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Other authors: My heroine was a poor orphan. Pity her.
Jane Austen: Pft, orphans have it easy! My heroine has two living parents and three extra guardians and all of them are the worst...
#mansfield park#jane austen#fanny price#jane austen knew the real horror wasn't dead parents but crappy parents#she still gets orphan pity by killing off the nice parents#but then makes her heroines suffer through the rest#you can't tell me that once in her life in her heart of hearts Elizabeth Bennet hasn't wished to be an orphan#or anne elliot!#jane austen writes child embarrassed by parent wanting to melt into the floor SO WELL
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ladybug please stop worrying your chaton and go the fuck to sleep.
AO3
Pairing - Ladynoir
Prompt - 'Rest'
Summary -
His grin continued to grow as the weight against his knee got heavier and heavier, a chuckle waiting to escape his twitching lips.
"Somebody's sleepy~" He sing-songed, earning an unintelligible grumble from his Lady who immediately lifted her head back up and attempted to play it off with a downright adorable pout. Chat Noir didn't need to open his eyes to know that hers were barely open and that her body was swaying a little from the lethargy and pent-up exhaustion.
"No, I simply lost my balance. That's all."
~(x)~
.
.
.
Chat Noir smirked cheekily with his eyes closed, arms crossed under his head like a makeshift pillow and his body resting on one of the many rooftops in the arrondissement. One of his knees was raised as he lazed under the warm night sky and every small breeze that combed through his hair was soothing enough to relax his entire body.
His grin continued to grow as the weight against his knee got heavier and heavier, a chuckle waiting to escape his twitching lips.
"Somebody's sleepy~" He sing-songed, earning an unintelligible grumble from his Lady who immediately lifted her head back up and attempted to play it off with a downright adorable pout. Chat Noir didn't need to open his eyes to know that hers were barely open and that her body was swaying a little from the lethargy and pent-up exhaustion.
"No, I simply lost my balance. That's all." She huffed, eyes now focusing on the view before her and forcing her body to sit ramrod straight all whilst blind to his feline greens observing her frame. He chewed the inside of his mouth with a hum, silently keeping his eyes on her for a little longer and his grin straightening into a frown of concern for her wellbeing.
"Such a stubborn girl~" He nudged his knee against her back gently like a tease only to have it elbowed away (though, she missed the first couple of times and her sharp elbow felt more like a kitten's headbutt when it finally made contact with his leg). Ladybug managed to last only a few seconds of adamant rigidity before her body unconsciously went back to his like a heat-seeking magnet, her heavy head back on his knee much to her dismay and relaxing against her partner's addicting warmth.
"You should rest," This time he spoke gingerly and sweetly, now sitting up and squeezing her shoulder in a comforting manner. He even rested his forehead on top of her head affectionately, just like his namesake and a quiet purr vibrated through his chest. Finally, she faced him with little reluctance and he got a proper glimpse of how lethargic and beat down she truly looked. A soft, despondent sound left his mouth and his heart ached on the love of his life's behalf. He just wanted to destroy all the things that were making her suffer in the snap of his fingers and kiss her tired eyes lovingly so that she could be alleviated of all her worries.
Unfortunately, he wasn't capable of such power so he could only do the next best thing for his partner. Lowering his feline ears, he opened up his arms as if to beckon her to come into them, his greens pleading throughout.
.
Thankfully, his Lady's tiredness was stronger than her pride and stubbornness and the heroine found herself sinking into his arms before her brain could even comprehend her action. She didn't even attempt to grumble when Chat Noir pressed his lips into her hair preciously and when he laid back down with her still in his arms, she was instantly in dreamland.
.
When she woke up, Ladybug couldn't help but note...
.
It's been a long time since she's slept so well.
.
.
.
~(x)~
#my writing#miraculous ladybug#miraculous ladybug and chat noir#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#adrien agreste#chat noir#ladynoir#ml fanfiction#ml fanfic#ml fanfics
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Romeo and Juliet for the character ask
Favorite thing about them:
Romeo: His tenderness and passion, and the sheer poetry with which he expresses them. Also, the fact that he's allowed to be tender, emotional, and "unmasculine" (not that he's as "effeminate" as disdainful pop culture sometimes claims he is, but still...), yet the narrative doesn't condemn him for it, and it hasn't stopped him from becoming the most iconic young lover of all time.
Juliet: Her own tenderness and passion which match Romeo's beat for beat, combined with intelligence, eloquence, and wit not often seen in an ingenue. Also, the fact that Shakespeare lets her be passionate and sexual and rebel against her parents, yet never frames her as a "loose woman" or "unmaidenly" for it, but keeps her a fully sympathetic heroine.
Least favorite thing about them:
Romeo: The killing of Tybalt. Despite every argument that can be made to justify it… even if honor and friendship demand nothing less after Mercutio’s death… the fact remains that he kills his new bride’s beloved cousin, and all the rest of the tragedy stems from that act.
Juliet: The selfish aspect of her choice to fake her own death: that she does it even though it means putting her parents and the Nurse through unimaginable pain. Not that I have much sympathy for her parents after the way they treated her, and after being abused by them and then betrayed by the Nurse, I understand why Juliet isn’t too concerned about their feelings. But I might have liked her to be a little more torn for their sake.
Three things I have in common with them:
*I can be passionate and melodramatic.
*I love deeply and intensely.
*I'm an only child.
Three things I don't have in common with them:
*I've never held a sword or dagger.
*I have a good relationship with my parents.
*I've never been suicidal.
Favorite line: How to choose?! All the most famous quotes, and basically everything else they say to and about each other.
brOTP:
Romeo: Mercutio and Benvolio.
Juliet: The Nurse until her betrayal.
OTP: Each other.
nOTP: Their parents or Friar Laurence.
Random headcanon:
Romeo: He's only fifteen, or maybe even fourteen. Not that I object to portraying him as sixteen or seventeen, but I do object whenever someone thinks he's in his twenties. In Juliet's speech looking forward to consummating their marriage, she believes that he's a virgin like herself, and unless we're meant to see her as being painfully naïve, that belief makes more sense the younger he is.
Juliet: Her wit and cleverness are partly thanks to the influence of the Nurse's witty husband, who was a strong, affectionate presence in her life when he was alive. As for how willing and eager she is to consummate their marriage, rather than shy and nervous like other girls her age might be... well, apart from her sheer passion for Romeo, that's the influence of the Nurse.
Unpopular opinion: I wish more critics would take their suffering seriously and not just view it as typical "teen angst." By this I don't just mean haters, but critics who sympathize with them too. I'd like to see people view Romeo's mental health, and its neglect by his family and friends, as more of a real concern, rather than just labeling him (either disdainfully or affectionately) as a melodramatic, impulsive teenager. Ditto for Juliet's dysfunctional relationship with her parents and Romeo's lack of communication with his, rather than just saying "All teens fight with/rebel against/feel unable to confide in their parents." It takes more than that to drive two young people to suicide!
Song I associate with them:
Romeo:
"Ah! Léve-toi, soleil!" from Charles Gounod's opera Roméo et Juliette.
youtube
Juliet:
"Ah! Je veux vivre" from Gounod's opera.
youtube
Both:
Nino Rota's main theme from the Zeffirelli film (a.k.a. "What Is A Youth?" or "A Time For Us"):
youtube
Tchaikovsky's "Fantasy Overture":
youtube
And their various love duets from Gounod's opera.
Favorite picture of them:
The iconic painting by Frank Bernard Dicksee.
This painting by John Henry Frederick Bacon.
Their lifeless bodies in Frederic Leighton's painting of the final scene.
Leslie Howard and Norma Shearer in the 1936 film – too old, yes, but I have to honor them because they served as prototypes for Disney's Snow White and her Prince.
Laurence Olivier and Vivian Leigh, 1940.
John Stride and Judi Dench (yes, she was young once), 1960.
Leonard Whiting and Olivia Hussey in the 1968 Franco Zeffirelli film.
Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes in the 1996 Baz Luhrmann film.
Adetomiwa Edun and Ellie Kendrick, Globe Theatre, 2009.
Orlando Bloom and Condola Rasheed, Broadway, 2014.
The Prince and Cinderella Richard Madden and Lily James, West End, 2016.
Rudolph Nureyev and Margot Fonteyn in Prokofiev's ballet, 1966:
Some other images from Prokofiev's ballet:
From Ian Judge's LA Opera production of Gounod's opera: the opera has Romeo still alive when Juliet revives, so they die together, and Judge's staging features this poignant final tableau, where they feebly reach for each other's hands just before they expire.
@ariel-seagull-wings, @thevampiricnihal, @cto10121, @giuliettaluce
#character ask#romeo and juliet#william shakespeare#romeo montague#juliet capulet#ask game#tw: death#tw: suicide
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Make the Fire Burn
Bones in the Ocean Masterlist
Kira had gone through a phase, during her apprenticeship, where all she read were swooning, brainless romance novels. Her days, after all, were spent filling her mind with magic, learning symbols and their combinations. The silly stories of beautiful women and handsome men were the only things she’d found that held off the worst of the headaches.
She had traded the precious few copper coins she had to spare for these tales, damsels in distress or troubled lovely lads with torn bodices and breeches rescued by the strong prince or princess, knights in gleaming armor sweeping them off their feet. The blood that must have stained them during the floridly described battles against wicked villains was never mentioned but implied, somehow deliciously implied. She’d stayed up too late many times reading by candlelight and magic the way these heroines would come undone and then… well, she would usually stop reading before the final chapter.
She often lost interest before the books could make it to the happily ever afters. The final cooing happiness was so much less important, to her, than the breathless ways they got there.
Now, though, Kira was beginning to realize the books - many of which featured captivity, thrilling references to bonds both real and magical - had left out one very important truth. Perhaps the most important descriptor of them all.
None of them had ever made it clear how deeply, achingly, excruciatingly boring being held captive would be.
This room, with its portraits of the dead who had suffered her fate before her staring down at her from the walls, was a very pretty cage, but it wasn’t a very entertaining one. The servants brought her meals but refused to answer her questions, only giving her sad smiles. Occasionally she woke up in horror to find herself wearing different clothing than she had gone to sleep in. At least there had been no more breakfasting at the dining table - melting the silver in her hands despite having had her magical tools taken from her had apparently made an impression on the loathsome Lord Wentworth.
That, she had to admit, was a little satisfying.
Still, she hadn’t been able to make it happen again, and so she was trapped here in this room torn between hours of lying on the bed and staring sightlessly at the ceiling and frantic attempts to discover some sort of secret here she could use to free herself.
So far… no such luck.
She had found some dust-covered books shoved between the back of the bed and the wall, but they appeared to simply be old primers for some long-dead child learning to read. The pages, scrawled in childish loops and swirls, had nearly crumbled under her fingertips.
In the wardrobe there were out-of-date dresses, ribbons for her hair, even shoes that didn’t fit. She had… eventually tried on the shoes. It was something to do, it used up at least a few seconds of her otherwise eventless existence.
No wonder the damsels in her romances had been so desperately grateful to their dashing rescuers. She’d rip her bodice off herself just to have someone to talk to.
She wasn’t even entirely sure how long she’d been trapped here. It had to have been a month, right? The full moon had come and gone, waned day by day back to a sliver of itself lit like silver, with the rest only barely implied in the shadowy sky.
The sliver was widening again, working itself back to fullness. Perhaps six weeks, then, and had no one come looking for her? Did Kiraya Losna’s life matter so little, in the scheme of things, that not even her landlady had come looking for her when rent was due and she was gone? Had they sold off her clothes and books to make back a little bit of what she owed, or simply tossed it all in the gutter with the trash, to be torn apart for any hint of value by strangers?
Her heart twisted if she thought about it too long.
Her diaries might make an entertaining night’s read for some scoundrel who wanted to amuse himself with the pain of a girl who must learn on her own how to make herself a woman, when her body wasn’t correct without some help. The life of a girl with too much magic but no mother must make for quite the tale, indeed, for someone who did not care about the real person behind the pen-marks on the pages.
Would whoever had found her diaries in the refuse laugh over her joy when she had unlocked the secrets to the spell that made her reflection match her inside and out? Would they mock her dreams, even if they’d been fulfilled?
It didn’t matter. Not really.
She was never getting those diaries back. Hells, she was never even going to leave this place, and she knew it. She would be held here, and then die here, and have no choice in how it happened. Guilford Wentworth had declared her the betrothed to himself - or his son, she still didn’t quite understand - and her fate was to be the tame magician-wife for a lord whose demands would be great. And still, another would have to be taken to bear him children, which Kira could never do.
So even in her captivity, she would damn someone else to the same fate. She felt very like the siren, in that way - trapped as a way to trap others in her same prison, this labyrinthian hell. If only she could have spoken to him again, she might have felt less lonely, more able to bear the boredom.
Some nights, at least, her restless attempts to sleep were broken by the siren’s mournful song winding up through the walls, a mourner’s wail of wordless melody, but he didn’t try to talk to her again, or even to control her.
He was trapped in his own lovely prison.
Although, honestly, at least he could have a swim in his.
Kira had resigned herself to her third read-through of the only genuine book she’d found in this room - hidden under some lovely scarves in the wardrobe, it was a story about pirates that absolutely had been written by someone who had never so much as seen a ship or an ocean and was more or less simply inventing how it might work as they wrote. It was absolutely worthless, and yet it was the only thing she thought might be keeping her sane here.
At some point, she blinked out of her stupor and realized she could hear the sound of horses’ hooves, the rattling of carriage wheels. Kira shot to her feet, the book dropping to the floor immediately and thankfully forgotten. She raced to the window, curving her fingers around the cold iron bars, listening.
She couldn’t see much from here, but-... yes, that was definitely a carriage. Had someone come to look for her, finally? Had someone realized she was still here?
Had someone noticed she was gone?
There were voices she didn’t recognize, pitched just too low for her to hear. Men’s voices, maybe one woman. She pushed her face between the bars, listening as hard as she could. Babbage was definitely one of the voices, and Wentworth, but she didn’t know the others. Wentworth and Babbage seemed perfectly chatty and friendly, setting Kira’s teeth on edge, but there was something to the other voices that didn’t sound the same.
The voices faded and were replaced by the stablehands moving the carriage horses to the stables, she assumed, and she slumped against the window, staring down at the topiary maze that led to a small fish pond below. Her heart had briefly raced - now it shuddered back to its usual slow beat. Even her heart could not find a reason to either fear or hope in this endless repeating nothing.
How long she stayed like that, she didn’t know. Her brain and body seemed simply to… pull away from the larger world around them. She was here and not-here, despair and absolutely nothingness warring within her.
She had been an idiot to feel even that single bright spot of hope.
She had gone back to pick up the pirate book when there was a knock at the door. It wasn’t time for any of the meals brought to her, nor was it early enough to be the washbasin needing refilled. Kira swallowed, slowly standing up straight. She kept her eyes on the door as she slowly backed up, until she bumped into the wall and nearly knocked down one of the portraits that watched her sleep.
She said nothing.
They would come in or not - she knew by now it had nothing to do with whether she wanted it to happen. At least she would be awake this time. She lifted her chin, crossed her arms in front of her, and tried for all the world to look like she could do anything at all if they decided to drag her down to the siren and rob her of her mind right here and right now.
The door swung open, and there stood a man she had never seen before, but she knew immediately just looking at him that he was Guilford Wentworth the Fifth, here in the flesh. He had the same sort of look to his face, but so much younger, with a thick head of hair and wider eyes he must have gotten from his mother. He was tall and lanky where his father’s waistline had thickened over time. The family look was there, yes, but the young man was clearly his own person, too.
The lord himself stood behind his son, with a hand on his shoulder. “Here she is,” Lord Wentworth said, his voice thick slime as he gestured, stepping inside and pulling the younger Wentworth with him. “Your bride.”
Kira lifted her chin just a little more, so she had to look down her nose at the two of them. “We will see about that.” She kept her posture loose, unbothered, even as she felt her fingernails dig into her skin and her heart start to race. “I have my own thoughts on that,” Kira said, voice flat. “And you are…?”
The younger man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he shifted, working himself out from under his father’s hand. He turned cold eyes on her. “Guilford Wentworth the Fifth,” He said, hostile and sharp. Only when the lord shoved at his back did he stumble forwards, brushing imaginary wrinkles from his waistcoat and pants before reaching out for her hand, bending forward at the waist with a straight spine.
He intended to kiss the back of her hand.
“Absolutely not,” She said, and did not move an inch.
The young man dropped his hand, one lip curling in a sneer. “Rude.”
“Oh, I am ever so, especially when held against my will. You’ll find my impolite instincts much harder to suppress without the siren to silence me.”
The young man snorted. “You find yourself terribly clever, don’t you?”
“Maybe. Could anyone think more of themselves than your father? Doubtful. Now, is there anything I can call you besides your father’s son?” She asked, tipping her head to one side. Her hair fell slightly against her cheek - she hadn’t bothered putting it up in at least a week and it hung in a riot of tangles down past her shoulders. She tried not to feel the Lord Wentworth’s eyes as they moved over her, and focused instead on the clearer, cleaner feel of his son’s dismay and hostility. “You must go by something, and I assume only the one man allows himself to be known as the lofty lordship here.”
To her surprise, she caught a slight twitch at the corner of the young lord’s mouth, as if he very nearly smiled before he got himself back under control. He had to duck his head just a little so that his father didn’t see it. “Ford,” He offered her, voice softening - just a little. “I go by Ford, where I live in the Colonies.”
He offered his hand again.
“Ford, then,” She acknowledged, hesitantly. This time, she allowed him to take her hand, felt his warm, dry lips press against her knuckles. She wiped her hand on her dress when she took it back, and watched his mouth twist again at the sight. “I am Kiraya Losna.”
“I know,” Ford said, and his eyes flickered towards the looming, smug presence of his father and then back to her. There was something to the look on his face she struggled to read. “I have been… told about you.”
“In preparation for our wedding, I imagine,” She said, dryly, and then turned abruptly away to look outside again. “For the sake of honesty, I should say I don’t intend to go through with it.”
“It won’t matter,” He answered, and she glanced back at him, eyebrows furrowing a little. He didn’t sound smug, like his father, but instead a little… battered. Perhaps he had witnessed rebellions before, or at least their aftermath. She wondered if he had ever rebelled, himself. “I will be… kind to you, Miss Losna, if I can-”
“I think that’s enough,” Lord Wentworth said, and clapped his hands together, just once. Ford flinched at the crack of palm on palm, even though Wentworth was all the way across the room. Her chest went cold as she saw how he hunched over himself, and then just as suddenly straightened his spine and set his shoulders back, jaw locked at a harsh angle. “Come, Ford. You and your sister need to see to your rooms, unpack your things… get settled in. The twins will be here within the week, as well, after all-”
“The twins?” Ford’s head shot up, and he turned on his heel, moving back to his father with a sudden burst of energy and speed. “The twins are away at school, Father, why-”
“For the wedding,” Guilford said, smooth as a snake’s belly soundless along the ground. “I thought you were fond of them, Ford. Was I mistaken…?”
“No, not mistaken, just-... I wouldn’t-... want to interrupt their studies, is all-”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. In any case, Miss Losna, you’ll be joining us this evening, won’t you?”
Kira’s eyes moved from one to the other. “I… suppose that’s… your prerogative, Lord Wentworth,” She managed, her voice seemingly speaking with perfect polite without her consent. “I will… see you at dinner, I suppose, Ford.”
“Right.” Ford rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. As he walked out the door, he slunk past his father, his steps hurrying him past the man as quickly as he could go. “At dinner, Miss Losna.”
He was gone.
Guilford lingered in the doorway, looking back at Kira, his eyes moving over her body in a way that held entirely too much possession. It made her want to show up to dine with a bag on her head, draped in the comforter until no piece of her could be seen at all. Not that she thought it would make any difference. He would lust over what was beneath whether he could see it or not.
