#even my brother was born in my father's hometown

[iqmmir]

Sometimes i feel so fucked because i seriously don't really belong anywhere and it's just. Wow

[viennakarma]

hi! oh my gosh i loved wreck my plans, fernando is just chef’s kiss because that man was sooo patient he deserved that happy ending

even if you don’t add anymore parts to that story, i just wanted to ask how you think it would be between reader and nando in the future. and if luna gets a new sibling ☺️

Hi there! Thank you so much, hun.

So, a few head canons about the life after, in wreck my plans:

- You went back to social media after a while, and the followers were surprisingly receptive to you. There, you shared small snippets of your life (nothing too personal), pics of you, of Luna, your pets and even pics of Fernando (but they didn't show his face or anything recognizable).

- You found out you were pregnant again a little bit before your 3 year anniversary with Fernando, so you decided to tell him about the baby with a cute little present (a box with a custom AM baby onesie, baby socks with the number 14 and the positive pregnancy test). You moved in together around that time (Luna also started picking up spanish because of the familiarity of living with Fernando).

- Luna took the news very well, you and Fernando were scared she wasn't going to like it, but she was very excited about a little sibling. And because of Luna, it didn't take long for her to tell her dad about it. Which resulted in a frantic call you got from your Lewis late at night asking if it was true, he went ballistic once you confirmed and before he could do anything, you hung up on him.

- Only two weeks later, a paparazzi posted pictures he took of you, Luna and Fernando walking around in his hometown. It sent the world into a frenzy. You calmed down an angry Fernando telling him it was a coincidence, but deep down you knew it wasn't. Luckily, your pregnancy wasn't showing at that time, so no one noticed.

- You sent Lewis a big rant via text, and all the screenshots of the texts the woman who he cheated on you with sent you when you were pregnant with Luna. Then you blocked him before he could reply. There was a big wave of hatred towards you when the news came out, not only on social media, but also in general media outlets.

- Only a couple of days later, Lewis was questioned about your (now public) relationship with one of his rivals. Surprisingly, he said you were a single woman and he just wanted you to be happy. He also held himself accountable and came clean about the cheating that caused your relationship to end.

- Fernando wanted to retire immediately after finding out you were pregnant, but you convinced him to think better and at least finish the current season in Formula One. When the season ended, you were around five months pregnant.

- You went to the last race of that season with Fernando, a pretty dress that clung to your body as you proudly showed the baby bump and a jacket with a big 14 on the back. That was his last race before retirement and there was a small symbolic ceremony to celebrate his career.

- Fernando and Luna got a great relationship, and she even asked him to take her karting in his track frquently. She enjoyed time with him, and Fernando always respected his role as a step father. Eventually, after her brother, Vicenzo, was born, she started calling Fernando "Papá Nano" because her brother called him "Papá". (There was a long conversation with Lewis about his opinion on the matter, and after some discussion, he said Luna could call Fernando that as long as Lewis kept being the only Dad/Daddy)

- You and Lewis manage to get a good, respectable relationship for the sake of Luna. You never found out if he was the one who leaked your relationship with Fernando (and you never cared to ask).

- You and Fernando got married in a little intimate wedding ceremony on the beach, just the closest family and friends. Vicenzo was 2 and Luna was 7 when the wedding happened. You got pregnant again by accident after the honeymoon.

IDK I JUST THINK ABOUT AN OVERALL HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE READER DESERVES IT.

[blueshistorysims]

Mrs. Walsh at her home in Malvern Hills, 1938.

Rebecca Isabella Walsh (Nee. Kingsley) was the only child born to Mr. Kingsley, an attorney, and Mrs. Kingsley in the small country town of Newcrest. Growing up, the Kingsleys were very close to the Walsh family as her father and Edwin Walsh were partners in their law firm. Rebecca and Mr. Walsh's son Peter became very good friends until she went off to finishing school, and the pair lost touch. Rebecca and Peter reconnected while the latter was in university, and the pair fell in love over exchanging letters.

The couple began engaged in 1887 and married that July due to Mr. Walsh and Peter's younger brother David being deathly ill with typhoid fever, both dying later that summer. After Peter passed the bar in 1888, Rebecca quickly acclimated to being the wife of an attorney and the couple had four children: twins Edeline and Alexander in 1892, Byron in 1895, and Giselle in 1900.

Initially, Rebecca and the teenage Edeline clashed against one another due to her more conservative views, but she eventually let her daughter be the first woman in their family to attend university, where she met her husband Montgomery, marrying in 1915. The outbreak of the Great War would take her eldest son's life, devastating her family, and Peter never fully recovered from it. After losing Edeline and the love of her life Peter to the Spanish Flu, Rebecca became very clingy to her younger children, especially to Byron, who looked the most like Peter. However, after witnessing her son's choices in both of his marriages and the realization her daughter is a homosexual, she withdrew.

After the Crash, Rebecca lost all of her money, so she went to live with her son Byron until she learned of his sexuality and "affair" with Montgomery MacGregor, disowning him and her daughter, moving to her father's hometown in Malvern Hills. However, when she started dying, Rebecca had a change of heart toward her living children, asking for forgiveness which Byron happily gave but not Giselle, though they made some amends. She died surrounded by her two younger children and their families.

Rebecca was kind and loved her children more than anything, though like Peter, Alexander was the object of her favoritism. As she got older, however, she became more cynical and judgemental, standing strongly in her convictions, which led to the estrangement of Giselle and Byron. She greatly enjoyed being a grandmother and while flawed and misguided, Rebecca truly believed she was trying to do what was right for children until her death.

Rebecca is survived by her son Byron, daughter Giselle, daughter-in-laws Eleora and Francesca, and grandchildren Simon-Elliot and Amalia.

Rebecca was the longest-lasting character in my legacy so far. Even though she lowkey was a mega homophobic bitch and had A LOT of internalized misogyny, I did really enjoy writing her, and part of me wishes I could go back to the 1880s and 1890s to write more about her, but I am satisfied with her story, it feels very appropriate for a woman of her age and time. Fare thee well Rebecca!

and now to be more sad, here's photos of her since 1880s :(

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Ashes Burn: chapter one

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, gore, blood

🔷Summary: Your hometown will soon fall, and you become noticed by the one-eyed Kinslayer who lays siege to it.

🔷Author's note: Dark!Aemond is not something i throw around lightly. It is not something i take lightly as a warning. Just so you know.

🔷Wordcount :7036 (THAT CANT BE RIGHT THATS HUGE)

Warnings below the cut but mind your step!

🔷Warnings: Gore, AABFR, She/her pronouns, murder, warcrimes, mentions of non-con but no descriptions of it, Dubcon (aemondxoc) and overall a very very dark Aemond. Childabuse? (A child gets slapped)

All but ash

The skies have blackened with smoke in the distance. Fires keep the courtyard warm where multiple children and women shelter for the upcoming battle. They hope for a victory. They hope for a happy ending.

You stand on your balcony and overlook the city you were conceived in, born in, and perhaps even will die in: DolkBurg. A small city, almost a village, but not quite, located in the Riverlands. 

Your family, the Dawreyn, have been ruling this seat until the beginning of the Seven Kingdoms; perhaps even before that, according to some ancient texts. Yet you are not a full Dawreyn. You are a bastard. Your father is Samwell Dawreyn, but your mother? You wouldn't know.

From the distance, you notice horses riding up to the city gates. That is when you stop watching. You close the door of your balcony and head downstairs.

When you pass halls, men and women alike are preparing for the battle. Servants carry food, supplies, and weapons around in quick passed steps. You see your father and your brother adjusting their armours before going to meet the Greens head-on. And you see Lady Fyona Dawnreyn, who clutches her youngest child, your brother Maas, on her lap. Her eyes are big and full of worry, and she mumbles prayer after prayer. 

You ignore her for now, as she would ignore you as usual. ‘’Where are Annalysa and Diandra?’’ You ask your father, Lord Samwell Dawreyn. His heir, your half-brother Karst, is busy sharpening his sword, preparing for battle by slashing down imaginary enemies. You hope the battle ends as good as he imagines it. You doubt it, however. Karst has never seen a real battle. None of you have. Perhaps your father did. But he is old and weak. You would be a fool to deny it.

Your father speaks in an annoyed, snappy tone that betrays that you have outstayed your welcome in his presence already for today. ‘’Annalysa is in her rooms. Diandra is busy preparing her crossbow.’’ He does not even glance at you. 

And that kills you faster than any arrow or sword ever would. Diandra has always been very spirited. ‘’Don't tell me she is stupid enough to fight.’’ You huff. Diandra thinks she is the greatest archer who ever lived, but how much damage can one 12 years old do?

Your father turns on his heel, glaring at you. ‘’I'm glad that one of my daughters is doing something useful. Instead of sending good suitors screaming for the hills.’’ You absently touch your scar by your face before glaring at him. 

He leans in closer. ‘’We will soon discuss the matter of your future, Y/N. I will no longer have you under my roof. Not when bastards are hunted.’’ You know what he is referring to. 

King Aegon II has decided that all bastards holding titles and lands must turn it over to the Crown. You have never heard of a more foolish rule, but you understand why he did so. His nephews are bastards. The rightful queen might be pure of blood, but her children are not.

You would be a risk for your family to keep. You would endanger the life of your siblings. You would endanger everyone here. You would rather stay, but not at the costs of their lives.

Your father leaves the hall with Karst, and you watch the two of them walk outside, to where their horses await them. Karst climbs on the saddle before waving to you, following your shared father.

Diandra, out of breath, chases after them with her bow. ‘’Wait! I can fight!’’ She shouts into the dust and the shadows they leave behind.

You feel sympathy for your youngest sister. You gently lay a hand on her shoulder. ‘’They're men, Di. This war started because they were too shortsighted to see what we women are truly capable of.’’

Di drops her bow defeated. She was born eight years ago. You two are different in so many ways. ‘’I just wish I wasn't a woman. I wish I could…’’She looks wistfully to where the smoke clouds have gotten worse and is gathered above the hills surrounding the city. Even if she was born a man, she would not be able to fight for several years to come.

You take one of her hands and try to drag her away from the gates and back to the safety of your home.  ‘’We need to prepare the castle.’’ You tell her with a smile. ‘’It's a great honor and duty to prepare the castle when battle is afoot. We must -’’

A horse lets himself be known. A familiar horse. The majestic creature almost walks right to Diandra, who greets her horse with a pat on his neck. Balyrion, her loyal horse, lowers his head in greeting. 

Diandra grabs her bow, walking her horse to the stables where it escaped from...

You turn your back, but keep watching her. In the moments that you do, you see your sister climb on her horse and dash off into the city, to where the warzone becomes closer and closer to the place you call home.

You let out a shriek before grabbing your own horse from the stables, chasing after her in madness and desperation.  ‘’Diandra! Come back here!’’ You shout, following the little girl as you avoid villagers and smallfolk alike.

