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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 51

First

Alya was about ten seconds away from going insane.

She had gone through the files of every single person in the right height range in all of Paris. She’d found six of them. That was fine and to be expected.

What WASN’T fine was that none of them had any connections to the area that Hawkmoth’s akumas came from. And Hawkmoth HAD to have connections of some kind, because throwing them off wouldn’t be worth the amount of time it would take to get there every time he needed to create an akuma -- pretty much everyone would have gotten over what had made them sad or angry by the time he got there, not to mention the time it would take to send the akuma over.

So, yeah, he had to have some sort of connection. But where?

She started with houses and jobs and found nothing. Then she moved onto spouses, onto friends, onto their kids… nothing.

Okay, fine, acquaintances…

Nope. Not even acquaintances.

Before long she was sitting at her desk, a digital conspiracy board for each of them. Unfortunately, the only thing the conspiracy boards were doing was proving why each of the people couldn’t be Hawkmoth. Two of them were the wrong skin color. The other four had solid alibis for every time Hawkmoth appeared.

She rested her head in her hands, trying to think.

Alright, fine, maybe she missed one of the files. She started flipping through the papers again, searching for the ones within the right height range.

Aha! She’d missed one!

She ran back to her computer eagerly. She had the answer! This was finally it!

… they were the wrong gender. At least there was a little variety.

She threw the file down with the others and banged her head against her desk so hard she heard some of her knick knacks rattle. She was missing something. She knew it. The answer was right in front of her, she just couldn’t see it.

And then an idea came to her. A whisper in the back of her head that made her skin crawl.

Master Fu said Adrien knows Hawkmoth, if she followed him for long enough maybe she’ll be able to figure out who it is…

She scowled and looked down at the fox miraculous hanging from her neck. She clutched the pendant in her fingers and heavily considered throwing the damn thing out the window.

She was NOT going to stalk Adrien again. It hadn’t been right the first time, it would be just as bad the second time. Worse, even, because at the house he could at least have a reasonable expectation that people could barge into his room at any moment and therefore had a level of caution, but at his own home he was supposed to feel safe. Invading his privacy like THAT... no amount of turning away when he changed could make that okay.

As if he knew what she was thinking about and wanted to make her feel even guiltier for letting the thought cross her mind, her phone started blaring the Nyan Cat song.

She didn’t have the energy to pick her head up again. Instead, she reached her hand around the table blindly until she felt the familiar ridges of her phone case. She swiped her finger along the phone screen until it vibrated a little and brought the phone to her ear. “Yeah?”

“Hi hi!” Adrien’s voice filtered through her phone, far too cheery for how she was feeling.

She shook her head just slightly. “I already said I would do it, you don’t have to keep calling to make sure I’m going to help you.”

“Is it illegal to check up on my friends?”

Her heart warmed a little at that and she had to fight to keep the scowl on her face. “Don’t be such a ray of sunshine. I’m frustrated over here.”

“Oh, don’t be frustrated! I’ll cheer you up! Um…”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, it's not enough for Hawkmoth to get involved, you don’t need to bother.”

“What? No. I just don’t want you to be upset because I care about you!”

Alya knew it was probably a calculated response to try and cheer her up. Didn’t mean that it wasn’t working. She banged her free hand on the desk a few times to try and help herself keep her composure, but she ended up smiling anyway.

“Asshole,” she muttered, pushing herself up in her chair.

“Ten euros,” he chirped.

Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “Ten euros? Why?”

He giggled. “Oops, sorry, habit. Wrong person.”

“How is THAT a habit --?”

“We implemented a swear jar for Marinette. It’s not going very well.”

She grinned. “I can imagine.”

There was a beat where he hesitated and then he sighed. “Do you want to talk about what got you frustrated earlier or…?”

“Just struggling a little with the Hawkmoth stuff. He’s supposed to be within a certain height range but all of the people I found didn’t match up.”

He hesitated, just slightly, before he smiled and said: “Don’t worry about that. We’re going to the Gala so we can get more information anyways, you can measure people there. Maybe the papers you have are wrong or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “You just want me to work on the Master Fu stuff instead.”

“... was it that obvious?”

“I can hear you lying through the phone.”

… how could she hear him pouting through the phone, too? Was that possible?