She wondered if she could melt his bones with the wild magic that had worked on the silver, if he hurt her badly enough. If she only could become angry enough. It was only with effort she kept her voice calm and seemingly careless. “Will you be sending Nadette to help me prepare, Lord Wentworth? These dresses here were made for a woman with servants, I cannot do them up myself.”
He smiled at her, and it brought no warmth to his expression whatsoever. Only seemed to freeze her further. “A lovely image to hand to me, my dear.”
“I am not your dear,” Kira sneered, leaning back against the wall, her hands pressed against its gentle texture, her palms somehow freezing and burning right to the tips of her fingers. Her heart raced within her, trying to run from the confines of her imprisoned body. “And I will never be your anything. I will not be your son’s, either. No matter how he must hate you.”
Wentworth paused, framed by the door, and chuckled, shaking his head. “You will, Miss Losna, be the loving wife to my son at the end of the next month. You will adore him wholly and utterly. And the both of you will adore me just the same.”
She pressed her palms back harder. The feeling of the wall made them ache but it was the only thing that kept her voice steady. “And his feelings on this marriage? He didn’t seem to agree-”
“What does that matter?” Wentworth blinked, as if surprised by the question. “My children do as I bid them, Miss Losna. They always have, and they always will. Or they cease to have a reason to be alive. Much like you.”
He closed the door and left her there.
The key turned in the lock.
She could hear him humming a jaunty tune until his voice faded entirely, and she was - once again - alone in her gilded prison cell.
Kira stepped away from the wall, panic making her nerves spark and muscles jump under her skin, with no way to run, nothing to run away to. She took one step, and then another. Somewhere down below, the siren began his song again. There was no magic in it. He was only crying, in the way of his kind, and his despair echoed hers.
Kira ran, flinging herself onto the bed and burying herself beneath the heavy covers, pulling her pillow over her face with its lavender scent and screaming into it until her throat was raw. Her lungs burned for air and her throat ached, but still she kept screaming.
At some point, screams became heaving sobs, hot tears that soaked into her hair, her pillow, and seemed to boil their way down her cheeks.
She wept until there were no tears left. Then, she lay in silence and simply waited for the next step in what felt like an inexorable slide off a cliff into the darkness below. The siren's song rose higher and higher, slipping underneath her skin.
Sleep, He must have sung to her. Sleep now and dream of better things.
She drifted off, and knew only that his voice felt not like chains, now, but like a hand on her head, arms around her, the way her mother had once held her after nightmares.
If only this had been one.
If only she were able to wake up from this.
Where she had been standing, two handprints had burned black into the wall. Magic smoked, sparked embers, and then faded to soot unseen.
-
Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee
#bones in the ocean#original writing#fantasy writing#original fantasy#fiction writing#my writing#writing#whump#captivity#reluctant whumper#magic whump#magic whumpee#captured#captive
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Real Talk.
Warning: the following post contains mature themes and references to drug overdose, death, and Fentanyl.
For the record, what I'm about to say in regards to NARCAN has nothing to do with me standing on a soapbox. Instead, I'm asking that people do what they can to educate themselves on the importance and necessity of this life-saving drug.
And I'll start by telling you a story:
This morning, I went to check on my roommate who lives on the floor above me. She had asked me to make sure she didn't sleep through her many alarms like she always did so that she could make it to work on time. She's a server at a steakhouse chain - and a damn good one at that.
She's also my friend. A friend who, just like myself, is nearly nine months sober.
Except this morning when I knocked on her door, she didn't answer. And when I opened the door and peeked in her room she appeared to be fast asleep. But she was half naked, and the fan she had borrowed from me the night before was set to full blast. Even though it was cold outside.
Her room was like an ice box. And she was so pale. And no matter how loud I said her name, she wouldn't open her eyes and look at me.
She wouldn't wake up.
So I poked her in the shoulder. I shook her. I yelled her name. And then I realized her lips were blue. Her body was stiff. And she was cold to the touch.
The only sound she could make was that of a low, almost eerie groan. If I'm being honest, it's a sound that I'd never quite heard before. And I don't want to ever hear it again.
What I would come to realize seconds later was that my friend had overdosed on Fentanyl. Possibly a few hours earlier. Which meant she was fucking dying.
I panicked, of course. Because I'm an alcoholic. I've never touched Heroin, let alone witnessed an overdose. I know what to do if someone was suffering from, say, alcohol poisoning...but this...this was brand new territory.
Because with Fentanyl, seconds fucking matter.
I sprinted to wake up another girl. Seconds later we were back with our friend where our worst fear was absolutely confirmed.
Fentanyl Overdose.
I'd never fucking seen this. Never. But we didn't have time to fall apart because from there we dashed down the stairs. She went straight for the NARCAN and I went for my phone to call 911.
Less than a minute later, she and I were back in our friend's room to administer the NARCAN, only for us to realize that she wasn't breathing anymore.
By this point, another one of my housemates had joined us as well. And the others were soon to follow. While I was on the phone relaying instructions from the dispatcher on how to revive our friend, the others were moving her limp body to the floor.
They were doing chest compressions. Two were racing to find more NARCAN stashed in someone's glove compartment. And then another was directing EMS on where to go in the house.
It was a team effort to make sure this girl fucking lived. We could yell at her for this tomorrow. But for now, all we cared about was her living today.
I had never been through this. But as much as I hate to say this, today I was grateful that there were others in the house who had been through this before. For those who knew how to administer NARCAN.
In total, we administered something like 28 milligrams to bring her back. Which is a lot. A cop may have mumbled out something about us not waiting long enough in between doses to see if we'd given her enough before administering another. But he can go kick rocks.
Because we did the best we could all while running on straight adrenaline and doing everything we could to save someone while not falling apart in the process.
In the end, what matters is that she woke up. She was in pain. And very ill. And has since been admitted to the hospital.
Now the rest of us are left to deal with the tears and the adrenaline comedown, along with the guilt of all the signs we may or may not have missed. And that is really fucking shitty. I am so mad at my friend.
But at the same time, I love her so damn much. And I'm grateful that I will hopefully have the opportunity to share all these feelings with her one day soon.
She was fucking lucky. And so were we.
I'm grateful we found her in-time - because the paramedics made it very clear that we cut it real close. I'm grateful I live with people who found it in them to unite to save someone's life.
I'm grateful for NARCAN.
And beyond that, I'm grateful that I now know what to do with it. I never completely comprehended the weight of its importance until today. I didn't quite understand why my friend kept a stash of it in her glove compartment when she had no intentions of getting high anymore.
But today that stash saved her life. I'm begging you, if you have a loved one who suffers from this disease, please consider keeping this life-saving drug within reach.
Read up about it. Talk about it. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. Even if you can't fathom why someone would think of or want to use. Even if the idea of having to use it scares you.
I'm sure if it ever came down to it, you would rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Wouldn't you?
I've come to learn that many people who relapse, even after months of serious sobriety, don't plan it. It just happens. Impulsivity is a deadly part of this disease. One lapse in judgement - just one - could very well mean death.
It's really that serious.
Because with this disease, you're always guaranteed another relapse. But you're never guaranteed another recovery.
Thanks to NARCAN, my friend will have another shot.
That's all I've got for now, guys and gals. I'd be lying if I said we weren't all emotional wrecks over here. But it's all gonna be okay.
And finally, but most importantly: if you're struggling with anything, be it addiction or mental health, there is no shame in asking for help. Not now. Not ever. We're all human. We all need love.
We all deserve support to overcome our darkest of days.
Love, Britt
#britt's notes#addiction#sobriety#drug overdose#sobriety journey#narcan#substance abuse#today was a hard day#i love you all
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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 67
Masterlist
Chapter 66
Okay, this was probably the longest chapter I have ever done, not just for this book, but probably the longest chapter out of any of my works I have written so far, but there was just so much to get through.
There's a surprise cameo appearance from a witcher character we haven't seen since the earlier chapters, who may or may not also end up being unexpected help. Also I'm incorporating Alicole into this; I know how divisive that pairing was, not exactly a fan of it myself (though it was funny that Alicent had an orgasm for the first time so good for her), but there's a reason for it when you read the chapter.
Also content warning for the Lady of Larks having a PTSD episode and her still dealing with her past trauma. With THAT said, I also have every intention of incorporating Daemon's Harenhall arc at some point in the story and have the ghost of the Lady of Larks haunt the shit out of him, because I want that man to suffer for what he put our heroine through.
------------Street of Silk earlier today------------------
Before the arrival of Prince Aemond from his trip to Storm's End- and that one thing that happened on the way back that Aemond didn't mean to happen, but he couldn't control his dragon- it had been a clear day in King's Landing.
Life was slowly getting back to normal following Aegon's coronation...or as normal as it could be with the threat of a civil war still looming over everyone's heads. There had been rumors that ships carrying the sigil of House Velaryon were making their way to form a blockade in the Gullet to stop ships coming and going into King's Landing; these were rumors that didn't exactly sit well with anyone in the city be they highborn or smallfolk as a blockade implies everyday essentials such as food would soon become scarce.
One could only hope that these whispers were nothing more than baseless rumors and that the potential conflict will soon end before it even begins.
At that one brothel on the Street of Silk, Ana Sand had just started her shift not too long ago, and was in the middle of entertaining a client. The man had just finished chasing his pleasure high and was now laying against Ana, resting his head against her chest. Ana combed her fingers through his hair.
This client was a fascinating figure to Ana; based on his accent, it was clear he hailed somewhere from the Eastern Continent. Apparently he had taken a boat from one side of the Continent that was intended to take up north towards Novigrad, but some storm got in the way and the ship was forced to divert course and take a detour, somehow ending up at the docks of King's Landing.
Though the ship had repaired damages received from the storm, the impending blockade at the Gullet at the hands of the Sea Snake have stalled any ships from leaving port for the time being.
So here this man was, stuck in a place he had never been to and whose customs were completely foreign to him. One thing he was grateful for was that the concept of brothels was a thing in this part of the world, and he had the coin the spare, so he may as well kill some time having fun and getting a little bit of intimate contact while he can.
"When you look the way I do, you take every opportunity that comes at you," the client had told her when she escorted him to a more private space.
Ana was a little confounded by that statement at first; sure the man's face was marred by jagged scars, resembling claws of a feral animal, and his yellow gold eyes might be off putting at first. But even Ana had to admit that in spite of those physical blemishes, the man still had a handsome face, there was no denying that.
Perhaps Continental women weren't the sort to overlook those scars to see that same handsome face she was seeing right now.
Being preoccupied with her client, Ana wasn't aware of how long she had been in this position. She didn't notice when Ivan had walked into the brothel, looking wherever he could when the madam told him Ana wasn't available right now. Initially, Ivan had took that to me that Ana was taking a break from work right now, but surely she could spare a few minutes to speak with him.
The half-elf saw Ana's figure behind some curtain, and he foolishly pulled the curtain back, not expecting Ana to be fully naked on the bed and holding a client in her arms. "Ana, there you are. You won't believe what has- oh my gods!"
Ivan quickly averted his gaze, his exclamation got both Ana and her client's attention directed at him. "Ivan?" "Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Ana," Ivan says, face starting to feel hot from the display before him, "I uh, I didn't realize you were uh, working." "Uh yes I am," Ana says like it's obvious, "I'm sorry, Ivan, I'm still working, you're going to have to wait."
"Right...of course," Ivan dared to turn his gaze to make eye contact with Ana to let her know he understood. But he also turned his gaze to the man and saw the silver wolf medallion that adorned his neck. Eyes wide in shock, realizing what this man was, Ivan backed away, a look of terror in his eyes. "Ivan?" Ana gives a confused look. Ivan said nothing, but turned around and practically sprinted out of the establishment.
"Ivan!" Ana quickly put a robe on, having intent to go after Ivan, but the half-elf was gone by the time she was somewhat decent. Ana pulled the curtain back to see no signs of the elven knight.
The client, a witcher by the name of Eskel, got up, still naked as the day he was born, and look over Ana's shoulder, curiosity written on his facial features, "What is a half-elf doing all the way in this part of the world?"
------------------------------
Ivan sprinted all the way back to the Red Keep. By the time he reached the gates, the half-elf was basically out of breath. He quickly looked around to see no one else was present to see him sneak.
Once in the Kingsguard quarters, Ivan had been quick to shed off his cloak and peasant disguise and put on his armor and white cloak. Checking to make sure his headband was secure, Ivan walked into the corridors to resume his duties.
He was going to have to go see Ana later in the day. Perhaps he should send a message first ahead of time so as to avoid another awkward encounter in the future. Ivan was also concerned about the client Ana had been tending to, recognizing him to be witcher. He wasn't like Geralt, but the medallion suggested that perhaps they know each other or probably move in the same social circles. Ivan did hope this wouldn't complicate things, he hoped this witcher hadn't recognized him to be a half-elf...or if he did, then Ivan hoped this witcher would keep his mouth shut and not out him.
If this witcher was anything like the White Wolf, Ivan had some confidence that he wouldn't have a problem keeping silent.
With these thoughts swirling in his head, Ivan stepped into what he assumed to be a vacant room with hopes of pulling himself together and manage to get through this day. As more time has passed, the threat over Criston revealing Ivan's elven heritage has not blown over; if anything, with the potential conflict between the Blacks and the Greens becoming more and more imminent, Cole had made it clear to Ivan that he best sort out where his true loyalties lie as the man knew Ivan once held some kind of loyalty to Aemma on account that she was the reason Ivan had a place among the highborn after he saved her life six years ago. Cole has been highly suspect of Ivan since Aemma's escape, much so to the point where Ivan barely could barely move two feet without someone watching over him. The only reason he was able to escape to the Street of Silk today was because the same eyes supposedly watching him had been distracted elsewhere. The constant looming threat was starting to get to Ivan to the point where he was convinced everyone was against him, that they all knew his secret anyway, and he was beginning to question his own sanity.
Ivan was now pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the sounds of someone moaning. It sounded like pleasurable moans, like the kind Ivan has heard at the brothel where Ana works.
Frowning a bit, realizing this room he was in wasn't exactly as vacant as he was expecting, Ivan followed the sounds, being careful to keep his footsteps silent; he peaked his head ever so slightly at one corner of what he assumed to be the washroom.
What he saw was something Ivan did not expect, and the shock on his face said it all.
Ivan saw Criston Cole, devoid of his white cloak and armor- but still kept his undergarments on- was between dowager Queen Alicent's legs, thrusting into the woman with determination. Alicent's mouth was open as she held onto Criston, continuing to moan in pleasure.
Under normal circumstances, Ivan's sex repulsed instincts would've had him doing a 180 and getting the fuck out of there as quickly as possible, like he did with Ana and that witcher she was with. However, the fact that this was the Lord Commander and the Dowager Queen had Ivan more in a state of shock than repulsion at this moment.
Thankfully both Cole and Alicent were too caught up in chasing their highs that Ivan was able to slip away and close the door without making too much of a sound.
Ivan couldn't help but have this wide grin on his face as he walked down the corridor. As Cole once had blackmail over Ivan, now Ivan had something to blackmail Cole.
Surely the threat to reveal that Cole has soiled his white cloak was enough to have Cole resend his threat to reveal Ivan's elven blood to the rest of the Kingsguard.
Right on that cue, Ivan heard a dragon's roar outside. He recognized those roars belong to Vhagar. Which meant Prince Aemond had returned from Storm's End.
-----------------Back to the present: dream sequence----------------
"I want you to put out your eye," Aemond threatens his nephew as he removes the eye patch to reveal the sapphire that replaced the eye Lucerys took from him, "as payment for mine."
"One will serve," Aemond unsheathed his dagger and tossed it to Luke, "I will not blind you. Plan to make a gift of it to my mother."
"....No," Luke said, giving Aemond a defiant look. "Then you are craven as well as a traitor," Aemond says, his rage and anger threatening to bubble to the surface and erupt like a volcano.
"GIVE ME YOUR EYE! OR I WILL TAKE IT, BASTARD!" Aemond charges at Luke, picking up the dagger with the intention to take the boy's eye so as to pay the debt. He had every intention to pay both the debt Luke held regarding Aemond's eye, and he had every intention to make Rhaenyra pay her debt for taking his beloved Aemma away from him.
"Aemond, stop it!" he hears Aemma call out to him. Aemond stopped in his tracks, turning to see Aemma standing there behind him, disappointment showing in her eyes. "Aemma?"
Aemond attempts to reach for Aemma, but her figure faded from existence. Next thing Aemond knew, he sees the scene change to him being in the sky astride Vhagar. Aemond knew exactly what was going to happen next. He tightly grasps the reins and tries to stop Vhagar from retaliating against Arrax for blowing fire at her face.
"No, Vhagar! Daor! Serve me, Vhagar! Dohaeres!" Aemond begs his dragon, but she did not listen. Vhagar climbs higher into the sky where Luke and Arrax were flying, unaware of the older dragon's presence until Vhagar was practically on top of them...right before she tore both rider and dragon from the sky with one chomp of her massive jaws.
"VHAGAR! NO! No..." Aemond looked down in horror to see bits of a wing and other parts of Arrax falling into the waters below. Aemond didn't want to believe this was happening. He didn't mean to kill Lucerys...he didn't want to kill his nephew, he just wanted to scare him, send a message that the boy still owed him a debt. He looked to see chunks of flesh and fresh blood were still present between Vhagar's teeth when she roared. "Vhagar...what have you done?" Aemond whispers hoarsely.
"What did you do?" a familiar yet distorted voice calls out, "Aemond...what did you do?!" Aemond looked to see Aemma floating in the sky, wearing a simple dress as she too turned her gaze to the ground below her, a horrified look on her face at the sight of the carnage that was done. "Aemma-" "What did you do?!" Aemma asks, the horror in her eyes still present, "Aemond, what did you do?"
"I...I didn't mean it, Aemma," Aemond insists, "I only wanted to scare him, I...I didn't want this! I lost control, you have to believe me!" "You killed him..." Aemma says in a hoarse voice, tears falling from her eyes, "you killed Lucerys...he was your nephew, and you killed him." "Aemma, I'm sorry-" Aemond reaches out but Aemma backs away
"You killed him..." Aemma gave a look of rage and sadness, pointing an accusatory finger at Aemond, "You killed Lucerys!" "Aemma-" "HE WAS MY BROTHER! HE WAS YOUR NEPHEW!" dream Aemma shouts, angry tears spilling forth, "YOU KILLED HIM! YOU'RE A KINSLAYER!" "I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" Aemond shouts back, unable to handle the accusations, "IT WASN'T ME! IT WAS VHAGAR! I LOST CONTROL!"
"KINSLAYER!" dream Aemma shouts again, "MONSTER! KINSLAYER! And to think I had even considering being your lady wife." "Aemma...please..." Aemond begs in a hoarse voice, a tear escaping his own eye, "Aemma, please..." he reaches out, but Aemma slaps his hand away. She turns her back and walks towards another figure, who Aemond recognized to be Cregan Stark. "Aemma...no...Aemma, please...don't go, don't leave me. Aemma! PLEASE DON'T GO!" Aemma ignored Aemond's pleas and takes her place at Lord Stark's side, only turning to give Aemond a look of contempt and disgust, "you should've gone after me when I left for Winterfell," she says, "you should've stopped me from leaving...you would've saved yourself from shame..."
The scene fades into complete darkness as Aemond bolts from his bed, breaking out in cold sweat and panting.
The prince looked around realizing that he was back in his chambers in King's Landing. It had all been a dream...
No, it wasn't a dream. Storm's End happened. That encounter with Luke in the castle happened- Aemond demanded an eye from his nephew and Luke refused. Aemond had chased Luke and Arrax on Vhagar across the the Stromlands...and then Vhagar diverted off course to retaliate against Arrax blowing fire in her face.
And we already know what happened after that.
