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mlwritersguild · 2 years

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the very first page (not where the storyline ends) by @queer-cosette

AO3 Link; Sabrina Raincomprix/Zoe Lee, prom, dancing, friendship/love

Summary:

Sabrina isn’t looking forward to prom without Chloé by her side. She didn’t consider that Zoé might understand better than anyone how she feels.

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Why does everyone say prom is the most magical night of high school?

No, really, it doesn’t make sense. Every television show with a prom that Sabrina has ever watched always ends in drama. It doesn’t matter that Sheldon says “I love you” to Amy if Howard is fistfighting Stuart for asking out Jeanie. Who cares if Fred and Daphne get to dance together - the ghost girl still tries to kill them! Kim has to leave to save the world and doesn’t get to the ‘Ron was perfect for me the whole time’ thing until after Eric is revealed as evil. Shouldn’t prom be the post-happily-ever-after celebration? You should get to go after getting your life together.

Of course Sabrina’s prom comes when she’s never felt less put-together. She’s not imaginative by any means, but she knows her classic literature, and she feels like the Little Mermaid in Hans Christian Andersen’s original work. The bitter realisation that Chloé’s love has always been conditional still stings.

Well.

It wasn’t really a realisation, was it?

Sabrina has always known Chloé’s love was conditional. Deep down.

It was really more admitting it to herself. Accepting it. Wishing it could have been different.

But it’s not different. Chloé does not want the Sabrina who is happy, who is reaching out for friendships and connection. She wants the old Sabrina who listened to her unconditionally, acted the part of the devoted lapdog, did everything she could to gain approval and acceptance. And even if she decided she did want who Sabrina is now, well, Sabrina’s not so sure she wants Chloé anymore.

And, well, that’s hard to get used to. After all, Chloé was everything to her for so long. It’s difficult to not run back to her and beg to turn back time.

But Sabrina’s Kwami is Barkk, not Fluff. Barkk represents Adoration - that is, love. And Sabrina has found herself happier learning to love herself than she was when she measured her worth by Chloé’s love.

But it means that, well, prom is… lonely.

Everywhere she looks, there are happy couples. Adrien and Marinette are alternating between slow-dancing and blushing at each other. Alya and Nino are as in tune with each other as ever, Nino somehow knowing the exact ratio of red punch to yellow punch Alya likes, while Alya is balancing two buffet plates, one of which is all Nino’s favourites and the other her own. Myléne and Ivan are talking and laughing with Luka Couffaine and his pretty dark-haired girlfriend - Sabrina thinks her name might be Carlotta; Alix and Max, ace-aro as they both are, have escorted each other in and are congratulating Kim and Ondine on being official; even Kagami is pink-cheeked and smiling with Adrien’s friend Wayhem. Juleka and Rose are dancing. Nathaniël is requesting a song from the DJ while Marc waits for him, smiling widely. Aurore is just entering, beaming like the sun, her pretty blonde girlfriend, Robbin, on her arm. Mirielle and Jean are feeding each other cocktail shrimp at the buffet table.

There are only two people missing from the scene.

Lila is lighting up the groupchat with insistence that her ‘millionaire boyfriend’ is running late in picking her up and that she will absolutely be there. Given that her ‘generous offer’ to have Clara Nightingale sing at their prom fell through at the last minute, and somehow there was a ‘mistake’ with her ‘Gabriel original’ ‘free’ prom dress that meant she ‘had’ to buy a different dress at full price, Sabrina is not exactly inclined to believe her.

Chloé is nowhere to be seen.

Not, of course, that Sabrina’s ‘dancing together declaration of love’ fantasy was going to be fulfilled even if she was here.

She needs some air.

Sabrina pushes through the hall into the foyer, avoiding the eyes of the few stragglers still out here as she tries not to run for the door.

She just always secretly, subconsciously dreamed that maybe, just maybe, the whole ‘prom is the most magical night of our lives’ thing might come true for her and Chloé.

The night air is like a slap. Sabrina can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

She decides that it will be a good thing as she leans against the wall. After all, deciding that ambiguous things were going to be good things is how she’s survived most of her life. Like when her parents split up. Two Christmases. Or when her class schedule couldn’t accommodate both History and Physics. More time to study for History.

Like Chloé.

“Oh, thank god, I’m not the last one out here!”

Sabrina looks up at the voice, which is familiar, yet not familiar, yet definitely familiar. It’s Zoé.

Chloé’s sister.

Chloé is nowhere in sight.

Good thing, Sabrina decides.

“Wow, Zoé, you look great!” she says, and means it.

Zoé does that cheerful little pocket-wiggle girls do when their outfit gets complimented. She’s forgone a dress in favour of a fitted black velvet tuxedo jacket and glittery rose-gold leggings, her ever-present beret and converse exchanged for a bowler hat with a ribbon that matches her leggings and sparkly black pumps with ankle straps. In other words, she’s the definition of ‘stylish’, and in comparison, Sabrina feels very overdressed, her turquoise tulle skirt suddenly overly fussy and her green wrap cardigan with its little pink bow seems to be trying too hard. Chloé would have thought so.

But Zoé is not Chloé, and she beams. “Thanks! So do you - I love your shoes!”

Sabrina automatically glances down at the little pink bows on her green mary-janes. “Thanks!” she hears herself say. “I got them online - I was a little worried they would arrive in the wrong size…”

What is happening? Zoé should surely be criticising Sabrina’s outfit right now. It’s what Chloé would do.

Zoé is not Chloé.

Maybe this time Sabrina won’t have to decide that that’s a good thing.

Zoé gestures to the doors. “Do you want to head in, then?”

Sabrina wants to nod. But the thought feels overwhelming.

“I was just getting some air,” she croaks out. “I’ll head back in in a minute… you should go in though, it’s ok -”

“I can wait with you, if you want?”

If Sabrina wants? What is she supposed to say to that? No one ever asks her what she wants - well, not in this way. She’s usually just told. I’ll wait with you. I’m going back in. We’re going in now, together. Fine, stay out here and make us both look like losers.

But Zoé’s face is open and earnest, and maybe Sabrina would like the company.

And so she nods. “That would be nice, thanks…”

Zoé leans against the wall next to Sabrina, effortlessly cool in a way Sabrina herself could never manage.

“So, are you here yourself, or -?” Sabrina asks, her voice trailing off before she means it to.

Zoé seems to know what she means even without Sabrina finishing the question. “I don’t know if she’s coming,” she says softly. “She started yelling at Andre when she found out she couldn’t ban me from the prom. I slipped out while I still had the chance.”

There’s a slight frown on her face, but it clears and brightens in a millisecond, and she changes the subject.

“So, no date tonight?” she asks, but it’s not mean. Her voice is friendly.

“No,” Sabrina replies, shocked at how easy it is to answer Zoé. “Never really thought about who I might want to take to prom.” That’s a lie, but the truth is painful, and Sabrina isn’t going to unload that onto Zoé, who is clearly just being nice, not probing.

Zoé chuckles. “Yeah, me neither. Doesn’t help that most of the ladies in our school are either taken or painfully heterosexual.”

Sabrina blinks. “You’re -?”

Zoé laughs. “Come on, how many straight girls do you know who can rock this haircut?” she asks teasingly.

That is a fair point.

“That is a fair point,” Sabrina repeats aloud. “I think I’d just subconsciously filed it away as a culture difference.”

“Have you ever been to New York?”

“Yes I have, what’s your point?”

They both burst out laughing. Sabrina’s heart feels lighter than it has in a long time.

“There was a boy I met in New York,” Sabrina confesses softly. “He’s one of the few people I’ve ever really liked. Like, like-liked. One of three, I think.”

“Who were the other two?”

“Marinette, for a bit -”

“Valid and understandable.”

“And…” Sabrina trails off. She doesn’t want to say it. Saying it to Zoé means admitting it to someone besides her journal.

She can’t admit it.

But Zoé seems to understand.

“I’m sorry,” she says gently, and seems to mean it. “You deserve better.”

Sabrina’s jaw drops at this. “She’s your sister!” And then her jaw drops again, because it’s the first time she’s said it out loud - ever.

Zoé shrugs. “This isn’t The Godfather. Family isn’t the be-all or end-all.”

And Sabrina realises that out of everyone she knows, Zoé probably knows better than ever how Chloé has hurt Sabrina. Knows what it’s like to desire that love that is completely and utterly conditional. Chloé made it clear from the beginning that her love for her sister hinged on how alike they were, and vanished when it became obvious that they were not alike at all.

Zoé isn’t Chloé. But she’s been hurt by Chloé.

Zoé isn’t Chloé, and that’s a good thing. And for once, Sabrina doesn’t have to rationalise it at all.

“Do you want to go in?” she asks Zoé. Zoé grins.

“Sure.”

And, so casually she has to have done it before, she offers Sabrina her arm. Sabrina takes it.

“Did you ever see that episode of Sabrina the Teenage Witch where they go to a prom-type thing?” Zoé asks conversationally as they head through the doors. Sabrina shakes her head.

“Chloé never wanted to watch it. She found it weird that the main character had the same name as me.”

“Pity,” Zoé sniffs, still grinning. “We could’ve reenacted the scene where Sabrina and Harvey dance together outside.”

There and then, Sabrina vows to herself to find and watch the episode as soon as she gets home tonight.

Just for research purposes, you understand.

And her cheeks are only pink because the inside is so much warmer than the outside.

The dance floor is full when they get back to the hall, the end of Flo Rida’s ‘Low’ just trailing off. Sabrina is a little sorry to have missed it. It’s the kind of song where you get included, even if it’s just to risk your ankles attempting to slut-drop. Maybe it’ll come on again later. Hey, maybe she can request it to play again. There’s no one stopping her tonight.

The thought makes her slightly giddy, and she notices a moment too late that everyone is pairing off with their dates as the soft opening chords of Taylor Swift’s ‘Enchanted’ begin to drift out over the floor. It’s a slow-dance song.

One she’s dreamed of dancing to at prom for ages.

Hmm. Maybe Sabrina is tired of pushing away her dreams. And so she offers a hand to Zoé.

“Would you like to dance?” she asks. After all, Zoé had stipulated she wanted to go with someone who was neither taken nor heterosexual.

And Sabrina is neither of those things.

Zoé looks pleasantly surprised. “Yes, I would,” she says, smiling, and takes Sabrina’s hand as Taylor Swift’s gentle vocals fill the room.

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…

Hmm. Maybe prom is going to be a little magical after all.

#mlwritersguild #april event 2022 #queer-cosette #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fic #sabrina raincomprix #zoe lee #chloe bourgeois #sabrina x zoe #miraculous #miraculous fic #mlb #mlb fic #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir

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pianomanblaine · 3 years

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Down Once More

This story was written for the Potober prompts “Down Once More” and “And Now, How You Betray Me”, particularly with the words “taken hostage” and “betrayal” in mind. It resulted in an alternative version of the final lair. Fair warning: this one does not have a happy ending.

AO3 FFN

He dragged her along the dark and damp corridors beneath the opera house at a frantic pace, his grip on her arm harsh and unrelenting, not even sparing her a backward glance as she stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with him. Her head was still reeling from the events leading up to this moment. It had all happened so fast, yet here and now, time seemed to lose all meaning. Every separate moment seemed to fade into the next one, forming one big hazy blur. It might have been several hours or merely a few minutes before they reached the shore of the underground lake and Erik was steering the little boat across the water towards his house.

Once inside, he pushed her into the bedroom which she had come to think of as hers, and roughly thrust the wedding dress he had so painstakingly crafted for her into her arms. He did not leave the room, did not even turn around to give her the smallest bit of privacy as he forced her to change into it. He immediately started yanking at the fastenings of the dress she was wearing, undressing her with great urgency, letting the garment pool around her feet, and for a moment she feared that he had gone completely mad and would try to violate her. But he only barked out an order for her to put on the wedding gown as he began to agitatedly pace the floor, only occasionally glancing in her direction while she got dressed again.

When she was finished, Erik retrieved a veil – she did not see where from, he might as well have pulled it out of thin air – and forcefully pushed it onto her head. Under any other circumstances, she might have been able to appreciate how delicate and beautiful it was, with its wreath of white and pale pink flowers that contrasted so nicely against her dark brown hair. It hardly weighed anything, but to Christine it felt incredibly heavy, carrying with it the full weight of Erik’s expectations.

Now that her wedding attire was complete, Erik finally stood still long enough to fully look at her. She wondered if he was happy with what he saw. He must have imagined her in that very dress so many times. Was he satisfied now that he had what he wanted, even knowing that it was against her will? Was it all really worth it?

Before she got the chance to ask him, he turned his back on her and walked away without saying a word. She followed him into the sitting room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, its warm glow a striking contrast to the icy atmosphere in the room.

“So what now?” Christine asked, breaking the tense silence between them. “Are you planning to keep me hostage here, hoping I will suddenly change my mind and agree to marry you after all? Or will you just drag me in front of a priest and threaten me until I say ‘I do’?”

“This is not exactly how I had imagined it to go either, Christine,” he snapped as he stood by the fire with his back turned towards her. “I had a plan, and it would have worked if your precious little Vicomte didn’t have to ruin it all.”

“Raoul was only trying to protect me.”

“And look where his protection got you,” Erik sneered, turning to face her with a grotesque grin on his bare face as he gestured around the room, “in the Phantom’s lair, captured by the madman!”

“I never believed you to be mad, Erik,” she replied, “but I have come to understand how dangerous you can be.”