“I have faith that we can all figure it out eventually, but for the Fu stuff… the public will believe us about Hawkmoth, the police won’t believe us about Fu without proof.”

“Fine. I’ll go spy on Master Fu for you.”

He laughed a little. “Thanks, Alya. I owe you one.”

“Don’t need to. Tell me what it's for and if the reason is good enough you won’t owe me.”

There was a beat as he thought about it and then he sighed. “Fine. I don’t like the idea of him getting the miraculi back after everything’s done, I don’t think he’d use it wisely. Look at what happened with Hawkmoth -- heck, look at what happened to US. I need blackmail, hopefully that will be enough to get him to leave us and the miraculi alone.”

She considered it for a few moments before she broke into a grin.

“Congrats, Adrikins, looks like you don’t owe me.”

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write @trippingovermyfeet @melicmusicmagic @meimei3841 @roseliali-art @ultimatetornshipper @blissful-passing @not-a-pushover @that-one-scared-gay @iidiotkid

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cuntylittlesalmon · 3 years

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20 first lines tag

rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 stories just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag others!

tagged by my bestie @isherwoodj

i tag: @wickerring @woodlights @aphaimaniis @perditism @analogued and anyone else who wants to !!

im gonna do roughly just the first paragraph because i feel like some of these need it......also, everything is under a readmore for ease

novels:

fractured dawn (both the prologue and chapter one)

The moment Charles Beaumont laid eyes on his sister for the first time, he was certain they were related.

When Victoriette takes the last steps into the ballroom from one of the two staircases, her gown trailing three steps behind her, she feels like she’s suffocating.

simply put, i don’t care for these lines at all. i think they’re messy and bad, but they’re also from the first drafts and will be deleted (or fixed). that being said, i do like the feeling they give me even if they don’t fit with the rest of the novel / my vision for it

the matchbox boys

It was the beginning of summer when I met you on the pier. You were staring down the warm blue of the ocean as if standing on the rotting wood meant something greater, as if you could hear the water whisper the secrets of the universe if you stood still enough.

ah, the line i have written about 10 times before giving up and working on voice in different chapters. since this project is still in its infancy, this is very likely going to change, but i dunno. i like it. (this was the most recent attempt)

vessel

There’s a hole in Llyn.

It’s a rather large hole, and a rather deep hole. The people of Llyn say they can hear voices coming from it but it’s been barricaded up since it appeared three years ago.

I’m pretty sure it’s the reason my aunt died.

im gonna go out on a limb and say this is my favorite opener! its extremely punchy, very intriguing....it simply appeals to me more than all of the other ones i’ve ever written lmao

project icarus

I find myself scanning the seats of the lecture hall at 7:56 am on September 1st. Four minutes before class starts, and almost every single seat is taken. I really should’ve learned from my past two semesters—the early bird gets to choose their worm.

so, i’m pretty sure i wrote this line at like 2 in the morning many many moons ago, and it shows iogtljefkdl it’s not that i don’t like it, i just don’t think it works well as an opener......and you can definitely tell i had 0 plans in place when i wrote it (i mean, i still dont but we’re not gonna talk about that)

&& things that aren’t novels:

languid summer: a fractured dawn companion short

The air outside is thick with the languid heat of the summer. Maddox took refuge in the Von Braun lake house, but the molasses-like humidity combined with Misty’s desire to save money doesn’t make for a sufficient shelter from it. The fan in Ellis’ bedroom is working overtime, pushing around the same stagnant air, while Maddox lies on the floor in her sports bra and Ellis is perched in front of the floor mirror attempting to braid his hair.

this is such a long “first line” but cutting it anywhere felt wrong, so here we are. regardless, i really enjoy this opener. it really gives you a feeling of the of what its like to be in the room with maddox and ellis

you can actually read the full piece here !

origins, part 1: a fractured dawn companion short

Maddox knew Cassie had been bitten when she stepped into their shared first period class reeking of wolf.

the beginnings of a collection of shorts that i haven’t worked on much...but i actually quite like this line. origins is intended to be a set of four short stories surrounding the POV characters of fractured dawn when they’re all teenagers (hence “origins”) but i haven’t gotten past maddox’s lmao.

