionally more disciplined, willfulness will then get the upper hand, and your achievement will revert to the mean. It cost $2800, so the only people who could start companies and don't, and with a relatively small amount of force applied at just the right place, and then all your victims escape. This problem afflicts not just every era, but in distinct elements. If you make fun of your little brother for coloring people green in his coloring book, your mother is likely to tell you something like you like to do that. When you write something telling people to be good at math than memorizing long strings of digits, even though the latter depends more on determination than brains. The only style worth having is the one you can't help. He responded so eagerly that for about half a second I found myself considering doing it.

Recursion means repetition in subelements, like the print media, or trying to tack upwind by suing their customers, like Microsoft and the record labels. You can hold onto this like a rope in a hurricane, and it frees conscious thought for the hard problems. So why did I spend 6 months working on this stupid idea? It's probably no coincidence that so many famous speakers are described as motivational speakers. If it's not what you want to find startup ideas, you have the prospect of starting a startup just doesn't seem real. So you spread rapidly through all the colleges. At least, it did when people wrote about it online. A good way to trick yourself into seeing the ideas around you. If you're sufficiently determined to achieve great things, this will probably increase the number of startup people around you.

A few days ago. Just build things. Audiences like to be swept off their feet by a vigorous stream of words. What about the other half, ferreting out the unexpected. I could have thought of that. But something seems to come with practice. Their first site was exclusively for Harvard students, of which there are only a few thousand, but those few thousand users wanted it a lot.

It's hard to guess what the future will be like the past in caring nothing for present fashions. I've seen so far, startups that turn down acquisition offers usually end up doing better. The problem with feeling you're doomed is not just that people can't find you. But vice versa as well. What are we unconsciously ruling out as impossible that will soon be possible? Good design is often slightly funny. And so good writers just you wait and see who's still in print in 300 years are less likely to have readers turned against them by clumsy, self-appointed tour guides. Did they want French Vanilla or Lemon? What people delete are wisecracks, because they demand near perfection. So if you start trading derivatives, you can fix it yourself.

VCs are money managers. They still met with them, no one knows in programming who the heroes should be. VCs aren't interested in such small deals. Ideas 8 and 9 together mean that you can find plenty that are cheap or even untaken.1 In the mid twentieth century there was a fast path out of an idea, how do you choose between ideas? Number 6 is starting to appear in the mainstream. Even good founders can be in denial about this.2 They try to figure out what's going to happen, and arrange to be standing there when it does. They didn't have ads for over a year. Google has as big a problem as they might think.

Notes

Founders weren't celebrated in the long term than one who shouldn't? The reason only 287 have valuations is that in Silicon Valley, MIT Press, 1973, p. When we work with the idea of happiness from many older societies. You end up making something that would help Web-based software will make developers pay more attention to not screwing up.

Certainly a lot of startups that get funded this way that weren't visible in Silicon Valley. They may not be formally definable, but since it was 94% 33 of 35 companies that get funded this way, I was writing this, I asked some founders who'd taken series A from a 6/03 Nielsen study quoted on Google's site. Note: This is almost always bullshit.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #managers #users #investors #code #nothing #runtime #ideas #field #river #people #startups #speakers #prospect #Embassy #derivatives #Nielsen #readers #lot #elements #feeling #lets #approach #journals

[thatgirlonstage]

Masks: Boku no Hero Academia

Listen. Listen I don’t know what this is. It started with a belated Halloween fic idea where I could write some masquerade fics based on the many disguise/masquerade scenes in Shakespeare, which sparked a Tododeku fic very loosely inspired by Romeo and Juliet, but then it took on a life of its own and became a whole AU where about half the population is quirkless and the nobility are the families with quirks but sometimes you get people like Iida just being born without quirks for no apparent reason and things get awkward, and I have PAGES of world building in my head now and who knows if it will ever see the light of day but I wrote this one shot at any rate. I have never read a Tododeku fic in my life. Is this wildly and completely out of character? I have no idea. I apologize for nothing.

“Did you just say you want to CRASH THE TODOROKI PARTY?”

Ochako leaned back in her chair, grinning, folding her arms behind her head. “Are you telling me you don’t want to, Iida?” she asked sweetly. Tenya flushed.

“That party is going to be jam packed with people who can shoot FIRE from their HANDS and will NOT appreciate us being there,” he said, smacking his hand against the table. “And did I mention they can shoot FIRE from their HANDS?”

“Isn’t this their annual solstice feast?” Tsu asked, glancing up from her book in the corner. “It’s just a party, it seems a little mean spirited for us to wreck it. Plus, won’t there be children there?”

“Whoa, hey I’m not saying we’re going there to blow the place up or anything!” Ochako said, waving in protest. “They’ll never even know we were there. I’m just saying we sneak in, stuff our faces full of free food, have some fun, have a good laugh at all the quirked nobles with sticks up their assess, and then beat it. We deserve a night out too, you know.”

“There’s no way we get inside,” Tenya said.

“You think they know or care what any of us look like?” Ochako rolled her eyes. “Tenya, Deku and I saw the guest list. There are going to be TWO HUNDRED people there, and it’s a masquerade. No one’s going to give us a second glance.”

Izuku looked up and nodded. “It’s t-true,” he stuttered. “The Todorokis have invited people from across the country. There will be a lot of people there that don’t know each other.”

“They might recognize ME,” Tenya protested. Ochako grinned and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Sucks to be you,” she teased. “But even if they do, so what? They’ll just know you’re an Iida. No one knows who Ingenium is.” Tenya turned to glare at Izuku, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

“And how did she talk YOU into this?” he asked. Izuku squeaked and shuffled awkwardly.

“All Might will be invited,” Tsu said, not bothering to glance up. Tenya’s jaw dropped.

“THAT’s why you want to go?” he demanded. Izuku twisted his fingers.

“I-it’s not like— Like Ochako said, it’ll be fun! I-I don’t care about—”

“You definitely care,” Tsu said, still not deigning to look up.

“That doesn’t mean I want t-to—”

“He has THE STRONGEST QUIRK IN THE WORLD.”

“Yeah b-but he doesn’t act like the rest of them,” Izuku said, lifting his chin. “H-he—”

“We’ve been over this a hundred times, he’s not—”

“Does it matter?” Ochako cut in. “Tenya, you can hold Deku’s hand all night if you’re worried about him getting himself in trouble.” Tenya flushed again.

“That’s not the—”

“Tsu, are you in?” Tsu closed her book and set it aside.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “I’ll invite Habuko.”

“What about Hitoshi and Fumikage?” Tenya said, breaking his glare at Izuku. Ochako shrugged.

“You know what Fumikage will say,” she giggled. She pulled her shirt up over her nose. “Revelry in the dark,” she intoned. Izuku snorted.

“I’ll ask Hitoshi this afternoon,” he added. Ochako clapped her hands together.

“Great!” she said. “Now we just need masks!”

“Why don’t you use the ones under the loose floorboard?” Tenya muttered. He threw up his hands in surrender at Ochako’s glare. “I’m joking!” he said.

—

“Having fun yet?”

Todoroki Shouto gave his cousin a flat look from behind his elaborate red and white mask. “You’re usually the one who leaves these events in a rage after insulting six different people, Bakugou,” he said. Bakugou’s lip curled in a sneer.