Christine’s heart twisted painfully as she recalled the early days of their acquaintance, when she still believed he was the Angel of Music. How kind he had always been to her, how gently he had treated her. But that had changed drastically when she learned of his deception and discovered his true identity. He had continued to act as her tutor, coaxing her voice to unknown heights, and although he was never harsh or violent towards her, he had grown defensive and suspicious, always on his guard around her, as if he could not believe that she could still feel any genuine kindness towards him now that she had seen his face.

“Well yes, I suppose I am like a wild animal in that regard. When feeling threatened, I can be extremely dangerous indeed,” Erik agreed. He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, his tall frame towering over her. He seemed to be challenging her, daring her to look at the face of the monster.

“Should I be afraid then?” she asked, rising to the challenge and looking straight into his strange yellow eyes.

At first he merely seemed surprised, maybe even impressed, by her bravery as she stood her ground and faced him without flinching, but by the way his face fell only a moment later, she could tell when the meaning of her words hit him. He turned away as he spoke.

“Of course not. I never meant for you to be scared of me. I never intended you any harm.” He took a few steps back, as if to prove his point, as if he hoped to seem less threatening if he stood a little further away from her.

“Kidnapping me is a strange way of showing it,” Christine huffed.

His posture stiffened at the accusation. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice, did you?” he said through clenched teeth. “You betrayed me!”

“I betrayed you?” she gasped in disbelief, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Do you want to talk about betrayal, Erik? Do you want to discuss how you lied to me for years, pretending to be an angel sent by my dead father to watch over me? How you blackmailed the managers into doing your bidding, how you terrorized Carlotta and God knows how many others?”

“Don’t you understand? I did it all for you! Because I love you!” he roared.

“Don’t you dare blame this all on me! You killed two innocent people, Erik! How does that have anything to do with love?”

“Buquet was not innocent,” he snorted. “He was a vile lecher, a pervert preying on young defenceless ballerinas in the dark behind the stage. He got what was coming to him.”

The man was certainly no saint, Erik was right about that and Christine knew it, but how could he not see that that did not justify his murder? Even so, she might have been able to forgive him for it eventually, if it had not been for Piangi.

“Piangi never hurt anyone.”

“Piangi was in the way!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to kill him, merely to incapacitate him long enough to take his place on the stage, but I ran out of time and I became careless. He was the only thing standing between us and I was not about to let him ruin my plan, no matter the cost.”

“You are delusional if you truly believe he was the only obstacle standing in your way. What did you expect to happen tonight, Erik? You would take Piangi’s place, sing with me in an opera of your own creation in front of a full theatre, and then what? I’d fall into your arms and we’d live happily ever after?” She tore the veil out of her hair in frustration, throwing it at his feet. If he thought that after all the times he had tried to force her hand, had tried to manipulate her into choosing him, she would now willingly become his bride, he was sorely mistaken.

“I cannot deny the truth of that, although it now becomes painfully clear how foolish I was to entertain such hopes.” Although his words seemed to imply that he blamed himself for having such unrealistic expectations, the glare he directed at Christine made it clear that he also faulted her for his disappointment. “I was ready to lay my heart at your feet tonight, Christine, and how did you repay me? By tearing off my mask and revealing my monstrous shame for all of Paris to see! I trusted you!”

His angry shouting turned into a sob of betrayal and despair, and for the briefest of moments, Christine’s anger was overshadowed by compassion for the man in front of her. She was well aware of how badly she must have hurt him by doing what she did, but she had no other options. If she hadn’t done something drastic that would enrage him enough to take action, the gendarmes waiting behind the stage would have closed in on him and captured him, or worse.

Raoul must have thought she was in her dressing room or somewhere else out of earshot as he gave his instructions to shoot Erik when the time came, but she had been too nervous to sit still for long, choosing instead to wander the hallways and eventually finding her way behind the stage, pacing back and forth in the dark as she waited for the inevitable tragedy of the night to unfold. She had heard every word. If she hadn’t acted when she did, Erik might have been dead by now.

“I understand that my actions hurt you too, Erik, truly, I do, but you gave me no choice. Can’t you see it was wrong to pin all your hopes and dreams on me? You’ve told me you love me, and I believe that in your own way you really do, but I cannot be held responsible for your feelings, Erik. I do not owe you anything simply because you love me.”

At the crestfallen, heartbroken look on his face, she almost went to him, almost closed the distance between them and embraced him in a futile attempt to offer him some comfort, a silent apology for having shattered his dreams in a few sentences. Almost. Whatever she had to offer him, it would not be enough now. He would always want what she could not give him.

“I know that I cannot make you love me,” Erik began after a long, heavy silence. “God knows I have tried long enough.” His voice sounded softer now, his bitter and accusatory tone completely gone. “But do you not care for me even a little bit? That could be enough for me. We could start over somewhere new, where no one knows who we are. I could still tutor you and you could still sing.” He was pleading now, with his eyes as well as his words, hoping against all odds that he could still convince her to share her future with him.

“I would expect nothing from you, Christine. I’d do anything to make you happy, I’d give you anything you want. You would only have to ask and it would be yours, and you would not have to do anything in return other than stay by my side. Dammit Christine, I am beyond pride. I’ll fall to my knees and beg if I must. Stay with me. Please.”

And for a moment, Christine was truly tempted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. She did care for him, how could she not? Despite everything, he was still her Angel of Music. She could not deny he had been an integral part of her life since the first moment she met him. Erik had been her sole companion during those terrifying first few years after her father’s passing. Through music he had brought her soul back to life. The connection between them was irrefutable, and she could hardly imagine a world where she would never see him again.

Yet she knew that what he asked of her was impossible. Even if he claimed that he had no expectations from her, she knew that he would never be truly happy until she returned his affections, that he would always continue to hope, and she could not bear to disappoint him. Besides, she already had a fiancé. Raoul. Her childhood sweetheart. Sweet, protective, kind-hearted Raoul, who was probably trying desperately to find a way to save her, even if he had to risk his own life to do so, at this very moment.

Where Erik’s love for her was obsessive and at times almost frightening, being with Raoul would be as easy as breathing. He might not be able to give her a life of music, but she would be safe and cared for. She would not want for anything, and unlike Erik, Raoul was not a wanted man. Choosing a life on the run with Erik over a comfortable and uncomplicated one with Raoul might be romantic, but it would also be foolish.

“I do care for you Erik,” she finally replied, “but I cannot stay.”

He did not try to convince her after that. He merely nodded in resignation, as if he had always known this would be the final outcome.

“Go then,” he said. “You can choose a change of clothes from the wardrobe in your – in the spare room. You would draw too much unwanted attention if you returned dressed the way you are now.”

Christine wondered if that was his true reasoning, or if he simply wanted to keep the wedding dress as a memento to torment himself with.

She obeyed his instructions for the last time, selecting a simple yet elegant dark blue day dress out of the assortment of clothes Erik had kept on hand for her since the first time she had spent the night in his home.

When she re-entered the sitting room to say her final goodbyes, Erik was kneeling on the floor, desperately clutching the veil she had so carelessly discarded earlier, a look of terrible sorrow etched across his distorted face. He brought the fabric to his misshapen nose, trying to inhale the little bit of her perfume that might cling to it.

His eyes flew open and he looked up at her in surprise when he heard her footsteps. He clearly had not expected her to come back.

Erik stood up slowly, wiping invisible dust from his trousers, straightening his jacket, as if after all that had transpired, it was still of the utmost importance that he look presentable to her. Maybe his habit of dressing so nicely was an attempt to compensate for the imperfection of his face, she suddenly realized.

A tentative smile formed on his lips as he watched her, silently waiting for whatever last scrap of kindness she would offer him before stepping out of his life for good. Christine could almost feel her heart breaking as she removed the ring he had thrust on her finger earlier that night, holding it out towards him. The ring was supposed to be a promise, a physical sign that their lives would forever be entwined. It did not feel right to keep it.

Erik’s smile disappeared as he reached for the ring, holding her hand in his for a moment while he looked into her eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. She gave a minute shake of her head before letting go of the ring and withdrawing her hand, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

Christine did not say goodbye, her voice unable to get the word out. She turned around and walked away, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other until she had reached the door. If she did not leave now, she never would, and she knew she had to.

At the door, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. One last glance at the man who had taught her voice to soar. He was still watching her, and when he noticed her looking at him he nodded once, as if to say: “It’s alright. Go. I understand.”

Trying to keep her tears at bay, she stepped over the threshold and made her way to the jetty, where the boat lay waiting for her. She knew she was making the right decision by leaving. But then why did it feel as if she was leaving a part of her heart behind?

As Christine steered the boat to the other side and removed herself from his life forever, Erik’s almost inhuman scream of loss and despair echoed across the underground lake. It was a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days.

#potober #potober 2021 #phantom of the opera #poto fanfiction #poto fanfic #phanfiction #phanfic #eline writes #my writing

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mengyan · 4 years

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Do you do headcanons?? If so can i get some domestic carulia headcanons 👀 like after carmen spends some time in argentina but then she misses jules so she goes back to england but jules is sad she left her so abruptly and isnt taking her shit so carmen moves near her and like has to re-win her over🥺🥺

anon, i absolutely do headcanons!! my brain is practically a dump for headcanons, you’ve come to the right place :D and if anyone ever wants me to write any just leave me a request in my inbox!

here is part one of my classic fic style headcanons based off of the prompt you’ve given (which is SO good by the way please i am so tempted to write it into a full fic and add to my mountain pile of drafts rn-):

carmen loves her mother, she really does. she’s sweet and kind and her family. it’s all she’s ever dreamed of. after carlotta sees her standing on her doorstep, her warm brown eyes freeze and then she gasps, launching forward and hugging her equally as shocked daughter.

“your eyes. my god, i would recognize them anywhere. [given name], is that you?”

“it’s carmen, actually,” she manages to say, her mother hugging her like it’s the end of the world. and her mother doesn’t question it, merely letting go and smiling at her with tear filled eyes.

“well, carmen, it’s nice to meet you.”

things aren’t perfect after that, of course. there are questions, so many of them that they stay up the entirety of the second night talking (not the first, carlotta insisted that she had to get some sleep). carlotta doesn’t seem fazed when she tells her about VILE and stealing from them, cries when she brings up her father, but they push through it because now they have each other.

it’s strange, then, the feeling she gets a month or so later. she’s lying on the couch after a few rounds of games with the orphanage kids, and she doesn’t feel... satisfied. she should, shouldn’t she? this is what she’s spent her life searching for. she left her team behind to focus on this, to give something to herself for once.

it’s maddening. she can’t figure it out, talking to player as she bounces a ball against the ceiling. her mom worries, asking her what’s wrong, but she can’t answer her because she doesn’t know.

another few weeks pass. she’s cleaning her tools, sorting through her red coat for some nostalgia. a slip of paper falls out, and written on it is the address to this house she’s living in, and-

“player- i never asked, and i’m not sure if you even know. who found the address?”

he hesitates. a beat, then— “your favourite ACME agent.”

oh. oh. jules. she hasn’t let herself think of her ever since she left them all behind, afraid of the memories of her brainwashed time being dredged up. julia probably hates her, and rightfully so.

but she’s buzzing. she feels like she’s onto something, like satisfaction is just out of her reach, and player is more than happy to check up on julia’s blog for her whereabouts. turns out she’s not in france but in england, visiting her mother, telling her blog audience that’s why she’ll be inactive for a while.

carmen laughs at the irony. player books her a flight.

fast forward and she’s halfway to julia’s mother’s place and in the middle of the sidewalk, she stops, suitcase rolling behind her. she probably shouldn’t be showing up randomly like this, no warning and dropping back into julia’s life when she doesn’t need it. julia’s had to have moved on by now, the girl in red just someone who was too afraid to meet up with her before she left.

“red, what’s up?” player asks her, staring at her unmoving icon on his screen. “you having second thoughts?”

“kind of, yeah,” she admits. “i’m just not sure if-”

there’s a tap on her shoulder. carmen turns around and feels her heart drop out of her chest.

julia argent stares back at her, arms crossed and looking exactly the same with her glasses and dressed in a casual tan coat, yellow sweater, and black jeans. she looked good, and, well, annoyed.

“hey, jules!” the greeting doesn’t come out as confident and suave as she hoped, but it suffices, and player speaks excitedly from his end. tell julia i said hi! he says, before cutting off.

“by the way, player says h—”

“ms. sandiego,” julia says stiffly, none of the playful flirting and easy tones that she’s gotten used to. “why are you here?”

“i thought you—” carmen stammers, reaching into her pocket and showing her the slip of paper. “you gave me this, and i wanted to thank you. also you know you can call me carmen.”

something in julia’s eyes softens at the sight of the paper, but then hardens again when she looks back at her. “you’re welcome. you didn’t have to come all this way to tell me, though. and calling you by a first name basis would imply that we’re friends, but it seems that we’re not, doesn’t it?”

carmen chokes a little, eyes widening. “we’re not- friends?”

“i would think a friend would at least say goodbye or get in contact with me any way before disappearing for months, so no, ms. sandiego, i don’t think we are.”

carmen’s first instinct is to feel offended, but she understands where the agent’s slight hostility towards her is coming from. this wasn’t just julia being petty, it was the consequences of her actions that she had to now make up for.

“jules, i’m sorry,” she says, going to grab her arm but drawing back at the last second. right. their subtle touches with each other were definitely off limits now. “we can talk about this in somewhere that’s not a public sidewalk, and i’ll explain everything, i promise.”

julia’s mouth twists into a frown, and she uncrosses her arms, one finger pushing up her glasses. she looks her square in the eye, her gaze cold and unflinching. “what is there to explain, exactly? how you left me- left us all so abruptly, and gave your closest family a note to remember you by? zack and ivy mentioned it to me- they’re being trained for ACME now, but i’m sure you knew that already.”

she didn’t. she hasn’t asked player for updates for a month. a heavy exhale escapes her, and she wishes she had player in her ear. julia lets out a humourless laugh at her lack of a response.