You follow her through the village where the soldiers are holding up near the gates of the city. Two or three laugh when you two approach in your dresses and another scoffs, but you ignore them all. 

Diandra has taken position by a crack of the gates. She has leveled her arrows through the hole, ready to impale her target from her horse. 

She is aiming.

She is waiting.

You see a man approach the gates. He has dark hair, and you see a terrifying large creature behind him that eclipse the sun. A dragon is waiting back on the hills. 

You heard rumors that she is the biggest dragon alive but rumors and seeing her with your own eyes are two different things. ‘’Let's see how easy you can bother villages without  your eyes…’’ Diandra mutters, and you see her switch her bow to the man that approaches your town.

You have a split second to act.

So you do.

You tackle her to the ground, slamming the bow out of her hands and throwing your body on hers to protect her. 

‘’No!’’ Diandra groans as the arrow misses him by a mere inch. The arrows land in the grass right beside his left feet. The man pauses and takes the arrow from the ground, as if he picks a flower.

He takes out a horn and blows it.

One time.

Two times.

Three times.

You feel an uneasy feeling grow as the little dots in the distance become bigger and bigger, and the army approaches your city.

‘’Are you mad?! He was going to offer us mercy!’’ You shout at Diandra.

She spits in your face before taking her bow back. ‘’There is no mercy from killers. You always were meant to be slave but I sure am not!’’ She shouts.

You don't even give her time to rethink her actions before you hit her across her face. She doubles over and clutches her face furious. She tries to attack you, but you simply step aside, letting her stumble. ‘’You're an idiot. That man came to offer terms. We will all die now!’’ You scream at her.

Two soldiers are needed to keep you both from hurting each other. Your father approaches as his soldiers hold you both apart, clearly disappointed.

‘’Diandra. What are you doing here?’’ You huff a bit. Of course he only cares for her wellbeing.

She has stupid hopeful eyes that fill you with pity. A stupid hopeful girl that never learns that men would never see her as an equal. ‘’I can fight, Father.’’ She speaks, easily freeing herself. She looks at him with big, hopeful eyes. ‘’I almost killed the man! I can fight. Let me fight.’’ She begs.

Your father scoffs, insulted and hurt that you both ruined this mission. This final chance at peace. ‘’You're a woman. Go home. You embarrassed me enough for one day.’’ You feel angry. Isn't he even a tiny bit proud?

You both get onto your horses as the army with the dragon banners reaches the final gate. Within a few mere moments, they have broken through the walls and gates. You watch as Diandra silently cries, tears of rage and broken dreams leaving her eyes… Until you follow her gaze to the open gate.

Diandra understands this is her chance.

And her moment.

Instead of running home, instead of retreating, the girl of 12 summers old, your sister, runs through the open gates into the battlefield. 

She takes her crossbow and aims it, but before she can even kill one soldier, she is surrounded. You overhear what she is saying to the soldiers. You show your empty hands to the men who try to stop you. ‘’Please. That's my sister. Show me your honour, and let me try to save her.’’ You beg.

You fear they will kill you on the spot but the man that Diandra tried to kill, the man with the kind brown almost dark and certainly Dornish eyes speaks for you, protecting you. ‘’Very well. We will push the attack, so don't expect to return.’’ He warns you.

You don't listen to him and run past soldiers on foot and horse alike, past slayed soldiers and those who are still moaning in pain to where your sister is surrounded.

You hope you are not too late.

You hope your mission is not in vain. You approach your sister and overhear her insulting the soldiers that keep their weapons aimed at her. ‘’Who leads you, you disgusting pigs? Take me to him!’’ She demands as if this is her army.

You will kill that girl if she gets out of here alive. What is she even thinking? ‘’Diandra!’’ You shout, and she blushes as a little girl being scolded by her mother. A few soldiers turn their heads to you, surprised by your entrance.

The commander escorts you to her. ‘’Pigs, huh?’’ He says dryly. ‘’And who are you, little lady?’’ You thought you knew, but you aren't sure anymore. Who is your sister?

Diandra ignores him.

‘’Well? Are you deaf? Who commands you? I wish to speak to him. Now!’’ She shouts, causing one soldier to even flince. The commander sighs deeply before nodding to a man who approaches.

The fighting for the walls continues. The army of the Greens outmatches the army of Dolkburg greatly. You can even see the outcome for this point of the war. It won't even take a day. Perhaps three hours, that is if you are all lucky.

From the corner of your eye, you take in an all black dressed character with long silver hair, wielding an impressive long silver sword. A Targaryen. You almost instantly back away from him, stepping on the toes of the commander. ‘’Pardon me, Ser.’’ You mutter, but he didn't even feel your feet. His iron shoes protected him. The commander bows his head in respect for the Targaryen.

The Targaryen in question is a terrifying creature that looks as if he came walking straight out of a historic book about the first conquest of Westeros. You become aware of your increased heartbeat, and you avoid drawing attention to yourself.

You heard rumours.

You all had.

There are three green Targaryens with dragons. One is the king. He is a modest threat if he comes. One is the last born prince, he too would be a modest threat. But the second one, he is the deadliest with the biggest dragon of them all. He is known as the Kinslayer or one-eye.

And unfortunately for you, and your beautiful hometown, your family's lives and the lives of your friends and everything else that matters to you, that you hold so dear, this man is clearly covering up a missing eye with a black eyepatch.

The one-eyed Targaryen  grins at your sister. ‘’I am right here, little lady.’’ He speaks full of mockery in a deep raw voice that sends chills down your spine. There is no humanity or kindness in his eyes. Only bloodlust. Madness. Insanity and rage. You know that all attempts at peace are lost.

Diandra seems taken back for a moment. Perhaps she is even truly afraid for a moment. But Diandra has never learned to live on her knees. She would rather die standing than live on her knees. She looks the prince up and down slowly, as if he’s a cow on the market. ‘’You're even uglier up close.’’ She says, shocking a few soldiers and even the commander.

The prince glares at her.

‘’I am flattered.’’ He speaks, not giving a damn. But his curiosity gets the better of him anyway. ‘’Who are you, and why do you wish to die so badly?’’ He speaks, taking out his sword. 

Your sister lifts her chin. ‘’I am Diandra of house Dawreyn. You're attacking my home. It's you who is going to die.’’ You close your eyes quietly, praying. If he wasn't planning on killing her...

He sure is now.

The prince laughs in her face as some of the surrounding soldiers join in.

‘’Am I now? O, my. How unfortunate.’’ He speaks, eying his men with amusement in his remaining good eye. His men chuckle or laugh. Then that laugh vanishes, leaving behind a beast. He suddenly jumps forward, causing Diandra to stumble backwards. He grits his teeth at her.  ‘’I have a dragon, you foolish cunt. Perhaps I'll keep you alive as entertainment for my men. You are too young to have sex with, but we can cut you up or make you a target practice. I do warn you: I can’t see very well..’’ He warns Diandra with those words.

You must interfere. ‘’That would be foolish. My sister speaks-’’Before you can finish talking, Diandra pushes you roughly aside, walking up to Aemond before taking out a small sword.

She exhales before speaking. So loudly that everyone can hear her. ‘’I challenge you to a duel.’’ She says, her voice unshaken, her eyes burning with hatred. ‘’That is, if you are man enough to face me.’’ 

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You hear cold laughter of the men. ‘’No! Diandra, no.’’ You tell her strictly. ‘’Diandra stop being foolish-’’ Diandra coldly turns around to face you. 

The prince snickers as well, amused by this development and very eager to spill blood. ‘’'You? You want to duel me?’’ The prince wonders outloud. ‘’You have more balls than the other men, I give you that. But I can't hurt a little peasant girl as yourself.’’

Diandra spits at the genuinely disgusting few men. ‘’Yes. I will take your other eye and send it to your brother.’’ She groans, insulted and impatient. You don’t think she is even scared. That is not a concept she’s familiar with.

The prince sighs almost as if he's bored with the entire idea of fighting your sister. ‘’O, I'm not going to do that. That wouldn't be fun for me.’’ You suppose that is true. It would be boring and a very short duel. One-sided too.

Diandra is let go of by the command of the prince.  She charges at him with her sword. ‘’Do it! Do it, you coward!’’ She shouts as the guards restrain her once more.

The prince continues his dramatics for quite a while, moaning about his boredom when behind him, near the gates your people are slaughtered as pigs. ‘’I was told there was going to be a battle, yet here I am with two annoying hostages. The one a mute, the other a talkative dumb child.’’ He murmurs as Diandra screams and kicks her attackers. You are frozen and can't move a single finger. 

Another person rides into the battlefield. Karst. You see he is covered in blood and has fought his way to the frontlines.He rides up to the prince and glares at him. ‘’I assume you are the Kinslayer?’’ He spats. You are glad and fearful your brother is here.

The prince's good eye narrows. ‘’I am named Aemond.’’ And just like that, the demon has a name.

Karst nods. ‘’Aemond. Good. I'm Karst of house Dawreyn. My father demands the return of my sister, Diandra.’’ Your eyes roll, but you carefully compose your face. Of course he only cares about Diandra. ‘’Release both her and her septa and we can discuss the terms of your surrender.’’ You know that Karst only protects you by lying about who you are. Bastards aren't safe under Aegon's rule. But to call you a septa? That is a lie that even a one-eyed man will easily see through.

For a moment it's silent.

Birds chirp in the distance.

Clouds roll by.

Screams are the only thing you hear.

Screams and prayers.

Until that moment passes and the laughter, that stomach twisting laughter returns. It sends shivers down your spine, and if hell had a sound, that would be it. 

It would be funny. Perhaps if the roles were reversed, you would laugh too. ‘’My surrender? I see stupidity runs in the family.’’ The prince comments. Perhaps it does.

Karst does not even blink. ‘’If you won't face a woman, surely you will face a man. Or are you a craven?’’ He grins at Aemond, taunting him by taking out his sword. ‘’I heard you are one of the youngest dragon riders out of your family.’’ You never heard that story.

The prince smirks, barely hiding his pride.

‘’You heard correct.’’

Your brother comes even closer. ‘’Yet, I heard your sister, the Queen Rhaenyra was even younger.’’ You bite your lips to avoid laughing at Aemond’s enraged face. Not only did Karst remind him of a old wound, but also made clear who your family is loyal to in the same breath, when pretending to praise the Prince’s ego. Karst cleans some blood of his sword, blood you know that belongs to Aemond’s men. ‘’Do us both a favor, and duel me so we can stop this unnecessary bloodshed.’’ He speaks, as a true leader of this town.

To that the prince nods. ‘’Very well.’’ He speaks. To his men he nods. They grab you and your sister before cleaning a large space for the duel.

Karst speaks with the words of a true hero. ‘’Whoever wins this duel, takes Dolkburg.’’  He says, making a very big gamble. A too big a gamble, perhaps. But Karst is a good fighter. He is skilled. Efficient. He is enough. He needs to be enough.

He continues as the prince remains silent. ‘’Three steps. Agreed?’’ So they will take three steps back before attacking.