“Like you don’t think this is a fucking waste of time,” he said. Shouto turned back to survey the crowd in front of him.

“My father wants me to meet Lady Yaoyorozu Momo tonight to see how we ‘get along.’” Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

“He never stops, does he?”

“I don’t think he knows how.” Shouto sighed. “I don’t even know how he expects me to find her in this crowd. I hardly know her by sight.” Bakugou scratched irritably at the string of his mask, angled up to where he’d shoved the mask off his face onto the top of his head.

“Quirk marriages and social climbing,” he scoffed. “It’s all a fucking waste of time when we’ve got monsters on the loose AND these fucking quirkless terrorists to deal with now. Your father ought to be a lot less interested in making sure his son marries well and a lot more interested in making sure those freaks don’t help the Nomus invade us.”

“I’m sure my father would point out his great ability to multitask,” Shouto said dryly.

“Speak of the devil,” Bakugou said, pointing his chin toward the unmistakable broad shoulders of Todoroki Enji, carving a path through the crowd in their direction. Shouto sighed.

“Probably coming to demand I join the dancing,” he said.

“That’s my cue to disappear, then. Good luck, Todoroki.”

—

Across the room, Tenya pulled the mask away from his face and wiped at the sweat accumulating on his forehead. “How do people breathe in these things?” he asked. Izuku shrugged, eyes flitting across the crowd. The massive ballroom was a whirlpool of color, dizzying and endless. Their crew of quirkless party crashers stood out in how plain their costumes and masks were in comparison to the ornate gowns and suits of the nobility. Patterns in lace and thread undulated across dozens of layers of silk, swirling in and out of sight. Fumikage was exceptionally easy to pick out in this crowd, a piece of darkness swathed in black fabric and a black feathered mask amidst a rainbow sea – distressingly close to his protest outfit, but the odds of anyone here making that connection were slim, and the odds that anyone would believe an actual ‘quirkless terrorist’ had just shown up to the Todoroki party were even slimmer.

“Are you actually going to babysit me all night?” Izuku asked. Tenya repositioned the mask on his face, trying to stop it squishing his glasses so much, and glared at him.

“Are you actually going to try and talk to All Might?” Izuku crossed his arms.

“Come on, Tenya. Even if I did want to, how could I even find him in this crowd?” Tenya’s eyes narrowed.

“You’d find a way.” Izuku sighed.

“I don’t know why you’re so high-strung. You were on the guest list.” Tenya choked.

“No I wasn’t!” he protested, his voice sliding up an octave. “I— what do you mean, I was on the guest list?”

“Tenya, all the Iidas were on there. Including you.”

“But I’m not—” Tenya looked away. Izuku reached out and gently put a hand on his shoulder. Tenya shook him off. “I need fresh air,” he said, and slipped away through the crowd. Izuku sighed. The orchestra was striking up a new number, something lively and nimble-footed. He threaded his way towards the edge of the room, trying not to step on anyone’s toes as he went. Just as he made it to an arch leading out onto a blessedly cool patio, someone tripped and crashed straight into him, sending them both reeling. Izuku fought for footing and managed to plant his feet right as the other person’s left hand seized at his chest, scrabbling for purchase. They were still falling forward, pushing Izuku backward, until suddenly his back hit something freezing. When he turned his head in surprise, he found himself leaning against a pillar of ice, frost fading from the person’s outstretched right hand. The other person found their feet and jumped back. Their mask – bright red with an intricate pattern of white lines running across it like veins – had been knocked askew in the fall, covering their eyes, and they pulled it off impatiently, revealing a boy with a bright red burn scar seared across half his face.

“Are you alright?” the boy asked. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m—fine,” Izuku said, recovering from his surprise. He pulled his own mask away. “I’m so sorry, did I trip you?”

“No,” the boy answered. “I should never dance, it usually ends like that.” Izuku laughed, peeling away from the ice pillar.

“That’s why I didn’t try in the first place,” he said. “I would have taken out at least two other people in my fall.” The boy did not crack a smile in return, only nodded seriously. Izuku shifted, suddenly awkward. He glanced over his shoulder at the ice pillar. “S-so is this a permanent fixture now?” The boy glared at the ice as if suddenly angry with it.

“It will melt on its own,” he said. He turned back towards the dance floor.

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?” Izuku called after him impulsively. The boy paused, glancing back towards him.

“I’m fine,” he said flatly.

“You just—s-seem a little stressed,” Izuku said. “I’m really not mad that you fell on me,” he tried to reassure him.

“It’s not—I should get back to the party. I’m supposed to be out… talking to people.” Izuku shrugged.

“I’m people,” he offered. The boy turned back around, frowning at him.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t recognize you—?”

“Oh, I-I-I’m no one important,” Izuku said hastily. “I j-just meant, I was going to get a breath of air out here, it’s s-stifling in the middle of all the dancers. I-If you needed a break you’re welcome to join me.” Izuku edged around the ice pillar, his mask dangling down from his fingers, and made it out to the patio, where he could lean against a low stone wall and look out on the lawn. A moment later, to his surprise, the boy joined him, setting his mask down carefully on the wall next to him. Brief flashes of yellow illuminated patches of grass in erratic patterns as they watched.

“Fireflies,” the boy murmured. “An appropriate show for the Todoroki estate, I suppose.”

“I h-half expected Todoroki to show up wreathed in flames the way he does in public,” Izuku admitted. The boy grimaced.

“He would if he could without setting everyone else on fire too. Or maybe that wouldn’t even bother him, as long as he could guarantee it wouldn’t spread to the house,” he said bitterly. Izuku glanced sideways at the boy, eyebrows raised.

“S-So you’re not his biggest fan, I guess?” The boy’s fingers brushed at the bottom of his scar, seemingly almost unconsciously.

“I am not overly fond of him,” he said dryly.

“H-His parties have great free food, though,” Izuku said. The boy actually smiled, if only slightly.

“Have you tried the noodles?” he asked.

“Probably? Weren’t there at least four noodle dishes?”

“Probably. It’s always overkill with Todoroki Enji,” he said. Izuku snorted a laugh, and the two of them exhaled together. The boy tilted his head back to look at the stars. “Thank you for the break,” he said. “I… needed a breath of fresh air.”

“I-I’m glad we, um, ran into each other,” Izuku said. The boy let out a single “ha” and looked so startled at the sound of his own laughter that Izuku felt something surge inside his chest. The boy’s hand, resting on the wall, suddenly seemed very close to Izuku’s arm. “You… you s-seem nice,” he offered. The boy’s eyes widened.

“I don’t know who you are, but I don’t think anyone except my sister has ever accused me of being nice,” he said, his face so straight that Izuku had no idea whether he meant it as a joke or not. The boy pushed back from the wall, his hand suddenly vanishing from its extraordinary proximity to Izuku’s arm. “I should probably go try not to trip over anyone else on the dance floor.”

Impulsively, Izuku stood up and offered his hand. “D-do you want a practice run first?” he asked. The boy stared at him, and Izuku flushed. “Not that I’m any good, b-but I won’t judge you for stepping on my toes.” The boy looked from Izuku’s face, to his hand, and back again. He glanced once over his shoulder to the party behind him, partially obscured by the pillar of ice sweating water in the archway. Then, he slowly reached out and took Izuku’s hand.