“i guess you found something better, ms. sandiego. i’m happy for you.”

the declaration is bitter- and with that, julia spins on her heel and walks away, heading to her mother’s house. carmen stands with her suitcase on the sidewalk, apologies on the tip of her tongue, wanting to chase after her. she swallows them down and drops onto the nearest bench, burying her face in her hands and tapping her earring so player can reconnect.

“red! how’d it go? what has julia been up to? is she-” player’s voice bursts through with questions, and carmen doesn’t say a word, a new mission in mind.

“do you know where julia is staying? not her mom’s place, i’m assuming.”

if player is surprised by the question, he doesn’t comment, and carmen can hear his keyboard clacking as he scans address books and properties. “she’s a couple blocks over, i’ll text you the address,” he says at last. carmen’s phone pings with the incoming text, but that’s not the actual thing she’s looking for.

“thanks, player. are there any houses up for sale near her street?”

“give me a second.” player pauses, scrolling through listings, and then continues. “there’s one like, diagonally across from her house, actually.”

“we have any funds left from our world saving?” she can tell player knows what she’s asking for now, from the telltale anxious drumming on his desk and the slower than usual clicking.

“a couple million, actually. i thought we were slowly distributing to-”

“i’ll make up for it, maybe nag some of the VILE stragglers and the remaining stolen artifacts and whatnot. can you set up a meeting with the house owner so we can wire the funds over?”

“this is a bad idea,” player cautions.

carmen grins. “and since when have i ever been known to have a good one?”

part two will be up as soon as i can get it written out! if you’re the anon that sent this, send me an ask about part two so i can answer it that way!

#asking carmen #my writing #carulia #julethief #carmen x julia #why do these posts of mine always get outrageously long 😭#give a writer a prompt and then boom a full fanfic #anon you asked for this #i love how you asked for domestic hcs and instead i handed you angst #don’t worry this is just part one!!!

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zerozeroren · 3 years

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Worst AU, Autor×Lillie, Phantom of the Opera AU

OH MY GOD

I'm sorry I'm literally screaming, this made my entire morning, there are so many gorgeous opportunities

Okay okay okay that's how I'm doing it, I'm leaning into the crack ship 100%

Lilie is the Phantom because her and Eric both live for the drama XD

In this AU Cristine is Fakir because the thought of him as an ingénue is fucking hilarious

Which makes Ahiru Raul

Which makes Autor Carlotta

Yes I'm fucking shipping Phantom and Carlotta XD when Lilieric screams "let there be war upon you both" she goes straight to Carlottautor, to elevate him instead of her original fav, and Autor, clinging to his fading success (and bitter that his rival chose Raul instead of him), agrees, and Lilieric takes him underground to teach him how to sing XD and their relationship is initially somewhere in between rivals and reluctant allies, but they respect each others sheer force of spite so much that it ends up in them falling for one another and driving Fakristine and Ahiraul off the Opera grounds entirely XD they don't mind tho, they flee to the seaside and lead a peaceful married life together. Carlottautor is the most famous opera diva of the century, him and Lilieric terrorise the Opera together, and there is also a Pique Persian somewhere in there unsuccessfully trying to reign them in XD

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jilyesplz · 3 years

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I don't think James had strong feelings for Carlotta other than attraction perhaps and sort of 'fake it till you make it' kinda vibe. James said that she doesn't make him crazy like Lily, and he clearly held deep romantic feelings for Lily while dating Carlotta as we can see in the green apples scene and more. Jules just likes to write everything so vaguely and insinuated that I can see why their relationship was open for interpretation. I do agree it left bitter taste for Canon shippers.

Def up for interpretation! And I prob agree about “strong” feelings. But I just get protective of James when ppl are mad abt him taking a break from pining because….why does this boy not have the right to feel wanted?? Of COURSE Lily matters to him in a way Carlotta never has and never will, and yeah, i think he was trying to fool himself into thinking his feelings for car were stronger than they really were, but for six years, he had felt like he fundamentally wasnt good enough and would never be good enough for one of the ONLY two people whose opinions matter to him! Why shouldn’t he get to like and even fancy Carlotta, let the fact that she wants him back feel good? Doesn’t he have the right to keep trying w her even when things get messy, because dumping Carlotta would feel like admitting that he’s never going to not love a person who’s never going to love him??

Wow sorry lol, I…really love Tlat james potter

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

❉ 139 Dreams (Molag Bal) Fascination

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Suggestive 16+, Romance ☁

Word Count: 3,629 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Molag Bal ☁

World: Skyrim ☁

Author’s Note: Am I thirsty as fuck for Molag Bal? Yup. Do I regret writing this and showing off how thirsty I am for Molag Bal? Nope. Highly inspired by the sexy ass images found here. And yes, I know technically none of the Daedric Princes have been given definitive genders, but I don’t care. I view them as men and if you want to see them differently, you do you boo.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Thunder boomed loudly overhead, making you take pause as your eyes slid toward the darkening sky. You were currently on your way to Whiterun from Solitude, delivering an order of fancy clothes to Carlotta Valentia, who was hosting a party soon. Your mother had ordered you to do so, often using you as a free delivery service and offering you no choice nor reward for your efforts despite traversing dangerous roads in her name. You had mentioned borrowing the family’s horse in order to make the deliveries faster, but she didn’t want to risk her baby getting hurt.

‘Yet she sends her child across Skyrim with no protection,’ you scowled, kicking a rock to vent your frustrations. ‘What sense does that make?’

Thunder boomed again and with it came a sheet of rain. You cursed, doing your best to shield the bag of clothes with your body as you ran for cover beneath a large tree just off the road. What were you supposed to do now? If you continued on your journey, the clothes would surely be damp and possibly ruined, something you were sure Carlotta would not pay for. On the other hand, if you didn’t show up on time, she would report that to your mother who would then take out her anger on you again, which you knew would also happen if you delivered wet clothes.

‘No matter what, I lose here.’ You leaned your head back against the tree, closing your eyes as a headache began to throb at your temple. All you wanted was to be free, happy, but that was just a dream, you knew. If you ran away again, she would find you and make you pay dearly for wasting her time. The last time you had attempted to flee, she injured you so badly that you weren’t able to walk for a week.

A soft breeze ruffled your hair and you opened your eyes toward the sky. Despite the thunder still rumbling, the sun was now shining down on Skyrim. You waited a few moments to see if the rain would start up again before you decided to continue on your way, picking up your pace to make up for the lost time.

You made it to Whiterun without further incident. Though the bag had been a bit damp, the clothes inside of it were completely dry, much to your relief. You pocketed the two-hundred gold and started the trek back to Solitude but the closer you got to home, the more depressed you felt.

You had just reached the halfway point of your journey, just before Markarth, when you suddenly paused, turning your eyes to the sky. The sun was shining brightly, making you squint. “I don’t want to go home,” you muttered sadly.

“Then don’t,”

The deep, husky voice of a man startled you. You whipped around, eyes scanning around you for the source of the voice, but there were no signs of life, not even a deer or a rabbit. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

‘Have I gone mad?’ you wondered before shaking your head with a bitter chuckle. ‘No, my mind could never think up such a sexy voice like that.’ You continued on your way when the wind suddenly kicked up ominously.

“You dare to ignore me, mortal?”

You swallowed, realizing that the voice was, in fact, not in your head. “Who…who are you? Where are you?” Instinctively, your hand went to the dagger at your belt. It was a poor excuse for a weapon, but it was all you had to defend yourself with.

The man chuckled in a sultry tone and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I am the Daedric prince Molag Bal, lord of domination, god of Oblivion! And I want your soul.”

“My soul?” You breathed out. You knew you should feel afraid but… honestly, you didn’t. It couldn’t be any worse than what your mother puts you through, right?

“In exchange for your soul, mortal, I shall free you of the chains your woman has so tightly placed around your neck.”

“From one prison to another, huh.” You chuckled bitterly. “Forgive me for saying so, but that hardly seems like a fair trade.”

“You have some nerve, mortal, to dare speak to me in such a way.”

Your eyes slid closed and you forced your body to relax. “Just kill me and get it over with. Please,”

The voice was silent for a moment and you briefly wondered if you had been imagining the whole thing, and then he spoke again. “Hmm, fine. Let us come to a more… agreeable deal, then.”

Your brow furrowed. Why would a Daedric prince be willing to make a deal? “Like what?”

A black and purple cloud materialized before you, making you take a cautious step backward. Was he going to appear from that black hole? “There is a man that needs to be slain in my name, for he has been destroying my alters and smeared my name. He is a follower of Boethiah,” he spat the name as the smoke cleared to reveal a rusty spiked mace. “Take my mace and end his life. Show Boethiah that my followers are absolute and can not be bested.”

As if in a trance, your hand lifted toward the mace, head tilted to the side. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt, the metal surprisingly warm against your palm. It was quite heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle after constantly lugging around large bags of clothes. There was something… strange about this weapon, about this whole situation. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t fascinated, but there was something you just had to know. “This is a trap… isn’t it?”

Molag Bal chuckled, a deep sultry sound that reverberated in your head. “If you complete this task that I have assigned to you, mortal, I will allow you to walk away with your life. And then, you will be truly free, just as you desire. My mace will be yours, and with it, you will harvest the souls of every enemy you slay.”

Everything within you was screaming at you not to trust this Daedra. Anyone with half a brain knew better than to do so, but what did you have to lose really? Your hand tightened around the weapon. Despite how dangerous, how powerful, it felt within your grip, it also felt so right, like you were meant to wield it.

“Tell me,” you breathed out. “What is the man’s name?”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You stepped into the city of Falkreath, known for its expansive graveyard. The two itself was quite small, hosting only a couple of shops and homes. The guards watched you with weary gazes as you passed by, not knowing what your intentions may be. You offered them what you hoped to be an innocent-looking smile, not wanting any trouble from them.

You came to a stop in front of the inn, glancing up at the sign hanging above the door. ‘Dead Man’s Drink? How charming,’ The door creaked as you pushed it open, eyes scanning the inn. Only one patron was inside and he was passed out drunk against the table at the back of the room, snoring louder than anyone you had ever heard before.

Standing behind the counter was an Imperial woman with shoulder-length brown hair and matching eyes. She leaned forward on the counter, her hands flat on the wood. “Welcome to Dead Man’s Drink. We offer food for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, and sleep for the tired.” The words sounded so rehearsed as if she had repeated that same line dozens of times before, but you hadn’t been aware of Falkreath receiving that many visitors.

You approached the counter. “Hello, I was hoping you could help me locate a man named Hans Coralian. I believe he came through here quite recently.”

“A lot of people come through here,” she responded, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you looking for him?”

You glanced over your shoulder at the empty Inn, raising a brow. ‘I feel like that comment is a bit of a stretch,’ Your eyes met hers as you went over the options within your head. “He… He’s my father. I’ve been searching for him for such a long time, ever since my mama passed away…”

Her gaze softened considerably and she nodded. “Yes, he was in here two days ago, talking to some woman about something they needed to find, talking in real hushed voices.”

“You don’t know where he went, then?” You questioned, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“Maybe,” She closed her eyes in thought, folding her arms over her chest. “When I brought them a second round of mead, I heard them mention Knifepoint Ridge, just northwest of town, but I wouldn’t go there if I were you. It’s supposed to be home to a group of Daedra-worshippers. Real dangerous.”

You offered her a kind, thankful smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I can handle myself. Good day.” As you stepped out of the inn, your fingers brushed against the mace attached to your belt. Something about having that weapon just made you feel so safe, so powerful. You hadn’t felt that way in such a long time and it was a welcoming feeling.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You reached Knifepoint Ridge without issue.

As you climbed the hill, you quickly crouched down behind a large boulder when you heard people fighting up ahead. Peeking around, you noticed two men fist fighting in a circular ring surrounded by spiked wooden barricades. Several others stood around the ring and on the stone steps leading up the mountain, watching the fight with clear amusement.

“Who are you?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around with your back pressed against the boulder. Standing before you was a Dark Elf female and a Nord male, their eyes narrowed suspiciously. So much for the element of surprise. “Uh, well, I… I’m an adventurer, and I believe I got lost…”

The woman hummed, folding her arms across the black chest piece she wore. “We are lord Boethiah’s faithful. If you dare, you may test your mettle and join us in worship.”

‘Boethiah… well, at least I know I’m in the right place.’ You glanced at the Nord man. ‘He matches the description of Hans, too. It might be easier if I’m on the inside. Perhaps I can befriend him.’ Hesitantly, you nodded. “I’ve heard… great things about the Daedric prince Boethiah and, since the opportunity has presented itself to me, I wish to join you. Fate has brought me here and I shall answer its summons.”

She smiled slyly, licking her lips. “If it is so, and if Boethiah appears, then we will welcome you as one of us. If you wish to gain Boethiah’s attention, you must slay a thrall upon his shrine.” She pointed to the right, where a set of stone steps slowly curved upward, stopping where a tall statue stood on the edge.

‘A sacrifice? Where the hell am I meant to find someone to sacrifice?’ Your brow furrowed as you cautiously approached the steps, but a sudden, angry voice boomed across the open area, making everyone take pause.