The prince shrugs again that bored tone of his coming out. ‘’Tis fine with me.’’ He speaks.

Karst counts out loud as he takes steps away from the prince. You watch anxiously.  You focus on Karst's metal boots. You see one step. And a second one.

But before he can place his feet down for the thirth, his feet stop moving, and you watch him collapse for your own eyes. 

The prince stands behind him with his sword drawn where blood still drips from. ‘’And that would be three.’’ He grins at your brother. Aemond is speaking to a corpse.

Grief is a funny thing. You, for one, are horrified and frozen and clutch your throat to silence the cries that come out. When Diandra, screams at Aemond before her small legs pick up the pace and approach him quickly. Aemond simply turns, his sword in his dominant hand and waits with a grin for her to approach. Before he can chop her head off, the Dornish commander picks Diandra up by her hips. ‘’Let me go! I shall have my revenge!’’ Diandra screams, when kicking him. You are the commander very thankful. ‘’You are a monster!” She shouts at Aemond. He was staring at the corpses of his men and although you can’t quite tell what is going on inside his head, you can see he did not appreciate that comment.

‘’Diandra, shut up.’’ You beg her as the prince is reminded of you both. He already finds her annoying. He already is tested and challenged by her. 

He sees you. Perhaps he did before. But now he acknowledges your existence. You shelter your sister, aware he will kill you both.

Aemond looks at the corpse of your brother. He smirks at your trembling legs and the way you cling tightly to your sister. ‘’My. You're a pretty one.’’ He speaks, surprising you. He takes in your simple gown approvingly, treating it as a seductive cloth made of silk. 

It's a compliment. You aren't used to men flirting with you. You aren't used to any of this. 

‘’I am not.’’ You say instead, shielding your sister by tightly holding her against your chest.

The prince chuckles, staring a little too long at your lips.

‘’I quite disagree.’’ He murmurs to himself. He steps closer to you and you can smell a permanent almost stench of rotten meat and dead bodies as he comes closer. ‘’I have never known a septa to dress in such a way. And I have met a lot.’’ He says. 

You can’t imagine where a man like him met a septa.

‘’I have recently converted.’’ You hope he buys the lie. ‘’I chased her the moment I heard her ladyship was gone.’’ You tell the prince, nodding to your sister. 

He does not seem to care about Diandra's noble lineage. And that scares you. He must care, if he is to keep her alive. Diandra will be a difficult young, useless hostage that insulted him countless times already. He must see her value. ‘’That's Diandra of house Dawreyn. She is worth a lot if you were to ransom her.’’ A ransom would mean he can't hurt her. Not too badly. And you know your father too well. He would pay soon and get Diandra back, ensuring her safety once more.

For a moment, a brief moment, it seems likely that Diandra will protest. Perhaps even call you a traitor. She is close to ruining it all. But instead, she likely understands that you know the best way to save you both.

The prince takes in Diandra's glares and silk riding gown. He sighs as if he has to admit to himself that you indeed tell the truth. You are thankful for the simple beige gown you picked out today. A simple gown without any stitches or designs or patterns who won't give away that you are a Dawreyn as well.  He speaks, wettening his lips with his tongue. ‘’A woman of great schemes and great beauty. You are interesting.’’ There it is again. That gentle soft tone when he speaks to you. Yet it feels like a fox trying to lure a bunny out of its den. You know it's nothing more but a facade. 

Yet you try to negotiate with him. You try to get on his good side. A tiny bit as much as your heart allows. ‘’I know she made a fool of you, and I know we insulted you both. Yet I beg you to let her be. She is still a child.’’ You hope he likes the dramatic touch of your begging. He seems to like dramatics.

Instead of giving you his word as a gentleman, he stares off into the distance of your hometown. You become uncomfortable and turn your gaze away from him. ‘’Are you betrothed?’’ He asks as his men are busy fending off soldiers that try to keep coming to you and Diandra. 

‘’No.’’ You respond as you watch a single soldier be beheaded brutally. He survives the first attempt, and the blood splashes down his armor, and you can hear his screams before he bleeds out. The agreement remains. He won. Dolkburg is his. ‘’M-my prince, you can stop the fighting. We’ll let Lord Samwell know that you and Karst made an agreement-’’

His lips curl into a smirk as he briefly looks up from the moaning and screaming soldiers that beg for death and mercy.  ‘’I have no intention to stop this battle.’’ He sounds almost happy. Glad, delighted and peppy. Not how you would expect.

You don’t understand. Why waste good men and resources on a fight already won? Why kill innocents? ‘’But..why ever not? You are clearly on the winning side. What good will it do?’’ You sound like a little foolish girl.

He grins, amused. ‘’You’re a woman, so I don’t expect your innocent and pure mind to understand the way I think. These men are traitors. They defied my brother and his reign. They will answer for their crimes with fire and blood.’’ You need to stop this. Now. You watch his sword, where the blood of your brother still drips down. This is insanity.  ‘’Most men didn’t deny Aegon. You know this! Most men simply follow their lord. They don’t choose to die-’’ they don't even choose to follow their lord.

You might see it that way. But he does not. ‘’They made a choice. And they choose wrong. If you like, you can give them proper burial after since you are a septa.’’ You nod, unsure as to how you would even do so. You don’t know anything about septas or burials. And he knows it too, you can tell he was sarcastic.

‘’Married?’’ The prince asks as a casual follow-up. You ignore him as your father comes through the lines, pushing an army of soldiers through the broken gates. They fend off the first few guards. And they slay whoever is on their path. As they push forward, the other half of the army is riled up and follows them, with a powerful battle cry. Even the smallfolk has come out, rallied to their cause, with whatever weapons they could find. Some grab swords from fallen soldiers, others just use pans and knifes.

More and more soldiers on Aemond’s side die as the battle seems to turn.

Your lips begin to smile hopefully as Diandra applauds. Annoyed, Aemond glares at her. You are quick to stop her. ‘’I asked you something.’’ He groans when he grabs you by the throat. You are not choked but understand by the rage and insanity in his remaining good eye he is very close and tempted to do so.

‘’Are you married?’’ He repeats, almost spitting at you.

You are not sure why he asks. You are sure you don’t want him to know that you are unwed.

And you won't become his.

So you lie.

The word rolls easily over your lips as you pretend to think back of a love long lost. ‘’Widowed.’’ You speak your voice soft. ‘’He went to the Reach to fight. They say he was burned alive.’’ You know he was there. You know he killed and blazed dozens in the Reach. You hope he feels terrible about it. Yet he begins to smile again, careless and pleased. 

‘’I can live with that.’’ He chuckles in your ear. ‘’A woman as gorgeous as yourself is too pretty to be a widow forever. It's past time you moved on.’’ He lets go of you, pleased you answered him but annoyed it took you so damn long.

You absently nod. Until you have the eerie feeling that he might be referring to himself. 

Your father fights well and bravely. But to think he would win is a foolish thought. And eventually, he is captured and brought forward. ‘’Daddy!’' Diandra yells as they take him closer to her.

Almost happy with her, Aemond perks up and whispers something in the ear of a soldier close to him. The soldier runs off. 

Aemond approaches Diandra and grabs a handful of her dark locks, causing her to cry out. He throws her on her knees and forces the blade he carries on her neck, ready to behead her any moment. ‘’That is a child!’’ You seem to be the only one disgusted by this. 

He glares in your direction and another soldier grabs your arms. ‘’Do not harm the septa.’’ Aemond growls, warning him. The soldier lets go of you instantly. He turns his head to your father. ‘’Bend the knee or see your daughter die the way I killed your son as well.’’ Realization hits your father as the soldier brings Karst's head to him. Your father tears up helplessly as he nods. The head is tossed around between soldiers, before Aemond takes the skull of your brother and inserts his sword into the right eye of Karst. 

Your sister is the child, the small one, the weaker one. You must protect her. 

‘’Look away, Diandra!’’ You warn her, but it is too late. Diandra watches with her mouth open as Aemond cuts out one of the eyes of your brother, proudly as if its his trophy. Aemond laughs, taking in the eye. 

Karst’s blue gorgeous and bright eyes.

‘’He had gorgeous eyes. I bet he fucked a lot of women, didn’t he?’’ He asks your father, and you are appealed at the audacity of him. Your father does not respond, silent tears running down both his cheeks. Aemond chuckles, before kicking your father against his kneecaps. ‘’You can be silent all you wish, I like silence. Helps me think.’’ 

‘’I bet he had his eyes set on the Septa here.’’ Aemond continues, gesturing to you. ‘’That’s why he rode into Battle, that’s why he challenged me. Not for his useless brat sister, but because he had a hard one for her.’’ Your own brother. You know he is lying. But just that thought, makes you sick. He sees your disgust and your glare and smirks. ‘’Does that disgust you? My apologies.’’ 

Your father croaks out. ‘’And my other daughter? What will you do with Y/N?’’ You close your eyes in fear as cold sweat breaks out. You hear Aemond's boots turn around to face you and you open your eyes. When you do you are confronted with his rage and his displeasure. You helplessly tear up. ‘’Please, I know she's a bastard but she is my daughter. Certainly you can make an exception for once. We can even pay you.’’ He offers. ‘’We have gold, plenty of women, animals for your dragon, you can even burn me, if you like. But not my children. She is good, so is Diandra. They are sweet kind girls-’’

You don’t know Aemond very well. But he does not seem to care even a bit about money. He cares about justice, about honor and revenge. Gold is not important to him.

Disgusted as if he burned himself or as if you are a disgusting thing, Aemond pushes you in the dirt next to your sister. The blade switches necks. You feel it cold in your throat. ‘’You shouldn't have lied to me.’’ He hisses in your ear, forcing you to feel the blade taunt and slightly touch your neck. You whimper. You don't want to die.

‘’Y/n!’’ Diandra cries. 

Aemond ignores the protests. ‘’I've come to a wonderful conclusion: I will take this city, and I will take it in the name of my brother, King Aegon II.’’ That was to be expected.  ‘’So, since you are the ruling family, you will all bend the knee to me and I’lll decide what I’ll do with you traitors later.’’ You can’t imagine he will let your father live. Diandra has one final thing to say.

‘’You are a coward! You attack our home, you harass my sister and you kill my brother and for what?! Because we wouldn’t bend the knee to your drunken cunt of a brother?! You Greens claim that Rhaenyra’s children aren’t true Targaryens, but at least they aren’t true monsters!’

Aemond takes a deep breath once she has finished speaking. ‘’The little brat annoys me. Perhaps she needs discipline.’’ You freeze and watch as a soldier grabs Diandra before hitting her multiple times across her face until blood streams from her nose and tears roll down her cheeks. He smirks, folding his hands on his back. ‘’Much better.’’

You are horrified, still on your knees as Aemond presses you further down in the mud. You make a wordless prayer to the gods. ‘’As I said: I will take this city. I will bestow mercy on everyone who bends the knee.’’ Aemond says, and you can’t help but frown. Part of you know he is lying to the masses. He is lying and playing them. You’ve seen earlier that Aemond does not care about the people he kills. Your father nods, hestiant at first but understands you don’t have a choice.