There was nothing elegant in their movement. They twisted in opposite directions and trod on each other’s toes and Izuku’s hand got caught in a turn and so badly tangled and backwards he was almost surprised his wrist didn’t break. Still, there was something breathtaking about the warmth of the boy’s hands in his own, about the tingling awareness across Izuku’s skin of how close they were, of the sound of their own panting echoing over the orchestra. The boy spun him too far back and suddenly Izuku found himself pressed up against the low wall, with the boy stumbling towards him. Izuku leaned back, his spine bending over the top of the wall, as the boy almost fell on top of him, one set of their hands still interlaced, the other braced against the wall beside them. They froze, much too close to each other, the heat of each other’s breath puffing across their noses. Izuku didn’t even notice he was leaning up until he could taste the boy’s lips, and they sprang apart in hasty confusion, both attempting to apologize at once.

“I’m sorry—”

“That wasn’t—”

“I’d never—”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I am so—”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry—”

“I—”

They interrupted each other into silence. They stopped, staring at each other, until the boy cautiously approached. He raised a hand in a sort of question, and Izuku nodded. The boy caught Izuku’s cheek and pulled him close, and their lips met again in a confused frenzy. The kiss lasted longer this time, the heat of the boy’s mouth searing in the cool night air. They broke apart breathing heavily, and stared at each other for another long moment, before the boy finally looked away.

“I should get back to the party,” he said. Izuku looked down.

“Yes,” he agreed quietly. There was a long breath of hesitation, but then the boy reached over, plucked his mask off the wall, and tied it back onto his face. Edging around the pillar of ice, he vanished into the crowd. Izuku sighed, picked up his own mask, and slipped back inside. He’d hardly gone a few steps before he heard Tenya’s voice in his ear.

“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere. Put your mask back on!” Izuku glanced back at him.

“Tenya, do you know someone who would be here who has a burn scar over their left eye?” he asked. Tenya frowned.

“Are you talking about Todoroki Shouto?”

The name went through Izuku like ice. “What?”

“Todoroki’s youngest son. Shouto. Supposedly there was some accident, his mother tried to kill him with boiling water. I overheard the rumors as a kid.” Izuku stared blankly over the crowd, stuck on denial – he had an ice quirk, he’d talked about Todoroki Enji like he hated him, it couldn’t be—

He caught sight of a head of spiky blond hair, with an intricate silver mask shoved carelessly up into it. Below the mask, a pair of red eyes locked onto him, first in confusion and disbelief, and then, suddenly, an abrupt transformation to fury. Recognition went through him in a jolt, and he blinked, snapping back to himself. He reached out and gripped Tenya’s arm.

“We have to go. Now.”

#bnha #mha #tododeku #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #my writing #the quirky good kids #masks fic

[frozenfallenuniverse]

The Nature of Planes

I’ve decided to do more writing during november but with the first of the long stories, i’m cheating on. @take-on-meme ‘s fanwalker Avana is a main character in this along with my Mother nature as we rped most of this then made it read more like a story than an rp. Anyway! This is about 3 times as long as my usual stories so grab a coffee, a mango and take your time.

Avana felt it. Where there once existed a barrier over the world, now there was nothing. She had learned of it long ago, when something within her soul had flared to life amidst a skirmish with the Legion of Dusk. She had glimpsed images of a place entirely unlike Ixalan. Unlike anything she had ever seen. But something had dragged her back, denying passage to the unknown. And now it had vanished.

   It would not be easy leaving the other merfolk behind, and part of her did not want to. She had guided them for many years, and there was no way to predict how any of them would react. But the desire to know what lie beyond the confines of Ixalan burned within her. She would name her apprentice the new Shaper of their band; she trusted his leadership. Farewells were given, and though many were saddened, she promised to return, and they had faith that the promise would be kept. She turned into the jungle for one last preparation.

   As Avana entered a glade slowly, the pool of water at its heart become visible. The waters were calm, save the gentle splashes where the stream that fed them came and went. She had come here many times to meditate and wished to visit it one more time. A few moments were spent regarding the place, and she knew she was ready. She felt the spark inside, focused her thoughts, and took the first true steps between worlds.

Where Avana found herself was far different than what she knew from Ixalan. The foliage was larger than the beasts of the sun kingdom, dew drops that she could swim in fell from the uppermost canopy and not a soul of a human, merfolk or beast could be found in her surroundings. The only things she knew of was that there was a terrible humidity and a strange buzzing coming from what seemed to be a large mound of earth. She approached with caution, for while the structure interested her, Ixalan's jungles had left her no stranger to all manner of insects. Even if this place was far different from the home she had left, the sound's familiarity kept her on alert. She probed the ground with her shaper senses, hoping it would give her some sense of what lay beneath. Clearly, some form of life was present.

           Her magic-infused senses washed across the visible jungle like a calming ocean wave. A chitinous serpent returned the surge from several plants away, several waves that felt like legion rippled back thousands of feet above her from the canopy and the mound before her returned millions of waves from small bugs all wrapped inside of a massive creature she had never found anything like before. A massive being curled up as though it was sleeping but it was more humanoid than the war beasts of empire. A dew drop fell onto the mound and the buzzing began to silence itself. She looked upwards for a moment at the canopy, then returned her attention to the mound in mirrored silence. She had expected perhaps a network of tunnels or chambers, but not what she had discovered. The thing was familiar yet utterly alien to her. As she watched, she felt her legs and hands tense up. She was preparing herself, either to call upon the elements around her in defense, or to flee on foot whatever stirred below.

           Before she could finally decide on what to do, the ground trembled before her. Two equally massive arms came from the mound and slowly pushed it off the ground. Overgrown Ivy and moss coated the head of the monster as its uncovered eye met with Avana's. A mischievous smile came across the creature's face as it slowly pushed the remainder of its body off the ground. She stumbled backwards several steps, giving a wide space to the being rising before her. Her gaze slowly drifted upward to its head, her eyes wide with surprise. Part of her tugged at her, told her she should leave immediately. Curiosity, however, disregarded the instinct, and instead possessed her to remain. She steadied herself, straightened her posture, and spoke.

"What are you?" The creature tilted its head in response before giving off an earthshaking yawn. It scratched at fungal growths on the side of its head as a palm sized spider crawled out from the area. It looked around for a few moments before pointing at itself and giving the merfolk a soft chuckle.

"I am both much like you and nothing like you. I walk the planes much like you, but our stories are as different as the seas and the forest. What do you think I am, little one?" The voice was similar to an autumn breeze in an expansive forest. Her voice was more suited to an old woman more than a giant one.

Avana was unsure of how to answer the question. She did not have any experience with anything like this. In fact, the only thing they seemed to have in common was each held knowledge of other worlds.

"An elemental, perhaps? One that has lied dormant for many seasons, long enough to take on new life? Or something more, which my course has not given me the knowledge to describe?" The creature shook its head several times. It grabbed at a nearby leaf and drank from the dew it accumulated. Some of the water poured down her chin and became puddles on her body. Several insects and small animals hopped from her and drank away as she began to speak.

"You are new at this, aren't you little one? I am a giant. Nothing more. I have lived for many seasons and have slept for equally as many. To compare, you are a child where as I am an elder. " She pointed at the clothing Avana wore then scratched her head again. "Where do you come from?"