“Defiler!” Roared a feminine voice. Suddenly, the Dark Elf started to seize, dropping to the ground and clutching at her chest. She gasped in agony before falling still. Several moments passed before her body stiffly rose up like a corpse from the grave, limbs unnaturally stiff and face contorted in rage as she looked upon you. “You DARE to bring that thing near my shrine?!” She wailed, pointing a finger at the mace. “Do you have ANY idea who I am, mortal?”

You opened your mouth to respond, to try and calm the raging Daedra by spinning a tale that you had simply found the mace and had no idea what it was or who it belonged to, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“Silence!” She snapped. “Do you know what we Daedra are, child?”

“You’re a god,” breathed one of the star-struck followers, his eyes wide as he looked upon his lord with awe. “Your voice, it’s so… beautiful, my lady!”

“I am a man, you foolish mortal.” Boethiah scowled as he waved his hand through the air. An invisible force flung the man backward, his body pierced on the spiked barricade behind him. “We Daedra are far more powerful than any god. And among my brethren, I am the most feared!”

Deep laughter echoed loudly throughout the clearing before a black and purple portal materialized beside you. You didn’t even have time to back away before a man stepped from the portal, standing at least two feet taller than you. His skin was midnight blue, white symbols etched across his chest and arms, and two sets of curved horns, similar to a goat’s but much thicker, jutted out from either side of his head. Eyes the shade of red rubies shined under the moonlight as he looked upon Boethiah with amusement, placing a clawed hand on his hip. His hair was short and messy, and as black as a raven’s feathers.

You couldn’t help but stare at him, your cheeks turning red. ‘He’s so gorgeous…’

“Dear Boethiah,” He drawled. “You are the most feared? Don’t make me laugh. You’re the least feared among us and you know it.” The corner of his lips tugged up into a smirk as he witnessed the rising anger within his face. “You’ve been sending your foolish little followers to destroy my shrines, leaving me with only two left. Now I will do the same to you. While your chosen champion hides out deep within the mountain like a coward, my champion will destroy your influence!” His eyes snapped to you and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “Y/N, I command you to take my mace and destroy the shrine!”

Your body reacted on its own, turning and taking off for the stairs before your brain could comprehend what was happening. You pulled the mace from your belt when Boethiah screamed out in anger, giving chase.

Molag Bal intersected him and he sneered. “With only two shrines, both of which are so very far away from this location, your power is weak, brother. You can not best me, Molag Bal!” The body he was in started to expand and morph, growing until it was the same height as Molag Bal’s. His skin darkened to the color of the midnight sky with hair as white as freshly fallen snow, flowing to his knees like silk. His eyes, completely white and full of anger, snapped to you.

You were halfway to the shrine when he appeared before you, swiping at you with his hand, nails as sharp as nails. With a squeak of surprise, you barely managed to dodge the attack but your foot slipped out from beneath you and you hit the stone, your wrist twisting at an unnatural angle. It was painful, but the adrenaline coursing through your body like fire kept the pain mostly at bay.

You scrambled to your feet as he tried to grab you, his nails slicing open your arm as you dodged his grip, stumbling up the stairs like a toddler who had only just learned to walk. There was only one thing running through your mind – destroy the shrine.

‘Just as lord Molag Bal ordered,’ you thought. A part of you didn’t want to let him down, but you didn’t know if that was because you hoped he would save you from your mother, or simply because you had fallen under his spell. It was probably a bit of both, to be fair.

Boethiah grabbed the back of your leather armor and tugged hard, pulling you back toward him. You cried out, trying to grip the stone beneath you but he was much stronger than you and you no longer had feeling in your right wrist. “This is where you die, mortal!”

A thick red fog filled the air, making it impossible to see more than arm’s length in front of you. Boethiah howled in pain from behind you, his grip loosening on your shirt. You could feel the will of Molag Bal urging you forward and with a cry, you mustered up all of your strength and pushed forward, feeling the leather tear and the cool night air hit the exposed skin of your back. You were breathing heavily as you booked it the rest of the way up the stairs, the mace poised to strike as you zeroed in on the statue.

“No!!”

Just as the mace made contact with the stone, you felt a sharp pain in your side, a cry escaping your lips as blood splattered to the ground around you. Using all of your fear, the pent up rage, and now the pain coursing through you, you raised the mace and struck the statue again. Chunks of stone exploded from the statue, flying in all directions. You closed your eyes on instinct and continued to strike at it until there was barely anything left.

Boethiah screamed from somewhere behind you, a scream so loud it made your ears ring, and the last thing you saw was a brilliant explosion of light, and then nothing.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“Ow, my head…” A groan slipped past your lips as you came to, slowly opening your eyes. The room you were in was small, lit by the soft orange glow of cream-colored candles. They were nearly fully melted, offering only a few hours more of light. You shifted your body, feeling straw and leather beneath you. ‘This is definitely a bedroom, but… it’s not mine.’ You struggled to remember the last place you had been, but your memory was coming up blank.

The wooden floorboards creaked as a man wearing a dark robe entered the room, carrying a tray with two mugs of milk and some steaming bread. You could just barely make out his smile from beneath the hood. “It’s about time you awoke. I worried you would sleep the whole day away.” His voice was deep and aroused something familiar within you. He carefully set the tray on the table beside the bed before resting his hand upon your forehead. “Your fever is gone, that’s good.”

As he pulled away, you noticed the rich blue tone of his skin. Your brow furrowed in confusion. “I… I’m sorry, but… who are you?”

He looked upon you with surprise. “Do you not remember me, my love? Well, no matter. I’m sure it’s just the side effect of your illness.” The man smiled charmingly and reached out to stroke your cheek. “I am your husband, Mikel.”

“Mikel…” you whispered, hoping if you tasted the name on your tongue, it would awaken your memory, but nothing happened. Your brow furrowed in frustration. “Where are we?”

“Our home in Markarth,” he answered, taking your face between his large hands. “Trying to force your memory will do more harm than good. You should rest.” You seemed unsure about this, so he leaned down and claimed your lips with his. It felt like a fire erupted within you, flowing through your entire body like lava and it felt… amazing. Like nothing you had ever felt before.

A moan slipped past your lips and he smirked as he pulled back.

“Rest, my love.”

Your hand shot out, tightly grasping his robe to prevent him from standing up. “No,”

“No?” he quirked a brow, red eyes shining with amusement. “You dare to defy your husband, Y/N?”

“Stay with me,” you begged breathlessly. The fire was beginning to face and you wanted more, needed more. “Please,”

His tongue slowly slid across his plump lower lip as he shifted to hover his body over your own. “How could I dare deny such a request from my most treasured?” His voice was husky and low, reverberating around your brain. You clutched at his body, trying to bring him closer but he didn’t budge. “Now now, my dear Y/N.” He chastised, pulling your hands away so he could pin them both above your head, easily holding them with one hand. He hummed, pleased at the way your body yearned for his touch, slowly sliding his hand down your side. “We should take our time and savor our first union together, don’t you agree?”

You couldn’t respond, too pre-occupied with the firey haze that had invaded your mind. No one had ever had such an effect on you before and your body couldn’t handle it. It felt like you were losing your mind.

He clicked his tongue before letting his hand dip between your legs. The way your body arched into such a simple touch fascinated him and he wanted to find every single tic your body would offer to his ministrations.

Leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear, warm breath creating goosebumps across your flesh. “Say my name, Y/N.”

“Mikel – ”

“My real name,” he growled, tightening his grip on your wrists.

You moaned as pain mixed with pleasure. Images flashed through your mind so quickly, you could only see bits and pieces, but a name stood out among all of the images. Your voice was breathy as you met his red eyes, shimmering with want and amusement. “Molag Bal…”

He smirked, showing off a set of sharp fangs. “You are mine, Y/N, in every sense of the word. Do not forget that.”

Your only response was a sharp intake of breath as his body pressed flush against your own, bringing his lips down to claim yours in a heated kiss. His body pinned you to the bed, making it difficult to breathe, but you had no objections to offer.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

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findinghiddenisles · 5 years

Note

"No! Please dont take me away!"

I took this and ran screaming, screaming, okay?? @sirsparkzalot I hope you like it!!

"No! Please don’t take me away!"

She cried, her arms being held back. The strength of her once childhood friend being used against her. They tried dragging her back but she was fighting against him, all of them, hard. Kicking, and screaming, anything to get away from them or to get them to listen to her.

But, she wasn’t focused on them. No, she was focused on the bloody and beaten man in front of her. Her angel, her love, before her, his hands tied behind his back and forced to his knees.

She had tried for weeks to get him to show himself. Learning him, speaking to him, to get him to trust her enough so that she could finally learn his touch and see the man she loved.

She hated that glass, that wretched mirror. It had kept them apart for so long, so much time lost.

But, it was the place of their first kiss. The place where she had pressed her lips to his through the mirror, feeling the warmth of his breath against the cold surface.

It was the place where he finally revealed himself, told her of his face, where they first made love atop velvet curtains glowing in candlelight. Where everything felt so warm, so good.

But, now, all she felt was the bitter cold and the bite of their hands around her arms.

She finally kicked free, their grips loosening in her violent undulations. She grabbed her skirts, her hair loose from her exertions and threw herself to the side of her love, her Erik. She wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him to her chest so he could ease his muscles. She felt him sigh, breathing heavily. She shielded his back where they had so violently assaulted him, curling herself around him.

If they were to harm him, again, they would have to harm her as well. She stared Raoul down, breathing hard. Mud, dirt, tears and hatred smearing her face.

“I may have once shed a tear for your dark fate, a fate of unrequited love, but those warm waters have now grown cold and turn to tears of hate.”

Christine did not mean to wax poetic, but she did. Raoul paused, fury making his mustache quiver.

“He is a monster, a beast! Look at him! He almost has no face, a corpse walking! He stole from and swindled the Opera Managers, lay cruel life threatening tricks against Carlotta, and threatened the patrons.”

“What proof, besides a few letters, do you have?”

“It is proof enough! He will pay for his deeds. I will make sure of it.”

She let out a cry, trying to prevent a sob, trying to claw down the desperation and fear growing within her.

“But, does he deserve death? Do I deserve death, as well? My soul will truly turn to dust if you take him from me.”

“Maybe, you deserve all that you get because you chose to love him instead of me. A whore to a monster!” The cruel words of Raoul, the slur so used against women, shattered her calm.

“Men, remove her. The gendarmes shall be here soon. I’ve bought his execution!”

“No!” She screamed.

But, then, the stomping of too many horses burrowed into her ear drums and everything stilled. She looked down at the man in her arms, the love of her life, her angel of music.

He gave her a hopeless smile, throwing his voice and whispering an apology. For lying to her. For being afraid. For not preventing this. She brought her fingers to his lips, cleaning the blood a little bit, before placing her lips over his, taking his bottom lip between hers. She left her eyes slightly open, hooded, taking in the image of him kissing her. She kept kissing him, as he did her, murmuring their final words of love into each other’s mouths. Promises to meet again in another life.

She felt the horses stop, the rush of breaths. She pulled back and held his face, staring into his discolored eyes.

“Raoul de Changy, you and your cohorts are under arrest for the bribery of state officials, the kidnapping of Christine Daaé and the attempted murder of the family member of a foreign dignitary. You are hereby called to….” The words blurred into another as Christine whipped around to see the familiar face of a Persian man sitting astride a white horse behind the Captain of the Police.

She recognized him, having seen him lurk in the Opera. A gasp below her brought her back to attention.

Do not fear, my sweet. He is a friend. He has saved us. We are safe. Her Erik whispered in her ear. She leaned forward over his back to reach his wrists and release the ropes. He pulled himself free and gathered her in his arms, hiding his face in her curls, soothing her and himself as they cried into each other.

She saw out of the corner of her eye, a figure move toward them and she tensed. Relaxing, when her angel rubbed her neck. It was just the man Erik spoke of, no one else. As she got closer, she smelled the graceful scent of jasmine.

The tall brown-skinned man who smelled of flowers carefully slipped Erik a white mask, she learned forward and helped him tie it behind his head, noticing him wince when he raised his arms.

The Persian man placed his hand on her shoulder, patting it in a brotherly gesture of affection. He learned forward slightly.

“I told you these games would get you into trouble. Have you finally learned to listen to me?”

Christine laughed into Erik’s neck, tiredness coloring the sound.

Yes, Nadir, dear brother, I believe I have.

#e/c #e\c #Erik x Christine #erik and christine #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #myworks #mywriting #findinghiddenisles #asks #findinghiddenisles phics

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whatzaoverwatch · 4 years

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The Reaper of the Opera Chapter 5: Prima Donna

Fun Fact: the part of Carlotta was originally going to be Ashe to represent the bratty side. But I felt to uphold the diva side of the character, with reputation and having Reinhardt being a fan, was more suited to Hana.

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Managers Office/Morning

A disgruntled Torbjorn entered the office, newspaper in hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Still waking up as he slumped over to his desk in exhaustion. The article that covered the page was the review of the prior performance. “A new star rises in the Overwatch Opera House! The final curtain call for Hana Song?” was written in bold. He merely read parts of it, finding that the backup plan had been a rightful success. Taking his seat, he spotted an unfamiliar note resting on the mahogany desk. A familiar skull print concealing the content inside put a sour look on his face. Sipping his coffee so he could read the inevitable. Tossing the newspaper aside, he picked up the note knowing this was from their so-called associate. Reluctantly opening it, he began to read the passage inside.

“A greeting to Mr. Lindholm. As much as I wish you my highest praises, I am afraid you have not gained my respect. I have been patient with you and your comrade as you are not quite familiar with the rules of my Opera House,” The bearded man huffed in bitterness, “I shall demand for my salary once more by the end of the month. Should these instructions not be followed, I am afraid darker days will approach you swiftly. – R.”