You finally get up from the ground, carefully looking at Aemond for approval. He does not seem to care nor notice you at all anymore.

He gives his soldiers instructions. 

‘’Escort them to the bricks until I've decided that they can be released.’’ He speaks. ‘’Treat them with utmost respect. These people are nobility.’’ He warns the guards. A few nod, and your family is escorted away from you. Diandra cries your name when she is escorting to your home, where she will be held as a prisoner. ‘’Y/n! No!’’

Aemond sighs. The commander comes up to him. ‘’We rounded up around 300 survivors. And around 800 wounded men.’’ That is a joke compared to the troops that Aemond has. You don’t know his exact numbers but one glance behind you, and you don’t have to. You can count.

The prince thinks.

‘’Hm. Put the wounded out of their misery. And bring the survivors to the city gates.’’ He is going to kill the survivors. You know he is. That is why he wanted your father gone, he pretended to care so your father would go quietly.  Since Aemond is distracted with the surrender of your hometown, you easily slip past a few guards, quickly putting distance between you and him. 

You are almost at the gates when a hand grabs your arm, pulling you back. ‘’No! No, I don't want to go back!’’ You beg whoever holds your arm. You look straight into the face of the commander. He has a sorrowful pitiful look in his eye as he drags you back to Aemond who is waiting where you left him.

‘’On your knees.’’ He commands you the moment you are in front of him. He takes out the same sword he killed your brother with. He will kill you the same way.

‘’Why?’’ You whisper as a craven. ‘’I don’t want to die.’’ You confess softly.

His good eye rolls again, and he hisses at his soldiers. ‘’Help that simple woman.’’ He tells his guards and soldiers. Two men eagerly force you on your knees in front of the prince.

‘’I was so disappointed when I found out you had left my side.’’ He speaks the moment you are pushed on your knees. ‘’I thought you were smarter than to run away from me.’’ You are shocked for a brief moment. No one ever called you smart before. No one.

You huff, insulted and perhaps it helps that you know you will die: You have nothing left to lose. There is nothing you can say to hurt yourself even more. ‘’I saw the way you let go of me. You don't find me attractive anymore. I'm just a dirty bastard. Why waste your time with me? You’ll kill me eventually.’’

He chuckles, in a light, delighted manner. ‘’Kill you? No, no. That would be a shame of a pretty face.’’ Your face is touched, almost gently caressed and you are confused and terrified. You rather be with your family in a cell, than here. ‘’Now, I'm afraid that there is a punishment due for you.’’ He says, and he can’t hide his smirk.

You open your mouth to protest. Aemond takes the sword he killed your brother with, and makes sure that fresh blood is stained on the blade by running the sword, almost coating it in the blood of your brother by slashing open his corpse. The blade is now covered in crimson, red dripping blood. Aemond brings the blade to your face. He gently tilts his head and when he looks you in the eyes you know you have two choices. Submit or die. ‘’Lick my sword.’’ He says.

You hesitate. ‘’That is my brother. That is…disgusting.’’ You protest. Licking his blood, disrespecting his corpse and tasting his blood: it is all too much for you. You burst into tears.

Aemond sighs. ‘’As a Targaryen, I don’t quite see the issue.’’ He jests, causing the commander to chuckle, as well other soldiers. ‘’You can lick this sword or you can get on your pretty knees and die.’’ He says, carelessly. 

You hope he does not cut your tongue out with it. You lick the edge of the blade, softly careful not to hurt your own tongue. Aemond watches, his breath stuck in his throat as you gently lick the blood clean of his blade. You feel disgusted and sick after it, and you must to all you can to avoid throwing up. Aemond moves the sword,into his seath.

‘’You see that, men? These women have no self-respect, no dignity, no value. They are as sheep in the meadow, ready for a good ram to fuck them.’’ He speaks to the masses of the army he commands, using you as a example. You whimper when Aemond grabs you by the throat.

He throws you on your knees in front of him.

‘’Kiss my boots.’’ He hisses. ‘’Show me your obedience and you won’t be killed.’’ He promises you. ‘’Kiss them, or I will fly my dragon over your hometown and burn everything and everyone that you hold dear to ash.’’ You bend your head and leave two kisses on each his boots. You recoil when you taste the disgusting mud he walked through. 

Aemond grabs you from the ground, by the throat and roughly kisses you. You protest and try to flee him, but he holds you too tightly to escape. You are made a spectacle of. This is not desire, this is power.  ‘’Tell the men this one won't be hurt or touched without my approval. She's mine.’’  He barks at the commander and leaves with a posessive smack on your ass. You flinch, whimpering.

You understand your fate very well. The prince lifts your teary cheeks and kisses your lips, gentle and soft this time. A horse is brought to you both. ‘’You’ll ride with me.’’ He tells you. ‘’When we are riding through the city, you’ll hold your brother’s head for me. You hold it above your head, you show it around and you make sure that every fucking villager in this piss-forgotten-shithole understands who’s in charge now.’’ He groans in your ear.

You nod, terrified. His face and voice softens. ‘’I am so glad I found you before I sacked this place.’’ You hate that word with a burning passion. ‘’You might have gotten hurt.’’ He makes his voice soft when speaking to you, almost seductive and sweet. ‘’I might be staying a while. I hear the nights are dark and cold here. I need someone to keep me warm.’’

You don’t respond, not thrusting yourself to not cry. ‘’And who’s better fitted for that, than a nameless, bastard who dared to lie to me?’’ He lifts your chin so he can count the tears in your eyes, before they fall and roll down your cheeks.

‘’Get on the horse.’’ He says, commanding you. You clumsily climb on the horse, waiting for his further instructions. He climbs on the same horse, and wraps his bloodied hands around your waist, staining your dress. He takes the reins of the horse and directs it to where the majority of the survivors are rounded up.

You hold the head of your brother as a few soldiers from your father’s troops recognize you. Your hands shake yet you won't let go of your brother’s head. Aemond makes sure that you are surrounded by guards loyal to him before leaving. You remain alone at the castle gates, under guard. 

Aemond finally returns, with his dragon. He commands the survivors to be brought outside. You are forced on your knees in the grass, between bloodied bodies, missing body parts and arrows. Because he wants you to see and to remember well what comes next. He starts with the survivors who are the most injured. An old man around your father’s age can’t walk because of his bleeding legs. ‘’Let me help with you that.’’ Aemond offers the man a hand. The man smiles, through his pain. Aemond quickly takes out his sword instead, slashing at the injured leg until the plain muscle holding his leg together as thin threads is cut and the man screams. He collects the leg and feeds it to his dragon. After that, he feeds the man the leg belonged to.

Aemond forces around dozens of people to his dragon. Some are roasted first, screaming as they burn in their armor. Some are chopped up, cut up, slashed up, everything to make the meal sweeter for Aemond’s beloved Dragon. You remain on your knees, sobbing with every new victim for mercy by Aemond. Instead of doing so he grins, leaning and gives you his even more bloodied sword to lick clean. ‘’Save your voice, little Y/N. You are going to need it badly once we are alone.’’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''But Vhagar didnt you already publish-''

I did rewrote it. Aemond did not took the eye in the orginal one.

I found that a ...neat little addition:))

[mirai-e-jump]

Murakami Erica Photobook: Admiring Erica (select pages and translation below)

Publication: May 29, 2024

Erica's Story

An ordinary high school student who was suddenly scouted one day in Harajuku, won the Grand Prix of an audition, and quickly became a "ViVi" model. After that, she also expanded her activities as an actor, and by taking on the challenge of the Super Sentai series, Erica became the nation's "princess" loved by people of all ages and genders. Including stories about her beloved family and work, this is the beginning of Erica's true story, which can only be told in a photobook.

"Congratulations on the release of your photobook 💛. What were your thoughts when you heard about it?"

Somehow, I always thought about wanting to publish a style book or a book related to beauty someday, but I never considered a photobook at all! I was surprised at first, and I couldn't imagine how it would turn out, but I knew that if I teamed up with ViVi, it would definitely be stylish, so I was really looking forward to it!

"How did it feel to actually shoot?"

The moment we started shooting, I was so excited because the photos were so stylish and had an atmosphere that only ViVi can create!!! The clothes were cute and had alittle bit of an emotional vibe to them but with the lighting that's so ViVi, ViVi is the best~ 💛.

Family Stories

-Talkative and mischievous. I'm a lively girl who grew up carefree in Fukushima-

"Erica is loved by her family, fellow models, staff and co stars. What kind of child were you during your childhood?"

I did things at my own pace from the moment I was born. I wouldn't shout, and was the kind of baby who would look around at the new world with wonder. I've been talkative and mischievous since I was young. I was a lively child, running around at the front while dragging my younger sister, younger brother, and the neighborhood children along with me. I grew up carefree in the rich nature of my hometown, Fukushima, so of course I was good with bugs. I loved to play pranks, and would catch grasshoppers and cicadas and release them at home, where my mother would often become furious with me. In elementary school, I did swimming, karuta, and piano……Since I had plenty of energy, I was able to learn a bunch of different things. From middle school, I started to dress up alittle more, and became interested in fashion and cosmetics. I'd wear the magnetic earrings I bought at the general store, and borrow and try out my mother's eyeliner without permission. In middle school, I joined the Soft Tennis Club, and while leading a club centered life, I became addicted to "Detective Conan." Mori Ran-chan was so cool, that I even tried karate for a brief time (laughs). I fell in love with the scientific field because Haibara Ai-chan was so cool, and she made me aspire to become a science researcher. From that time on, I had an otaku mind set, and would always get completely into whatever I liked.

"You must've been an actively curious child."

I was always active! I was always willing to try anything without hesitating, and even now I'm still the type of person who's curious and quick to act on whatever I want to do.

"Your father is originally from Canada. Did you go to Canada often?"

My grandfather and grandmother lived there, so I used to go there often when I was younger. When I was in middle school, me and my younger sister would spend our Summer vacations in Canada. I'd speak English together with my father, so I was able to speak it when I was a child, but I regret that I gradually became less interested in English. Now, I think I want to study English again.

"Being blunt, were you popular?"

Eh, not really (laughs). The only story I can tell you that made me alittle bit excited was when I was in high school, a friend told me that a boy from another school wanted to know my contact info. Unfortunately, I don't have that many stories of bittersweet love 💛, as I tend to become friends with the opposite sex pretty quickly.

"What kind of girl were you in high school?"

I decided to seriously pursue a career in science when I was in my first year of high school, so I went to cram school and studied hard in order to focus on entrance exams. I was involved in club activities, such as baking sweets in the laid back Family Life Club. If I got a job, I'd probably return to my hometown, so I wanted to go somewhere where I could do what I loved while being a college student, I even though, "Maybe I can study abroad!" So, I guess leaving Fukushima was the image I had in mind for my life plans. Rather than saying, "I definitely want to go to Tokyo!" I just felt like college in a city would be more exciting. I hoped that in the future I'd be able to work for a company involved in the development and research of cosmetics.