In the aftermath of Luke's tragic demise, Aemond found himself returning to King's Landing, that trip feeling a distant almost illusion, as he spent most of that time processing what he just did...what Vhagar had done. The moment he returned to the Red Keep, Aemond said not a word to anyone, not his brother, sister, mother, grandsire, or even his father figure; Aemond wasn't even aware that the Lady of Larks and her brother were now residing in the Red Keep as Aegon had appointed (y/n) to entertain his children.
All Aemond did was storm into his chambers and shut himself in. He allowed no one inside, not even the servants. Various crashing sounds were heard from the other side of those doors when Aemond attempted to pull himself together, only for his grief and his guilt and his rage to get the better of him and drone his sorrows in whatever wine was available in his rooms and take out his rage on whatever possessions he had in his chambers at that time to the point where he was drunk and exhausted and he fell into his bed, falling in a fitful sleep, haunted by that same nightmare of him killing Luke and Aemma turning her back on him as a response.
Aemond killed his nephew...and once word of that is finally confirmed and spread out to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms, all of Westeros will look upon Aemond as a cursed man- a monster who could blatantly committed the vile sin of kinslaying with little regard.
Aemond sat up on one side of the bed, holding his head in his hands, ignoring the strays strands of his hair that fell over his face. The nightmare still fresh in his mind, Aemond begin to hyperventilate, tears falling from his eyes.
He didn't mean to kill Lucerys. He only wanted to scare the boy and send the message that Luke and his entire family owed Aemond a debt; not just for taking his eye but for taking away the woman he loves...for forcing Aemma to turn against him. And in his blinding, red rage, Aemond lost control of his dragon...and Luke paid the price for that same rage.
The moment he saw the remains of Vhagar's carnage falling into the open waters below-when he saw the ripped remains of Arrax's wings- Aemond knew that any chances of resolving the ongoing conflict peacefully have all but vanished. It was certain that word had finally reached Rhaenyra that her half-brother's dragon tore her second born son and his dragon from the sky while chasing the boy across the Stormlands.
And no doubt Rhaenyra will be seeking recourse in the form of vengeance for this grievous turn of events.
Aemond didn't care about any of that, he didn't give a shit what Rhaenyra will say or try to do to him...all Aemond could think about during his return to King's Landing was what the woman he loves will say once she learns of this tragic event. What will Aemma say when she hears that Aemond allowed his anger to consume him and that he killed her stepbrother as a result? Aemond thought about the argument he and Aemma had the night of the family dinner. When she stormed off after the scene Aemond made with his 'Strong' speech and Aemond stopped her, begging forgiveness for letting his temper get the better of him, he recalled what Aemma had said to him:
"...I acknowledge you have every right to be angry at my stepbrothers, Luke especially, but there was no need for any of that. You could've just let it go.
Aemond remembered scoffing at the sentiment; how was one supposed to let go of having a physical piece of you be taken by force? He also remembered how Aemma still stood by her stance that she was the reason why Aemond lost his eye. "Even if that was the case, you were not the one who brought the knife to that fight!" Aemond exclaimed. "If you didn't threaten to kill Luke with Vhagar, if you didn't take Vhagar from Rhaena, maybe it wouldn't have happened at all!" Aemma shouted back.
Thinking back on it now, Aemond wished he had heeded Aemma's advice to let go of the grudge he held against his bastard nephews and not let it consume him. Had he actually listened, Luke would still be alive, and he wouldn't have jeopardized Aemma's love for him.
He prayed to the Seven that Aemma somehow wouldn't find out, but if she did, than perhaps the Maiden or the Mother would move her heart to forgive him and not disavow the love she holds for him... But Aemond knew praying would do no good, not now anyway. He is a kinslayer...and kinslaying is a sin that not even the gods can forgive. Aemond will have to bear that stain on his soul for the rest of his life, nothing could be done to atone for this grievous act.
And once Aemma does hear of this, she will never forgive him; if anything, it very well may drive Aemma away from him into the arms of the Lord of Winterfell...and that alone was more than enough for Aemond to fall into a downward spiral of guilt and self-loathing.
A sudden knock at the door caused Aemond to jolt up, briefly pulling him out of his grim, dark thoughts.
"Go away!" Aemond calls out, not in the mood to be speaking to anyone right now. Apparently whoever was on the other side didn't hear him as his demands were answered with another rap at the door. "I said go away! I don't want to be disturbed!"
"Prince Aemond..." a familiar voice calls out from the other side. "Aemond, it's me, Aemma's mother. Can we talk?" Aemond said nothing, confused as to how the Lady of Larks could be standing at his door at this moment. When did she arrive in the Red Keep? It had to be when Aemond was treating at Storm's End.
Meanwhile, you stood patiently at the door, waiting either for Aemond to open the door and allow you inside, or at least for him to give some kind of permission for you to come in. When Aemond returned from his trip to Storm's End, the prince said not a word to anyone, not even to Aegon who had come to his brother with an air of optimism and expecting that Aemond's negotiations with Borros Baratheon were successful.
Aemond didn't even seem to listen when Alicent informed him of yours and Jaskier's arrival in the Red Keep. All the young man did was storm off to his chambers and shut himself in without so much as an explanation. No one knew what happened or why Aemond was acting like this. The servants had stood at the door, not sure what to do as Aemond had forbid anyone from coming in.
At this point, people were starting to become worried, especially when whispers from the Stormlands began to circulate in the Red Keep of what had transpired outside Storm's End. Rumors having to do with a dragon matching Vhagar's description chasing a smaller dragon and his rider and killing both dragon and rider in the process.
At this point, the only one who could confirm what actually happened was Aemond, and he has yet to come out of his chambers since returning.
You weren't about to get involved initially, as you were only relieved that the dragon and rider that were killed by Vhagar was not Aemma, but Alicent was becoming worried for her son, and Otto was becoming impatient with Aemond's lack of sense to report his mission from Storm's End.
It was Alicent who had urged you to try and coax Aemond out of his isolation. It was clear something had happened over Storm's End and whatever it was, Aemond refused to talk about it. Alicent couldn't reach out to her son, but perhaps you could somehow find a way.
"I know my son," Alicent had said to you, "he's always been a quiet boy, but this is something else entirely. And with the rumors running rampant concerning Storm's End...I don't want to assume the worst of my boy."
You weren't sure what or how you of all people could possibly get Aemond to talk, but you couldn't really turn down a request from the dowager queen. So you stand by the door, having decided to take a diplomatic approach. When Aemond did not respond to your questions, you lean your head against the door, "your mother is worried about you," you point out, "you haven't said a word to her since returning to King's Landing. She wants to make sure you are well, that you...weren't injured from your journey to Storm's End."
You didn't hear anything, aside from the faint sound of footsteps approaching. You see the door open slightly, leaving nothing more than a crack. With nothing more, you take that as your cue to step inside.
The inside of Aemond's chambers was in complete disarray, more so than what you've expected from someone as serious and presumably well-organized as Aemond. But to your surprise you see shattered remains of a valuable looking wine jug on the carpet along with broken plates, cups, and anything else made of glass or clay. There was a red stain on the carpet in the middle of the room, possibly where wine was spilled when the jug was broken. Books and maps were scattered at one side of the room, some of them with bent spines. Various scant decorations were tossed, broken, and everything else in between.
It was more than enough to let you know that Aemond was having a really bad day.
Speaking of Aemond, the prince in question was currently standing by the window, not having said a word since you walked in. You go check on Aemond, seeing his disheveled state, his messy hair, faint tear stains, and the blank stare he had on his face as he looked out the window. You took note that his eye patch was absent, reveling the sapphire that replaced his eye. There was something uneasy about that gaze of his; it was empty, almost akin to a stare you had seen in soldiers in the aftermath of a battle after making their first kill. It was a similar look you had on your face when you killed that Septon the night of your escape from the Red Keep 16 years ago.
This was not a good sign.
"Do...do you want to talk about what happened?" you ask, breaking the silence. Aemond said nothing, but just kept staring, not even making eye contact with you.
What exactly was the prince to say to you of all people? That he killed his nephew? That it was an accident because he lost control of his dragon? You wouldn't understand what that meant. And you being Aemma's mother, what was he to say? That he killed Aemma's stepbrother? That he is kinslayer? And when Aemma eventually learns of this, any chance he had of her being his wife will be long gone. Aemond wasn't too familiar with the various Continental beliefs and customs, but surely the act of murdering one's bloodkin is a social taboo in your part of the world; surely when you learn of the circumstances, you would do everything in your power to keep Aemma away from him, to keep him from being able to call you his Good Mother.
"Talking might help," you press once more, "I...I know it's not healthy to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Believe me, I know that better than most. What exactly happened, Aemond?" Aemond did not turn to face you, but he spoke in a soften tone, "did mother send you?" he asks, almost accusatory, "or was it by my grandsire's command that you were sent to extract whatever information you could from me?"
While you were relieved Aemond was talking, there was something in the change of tone. "Your mother sent me," you tell him the truth, "but with good reason. She's worried about you, as any mother would. And it certainly doesn't help that you remained silent while rumors from Storm's End have been circulating in-" "What rumors?" Aemond finally turned, almost giving you a dangerous look, which took you off guard.
"There are rumors about what happened in the aftermath of you gaining support from House Baratheon," you slowly explain, "that Vhagar-" "That what? That Vhagar decided to ignore her rider in favor of making chase? That she chose to refuse her rider's commands and let her hunting instincts take over in the need to chase what she deemed to be meek prey?" "Uh, no," you simply say, "no one was saying that. You...are the only one who has said that, honey."
Aemond's eye widen in shock, realizing he revealed more than he intended to. He turned his gaze back outside in shame. "Is that what happened?" you press, "Vhagar, she refused to listen to your commands?" Aemond said nothing, but you saw the way he became tight-lipped almost as if he was refusing to answer.
You didn't think it was possible that dragons could refuse commands from their bonded riders, and you wondered if Aemma had similar experiences with Cirillia. But on the other hand, from what you remembered, Vhagar was the oldest and largest of the dragons under the Targaryens' possession; it surely must take a strong will and an iron hand to tame such a beast of her size.
"So you...you didn't want her to kill that little dragon and the rider?" you ask, trying to make sense of what happened back in Storm's End. Aemond once again said nothing. "Aemond, I don't..I can't exactly comprehend what even possessed you to chase a dragon a tenth the size of yours. Seems a little overkill if you ask me...sorry, that was not good wording on my part, I apologize."
Still no answer, so you huff in slight frustration, "fine, don't say anything. Just keep standing there and keep your true emotions bottled up until you implode, for all I care. It will happen eventually, believe me." You were about to turn and leave, but Aemond's soft voice stopped you, "you...you don't know, do you?" he frowns, "the history of this family?" You were confused by that question, "I know the Targaryen dynasty began with Aegon the Conqueror who-" "I meant recent family," Aemond elaborates, slowly approaching you, that same dangerous look in his eye, "Aemma never told you, did she? About what happened during your years apart from her." "I...I know your mother had more children, being you and a younger brother," you tell him, "I know...Aemma's father remarried and had more children. I know your sister Rhaenyra-" "HALF-sister." "Half-sister," you rephrase, "she's had children of her own." "Did your daughter ever tell you what one of them did to me?" He pointed to his sapphire eye for emphasis. The way your eyes widen told him that you didn't know. He also wagered a guess that Aemma never told you of Jace, Luke, and Joffery's true parentage either.
"Rhaenyra had three sons by the late Ser Laenor," Aemond explains, "or so the pretender would insist that everyone believe. But if you ever do get a chance to look at any of the other two, you'll know as everyone else knows that the blood they possess is less Velaryon and more...Strong." You didn't exactly put the pieces together at that moment, but it almost sounded like Aemond was implying that Rhaenyra was not exactly faithful during her marriage to Ser Laenor.
"The one who did this to me was named Lucerys, Rhaenyra's second born son," Aemond continues, "he did this to me that night I claimed Vhagar on Driftmark six years ago. The bastard couldn't handle the truth when I said exactly who and what he was. Aemma will continue to insist she was the reason why my eye was lost, but I know the truth. I know Lucerys brought that knife that night with the intent to kill me, but he failed to do so. Instead, he acquired a debt, one he refused to pay for six years. Until now...until I had Vhagar make him finally pay his debt."
"Are you telling me...that you had your dragon kill your nephew...just because he took your eye when you were children?" "I only meant for it to be an eye for an eye," Aemond admits, tone slowly turning cold, "Had Luke been wise enough to put out his eye to pay for mine, none of this would have happened."
You tilt your head slightly, trying to make sense of what Aemond said. His features had harden like stone at this point, a complete contrast to the man he was when you stepped inside, vulnerable and guilt ridden for the blood he has on his hands. It sounded like Aemond was trying to control the narrative, that he didn't actually lose control, and that he had every intention of killing his bloodkin in an act of vengeance.
But you saw right through the mask Aemond had quickly hid behind. While it wasn't the same, it was a similar mask you had worn yourself when you were struggling with the trauma you endured from your imprisonment on Dragonstone, when you had put up a front of Geralt and the others to let them know you were not damaged or broken from your ordeal.
You knew now that this was nothing more than a front, to not let others see Aemond as weak, weak enough that he couldn't keep his bonded dragon under control, weak enough that he let his emotions get the better of him and acted rashly as a result.
"...I don't believe you," you say bluntly, taking Aemond by surprise, which showed for a brief moment before he slipped his mask back on. "You don't have to," he says, almost sneering, "but that the truth of what happened on Storm's End. You can report that to my mother."
He turned his back on you, but you weren't done. "Aemond-" you attempt to put a hand on his shoulder, but he shoves you back. "Get out," he demands in a warning tone. You don't argue with him, but turn to leave. "What was Aemma's relationship to Lucerys?" you ask as you stand by the door, "what will she say when she hears of this?"
"GET OUT!" Aemond takes a broken clay jug and tosses it at you. You shut the door before it could make contact. You place a hand over your mouth in shock, as that violent action on Aemond's part had triggered a memory of your time in the Red Keep when Daemon returned from the Stepstones. You try to block out that memory, not wanting to think about when Daemon had done similar things when he was angry when you would refuse him, how he would...no, you were not going to go there. You would not let that part of your past consume you again.
Aemond reminded you of Daemon in more ways then either you or even him would care to admit, but it was not his fault that his actions made you feel this way. Aemond didn't know the extent of the damage you've endured...he couldn't be blamed for past harms done to you by others.
You place your hands on your knees and take deep breaths, knowing a panic attack was threatening to overtake you. You look up and verbally list off objects in your periphery in an attempt to ground yourself, a technique you learned from the vampire Regis when he took it upon himself to counsel you through your trauma.
It worked.
Feeling that burden lifted off your shoulders, you stand straight. "Lady Lark?" You practically jump at the sound of Alicent's voice. "Oh, Your Grace," you say with relief, "forgive me for that, you scared me." "I should be asking for forgiveness then," Alicent assures, "...had you garnered any information from Aemond?"
"...I had," you confirm, not sure if you should tell her what you saw...or if you should tell her what Aemond clearly wanted everyone to know. That instead of him killing Lucerys was an accident, he had murdered his nephew in cold blooded revenge. You end up going somewhere in the middle.
"He...he said he killed his nephew Lucerys...because the boy refused to pay the debt that was owed." Alicent placed a hand over her mouth, clearly shocked that her beloved son was capable of something as vile as slaying his own kin, just because he was still sore for something that happened six years ago. "Seven help us all," she murmurs, a stray tear falling from her eye, "...Seven help my son...he is a kinslayer now...nothing will stop this war from happening now..."
--------------------------------
You fast walk to your room, not noticing Jaskier had been trying to get your attention when you walked away.
You hastily close the door behind you, taking deep breaths once more.
This was actually the second time since you've been back to the Red Keep that you were on the precipice of having a full blown panic attack. The first time had been when you first moved into this room after getting settled in. When you initially looked around, you recognized right away it was the exact same chambers you stayed in when you first came to court to be Rhaenyra's personal bard.
The moment you had put those pieces together, the moment you had found yourself staring at the vanity mirror, you flash backed to one particularly unpleasant memory from when Daemon returned from the Stepstones, the day your brother came for you. Through the mirror, you saw yourself fighting off Daemon when he came for you with the intent of having his 'wife' after being away from you for so long, you saw the blood that spilled from his palm when you came at him with your dagger, how unphased he was at the sight before he pushed you onto the bed and violated you. You were quick to back away from the mirror at that time, almost falling over the bed, which sent you hyperventilating as a result.
It was the first time you had to use the grounding technique in years. And today, after your encounter with Aemond, had been your second.
"(y/n)?" your brother knocks on the door before letting himself in, "are you alright? What happened?" "I'm fine...I think...maybe not."
"What happened?" Jaskier takes a step closer, "did...did Aemond do something? What did he say? I swear if that boy-" "Aemond didn't do anything," you quickly assure, "well...not exactly. I...I told Alicent what he told me what happened in Storm's End. Before that he..." "Did he hurt you?" "No," you quickly shake your head, "but what happened after...*sigh*, I may have an...almost panic attack."
Eyes wide, Jaskier goes to pull out the nearest available chair and make it cushion-like before he sat on it. "What are you doing?" "This is what Regis would do when you needed to talk about what you're going through," Jaskier points out, "I know I'm not quite as...well versed in vocabulary as he was, but I still want to help."
Under different circumstances, you would've actually been amused by this gesture, but considering how close you were to having a full blown panic attack- and also given the circumstances of where you were at in this moment- you take a seat on the bed, lay down and tell Jaskier exactly what happened.
"I don't blame Aemond for putting me in that situation," you say, "he doesn't know the extent of what I endured, he couldn't know...but that dangerous look he gave me...it reminded me so much of Daemon."
As angry as Jaskier was about the way Aemond almost hurt you, this wasn't about how he was feeling right now, it was about you and what triggered that panic attack from that interaction. "Well are you going to say it?" you ask. "Say what?" "That you told me so," you huff, "you did warn me not to go on this suicide mission, especially with the possibility that I...that I wouldn't be able to handle it, that...that I wouldn't have those panic attacks." "It was just the one time, we can still work with it." "But it wasn't the first time," you confess, which got your brother's attention right quick. "When...when did the first one happen?" "The first night here. After I was shown to these rooms after...after being away for so long."
You sit up on the bed and approach the nightstand. As you rummage through the drawer, you give Jaskier the details about what happened. "After I got it under control, I found myself here," you say, "and by some miracle...I found this."
You hand Jaskier a simple gold necklace with a silver bird adorned in the center of the chain. "I left that behind," you explain, "the night of our first escape. I uh, I had forgotten about it actually, but somehow it had remained hidden in this nightstand all these years. It wasn't until I discovered it did those...memories come back." "I don't think I've ever seen you wear this one before," your brother points out.
"Because that one was a gift from Daemon," you tell him, which understandably caused Jaskier to drop the necklace. "He gave it to me when we first began our relationship," you explain, "A silver lark attached to a chain of gold. Almost prophetic, with the benefit of hindsight." "I'm a little more surprised you didn't toss this when you found it,"Jaskier admits when he picked up the necklace.
"I tried to," you admit, "I wanted to toss it out. Maybe give it to one of the servants, they could sell it for some money. But I...I couldn't." "It is a beautiful piece of jewelry," Jaskier admits. "It is," you agree, "but...I don't think that's why I kept it."
There was a somber moment of silence before you continued giving your reasoning, "What I had with Daemon...it didn't start off as the nightmare it became. Yes, it wasn't healthy, but...there was something good about it in the beginning. It wasn't love, there was never any love there. But it was fun, and I found a certain...thrill in attempting to tame the dragon. And then it all went to shit the moment he found out about Aemma. I think in some way, when I saw the necklace, I think I kept it because it was my attempt of trying to preserve the good parts of what we had. I think it's my way of trying to make sense of what happened to me, give some kind of purpose so that...the damage I endured wasn't all for nothing."