A lack of surprise evident on his face, he tosses the note away into the trash. “Of all the damn things to show up. First [Name] disappears now this? The things I have to put up with to fulfill a friends’ dream. If this is a mere prank by someone I’ll-“

“TORBJORN!” A shout from the entryway alerts the man as Reinhardt storms in with a paper in hand. Startling the smaller man to spill some of his coffee, “IT IS A CATASTROPHE!”

“Reinhardt! Do not shout so early in the morning,” He scolded his friend. Cursing at the now ruined suit. Trying to clean it off with anything, he looked over to the disheveled giant to see what he held, “I see that you also have received a letter.”

“Indeed!” He clears his throat as he began to read the words, “A greeting to you Mr. Wilhelm. I must continue my praise for selecting Lady [Name] as our songstress and leaving Lady Hana in the wings. I implore that you continue to cast Lady [Name] as the star for that will bring you fair fortune. While I also continue my instructions to leave Box 5 closed for no visitors, regardless on how much you sell. Finally, I must ask you to tell your hard-headed companion that my salary must be due. I do not wish to lay any curses upon you, but further denial shall leave me no choice. -R.”

“Hard-headed!? Me?! The damn bastard can show his face and say that himself instead of writing these damn letters!” Torbjorn slammed his fist in the table bitterly. Reinhardt nearly startled by his actions attempts to calm him.

“Torbjorn! May I remind you the last time you damned this writer injured Hana?” He was quick to say as he looked around the room in a panic, “How can we put on a show if we do not even have our new star??”

“I do not know maybe you should ask this R person for that insight!?” Torbjorn rose from his seat, walking towards Reinhardt to take in the letter, “What kind of a man would demand such things?”

“R…” Reinhardt gasped suddenly as if he had put two and two together, “You do not think it is that Reaper of the Opera Miss Oxton spoke of is it?”

“Oh, so ghosts can now write in ink. That’s just perfect,” Tossing the note away, he paced back and forth in thought, “Some kind of man that pretends to be a ghost so he can get a bit more money than the rest of us. This has that stage handlers name written all over it. Sabotage my a-“

“Where is she???” Another voice entered the room. Drawing the two men towards the door to a concerned Genji.

Hand on the door wearing a long coat from the weather outside. Catching his breath for just a moment as if he had just ran. Reinhardt and Torbjorn exchanged glances before Torbjorn glared at the new face.

“And who are you?” He asked, crossing his arms. Allowing Genji to compose himself before giving a respectful bow.

“Forgive me, my name is Genji Shimada.” Introducing himself before them. Reinhardt scratched his beard with a hum.

“Shimada, as in the infamous Shimada clan from Hanamura?”

“They very one.” Genji was reluctant to say.

“Ah yes, Sojiro Shimada was once a patron to the Opera House many years ago.” Reinhardt stated, watching as Genji straightened himself up.

“I am surprised that you are familiar with my father.” Genji confessed to Reinhardt.

Torbjorn turned to the larger man, wondering how he knew of that only for Reinhardt to explain, “I have looked into the history of the Opera House long before we have taken control, my friend. I have a passion for more than the stage you know.”

“There’s a lot you take in that I will never understand.”

“Forgive the intrusion, but I still need to know where she is.” Genji pleaded to the two men. Worry growing in his eyes for answers. The two men exchanged glances at each other.

“If you are looking for Lady Hana, she is not here right now.” Torbjorn answered, watching as Genji shook his head at the response.

“I am not looking for Hana I am looking for [Name]! Miss [Name & Last Name].” putting his hands into his pocket to reach for a note of his own, “Forgive if it goes against the note you had written to me.”

“A note???” Reinhardt gaped looking to the skull print on the letter. Torbjorn scowled at the familiar print.

“That is not from us. Seems this R has nothing better to do than to write damn letters,” Looking at the puzzled young man, he pointed to the paper, “What does it say?”

“To the young and naive Genji Shimada. Do not fear for Lady [Name], the Angel of Music has taken her under his wing. Make no effort or attempts to see her again. – R,” Genji grimaced at the note, raising his gaze to the two of them, “Are you certain this is not your doing? Keeping your stars away from speaking to people is one thing, but calling me naive for it is rather uncivilized.”

“Mr. Shimada, I assure you we had nothing to do with that letter!” Reinhardt assured with a hand on his shoulder. Trying to provide some comfort despite no clue where [Name] even was. The silence once more was cut by a noise outside the door.

“Where are they!?” A womanly shout was heard, the screech all too familiar for the older men. Brushing past Genji, Reinhardt and Torbjorn hurried to the main hall.

Standing with a crutch in her grasp, a limping Hana looked around with a pout on her pink stripped cheeks. Her hair tied up in two loose buns on top of her head. Dressed in a dress of pink and blue, trying to upkeep her vision despite injury. A careful Lucio by her side as she squirmed. Spotting the two men once they entered. Her brows furrowed, pointing at them with absolute disgust.

“How dare you write me this note! Do you have any idea how much I contribute to this Opera House??” She demanded, trying to approach but struggling against the limb. Looking to Lucio to help her in her situation. He took a deep sigh, taking her arm over his shoulders to help her move, “Mr. Morrison never showed such disrespect to me. If you wished to speak such rotten things you should’ve said it to my face!”

“Another note??” Torbjorn groaned, rubbing his temple from the growing stress from this situation. Genji approached the group with upmost confusion. Reinhardt panicking as he approached the young woman. Hands clasped together for forgiveness.

“Dearest Hana, what is this note you say we had written?” He asked, receiving a ‘hmph’ from the diva.

“Don’t make me a fool, you knew what you had written! Lucio, read it.” Lucio reached into his pocket to another skull printed letter, beginning to read before the group.

“Lady Hana, your days at the Overwatch Opera House are numbered. Lady [Name] shall be taking your place from now on,” Lucio read, Hana curling her lip to [Name]s name in disgust, “Should you take her place at any given chance little rabbit, you shall be forever silenced. -R. Man, that is way too cold.”

“Lady Hana, my dearest song,” Reinhardt implores, taking her hand gently for comfort, “Torbjorn and I can assure we had nothing to do with that note.”

“All these damn letters all about [Name], it is almost as if they are all for her��” Torbjorn grumbled, walking towards Reinhardt as he tried to comfort the songstress. Genji shook his head in disbelief of the groups growing arguments.

“But what about-“He began to say only to hear the sound of a cane behind him.

One he had recalled from his past with [Name]. A flash of memories to times where you two had caused mischief. The sound of it was a memory he wasn’t all too fond of. Turning to face the stern look of Ana Amari with Fareeha by her side with patience.

“Lady [Name] has returned.” Ana announced to the group. All eyes drawn to her from the sudden news. Genji felt a waver of relief as the two men blinked in surprise. Hana not at all pleased by the annoucement.

“Where is she now?” Torbjorn asked before Genji could. Watching Ana approach the group with a grip of her cane.

“In her room, she is resting as we speak.” She informed, letting their concerns subside for the moment. Genji placed a hand on the womans’ shoulder with a soft look.

“May I see her?” He asked, receiving a stern look from the woman. Seeing something strange in the way she looked at him. The glimmer fading away when she shook her head.

“I am afraid she will see no one,” Walking away from Genji, she rummaged through her pocket for something, “But I have one more thing…”

“Let me guess, another note?” Torbjorn asked as a mere joke, smirking to the people around him. Thinking it wasn’t the case until Ana pulled out a note with a raised eyebrow. Slumping at the realization with a grunt, “…of course…”

The group turned to Ana as she opened the note to read before them all.

“I have sent several notes on my behalf as to how MY Opera Company should be run. Given as you have drawn my patience, this shall be your final chance,” A flicker in the lights came about, as you could almost hear the haunting whispers of The Reaper. Every word being spoken as if you could observe him writing it before your very eyes. His eyes fixated upon a black rose before he concealed his note with the skull print, “Lady [Name] has returned and I am anxious to see her career progress. In your newest production, you shall put Lady Hana as the silent role, and our dear Lady [Name] as the lead. A role fitting the both of them respectfully. I shall see the performance in my reserved Box 5. Should these instructions be ignored, I will not hesitate to deploy a disaster far beyond your control upon the theatre. – R.”

A tense air filling the room as Ana finished the note. Lowering it to the unease before each of their faces. Genji feeling this concern over your safety. Reinhardt filled with absolute fear as even Torbjorn held some uncertainty. Lucio couldn’t hide the shiver down his back as he held Hana. Hana finally making her words clear with a huff.

“I see what is going on…ever since these two showed up now we are being told what to do left and right,” Gripping her crutch, turning to face the door. Pulling away from Lucio to move, “It’s all about [Name]! Nothing but [Name]! I worked hard to where I am and now? I am being cast aside like dirt!? I shall do this R one better; I know where I stand, and the papers say so too. I am leaving!”

“Lady Hana! Wait!” Reinhardt pleaded running to her side. Taking her free hand before she could escape. Falling to his knees and begging, “Do not leave us! We need you here! Torbjorn, talk some sense into her!”

Turning to his friend, puppy dog eyes welling up, Torbjorn knew that he couldn’t turn away his friends pleas. Not seeing the near relief in Lucio and Fareehas eyes at the thought of Hana leaving for good. Approaching the young woman, he takes her hand with comfort.

“Lady Hana, we can assure you that we do not take orders from anyone,” Patting her hand gently, he noticed the frustrated tears stinging the young girls eyes, “Damn to all of these notes, Lady [Name] will take the silent role as you take the lead.”

“But Mr. Lindholm,” Ana approached with a bit of caution in her voice, “The Angel of Musics words are certain. If you disobey…”

“To hell with this Angel or R or Reaper OR WHATEVER!’ He barked with certainty, “When I bought this Opera House, I did it simply to fulfill the dreams of a comrade who saved my life.”

“Torbjorn…” Reinhardt spoke softly looking upon the wounds that still remained on them both from their history. The shorter man shaking away the sentimental to focus on Hana, he shook her hand sincerely.

“I didn’t pay with my retirement funds just to have some no face tell me what to do. Our words are certain, our words are absolute. You WILL be our star Hana! Not [Name]. Not now and not ever again!”

Genji looked discouraged at that final statement. Knowing he had wished to hear you sing once again. Looking to Ana and the tightened grip on her cane. Even Lucio and Fareeha seemed down from the news. Hana sniffled in her tears, trying to wipe them away with a hiccup.

“Y-You really mean it?”

“You have my word, Lady Song, the voice of the Overwatch Opera House.” He comforted her, noticing Reinhardt approaching to give her a handkerchief. She took with a thank you before blowing into it. Her smile returning once more.

“Okay…I will do it.” She agreed, nodding with excitement as the two men escorted her away.

“Wonderful! The show must go on! We shall find a way for you to perform even with your injury.” Reinhardt shouted, his happy spirit returning once more. Leaving the remainder of the group behind to wallow in the inevitable. Lucio knew he had to follow behind, especially when Hana called for him in a sing song tune. Giving the rest of the group a shrug before leaving.

Ana turned around as she noticed the discouraged Genji. He suddenly felt her delicate fingers lifting his chin up to inspect his features. Leaving him stiff before the older woman.

“I’ve seen your eyes before. You are Sojiros youngest are you not? The one who played with Lady [Name].” Narrowing her gaze with a sly look. He merely nodded to her suspicions.

“I am. I see you are still the same as ever Madame Amari.” He confessed, watching her step away slowly.

“Staying out of trouble I hope?” She smirked, recalling the time when she had to scold him and you. He simply chuckled, rubbing his neck nervously.

“On my best behaviour...I promise.” Impressed by the change in the younger one, she knew of his reasons for being here.

“She asked for you, by the way. Wondering if you had looked for her.” His awkward position straightening at her words.

“I did…I was worried that she had no desire to see me until I found the note. Forgive me if it is selfish, but I only wish to know if she is ok.” Watching her tap her finger carefully, unable to read the old womans mind after so long. Looking at him carefully, she nodded in understanding.

“You are a good man; you always placed her needs before your own. I can assure you that she is well, so long as she rests. But I still humbly suggest you take these notes to heart,” She warned, Fareeha looking to Genji at her mothers words, “I do not wish for your heart to be broken once more, Shimada.”

He was confused by her warning. Wondering if these notes held true to their warnings. Whatever could this R do in order to keep you in the spotlight. Left with the ambiguity, she began to leave with Fareeha following suit.

“Wait,” He halted her escape, still not satisfied that he couldn’t see you, “Can you at least give her my best wishes? I will attend the next show, no matter what role she will partake in.”

Looking over her shoulder, she eyed the young man before nodding at his request.

“Of course...send a greeting to your brother on my behalf, Genji.” Leaving the young Shimada to leave on his own.

He took to the exit of the Opera House. Reaching for the door handle until he felt a cold chill in the wind. The lights flickering once more before his eyes. For a moment, he felt as if someone was behind him. A shadow looming over his figure, almost as if he was being watched. A hand slowly reaching for the back of his neck. A hiss escaping a cloud with red eyes. Swiftly turning around, he found himself still alone at the entrance. Brushing away the doubt when the lights returned to normal. Making his leave to the outside. The door closing behind him. The shadows that hid themselves lingered back inside the theatre.