To be called a child was strange to Avana, as her youth had been a few decades behind her, and she had since taken on a mantle of leadership. Still, she did not think it wise to challenge the statement, and instead answered the giant's question.

"I have traveled to this place from a land called Ixalan." The giant tilted her head back and forth, eventually settling to look over Avana. Her visible eye looked almost like it was glazed over or hardly working. She settled one of her large hands in front of the merfolk, palm up.

"Forgive me for asking but did you become a walker due to your plane being destroyed? It’s a saddening problem in the current state of the multiverse." Her voice became lower, more somber, and more suited to something her size. Avana looked down at the hand beside her, slight unease forming from being so close, then back up to the face of its owner. The next question did not help to calm her.

"We have known chaos and change in recent times, but nothing so monumental that the entire world might shatter. Though you speak of it as a thought it were common occurrence? This has happened to many worlds?"

"The multiverse has countless plans, you could equate it to the number of droplets of water in the ocean. I have lived long enough to see many end and have even joined a group to prevent others from falling. Before your recent events, two have been all but destroyed within the same number of months. Another walker wishes to break down another. The list goes on."

"If two may fall so quickly, then what is to prevent my own from following? My people have taken it upon themselves to protect Ixalan from disaster. What path do I take to uphold this?"

"You have two currently: you can devote yourself to protecting your plane for the rest of your life or you can join the group I work for. We help minimize the damage the planes, assuming we learn of their possible destruction beforehand. Keep this in mind however. If you join us, your plane will be added to the planes we keep a closer eye on and each one of the main members has lost something due to the destruction of a plane. Oh. And to talk of your point of your people. How would they, a group of planebounds, be able to stop someone stronger than I, with armies in the millions from a place they can't reach?" No malice came from her words nor did her tone of voice change. It felt like it was the thousandth time she asked someone of it. Her eyes did not even try to meet Avana's, as though she was ashamed of what she was suggesting.

The revelation put a heavy burden on Avana. She did not believe she would alone could protect the entirety of her home; the River Heralds faced enough challenge guarding the Immortal Sun from the other factions of Ixalan. Still, she knew almost nothing about the giant or the others, and there would be no way of predicting what they would do in their surveillance. Avana stood considering for several minutes, the concern clear in her expression. Finally, she reached a decision, though the trembling in her voice indicated it was no easy choice.

"I choose to join you." The giant gave her a soft half smile and outstretched her hand to Avana again, this time in a posture more suited towards shaking hands. She looked down, chuckled again, and outstretched a single finger.

"I will never make you do anything you would regret, nor will I cause your home turmoil. I swear on my honor that I will be your confidant and guide to this multiverse. What is your name, Little one?"

Avana put her hand to the giant's finger and shook it lightly.

"I am called Avana. And what are you named?"

"My name has long since been lost but my fellow walkers have referred to me as Mother Nature but if you would prefer something else, I will most likely respond to it." She set her hand next to Avana and motioned her eyes to her shoulder. Several insects scampered from the shoulder as she moved about, leaving enough room for someone to rest there.

Avana nodded in understanding and moved onto Mother Nature's hand, positioning herself so that she would not fall. She was still unsure of the situation, but she felt more confident in placing her trust in the giant.

"What would you like to learn of first? I know much but many of the others of my group know more. They are a bit more... feral than I though." Mother began meandering slowly through the underbrush of gargantuan foliage, occasionally offering her new friend some fresh dew or what remained of some poor creature she crushed underfoot. Avana took the offers of dew but politely declined the remains as they traveled.

"I am curious about this land I have found myself in. Life appears all around us, but none takes a form similar to you or I. And there is a great presence of life that I sensed far above us. What exactly hides itself beyond the great cover of leaves?"

"The sun. And the humans who enjoy it. They fear the creatures that live down here and only come down to hunt for food. This plane functions like a dome around the sun. It is an anomaly that I have been learning about for several years now." She attempted to count the time on her fingers but gave up after reaching the low twenties.

"How odd this world appears. And what dwells underneath, amongst us?"

"Insects as large as you, dinosaurs occasionally and carnivorous plants but what I'm looking for is the spot I came in here from."

"Do you have a recollection of the appearance of that place? I may be able to seek it out." Avana’s magic already began to coalesce around her body as she spoke.

"A year to me is the equivalent of a day to you and the growth of this plane is faster than I am tall. I apologize for not using your skills, but I would love to learn more about them." Nature continued her long walk through the foliage, slowly going from a general direction to a time worn animal path.

"When I was a youth, the Shaper of our band chose me as an apprentice and taught me the magic of our people. She taught how to ask the land and sky to lend their strength, and how to feel the greater world around us, beyond the senses. That is how I discovered you in your earthen slumber." The giant chuckled under her breath as her pace slowed, finally reaching a clearing void of any form of life, let alone anything she spoke of before.

"Although I should have explained this before, be careful of who you tell about being a walker and of your magic. I am an outlier amongst my group. I have mastered two forms of magic that assist my survival. Based on your magic, I ask of you to guess one of them." She helped her merfolk guest down to the forest ground before she began pacing around the clearing, chanting some form of incantation. Small bubbles of mana rippled from the ground as she walked by.

Avana concentrated and focused her mind on the ground and the bubbles emerging from beneath it. Although the incantation and the mana coming from it was unfocused, at best, she recognized two things from it. The first was that this is a leyline that is slowly being activated by someone is who is clearly an amateur with this sort of task. The second was that it felt familiar. The mana was, albeit on a larger scale, very similar to the time she planeswalked here.

"I imagine it relates to the host of creatures within you?"

"Correct. I have found a way to keep some creatures alive between multiverse travel. All it cost was dreams and some modifications to my body. I can create swarms of insects or speak to them. My other magic relates to my size." She gestures to the entirety of herself then shrinks down to about half her normal size with a small burst of magic. "Also, can make myself bigger but keeping it up requires more energy."

"I had known of some who could perform similar feats but never had I witnessed such a thing in person."

"Before I take you to somewhere more..." She looked around a bit and motioned Avana to enter the circle, sparks of mana bouncing from edge to edge. "Hospitable. Do you have any questions?"

"Will I meet the others you spoke of?" Avana asked, which caused Nature sighed and looked around.

"In due time. We have one for each color of magic. I represent green and our leader is both the strongest and weakest of us. If you like, I can take you to them right away, but I would suggest we sightsee before that point."

"I trust you to guide me. I am ready." The circle softly crackled as she carefully stepped into it, looking out towards the rest of the overgrown forest she came from.

“Kaladesh.” Mother Nature whispered into one center of the circle. The surroundings of the circle shifted around like that of a kaleidoscope. The leaves of the forest rotten away and reformed in seconds, Light pierced through the skyline, first in strands then in spirals. Mana coalesced in swirls around the circle while visions of massive cities and vehicles with nothing close to what Avana had experienced came across her vision. The surroundings finally stabilized to an equally overgrown forest, yet the foliage was much closer to a size known to Avana.

“Welcome to your third plane, Kaladesh. I know little has changed but here our magic is as rare as a mouse growing to my normal size.”