"You could have found that in your daughter," Jaskier suggests. "I did, I tried," you admit, feeling your eyes grow moist, "When I finally reunited with Aemma and held her in my arms once again, I thought it would be enough. It was the happiest moment of my life when I saw her once again after 16 years. But still when I look at her, even though I can see the woman she has grown into, all I can think about at times is are the years I lost watching her grow into that woman. All those years..." you begin to sniffle, "years that Daemon took from me..." a stray tear escaped, "when he ripped Aemma from my arms."
"Oh, (y/n)..." Jaskier places a comforting hand on your back as you begin to cry, "it's okay, sweet sister, just let it out. "I thought I made my peace with this," you sob, "I already processed what happened to me years ago, why am I still upset about it?"
"Because it was a traumatic experience," was your brother's answer. "So what?" you exasperate, "does that mean that I'll never get over it? That I have to keep dealing with this for the rest of my life?! While HE can move on with his life with no remorse whatsoever?! It's not fair, Julian...it's not fair..."
"You're right..." Jaskier says with a somber tone as he continued to comfort you, "it is not fair..."
-----------The North: Somewhere between Winterfell and the Wall-------------------
The snow was falling harder than was anticipated.
The sky had turned dark grey and Aemma was certain she heard thunder in the distant. The wind was strong and the flurries of snow clouded her far vision. She dared not divert off the path set before her, lest she find herself lost somewhere in the woods. She was not concerned about getting attacked by a wild boar or a pack of wolves, as Cirillia- though grounded at this point due the intensity of the storm- was able to keep up with Aemma on foot, but the princess couldn't afford to take any detours.
Though she did not know when or even if the Wild Hunt have already reached the wall, she had to assume time was of the essence. She had to make haste if she were to have any chance of saving Jace and Cregan from the clutches of the Red Riders.
So Aemma kept moving in one direction, being North. She figures as long as she stays that way, she'll eventually see a 700 ft wall made of ice.
Aemma began to shiver, and she pulled her fur cloak tighter around her to preserve her warmth. How she longed to be back at Winterfell, soaking in a hot bath and then eating a hot meal afterwards.
She kept on the trek a little while longer, but the storm was becoming such that she could barely see two feet in front of her, and the temperature was the rapidly dropping to the point where it was becoming unbearable for Aemma.
The horse she was riding snickered and started to wonder off the road. Aemma tried to pull the horse back on track, but when she looked ahead, she saw a large cave, one big enough for the horse to stay in as well. It was shelter to weather out the storm. Aemma hated the idea of delaying her trek, but the storm was getting worse and it wouldn't do anyone any good if she got lost in the storm and ended up freezing to death. Aemma allows the horse to lead her to the cave. She was quick to dismount and step out to gather firewood, Aemma having to shiver every now and again to preserve what little warmth she had left. Inside the cave, Aemma was having some trouble getting the kindling together and getting the fire started. Lucky for her, Cirillia stuck her neck in and produced a small flame to light the wood. Aemma had an amused smile on her face seeing the way her dragon tried to fit herself inside the cave to absorb the flame's warmth, but she could barely squeeze her front half in.
Aemma began to wonder how far the men were ahead of her. Did Jace and Cregan get caught up in the storm, or had they reached the wall already that it wasn't much of a concern? The princess considered if she could try and reach out with her powers to connect with Vermax, get a sense of where the two were and how close she might be to them, but decided against it; as she didn't know how far Vermax was, and also remembering what happened last time Aemma did this with a dragon she wasn't bonded to, it was best not to risk it.
The horse suddenly began to whinny in irritation. Confused, Aemma goes to calm the horse down. Then Cirillia started to get antsy as well, the she-dragon growling and snarling at something inside the cave. Aemma turned to see who or what it could possibly be. She knew it wasn't Jace as Cirillia wouldn't have reacted the way she was.
Sure enough, Aemma saw some kind of silhouette towards the far side of the cave. Approaching closer, despite Cirillia protesting, Aemma saw a tall elven figure with dark raven hair and dressed in red.
It was Eredin.
Eyes wide, Aemma drew her sword, ready to face the elf, but Eredin spoke in a calm but firm manner, "put that sword away, girl, it won't do you any good." Aemma didn't listen and went to stab Eredin through the gut, but the sword went through him. "Are...are you a ghost?" Aemma's eyes widen.
"Not quite," Eredin tells her, "it's a little difficult to explain in a way you would understand, but for now you may consider this form akin to an apparition. I must give Caranthir credit for this magic trick." Aemma still wasn't happy to see Eredin, and this feeling was mutual in Cirillia who made low warning growls towards Eredin, but the princess lowered her sword, knowing it wouldn't do her much good now; though still uneasy in the Aen Elle's presence, Aemma also surmised that if she couldn't touch him, he wouldn't be able to touch her.
"What do you want?" Aemma asks. "Merely to talk," Eredin answers casually, "I know you have come into contact with Zireael and Avallac'h on two separate occasions. I've no doubt that Avallac'h has...informed you of things that are to come."
"Do you really expect me to disclose whatever conversations I have had with Ciri and Avallac'h?" Aemma tilts her head slightly, "do you think me foolish enough to tell you anything?" "Far from a fool," Eredin assures, "human yes, but not foolish. I don't blame you if you do not trust me, but you cannot trust Avallac'h." "Who says I actually trust him?" Aemma scoffs, "I don't...but I do trust Ciri, and she trusts him for some reason. I know you and your Red Riders are tracking her down because of the Elder Blood she possesses. If you expect me to lure her out of hiding so you can capture and imprison her again, you are sorely mistaken."
Eredin made an amused grin in response, "Imprison Zireael? Me? No, you could not have been more profoundly mistaken, Silverlark. For you see, it was Avallac'h who had every intention of keeping the girl a prisoner in Tir na Lia." "...I don't understand," Aemma frowns a bit, "Ciri and Avallac'h struck a deal. That she would bear the Aen Elle a child to repay a debt and to put the Elder gene back in the possession of your people." "Hmmm, yes that is true," Eredin confirms, "but it was all a lie. Avallac'h had no intention of releasing Cirilla afterwards. I told the girl this, but she refused to believe me. Now the Swallow runs with the Fox to the very edges of time and space, whispering honeyed words in her ear, same words that she no doubt passes onto you."
Aemma was a little taken aback by this. Why was Eredin even telling her any of these things at all? The elf didn't even need to make her distrust Avallac'h then she already had, and she wouldn't exactly be surprised if that even was the case that the sage had no intention of keeping his part of the original deal. She's experienced Avallac'h's arrogance firsthand, especially when he made it clear how he saw Aemma as a mutated perverted version of Ciri- whom he saw as a mutated perverted version of his beloved Lara.
Was this Eredin's attempt at trying to sprinkle doubt into her, specifically, make her doubt exactly who she could trust? Make her question not necessarily her trust in Avallac'h- or lack thereof- but make her doubt Ciri's judgement.
"You're trying to sow seeds of doubt," Aemma accuses, "turn me against Ciri and abandon her and her fight against this White Frost." "Far from it," Eredin assures, standing up and approaching the princess. Aemma stiffened a little when Eredin placed a hand on her shoulder, even he couldn't actually touch her in his apparition form, "I want to destroy the White Frost more than anyone, but I do not believe Avallac'h should be the one to guide Cirilla and yourself on this path." "Oh, but you are better qualified," Aemma huffs sarcastically.
"You have Zireael's gift, flawed and twisted as it may be, but her gift all the same," Eredin explains, "And as I saw in Ciri, I see a rare jewel in you. She is the lady of Space and Time; with the Elder gene, she can create portals that allow her to travel other worlds, worlds that are even part of different dimensions. And though this part of the Elder gene remains dormant inside you, it can still be awakened...and if we succeeded, you can take up the mantle as the Lady of Space and Time."
Aemma averted her gaze from Eredin's intense stare. In contrast to Avallac'h who was more direct about his intentions and his point of view, Eredin seemed to prefer more subtle methods; luring in his prey with his charm and honey-sweet words. It didn't make Aemma fell any less uneasy; she knew how Avallac'h saw her, and she didn't have any indication to suggest Eredin felt any different.
"Is that what you are offering?" Aemma frowns more in confusion, "you..want to unlock this part of my gift? Unlock my full potential?" "It can be done," Eredin assures, "allow us to, and we together we can open portals to other worlds that have not been claimed by the White Frost. We can save the Aen Elle AND humankind from meeting their end to the bitter cold of the Frost. You...and Zireael...together at my side, we can accomplish what Avallac'h cannot."
In that moment, Aemma's gift kicked in, allowing her to look into Eredin's past;
She saw glimpses of Eredin and the Red Rider's encounter with the White Frost, something that scared the elf greatly. Aemma could feel that Eredin's fear of this entity course through her, and she could feel how it almost drove him to total madness after witnessing the extent of the Frost's destruction and what it will someday do to his world and to the Aen Elle.
In another vision, Aemma saw Eredin confronting Ciri, letting her know that Avallac'h had every intention of breaking his promise to her, of keeping her from leaving their world. She then saw Eredin hand Ciri a vial containing some kind of potion, but Ciri pushed it away from her.
In the last vision, Aemma saw king Auberon sitting on his throne. She saw the old elf slump against the throne, his arm dropping down as he breathed his last. The same vial Eredin tried to give Ciri fell from Auberon's lifeless hand. "The king is dead," Eredin's voice reverberated across the throne room as he picked up the vial that was once filled with poison, a wicked grin on his face, "long live the king..."
"So then," present Eredin extends a hand towards Aemma, "join me and I will teach you how to control your gift and help you reach your full potential faster and further than Avallac'h would ever be willing to. Bring Cirilla to our cause and together we can save both our races and stop the White Frost once and for all."
Aemma made an amused smile at that statement, which confused Eredin greatly, "you find this amusing? Do you doubt my word?" "Not at all," Aemma makes a humorless laugh, "I only doubt your sincerity." She looked up to see the elf king take offense, though Eredin was quick to conceal his reaction, "you speak of saving our races from the White Frost, mine being human, and yours being the Aen Elle. But I have seen in my visions exactly what your Red Riders, YOUR people do mine. You come forth from the skies in the aftermath of a battle or what have you. You take survivors from their homes and bring them to yours so as to make them your slaves. You take their names, their freedom, their dignity, and make them serve you in whatever way you wish for the rest of their lives. Only reason I can see you being willing to save humankind at all is to keep subjugating them to your whims."
"You misunderstand, we don't abduct or torment our human servants, we rescued them and gave them highest honor to serve in-" "Was it a high honor with the way you treated my mother?" Aemma challenges, "I saw what you did to her in my visions years ago, I saw the way you interrogated her and the White Wolf, the way you tossed her around like a rag doll when she refused to tell you about me or about Ciri. I thank the gods she does not remember her captivity, and I pray it will remain that way, my mother already has dealt with enough in this world at the hands of my father. I don't trust Avallac'h, but are no better than him...and you're no better than prince Daemon."
Aemma leaned in close, anger in her eyes, "so with all due respect, YOUR MAJESTY, take your bargain and shove it up your arse. You and your Red Riders can burn in the Seven Hells for all I care, I will not join you, nor will I ever persuade Ciri to join you either."
Eredin's features turned dark with anger as a response, "So be it," the elf says in a low, dangerous tone. Aemma turned her back, intending to leave the cave, "it's a shame what happened to the boy, by the way," Eredin speaks, "if only Avallac'h had deigned to tell you...maybe then you would have saved your Prince Lucerys from his fate."
Eyes widen, Aemma turns with the intention of demanding Eredin elaborate on what he meant, but alas, the elf's apparition form was long gone.
Aemma scanned the cave, but she saw that Eredin was nowhere in sight. She frowned, wondering what he meant about Luke. What about Luke's fate? What did Avallac'h know about that?
Aemma ended up brushing that thought away, concluding that Eredin only said those things to make her doubt her decision.
Maybe he said those things to distract her and slow her down, keep her from reaching the wall before the Wild Hunt reached it.
On cue, Cirillia backed out of the cave, making discerning noises as she kept her gaze to the sky. Aemma ran out to investigate. To her relief, the snow had stopped falling, and it looked like the storm was starting to clear somewhat.
Looking up to the sky, Aemma could see various figures materialize from out of nowhere in the form of armored beings astride dark horses as they rode towards the northern direction...towards the wall.
Aemma saw now that the Wild Hunt was not going to invade the wall from up north, but from towards the south, where the Night's Watch would least suspect.
Wasting no time, Aemma ran towards the horse and grabbed what provisions she could before turning said horse back to Winterfell and mounting Cirillia's saddle, who was more than happy to ready for take off at her rider's command.
"Soves, Cirillia!"
Cirillia took to the sky heading North. To Aemma's relief she could see the Wall was within sight.
Now she could only hope she stop the Wild Hunt before they could get the jump on Jace, Cregan, and the men of the Night's Watch.
Chapter 68
#hotd#the witcher#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#oc#alicent hightower#jaskier#eskel#aemond x oc#the Lady of Larks#eredin breacc glas#the wild hunt#the night's watch
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She will go against the norms
So, what if this talk about Love is not what we think it is? We've already seen this parallel between Shouto and Chako that they both try to stop their foils, but what if Ochako will be the first person to actually save a villain?
We've already seen her thinking about Toga in the previous chapters and ever since this fight started, she just wanted to talk things out.
So what if these feelings Froppy was talking about aren't the feelings for Deku but rather about her thoughts on the hero society?
More under the cut.
How heroes are always put on pedestal and seen as the light in shining armour? Aren't heroes also humans?
If a hero is someone who suffers in silence, what do we call someone as dire as you?
And this line hits hard, not because Deku is someone close to Ochako but also because Deku is an image of Heroism for Ochako.
She liked Deku in the first place because she thought he was cool but she immediately figured out that it was wrong. She should be giving her all to achieve her dreams as well.
It's also noticable how it's always someone else (especially Mina) pointing out Ochako likes Deku. And Mina is someone who loves to gossip. She'll see two people taking a walk and say they're on a date.
And just because it's a shonen, we're also made to believe that Ochako is the heroine of the story and her only role is to end up with the Deku.
. Even she wasn't thinking about it until Mina makes it a point.
.
Ochako does not like Deku and the feelings she always felt were just a result of her own insecurity as a hero!
After the war arc, we see that her arc is not just about Deku anymore. She wants to save people, she wants to fight for their smile.
Over the cliff, she was thinking about Toga, how the villain was shedding tears.
She always saw Deku's struggle to be hero because he was always right infront of her.
Before a hero, he is a human and he deserves to be loved, he deserves to rest, he deserves to sit in peace and he deserves to smile, just like anyone and everyone around.
That's what Ochako's arc has always been about...
To humanize Heroes who are seen as nothing but a tool to shut down the so called evil and maintain this temporary peace which is honestly nothing but an illusion...
And to save villains who are victims to the society first.
Throughout the story we've seen Heroes trample people for the collective good of the society.
Hawks killing twice is an example.
Endeavour neglecting Touya is an example.
Aizawa deciding to shut down Kurogiri is an example.
Toga unleashing Sad Man's Parade is an example, of how shutting down people will only cause them to react even further.
And resorting to violence is not an option. Just like everyone, heroes are also people who can make mistakes.
But then Villains are also people. The individuals who were victims first. They reacted because the society failed them.
So, I think Ochako will be the first one to advocate for the villains.
She will be the first one to talk things through with Toga and put a stop to Sad Man's Parade that will be the trigger to the major events from now on.
It will also be iconic because Ochako and Tsuyu were the 2 main people who during the Bakugo retrieval arc stopped everyone from going after Bakugo saying that they will be no more than the villains themselves.
So for them to stand up and protect Toga? Hell yeah!
Thanks for reading!
#uraraka ochako#ochako uraraka#bnha 375#bnha 376#bnha spoilers#bnha manga leaks#bnha manga spoilers#bnha meta#bnha deku#bnha ochako#ochako urakara#ochako#mha uraraka#my hero academia ochako#uravity#bnha uraraka#urakara ochako#himiko toga#mha toga#toga himiko#my hero academia himiko#bnha himiko#bnha toga#togachako#togaocha#bnha#my hero academia uraraka#bakugou x uraraka#bnha manga panels#mha spoilers
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I completed Anne Brontë's Agnes Grey in one day yesterday. I'm in a book hangover, but here are my initial thoughts on the novel, as well as on Anne:
- Anne is an underrated Queen, but I already knew that from The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, her second novel. If only she hadn't died at 29! Agnes Grey was her first foray into novel publishing, and proves how much she developed her talents in the interim between itself and Tenant, which most people would agree is much better.
Yet, for a debut novel, Grey is nevertheless impressive. Her acute observations and descriptions of social experiences are some of the most clear I've ever read, and she was as adept in her satire as Jane Austen. After reading both her novels, Emily's only, and more than one of Charlotte's (Jane, and currently 1/4 through Villette) I can say she's certainly the most moral and progressive Brontë, and maybe even the most socially intelligent. There's a lot of humor in this book, and despite some of the dark themes, it never feels miserable.
Anne was a remarkably resolute woman, which comes through in both her heroines; even when they are oppressed and trapped in the most dire situations, they consciously refuse to adopt a victim mindset, instead trusting in their own strength and resilience. After enduring much suffering, both heroines trust in their faith, focus their energy on creating good lives for themselves, and by doing so achieve happiness in the end.
Anne Brontë's heroines are true examples of female stoics in the original philosophical sense, capable of great empathy and feeling as well as self-control and self-discipline. The Anne Brontë heroine has a quiet confidence about her. She champions moderation and common sense, not because she is boring or easily written off by the misogynistic epithet of "prude," but because she has witnessed true chaos and experienced true misery, and these things have served to make her more calm because she does not internalize them but triumphs over them. She has decided to learn from life's lessons and seek a life of tranquility, simplicity, and faith.
- This novel has everything! We've got the (literally designated) not-so-reformed rake in Sir Thomas Ashby (and what a rakish name that is), we've got some demonic children, we've got a sexy country parson, religious discourse, depictions and poignant criticism of classism, sexism, marriage, animal abuse, etc.
- Mr. Hatfield is basically Mr. Collins from P&P. Matilda rejecting him was golden.
-- The beginning of this novel, summarized: "I can't wait to meet these amazing children I've heard so much about! Gee, I really hope they aren't sociopathic animal torturers! What are the odds, am I right?"
-- No wonder the Brontë's didn't succeed in setting up their own school -- being a governess or teacher was simply horrible back then, as it largely still is today, and I think for the most part some of them simply weren't cut out for the job to begin with -- which is saying nothing bad about them or their abilities. Maybe if they lived today they would have done well as teachers or professors with a little more modern structure and having workers rights, etc...
-- I like the short length of this novel! It goes by very fast, and I read the first 100 pages or so myself very quickly, and the rest in audiobook format, but this is very rare for me. I've become accustomed to the Brontë family "language." I'm glad I didn't start with this novel though; I think it's easier to appreciate Agnes Grey after reading their "greatest hits" (Tenant, Jane, and Heights). It definitely isn't my favorite Brontë novel but then again I don't have a favorite. They each fulfill slightly different functions yet have many overlapping themes, so it's difficult to rank them.
-- I think one of the reasons this novel may not be as popular as it could be is because the first half of the novel is generally bleak and this may cause people to give up. The narrator's life generally improves in the second half of the novel, but still, Grey does not have as much dramatic "umph" as does what I hereby dub the "Brontë Greatest Hits Triad" (Heights/Tenant/Jane) which all will prefer. Still, the novel is worth reading for any Brontë fans as it is good and contains many of the Brontë tropes we all know and love. It also stands as a marked contrast to Anne's second novel The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and makes me appreciate that novel so much better.