To be continued

#Overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch au #overwatch scenarios #overwatch imagines #torbjorn lindholm #reinhardt wilhelm #genji shimada #genji #genji shimada x reader #only a Shimada can control these tags #hana song #lucio correia dos santos #ana amari #pharah

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acrostical · 4 years

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Safe Haven

On December 8, 1941—the day after “a date which will live in infamy”—then-president Aurelia Henry Reinhardt wrote a letter to all Mills families. With the hindsight of nearly 80 years, it’s a surreal read; the main point of the letter was not to offer solace or organize war efforts, but to reassure parents that the Mills campus was unlikely to face any danger from a Japanese attack. “The English Channel is 26 miles wide; New York is 3,500 miles from Europe; California is 5,500 miles from Japan and 2,500 miles from our nearest possession in the Hawaiian group,” she wrote. “May I assure you that there exists no reason to change in any way the schedule and curriculum of this college in the spring term which begins Monday, January 5.”

At that point, no one knew that many students of Japanese descent would soon opt to leave Mills, hoping to avoid separation from their families as they were forced into internment camps across the United States. In the years leading up to World War II, President Reinhardt had approached a number of European artists and intellectuals to offer them a place at Mills as the Third Reich marched across the continent and sent to concentration camps anyone it deemed a threat, including Darius Milhaud and other notable figures in the College’s history, but that welcoming spirit couldn’t protect some of her own students.

When it comes to political and cultural forces outside the campus gates, the College has historically been limited in what it can do to protect its students. But as an institution, Mills has long welcomed members of marginalized communities, and outside restrictions have not altered the campus culture of acceptance.

In recent years, the term “sanctuary” has become a buzzword in our charged political environment. But in a historical sense, the concept originated with the sacred. In ancient Greece, spaces that honored the gods provided some measure of immunity to individuals escaping laws of the state (with limited success), and in Rome, Romulus established a zone on Capitoline Hill where asylum seekers from other places could find refuge. For centuries, places of worship have operated as spaces where people could take shelter, and it’s still happening today—churches around the world house migrants seeking to avoid deportation back to war-torn homelands.

The idea of sanctuary gained popularity in the United States in the 1980s when Central Americans began to flee their home countries in the wake of civil unrest, but Mills took on the responsibility of offering it 60 years earlier in the early days of World War II. In the 1961 book Aurelia Henry Reinhardt: Portrait of a Whole Woman, Chaplain George Hedley wrote that President Reinhardt contacted the Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced German Scholars (later Foreign Scholars) to invite intellectuals to Mills as soon as Hitler took power in Germany in 1933. Hedley noted that legends were told of Reinhardt physically transporting those scholars to campus herself.

A number of professors soon made their way to Oakland, including Alfred Neumeyer, who taught art history and directed what was then the Art Gallery, and the married couple Bernhard Blume and Carlotta Rosenberg. A German playwright, Bernhard headed up the German Department at Mills until 1945, and Rosenberg was a proponent of educating workers and women.

Of course, the most well-known Mills expats were the musician Darius Milhaud and his wife, Madeleine. In speaking with the author Roger Nichols in 1991, Madeleine detailed her family’s reaction when the Nazis entered Paris in June 1940: “We knew… that Milhaud was among the first on a list of intellectuals to be arrested because he was well known in Germany as a Jewish composer, and also because he did not share their right-wing ideals.”

The Milhauds made their way to Lisbon with plans to fly to New York, using an invitation from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra to obtain visas. But upon arrival in Portugal, their plane tickets were declared invalid because they had been bought with French francs. The three—Darius, Madeleine, and their son—were just about to board an American freighter to cross the Atlantic when a telegram arrived with an offer to teach at Mills. The San Francisco-based French conductor Pierre Monteux had contacted President Reinhardt after learning that Milhaud was fleeing to America and connected the two.

Milhaud cabled his acceptance of the position and, a few months after arriving on campus, Dean of Faculty Dean Rusk (later US Secretary of State during the Vietnam War) wrote to the State Department to plead his case for Milhaud’s continued residency in the United States, which hinged on his history of contribution to the arts. Milhaud taught on and off at Mills from 1940 until 1971.

Milhaud’s influence on the Music Department (and the rest of the College) is well known, though he was not the only academic who molded Mills in indelible ways during this time. Helene Mayer, a champion German fencer at the 1928 Olympics, was studying at Scripps College when Hitler rose to power in her home country. She then enrolled at Mills for a master’s in French. While on campus studying for her MA and, later, teaching German literature, she founded the Mills College Fencing Club, jump-starting an organization that lasted for decades. And it’s to the credit of these scholars that the German Department at Mills built a strong enough foundation to eventually send many of its students abroad as Fulbright scholars.

The situation with students of Japanese descent was not nearly as easy to solve, however, with President Franklin D. Roosevelt establishing internment camps less than three months after the Pearl Harbor attack.

Alumnae who were at Mills during the attack remember that day as a sunny one, with word of the incident filtering in as they arrived back in their residence halls after Sunday chapel service. Japanese American students soon found their freedoms curtailed bit by bit, starting with an Army-ordered curfew that restricted their movement even on the Mills campus.

May Ohmura Watanabe ’44, who was born in California to American citizens, wrote about her experiences in multiple issues of the Quarterly. “I remember Dr. Hedley, the chaplain, was very upset and angry. I can still feel his hand tightly holding mine, his body slightly bent forward as he hurried to look at the curfew proclamation posted on the telephone pole just outside the campus,” she wrote in 1985. “He even took me to the Army’s headquarters in San Francisco to protest and to state his disbelief. All in vain.”

Watanabe soon left Mills and returned home to Chico so that she wouldn’t be sent to a different internment camp than her parents and brother. She spent a year at the Tule Lake Relocation Center near the Oregon border, then was released as part of a program allowing some detainees to work or attend school in special approved zones. Watanabe was allowed to transfer her credits to Syracuse University, where she studied nursing. “I remember the special arrangements Mills made for me before evacuation to take my exams in Chico supervised by my high school dean,” she wrote.

The late Grace Fujii Kikuchi ’42 made a similar choice to leave Mills to avoid separation from her family. As a senior, she was more easily able to bring her time at Mills to a close, though it wasn’t a happy time. “My professors at Mills had arranged for me to take my [exam] at a nearby high school,” she wrote in the same Quarterly issue. “All I know is that I was graduated in absentia with my class. Not to be able to attend my commencement after four hard years of work was a bitter disappointment to me.”

The frustrations of the Mills administration during this era were captured in a play by Catherine Ladnier ’70, which she based on actual letters President Reinhardt received from students who left the College due to World War II, including Japanese American students in internment camps. Titled A Future Day of Radiant Peace, the play details the personal turmoil these students experienced as they abandoned their bustling lives at Mills for the uncertainty of the camps. It also demonstrates what little power anyone on campus had to prevent the exodus.

In the aftermath of the war, however, Mills was able to provide sanctuary to several students whose home countries were suffering. Catherine Cambessedes Colburn ’47 and Noramah Sumakno Peksopoetranto ’56 traveled to the College from France and Indonesia, respectively. In the spring 1997 issue of the Quarterly, Colburn wrote about the strangeness of going from a country recovering from war to a land of plenty.

“Mills had sent a list of what I would need, and I owned next to none of the items, nor could I get them. Coupons, given out rarely, were required to buy anything. Besides, the stores were next to empty,” she wrote. “I exchanged my wine ration with a friend for her fabric coupon and my cigarette ration with another for hers, and got enough material for two clothing items.”

Peksopoetranto earned her opportunity to attend Mills through a one-year scholarship from the Edward H. Hazen Foundation. At the end of the year, Dean Anna Hawkes offered her room and board for a bachelor’s degree in education; she spent that summer staying in the home of Librarian Elizabeth Reynolds.

On October 29, 2018—two days after 11 were killed in a shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—President Elizabeth L. Hillman sent an email to the Mills community. In it, she harkened back to the College’s history of providing sanctuary to Jewish scholars during World War II and the inspiration they provided to generations of students. “Higher education institutions like Mills have a special role to play in creating and sharing knowledge across boundaries of faith, race, gender, and background,” she wrote. “We can only fulfill our mission when everyone in our community is safe, respected, and able to grow and learn.”

In the last few years, President Hillman has sent a number of similar emails to the campus community after attacks, in the United States and abroad, that have targeted historically marginalized groups. According to Dean of Students Chicora Martin, the typical campus response finds its roots in Mills history. “Whenever an incident happens, we’re among a community where people may not always know what to do, but they are prepared to do something,” they said. “It’s part of our culture.”

“In times of immense crisis and identity-based violence, there is this depth of emotion and despair, but also a desire to be in community,” says Dara Olandt, campus chaplain and director of spiritual and religious life. “It has been very moving for me to see the ways in which students have offered leadership and shown up for each other.”

Olandt attributes the campus-wide attitude of acceptance and protection to the College’s past religiosity—in particular, President Reinhardt was the first woman moderator of the American Unitarian Association. (Olandt herself was ordained by the Unitarian Universalist church.) The chapel “is a refuge, and a place of deep hospitality. That’s what the forebears [who created] this chapel were really about,” Olandt says. ��There’s power in this symbolic place where people are welcome in the fullness of their lives, no matter their identities.”

She also counsels those who travel to Mills from outside the country and hail from distinctly different societal and religious backgrounds than their US-born peers. That demographic has naturally been part of the student body for decades, but provides a different set of challenges due to the requirements of F-1 and J-1 student entry visas. Dean Martin serves as the principal designated school official on the Mills campus, so they are the first point of contact for the US government. “Every year, we have someone who can’t make it here because they can’t get a visa,” they say. “There are lots of restrictions with international students, and there’s a lot of documentation that you have to provide just for them to do normal-ish things, like getting a Social Security card or a driver’s license.”

Over the last four years, the legal status of undocumented students has been called into question across the country, and as a Hispanic Serving Institution, Mills has been prompted to respond. Under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, which began in 2012, undocumented immigrants who arrived in the US before they turned 18 could be granted renewable two-year periods where they would not be deported. When Donald Trump was elected to the presidency, he pledged to end the program—and set off a chain reaction at colleges and universities across the country, which became known as the “sanctuary campus” movement.

On November 16, 2016, President Hillman was one of hundreds of signatories to the Statement in Support of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) Program, which underscored the contributions that its recipients have made to college communities across the country. “America needs talent—and these students, who have been raised and educated in the United States, are already part of our national community,” the statement reads. “They represent what is best about America, and as scholars and leaders they are essential to the future.”

Hillman also joined with more than two dozen college leaders in December 2017 as founding members of the Presidents’ Alliance on Higher Education and Immigration, which advocates for fair treatment of DACA and international students, and she continues to contribute to amicus briefs compiled by the alliance on behalf of DACA students.

In practical terms, Martin says that Mills provides grants to affected DACA students to cover the legal paperwork required to renew their statuses, and the College will provide financial assistance to any undocumented student in the same amount the student would have received from a Pell Grant, which is a federal program and therefore off-limits to non-citizens.

But in terms of sanctuary? If immigration officials asked Mills to turn over student records, the College is theoretically protected by the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA), which prohibits the disclosure of student information, including immigration status, to parties beyond those that need to know for the purposes of that student’s education. Nothing like that has happened yet, but administrators say that it’s really not the point. The last few years have, in the end, cemented the kind of institution Mills wants to be.

“We were asking questions about our own values. The government’s now actively not supporting [these] students, so we have to come out very strongly with concrete statements and actions that clarify for our community where our values lie,” Martin says.

“Aurelia Reinhardt was deeply motivated by her values, which had roots in her religious and spiritual background,” Olandt adds. “She was very much anchored in a spirit of service and what we call today solidarity with marginalized folks. How can we uphold the best of humanity and live a moral and ethical life in the face of challenge?”

#writings

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mybookplacenet · 1 year

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Featured Post: When Light Breaks Through: A Salem Witch Trials Story by Brenda Murphy

About When Light Breaks Through: A Salem Witch Trials Story: When Light Breaks Through takes us beyond the witch trials to tell a riveting, expansive story of what happened in Salem Village. 1692. In what begins as a daring adolescent game, twelve-year-old Ann Putnam becomes a ringleader of the “afflicted children” who accuse scores of people of witchcraft, resulting in twenty executions and untold misery for those imprisoned and their families in Massachusetts and Maine. 1697. Joseph Green, a young schoolteacher who is in love and eager to marry, takes on the Salem Village ministry that no one else wants and sets about mending the bitter discord that divides the congregation and the village. With his wife Elizabeth, he gradually earns the respect and trust of his congregation, eventually taking some dramatic actions that move the people to confront their future together as a community. 1706. With Joseph’s help, Ann delves into the darkness of her past, uncovering startling truths about her family and her childhood motivations. Standing before the neighbors whose loved ones she has sent to jail or to their deaths, she makes an appeal that could finally unite the people in forgiveness. The compelling narrative takes us from the girlhood friendship of Ann and Abigail Williams, the other ringleader in the witch trials, to the intense, often shocking drama of the trials themselves, and to the small farming village on the edge of the frontier in 17th-century Massachusetts where Joseph Green pursues his quest to unite a bitterly divided people. Targeted Age Group: 16 and over Written by: Brenda Murphy Buy the ebook: Buy the Book On Amazon Buy the Print Book: Buy the Book On Amazon Buy the Book On Barnes & Noble/Nook Buy the Book On BookShop.org Author Bio: Brenda Murphy is the author of more than twenty books. Recently she has been writing mainly historical fiction. Besides When Light Breaks Through: A Salem Witch Trials Story (2023), her recent fiction includes Becoming Carlotta: A Biographical Novel (2018), based on the life of the actress Carlotta Monterey, and After the Voyage: An Irish American Story (2016), historical fiction based on the experience of her immigrant family in the Boston area from 1870 until the 1930s. After teaching at universities in New York and Connecticut, Brenda now lives in Maryland where she enjoys writing full time surrounded by deer and horse farms. Follow the author on social media: Learn more about the writer. Visit the Author's Website Read the full article

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faded-florals · 4 years

Note

La Carlotta for the character meme?