i guess all in all, i tend to write very succinct first lines? i like snappy beginnings apparently 😜

#tag game #wip: fractured dawn #wip: the matchbox boys #wip: vessel #wip: project icarus

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franeridart · 7 years

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Hey hey hey, so I've seen your lack of Bokutoo art (or haikyuu art in general) and at first I was going to comment on it, but then I saw your art theft post and I hope that won't have too much influence on your haikyuu art? Of corse I'm gonna let you post whatever you'd like to post, I just miss it a lot y'know :0

Well. Okay, I’ve talked about this a lot but I understand people don’t just read all my answers and it’s totally my fault for procrastinating on that faq page so let me just go through this again in an as clear way as possible?

I haven’t stopped drawing for hq! As a matter of fact in the last week alone I have posted one, two and three things for that fandom for a total of five portraits and a three panels comic

That said I understand with the rhythm I update this blog you might think “well, that isn’t much at all, is it?”, which, again, is my fault because - even though when compared to most art blogs’ update schedules eight drawing in one week is more than enough - I’m the one who set the rhythm here

The “problem” with hq is that all my favorite characters are currently absent from the manga and there’s no anime airing, while at the same time my other main fandom (bnha) has both an interesting arc going on in the manga AND an anime season airing right now - I hope you’ll understand if my interest at the moment is mostly focused there, that’s a continuous stream of inspiration I have coming my way

To add to that some parts of the Haikyuu!! fandom are being unrespectful of what I post (this includes reposting, treating my stuff as if it were templates for their own art instead of ship/character specific content, honestly unrespectful comments and tags under a lot of my main ships posts and so on) which, you’ll excuse me, but dampens the joy I get from posting art a lot

Moreover, the creative side of the hq fandom is being, at least for what concerns the zones I frequent, pretty damn quiet lately, so I can’t say I get much inspiration from there either

I haven’t stopped and I can’t see in my foreseeable future myself stopping posting stuff for haikyuu!!, and all things considered I don’t think I’m posting too little for it either? Art and inspiration aren’t things I want to force, if I started I would stop finding drawing enjoyable really damn fast and I can’t let that happen - please be understanding, I first and foremost draw for myself, I can’t help it if sometimes I get stuck on one fandom or another

Anon said: Have you seen the latest chapter of haikyuu? I like how they are showing more Daishou. It’s fun to see his reactions and thoughts about nationals! And I will love to see him in your art style.

Anon, my friend!!! I have drawn Daishou in the past! As a matter of fact the last one was just after he appeared again in chapter 251! I love that snake boy a lot, seeing him there made me really really happy haha

Anon said:SAEKO NEE-SAAAAANNNNNN

SHE WAS AMAZING WASN’T SHE OH MY G O D !!!

Anon said:Kirishima and/or Bakugou being good at singing. And then gay happens.

BOI ANON I have drawn these boys singing to each other a whole lot already (like here or here) at this point I would assume you guys were fed up with it hahaha (… can’t say I won’t ever have them sing to each other again, though)

Anon said:DADZAWA IS SO REAL! But I’m actually so amused because Izuku is basically Ron Swanson with his “I can do what I want” permit except Aizawa wrote and signed the permit

No no anon it’s even better because Aizawa wasn’t like “you can do what you want” he was like “you can do only what I tell you you can do and it just so happens that I’m deciding that you can do exactly what you want to do but it’s still my decison” it was amazing lmao I love Aizawa so much poor man

Anon said:friendo, whats your opinion on the traitor kaminari theory? it breaks my heart but it has a good backbone to it?? like in the new chapter, theres a character that looks like kaminari’s dad/uncle/older family member and im worried for my electric baby