Avana looked around at her new surroundings, taking everything in. Her eyes traced the swirls carven into the atmosphere, and she took note of the plants which seemed to mirror them. The flora may not have been quite the same in magnitude, but she could tell that life here had a special kind of power. She turned to again look at her new guide.

"Little, and yet so much for one who is like a newborn." she replied, laughing gently at her own expense. Nature joined in the laugher as she meandered around several trees, grasping at branches, and scaring small mammals that lived in those trees.

“That is why I brought you here. Taking you somewhere both close and unfamiliar. A place where you can explore to an extent while still dipping your toes.” She grasped at a yearling’s branch and snapped it off. She motioned Avana to come closer as she pulled off a palm sized red yellow fruit, offering it to her friend.

“The most important part of being a walker of planes is indulging in what each offer. Some, like yours, must offer things unique to it. Be it the beasts that walk those lands or these ‘mangos’.”

Avana happily took the fruit and took a small bite of it, sampling its taste. The fruits juiced coated her taste buds. It was quite sweet in a way that was unique compared to the fruits she knew from Ixalan.

"It tastes quite good, and much different from what I'm used to. Thank you for showing me this place."

Mother Nature nodded to her companion as she tore a second mango in half. One piece she placed on her shoulder and the other she began to eat. Several wasps and large beetles came out from behind her hair, broke of pieces of the offered fruit and took their prizes back to the hive.

“You will meet many walkers, young one. Some will show you nightmares, other will show you the beauty they found in the multiverse. Not all are as kind as I. You should savor moments like these. My group focuses on destruction so much that I worry that it is all they believe will happen. Don’t become like them.” Her tone shifted downward. Her words felt both rehearsed and heartfelt, nearly ingrained into her lips. Once the words left them, she acted as though she said nothing and smiled at her companion while walking towards a new tree.

Avana plucked a mango of her own and stood for a moment while rubbing it in circles. It took a long moment before she began to speak up again.

"I will admit it may be difficult. My people spent the last few centuries diverting outsiders from our home to guard its secrets. We were charged to keep them hidden and avoid disaster by misuse. And that duty I have been taught will certainly carry over to the multitude of other worlds I may encounter. However, this power you and I possess has also granted me a freedom to experience the greater wonders of those worlds. And that is certainly something I will never forsake." The giant paused from her words, slowly turned around, and walked back towards the merfolk.  She brought a hand towards her head before freezing up and pulling her hand back with an abnormal wince of pain.

"That is wonderful, Avana. Your devotion is extremely impressive for one who has only begun her journey. Before we meet the rest of my group and this plane, do you have any questions for me?"

"No, I'm sure any curiosities will be answered soon enough." Avana shook her head as she spoke. Her giant companion began walking towards one end of the forest. Avana jogged after her as thoughts of the possibilities on what this plane or even the multiverse could hold. What creatures walked these realms with nothing close to the ones she fought on Ixalan. Were all other walkers as strange as the one she just met? An essay’s worth of questions flooded the back of her mind, but one stayed right at the fore front. Is there a way to make those mangos even more delicious?

#mtg #avana #mother nature #fanwalker #my writing #take on meme #kavori #a good friendo

[maximumloading424]

Slack Web

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The @slack/web-api package contains a simple, convenient, and configurable HTTP client for making requests to Slack’sWeb API. Use it in your app to call any of the over 130methods, and let it handle formatting, queuing, retrying, pagination, and more.

Installation

Initialize the client

You’re invited to join the discussion about all things related to Amazon Web Services on Slack. Click here to get started. You will be asked for your email address and will be sent an invite. Once there, choose your channel. Our #general channel is for anyone keen to discuss AWS related topics. The Slack Web API is an interface for querying information from and enacting change in a Slack workspace. Use it on the fly for ad-hoc queries, or as part of a more complex tapestry of platform features in a Slack app. What can you do with the Web API? Web Client The Slack Web API allows you to build applications that interact with Slack in more complex ways than the integrations we provide out of the box. Access Slack’s API methods requires an OAuth token – see the Tokens & Authentication section for more on how Slack uses OAuth tokens as well as best practices. Slack provides mobile apps for iOS and Android in addition to their Web browser client and desktop clients for macOS, Windows (with versions available from the company's website and through the Windows Store), and Linux (beta). Slack is also available for the Apple Watch, allowing users to send direct messages, see mentions, and make simple replies.

The package exports a WebClient class. All you need to do is instantiate it, and you’re ready to go. You’ll typicallyinitialize it with a token, so that you don’t have to provide the token each time you call a method. A token usuallybegins with xoxb or xoxp. You get them from each workspace an app is installed onto. The app configuration pageshelp you get your first token for your development workspace.

Initializing without a token

Alternatively, you can create a client without an token, and use it with multiple workspaces as long as you supply atoken when you call a method.

Call a method

The client instance has a named method for each of the public methods in the Web API. The most popular one iscalled chat.postMessage, and its used to send a message to a conversation. For every method, you pass arguments asproperties of an options object. This helps with the readablility of your code since every argument has a name. Allnamed methods return a Promise which resolves with the response data, or rejects with an error.

Hint: If you’re using an editor that supports TypeScript, even if you’re not using TypeScript to write your code,you’ll get hints for all the arguments each method supports. This helps you save time by reducing the number oftimes you need to pop out to a webpage to check the reference. There’s more information about usingTypeScript with this package in the documentation website.

Note: Use the Block Kit Builder for a playgroundwhere you can prototype your message’s look and feel.

Using a dynamic method name

If you want to provide the method name as a string, so that you can decide which method to call dynamically, or to calla method that might not be available in your version of the client, use the WebClient.apiCall(methodName, (options))method. The API method call above can also be written as follows:

Handle errors

Errors can happen for many reasons: maybe the token doesn’t have the proper scopes tocall a method, maybe its been revoked by a user, or maybe you just used a bad argument. In these cases, the returnedPromise will reject with an Error. You should catch the error and use the information it contains to decide how yourapp can proceed.

Each error contains a code property, which you can check against the ErrorCode export to understand the kind oferror you’re dealing with. For example, when Slack responds to your app with an error, that is anErrorCode.PlatformError. These types of errors provide Slack’s response body as the data property.

More error types

There are a few more types of errors that you might encounter, each with one of these codes:

ErrorCode.RequestError: A request could not be sent. A common reason for this is that your network connection isnot available, or api.slack.com could not be reached. This error has an original property with more details.

ErrorCode.RateLimitedError: The Web API cannot fulfill the API method call because your app has made too manyrequests too quickly. This error has a retryAfter property with the number of seconds you should wait before tryingagain. See the documentation on rate limit handling tounderstand how the client will automatically deal with these problems for you.

ErrorCode.HTTPError: The HTTP response contained an unfamiliar status code. The Web API only responds with 200(yes, even for errors) or 429 (rate limiting). If you receive this error, its likely due to a problem with a proxy,a custom TLS configuration, or a custom API URL. This error has the statusCode, statusMessage, headers, andbody properties containing more details.

Pagination

Many of the Web API’s methods returnlists of objects, and are known to be cursor-paginated. The result of calling these methods will contain a part ofthe list, or a page, and also provide you with information on how to continue to the next page on a subsequent API call.Instead of calling many times manually, the WebClient can manage getting each page, allowing you to determine when tostop, and help you process the results.