-I can be my most relaxed self when I spend time with my siblings 💛-

"Are you close with your siblings?"

My younger sister is 1 year, and younger brother is 5 years apart from me, and the three of us used to play together when we were in elementary school. When I started to enjoy fashion in high school, I lent and borrowed clothes with my sister. Since moving to the capital, I've been spending more time with my sister and brother whenever they come to Tokyo, and we often play together. It's probably because I'm the eldest daughter, but I have a strong desire to do things for my younger sister and brother. I lived with my sister when I was in college, so we were together alot. My brother's a spoiled brat and would call me to say, "I'm going to Chiba tomorrow, let's go to Disney together!" or "I want to eat sushi," and so I'll go with him. My brother has been in Tokyo since April, so I'm planning to take him to lots of places. I can be my most relaxed self when I'm spending time with my siblings.

"Do you ever fight with your siblings?"

When I lived with my sister, she often scolded me about not doing housework. My sister got angry with me when I was too busy and put off doing the laundry or dishes (laughs). Even now, I feel really bad about that. My sister was the kindest, cooking dinner for me when I worked late at night and prepping my bath. When I complained about how tired I was from work, she just let it slide in a nice way. I appreciated that as well. She knows how to treat me. Of course, when I was really having a hard time, she'd be there for me and listen to me seriously at dinner. She's my younger sister, but she's become like an older sister to me and supports me emotionally. My sister is the one who gives me the most objective opinion. She's the only one who'll say, "Onee-san, you don't look good in that outfit."

-I'm working hard at my job to show my family good things!-

"Erica loves her family."

I think my family is really close. I didn't have much of a rebellious phase, but when I was in middle school, I would pretend to be abit cool and listen to music by myself with earphones. My parents were the type to let me do what I wanted, so I was free to do whatever. On Friday nights, when my father came home alittle early, I'd fill a big bowl with my favorite snack, order pizza, and watch a movie together. My grandmother and grandfather took care of me when I was a child because both my parents worked, so I'm also very close with my grandparents. Even now, if I have two or three days off, I go back to my parents house and tell my family everything about work. I feel refreshed when I have conversations with them because I can talk with them while organizing my thoughts. They're so positive about everything I do, so if I feel like I'm lacking energy, or my self esteem is alittle low, I'll just video call them. No matter which one I call, they always come up on the screen, they're both adorable parents, always wanting to talk to me before anyone else (laughs). Once I've reached the point where I can put a pause on work, I'd like to take a family trip while my grandfather and grandmother are still healthy. The world is changing rapidly, even in just one year, so I'd like to give back alot while I can.

"What does family mean to Erica?"

It's healing. Part of me works hard because I want to show my family good things. Because I grew up in a close family, I long for marriage and want to start a family myself. I hear that many people don't want to get married these days, but I really do! (laughs), I feel like, "If you want to get married, come to my house." If there's anyone out there who's a good person, I'd like them to come and join my family.

Beauty Stories

-My private time is devoted entirely to beauty. "Erica's method" is to make a plan and keep at it for a long time-

"What's the number one thing you're interested in right now?"

It's beauty! I actually really love beauty. I love skin care and cosmetics, but I'm also interested in pilates, moxibustion, acupuncture, nutrition, diet, and anything related to health in general. I love it so much, that I now spend most of my private time on beauty.

"How long have you been into beauty?"

When I was in high school, my father had an opportunity to reevaluate his diet, and since I also had a weak stomach, we started together. The first thing I took care of was my eating habits. I started eating less additives and prioritized the vegetables from my grandparents garden. From there, I became interested in intestinal health, and since I like to do research, I got more and more into it. Since then, food and health have always been on my mind. I think that my family created the base for my healthy diet. When I was in college, I cooked for myself with vegetables from Fukushima that were sent to me, and even now I still cook for myself. Just recently, during the filming of "Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger," I brought my own bento to keep myself healthy, including onigiri for breakfast and fruit for a snack. Food is important to maintain my figure, especially during busy times. But, when I go out to eat together with everyone, I don't worry about it and put priority on having a good time. I do care about it when I eat alone, so I like to find the right balance. Instead of making everything perfect, I try to be more flexible and make the best of what I have. The important thing is the long term, so I think it's those small steps and accumulations that have led me to where I am today.

-Occasional treats are OK! If I eat, I'll cover for it the next day with adjustments and exercise-

"How do you stay in shape?"

Honestly, when I first started modeling, I thought that if I gained weight, I wouldn't get any work. Currently I don't think it's enough to be thin, and I know that it's not everything, but when I was 18 or 19 years old, I was absolutely convinced that, "I should never be fat!" The idea of exercising never came up when I thought about eating less. I went without meals for about two days for my first swimsuit shoot, which was a complete disaster as I got heat stroke and felt sick. I learned to reflect on why I needed to be thin even though I was ruining my physical condition. Now, I think it's more beautiful to have abs rather than just being thin, and I've started to take up pilates not just to keep thin, but to improve my posture. I like pilates because it builds more flexible muscles than weight training. Exercise makes you more positive, and it's good for your mental health. When I have time, I sometimes go swimming. Now, I go to do pilates 2-3 times a week, and have incorporated walking. I love walking, so I wear comfortable shoes and try to walk around as much as possible when I can.

"What are you conscious of in your daily diet?"

I eat three well balanced and proper meals. If I don't take in enough nutritions, my complexion will be ruined. Now, because of the action in King-Ohger's stage play, I have to use alot of energy, so I eat sweets every time I take a break. So, I make sure to bring dried sweet potatoes, chocolate with at least 70% cacao, and fruit for snacking. I think it's important to know what to eat, not to refrain from eating. When I occasionally receive sweets as gifts, I enjoy them and try to move my body as much as possible. In my refrigerator is natto, mozuku, mekabu, and also dried wakame and koya dofu. The freezer is always stocked with burdock and beans. When taking meals on location, I just put bonito flakes and miso in a soup jar, add hot water, and I'm good to go. Miso soup is truly great. Speaking of, the miso by my grandmother is homemade. I heard that bacteria is important, so for awhile, I'd mix my grandmother's homemade amazake with yogurt.

"What's important in maintaining your figure?"

Of course, I don't always follow a stoic diet, if there's something I'm concerned about, I eat it, but I try not to do it continuously. People don't gain that much weight if they overeat for a day or two, but if you reward yourself every day and continue to do so for a week or more, it becomes a habit and will absolutely affect your figure. Swelling is a habit after all, so I'll take care of it on that day. Of course, not eating is also stressful, so when I eat, I try to exercise as much as I can. I used to worry about swelling, but now I don't. I'm more concerned about what kind of condition I want to be in on a regular basis. Rather than cramming everything together and doing alot of different things, I'd rather be in a state where I can make consistent progress every day and not have to do anything special. That's what motivates me, and when I want to have fun, I enjoy myself to the fullest and then make adjustments the next day. I guess that's the most like me.

-Always checking beauty care info while taking a long bath!-

"Tell us your at home beauty routine!"

At home, I use a foam roller to stretch and loosen up my muscles. I also use an easy to apply sticker type of moxibustion to warm up pressure points on my feet and improve blood circulation. When I'm tired, I love to use "Kyusoku Jikan Pressure Point Stimulating Gel Sheets" and going to bed because it makes my legs feel lighter 💛 also, it's important to take a long bath. I add bath salts like epsom salt and himalayan salt, and while soaking in the tub for 40 to 50 minutes, I'll search for beauty care info. When I want to warm myself up, I sometimes add sake. When I sleep, sometimes I'll wear medical compression socks. Also, I heard that it's good to sleep with a warm body, so until Winter ends, I put disposable hand warmers on my futon and wear "Nightmin Warming Earplugs" when I sleep. Recently, I bought a Zojirushi humidifier and it works great! It's good for my health and makes my skin feel soft.

"Do you take supplements?"

Honestly, I don't think anything can compete with food, but for this photobook, I also took extra of my favorite supplements. Recently, I've been taking Lypo-C in the morning and Lypo-CC+D at night. When I was alittle concerned about the condition of my skin, I got a prescription for coix seed from my hospital. I started taking it to treat water warts, but at the time, I got compliments on my skin, so I only take it before important events. Plus, I take Vitamin B for skin and fatigue, and glutathione for when I'm drinking alcohol. I heard that glutathione improves liver metabolism, and since I also like to drink, I always keep some handy. I'm currently interested in collagen supplements. As I get older, my problems will also change, so I'm always exchanging information with hair and makeup artists and beauty authors, and I actively try out new things that interest me. By the way, if I'm really busy, I can also rely on nutritional supplements. I use Chocola BB and Alinamin, and also the Orthomol that I bought from Korea, as they give me energy.

-I love acupuncture 💛 I also incorporate beauty clinics for skin care-

"Tell us what beauty places Erica goes to!"

I've been going for acupuncture once a month for about 3 years. I started going to improve my poor circulation, sensitivity to cold, and stiff shoulders, and I became addicted to how good I felt when waking up the next day. It seems to have a detoxifying effect that makes my body feel refreshed. The doctor is very knowledgeable about beauty and taught me some basics, like because I have a weak stomach, eating too many raw vegetables isn't good for my digestion, and that I should avoid coffee as the first thing I have in the morning.

"Do you go to beauty clinics?"

I go! Basically, my main focus is skin care, as I had rough skin around the time I moved to Tokyo, so I started looking for a beauty clinic to fix it, and then I started going to different ones. Laser toning treatments had visible results, and that's how I became hooked. Currently, I use a proper amount of both aesthetic and beauty clinics. I regularly go to "Aesthetic Salon CIEL" for facial contouring, where even sensitive skin can be managed. I don't do strong procedures that require downtime, but when I want to feel the power of medical treatments, such as toning or making acne scars less visible, I sometimes turn to cosmetic medicine. Recently, I heard that titanium lifting is a good thing, so I immediately made an appointment. I'm also interested in skin boosters. The idea is to not just slim down facial lines, but to have skin that looks healthy and tight.

-Beauty is my hobby. I always want to improve myself-

"What skincare regimen are you into lately?"

Since the beauty clinic will be thorough, my skin care regimen is basically protective. Currently, I love carbonated beauty. I like carbonated face washes, and use things like suisai's "Beauty Clear Fizzy Powder Wash," which I think as a side effect feels like it refreshes the area around my face! For a period of time, I was so addicted to it, that I used to make carbonated water with a "Soda Stream" and wash my face with it. I'll often use foam carbonation packs on my scalp. I also like fermented ingredients and will try out various kinds.

"What is Erica's goal with beauty?"

Smooth and soft skin! And above all else, health. Rather than wanting to be like someone else, I always want to better my image. Beauty for me is a hobby. It lifts my spirits and helps me "reset." It's my precious time 💛.