Favorite thing about them: She has an astronomical amount of confidence and knows her worth. I love when a female character knows who she is and that she’s valuable.

Least favorite thing about them: Her confidence can come off as egotistical, and she doesn’t play well with others.

Favorite line: “The things I have to do for my art!”

BrOTP: Carlotta/Christine, I just want them to be friends so bad! There is so much room for her character to grow and develop into a mentor for Christine.

OTP: Carlotta/Piangi

NOTP: Carlotta/Erik, they have negative chemistry.

Random headcanon: Carlotta is a big fan of pet names, and has a whole list of them for Piangi.

Unpopular opinion: I don’t blame Carlotta for being angry at Christine, she was in a tough spot to begin with with all of the Phantom’s hijinks, then Christine kind of swoops in and (unintentionally) steals her spotlight. Her bitterness was justified, though I do hope she found peace in the end.

Song I associate with them: Women Gotta Stick Together from Crazy Ex Girlfriend, because she would go there.

Favorite picture of them:

#Carlotta Giudicelli #La Carlotta #ask prompts #ask fadedflorals #Wendy Ferguson

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bel-paese · 5 years

Text

@sokrovennyi liked x for a starter~!

A candid lover of the arts, both the soft water colours of Monet to the detail oriented of DaVince and all the great artists in between. There was always something to see, to observe - what most would speculate to understand but missing the greater picture of lost art and stained glass. The scent of a new exhibit (new to her, that is) was always a rush, wanting to spend countless hours wandering and examining each hung picture and lose time in the intentional strokes and colour theories to portray the emotions the artist no doubt felt. Art teachers marvel in forcing students to go into great depths of why a colour or shade was used instead of another - to turn a dreary painting into a more happier or some psychological reasoning, but Carlotta simply relished in the art itself. Art was art, why did everything have to need reason?

The 20th anniversary of the Russian Modern Art Museum hadn't always been a point on Carlotta's bucket list, but she was glad to finally have the opportunity to sneak away from diplomatic duties and marvel in her life long passion. That, and finally being out of the bitter winter air, why anyone would live in such a frigid climate, she would never know. It was not to disrespect the country itself, Ivan no doubt would have her head if she spoke ill - the country was beautiful in its own ways, she couldn't deny. It was the cold that put her own winters to shame, suppose that curse came with her geological location unfit for these types of weather conditions. Oh well, she could suffer, only if she could see the exhibit.

Preferring to be on her own, guided tours took the personal experience away. It gave no real light to the ones left under the radar, the ones that couldn't be admired in a group, especially if the guide was easily over talked by other on lookers. Carlotta had no patience for such irritating things. Earbuds placed in her ears, soft melodies of orchestra to avoid distracting herself too much from the artwork. Vladimir Mukhin's Gastronomyon the quest of self and one’s place in life had caught her eye, the lingering question most strive to answer, ending with none at all. A question deemed almost unimportant to her now, but mortal curiosity was a fascination in itself.

In her mindless wandering, hazel hues reflective of the dimmed lights to avoid overexposure to the paintings, Carlotta unintentionally bumped into another visitor. Purely accidental, she meant no harm, but perhaps she should have paid closer attention. ❝Извините меня.❞ An instant apology came, taking one of her ear buds out to be polite - blinking in surprise to see who the unfortunate victim of her clumsiness had been.

❝Never took you as a man of the arts, but it's a pleasure to see such a familiar face.❞

#✦ || ᴜɴ ɢɪɢʟɪᴏ ꜰɪᴏʀᴇɴᴛᴇ ᴛʀᴀ ʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴄᴇʀɪᴇ (ɪᴄ)#sokrovennyi #((i am so sorry this got long and out of control--

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miscellaneousmoontoffee · 5 years

Text

MoonToffee A monster in Paris AU

The full timeline and some notes ( contains swearing and gets kinda lazy towards the end! ) (( another note Chauncey although mentioned sometimes doesn’t come up much in the AU cause there wasn’t much need, so sorry pig-goat lovers! ))

Characters

- Moon = Lucille - Toffee = Francoeur ( both monsters toffee's just a lot more cunning but I think in this AU he's going to be a lot more open and slightly naive because of the circumstances ) - River = Raoul / Emile ( Raoul's place in the story-ish and Emile's more cautious behavior but without his romance of Maud. ) - Mina = Victor ( the antagonist that's pretty full of themselves and could potentially/go mad, I think they fit each other pretty well ) - No one = Maud ( since river is going to be following after Raoul in terms of loving Moon/Lucille there is no need for a Maud plus no one really fits her much anyway ) - Count Mildrew = Albert ( both background characters and kinda up their respective asses ) - A solarian soldier = Pate ( Pate is the inspector/right hand man of Victor btw ) - Comet = Carlotta ( both the main female leads mum/mother figure ) - Chauncey = Charles ( Chauncey in this AU of course still belongs to moon but she tells him to keep an eye on the river, plus she lets him hang out with the professor cause they both have fun together, aka the prof needed a smart animal companion (( mad scientist aesthetic man )) and Chauncey wanted more food than moon gave him )

Loose plot

- River wakes up daydreaming about being together with moon then is like oh i forgot something ( you can choose what he forgot ) so he goes downstairs. - his dad is like "hey son can you help me run some errands?" obviously this was not a question so river hops in his dad's car and they drive off to do the thing. - his dad drops him off at the lab to deliver some eggs and says he needs to go do some other task and that hes gonna go and he will pick him up when hes done, and River is like "dad I’m just giving some dude eggs i can go with ya" - so his dad goes well actually the guy is out of the country and hes sure they dude wouldn't mind if river went in and looked around, wink wink nudge nudge. - river gets the message and his dad drives away. - He goes in and is like okay I'm glad I went to do chores today this is awesome, and then a pig starts chewing on his trousers and hes like " Chauncey?? what are you doing, does moon know you're here?!?" and Chauncey says nothing cause he's a pig but he tries to push river to the exit but river doesn’t pick up on this hint. - so river goes "Oooh do you wanna explore with me little buddy?" and Chauncey is like 'no leave' but river goes into the lab anyway. - the look around for a bit and river starts drawing stuff that looks cool ( the drawing is bad but he wants to remember what stuff looks like ) -he finds some potions and is like "ooh I wonder what they do???" so tests one out on a seed that says "instant growth potion " on a label. - it of course grows and he's like wow but walks back to see it better and knocks some potions over. - Chauncey goes to try and stop the potions but steps on a lizards tail and it gets scared and runs under where the potions are falling ( river of course doesn't notice this ) - crash, boom, smoke! - river gets up and sees the shadow of a lizard man and is like " AHHHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" so it runs away so river draws it before he forgets then runs out to the front to get home, not caring that his dad said he would pick him up he's not waiting for that thing to get him! - unfortunately he drops a handkerchief which crudely had his name stitched into it and leaves back to his house. - A couple of days pass and the lizard monster starts showing up in the papers. - an investigation is started over the mysterious explosion at the lab and the new monster that appeared the very same night. - the cheif investigator tells mina loveberry 'bout this and she's like "yes, now is my chance to rise to the top!" - they look around and find River's handkerchief.

- Cut to moon, and her club is looking for a new act/singer and it's not going well. - so one of the waiters, a real smug bastard, is auditioning and it's just him singing badly about how amazing he is and telling her that she's welcome for the free performance of a god. - and she's like "yeah... no thanks I don't really think the club is really the right fit for you." - so hes like " FINE I'M TOO TALENTED FOR THIS LITTLE CLUB I'LL GO FORM MY OWN CLUB! ( *bender voice* with blackjack and hookers! ) - so she's like " yep you are way too good for us, I worry if you joined I would be out of a job. goodbye now! " - Cue Mildrew seeing toffee and freaking out trying to go back in but still being really vain ( ' PLEASE LET ME IN I'LL EVEN SIGN YOU AN AUTOGRAPH!!! ' ) - It doesn't work out so he jumps a nearby fence and books it. - Toffee is like what is that awful ringing noise is it this? and then proceeds to ring the doorbell a million times just too ' make sure it's this '. - So Moon opens the finally all like " YES Mildrew what is it- of holy fudging schnitzels " - she accidentally hits it with the door and is apologizing profusely as she goes to help the ' person ' up. - sees its the lizard person and freaks out, bolts and locks the door. - hears it singing a sad song ( more bitter about the people than the original though ) and is like oh it can talk???? also it has a godly voice???? - she gets an umbrella and tentatively opens the door and apologizes and welcomes this creature in out the rain. - he is suspicious but goes in anyway because its better than freezing to death in the rain - so she awkwardly starts conversation " Soo I'm sorry about hitting you with the door and leaving like that, I just got a bit.... panicked. but might as well start with names, mines moon " - and he just kinda sits there and she picks up that ‘oops he doesn't have one’ so she looks around and is like I have to call him something. - then she looks at a box of toffees a fan had given her and is like " Since you don't seem to have a name would you like me to call you toffee? I'm not the best with names but I need to call you something. " - so he goes ok, and she says that if he wants to stay in Paris he should probably have a disguise.

-cut back to river and someone knocks on his door. - he goes and opens it and it reveals officers who see his drawing of the monster in the lab on his wall and he is arrested. - they bring him to mina, and he starts pleading not to go to prison and that it was all an accident. - ( they also brought Chauncey who was staying with River) - he panicking blames the pig and chauncy narrows his eyes as this will be remembered for later.... - Mina tells him not to worry and that by creating a monster he has actually helped her in one of her secret projects and she gives him a badge of honor. - River leaves and then is like "now that I have this badge I have the confidence to go to one of moons shows and maybe I can try and woo her with my badge!" - so he goes to see her and due to the fact that Mildread is still pissed at moon he gives river the best seats in the house cause he is bad at revenge, so river thinks its his lucky day! - he sees the show and was hypnotized by moons song so he decides to push his luck by going to talk to her back stage. - during the time river was being arrested moon got to see a lot of what Toffee could do and who he is;

. he has a pretty wry sense of humor . he is rather naive in the way of society and social cues . he's also really smart and a quick learner . she also gives him his disguise ( his hair isn't a wig ) . he is pretty fuckin' strong . really stubborn . takes a while for him to trust her but when he does he's pretty clingy . he is vain about his hair and constantly brushes it to lay flat, it always curls at the ends anyway. . he REALLY likes suits. and is rather cuddly.

- so the performance is about to start but he doesn't want to leave her side and sit with the band so cue the scene in the movie. - they actually perform and they end up dancing together on stage, and she refuses to admit to her self that her face felt a little warm when he looked at her with such a loving look while dancing. - back to after the performance and river comes over nervously to congratulate her for the awesome performance, and goes to shake toffee's hands when he spots his tail. - he shrieks and moon puts her hand over his mouth and drags him and toffee back to her dressing room. - she tries to tell him that she knows he's the monster and he's not awful at all. - but river starts freaking out so she slaps him and tells him to get a grip man! - he calms down a little but is still like how are you so calm - so moon tells him why toffee is not dangerous and he calms down properly. - unfortunately for them Mildrew overhears and he now has a better idea for revenge against moon...

- the police arrive soon moon leaves to greet them and try to distract them, while river has to hide toffee. - so Moon goes to the door and is like " oh Mina I wasn't expecting you, what are you doing here? " - And Mina's like " sorry mud sister but this is serious business, where are you hiding it? " - and Moons like fuck she already knows its here somewhere. so she plays dumb " hiding what? I don't have anything to hide. " ( as she sweats bullets ) - and Mina already knowing that moons lying just barges through with the inspector and the 'troops' - Mina instantly tries to go to moons dressing room but moon cuts her off " okay Mina I'm sorry but if you go in there we can't be mud sisters it's a blatant breach of my privacy. " - and Mina calls her bluff and goes in anyway. - Moon is like fuck everything's over they found him... crud. - so when she goes in to make her last stand she is surprised that they are nowhere to be found, and so is Mina. ( surprised that is ) - the inspector comes in and says they haven't found anything so Mina stands silently for a while then goes and pleads to moon to be mud sisters again. - moon still a bit high on adrenaline from then panic says yes just to get her out of the room and they leave after arresting Mildrew for basically pissing Mina off. - moon sighs and says that they can come out and the cost is clear after Mina and the others leave. - she then gets spooked as toffee pops out of her piano, so she lends him a hand and then checks to make sure nothing's broken in her piano. ( storing lizard men in your pianos isn’t a good for pianos kids ) - river then falls down the chimney coughing from all the soot and toffee warily gives him a hand up. ( the start of a beautiful friendship! )

- the next day Mina opens the Montmartre Funicular ( its a escalator/elevator thing on a hill I think ) - the trio ( plus Chauncey ) planned last night that they are going to fake toffee's death on the opening day so people won't look for him and he can live a normal life. - so Mina introduces moon who is going to sing for the opening. - so halfway through singing river loudly shouts " oh my god it's the monster oooh nooo! " - so the crowd starts panicking and Mina is like ' It’s my time to shine! ' - then Toffee hops down and picks up moon bridal style and roars viciously - and moon is all like " oh noooo it's got me, whatever shall I do? " - one of the 'soldiers' tries to shoot toffee but Mina tells him not to as he could hit her blood sister. - then she remembers that river had conveniently given some ' anti monster grenade ' earlier so she throws it and smoke spreads everywhere. - when the smoke clears the monster is gone and the crowd rejoices their savior (the crowd lead by river and moon of course ) - but then Mina spots a scarf caught in the trapdoor and opens it to reveal toffee.