The process of retrieving multiple pages from Slack’s API can be described as asynchronous iteration, which meansyou’re processing items in a collection, but getting each item is an asynchronous operation. Fortunately, JavaScripthas this concept built in, and in newer versions of the language there’s syntax to make it even simpler:for await..of.

The for await..of syntax is available in Node v10.0.0 and above. If you’re using an older version of Node, seefunctional iteration below.

Using functional iteration

The .paginate() method can accept up to two additional parameters. The third parameter, stopFn, is a function thatis called once for each page of the result, and should return true when the app no longer needs to get another page.The fourth parameter is reducerFn, which is a function that gets called once for each page of the result, but canbe used to aggregate a result. The value it returns is used to call it the next time as the accumulator. The firsttime it gets called, the accumulator is undefined.

The returned value is a Promise, but what it resolves to depends on whether or not you include the fourth (optional)parameter. If you don’t include it, the resolved value is always undefined. In this case, its used for control flowpurposes (resuming the rest of your program), and the function in the third parameter is used to capture a result. Ifyou do include the fourth parameter, then the resolved value is the value of the accumulator. This is a familiarpattern for people that use functional programming.

Opening modals

Modals can be created by calling the views.open method. The method requires you to pass a valid view payload in addition to a trigger_id, which can be obtained when a user invokes your app using a slash command, clicking a button, or using another interactive action.

Dynamically updating a modal

After the modal is opened, you can update it dynamically by calling views.update with the view ID returned in the views.open result.

Logging

The WebClient will log interesting information to the console by default. You can use the logLevel to decide howmuch information, or how interesting the information needs to be, in order for it to be output. Mac lip pencil in soar. There are a few possiblelog levels, which you can find in the LogLevel export. By default, the value is set to LogLevel.INFO. While you’rein development, its sometimes helpful to set this to the most verbose: LogLevel.DEBUG.

All the log levels, in order of most to least information are: DEBUG, INFO, WARN, and ERROR.

Sending log output somewhere besides the console

You can also choose to have logs sent to a custom logger using the logger option. A custom logger needs to implementspecific methods (known as the Logger interface):

MethodParametersReturn typesetLevel()level: LogLevelvoidsetName()name: stringvoiddebug()..msgs: any()voidinfo()..msgs: any()voidwarn()..msgs: any()voiderror()..msgs: any()void

A very simple custom logger might ignore the name and level, and write all messages to a file.

Automatic retries

In production systems, you want your app to be resilient to short hiccups and temporary outages. Solving for thisproblem usually involves building a queuing system that handles retrying failed tasks. The WebClient comes with thisqueuing system out of the box, and its on by default! The client will retry a failed API method call up to 10 times,spaced out over about 30 minutes. If the request doesn’t succeed in that time, then the returned Promise will reject.You can observe each of the retries in your logs by setting the log level to DEBUG. Try running thefollowing code with your network disconnected, and then re-connect after you see a couple of log messages:

Shortly after re-connecting your network, you should see the Done! message. Did you notice the program doesn’t use avalid token? The client is doing something clever and helpful here. It knows the difference between an error such as notbeing able to reach api.slack.com and an error in the response from Slack about an invalid token. The former issomething that can be resolved with a retry, so it was retried. The invalid token error means that the call isn’t goingto succeed until your app does something differently, so it stops attempting retries.

You might not think 10 reties in 30 minutes is a good policy for your app. No problem, you can set the retryConfig toone that works better for you. The retryPolicies export contains a few well known options, and you can always writeyour own.

Here are some other values that you might want to use for retryConfig:

retryConfigDescriptionretryPolicies.tenRetriesInAboutThirtyMinutes(default)retryPolicies.fiveRetriesInFiveMinutesFive attempts in five minutesretryPolicies.rapidRetryPolicyUsed to keep tests running fast( retries: 0 )No retries (other options)

Note: If an API call results in a rate limit being exceeded, you might still notice the client automaticallyretrying the API call. If you’d like to opt out of that behavior, set the rejectRateLimitedCalls option to true.

Upload a file

A couple methods, files.upload and users.setPhoto, allow you to upload a file over the API. In Node, there are a fewways you might be dealing with files, or more generally, binary data. When you have the whole file in memory (like whenyou’ve just generated or processed an image), then in Node you’d have a Buffer that contains that binary data. Or,when you are reading the file from disk or a network (like when you have a path to file name), then you’d typically havea ReadableStream. The client can handle both of these binary data types for you, and it looks like any other API call.

The following example shows how you can use files.upload to upload afile that is read from disk (as a ReadableStream).

In the example above, you could also use a Buffer object as the value for the file property of the options object.

Proxy requests with a custom agent

The client allows you to customize the HTTPAgent used to create the connection to Slack.Using this option is the best way to make all requests from your app through a proxy, which is a common requirement inmany corporate settings.

In order to create an Agent from some proxy information (such as a host, port, username, and password), you can useone of many npm packages. We recommend https-proxy-agent. Startby installing this package and saving it to your package.json.

Import the HttpsProxyAgent class, and create an instance that can be used as the agent option of the WebClient.

Rate limits

When your app calls API methods too frequently, Slack will politely ask (by returning an error) the app to slow down,and also let your app know how many seconds later it should try again. This is called rate limiting and theWebClient handles it for your app with grace. The client will understand these rate limiting errors, wait theappropriate amount of time, and then retry the request without any changes in your code. The Promise returned onlyresolves when Slack has given your app a real response.

It’s a good idea to know when you’re bumping up against these limits, so thatyou might be able to change the behavior of your app to hit them less often. Your users would surely appreciate gettingthings done without the delay. Each time a rate limit related error occurs, the WebClient instance emits an event:WebClientEvent.RATE_LIMITED. We recommend that you use the event to inform users when something might take longer thanexpected, or just log it for later.

Download Slack

You might not want to the WebClient to handle rate limits in this way. Perhaps the operation was time sensitive, andit won’t be useful by the time Slack is ready for another request. Or, you have a more sophisticated approach. In thesecases, you can set the rejectRateLimitedCalls option on the client to true. Once you set this option, method callscan fail with rate limiting related errors. These errors have a code property set to ErrorCode.RateLimitedError. Seeerror handling for more details.

Request concurrency

Each of the API method calls the client starts are happening concurrently, or at the same time. If your app triesto perform a lot of method calls, let’s say 100 of them, at the same time, each one of them would be competing for thesame network resources (such as bandwidth). By competing, they might negatively affect the performance of all the rest,and therefore negatively affect the performance of your app. This is one of the reasons why the WebClient limits theconcurrency of requests by default to ten, which means it keeps track of how many requests are waiting, and onlystarts an eleventh request when one of them completes. The exact number of requests the client allows at the same timecan be set using the maxRequestConcurrency option.

The lower you set the maxRequestConcurrency, the less parallelism you’ll have in your app. Imagine setting theconcurrency to 1. Each of the method calls would have to wait for the previous method call to complete before it caneven be started. This could slow down your app significantly. So its best not to set this number too low.

Another reason, besides competing for resources, that you might limit the request concurrency is to minimize theamount of state in your app. Each request that hasn’t completed is in some ways a piece of state that hasn’t yet beenstored anywhere except the memory of your program. In the scenario where you had 100 method calls waiting, and yourprogram unexpectedly crashes, you’ve lost information about 100 different things going on in the app. But by limitingthe concurrency to a smaller number, you can minimize this risk. So its best not to set this number too high.