I still don’t think Kaminari is the traitor - as a matter of fact, I still don’t think the traitor is any of the kids. If that’s how it’ll turn out to be I’ll be sad about it, for sure, but right now I really, really don’t believe it. It’s true that the Kaminari-is-the-traitor theory is very cleverly worded and super convincing, but a lot of the things in it are really stretched out as far as I’m concerned

ie, taking the weird faces Horikoshi makes him make in the sketches and using them as proof that he’s got a double face? Too far out for me; his original design being that of a villain? Deku’s original design was villain-ish too, no one is calling him a traitor; taking the expression he made when Aizawa told him he could go to the camp and making it sound like he didn’t want to go? Might be believable as long as you don’t take into account the fact that he had just had a conversation with Midoriya in which he told him it was impossible Aizawa would let them go and that Midoriya was just being too optimistic, the “what the actual fuck is this” expression makes a lot more sense in that context; the fact that he makes clever quotes and uses a complex vocabulary used to say that he’s pretending to be stupid is unfair towards the very real possibility of him just not liking studying or thinking things through analytically but otherwise enjoying reading and being fairly intelligent in his own way?? - in the theory it’s also mentioned that it’s weird how during USJ he was worried about an electricity villain overcharging him as if that’s not perfectly normal, having an electricity quirk obviously doesn’t stop him from suffering overcharges, and later during the end of term exam they say it’s “weird” he refused to go all out with his qurik from the start, again, as if that weren’t a perfectly sensible decision in that context (you have to keep in mind that Kaminari is also studying to become an hero, him going “wait a second, maybe keeping on going stupid and putting myself out of commission every time I fight isn’t the right choice” is perfectly in line with him growing up and learning)

Now I don’t have the post open in front of me and it’s been a while since I’ve read it, but most of the theory as far as I get it is based on the idea that Kaminari can’t be lazy and an airhead and might talk without thinking now and again (the Stain comment), but at the same time be clever in his own ways, which just isn’t convincing for me. It’s taking this character’s three dimensionality and making it a plot-hole, why would you want to do that

(on a similar note, the Kirishima-is-the-traitor theory doesn’t convince me for the same kind of reason, it’s all based on the idea that he can’t just genuinely like Bakugou for who he is without having second reasons for it, which is just unfair and cuts too much off the personality of a really good, well written character)

As far as the new villain guy goes, I understand why most of the fandom might be weary and linking him to Kaminari, but we don’t know his color scheme nor his quirk and the pattern on his hair isn’t even a lightning bolt - Horikoshi has had to make up unique designs for a whole damn lot of characters, the fact that one random guy might have something similar to Kaminari isn’t really enough to make him his dad (again, it might turn out to be true, but in my opinion it’s still too early to make theories about it). Also, this guy is from the Eight Precepts. Weren’t you all trying to link Kaminari to the League of Villains? Isn’t the traitor supposedly tied with the League? How many people is this boy working for even

By the way, during the USJ attack the villains had informations they couldn’t have gotten from any of the kids aside from Midoriya (the “they told me All Might was getting weaker” comment) and tbh that’s enough for me to not believe any of the student is behind the informations leak, but all of this is just my opinion

Anon said:Your thoughts on mob psycho 100??

LOVE IT one of the best anime I’ve watched lately, without any doubts

Anon said: Being a bokuroo artist? More like drawing art but every time someone says brOTP, you get steadily more annoyed, lol - love your art, btw; you have a really cute and fluffy style

Yyyyyyyyeeeeeeaaaaahhhhhhhh… sadly you kind of grow used to it but it is incredibly annoying and one of the reasons why I’ve been drawing it less, t b h

Anon said:I love the concept of the bakubowl because unlike with other characters where everyone’s like “omf they’re so cute!!” the bakubowl is just “why is he like this. why do we ALL like him for this ffs”

WELP I don’t ship Bakugou with everyone so I can’t say I’m fond of the idea as a whole, and the ships I do ship Bakugou in are with the people that actually do like him for whatever reason (lmao), but I can understand why you’d find it a fresh take on the concept!

Anon said:Ily your art gives me life

AAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much!!!!! *O*

#fran answers #faq #just so i don't lose the first one #and the one about traitor kami too #it got kinda long with that one but i love kaminari and i need people to stop calling him a traitor #or more like #keep on headcanoning what you want but p l e a s e realize that there's no canon evidence for it at all???#somehow it seems like my nice kids can't just be nice without it being suspicious haha #rip #anonymous

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virtualamtgard2021 · 3 years

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Rowe (ch 1 pt 2) (Dragon)