Work Stories

-I want to try something new! I dove into this world out of curiosity 💛-

"Now then, let's look back at Erica's work. When was the turning point?"

I participated in "High School Quiz" when I was in my second year of high school. I won the competition and was going on to compete in the national level, and while I was walking around Harajuku, excited to be in Tokyo for the first time, I was scouted by my current agency. I had previously been scouted in my hometown, but I turned them all down because I was preparing for exams. However, they asked for my contact info since I wasn't affiliated with an agency, and so we exchanged info. About six months later, I was recommended to audition for ViVi by the agency, and thankfully, I won the Grand Prix and became a ViVi model.

"Why did you decide to audition?"

I'm not swayed by trends, I'm just an ordinary girl. I had read ViVi before, but I was just a high school student who thought that the entertainment industry was a world I had no connection to, and that I'd just go on to higher education and find a job. Still, I like to try new things, and I thought it'd be simple and interesting, so I dove into this world out of curiosity.

"You auditioned as part of the experience and it changed your life."

I had a simple feeling about the audition, thinking, "I get to go to Tokyo, it's like a trip, it's going to be fun 💛." That's why I was really surprised when I passed. More than anything, my mother was happy. My mother's a huge fan of Hasegawa Jun-san, so when I told her about the ViVi audition, she was excited and said, "I think Erica will definitely become a ViVi model!" and I think she was more excited than I was when I passed. I was also happy to win the Grand Prix, but it was memorable to see how the many people around me, including my family and grandparents, were happy for me.

"Was there ever a moment during an audition when you thought you'd be accepted?"

Not at all. For the second round of selection, we were allowed to wear casual clothes, but I was told by my agency to "wear a white T shirt and shorts!" and I went to the venue as instructed, but everyone there was very fashionable. I thought, "Ah, I look completely out of place. This is the end." But, on the other hand, I think I stood out (laughs). Until the end, it never once crossed my mind that, "Maybe I'll be accepted?!" I felt like I'd just be lucky if I made it to the final round.

"The final selection was on the runway at the "Girls Award." Were you nervous about walking in front of an audience?"

To be honest, at the time I had no idea how enormous the "Girls Award" was. I was nervous, but I didn't really feel like I was standing on a big stage. It felt like, "There are so many famous people here!" If I failed here, I wouldn't have been able to study for entrance exams, and I wouldn't know what to do about going on to college.

"Tell us how you felt when you passed!"

Simply put, I was shocked. I received a bouquet of flowers from Yamashita Tomohisa-san and thought, "Ah, so this is Tokyo. I'm standing in the same place as a celebrity." I think I was rather calm.

"When did you finally realize that you had become a model?"

I commuted from Fukushima during high school, but at first I didn't get much work, and I guess I didn't really feel like a model. During my first year in college, I was so focused on my schoolwork to earn credits that I had very few jobs outside of ViVi. Toward the end of my first year, the amount of work gradually expanded, and I felt that my modeling work was becoming more and more fulfilling.

-Balancing schoolwork and being a ViVi model. My friends were there to help me get through it-

"Did you decide not to apply for college after being accepted as a ViVi model?"

I had always wanted to go to college, and I thought it'd be more fun to try different things and absorb different things than to follow one path. Since I suddenly became a model, I think I had the sense that college was my base, and I just happened to be lucky enough to be able to model. Since the path of modeling is a narrow one, I was determined to try to find a job if I were to stop modeling. I went on to study business administration at a science college, and what I studied has led me to where I am today, and as a result, many things have turned out well. The biggest change since becoming a ViVi model is that it's become easier to try new things. I think I've become more willing to try anything and everything without being afraid.

"Was it difficult to balance college with your career?"

In my first and second year, I prioritized my studies, and I didn't feel like I was doing that much work, so it wasn't hard. I was also living on my own for the first time and enjoying college life. In fact, I even talked to my agency about wanting to work more. But, it wasn't easy getting work, so I was prepared to do my best for when the opportunity arose. Around the beginning of my second year, I started taking more online classes due to the covid pandemic, which led to more jobs outside of ViVi, so I started to enjoy modeling more. Since that time, I've been trying my hand at acting during long vacations. The end of my fourth year (second semester) was honestly a tough time for me because I was balancing modeling, acting, and schoolwork. However, I think I was able to overcome these challenges due to having friendly competition with my college friends.

"What inspired you to start acting?"

It all started when I was asked if I wanted to audition for the drama "Black Cinderella." Everything was new to me, so I didn't know right from left, and it all happened so fast~. I did the best I could everyday, and afterwards I'd feel like I was burnt out. My first acting job was a bigger role than I expected, and the pressure was also intense. I had to memorize my lines and act. I started it casually, wanting to take on a new challenge, but it was harder than I imagined. I felt so tense for so long, that when the drama ended and I went to a ViVi photo shoot, I couldn't help but cry because I felt so relieved. I think I was able to overcome a large part of it because I was blessed with the right people. I'm still good friends with the Black Cinderella members, and my connection with its staff led me to my current job with King-Ohger. I'd like to help others someday myself, but I can't afford to do so yet. I'd like to return the favor someday.

"Did Black Cinderella inspire you to become an actor?"

Honestly, I felt I had to work harder because I couldn't do anything. I didn't have anything in mind for my next project, but I started attending private lessons that I found on my own, preparing for the day that would someday come.

-If I'm going to do the same thing for a year, I want to spend a year different from the one before. With this in mind, I challenged myself to Super Sentai-

"Erica's popularity has grown dramatically with King-Ohger, but how did it feel to take on the challenge of joining Super Sentai?"

When I was in my fourth year of college, I was asked to audition. But, to be honest, I wasn't sure if I'd accept the role at first. It isn't often you get approached for an offer for Super Sentai, so I think it was fate that I was asked. However, I talked to my parents about what to do since it was too different from the career I had been doing up to that point. At that time, my parents told me that I had once said, "If I'm going to do the same thing for a year, I want to spend a year different from the one before." I had forgotten those words, but when I heard them, I thought that was the way I wanted to live my life, so I made the decision to take it.

"What worried you the most?"

Honestly, Super Sentai has a tighter schedule than regular dramas, and you have to focus on your role for a year and a half, so I was worried that I wouldn't be able to work as a model. I thought that if I left for a year and a half, alot of new kids would come in during that time, and that once I went, I might not be able to come back. As you can imagine, I was hardly able to shoot for ViVi when filming for Super Sentai began. The number of projects decreased all at once, and there were months where I had no shoots at all, which made me feel very lonely. I couldn't wait to appear in ViVi.

"That was the most difficult time for you to balance both."

When the number of projects decreased, I wondered if ViVi no longer needed me. I wanted to spend more time modeling, but I also had to make sure I was doing my acting work, so I was really stressed out. I wanted to make ViVi my top priority in the past and still do. But, I didn't want to give up the acting career that I've secured. I was conflicted and thought, "I want to do both!" Moreover, I also had to give up modeling to take on Super Sentai, but my acting wasn't perfect, and it was really hard to keep up with everyone. I was also writing my college thesis at that time, so I was full of energy both physically and mentally. In my spare time between filming, I communicated with my professor and worked with all my might to finish my thesis.

"If you had to give yourself a score as an actor, what would it be?"

It'd still be a minus. However, I think it's a huge plus in my life. My values ​​have changed in alot of ways. At first, I thought I was a model and not suited for acting, but recently, I've come around to where I think acting might be kind of fun.

"What did you gain from working hard in modeling, schoolwork, and acting?"

It all comes down to experience and time, doesn't it? In both modeling and acting, you learn by doing things over and over again, so in that sense, I think the past year and a half has been really important. I tried to pick up everything I could, and absorbed lots of different things. Also, by trying to do many things and working hard, I don't focus too much on one thing, so I don't have to think about unnecessary things. Besides, people I've worked with in the past say they want to work with me again. In the entertainment world, you don't have a job unless someone needs you, so I feel like I'm able to work thanks to people like that. All of my work comes about through fortunate connections, so I want to cherish each and every one of those connections.

-Modeling and acting, I want to do it all. That's because I love it all!-

Please give a message for those who are struggling to balance multiple things they want to do!

If you have alot of things you want to do right now, I think it's okay to try doing both. Of course, there'll be hardships, but sometimes you'll find help from places you least expect. It's important to have goals in life, as it'd be a waste to spend time doing nothing. In my case, both modeling and my acting jobs have had a big impact on my private life. I feel that we can learn alot about how to live from our work.

"From now on, you'll work hard to balance being both a model and an actor."

Currently, I really enjoy working as a model as I did before. It's like I'm back 💛. I've had very little time off this year, but it's been so fulfilling that I don't find it tiring at all. I think it's best to have a job while you still can. Some models focus on acting, but I want to keep being a model and actor at the same time because I love it all. I love ViVi, and I'd like to increase what I can do based on that, and give back to ViVi what I've gained in other fields. Some people leave a group or graduate from a magazine to take the next step, but I think it's good to try a variety of things while staying in the same place, and I think studying and trying different things at the same time, rather than just one thing, fits my way of life.

"Since overcoming the challenges of balancing studies and a job, has your attitude toward work changed?"

In the past, I used to think that I had to be cool or be nice to get a job, but now I think I've become able to prioritize being myself. Even with ViVi, I used to follow the backs of my seniors, but before I knew it, I became a senior myself, and I felt I had to stand tall. Sometimes I think I need to be more firm with my juniors and show them that I'm good at what I do. However, I think it'd be better to be friendly and expose my faults, because then people would talk to me openly. Of course I do it when I need to, but I think that maybe it's more like me not to try too hard. I can't "graduate" when I haven't done anything yet. I feel like I want to be spoiled even more.

"What kind of place is ViVi to Erica?"

ViVi has a very strong sense of camaraderie, and I feel like we all look out for each other and help each other improve. ViVi is my home, my family, and a place that inspires me. Modeling is also where my roots are, so I'd like to challenge myself to various things without losing sight of my role as a model.

[princess-geek]

White Peonies (Part I)

Book: Desire & Decorum  

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)  

Summary: Another peek into the past, this time to lift the veil on Mary’s life and three generations of fascinating women of the Howard family. 

Main Pairing: Vincent Foredale x Mary Howard.  

Word Count: +/- 7280

Rating: General (but with light mentions to adult/violent situations, sickness and death).  

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. 💖Special thanks to @rosesnink for proofreading. 

💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’  

(December 1945 )

After the war, the Captain James Arthur Howard returned to Grovershire, his hometown, with the love and saviour of his life, his Italian fiancé, Elena Moretti. They got married on December 24th of that year. 

The couple settled in James Howard's small cottage. The war had interrupted the works, so it needed a lot of love and sweat to make it comfortable again.  

The first few months were hard, but that didn't discourage the newly-weds. Together, they finished the works on their modest home. 

Taking advantage of the skills honed during the war, James opened a small automobile repair shop. Elena worked at home, but no less hard. She baked cakes and biscuits in the Italian way for the village tea shop and sold the vegetables she grew in her garden at the market. 