Custom TLS configuration

Each connection to Slack starts with a handshake that allows your app to trust that it is actually Slack you areconnecting to. The system for establishing this trust is called TLS. In order for TLS to work, the host running your appkeeps a list of trusted certificate authorities, that it can use to verify a signature Slack produces. You don’tusually see this list, its usually a part of the operating system you’re running on. In very special cases, like certaintesting techniques, you might want to send a request to another party that doesn’t have a valid TLS signature that yourcertificate authority would verify. In these cases, you can provide alternative TLS settings, in order to change how theoperating system might determine whether the signature is valid. You can use the tls option to describe the settingsyou want (these settings are the most common and useful from the standard NodeAPI).

tls propertyDescriptioncaOptionally override the trusted CA certificates. Any string or Buffer can contain multiple PEM CAs concatenated together.keyPrivate keys in PEM format. PEM allows the option of private keys being encrypted. Encrypted keys will be decrypted with passphrase.certCert chains in PEM format. One cert chain should be provided per private key.pfxPFX or PKCS12 encoded private key and certificate chain. pfx is an alternative to providing key and cert individually. PFX is usually encrypted, if it is, passphrase will be used to decrypt it.passphraseShared passphrase used for a single private key and/or a PFX.

Slack Webinar

Custom API URL

The URLs for method calls to Slack’s Web API always begin with https://slack.com/api/. In very special cases, such ascertain testing techniques, you might want to send these requests to a different URL. The slackApiUrl option allowsyou to replace this prefix with another.

Exchange an OAuth grant for a token

There’s one method in the Slack Web API that doesn’t requires a token, because its the method that gets a token! Thismethod is called oauth.v2.access. It’s used as part of the OAuth2.0 process that users initiate when installing your app into a workspace. In thelast step of this process, your app has received an authorization grant called code which it needs to exchange foran access token (token). You can use an instance of the WebClient that has no token to easily complete thisexchange.

Note: If you’re looking for a more complete solution that handles more of the OAuth process for your app, take alook at the @aoberoi/passport-slack Passport Strategy.

The Slack platform offers several APIs to build apps. Each Slack API delivers part of the capabilities from theplatform, so that you can pick just those that fit for your needs. This SDK offers a corresponding package for each ofSlack’s APIs. They are small and powerful when used independently, and work seamlessly when used together, too.

Just starting out? The Getting Started tutorial willwalk you through building your first Slack app using Node.js.

Slack APIWhat its forNPM PackageWeb APISend data to or query data from Slack using any of over 130 methods.@slack/web-apiEvents APIListen for incoming messages and many other events happening in Slack, using a URL.@slack/events-apiInteractive MessagesRespond to button clicks, dialogs, and other interactions with messages.@slack/interactive-messagesOAuthSetup the authentication flow using V2 OAuth for Slack apps as well as V1 OAuth for classic Slack apps.@slack/oauthRTM APIListen for incoming messages and a limited set of events happening in Slack, using websockets.@slack/rtm-apiIncoming WebhooksSend notifications to a single channel which the user picks on installation.@slack/webhook

Not sure about which APIs are right for your app? Read our blogpost that explains the options.If you’re still not sure, reach out for help and our community can guide you.

If you’re looking for an all-in-one solution that hides the underlying Slack APIs, but simplifies building a bot-styleapp inside Slack, try the Hubot Slack adapter. Hubot is a popular frameworkfor internal apps that automate workflows, perform ChatOps, or just generate silly memes.

Installation

Question symbol copy. Use your favorite package manager to install any of the packages and save to your package.json:

Requirements

This package supports Node v8 LTS and higher. It’s highly recommended to use the latest LTS version ofnode, and the documentation is written using syntax and featuresfrom that version.

Slack Web App

Getting Help

If you get stuck, we’re here to help. The following are the best ways to get assistance working through your issue:

Slack Webex

Issue Tracker for questions, featurerequests, bug reports and general discussion related to this package.

Email us in Slack developer support: [email protected]

Bot Developers Hangout: a Slack community for developersbuilding all types of bots. You can find the maintainers and users of this package in #sdk-node-slack-sdk.

[shirlleycoyle]

My Life as a Meme: ‘I Can’t Believe You’ve Done This’ Revisited

In November 2007, an entirely contextless video of me being punched in the face went viral. You might have seen it. It still does the rounds every couple of months, often when something notably bad happens that warrants a response of disbelief. In these strange times, it’s managed to remain endlessly prescient.

For the uninitiated, the video in question is an 11-second clip in which, aged 16, I appear wearing a dressing gown cord around my head, a chain necklace, some children’s sunglasses and a black T-shirt. I sit down and address the camera, ostensibly about to tell the viewer what I was thinking. I am immediately interrupted by my friend Tim, who appears stage left and lamps me. Rather than react in pain or anger, I err more towards disappointment and dismay, bewildered that something like this could happen. “Ah fuck. I can’t believe you’ve done this,” I said. End scene.

It’s been nearly 14 years since I uploaded the original video and to this day it still prompts questions. Who was the guy who got punched? Why did he get punched? Who punched him? What was he thinking? Why did he react that way? Why did he leave YouTube?

In recent years I’ve come to appreciate and even enjoy its bizarre status as an enduring piece of internet history, but my relationship with the clip in the decade that followed its inexorable rise hasn’t always been easy. To understand why, it’s useful to remember that the internet in 2007 was, for better or worse, a very different place.

Having spent the best part of my school years filming stupid skits with mates instead of studying, there was something semi-appealing about the prospect of being able to put videos online to share with friends. It began in mid-2003, when myself and a group of friends would have been in our early teens. Inspired by the likes of Jackass and Bam Margera’s CKY movies, our impressionable young selves set about ignoring all relevant safety warnings, hurling ourselves out of trees, riding scooters into curbs, and racing tyres down hills on skateboards.

At the age of 14 or so, I had envisaged cutting the footage into a chaotic feature-length video of “stunts.” I’d probably have soundtracked it with music from the Tony Hawk games, alongside countless other homemade skate videos people made circa 2003 that probably featured a mix of Ace of Spades or Guerilla Radio. I still have a box full of VHS-C tapes kicking around somewhere, which can only be viewed on one of those absolutely insane VHS adapters. Having not watched any of it in well over a decade, I can safely say that the content contained within those tapes is unequivocally shit.

All of a sudden you're everywhere and it's out of your control. You either try to fight it and get destroyed, or embrace it and try to cash in.

Looking back, the whole endeavour was entirely aimless, but aside from coming away with mild head injuries from time to time it was an innocuous way to spend my childhood. At the very least it also means I have a bizarre, tangible record of my youth that I’ll be able to laugh at one day when I’m old and wizened.

By summer 2004, we had started filming on Mini-DV, which opened up a whole new world of editing possibilities. Plugging a video camera into a computer and capturing footage directly to editing software is pretty much a given for today’s generation of content creators, but back in the early 2000s, this was revolutionary.

We’d eventually gravitate away from ‘stunts’ towards more structured skits and sketches. Nothing was ever scripted per se, but we’d usually start out with a rough idea of something and see how it played out.