#the bronte sisters#currently reading#book thoughts#book opinions#agnes gray#anne bronte#victorian lit#lit#english literature#literature#books#reading
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Hey! Here are some fun notes and details from my Beetlejuice timeloop fanfic, Time is a Flat Circle. I wanted to put these somewhere because most of them won’t be acknowledged in the text.
Chapter one:
- The title of the chapter is a line from the song “The Heroine” by Unwoman, and is very literal in how it applies to Beetlejuice, obviously. He has to go through all of the emotions of the loop over and over again. The rest of the song is about an actress lamenting how she has the sympathies of the audience, but that someone who promised to come see her show never did. I feel like this is prevalent for our rancid little fella!
- There is a few mentions of his right ear in particular; “His constantly swiveling ears irritated his mother to no end. (There was always a faint ringing in his right ear, at the edge of his awareness. The notch in that ear still aches sometimes.)” “… by a flick to his left ear. (He always makes sure to sit with his left side facing Lydia because of this.)” This is referencing an injury he sustained in his younger years due to his mother, which likely will not come up in story. There is a notch in his ear due to it being cut, and he has partial hearing loss on his right side. He tilts his head to both imitate human body language and to better amplify his limited hearing, since he usually doesn’t have his swiveling, pointed ears to help him when he’s fully disguised.
- “His anchoress from another mess” was an idea from one of my dear friends, I do not take credit for this great line
- “A photo album sits on a vanity in the corner, faintly scented with a faux-floral chemical smell that makes Lydia’s eyes get misty whenever she catches the scent.” This is referencing a perfume that belonged to Lydia’s mom that still stick to the photo album. The smell is very faint to humans, but fairly strong to Beetlejuice.
- “If he squinted, Beetlejuice could read ‘New York’, but not much else.” - Beej has a hard time reading, his eyes weren’t built for that. Glasses would help. He also never really took the time to learn how to read modern English. If he could read it, he’d see that it’s a university sweatshirt, which belonged to Lydia’s mom!
- “… that Top Dollar fella’s voice has got me all hot and bothered,” - he is referencing a character played by Michael Wincott, who has a wonderful and hypnotic deep voice. I imagine BJ also has a ‘crush’ on Tony Todd’s character for similar reasons - envy. He would love for his voice to sound like theirs, rather than how raggedy his own is.
- “on a mountain of odd little round plush creatures,” These are a mixture of squishmallows and various strange gothic looking plushies, mostly gifted to Lydia from an aunt who wasn’t sure what else to get her. BJ has obviously never seen a squishmallow before.
- “Excitedly clacking his teeth,” this is one of BJ’s most common stims, as well as mine. It makes an audible noise that can be unsettling.
- “Triangle, Happy Death Day, Palm Springs, Edge of Tomorrow, Coherence, on and on the list went. Even a few episodes of some random shows.” these are all movies (and some TV show episodes) I watched for reference for this fic on time loops. Of course I made Beej suffer through the same homework, lol
Chapter two:
- The title is from “In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)” by David Lynch, which is from the movie Eraserhead! The movie itself is rather dark, and the song comes at a moment that the main character is considering that maybe heaven would be better than his current situation. For Beetlejuice, this pertains to how he is trying to convince himself that this is as close to happy as he’ll get, and that everything is indeed fine, even though it isn’t.
- “it was always delightful to wake with the sun only to choose to roll over and sleep a bit more.” This either comes from that snake part of him or that cat-like part of him, but my guy loves to sunbathe. He cannot see well in sunlight, but he enjoys how it feels!
- “Lydia had grabbed him by the right ear and scolded him. “Give them space, Beej,” she said firmly. “We’re going to have a little chat about boundaries soon, you really- Beetlejuice? What’s wrong?” She had released his ear with an oddly tender look replacing her scowl, her gaze drifting above his eyeline. “Your hair-“” - It’s because of the aforementioned injury and the trauma surrounding it :)
- “Lydia, at the Maitlands’ insistence, would order something somewhat healthy. (Usually Italian.)” Beetlejuice considers pizza healthy. It is likely the closest he gets to eating a vegetable for now.
- “they would order an absurd amount of cookies and, of course, shirk the payment by having one of his clones pretend to be a dead body they were feasting on. Halfway through their large pizza/cookie/cake monstrosity (isn’t human ingenuity a marvel?),” his is a reference to insomnia cookie and their spectacular pizza cookies. I am obsessed.
- “the gothic teen decides that they simply must watch one of her favorite films; Coraline.” like many weird girls (shout out to my sister), Coraline is a comfort movie for Lydia. Aside from the pajama pants, she also has a plush of the cat, a poster, and a replica of the doll from the film.
- “this odd little breather film always made his chest tight and his nerves fraught. He had no clue why.” BJ doesn’t understand, but the movie is triggering to him due to the similarities between the Other Mother and Juno.
- “With a jaunty slide whistle type-noise that he knew would bring an amused smirk to Lydia’s lips, Beetlejuice sprouted a third arm from his side and extended it towards the stairs.” This is a tongue-in-cheek reference to the silly sound effects and visual effects used in the show pertaining to Beetlejuice and extra or disembodied limbs.
- “He also didn’t have any siblings, to his knowledge.” Hm. Interesting!
- “Most loops, his body is still thrumming with a strange electricity that he can’t quite explain. It stems from where she gripped his hands, spreading throughout his whole body. Although he enjoys the contact, most often it’s just too much for any more.” This is overstimulation due to the contact. He likes it, but he is not used to it, so his mind overreacts.
- “The eyeliner really made his golden eyes pop, and the purple lipstick made his grin look even more sinister.” BJ is no makeup expert, so he doesn’t catch that Lydia bases the look she applies on Frank-N-Furter’s makeup.
- I set Rocky Horror Picture Show as a backdrop to Lydia’s coming out as a lesbian (and possibly more) as a sort of fun nod to how pivotal the film was to my own gender identity journey!
- “what brought on this amazin’ revelation? Any lucky ladies in particular catch your fancy?” There were indeed some “lucky ladies” who brought this on, but they are fictional: Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, and Ellen Ripley from Alien!
- “Lydia gasps, stepping away from the clone to inspect it. “He-… it’s you?”” All of the clones use it/its pronouns!
- “He had no say in what his clones looked like, he found, so he had long since stopped trying.” that is not entirely true - he can influence what they look like with a lot of concentration, but our dear demon severely lacks in that department.
- “The clone flutters it’s eyelashes and puts a hand on it’s cheek, waving its other hand in a sort of bashful ‘oh, stop!’ motion.” This is one of the two ways I react to compliments as well. (The other is saying “shut up” then immediately apologizing)
- “A red poncho with a spider-web pattern,” This is, of course, a reference to Lydia’s outfit in the cartoon!
- “a “mermaid style” black dress after a particular television character,” This dress is based on Morticia Addams, obviously
- “a fetching light pink dress covered in little red flowers and finished with a bright pink belt.” this is a nod to her dress in the film!
- “He had no idea why she asked, and similarly not a Scooby-Doo what it meant himself.” This is a silly way of saying “a clue”. More people (in person) are stumped by this than you’d think!
- “As Beetlejuice pulls the good ol’ fashioned midwestern special, slapping his thighs and going “welp” to signal it’s time for him to go,” shout out to my coworker for the phrasing of “good ol’ fashioned midwestern special” when he called me out for doing this.
- “Every part of the second day, especially the latter half, is especially draining to him. He’s not sure why, but he often chooses to blame it on his liberal use of his powers…” It is the use of his powers, but also the physical contact, socialization, and abundance of stimuli.
Chapter three:
- This title is from “Dinner Is Not Over” by Jack Stauber, my favorite musician! It actually promotes suicide prevention. The song talks about having many experiences, including a brush with death. The idea of death is very tempting to the person singing, but he says it’s “for desert” and he can “have it when dinner is done”. (Basically, yes death is tempting, but there’s so much more to your life to experience and look forward to.) It’s a hauntingly beautiful song, while also being uplifting and catchy! The lyric for the title in particular refers to how Beetlejuice’s own constant brushes with death and eternal rest is seeming more and more desirable with each passing loop, but he keeps going for Lydia and the Maitlands.
- “You’re Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth. There’s no fixing that. You were born rotten and broken, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” This is a reference to a scene in BoJack Horseman that hit me really deep. Beatrice, the main character’s mother, tells him, “You were born broken. That's your birthright. ... You're BoJack Horseman. There's no cure for that." I feel like Beatrice and Juno have quite a bit in common, and I wanted to nod to it to help give the reader a better understanding of the demoness in this short scene. She really influences Beetlejuice’s actions, so I think getting a read on her is important.
- “Barbara opens it moments later, all smiles and cheery greetings. It fades very quickly when she realizes who it is, but he often likes to imagine it’s for him.” Barbara thought it was Lydia coming to her senses about the whole situation.
- “Beetlejuice clacks his teeth together out of excitement before he can help it. (He’s probably imagining it, but he swears sometimes he can see Barbara smile then.)” The first hints at Barbara finding him endearing. Most would find the clacking off-putting, but she likes strange men. I cannot judge. My type is weird too.
- “Got a good couple shots of your graves. Real well loved and placed, if you ask me.” This is inspired by Adam talking about how he wishes he could see their graves in the movie.
- “He began to scratch at the counter through his jacket sleeve to, once again, ground himself with the pain.” Another stim taken straight from me. Unfortunately, I absentmindedly scratch harshly at my skin sometimes when very anxious or overstimulated. Sometimes it breaks skin, but it mostly just irritates it. Beej has sharp as fuck claws, so he accidentally does more than break skin much more often.
- “… Beetlejuice flinched as he heard one of the clones hit the ground with a ridiculous ‘splat’ noise. He forced the nonplussed smile back onto his face and ignored the dull ache in his legs. He’d clean it up later.” This will come up later, but BJ feels what his clones feel, just way less intense.
- “Several large, round ‘terracotta’ pots (he had read they were real good for plants) lined the other two edges of the roof.” He got these both because he read they're good for plants and because he knows (well, thinks) Barbara appreciates good pottery.
- “I mean, that you had those little plants in the window of your kitchen,” “Like how he knew Barbara would sing to the plants to help them grow.”, “I, uh… I got a buncha stuff for a ‘salad garden’, since you were trying to start one up before.” These are all references to similar things that Barbara’s original broadway actor, Kerry Butler did in her dressing room! She seems like a real sweetie.
- “Tomatoes, lettuce, peppers, par-… pars-…” Beetlejuice is trying to say parsley, but he’s never heard of that herb before. Unlike Alex Brightman, he does not Know His Herbs.
- ““These are marguerite daisies,” She finally said, soft but just loud enough to stop his endless word vomit.” Daisies represent friendship, joy, and well wishes. BJ didn’t purposefully pick flowers with those meanings, but I did!
- “Who would want to hug a wretched, rotten little beast like him?” The phase “wretched, rotten little beast” is from the Five Nights at Freddy’s movie, which I am obsessed with.
- “She smelled faintly of perfume and blood and the iced tea she drank just before she died.” “Aftershave stung at his nose, followed swiftly by the faint scent of blood, but he found he didn’t mind it too much.” Only Beetlejuice can smell the blood and the iced tea. Everyone can smell the perfume and aftershave.
- “He’d sometimes spend the time rooting through the garage fridge for soda cans, then play a game he called ‘who can knock out the most teeth with an exploding soda can?’ with three of his clones.” This is based on a game I played with my friends once when I was eight. I won. Do not recommend.
- Although he is using her as a segway to get Lydia to talk about her mom, BJ did actually have a beloved pet possum named Rabies. (And he did get rabies.) He found her abandoned by her mother, and she often clung to his back and ate the bugs in his hair. He took great care of her until she died of natural causes. He does genuinely miss her, and kept her skull as a way to remember her.
- “Beetlejuice had to bite back the ugly jealousy bubbling up in his throat. He would’ve loved to have a mother like Emily Deetz, instead of the horrible demoness Juno. Maybe in another lifetime.” This is a cheeky reference to the wonderful fic that inspired me to write LoopJuice, moonbunnyblues’s Lawrence “BJ” Deetz AU! Give it a read, it’s a work of art.
- ““Oh yeah, I’m in my prime, kiddo. This is what a real professional bio-exorcist looks like.” “… if you say so.”” she doesn’t believe him here, but at this point she doesn’t know him well enough to care to ask further questions.
- “Can I touch it?” Lydia was not allowed to touch it.
- “Fuck. He had rolled his sleeve up for dramatic effect. He had completely forgotten about the counter.” He had rolled his sleeves up to make a comment about how he did “all the work around here and got no thanks”.
- “It was astounding to see the array of things you could have brought right to your doorstep. Holy water was one of those things.” I looked this up. You really can order holy water on amazon!
Chapter four:
- This title is from “Deviltown” by Cavetown, specifically V.2 because that is my favorite version. It’s about growing up in a tumultuous home, specifically being a child of divorce. The cyclical and downtrodden nature of the song reflects BJ’s outlook at this point in the story, but the title line specifically refers to how his pain is being lessened by no longer being alone in his suffering.
- “He reminded her of the infuriating type of people that made the couple stop attending those improv classes last year; someone who just didn’t know when to stop, when to turn it off.” This is a cheeky reference to how I view the original film’s Beetlejuice. I will say no more on that subject.
- “Beetlejuice kept his distance, always remaining out of arm’s reach. If anyone besides Lydia got too close, he seemed to find an excuse to sidle away again.” He avoids contact from anyone but his BFFF (and the double thank you hug) at this point because it’s overstimulating.
- “Barbara thinks she remembers him flinching at the screams of terror he claimed to love.” Even his favorite sound is too overstimulating at this point.
- “It honestly reminded her of the times she had seen Adam go through burnout.” I WONDER WHY
- “reaching out to pull the demon waiting on the other side through it by the forearm. Beetlejuice, obviously startled, wrenched his arm away and- did he just hiss at them?” , “desperately grasping at Beetlejuice’s arm and pulling it from Adam’s now limp grasp to check the number again. 91,250. She must have grabbed him too harshly, as the demon sucked in a breath through his teeth and yanked his arm away from her.” They both unknowingly caused immense pain to the scratches around the counter.
- “Now, though, after only a few seconds, he became wheezy, the laughter tapering off into a rather wet sounding coughing fit. Beetlejuice slammed a fist against his chest with a hollow ‘thump’ sound a few times until the coughing subsided.” He is still somewhat recovering from Juno breaking his ribs. He likely will never be fully healed from it.
- “She’d learnt about this method from one of her and Adam’s true crime documentary nights.” Barbara enjoys them, Adam finds them macabre but irresistible.
- “He was holding it with his right hand, but his grip was off, like he wasn’t quite used to using that hand. Maybe he is just really out of practice? What do demons even really need to write?” Beej is left handed, but using his right hand. I wonder why! (He also is just generally out of practice and doesn’t have good handwriting anyways.)
- Beetlejuice struggles with the math because I also had to struggle with the math.
- “Beetlejuice hesitantly nodded, glancing at the door out of the attic before continuing to stare up at Barbara.” He is considering bolting here. He thinks the Maitlands are mad at him.
- “Going through the motions again and again, suffering the heartache and real physical pain.” Another cheeky reference, this time to the title of the first chapter.
- “Eventually, he let out a little growl of frustration. (A literal growl. It reminded Barbara of a small dog trying it’s best to be intimidating.)” I’d describe his growl as between a dog’s and a cat’s. Throaty, not very intimidating unless he really means it. Then it’s more like that of a Rottweiler.
Chapter five:
- This title is from “So Long” by Tokyo Elvis. I can’t find much online about the song, but it has that good cyclical feeling I look for in songs for this fic. This line specifically refers to how Beetlejuice is trying to hold on to the fleeting joy he finds among the routine of the loop, but he can’t hold on to it forever.
- “It would be an understatement to call Adam Maitland a nervous wreck. He was more like a bundle of nerves fumbling around in a bipedal visage of a man.” This is taken from how Overly Sarcastic Productions described H.P. Lovecraft in their video about the nasty man. I thought it was very fitting for Adam!
- “Beetlejuice seemed pretty preoccupied with the task of staring blankly at the ground and cracking all of his fingers one by one over and over again.” Another unsettling stim I share with Beej <3
- “Beetlejuice is quiet at first. His eyes dart from Adam’s to Barbara’s, then to various different spots in the attic. Eventually, he lets out an exasperated sigh, leaning heavily back onto the couch. The navy blue of his hair and suit phases back to the same indigo from before in the blink of an eye. “I don’t have a Scooby-Doo, A-Dog,” he groans. He dramatically rests his left wrist against his forehead. The strange phrasing and sudden change in energy threw Adam off quite a bit. He floundered somewhat, trying to process as the demon continued to speak. “Your guess is as good as mine at this point. Probably even better.”” On goes the mask! He’s totally a great liar. I’m sure this won’t bite him in the ass later.
- “ “Well, it obviously has to do with you, right?” Beetlejuice’s eyes snapped back open to stare him down.” He got real worried that Adam caught on here.
- “summoning other demons,” I wonder if this will come back later!
- “No matter how… persuasive I was, you humans always gave me the boot.” He is too proud to admit he was begging on his knees.
- “Follow the script.” “The… hold on now, ‘the script’? What are you talking about?” Barbara and Adam don’t capitalize the same things as Beej because they don’t categorize things the way he does.
- “The demon put a hand over where his heart would be.” Adam is unaware, but Beej does have a heart! It just doesn’t really work.
- “Beetlejuice held his arms out at his sides in exasperation.” This pose was specifically meant to emulate Mae Borowski from Night in the Woods, since she and Beetlejuice are both “total trash mammals”.
- “Sure it does. And I’m a Tony award winner.” This is, of course, a joke about his original Broadway actor being a Tony award winner. And a way of the text sorta telling Beej that he’s wrong, and his pain does matter.
- “Beetlejuice let out a snarl that actually caused a primal sort of fear to grip at Adam’s psyche.” There’s the Rottweiler growl! Any shows of aggression from a demon causes the human brain to go all “ahhh danger run away”.
- “I’m Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth, I’m a fuckin’ demon … I’m a rotten, irredeemable monster…” Hmmm, I wonder where we heard this from before?
- “… vanished in a puff of green smoke. (The weird little trick actually worked this time.)” This is a reference to Beetlejuice having a malfunctioning smokebomb in the Broadway show.
- “He pretended to be fatally wounded when Lydia chucked an amethyst at his chest…” Amethysts represent sincerity and promote friendship! At least according to my friend who has a million crystals.
- “Beetlejuice scooped Lydia up into his arms bridal style…” Hehe.