They had two children: Thomas, born in 1947 and Sophia in 1950.  

At the beginning of the 60s, the Howard’s future seemed promising: James had a lot of work and had to take on an employee to help. Thomas was showing interest in mechanics and was already working as his father's apprentice on Saturdays. James had high hopes for his son. He dreamed of Thomas becoming a mechanical engineer. Besides continuing to make cakes and cookies for the teahouse, Elena had started to cook pizzas to order a few days a week. She got Grovershire hooked on her Italian flavours; Sophia had passed her Eleven-plus with flying colours. 

However, the summer of 1961 was shadowed by tragedy. Thomas caught pneumonia and could not resist the consequences of the disease. He passed away on September 1st of that same year, leaving a deep scar of loss in the family. 

This caused two very different reactions: James became more demanding towards Sophia, and Elena became an overprotective mother. 

Sophia finished her studies with distinction. James Howard's sister, who lived in London, tried to convince her brother to send her niece to London. She was planning to get Sophia a job at the bank where her husband was working. Despite the aunt and niece's pleas, James and Elena refused to be apart from their daughter. 

Nevertheless, Sophia was determined to not let her parents' fears stop her to blossom. Even though there weren't many job opportunities in Grovershire, she found a position as the doctor's secretary. 

She was a quick learner, so in a short time, Sophia was helping the doctor with some procedures, showing great competence. Dr Morrison encouraged her to become a nurse. 

Despite her parents' reluctance, Sophia liked that idea and was saving money for nursing school. Becoming a nurse would not only allow her to do something she enjoyed, but also conquer her independence. 

Therefore, besides her job at the doctor's office, Sophia never missed the opportunity for any extra work.  

However, one of these extra jobs would change her life completely. 

Mr Oliver Paterson, a handsome and clever young lawyer, arrived in the small town to take over his great-uncle's office. As there weren’t many legal disputes in regions like Grovershire, Mr Paterson needed a secretary only for a couple of hours a week, so, on the recommendation of Dr Morrison, he hired Sophia. 

Among legal proceedings books, letters, stacks of papers to organize, tea and Italian biscuits, the cordial relationship between employer and secretary didn't take long to become something more. Sophia didn't expect to fall in love, but in a few months, she couldn't think of anything other than a future with Oliver. 

She was so confident in a life with him that within a few months, Sophia introduced Oliver to her parents. His charm won over the Howards, who welcomed him as a member of the family. 

Thus, when she found out she was pregnant, Sophia wasn't too worried. That would speed things up, and soon they would get married. Even though she couldn’t work for a year or two, Oliver made enough for their little family and her nest egg would allow them some extra comforts. 

Her dreams and her heart shattered when she told Oliver she was expecting a child. Upon hearing the news, he not only refused to take on the child, but also announced that he was moving to the USA, quoting the bastard, ‘to work at an important international law firm'.  

If that was true, Sophia never bothered to confirm. Overnight, the charming Mr Paterson disappeared without a trace, owing her money and leaving a child without a father. 

Disillusioned, ashamed and fearing her parents' reaction, Sophia fled to London to her aunt's house. Upon learning of the rumour that Oliver had gone to the USA, the Howards feared that Sophia had run away with him. The couple was losing hope when James's sister called to say that her niece was there. James and Elena came to London to join her daughter and the rest of the family for the holidays. 

Despite her fears, with her aunt's help, Sophia told her parents she was expecting during the holidays. Those were the saddest holidays since Thomas' death, but her parents reacted better than Sophia expected.  

They had already lost a son, so even though they were not ecstatic about their daughter's situation, they assured her of their love and support every step of the way. 

Sophia returned to Grovershire with her parents. Ignoring the scandal caused by gossipers, the family prepared to welcome the baby. 

This time, it was her parents who were making plans for Sophia to go to nursing school. They would take care of the baby for as long as necessary. 

On August 8, 1970, Mary Helen Howard was born. The labour went well, but Sophia caught a serious infection at the hospital, and died a few weeks later. 

It was another terrible loss for the Howards, but this time, they had a beacon of hope to hold on. Baby Mary became the reason for their lives. James and Elena decided that they would not let the shadows of the past dim their granddaughter's light. 

Mary was a lively and healthy child. There was some drama in her teens, nothing that wasn't normal and that they couldn't deal with. 

Since childhood, she had revealed a natural talent for music, dazzling everybody with her voice and piano skills on Sunday services and school plays. 

Full of pride, the grandparents bought Mary a small piano, making her promise to keep good grades though. She kept her promise and finished high school as one of the best in her class. 

Nevertheless, from an early age, Mary showed signs of wanting something different. Elena could understand her granddaughter's heart. Before the war, she had dreamed of becoming an opera singer. In fact, Elena had tried to escape to Milan a couple of times during her adolescence.   

In addition to her talent, Mary had the aura of a diva, like the Italian prima donnas. Elena saw how she fascinated everyone who listened to her, as if her voice could cast a spell. Such enchantment power could give her much success, but it could also open the door to some heartbreak. As a grandmother, she could only prepare Mary for life the best she could…and prepare James too.  

When Mary turned 18 and told them she was going to move to London to pursue her dream of becoming a singer, her grandparents buried their fears and let her fly. 

Unfortunately, Elena and James didn't live long enough to see the first fruits of Mary's labour. 

******** 

Even though she was aware it wouldn't be a fairy tale, some obstacles along the way made Mary’s heart waver. 

During her first few months in London, she lived with a great-aunt. Mrs.  Lee knew her great-niece's talent, so more than just a house, she wanted to help her pursue her dream. Even at short notice, she managed to get Mary to apply to the Royal Academy of Music and get an audition. Mary was not accepted that year, but her great-aunt encouraged her to take a sabbatical and prepare to apply in the following year. 

Sadly, her grandfather's sister died suddenly, and her cousins sold the house immediately.  

As if she had predicted what was going to happen, her great-aunt had found her a job as a live-in maid. It was far from perfect; however, it gave her a roof over her head. The job was allowing Mary to save some money but depriving her of enough time energy to dedicate to the music. 

On one of the nights off, Sophia and Dahlia, one of her coworkers, went to a pub in another part of the city. It was a cosy place; the people were nice and there was live music that night. They were having so much fun that the girls didn't notice the time passing until the first ring of the bell. They asked for one more pint. 

“This one's on me, girls. It’s my last night here, and you're my last clients. Cheers!” The waitress said, drinking a pint with them. 

As she drank, Mary found herself watching the musicians arranging their instruments. One of them was particularly attractive, but it wasn't what lit her spirit. Mary had an idea. “Do you know if they will hire someone to replace you?” She asked the waitress. 

“My boss interviewed some candidates today. I don't know whether any of them were selected.” 

“I am interested in the position. I have some experience. Besides, I'm also a singer. I would save your boss some money by performing on nights like tonight.” Her experience was limited to a summer job at the town pub, though, but she tried to sound as confident as possible. It was a long shot, but at least she could do what she loved for a couple of hours a day. 

“After making money, Mr Brown's favourite thing is saving money.” The waitress laughed. “I'll meet him here in the morning to settle our accounts. Show up here, maybe he'll fancy you.” 

With Dalia’s help, Mary called sick day. Pretending to leave the house to go to the doctor, Mary went to the pub and presented her proposal. 

“Miss Howard, are you aware that I won't pay you not a penny more for singing, right? At least, not until you give me evidence that your performances will make a profit.” 

Mary nodded. Mr Brown asked to take a pint and prepare a couple of drinks. Her hands were shaking, and she could feel the sweat running down her back. Then he asked her to sing a song. From her point of view, it didn't go very well, but he didn't seem to hate it. 

“You're not very fast, but you look like someone who learns quickly. Very good, Miss Howard. I'll hire her for a month to see how she goes. No guarantees! You start tonight. Welcome to ‘The Black Panther'!” 

Even with guilt on her conscience, for the first few days, Mary pretended to be sick and sneaked out to the pub. After a week working there, Mr Brown showed no signs of being unhappy with her work, so Mary resigned. 

She was without a roof over her head again, but she managed to persuade Mr Brown to let her sleep for a few days in a sleeping bag at the back of the pub. Dahlia let her shower and wash clothes secretly at her former bosses' house. 

A few days later, Mary found a room in a flat shared by college students who hung around the pub. They were noisy and even more messy, but that wasn't what kept her up at night. 

It's been almost two months since she had started working there and Mr Brown still hasn't allowed her to perform, not even a song in karaoke night. Every day she took the guitar with her in the hope of having an opportunity. 

Dahlia offered to try to get her job back as a maid. Mary was tempted to accept. 

Arriving at the pub in an afternoon, Mary found Mr Brown very distressed around the karaoke machine. 

“This is a disaster! The machine will never be ready in time for tonight! ‘The Golden Lion’ will feast on my clients tonight!” He mumbled dramatically to himself.  

Mary saw an opportunity in his drama and volunteered to perform. After thinking for a while, Mr Brown concluded that it was better to have an amateur singer than to run the risk of clients swapping him for another feline. 

Mary barely had time to feel nervous over the next few hours. While carrying out the evening's tasks, she chose what she was going to sing and reviewed the chords in her head. Dahlia hurriedly brought her a change of clothes and some makeup, so Mary could get ready. 

Minutes before going onto the small stage, nervous butterflies invaded her body. She was so tense that could barely open her mouth. Playing with the gold necklace that her grandmother had given her, a familiar melody began to play in her head, calming the butterflies. Although she couldn’t speak Italian, Mary had heard her grandmother sing it so many times that the verses flowed like a Milanese diva: ‘E quest' è il fiore del partigiano /O bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao, ciao, ciao/E quest'è il fiore del partigiano / Morto per la libertà”. 

Feeling warmer in her heart, Mary picked up the guitar and sang to the pub's customers as if she were singing at a packed opera. 

She did not remember how many songs she sang that night, for as soon as the first notes left her guitar and her lips, Mary lost track of the world around her, only occasionally being awakened by applauses. 

“Not bad for a girl from Grosshire.” Mr Brown said counting the money at the end of the night. 

“It’s Grovershire, but thank you. I hope there will be more nights like this.” Mary tried to decipher his intentions. 

Mary started to perform once a week at the pub and hosting the karaoke nights. Mr Brown was cheap, but he was fair, sharing part of the profit with Mary. Thanks to the extra money, Mary could leave the chaos of the students’ flat and rent a studio. It wasn't big, but to her it was her own Buckingham Palace. 

For months, customers old and new came every week to listen to the nightingale of ‘The Black Panter’. 

One night, after her concert, a woman gave her a business card. She asked Mary to stop by her office the next day. “I can’t promise you the world, but I can put you on a bigger stage.” 

‘Lemay Events 

– Your dream, come true’  

Intrigued, Mary showed up there on the next day. Mrs.  Lemay, the woman who had approached her the night before, explained that their event organisation company was growing, and they needed a full-time singer at their service. 

