I miss when ads were a single click and then they’re gone. Now every ad has a minimum of three phases where you watch a video, exit the still frame of fake gameplay, and then exit the app download. That doesn’t even touch on the ones that forcibly take you to another app after opening a tab in safari without you ever touching the screen.
I hate advertising. I hate that you can’t do anything without companies jumping down your throat with mostly bullshit ads. I hate that billboards exist. I hate that every company unanimously decided to make their ads longer and longer. I hate that ad blockers try to charge you money and there are in app purchases to remove ads. I hate that my attention has become commodified. I hate that there’s nothing I can do about it.
big fan of when a character is dead and the narrative frames them in a very angelic, soft, gentle manner but then it turns out not only are they still alive (plot twist) but theyre alive in the most gruesome and horrific way. your loving kind mentor who motivates you to fight in their memory came back wrong and theres blood and dirt under their fingernails from clawing they way out of the grave.
big fan of when a character is dead and the narrative frames them in a very angelic, soft, gentle manner but then it turns out not only are they still alive (plot twist) but theyre alive in the most gruesome and horrific way. your loving kind mentor who motivates you to fight in their memory came back wrong and theres blood and dirt under their fingernails from clawing they way out of the grave.
been stewing on an analytical approach to fiction which I call "is this book afraid of me?" and in order to answer this question you determine how hard the book is trying to make sure you don't come after the writer on twitter
Please keep making art. Please make it for yourself. Please don’t let everything become even more of the same flat general appeal nonsense that doesn’t seem to have anything to say
Ethan watched the Coralbug zip over the roofs, disappearing behind the horizon. He took a shaky breath, for a second as he tried to adjust to the Goose's absence yet again.
It's better this way, Nemesis had said, to gain the trust of the local hero through willingly handing over the family heirloom after each akuma attack.
Still, it made whatever made up his heart ache at his kwami's absences. As much as he was capable of emotions.
Running a hand through his hair, Ethan walked inside his room, closing the balcony doors.
He shook out off his jacket, throwing it across a chair. And popped out his glass eye and placed it inside its storage, where it would be safe and undamaged.
Nothing was amiss.
Except for the amount of feathers that fluttered around his room with the wind.
Slowly, he turned towards his bed's direction.
There on his blankets sat a boy around his age, perhaps a bit younger, with a purple and green suit covering him head to toe. Peacock feathers were all over him, making up his capelet, vest and mask. A brooch glinted below his throat.
He plucked his equally feathered fan one by one, murmuring, "He loves me, he loves me not—"
"The Peacock." Ethan blurted out.
"Hi." Breathless, the boy flashed him a dazzling smile.
Ethan kept quiet, stumbling backwards into his desk. News segments about akumas, and villains and feathers manifesting into creatures, tools sped like a movie film across the forefront of his mind.
The beam contort into a sinister grin, "Oh, don't do that. Don't act afraid for just the sake of little ol' me, gooseling."
Ethan discreetly searched for the emergency button his mother– his creator– placed under his desk. "Did the Lord send you?"
The Peacock snapped his fan shut. "Kronos's not the boss of me."
"Isn't he?" Ethan snickered. His fingers found the button—
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." He lifted a delicate hand, fingers poised to snap.
As if burnt, Ethan yanked his hands away from the desk.
"Thanks." Peacock let his hand drop, taking a breath of relief and jumped up. "You know what you are."
"Yes." Ethan did his best to not glance at the glass eyeball.
"Clever boy," He cooed, placing his hands on the desk to box Ethan in.
With this close, Ethan could count the freckles on his face. A strange heat crept up to his own, his palms getting warm and sweaty.
"You are not one of mine, though." The Peacock– and hm, it would be nice to learn what the villain called himself soon– puffed, backing off.
"I'd rather not." Ethan dried. "Why are you here?"
He tilted his head, "You know, you took quite a hit last fight. Wouldn't want something to happen to Paris's favourite hero, would we?"
"Hardly." He wouldn't call himself that, he wouldn't even call himself the fifth favourite hero. He was just a tool: A gun to be wielded like his weapon, a double agent for his creator. He was no hero.
The Peacock skipped towards the balcony, latching open the doors before he whirled round to send him a mischievous look, "You are my favourite."
It would have been better if he was dropkicked in the chest. Ethan's breath got punched out of him, blood or its substitute rushing to his cheeks.
"Eat up, hero." With a flourish, the Peacock took a paperbag out off his cape, and bowed as he threw it towards Ethan. "Until we see again."
Thus, he jumped off the railings, the wind scattering a clutter of feathers while he vanished.
Gingerly, Ethan opened the bag to check out its contents: A chocolate muffin with a stupid smiley face fondant greeted him, alongside a single red rose.
######
Ethan's a sentibeing and a spy in Percy’s Ladybug team for Nemesis. Al's a Mayura/Argos and another sentibeing while Hecate is Natalie. They both work for Kronos who is of course Hawkmoth.
discoholicmusic
blakekathryn
stormborns
gracieabrams
ellievsbear