And here’s a few fun comments I left on the doc containing the fic for myself:
#beetlejuice#beetlejuice fanfic#beetlejuice the musical#lawrence beetlejuice shoggoth#LoopJuice#adam maitland#barbara maitland#lydia deetz#Time is a Flat Circle#LoopJuice extras
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(unprompted) what are your characters like when they’re sick? (do they pretend they are okay, want to be pampered/taken care of, left alone, do they power through it, get needy, isolate, etc etc.)
unprompted ask / accepting
youji: a total menace. bitches and moans and demands to be treated like royalty.
kusakabe: will stay home and rest but also doesn't want anybody else to take care of him.
gwen: plays it up around miyuki specifically in hopes that miyuki will take care of him.
tatsuru: downplays it & still tries to go to work but others will take one look at him and tell him to stay home.
schönkopf: he seems like the type who doesn't ever get sick to me lmao. (the kopfyang shipper in me likes to imagine that he'll be sulky all day about being made to rest but then acts like a pitiful puppy who is just in So Much Suffering when his beloved admiral pays him a visit)
shimada: his chronic stomach pains aside, will be responsible and rest. unless he has an important match that day, in which case he will go to the match or die trying.
hareluya: can survive a violent fight but a cold will turn him into a baby. throws a tantrum bc he doesn't want to eat porridge and his dad won't let him have ramen.
edogen: mistakes it for hangover at first. tries to power through it, someone else would point out to him that he's sick, and then he'll get some rest. but also i imagine he will be quite whiny about dinner ("don't i deserve the most delicious cut of the meat as a sick person?🥺")
yorihisa: power through it. his job as the miko's guardian comes first. but he'll falter and akane will figure it out and then she'll force him to rest.
morinaga: if we're talking canon, considering the heroine mc is a healer, he'll just see it as an opportunity to spend time with her lmao so he won't fight it.
hypnos: doesn't even notice it because he's too busy sleeping.
shuu: thinks he's being brave and is suffering in silence, actually isn't. the only good thing is that he got monica to attend to him, though she will tease him a lot about how different he's acting than usual.
izark: tries to act tough but noriko will see through it immediately and makes him rest.
mustang: pretends he's ok & still goes to work, fooled everyone but his squad.
hijikata: ignores it, and is pretty good at hiding it (the others would also be too scared to ask unless kondou is around). he will have to drop before he can be convinced to stay put and rest.
takumi: doesn't really realize that he's sluggish bc he's sick and not just bc he's up at 4am, his dad tells him go back to sleep bc he might crash the car trying to do deliveries in that state. (thinking about bunta checking on takumi and takumi calls him tou-chan like he used to in his sleep.....)
neil: tries to hide it, but haro might betray him and tell the others that his temperature is high.
lyle: asks haro to take his temp, if it is high then he'll tell sumeragi that he's taking the day off.
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Among The Stars {One Shot}
For a special day like this it only makes sense to treat myself. If not today then when? Hello, everyone, it’s Doodle back with another story. In celebration of my birthday this week, I decided to do a story with one of my favorite ships. So without further ado here’s one of my newest stories Among The Stars.
Also available on Wattpad
Among The Stars
Misfortune.
In life there are going to be days when misfortune strikes. Sadly, it’s not a once in a lifetime occurrence as there will be several points in life where misfortune will shine onto you and others. There will be days where it seems nothing has gone right. That no matter how hard you try, suddenly you are back right where you started. It’s a natural desire to retreat and not put yourself out there in the fear of getting hurt again. Or shut your away to remain in a comfortable state of misery. However suffering through a bad day should not shape the rest of your life. It should not stop you from living, as there are bound to be brighter days ahead if you push through. Although it does help when there are people who are willing to spread kindness and support as that goes a long way.
Sunlight immersed the sky in orange and golden light as the city of Paris had reached another sunset. Daylight was fleeting as Ladybug crossed the rooftops. A typical sight for the average citizen, so many who saw did not observe the bug’s movements. Each step was gradual and was driven with the utmost caution. Hesitation led the way as if she had been granted the fear of falling. A justified concern after the day that she had.
Once close to home, after hurdling over several chimneys, reassurance was within reach. Ladybug tossed her yoyo wrapping it around the chimney of her bedroom’s balcony for a landing spot. But the moment her feet hit the wooden boards of the balcony. She stumbled forward catching herself with the metal railing in front of her. The bug winced after regaining her balance.
“Tikki, spots off,” the heroine requested.
A ring of red light circled around Ladybug pulling away her costume and reverting her back into civilian clothes. However, instead of her usual clothes the designer wore a pale pink peplum blouse with a square neckline, exaggerated ruffled short sleeves and a shirred back. Underneath the blouse was a black tank top. It was paired with faded wash denim capris and white ankle strap flats. Even her hair strayed away from typical convention today by not being in her usual pigtails.
Rather, her dark hair was pulled back into a low bun. On her shoulder was a pink tote bag with a tiny white polka dot pattern. In the center was Marinette’s trademark flower design logo that has been placed throughout the majority of her work.
A warm breeze fluttered through this approaching Saturday night. Even though the city was far removed from the heels of summer and deep into autumn, today was unseasonably warm. The designer slid off her tote bag placing it onto the ground after pulling out her sketchbook. She opened it, flipping through to the most recent pages that had been worked on.
The state of her sketches, which were ill fitting at best and viciously starched out at worst, saddened her. A sigh was let out lamenting that now she was back right where she started.
Her kwami landed on her shoulder. “Are you going to be okay? I know today haven’t been the best but-“
“I’m fine,” she flashed a bright yet strained smile. “It’s better to look at the bright side, right?”
“That’s the spirit.”
“I mean there’s so much worse that could’ve happened, like on my way home. I could’ve fallen off the roof, got hit by a flying pigeon, lost my yoyo or got struck by lightning. It would match today’s tone…but maybe I shouldn’t tempt fate like this.”
“Maybe it’s not too late. You technically don’t have to be home until a little bit before eleven. Since that’s when your parents come back from their date night. We can still go back to the Trocadèro for some inspiration.”
She could do that. Although after everything that happened today. Little things that felt significant especially compounded together, it gave weight. The type that she didn’t want to drag around the city unless absolutely necessary. At this moment it felt like Marinette did not have that in her, not without a stronger motivation.
“I don’t know about that. After everything that happened today I don’t feel like doing much at the moment,” Marinette admitted. “It might be best if I stayed home. Unless Shadow Moth sends out someone else.”
“That’s fine,” Tikki hugged her cheek. “You did have a rough day. Some downtime is probably the best for you before getting back to work. How about dinner? You haven’t had anything to eat in hours.”
“That sounds good. I think there should be some leftovers from last night’s dinner that I can heat up. I should check on the others and-“
Suddenly a gentle buzz came humming from her tote bag causing the designer to reach inside it after picking up off the ground. She pulled out her phone and looked at the screen for caller id. Her face couldn’t help brighten after seeing the name. It was Luka. The smile now made sense. It was hard for her not to when thinking about her amazing boyfriend.
“It’s Luka,” the designer put the sketchbook on the balcony’s table. “Huh, I wonder why he’s calling?”
Tikki’s eyes widened almost if a thought had just occurred to her. “Wait, didn’t you promise yesterday that you were going to send pictures of your sketches for potential Kitty Section merchandise. Since the band is planning to sell them at their upcoming concert in two weeks.”
“Ugh that’s right,” her smile vanished. “Completely forgot about that part. I only promised that because I thought there would be something to present by now. Since I usually work well under pressure. But I don’t have anything good based on everything that happened today. What should I tell him?”
“There’s always the truth. That’s a good place to start.”
“And what, disappoint him? After everything that happened today or even these past couple of months? I’m not sure if I can handle that,” the designer felt her phone stop buzzing before putting it onto the table. “Not that it matters now he got sent to voicemail. Problem solved. Let’s get something to eat!”
Only one step forward was needed before her kwami zipped ahead of her, blocking the path ahead.
“You could call him back,” she suggested.
“That’s the amazing thing about these phones. It works both ways. Once you tell him everything he will understand.”
“The last thing I want to do is dump all my problems on him,” she told her.
“But that won’t be what you would be doing. Instead you are going to be honest with him. I thought Luka was one of the few people you could talk to about everything in your life including your heroics. Or have I been misreading your entire relationship up to this point?”
“No, you haven’t,” Marinette admittedly sighed. “And Luka is a creative person too. So he would understand better than anyone about the sudden creator’s block that I have been going through.”
“Exactly, besides if you can’t be honest with him about the small things. What’s going to happen if you know some life changing information that he should know. Would you be willing to hide that from him too?”
“Of course not.”
“Good, knowing your track record of leaving things unresolved hasn’t worked out in your favor. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh but the last thing I want is for things to get worse for you.”
Her track record, the long list of events that had blown up in her face on both sides of her life. There were enough stones that were thrown at her, including the ones from today that could build a small city. That was the last thing she ever wanted with Luka. She had enough battles in life to be allowed to have some things remain feeling like a dream.
The designer picked up her phone. “You’re right, you know you can be very convincing.”
She tapped the missed call notification letting the phone redial. After a few seconds the phone connected to the other line leading Marinette to press it to her ear.
“Marinette?” the musician answered.
“Hi Luka,” she sheepishly grinned before leaning over the railing. “Sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier.”
“It’s alright, I was about to send you a text. But I’m glad to hear from you instead.”
“Likewise, so is everything okay?”
“Yeah, better than usual actually. What about you?”
“It’s a long story. But consider the only highlight of my day is you calling and it’s already sunset so that should give you a hint. It hasn’t been the greatest.”
“Well, if you want you can come over to Liberty and tell me all about it.”
“A change of scenery doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Neither does spending time with you.”
“The weather has been pretty great today and I think it’s going to carry over into the night. We could stay above deck and do some star gazing.”
“So is this a date?”
“Only if you say yes. I know it’s kinda last minute but a few things just happened to fall into place. I couldn’t really plan it out ahead of time.”
“You’re starting to sound a little cryptic. Is there something that I should know or be surprised about?” the designer mischievously grinned.
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Luka has had a history of doing romantic surprises in the past. She could easily pick up the signs to the point the question wasn’t if there’s a surprise but instead what it was.
“There’s only one way to find out,” the musician answered. “So, will I be seeing you soon? If it’s truly short notice then I’ll understand.”
“It’s no problem, actually I have been feeling off lately. So the idea of coming over to see you is already making me feel better. So I can come over to Liberty.”
“Great, you haven’t had dinner yet, right?”
“No not yet. Wait…should that be taken as a hint?”
“You just have to wait and see. I’ll see you soon.”
“Alright, can’t wait.”
The moment the phone call ended her features blossomed with pure bliss. Completely enchanted, she giddily whirled around meeting face to face with her kwami.
Marinette spoke completely enamored. “You were right, it was a good thing that I returned Luka’s call. He wants me to come over to Liberty and there seems to be some kind of surprise. Maybe dinner? My luck is finally changing.”
However she noticed that Tikki was not matching her enthusiasm. Her arms were crossed and a disappointed glare was visible.
“What?” she asked.
“You didn’t tell him about the sketches,” the kwami told her.
“Right, the sketches…well I figured that I didn’t needed to-“
“But you said you were.”
“Over the phone. I figured since I’m going to see him soon I can do it there. I promise.”
“Alright.”
The designer could already sense the doubtfulness in Tikki’s voice causing her to pick up the sketchbook off the table. “I will. Remember I have been more of a visual person anyway when it comes to this stuff. So let’s go downstairs as I want to check on the others and get something from the bakery before we go.”
The night overtook Paris like a stage curtain, slowly and with grace. By the time that Marinette arrived at The Seine River the sky was bejeweled with stars. All of them glittering like diamonds. On her shoulder was the tote bag that held her sketchbook. A large white plastic bag was hanging off her wrist. The docks appeared to be vacant with people giving a peaceful feeling. Only a couple steps left of a route that had been taken many times before. Although if there was the off chance the designer had gotten lost she could’ve let the gentle sounding guitar music she heard lead the way. Once at the end of the dock that’s when she saw him on Liberty.
Luka.
He was sitting above deck in an orange folding chair. Laid across his lap was the acoustic guitar that he had just finished playing on. The moment that he looked up the designer started clapping.
“Amazing!” she continued to applaud. “Encore! Encore!”
The musician looked up and smiled. “I wasn’t expecting to have an audience so soon.”
Marinette grinned while Luka stood up and put his guitar on the beach chair. “Well what can I say, someone special gave me some motivation to come out tonight. So what were you playing? It sounds great.”
“You like it?” he approached the side of the boat with the walkway offering her a hand to help her on.
“Definitely,” she took his hand. “It’s really sweet sounding, is it a love song?”
“Maybe,” Luka replied while guiding her onto the boat. “Nothing is set in stone yet. It’s the instrumental for a Kitty Section song that I’ve been working on. Rose is supposed to come over tomorrow to work on the lyrics with me.”
“Well from what I heard you have a good start.”
“I’m happy to hear, if things are done in time we might be able to play it at the concert in two weeks.”
A pang of guilt had struck, leading her to attempt to subside that feeling. “So is there a reason why you invited me here? Like I don’t know, a possible surprise?”
The musician laughed. “You know it’s really hard to hide something from someone as astute as you.”
As she got off the walkway Marinette looked around. The stage is what caught her eye. All the usual instruments and sound equipment were gone. In its place was a blue blanket spread across the stage. The perimeter of the stage was lined with lit battery operated star shaped LED lights giving an heavenly glow.
“Is that for us?” she pointed forward.
“It is,” he replied. “I figured we could have dinner here so we can look at the stars.”
“So there is dinner. What brought this on, it’s not just the warm weather right?”
“Actually something happened at work. The pizza shop had a large order for pick up but whoever ordered it never came. My boss, Mr. Salvador, wasn’t sure if it was a prank or what. But he didn’t want it all to go to waste so he gave it all to me when my shift ended. The food is still good, it just wasn’t at the restaurant’s hot and ready standards as time passed. But I reheated it all in Liberty’s oven so it should be fine. I figured with this good luck, it would be best to share it with someone.”
“So you called me?”
“You were the first person that I thought of.”
The designer couldn’t help herself from blushing and to think that she had considered missing this.
“Well I’m grateful that I was the one you called,” she told him.
“Was there any doubt?” he reassured her before noticing the bag hanging off her wrist. “But it seems that I’m not the only one with a surprise.”
“Correct, I decided to take that hint about dinner seriously and brought some dessert from the bakery,” Marinette walked towards the nearby spool table. She placed the bag down revealing a white bakery box. The musician trailed behind her. “Even if I was wrong my parents always stressed that if you were invited over for something special it’s best not to come empty handed. Unless the host never said otherwise and you never did.”
“What did you bring? Those strawberry shortcake macarons you brought a few weeks back me, my mom and Juleka couldn’t get enough of. Between the three of us that box was finished in less than two days.”
“This time I brought something a little more decadent,” she lifted up the box’s lid.
It revealed eight tartlets with a velvety rich chocolate filling topped with glossy strawberry slices and a chocolate drizzle on each tart.
“And if I remembered correctly it’s one of your favorite desserts,” the designer continued.
“You did,” Luka wrapped his arms around her. “This perfect as the only thing that wasn’t on the order was desert. But like usual you had just what I needed.”
“The same can be said about you. Remember, I was in the worst mood when you called. By the way, I meant to ask, are you the only one onboard?”
“Yep, Jules is on a movie date with Rose and is planning to get ice cream afterwards. She won’t be back for a while. And my mom is meeting up with some of her old band mates from lycée so she won’t be back until late.”
“So it’s just us?”
“It’s just going to be us. But thanks for bringing those tarts. It’s a step up from the box of chocolates I planned to bring up from the kitchen.”
There was a sudden rustling from Marinette’s tote bag leading Tikki to poke her head asking the couple. “Did someone say chocolates?”
The designer’s eyes widened while the musician let out a chuckle. “It’s nice to see you again, Tikki.”
“It’s good to see you too, Luka,” she gave him the sweetest of smiles. “Essentially since your girlfriend has so much to tell you.”
“You do?” he turned back to Marinette.
“Oh it’s just a few things,” the designer reassured him before narrowing her eyes at Tikki. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”
The heroine and her kwami glared at each other for a few seconds. The musician must’ve sensed the escalating tension as the next thing he suggested.
“How about we go below deck? Since that is where all the food is, there’s a lot of it.”
The glares seem to break after sharing a look of agreement appearing to be on the same wavelength once again.
The three of them went below deck with Luka bringing down his guitar. While Marinette put her tote bag on the stage. It turned out that he wasn’t lying about the amount of food. On the kitchen’s counters were a large aluminum tray of baked chicken Alfredo, a box of cheese breadsticks, a black plastic bowl of green salad, a small tray of barbecue chicken wings and two large pepperoni pizzas. Along with a plastic pitcher of homemade lemonade and lemon slices. All of it looked delicious as Marinette felt ravenous not realizing how hungry she was until seeing the options. The musician pulled out a bag of paper plates so they could fix a plate for themselves. The designer put together a plate with chicken Alfredo, the green salad and two cheese breadsticks. It seemed less likely to leave a stain. Since she was still on the edge of caution.
Meanwhile Luka picked two slices of pizza and two cheese breadsticks. He even offered his tablet to Tikki to watch a movie on one of the household streaming accounts. Along with receiving the aforementioned box of chocolates and picking a nostalgic romcom the kwami seemed content.
It was decided that it was best for her stay below deck. To keep her from getting caught by Luka’s family. It would also give the couple privacy but wouldn’t be too far away if Shadow Moth had the audacity to start up something. Both Marinette and Luka went back upstairs carrying their plates. The musician carried the pitcher of lemonade while the designer brought up a plastic bag packed with disposable cups, a bottle of hand sanitizer and a pack of paper utensils to use. After putting down everything including her tote bag at the edge of the stage. Marinette brought over the box of tarts to the stage. Once sitting down she couldn’t help but peek at the stars.
The glittering jewels of the sky, suddenly it gave her the feeling of tranquility. When she looked back down Luka’s hand was stretched out offering a cup of lemonade.
“Thanks,” she took the cup before taking a sip.
“You’re welcome,” he told her. “So there was something you needed to tell me?”
“Just a few things,” the designer put down her cup. “Don’t tell me what Tikki said has been on your mind.”
“Well, I would be lying to say that my empathy bells haven’t been clanging since she had said that,” he admitted before taking a bite from one of his breadsticks.
“But you did say on the phone that today was a long story. Usually that doesn’t mean things went well.”
“You’re right, but I didn’t want to immediately dampen the mood here,” she scooped up a forkful of her pasta before taking a bite, it was rich with mozzarella and parmesan.
“That’s pretty hard for you to do since you brighten up Liberty every time with your presence,” Luka reassured her.
Her cheeks couldn’t help but turn a light shade of rosy red. “Come on, be serious.”
“I stand by it,” the musician finished his breadstick. “You know there’s not much that you could do or say would ever change the way I think of you.”
The look in his eyes made her question the hesitancy in her mind. He was one of few people she could be completely open with. It being one of the million reasons why she loved him.
“Alright,” she said. “But I don’t want us to talk about only me here. We could…do a trade off.”
“A trade off?” he asked back.
“We can go back and forth recounting our days. Depending on what you say it could undercut my series of unfortunate events.”
“That just sounds more like a conversation. But if you insist, you can go first.”
“What? Why do I have to go first?”
“It’s because I asked you first,” the musician explained before biting into one of his slices of pizza.
“But I asked you second,” Marinette insisted before realizing how silly that sounded. “Fine, I guess it’s best to start at the beginning which technically was late last night before going to bed after finishing babysitting Manon. During the last hour I let her play games on my phone. She drained what was left of the battery. When I tried to charge it apparently the cord didn’t get stuck all the way in so it died, making me miss my alarm.”
“I hate when that happens,” Luka sympathized.
“Don’t we all? It’s your turn.”
“It’s not much. I was able to wake up early and finished the instrumental that you heard. Your turn.”
“Well, today wasn’t the best day for me to sleep in as I had a shift at the bakery this morning and had plans to do some design work. I was woken up by my mom calling me from the living room. She wasn’t happy to see me come down in my pajamas.”
“What did she say?”
“She wasn’t happy but was a little more understanding after telling her about the alarm. I was told to hop in the shower, brush my teeth, get dressed and have a quick breakfast asap. Since I was supposed to be behind the register. But that was awful in itself. What about you?”
“After finishing my music since it was still early I hopped on my bike and went to the post office to check the family’s P.O Box. Technically it was Jules’ turn but she was still asleep and I had been waiting for something anyway. So I didn’t mind. But what happened at the register? Did it malfunction?”
“I wished,” the designer sighed after taking another bite of her pasta. “That would be way less frustrating. A man tried to argue with me because he didn’t want full price for what he was getting.”
“Why?” the musician finished the crust of his pizza.
“He said that they’re another bakery a few blocks away that sold macarons at a cheaper price and we should’ve matched that.”
“Well if those macarons were a better deal then why didn’t he go there?”