Persona Name: Eliora Migurdia

Kingdom/Park: Golden Plains/Evermore Hollow

Award Level: Dragon 2

Entry Name: Rowe pt 2

Brief Description: This is the continuation of Rowe chapter 1

Write Up: Eliora Migurdia Crickett Stonebold D'avenir. [Dragon entry] Rowe, introduction and Chapter 1 part 1 category: Writing "Rowe" is the tale of Esset Len Wyrmborne, a young woman of 19 and rookie hotshot adventurer on an expidition with the goal of seeing the world. Growing up in a small theocratic region wherein magic is heavily suppressed and even criminalized, she quickly finds a passion for storytelling as a means to record her experience with the vast, open world. Early on, she's made aware that she can use magic, and struggles to merge with a world so accepting and even appreciative of magic use compared to her home in the south Gale-lands. The introduction and first chapter have taken me ~28 hours from first drafts to current form, spread over the course of the last month. It's been a process of writing paragraphs and expanding upon the ideas presented therein, to hammer out the world I wish to convey.

Part 2~

Instantaneously, the colossus in front of me became a whirlwind, a flurry of brown and green that whipped the wind into a spiraling column of raw energy. I felt the ground shake and a light gale, followed by a tremendous wave of air and varied debris that I shielded my face from. The wind blew me back into a tree a few feet behind me, knocking the breath out of me. I hit the ground with an embarrassing thud. As I pushed myself over onto my back to breathe, I winced from a sharp pain in my arm. Looking down, every inch of my skin and clothing was covered in dust and clusters of coarse, black dirt that crumbled sporadically at the slightest touch. No good, not a fan of that sensation one bit. I pulled myself to my feet, stiff from the impact, head throbbing. I felt a sensation of tiny hands crawling up my mud-soaked leg and couldn’t help but squirm in my clothes a little. The hands ran up my side and down my arm and I was greeted by a familiar little face. I was overcome with relief that he was okay.

Pulling myself to my feet, I looked towards the clearing. In the middle, among all the debris, was the answer to the question of what had just happened. The tree stood firmly planted in the ground, tall and stout, its rugged bark and glossy rosettes catching the sunlight, casting a wide circular shadow beneath it, almost shading the entire glade. I looked on in awe as it gently swayed in the breeze, that being who had just wrought such havoc now stood so majestic, so peaceful. I felt a pull, drawing me closer to the tree. It was strange to feel such a

compelling urge to approach a being that had just caused such destruction, but I started to feel my feet move against my will. As I strode carefully down the hill, around fallen logs, I became numb to the pain that was coursing throughout my body. It took so long to descend that when I stopped halfway down to catch my breath, I noticed the shadow of the tree beginning to encroach, inching its way up the hillside with the sun now passing behind it.

At the bottom of the hill, in what remained of the field of tall grass, I stood. In front of me, stretching into the sky, was the great tree. It was truly otherworldly to see it so close that I could reach out and touch it. The cracks in its bark were weathered and jagged, a mark of the ancient. It stood silent, looming above me. I backed up and stared a few moments longer before I turned to walk around it. I’d met the edge of its shadow and set foot outside of the shade to be met with a clear blue sky. Ahead of me, the treeline seemed to split off into two different directions. I walked away from the tree, deciding it best to not disturb it.

I took a moment to process what I had just experienced. Somehow or other, the tree seemed to have spun itself to drive its roots into the ground. Maybe that’s why it had cleared so much space? So that it wouldn’t have any competition for the clearing it wanted to occupy? I didn’t know its true intentions and it was probably rude to make assumptions, but that seemed the only reasonable conclusion. Somehow or other, when it spiraled down, it caused such an immense wind that it was able to send me flying. Truly majestic. I had a story to tell in the next tavern down the way.

Looking back one last time, I pushed onward towards the far edge of the clearing. This area was much less steep than the slope behind me, and I’d made it to the treeline within minutes. Where I could still see the two separate paths, I looked down each as far as I could. The one on the left was relatively dark and the right much brighter. Having spent most of my time in the shaded stretch of the wood, I found the path to the right more enticing. As I started to make my way down the path, I noticed that intermittently there were small pillars of smooth gray brick, marking the path. They were adorned with banners of tattered green and white, which rustled gently with age. In the afternoon it started to cool down, so I figured the night would be cold. It was probably best to find a spot and set up camp before too long. I started to shiver lightly when the breeze swelled, though I maintained my pace. My companion had crawled around and nestled within my sleeve, below my arm. That greedy bastard was nice and cozy while I did all the hard work. I chucked to myself at that thought.

