Miraculous Moments [Miraculous LadyBug Fanfic]

Journal 3 and 4

Journal Entry 3-A
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This is Student Jack with the University of Paris, recording my experiences and observations on my travels and courses throughout my study of behavior and functions of the mind. The date of recording: June Nineteenth, two-thousand-fifteen. I forgot to restate the intro in my last log . . . Gotta remember that. . .

Anyways, as per-usual, I've been watching my clients and making sure I try to understand their body language and how they react to certain environmental and social changes around them.

Client one (bluebell her codename) was running out of a bakery where my apartment is by this morning. She raced down the street, bag in hand, mouth stretched out straight with clenched teeth and her breathing was quicker and shakier. My hypothesis? Running late.

Client two (codename: hot-stuff) was out in a park today, after I got out of Uni. She was posing again, similar faces and positioning as yesterday. Well, not the exact same poses as yesterday; there were different stances she was given to do, but her body language was consistent as yesterday: barely slumped shoulders, smiles a bit forced, that kind of thing.

As for my new favorite subject, it was the bitch that tripped me that one time. Her codename? Bitch, duh.

Anyway, what is rather interesting about her that I found is her connections between my other two clients. With Bluebell, she narrows her eye, smiles with a smirk to show her pearl teeth, leans in to the point bluebell has to recoil and even leave to avoid Bitch's raised voice and annoying laughter.

Yet, with Hot-stuff, she tackles her with hugs and even leans in to kiss, but the model leans back and turns her head with wide eyes, a frown, stiff shoulders— uncertainty and uncomfortableness of the situation. By the looks of it, she touches her fondly, always close and trying to persuade the staff to let Hot-stuff accompany Bitch for something (note: my French is officially good enough to pick up the gist of an entire conversation. If I were my mother, I'd be proud).

So the three seem to be connected via Bitch and makes it all the more ingesting in my opinion. If this plays out like a crazy drama though, I can tell you right now that I'm out and going to find a different subject.

This was Jackal Yortel, Student of University of Paris, signing off for now.

Journal Entry 4-A
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(Fading laughter) so . . . I've found myself a job! I know, right? This creepy-ass motherfucker finally landed himself a gig in Paris! The most amazing news in WEEKS! I was running low on euros and the rent was coming up, so this is a Huge save. My ass would be out on the streets of it weren't for my friend, Pierre. Luckily, not all the French hate Americans. I made a friend in Uni and they know a bit of English and since I know enough French, were able to hang out and help each other. He was able to help me to land a job at his own workplace, so now I've got money to help pay tuition and keep a roof over my head. Hopefully there'll be enough for food and supplies for my study.

Anyway. What's surprisingly even better than finding a way to make money, is that the class is going to let students job shadow the different fields of the profession of their choosing and figure out what it'll be like. Me being me, immediately chose to take part of the School Oriented group.

And I kid you not, the school we chose to go to was the one my clients attended. The moment we walked onto their campus, I saw Bluebell and Hot-Stuff, even Bitch herself was strutting around like she was the shit. I was about to squeal seeing them in an environment completely different from where I've seen them. They were interacting with other people, their friends, and soon teachers and classmates.

I completely enjoyed my time in the school—mostly. It was nice and big, the curriculums were a bit different than in America, but it was understandable why the styles of teaching and discipline were different since I was comparing two extremely different countries. However, what makes my entire experience worth it, and what makes it hilarious, it when I saw Hot-stuff up close.

Pierre and I were wandering the halls as college students do and a teacher yelled at us for monkeying around and told us to do something productive. Having nothing better to do than observe the classes (and since I couldn't interact with the actual students) we walked into a lesson. And not just any lesson, the one class with all of my clients. All three of them. In one room.

The teacher, rightfully so, was pissed until my friend explained everything. After that, kids began to ask questions about college and what it was like. Of course, he took anything that was directed towards me in the most discreet way possible (not letting me get a words in) and that's when it happened. Hot-stuff spoke.

*sigh with a hint of amusement*

He was a guy. I don't know how I haven't been able to pick it up all this time, but he is in fact a human male. Now that I think of it, things start to make sense — flat chest, boy clothes, clinging girlfriend (maybe). But the moment he spoke I zoned out and couldn't think straight for a good fifty seconds.

*laughs*

But what's great is when a kid asked if we could demonstrate what we were learning in college. I, being the good samaritan I am, obliged and pulled out a psychological story that plays a trick with memory. I had it in English and relied on my friend to translate, which he did beautifully. I of course primed the students into believing the character's name was Farmer Brown and proceeded into telling the story of Matt Brown. As I rambled on about him, then took time to briefly summarize human memory best I could on the conceptual level and asked questions on the story.

As expected, they had source amnesia and guessed on what exactly the answers were. It was a fun experience, truly. However, Bitch had muttered something to her classmate and they giggled to each other. I took it upon myself to ask what they were talking about, she of course was a brat and made fun of my accent. My friend however, stood up for me and called her out on it. The teacher sent the brat to the office and shortly sent us out too.

Granted I absolutely am livid that she couldn't keep to herself about my accent. Just cause I'm from another country doesn't take away my capability to learn other languages. I bet she wouldn't know a single word in English even if it was a cognitive. But I digress.

After that fiasco, Pierre and I got a cup of coffee, he went to take on his shift, and I sped home realizing I had to document all of this.

Anyways, with that out of the way, I leave my findings until next time. This has been Yortel Jack, signing off again.