“Exactly, I wanted to say that but I still needed to be in customer service mode. So, I told him that our prices for same day desserts were set. The man started to yell at me. I think he was trying to intimidate me because he said that I shouldn’t talk to adults that way. He says he’s an adult but I had seen Manon act better hearing no and she was still in the single digits.”
“I know how that feels dealing with awful customers. Did I ever tell you about my first day delivering pizza?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“It was my first day working at the pizza place. I was pumped because this way I could get some extra cash to work on my instruments besides doing chores. Mr. Salvador is actually a friend of my mom’s, that’s how I got the job. I delivered my first pizza to this older lady in an apartment building. She seemed friendly, greeting me at the door and making small talk. But there’s a reason why first impressions aren’t always everything.”
“What happened?”
“I handed her the pizza and she said that she needed to grab her purse. The next thing I knew the door was slammed in my face and the locks were clicking.”
“Oh no.”
“Yep, I was dealing with a scammer on my first day, some luck huh? I tried knocking on the door asking for the money. Mainly because I didn’t believe that someone would do that. But she said back “Come on Kiddo, you have to be smarter than that.” That’s when I realized it was happening. I still had two other orders in the same building. And didn’t want their food to get cold because of her so I had to leave but came back. When I knocked again she yelled if it was the pizza boy she was calling the police for harassment. That freaked me out since I didn’t want to get police involved on my first day. So I ended up leaving empty handed.”
“I’m so sorry that happened, Luka. I hope that awful lady got blacklisted for the restaurant.”
“She did, after I told Mr. Salvador what happened. He decided to cut me slack since it was my first day. But if it happened again the order would come out of any future paychecks. I was told not to hand over the food until the money is in hand if they’re paying with cash. If they refuse then leave with the food as either they didn’t plan to pay in the first place or their stubbornness is more than the food they ordered. Since some people are just determined to get something for nothing.”
“My parents often say the same thing. But I guess don’t stay in business this long if you let people take advantage of you. But here’s the kicker: guess what the guy was buying six boxes of?”
“Umm…the strawberry shortcake macarons?”
“Close, it was strawberry flavored. It was the Ladybug and Chat Noir themed macarons we started to sell months ago.”
“Really?” Luka shook his head. “It’s so ironic it’s kinda funny.”
“I know right. After the yelling my dad came from the back and I told him what happened,” Marinette started nibbling on her breadstick. “He gave the man an ultimatum to either pay full price or leave empty handed. The man got defensive saying that the cookies were for his niece’s birthday party and were the only bakery who sell Ladybug and Chat Noir macarons in the area. But my dad remained firm. Begrudgingly, the man pulled out his wallet and paid.”
“At least things didn’t escalate.”
“I know, I half expected him to return as an akuma. But luckily that didn’t happen. So you said that you were looking forward to something in the mail?”
“Yeah, it was a DIY violin kit that I ordered a month ago. It finally came after calling the manufacturer’s helpline a couple times since the package kept getting delayed for delivery.”
“Wait, did something happen to your violin?”
“Mine is fine, I just missed working on one. I found this kit online that I wanted to try. I’m actually considering donating it to Melodies Music Shop when I’m done.”
“Really? I figured that a music shop would have enough violins.”
“They do, for sale. But the music shop also does music lessons and they have a select number of violins for rent each year. Based on what my friend Aaron says who works there. Since it’s a small local business it’s on a first come first serve basis. This means only a limited number of students can attend if they can’t afford their own violin. If they can’t and the other ones are already rented someone misses out. If this kit is good, I could donate the violin to the music shop. It probably won’t change the static quo but at least there’s another chance added for someone who wants to learn.”
“You’re amazing wanting to help out like that,” she intertwined her fingers with his. “That’s probably one of the sweetest things ever heard.”
“It’s only an idea at this point. I still got to see if this kit is worth anything,” he said. “I figured it would be best to pay it forward as music helped me through some dark times. It only made sense to help give that opportunity to someone else myself.”
“That’s still one of the sweetest things that I had heard. I stand by what I said.”
This time Luka blushed. “Well it’s your turn. Or was that rude customer the worst of it?”
“Oh no, we’re just getting started,” the designer rested her head on his shoulder. “I said this was a series of unfortunate events, remember?”
They continued to trade off swapping stories about the rest of their days while finishing up their dinner. The designer had listed more less than stellar events which included mistakenly spilling a tray of cream puffs for the display window after avoiding two kids who had run into the bakery. Accidentally burning the replacement cream puffs and knocking over the filling she was working on. This led to her parents suggesting ending her shift early to ease her stress. A pen ended up leaking on her clothes forcing her to change into the outfit she is currently wearing.
After those events it led her to Trocadèro to do some sketching. Although, after switching from her usual purse to her tote bag to protect her sketchbook. She forgot to bring her wallet, meaning there was no money for lunch like planned. Marinette ended up snacking on two of Tikki’s chocolate chip cookies. Meanwhile Luka talked about his delivery route which included running into a former classmate named Anthony who invited him to an upcoming party he was hosting in a couple weeks. He was granted a plus one which the role would be filled by Marinette.
Admittedly, the designer couldn’t help but cringe through some of the recounts. It still felt nice venting. Once their stories started to wind down, the couple sat on the blanket looking at the stars. Overall it felt warm and comforting with his arms around her. Her head rested against his chest hearing his heartbeat. It almost felt like her troubles had finally vanished.
Almost.
“So you went to the Trocadèro, were you able to do some sketching?” Luka asked.
“Just for a little bit. I had a few ideas but the next thing I knew my phone went off because there was an akuma attack,” she answered.
“I did see some ladybugs flying around.”
“Yep, I mostly had to fight alone because it was hard to leave and get any of the other heroes. It seemed any moment I tried a civilian was suddenly pulled into danger. Not only that, Chat Noir took a long time to arrive. He apologized later saying it took a while to find a moment to sneak out and transform. I can’t blame him because I’ve been in that situation before. But I had a hard time holding my own today. By the time Chat came around Durand Avenue half the signs and buildings were slashed.”
“Wait, Durand Avenue? When was this exactly?”
“I don’t know, after maybe around three thirty. Why?”
“I think I was around there on my delivery route. If only I knew I would’ve helped you. But I’m surprised, I didn’t hear anything since those fights aren’t usually quiet. Remember when we fought Bass Master last week.”
“How could I forget? I had a massive headache and my ears were ringing before using the cure. It probably would’ve been worse if you didn’t suggest getting Carapace.”
“It mainly was because he kept turning up the volume on his speakers, shattering the windows of the building surrounding you and Chat Noir even after using second chance several times. It made sense to bring in someone who could trap in the vibrations and I knew I couldn’t do it myself.”
“It was a great idea, but don’t beat yourself up about today. You wouldn’t have noticed him unless he was right in your face. It was The Mime.”
“Mylène’s dad?”
“Good to know that the villains database that I made is being put into good use. It was him. He had an argument with one of his costars in a recent show he’s in. That aggression apparently had to go somewhere like the fire hydrant on Durand Avenue, the stop sign and the superhero trying to stop him from breaking the shoe store window. You get the idea.”
“Sadly, I do but that’s why I wished I could’ve helped. Depending on how far I was some orders might’ve needed to be put on the back burner. But you will always be more important than a few complaints for a part time job-“
Before the musician could finish that sentence she gave him a peck on the cheek.
He turned back to her smiling. “What was that for?”
“It was really sweet what you said, risking all that for me,” the designer started before her face looked more solemn. “But at the same time I’m glad that you didn’t. With the kind of luck that I was having today, if I had lost you. I don’t know how I would live with myself. Especially since I was the one who brought you into all this.”
Luka hugged her tighter. “Hey, it didn’t happen so you don’t have to worry about that. Besides, if anything did happen I would never blame you. I made the decision to be a hero before I knew who you were. I trust you to pull through to make things right.”
“I would but that doesn’t mean that I want to see it either.”
“I could say the same thing about you. But it’s something I have pushed past by helping out as much as I can. Besides, I think your luck is changing.”
“Really? You think so?”
“Nothing bad has happened since you have been here. Isn’t it a good sign?”
Marinette guiltily looked sideways as her eyes fell onto her tote bag. It seems to be the case. But maybe it is because she hasn’t pulled the trigger. On a window of time that appears to get smaller and smaller by the second.
She pulled away from their embrace. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Huh?” he questioned as the designer stood up grabbing her tote bag and pulled out her sketchbook.
“I have been meaning to tell you,” she returned, sitting beside him. The designer flipped open her sketchbook to the half finished and scribbled out sketches before hanging her head. “I couldn’t finish the sketches today like I promised. With everything that happened today and along with the sudden development of creator’s block there is nothing good to show you. I’m so sorry.”
She assumed his facial expression to change from his friendly loving demeanor, and stray away from it. But to her surprise it instead remained exactly the same.
“Oh you just need more time? You actually had me worried for a second,” he let out a sigh of relief. “That’s fine, can you hand me the tarts, please?”
“Uh…” the designer blinked a few times, almost as if she was processing his response. Before reaching over and handing him the box. “Sure, so you’re not mad?”
“No, why would I? Now if this was the day of the concert that would be a different story,” he opened the box pulling out a tartlet before taking a bite. “By then the band and I would’ve asked you about it multiple times. But two weeks before there’s no reason to get mad especially when you told me the truth. Is that the only thing you wanted to tell me?”
“Yeah, it was. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“Hey, if you need more time, take it. I didn’t ask you to do the merch to add stress. You did an amazing job with our costumes and seemed to enjoy it. What did you expect to happen when you told me? That I would throw you overboard or something?”
“Well…no but-“
“Okay was that supposed to be a joke,” he put the box down after finishing the tart. “Now I’m more concerned that you were hesitant about being honest with me. Did you want me to get mad at you?”
“Of course not, it’s just…I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t want to disappoint you. Especially after all that happened today. Neither did it seem right to keep it from you either.”
“I can get that from what you told me the spotlight really shined on you today.”
“The what?”
“The spotlight of misfortune. It’s something that my mom would say if Jules or I were having a bad day. When there’s a constant stream of bad luck that seems to only single you out like a spotlight and it stays on you for a while.”
“If that’s the case it seems that the spotlight has been a recurring thing on me these past couple months. Maybe that’s why I was so worried about this. I always have these expectations so I can’t slip up or fail. If I do, bad things happen and people get hurt. Remember what I told you about my first day as Ladybug with Stone Heart.”
“I remember.”
“I didn’t do the purification and Paris was under the threat of an army,” she recounted while pulling her knees to her chest. “I let my emotions get the best of me the day Heart Hunter attacked and that had me lead Shadow Moth to Master Fu. It feels like I can’t fail, if I do other people pay the price for it or I lose someone important.”
“If it’s too much I can talk to the others about dropping the merchandise idea or pushing it back to another show.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s just I guess…this is the first time in our relationship that I haven’t been able to follow through somehow. Along with all the other bad things that happened today. I just… was afraid history would somehow repeat itself.”
The musician’s eyes widened at the revelation that had just hit him. “You know they’re another part of that saying my mom has.”
“What was that?”
“It was that the spotlight doesn’t shine on you for long. And even if it does that, the best thing to do is to push through with life. One time she told me that it’s okay to be sad. Life didn’t go your way today. But if you lock yourself on this boat like a prisoner. You’ll miss out on all the best things of life which include the risks that come along with it. There won’t be rainbows without some rain and sometimes laughter comes after a little pain.”
“That rhymes.”
“We are a family of musicians. She also told me not to mope for longer than a week or Liberty would come alive and have to teach me a lesson since she doesn’t like sad kids.”
“Wait, no way your mom said that,” Marinette giggled.
“Yep, that’s how she justifies the creeks we hear at night. Also after Captain Hardrock my mom told us it gives what she’s been saying merit,” he wrapped his arm around her. “But between you and me I think she just took that from the story books she read us as kids to have a break from the sea shanties.”
“Sea shanties?”
“Yeah I know a couple of the classics like the back of my hand. But getting back on topic you shouldn’t worry about telling me the truth about stuff like this. I’m not with you because of what you can do for me. I’m with you because of the amazing person that you are. And if I ever made you feel that way-“
“Actually, you’re one of the few people that haven’t,” she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I put all my baggage from these couple months ago on you. You don’t deserve that.”
“But I can understand it, there is so much that is expected of you as Ladybug. Just to keep this city afloat you often put your life on hold. I know how hard it is to be a hero and I don’t have to do it everyday like you. So I can understand being stressed since I’ve been in some of the battles. I had been amazed that we had come out alive in some situations. You’re a lot stronger than most people would be in your shoes. But that doesn’t mean you are not allowed to have a moment of doubt.”
“I really think I really needed to hear that. There’s been days that I’ve been wondering if it’s all worth it being Ladybug. And days like this don’t help. But it’s nice to hear that once in a while.”
“It is worth it but it’s okay to feel the way you do. But you always have kept going no matter what’s been through. That’s pretty admirable, you made it this far, why stop now?”
“You’re right,” she looked at the sketchbook at her feet. “But I just wished I could get over this creator’s block.”
“If you want I could try to help you.”
“Really, are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll admit I don’t have the same knowledge about fashion as you. But since I’m technically one of your customers. It wouldn’t be weird for me to have a say. Also I know what it’s like to create something out of nothing.”
“True at the bakery when someone makes a cake order my parents usually talk to the customers and contribute their input on the favor and design. Besides I had hit a wall so I’m willing to take any help.”
The designer picked up her sketchbook and opened to the most recent pages. She also pulled a pencil from her bag.
“So what do you have so far?” Luka questioned.
“I’ve been playing around mostly with headwear going back to my roots with the bowler hat competition I did last year,” she explained. “Usually my ideas often appear as a finished product. But none of them give me that feeling. You know when you seem to fall in love with your creation.”
“I know what you’re talking about. Usually after you get stuck with some inspiration.”
“Exactly, but none I put together is giving that,” Marinette showed him the half finished sketches that consisted of baseball caps with cat ears, masks redesigns of the band costumes and push kitten dolls. “I really tried to lean into the cat theme but also wanted to make something trendy to help the band’s name spread. But most of the ideas I came up with would be too time consuming to make in two weeks or too expensive to make more than one. Maybe I’m overthinking this? What do you think?”
“Usually what I do when I’m struck is write down possible ideas and pick my favorite ideas from the bunch. How about you do that?”
“I do like the cat theme since there’s so much you can do with that. Also the colors and designs from the masks.”
“So circle that.”
The designer did what he said, circling the cat ears from the hat, plush kittens and the designs for the masks.
“After that I often refer to my previous work to help build up something. My dad does this too. A lot of his songs share the same exact guitar riffs.”
“They do?”
“Definitely, I didn’t notice it at first when listening to his music but once I did it’s hard not to. One time I asked him about it and he said it helped build a signature sound. He’s been doing that for years. It’s in his recent album Rock Giant mainly in the songs Aftershock and Sunlight City. It’s probably better to explain if I show you.”
He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and went to his music library playing the beginning of one song that she knew the rock song Aftershock that had a schism guitar riff. Before playing the last couple seconds the song Sunlight City had the exact same guitar riff.
“I never realized that and I have listened to that album about thirty times,” she sounded amazed.
“Yeah, after learning stuff about the creative side of the music industry you start to see methods used. So how about you try it? Is there anything from your previous work you think that you would work?”
“Umm…” Marinette started to flip through the pages of her sketches before stopping at a certain page which caused her eyes to light up. “This is it!”
She showed him a page that had a finished sketch of a spotted headband with long bug antennas.
“A bug headband?” the musician asked.
“No, well I mean yes but also no,” Marinette explained. “I worked on this a couple months ago as a gift for Manon’s birthday but scrapped it after she told me she wanted a ladybug costume instead. So you may see a bug headband while I see…”
She started to sketch on the empty space on the page after two minutes she flipped the book back handing it to him. “The base for the band’s trademark merch.”
On the page was a cat ear headband. The ears each had double lighting bolts symbols and star designs similar to Luka’s costume.
“It’s more of a concept sketch but what do you think?”
“I like it, there were a few girls in my class who wore them because the pop star Fallon Bernard was seen wearing them during one of her livestreams.”
“Exactly, they have always been pretty trendy and if anyone who should use them is the band that has kitty in their name.”
“What are the lighting bolts and stars for?”
“It’s from your costume. I figured one way we could sell them in support of the band members. For example if someone really likes Rose they can come over and buy a headband with her mask design. It would also help them stand out from the other headbands out there.”
“You know we could have some personal ones for the band. It could be something we wear the day before the concert at school. Just like how sport teams wear their jerseys on game day in some places. It would be free advertising when people ask why we’re wearing them.”
Marinette squealed with excitement. “I love that idea. I’m already picturing something with Rose, lots of pink of course but maybe a flower crown headband…”
That was it. All that was needed to put the creative thought train back into motion. The couple continued to chat back and forth on the cat ear headband designs which included mask decals, gems, fun patterns and so much more. Luka consistently gave suggestions based on what he knew the other band members would like. Within an hour in multiple cat ears designs spread across the pages of the sketchbook.
“Alright,” the designer put the pencil down and slid her sketchbook back into her tote bag for safe keeping. “We got about twenty different designs. I think that would be enough to show the others. Thanks for helping out.”
“You’re welcome, but it’s not a big deal,” he told her. “I’m always going to help you if I can.”
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “It is for me. You were able to come up with those ideas pretty quickly. Are you sure that there’s not some designer gene you’ve been hiding?”
“Nope, just a creative one. But it was pretty fun helping you come up with stuff.”
“Usually I do this by myself but it was fun having someone to bounce ideas off of. We do work well together.”
“Can’t deny that or we wouldn’t have made it this far.”
“Exactly, that was the reason I was afraid of history repeating itself.”
“That’s one thing that you don’t have to worry about Marinette. I love you too much to let you go over something so trivial. While I can’t speak for everyone else I will always be in your corner.”
“I love you too. My world will always be better with you in. I don’t know how it could not be to have someone kind and compassionate in my life. There’s so much more to say about you but I do have a curfew so we don’t have six hours to spare.”
“I feel the same way as I love how brave and passionate you are. I was never miserable before I met you. But I would be lying if I haven’t been happier since meeting you. Especially being loved by you-“
Before he could finish she pulled him into a kiss, their lips touched. For a moment it felt like the world was disappearing around them. That is until raindrops landed between them breaking them apart. Marinette looked up to see several raindrops making their descent.
“Rain?” Luka questioned. “The weather report said it wasn’t going to rain until midnight. I checked right before I called you. I can’t believe this.”
“I can,” the designer expressed. “For me it seems pretty on brand for the rest of the day.”
“It appears to be a light drizzle so there’s no need to evacuate. But what did you want to do?”
The designer thought for a second as earlier tonight she had plans of fleeing from any possible sense of misfortune. But now didn’t mind as everything she wanted was here.
“Based on what you said before,” she told him. “We made it this far, so should we stop now?”
The musician smiled while cupping her cheek. “It’s nice to see that you’re willing to take my advice.”
The couple looked lovingly into each other’s eyes, pulling themselves into a tender but passionate kiss. Like classic movie characters, they stayed in the rain for just a little bit longer. As no matter what happens around them, here they will always be together.
Since there always will be good and bad among the stars.
The End.
Thanks for reading. 😊
While all this is going on Tikki is downstairs watching her movie and finishing the box of chocolates thinking this is the good life. I hope everyone enjoyed this story. I must admit. I do enjoy writing about Marinette and Luka as a couple. I’m always the type to look into wasted or untapped potential in characters and concepts. Those have always been one of my favorite things when writing. Plus it’s always good to keep certain writing skills sharp either character driven or romantic plot driven.
In addition, I wanted to acknowledge how much Marinette had been through the wringer due to…certain writing choices. It seems believable that certain fears or insecurities pop up when there’s so much on your shoulders.
The song this week is “All Of The Stars” by Ed Sheeran.
youtube
If you made it this far, I would really appreciate it.