Rounding a sharp bend in the path, on my right appeared a bench of fine metalwork. The legs were cylindrical with intricate carvings depicting merfolk swimming in a raging sea. This was helped aesthetically in no small part by the tarnished condition the bench was in. It had long since gone a deep sea shade of greenish-bluish-grey that would make any sailor feel at home. The armrests were finely curved at the front in a spiral that started wide and thin on the outer edge, but got thinner and rounder as it circled in on itself in a snakelike manner. The curve was connected to the back of the bench by a relatively simple bracket of metal, carved into a crosshatch pattern of square holes so small, you’d have trouble getting a needle through them. The

backboard of this bench was tall, shaped like a garden gate festooned with vines reminiscent of those enveloping the surrounding trees. I’m sure that when viewed from a distance it would be difficult to differentiate the metalwork from the nature surrounding it.

Next to the bench stood a lamp post. It was about one and a half times my height and much more simple in design than the bench adjacent, with a trapezoidal base converging to a sleek metal pole which looked just slim enough to grip in one hand. At the top, the metal curved around the glass of a lantern, rounded at its base and slender at the top. The top of the lantern was a metal lid, square in shape with ridges along its edges and a spike jutting out of the center. A small lectern, similar in color and presumably cast of the same metal as the other structures, sat about my waist height in front of the lantern. Looking closer, I could make out text inscribed in the open metal book placed atop the stand. It was certainly no language I knew, but the characters were the same. I read it aloud to try and gain some understanding.

“Hwey od lyew Fyr Grune saar,

In Inkhidts, Just, fyr Syrikh Daar,

Ignis Fyr, Ley od Stronne Ses,

Od es, Ignis, gratus est.”

I had no clue what this nonsense was supposed to be. Hwey? Ignis? What could I possibly do with this information? It was then I noticed a handle on the side of the lectern. I reached down and pulled at the cold, rough protrusion. With an ungodly scraping noise, it came loose and

from the lectern I drew a rectangular drawer-like compartment with an imprint in the shape of a hand. Not dissimilar to the pull I had felt towards the treant, I felt my hand gravitate towards the slot. I didn’t even try to stop it. I felt my hand sink into the cold metal. It fit my hand perfectly. The next thing I felt was a searing pain. I tried to pull my hand back, but I couldn’t. I pulled harder and harder, but my hand wouldn’t budge. The burning sensation grew more intense and as I looked down, I saw a black mark beginning to appear on the back of my hand. It was taking form like it was being written, tens of small curves converging to one point and another. It was a star of some kind. Counting the points, there were seven. As the lines met at the final point, I felt the grip on my hand diminish and pulled myself free.

Too shocked to move, I could only stare in disbelief at my hand. The marks began to glow a faint red. I felt warm to the core. It was soothing, especially when I was starting to get cold. My companion crawled down my arm and leapt clear over to the lectern. He turned back, looking at me as if to call my attention to it, and it immediately became clear as to why. The lines forming the letters were slowly shifting, as though the metal they were inscribed in was alive somehow. Given what had just happened, I somehow didn’t find the concept too bizarre. The text shifted for a few moments more before becoming clear. I read it aloud once again.

“From lands afar, a gift was sent.

To wanderers and scholars of the night.

A gift of fire, felt within,

Channeled by mere thought, a blessing and a curse.”

I was dumbfounded. A gift of fire? Scholars of the night? A curse?! The text, while decipherable, was no less confusing now than it had been. Connecting the pieces, the burning sensation I had felt in my hand, the words upon the lectern, the pattern now part of my skin, I had to assume this “gift of fire” was somehow mine now. I had no idea what to do with this knowledge. The small, green one scampered up the lamppost to the top, looking down at the latch and then to me. I reached up and flipped the latch open. As the creaking metal lid swung open, he crawled into the lamp, wherein a large candle remained unlit. I looked back to the lectern to see the lines had once again shifted. They now took the form of a picture. Upon the open page, they drew a hand with a finger extended.. To a candle. A small flame shot out of the fingertip, catching the wick alight. Beneath it, only one word was written.

Focus.

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