- moon freaks out so her and river shout at toffee to run, as they themselves make a break for it. - river had conveniently brought his dads car/van to get there ( with his dad's permission of course ) so they hopped in and booked it as toffee went the other way so there would be less people chasing him. - luckily Chauncey had already been waiting in the car so they didn't need to wait for him to get in. - so they speed down the street narrowly avoiding obstacles, one of which ended up making river loose his ' fashionable ' straw coat to a horse. - unfortunately for them a hook ends up grabbing their car and they look up and who is it other than Mina and an exhausted looking soldier peddling their FREAKING AIRSHIP LIKE MINA YOU REALLY DIDN'T NEED A WHOLE FUC- - so moon has to climb out and try and get rid of it cause river is driving. - unfortunately for her it's way to heavy and she almost ends up falling off several times, but fortunately ( finally something good for these poor characters ) toffee was making his getaway very near to them so he hopped down on the cars bonnet to help moon pull off the hook. - but because things can never be easy it doesn't work and Mina ends up lifting the car off the ground. ( also moon falls back onto toffee's chest, cue blushy blushy BS when they think back on this at a later date,a scenario which I have obviously not written ) - so they are currently panicking as moon and toffee precariously make their way back inside the van so when they inevitably fall they won’t be as injured. - so Mina drops them in to the seine to try and drown toffee, currently forgetting that her mud sister ( however traitorous she may be ) was in there. - luckily when they start sinking river's father had been planning a boating trip so he had oars in the back. - they paddle to the Eiffel tower before they drown and make it, only loosing River's dad's car along the way. which in the end maybe worse than drowning in the long run. ( for River at least )

- river mourns the car and they make their way up the tower unsure what to really do now other than try and get as far away from Mina as possible. - Mina shoots the airship and she lands on the Eiffel tower, the soldier only just making it out alive by jumping into the seine. - the trio reaches the top when toffee starts to feel weak and moon notices that a lot of his scales are falling off, and she gets worried but slings his arm over her shoulder and asks river to help her carry him to the top. - they are almost at the top when they are stopped when moon placed toffee down for a bit to rest her arms and she hears a gun click. - Mina demands they hand over the monster and toffee makes a run for it up a ladder to the very top of the tower, so Mina brushes harshly past moon to run after toffee. - unfortunately for moon she was standing too close to an edge and got pushed over but managed to grab the edge. - so river goes to try and help moon but somehow also falls over, hanging only onto a spare belt he tried to lower down. ( hey it’s always handy to have a spare belt y’know? ) - luckily they forgot Chauncey was there because he was trailing behind them the whole way up the tower, so he pulls them both up and moon rushes for the ladder after hugging River and Chauncey. - River goes up too but a bit slower and more careful, after almost falling to his death he didn’t really wanna take another chance after all. - Moon goes up there only to see toffee get shot by Mina and fall to a lower level. - before Mina can look over and make sure he's dead the police inspector comes over and arrests her after the ‘soldier’ who was peddling the airship called the other police officers to arrest Mina for leaving him for dead. - moon vaguely sees this but doesn't stick around long, she rushes back down past river (who had only just gotten up here) to find where toffee fell. - she only found his clothes and no body. - It doesn't really register that he could have escaped because of the shock so she just cries - river finds her and comforts her and she brings the clothes back to her dressing room as to not forget him.

- the next day she realizes she has to perform but she is still overcome by grief, so she picks up his scarf to at least wear if she has to perform when she feels wiggling. - she carefully unwinds the scarf and inside there is a lizard. a lizard missing its middle finger. - overwhelmed by joy she tells river and him and Chauncey go to get a potion that will turn him back to his bipedal form permanently. - so he turns back and after hugging him really hard and him apologizing ( what for though? upsetting her? IDK ask him ) she asks if he wants to go sing with her and he says yes. - they perform and at the almost end of the dance she kisses him, just a light peck but a kiss none the less. - river is semi-heart broken yet had kind of seen it coming for a while now. - and toffee goes beet red as the crowd whistles. - while her mum squeals that her baby had finally found a partner! - END

Notes + extras

- Moon cuts off toffees finger when she was cooking with him at one point but then constantly apologizes for it later, he of course forgives her but she does it anyway and he likes making little jokes and jabs at her about it. - Although when we first see River it looks like he's bad with the cold due to the amount of clothes he's wearing, he is actually really good with the cold and was constantly almost overheating but wanted to impress moon with clothing items that his friends told him were cool. of course they weren't very cool all in one outfit. - when toffee first transformed he got his hair, he doesn't know where from but he thinks there may have been some hair on the floor when he got hit by the potion. - Moon takes star's role as Mina's mud sister since star isn't here in this AU. - cause river was distracted when he was watching moon performance before he knew toffee he didn't see the way they ( moon + toffee ) looked at each other but looking back he can definitely see 'it'. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) - due to the potion making toffee human it also increased his regenerative ability from being a lizard to new heights ( for example, if an ant were human sized it would have super strength ) (( no this doesn’t really come into play into the story )) - after the kiss on stage Toffee and moon share another kiss in her dressing room ( nothing like that get your mind out of the gutter! ) - Chauncey was staying with River before he got arrested because when he left the lab scared he brought him so he wouldn't get hurt but then was too shy to give him back to Moon. - Mina calls the police her ' troops ' in reference to the solarian warriors. possibly why no one wants her as mayor...

#whoops accidentally posted this on my main!#but thanks to everyone who told me they wanted to see this #I wouldn't have been motivated enough to post this if not for you #Ps yes they got togther in the end I wanted a happy ending #also sorry for any typos #or plotholes #moontoffee #moon #toffee #svtfoe #a monster in paris

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naernon · 6 years

Note

for the ask meme (TES, obvs): 3,9, 13 (for naemon), 23!

thank you!! i wrote this all last night and i havent checked for coherency or errors so forgive me if it’s a bit scatterbrained at times (although yall should be used to incoherency coming from me ghhgfg.)

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3.) Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

someone said that they didn’t like serana and i was already sitting on the decision to unfollow them for other reasons and that. that was just the Final Straw.

but i think that’s it…? im so petty + impulsive (deadly combo) at times that maybe i did unfollow over a TES opinion another time but i can’t remember hgufuhfhxdfh

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9.) Most disliked character(s)? Why?

OOF this is a hard one, ill list the ones that come to mind rn;

molag bal. needs no explanation

darren guitar or whatever his name is. im sorry to anyone who likes him but i just.. can’t. he’s so obnoxious. he was toned down in summerset, probably because different people were writing him if i had to guess but in the main and daggerfall covenant questline? awful. his goddamn womanizing jokes at every second of the day was “kim, there’s people that are dying” at its finest.literally one or two “haha ladies amirite fellow man ;)/haha ladies amirite……… lady ;)” jokes can be.. bearable albeit still annoying but there was so much more than that. or they were so obnoxiously written that it seemed to be more frequent than in actuality, either way, darren guitar? 0/10also my view of him hasnt gotten better since someone sent me a rude ask about how darren had more personality than prince naemon in-game due to me joking about how i don’t like him and then subsequently blocked me for being irritated about the rudeness of the ask + the fact that im 99% sure they were the anon that appeared in my fucking inbox defending darren guitar every single time i breathed a single word about him

i completely forgot he existed until you listed him as disliked and now i hate him even more. that fucking. bard from the bannered mare. the one that harassed carlotta until you told him to fuck off. i hate that dude. always have

abnur tharn. mildly obnoxious with some amusing lines until you find out what he did to queen ayrenn like. small dick mannimarco joke is now renounced, little man. Perish.my view on Estre is Complicated because she’s a really neat character and villain and ranks as a favorite in the latter department but from like, a moral standpoint i loathe her.also while it wasn’t like. pelidil levels of shittiness i’m not fond of how she hurt naemon– but then again……. now that i think of it, i really don’t know what’d she COULD do other than keep him in the absolute dark until he inevitably gets caught up in the Shitshow otherwise. i wouldn’t suppose naemon to be 100% willing to join in her efforts or even keep completely quiet about them if she did decide to talk to him about it or let him know; and for all we know, she could’ve planned to do so eventually in some way– but the suddenness of the AD hero’s infiltration of the veiled heritance probably ruined any semblance of a plan she could’ve had. so on second thought, even from a “naemon is a perfect being and i will protect him with my life and loathe all who hurt him” standpoint, i don’t dislike her too much. let’s just reduce estre to like.. honorable mentions on my “disliked characters” list then lmao(also “moral standpoint” as if queen ayrenn is anything close to the pinnacle of absolute morality. estre is objectively worse on that front, though, so i suppose i still stand by that)

speaking of which i really… don’t like pelidil. again, moral standpoint. and “naemon is a perfect being and i will protect him with my life and loathe all who hurt him” standpoint. otherwise, he’s a neat villain and the quest in which you cut him down was one of the more impressive quests in the game IMO, or even in the entire game series. good build-up.

this is getting too long so i’ll cut it there, that’s all the characters that come to mind rn anyways hfhgdhg

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10.) Unpopular opinion about XXX character?

hmmmmmm

i guess if you view it in such a way, liking him is kind of unpopular– while there’s still a lot of those who even if not actively talking about him as a character, have praised his character/took his side/whatever, there’s also a good amount who don’t. not really in considering him a poorly written character, but rather from a (sorry to bring this phrase up so much so far) moral standpoint.

also, considering him in a semi-unironic “he did nothing wrong” way, which i do, is kind of unpopular– and i can understand that, in some ways. i dont think him snapping at the scene of the orrery was under his 100% control nor was anything subsequent, but there’s still the fact that he still is in an “i deserve the throne, fuck off” mindset in coldharbour, which, unless he’s STILL affected by the mantle and/or the orrery, is obviously a negative change in viewpoint compared to the “i’ll swallow my bitterness and remain loyal to my sister and the dominion, she is the rightful queen and i am just her shadow” you saw prior.

granted, i’d argue that even then, you have to consider the influence that pelidil had over him prior (as some have accurately put it before– whispered poison into his ear). especially with the fact that naemon’s quite young for an elf at… 26? around that age-range. i dont think altmer’s minds work in the way that, say, hobbits do, in that they age slower and this includes their mental capability, decision-making, etc.. (they obviously don’t) BUT, compared to an elf with more experience, there’s a bit of an… imbalance there. pelidil WAS the one who served naemon instead of the other way around so you’d figure the opposite if anything, but again, naemon = impressionable and emotionally vulnerable at the time.

anyways, got off-topic; my point was that naemon, when you consider the influence that pelidil and any other secretly heritance people that interacted with him, even when you use the fact that he still seems “corrupted” in coldharbour to frame him as bad… that ain’t it. there’s also the fact that he is being tortured, at that moment. big part of it. he PROBABLY isn’t in the right state of mind, to put it simply. but then again, i mean, one could still argue a whole “cool motive, still murder” take on it, so whatever. i dont know man ghfghduhbdfg

YIKES i rambled, holy shit. sorry. but otherwise, i dont think i have too many? there’s not much in the prince naemon…. sub-fandom, at least not enough to be able to render one opinion as unpopular compared to the next

(and i. Guess that headcanoning him as trans definitely has the potential to be unpopular. but i dont really talk about it or “enforce” it much other than off-hand comments that might imply such, drawing him with top surgery scars, etc.. so it hasn’t exactly been given any room to be considered remotely unpopular. haven’t gotten anon hate, snide comments, etc.. about any of it at all so it’s cool. but i’ve brought it up because… you know how fandoms are; if there was more to the prince naemon “fandom”, theoretically, it would be and therefore kind of IS an unpopular opinion. “does your arm hurt from reaching cassius” ok look, i just felt like i needed to provide one more unpopular opinion about naemon and i couldn’t figure out any other than that. but yes. yes, hurts a little)

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23.) Unpopular character you love?

unpopular as in commonly disliked, or unpopular in… amount of people that like them? with the latter, it’s def naemon. i love him with all my heart gfigufhgdugdfh but then again who didn’t know that

with the former… hm. the thing is a lot of characters disliked in this fandom are disliked with good reason IMO– nevermind. almalexia. not to open any #diskhorse wounds but almalexia’s one of them ghdfhguhg jot that down

and i’ve heard some talk that veya is kind of unpopular, what with the recent summerset developments? yeah, fuck that, veya’s one of my favorites. this fandom (or. any fandom lets be real) has an awful tendency to praise any goddamn male character’s flaws or “negative” depth as redeemable character complexity and something that can be looked past, and yet, you see even REMOTELY the same amount if not more character depth in a female character and they’re hated. pointing this out is nothing new but it’s truly just…. something to behold.

and on that note im just going to renounce my prior statement of “a lot of characters disliked in this fandom are disliked with good reason” that’s the dumbest shit i’ve ever said. or perhaps an addendum stating that it’s only applicable to male characters is more in order? or that it’s the opposite for male characters: liked with bad reason. or… liked with over-exaggerated reason disproportionate to the actual amount of depth, complexity, and/or likeability said character actually has, paired with hatred for female characters with the same amount of complexity. “bruh don’t you obsess over prince naemon–” Yeah And What the Fuck Of It

anyways moving on sorry i got distracted hgdfgyfgh. that’s all the characters that come to mind? disregarding characters that are unpopular in an unappreciated sort of way rather than a disliked way, i really dont have a lot

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salty fandom (elder scrolls) opinions

#ask memes #time to do the other ones #asks #long post #ramblings #thanks again!!!!

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