See you next time. 👋
This story is also available on Wattpad.
#miraculous ladybug#lukanette endgame#pro lukamari#lukanette#endgame lukanette#marinette dupain cheng#luka couffaine#miraculous au#my writing#Youtube
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Ranking the Rokesby Series
So after recently reading all 4 Rokesby books, here’s my ranking of them;
1. The Girl With The Make-Believe Husband
Cecilia and Edward’s love story has to be my favourite from the sheer drama of it all. This book has everything; the hero suffering from amnesia, the heroine pretending to be his wife, a brother MIA, falling in love over correspondence, a strawberry-induced allergic reaction, and the ever beloved “there’s only one bed” trope. I also think Cecilia and Edward’s book is my favourite of the Rokesby series because while reading it I felt as though it was a bit Benophie-coded, due in part to the heroine having to go by an alternate identity of sorts and the hero not being any the wiser right up until the last few chapters (though to be fair Edward is suffering from memory loss - Benedict is just an idiot lmao).
2. The Other Miss Bridgerton
Andrew and Poppy are next and while I initially thought Billie was as chaotic a Bridgerton as her nieces and nephews, it turns out drama and scandal is simply a Bridgerton family trait, as proven by Poppy when she manages to get kidnapped by privateers. Andrew makes for the perfect charmingly cheeky hero and he definitely reminded me a lot of Colin especially with his inability to stay in one place for too long yet coming to a point where he desired more from life. I enjoyed the witty back and forth between the pair but also how closely they bonded through their deeper conversations and how their attraction became more and more palpable as the story progressed. I genuinely didn’t expect the drama that would ensue upon their arrival in Portugal but it made for a pleasant surprise and appropriately raised the stakes for them to realise just how much they meant to each other.
3. Because Of Miss Bridgerton
Now while I did thoroughly love George and Billie’s love story they’ve ended up ranking third only because there was so much drama in the above books in stark contrast. Again, I can’t help but compare the Rokesby series with the Bridgerton series and in doing so it’s so abundantly clear that this story is Kanthony-coded; from the enemies-to-lovers trope between two respective eldest siblings, the alleged supposition among the other characters that Billie is destined to end up with one of George’s brothers (even though it’s quite obvious that the supporting players are all lowkey side-eyeing the pair throughout), and even a game of Pall Mall featuring the mallet of death. While it could be viewed as an italicized version of Kanthony; TVWLM is one of Julia Quinn’s best stories for a reason so fuck it, why shouldn’t it be echoed?
4. First Comes Scandal
And just because Georgie and Nicholas’s story is ranked fourth doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it; again, purely based off of drama, this book simply wasn’t as wildly dramatic as it’s three predecessors. I loved the Muppet baby cameos of young ABC but if anything I loved it too much because I wanted more of them, plus I was a little disappointed that we never saw Edmund’s reaction to his best friend becoming engaged to his younger sister; did he get mad, was he shooketh, or did he find it a bit funny? For me the journey to Scotland dragged on a little more than I would have liked though I did enjoy reading how Georgie and Nicholas slowly fell for each other and transitioned from being friends to lovers (plus it was a nice touch having their first time being both of their first times; it gave their love scene a fresh dynamic from the rest of Regency couples’ first times).
#rokesby series#cecilia x edward#andrew x poppy#george x billie#georgia x nicholas#the girl with the make believe husband#the other miss bridgerton#because of miss bridgerton#first comes scandal
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Jane Austen Novels, Ranked by How Easy They Are to Adapt into Modern-Day High School AUs
Emma: I believe most of us have seen Clueless, so little elaboration is required here. However, I will point out three things that make the switch to a modern-day high school AU particularly easy. First, Emma doesn’t need to marry Knightley, or anyone else, for money or status; she just marries him because she loves him. It’s easier to translate that dynamic to a modern-day teenage romance, even if you nix the actual marriage. Second, the novel is set in one small village where everyone knows each other, which is not unlike a high school. Third, a self-assured high school junior/senior is fairly analogous to a small-town belle a few years out in society.
Northanger Abbey: I think this works best if Catherine is (a) going to a preppy boarding school for the first time or (b) spending a semester/year as an exchange student. She should be a fish out of water who’s not being supervised by her parents, but by less involved adults. (Northanger Abbey also works great if Catherine is a first-year college student.) With these caveats, Catherine is a great teen heroine, who goes through such relatable struggles as getting lost in the gothic novel sauce and spending too much time with a boorish loudmouth out of politeness. Catherine also isn’t desperate to marry for material reasons, although Henry is a great match for her in that sense.
Sense and Sensibility: Back when I was in high school, I read a YA novel that made the Dashwood sisters into modern-day English teens. It wasn’t great, but it basically made sense. Many of Elinor and Marianne’s problems translate just fine to the modern day: liking a guy who’s not available, liking a guy who’s romantic and intense but untrustworthy, having a complicated relationship with your sister, having to kind of parent your mom, suffering financial stress, having a frenemy you can’t shake, etc. Some elements of the plot need adjusting, of course. Elinor and Marianne can’t marry their way into making their family financially solvent as teens, and Marianne can’t end up with a guy in his mid-thirties…not unless you’re going really gritty, anyway.
Mansfield Park: The trouble with Mansfield Park is that almost everybody is related. This fact creates problems both for the “modern” (because dating your blood-related first cousin whom you’ve shared a family home with since you were a tween is too weird for most people nowadays) and the “high school” (because these bitches barely ever leave their house). I think you have three options.
First, you can make Edmund a non-cousin. Maria, Julia, and Tom are all still Fanny’s cousins, but Edmund is a nice neighbor or family friend. This is probably the most normal option and, while you lose some of the juicy conflict involved in Edmund being raised by the same fucked-up people as the rest, I think it could be really cute. Maybe Sir Thomas is still a mentor/father figure to Edmund or something.
Second, you can make none of them cousins. Mansfield Park is a fancy private school, not a family estate. I think you lose a lot of the tension and conflict this way, but it would be fun to rewrite.
Third, they’re all cousins and they all go to school together, along with the Crawford siblings. (Mary and Henry Crawford would be perfect in a modern-day high school AU, no notes.) It’s just a peculiar modern-day high school AU that doesn’t shy away from depicting first cousins in love. Whatever, we need something to spice up all the nineties nostalgia.
Pride and Prejudice: I’ve read or heard of several promising Pride and Prejudice college/young-adulthood AUs (including a long-vanished fanfic set on Long Island during the first throes of Beatlemania). This is a much easier change than writing a modern-day high school AU, for a few reasons. First, Lizzie has multiple sisters, and it’s pretty important to the plot that the youngest is a teenager who’s still significantly less mature than her. This is tricky, although not impossible, to deal with. Second, Lizzie and her sisters have a lot of freedom and travel around a lot, which is easier to explain if she’s in college or a young adult with a job that allows/requires that. Third, Lizzie is just extremely twenty years old.
Persuasion: Anne Elliot can’t be eighteen years old. Hell, in a modern-day AU, she probably shouldn’t even be twenty-seven, like in the novel. Ideally she’s at least forty.
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Honestly, I don’t get how people can’t understand that otome isekai is literally for wish fulfillment and self inserting not for being “realistic”😭 rest under the cut bc I have so many opinions.
The criticisms are always like “why doesn’t the protagonist ever miss her family” “why don’t they struggle without the use of google”(and yes this is a serious critique I’ve seen made) this is supposed to be a fantasy of being reborn as a rich lady with hot guys all over her this is obviously not made to be realistic. That’s why kill the villainess does nothing for me (no shade if it’s a favorite of yours), it’s commentary/satire of the genre falls flat because the purpose of isekai is not to show the main character struggling and being depressed. The purpose is escapism. It critiques otome isekai on something it was never trying to be and shows a fundamental misunderstanding of why these works exist in the first place. Kill the villainess feels like it was written by someone who didn’t bother trying to understand what they sought to critique and thought the people who read it were too dumb to understand that it wasn’t realistic. Commentary and subversion of tropes and media best work when they are made by people who actually like the original pieces of media because they’re the ones who are going to be aware of what is worthwhile critique of it. In making coherent criticism of a piece of media, you generally have to base them on what that work is going for, not whatever thing you wanted to see that contradicts the story and it was never written to be. When people were praising it like “finally! a realistic reaction to being isekai’d” to me, it sounded like when people on twitter go “What about a superman movie where superman has a realistic character arc and is corrupted and turned evil?” like do you even know what media you’re consuming right now? Do you know why people like it? What purpose it serves? What it’s trying to be? Kill the villainess is so ineffectual to me because it doesn't critique or satirize any actual issue of OI. I know it has the yandere male leads but so do hundreds of other novels and manhwa, trying to escape a psycho male character is the plot of so many other OI and KTV adds nothing to the topic. Sympathetic second female lead/heroine? Done already and arguably better. It hinges on a such flimsy premise and people act as if it's groundbreaking even though it misses the point because so did they.
I hate how women can’t have their wish fulfillment or badass power fantasies without someone whining because the female lead hasn’t tried to kill herself or been abused and it isn’t rEaLiStiC enough. Of course it isn’t, women get enough of watching female characters suffer on screen for the sake of realism maybe we just want to come home and read a silly story sometimes about a princess who falls in love with a knight and can heal people with magic or whatever. Men can get all the power fantasies they want in their media and have it go without any heavy criticism or great demand for realism but how dare women have nice stories where they’re not suffering constantly and yearning to get back to their shitty families/lives and can fall in love in a new fictional world more romantic than the real one. Watching people gush over miserable media simply for the fact that it is miserable and call it realistic just because the female lead is suffering and the male lead gets to do whatever, and use it to shit on the stories that women wrote in order to give some reprieve to what we already go through — the stories this genre is for — is so bleak.
Furthermore I hate the takes about how “everyone thinks these otome isekai worlds are better because magic but they’re actually suuuper lawless and dark” like no. People wanna live in these worlds because they are magical, fluffy, romantic settings where cliches can thrive, evil is always vanquished and the story is simple. It would be like saying “everyone wants to live in these beautiful disney movie kingdoms but they’re actually so dark, they’re based on medieval times so obviously even though you can see it’s only loosely based on those times, the world MUST be exactly like the dark ages. And look how they let evil sorceresses and flynn rider (convicted thief) roam around, clearly it’s a lawless land.” In most (not all) cases, it’s literally just a highly idealized setting for romance, defeating evil and living happily ever after.
It’s fine if self inserting or wish fulfillment isn’t your thing but to be blunt — find a new genre because otome isekai isn’t constantly referencing otome games for no reason. It’s self insert material. This genre wasn't and still really isn't for “realistic” tales and I don’t see the point in pretending that it is and complaining about the lack of it. That’s not to say I dislike realistic stories as a whole, just that they’re not really what otome isekai is for. I refuse to believe that people are just all around too oblivious to understand what these stories are for, I kinda just think these people make these complaints because most of the manga/manhwa is low hanging fruit and can be critiqued easily because they’re not challenging works. These people can say that they long for a more complex story with such and such subversions but those stories already exist and these people don’t seem to care to read or discuss them instead. And of course not, because those pieces of media are actually challenging and why put in the effort when you can pretend to be smart and enlightened by making pointless critiques of cliche stories? Why actually read complex media with subversions and topical commentary when you can make sure everyone knows you’re a super smart media critic by complaining about a story which never intended to be anything but silly wish fulfillment?
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Arabella pt 9- nobody said it was easy
masterlist.
⋆。°✩
Jumping down, I offer my hand so she can take it and she takes it and we link arms
"come on lets go face them tell them together, my little bug" I say placing a kiss on her forehead.
⋆。°✩
⋆。°✩
Walking with my dad back in through the hospital entrance was something that made my heart heavy because I knew eventually I had to explain what happened I just didn't know how to.
"so? whats the verdict then?" Denise looked between my dad and I with an eyebrow raised. Then my dad looked at me as if to say 'do you want to tell her' and I shook my head with tears brimming my eyes.
"denise, we're all going to go home, get some rest then recoup at ours in the morning, we need a serious conversation about Matty, a collective decision that we all need to make together"
I mouth thank you to my dad which he just replies with a wink and a mouthing of "it's alright sweetheart"
sighing she nods knowing it's probably for the best as we're all running low on sleep and it would probably make her overreact and no one deserves a shouting Denise especially in such a public place like a hospital, where theres already heavy hearts from injurys and the immence waiting time of the NHS.
"okay, so we'll all meet back at ours at 1 then, George I know you don't have any family back here anymore so you can stay with us, give dennie here a break yeah, can make a bacon and egg sarnie for ya in the morning" my mum perks up from where she was stood drying her eyes. Matty, George, Ross and Adam are like the son's she never had so naturally, she was crying because of it, but when it came to it she would be the rock and sensible head for everyone.
"honestly, you don't have to, I can get a hotel room for the night"
"No G, you're family, so you're staying"
sighing he comes with tagging along, next to me throwing an arm round my shoulder.
"G you drive back with Y/n/n, we'll see you at ours"
⋆。°✩
Everyone was gathered round the table at 1pm the next day, Tim and Denise putting aside their issues all in turn for their son. Jamie had even come up from London, he clearly cares so much about the guys to do that because he was very busy. You could tell Matty was loved by so many, this just made it harder for me though because I would be breaking everyone's hearts.
"Right, is everyone settled. everyone got drinks? Tissues?" my mother states her clear motherliness coming into clutch looking after everyone around her.
"mum just sit down, everyones fine" I say, getting her to sit down. In turn making me stand up so I could announce what was going on with Matty.
"Now I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you all here, now this isn't going to be an easy topic, It's going to be quite shocking for some." I had to pause
"go on" Tim's newcastle accent breaking the closing of my eyes to hold the tears back.
"So, I'm going to say it, He suffered from blunt force trauma to the head, he had fallen off of the highest ramp at the rec, from alcohol poisoning, he's been put in a medically induced coma, he could wake up in days weeks months years, he may never wake up time will only tell" I pause again because a mix of oh gods and sobbing could be heard.
George is the one to break the silence this time "that isn't the only thing is it?" he says, he can read me like a book he knows I wouldn't be standing up still if I didn't have more news to tell.
"no it isn't George, you would be correct. As some of you know, Matty likes to drabble in drugs, I did sometimes as well, but it gets at its worse when hes upset, the guys and I usually make it in time but this time we didn't, he took every drug you could imagine, weed coke oxy meth, I think heroin was mentioned but I'm not too sure. Now, I'm sure some of you are aware dad and I have told you we have a decision to make"
"what is it?" Denise half-sobs-half-asks.
"whether or not to send Matty to rehab, I need this to be a collective decision. And I need you to really think before you all start. It could get worse, he could overdose multiple times, he could die. He might come out as a different person, he might not want to continue his career, so I ask you all to think, just think please" is all I said before going out into the garden, and then all the tears came back out again.
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"hey" a voice says from behind me
"shit G, don't do that do a girl you proper scared me"
and I looked behind me and all my mates were standing behind me and they joined me sitting outside coming in for a hug and we all shred a few tears, we might've lost our best mate.
"you know we'll all get through this don't you, we love matty way too much to chance him dying we'll all put our careers on hold for him, G ads and I can go work in bars, enough to scrape rent, besides if needs come to musts, Al could always be an in-fill for matty, or..." ross says, then George perks up
"Ross no, absolutely not, not with what ads and y/n/n have gone through"
"I think it's a good idea, he sounds just enough like Matty to pass off as him, you guys can keep your jobs, He can fill in while mattys doing whatever, I have Al now, all you have to do is get Adams permission" I say pointing to Adam who's stood with his back to us looking out into the distance.
"yeah, I was listening, fuck it do it I'm over it now, Y/n get your phone give him a call see if he wants to." George gives us both a look knowing that it's not a good idea.
"G, we're desperate to record, I'm not gonna throw it away, all because a fucker of our best mate got high and got killed"
"ADAM! HES NOT DEAD JUST IN A COMA, ALSO ITS NOT HIS FAULT, HES GOING THROUGH THINGS EVERYTHING CAME TO A HEAD, IF ANYTHING ITS MY FAULT OKAY?" I shout, before I completly meltdown and G and Ross come to my side hugging me before I drop to the floor.
"y/n/n im sorry, i didn't mean it"
"enough adam, go inside" g says from my side.
"but-"
"just go" ross says.
⋆。°✩
end of chap. 9
#adam hann#alex turner x reader#george daniel#matty healy#matty healy x reader#alex turner x you#matty healy x you#ross mcdonald#matty healy x y/n#alex turner x y/n#the 1975#arctic monkeys#fanfic
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hi do you have a rec for a book where the heroine is like, nice and polite because Society™ but is bottling up her rage and the hero helps her let out the rage/emotions? preferably historical but i'll take anything!
Yes!
I've been recommending it a lot, but... this is For My Lady's Heart by Laura Kinsale. The heroine is a widowed princess who keeps a very icily polite and cold surface (maybe not nice, lol, but very in keeping with her societal role), and the hero helps her get in touch not only with her anger but her grief as well. So good, with such a unique heroine.
Joss and The Countess by S.M. LaViolette has shades of this. The heroine is a widow who was horribly treated by her husband (TW lots of discussions of sexual abuse in the book) and Joss is her bodyguard as she roams the city trying to meet someone who will take her to bed and make her feeeel. Turns out Joss can make her feel (and she's super into being dominated by him, naturally).
Melissa and The Vicar by S.M. LaVioette is another one you might want to try, and it comes first, I think? Melissa is a madame who now runs her own brothel but was sold into sex work at a very young age (TW). She goes to this village because her health, largely due to stress, has taken a turn. She keeps up a very polite and professional mask for friends, patrons, etc, but she meets this virginal vicar guy who just unlocks something vulnerable in her and allows her to really feel and vent about all the shit she's been through over her life.
Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt SOOO has this vibe. The heroine is a society widow who's known for being like, very fashionable, very of high society. She's super polite and puts on a good show, and even takes care of her late husband's bastard child (though she herself is infertile and suffered a lot of miscarriages and suffers deeep down because of it). The hero, again a virgin lol, allows her to really let it all out--her anger, her pain, etc. There's one scene where he like basically holds her in his lap and strokes her hair and her back while she just loses her shit and I love it SO MUCH.
I meeeean lol Between the Devil and Desire by Lorraine Heath definitely has this. Olivia was really dissatisfied in her marriage, among other things, but kept it together because she was the duchess, and Jack empowers her to express her feelings more openly. She actually has a majorly defiant streak, and he triggers that.
Non-historical:
Evernight by Kristen Callihan. This is a Victorian supernatural, and one of my favorite Darkest London books. The heroine has the ability to manipulate metal, and she's this very removed, cool woman; she was used by a big villain to create this like... clockwork heart dealy situation for this guy who's essentially a vampire/demon, and having it in his chest and being this monster, basically, has driven him out of his mind. (He was previously very rakish and fun-loving.) He goes to get her to make her fix it, and she can't immediately, but touching her relieves his agony so he's like "well, I guess we're stuck together until you fix me". She's uptight, he's wild, they end up going on this whole adventure thing and also have very impetuous and poorly-planned sex on like, an exam room table thing, her name is Holly Evernight and even before they're vaguely romantic he calls her "my Evernight" it's GREAT.
No Rest for the Wicked by Kresley Cole. Lol, this is less "she's nice" but big on the "bottled emotions" thing. The heroine is a valkyrie who hunts vampires, and she's known as "Kaderin the Cold-Hearted" because she just can't feel emotion due to the loss of her sisters centuries before. She goes to kill this vampire, and it turns out he's basically a giant nerd who's had sex like exactly twice and lives in his big castle reading books and not hurting anyone. She still wants to kill him, but they end up dry humping on the floor instead, and then she's like "OH NO WHAT IS THIS FEELING???" and runs off. He understandably is all "you don't meet a woman like that every dynasty" and chases her, determined to make her feel a feeling lmao.
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