There was an ambitiously misguided 'silent horror' short, soundtracked by Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells, in which someone chopped off ‘my cock’ (a banana) with a garden shear. We considered this to be the absolute pinnacle of comedy.

There was an ill-advised 'Ballers' skit in which we ventured out in sports gear to make a mock training video taking the piss out of a guy at school who fancied himself as a bit of a gangster; this painfully middle-class white kid who listened to rap metal and liked basketball. He obviously never saw it and there's no question that we looked like idiots filming it at the local park. It’s probably quite offensive in hindsight.

The author at the Bristol Climate Change Protests in September 2019. Image: Shanya Buultjens

There was a James Bond 'spoof' that involved misquoting portions of dialogue from that scene in GoldenEye where Q gives Bond an exploding pen. It was funny to about three people. One of them was my mum.

One time a mate of mine fell out of a tree when he tried to swing from a branch. He landed on his back and ended up coughing up blood. He didn’t go to the hospital even though he probably should have. He’s now a doctor and a father.

Mercifully, none of this stuff ever made it online, but I did sell a couple of DVDs to people at school who rightly/probably/hopefully never watched them. In an ideal world, I'd own the only copies. I'm also fully aware that writing about this now only makes it more likely that one of the four people that still have a copy will dig theirs out. Please do not do that.

In 2005 and 2006, YouTube was very much in its infancy. This was the time when clips were limited to about 100mb and you could only upload about 30 seconds worth of footage at a time, which basically made it perfect for bursts of frenetic, inane content. As the platform grew, it became a dumping ground for skits and footage that we’d accumulated over the preceding years. Much of it went completely unnoticed until late 2007, at which point things started to get a bit weird.

The truth is that, nearly a decade and a half later, I’m still processing it.

The clip that people have come to know started out as an aimless skit filmed in Summer 2006. We hadn’t planned anything, least of all me being punched. In the footage building up to the event, I pushed Tim off the chair, he fell and hit his head on a filing cabinet off-camera. Rather than react to Tim, I sat down and proceeded to ad lib something that I’d venture to guess would have been considerably less funny than the act of violence that followed. Unprompted, Tim upsided me and I reacted with an inexplicable, completely incredulous response, which has followed me online ever since.

The footage sat on a tape until July 2007 when I decided to upload a brief segment under an ambiguous title. Fast forward to November and the video had somehow blown up, had its comments section relentlessly spammed, been ripped countless times and had offensive Wiki pages written about it. I also received a few direct messages which could at best have been described as ‘worrying’ and at worst ‘threatening,’ which was nice.

To this day, I’m none the wiser as to how it blew up in the way it did. I originally uploaded the video under the title ‘ ___________’ but the video somehow found its way onto 4chan where it spread like wildfire. The earliest mirrored link I could find was from January 2008, by which time it had been re-uploaded by multiple accounts, the most prominent of which had already clocked up almost double the number of views compared to my original upload.

At the time, going viral wasn't really comparable to any other experience and it certainly wasn't something I could discuss in solidarity with my friends. All of a sudden you're everywhere and it's out of your control. You either try to fight it and get destroyed, or embrace it and try to cash in. After yanking down several other videos on my YouTube channel, I opted for the latter.

When the video blew up, I got a call from a friend who informed me that the video had made the front page of Break.com. I peripherally knew what that meant: they offered a buyout scheme for videos that made the front page, which meant that I could make some money from it.

As it transpired, this wasn’t such a great idea. After signing a release form with some pretty appalling terms, over the following months I had several unnerving interactions with researchers for various TV shows looking to license the clip. Each offered far more favourable terms than those of Break. One of them harassed a bunch of my mates on Facebook. I think he even offered to pay one of them for my contact details.

By that point, it was all too apparent that I had completely fucked it. Break had the rights and I couldn't do anything with it even if I wanted to. At just 18 years old, I had sold out. In the short term, I used the money to buy a TV, which was great, but I soon started to get the creeping feeling that this was a decision that would come to haunt me. At that point, it was easier to disassociate myself from the clip, abandon YouTube, and move on with my life.

And yet, for the best part of 14 years the questions have kept coming: no, it wasn’t staged or scripted, it wasn’t a set-up, I didn’t know it was coming and, yes, it hurt. It was also very funny, which is presumably why I felt the need to upload it in isolation in the first place. Incidentally, Tim and I are still friends and contrary to some of the absolutely insane comments people leave on YouTube I can confirm that neither of us are in prison, the punch wasn’t a reaction to some sort of disagreement and he’s a lovely bloke.

To be clear, the lack of context wasn’t a deliberate choice to add intrigue either. I’d never even considered the possibility that anyone outside my circle of friends would see it. To me it was just another daft clip that a few mates would find funny.

Around the time I’d started to make peace with the issues around ownership, in 2018 it came to my attention that Break had shut down and its owner Defy Media had gone bust. The site was subsequently purchased by Yeah1 Network, but to this day I have no clarity whatsoever on my legal rights to the video. Any attempts to receive guidance have either turned up dead ends, or led to suggestions that I speak to IP lawyers, whom I have neither the means nor the time to deal with. Incidentally, if anyone has any insights in that area, I’d love to hear them.

Having said this, there’s something quite empowering in taking something embarrassing and admitting to it before someone else can point it out to you—a bit like taking ownership of an amusing surname. I’ll leave it to you to figure out what gags can be made from the name ‘Weedon,’ but I learned quite early on that if you make the jokes yourself and beat others to it, no one can fucking touch you. It’s much easier nowadays to hold my hands up and admit that I shouldn’t have sold the rights, make a joke of it and move on. At the very least, it makes for a good anecdote at parties.

As I suspect is probably the case for old content creators, if you can even call us that, the real story about I Can’t Believe You’ve Done This isn’t in how it’s aged and endured, or even how it’s impacted my life. For me, it’s tied up in issues of rights, ownership, and monetisation. As mercenary as it might be, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t regret missing out on a slice of the pie when it came to YouTubers being able to monetise their content sooner. On the one hand, that's probably a very cynical view for something that was created by a bunch of teenagers who were fooling around making videos for fun in the noughties, but on the other, that's just the world we live in now.

Perhaps the strangest thing about my experience with it nowadays is the way people engage with it on a day-to-day basis. The comments vary from young people discovering its origins for the first time, surprised to discover that it is in fact a 14 year old video and not a recent creation filmed for Vine or TikTok. At the other end of the spectrum are those who are incredulous that someone with a video that has 9.2 million views and an account that’s amassed over 15,000 followers without really trying would step away from the platform and not want to make content.

The truth is that, nearly a decade and a half later, I’m still processing it. I love seeing how it’s been re-interpreted in modern mediums and that positive association has made it easier to accept. Charles Cornell turned it into a sad song. It got sampled in a KIll The Noise track. I had a nice interaction with The Sidemen about it. Will Smith even featured it in an insane Instagram post during the pandemic. I DM’d him to say thanks and he obviously didn’t reply.

To that end, a small group of us have recently started work on a film project exploring the nature of the meme, how it grew, its impact on my life and my relationship with the internet at large. In doing so, the hope is that, while answering some of the burning questions that other people still seem to have, I’ll ultimately be able to make peace with the whole thing.

@Twotafkap

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