“Your voice, Miss Howard, is divine and deserves more than weddings and corporate parties. I'm sure someone with more power than me will listen to you and take you where you deserve.” 

Even if that didn't happen, at least she wouldn't have to share the songs with the beers. Despite the salary wasn't much higher, it would allow her to save up for a demo. 

Working with Mrs.  Lemay, Mary travelled around the British islands, singing for all kinds of people and occasions... even funerals. Wherever she went, Mary enthralled all who listened to her and made Mrs.  Lemay prospers. Over time, Mary and Mrs.  Lemay had become close friends. After her grandparents were dead, Mrs.  Lemay was the closest thing Mary had to a family. 

At times, her charms attracted some unwanted attention. Not all of them were drunk wedding guests. Some of those who tried their luck were decent and handsome guys. However, Mary ignored any advances, whether drunk or sober. Except if they brought flowers. Mary always accepted the flowers. Especially if they were peonies. 

Not that her mother's unfortunate affair with her boyfriend (or ‘The Piral’1 as her grandmother referred to him when she thought Mary wasn't listening) made her sceptical about love. Her grandparents' example had shown her that true love was real and wonderful. Mary had a sweetheart in high school, but she had decided long ago to prioritise her dream over romance. 

One morning, Mary and the musicians were preparing the repertoire for a wedding, when Mrs.  Lemay arrived at the office ecstatic. An obscenely rich guy had hired them to organise his party at The Trafalgar St. James. 

“He hinted that there will be royalty among the guests. I promised him nothing less than the pinnacle of perfection.” Then, Mrs.  Lemay turned to Mary “Take care of your voice over the next few weeks, Mary. Take a vow of silence if necessary. This is a lifetime opportunity!” 

Mrs.  Lemay hardly slept for weeks to get everything to beyond magnificent. 

*****

Mary had never been there before, but the hotel certainly never had shined as brightly as it did that night. 

She was determined to shine as well. Mrs.  Lemay told her some important names in the music industry were among the guests. She rented an exquisite burgundy dress for the evening so that Mary's figure would not pass unnoticed in the opulence of the room. 

Before the party starts, the hosts went backstage to greet the musicians. Although obscenely rich, the Sinclaire’s did not match to the stereotype of the rich snob people. The husband was clearly the more extroverted of the pair shaking hands with everyone and exuding a good mood. Though more discreet, the wife seemed to be a very sweet person. She was holding a cute toddler in her arms. When Mary tried to play with the little boy, he hid in his mother's red hair. 

Behind the curtain, the sumptuous room was intimidating. There were many famous faces among the guests, including musicians and singers she admired. She felt a knot tightening her stomach. Mary thought she was going to throw up before getting on stage.  

“Head up, dear Mary!” Mrs.  Lemay encouraged. “This night will change our lives forever.” 

**

Despite the applauses from the audience at the end of the first part, Mary came back to the dressing room very frustrated with herself. Her nervousness had gotten out of control, woken up her parodic perfectionist side. 

“Mary, that’s fine, no one noticed got the lyrics wrong. I didn't notice it myself.” Mrs.  Lamy quickly prepared some tea to calm her down. Mary was her main asset that night, she couldn't let her lose control. 

Mary was about to take the first sip, when she was interrupted by a loud noise.  The loud knock on the door only irritated her even more. Annoyed, she set the cup down with such force that she broke it, staining her dress with tea. “Shit!”  

Mary gathered herself as best she could to open the door. Standing t the door, there was a young man. He was very tall with an aristocratic bearing.  

“There is no need to attack the door. You scared me!”  

“I…I’m sorry, Miss Howard, it was not my intention.” He said in a rather posh accent. Despite his imposing appearance, he seemed to be very nervous as he faced her. 

“May I help you, my lord?”  

“How do you know…?” 

“I didn’t know for sure, but I noticed that you seem to be very close to Mr Sinclaire, so there was a high probability that you had some title.” She made sure her words had a harsh tone. She didn’t like to sound like a diva but the last thing she needed that night was a playboy looking for an unwary girl. Men like him only brought problems to women like her. 

She looked him straight in the eyes to be sure he was understanding that he had no chance with her. That technique had worked on other occasions. Nevertheless, looking at him more carefully for those seconds, she couldn't help but notice that he was very handsome, with all the attributes of the charming princes. In addition to a breathtaking shade of blue, Mary noticed something else in his eyes that was pulling her towards him with an overwhelming force. 

“Vincent Foredale, at your service, Miss Howard.”  He kissed her hand gently. “I have to say I’m bewitched… my body, my soul… your voice is divine…Would you be so kind as to agree to go out with me after your performance? There’s a lovely place near here that’s open until late…” 

“You can stop right there! This isn’t my first fancy party, so I know how this end with men like you…or rather, how you want it to end… and I’m not interested. Did you really think you would convince me with a Jane Austen paraphrase? Points for erudition, but no thanks.” Mary closed the door in his face, scared by what he was making her feel at that moment. She leaned against the door, trying to process what had just happened. 

Despite her harsh words, the young lord didn't give up and remained at the door, declaring his good intentions. “I’m sorry if some called gentlemen took improper liberties with you, Miss Howard, but I assure you I have the best of intentions. If you are still listening, Miss, I’m just asking for a chance to get to know you better. I feel your voice is just the pale reflection of your beautiful soul. Please, I will do anything to prove my pure intentions. I will be at your disposal all night if you change your mind.” 

“He seems to be a very decent guy, Mary.” Mrs.  Lemay smiled. 

“You can’t be serious, Mrs.  Lemay! I don't have time to play Cinderella!” 

"Cinderella never asked for a prince charming. She just asked for a night off to have fun. You are already at a glamorous party and wearing a beautiful dress. Why don't you have some fun? I can see that you liked what you saw and heard, Mary, don't deny it. I know you better than you know yourself. Bonus, he's very handsome.” 

“He is, but I can’t…” Mary was torn between following what she had set in her mind or following the impulse of her heart. 

“If you have doubts that are just sweet words, why don't you test it? 

“Mrs.  Lemay, how am I supposed to test him?” 

Mary glanced at the clock. The break was ending. She had to calm her heart and mind quickly. The singer thought that if she asked him something ridiculous, he would stop bothering her, ending the torment. “This is a terrible idea, but here I go…” 

Mary opened the door, almost slamming Vincent with it. “Oh… you are still there!” Mary blushed. “It is not polite to eavesdrop behind doors. Someone like you should know that.”  

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, Miss Howard… I…” Vincent got flustered. 

“I will accept your invitation with one condition: You will have to sing tonight. You will open the second part of my concert.” She smiled playfully.   

“One song, one date?” Vincent repeated, “Do you mean, right here and now?” 

“Yes, on this very stage.” 

“I…I’m afraid I don’t sing very well, Miss Howard.” 

“You said you would do anything… I thought gentlemen always kept their word.” Mary turned her back and closed the door. She heard footsteps moving away. Problem solved. Mrs.  Lemay left her alone to get ready.  

Her time was coming, so she walked towards the stage. As she got closer, Mary heard the notes of the piano resounding on her body. Peaking behind the curtain, she saw him bravely facing the shame. The fact that he has accepted the challenge baffled her.  

“Wise men say/ Only fools rush in/ But I can’t help falling in love with you/ Shall I stay? / Would it be a sin/ If I can’t help falling in love with you?” 

As he sang the first song verses, an intense shiver ran through her body, making her heart pounding fast. 

He wasn't a nightingale, but he wasn't terrible. Although she couldn't hear, she could guess from the looks and the whispers he was going to be the laughingstock of the night among his peers. 

For a moment, his voice lulled her to dreams of the love that the song promised. Could it really be true? 

When he finished, the musicians hurried him out, and Mrs.  Lemay hurried her entry. They just had time to catch a glimpse of each other.  

Mary resumed the concert as if nothing had happened. Minutes later, he reappeared, sitting at the tables in front of the stage. 

 In some songs, Mary invited the audience to dance. Vincent never left his seat, even though some women invited him directly. 

********* 

At the end of the concert, Mary assumed Vincent was waiting for her outside the dressing room but there was no sign of him. Could he just be playing around with her? Whatever the case was, she decided to take a walk around the hotel to see if she could find him. 

As she walked through the never-ending corridors, Mary crossed paths with Lydia Sinclaire. She was walking back and forth with her son in her arms. The boy was crying desperately, and his mother seemed about to start to do the same. 

 “Is everything all right, Mrs.  Sinclaire? Is the boy sick? Would you like me to call someone?” 

“No, Miss Howard, thank you. He woke up grumpy and is throwing a tantrum to go back to sleep.” Lydia sighed. “He's usually a calm baby. I don't know what's going on with him today.” 

“Maybe it's because he woke up in a strange place for him and not in his comfy crib.” 

“I know you must be tired, Miss Howard, but...Could you sing for him, please? I have been here for almost an hour. I have tried everything.... not even breastfeeding is calming him down.” She vented in despair. “I think he likes your voice because he fell asleep before the end of the first song.” 

Mary didn't have the courage to refuse a desperate mother. Bringing back her babysitting skills, Mary gently took the boy from her mother's arms. “Shhh, my, my, why are we so angry, little angel?” She stroked his curls. “What are you up to? ‘Beatles’? ‘Elton John’? ‘Oasis’? No. I think ‘Queen’ suits you better.” Mary smiled. “I was born to love you/With every single beat of my heart/Yes, I was born to take care of you/Every single day,” She sang, rocking him softly. The crying decreased with each verse until the little blue eyes began to close. Once the song was over, Mary hummed the melody until he returned to the world of dreams. 

Mrs.  Sinclaire was very grateful. “Thank you so much, Miss Howard. I will make sure your kindness will be rewarded.” 

Mary continued with her quest. Almost giving up, she called the elevator to go back to the dressing room. When the doors opened, she came face to face with Vincent. 

“Miss Howard!” He gasped. “Thank God you are here! I was afraid you were gone!” 

“I thought you would be…”  The two spoke at the same time, both trying to explain themselves. 

Vincent invited her to 'The Red Lion'. They walked there, all the way in silence, arriving almost at closing time. Fortunately, Vincent knew the managers and they let them stay after hours. 

After ordering something to eat and drink, Vincent tried to make conversation, but all his eloquence stammered before her. 

“Something tells me you don’t have much in the way of picking up a girl!” Mary laughed. 

Vincent turned red. “No, I don’t have. My friends tried to give me speed lessons tonight, but as you may notice at your door, they were useless.” 

“Good thing I like Jane Austen.” She smiled. “Which is your favourite?” 

“’Persuasion’. It's not a popular choice, but I like the idea that true love always finds a way.” 

“Good choice of words. You should try more often. With practice, you will certainly be able to persuade more women.” 

“I mean it when I say I would very much like to know you better. I don’t want to just ‘pick up you’, Miss Howard. You or any other woman. I collect pens, not lovers.” Vincent fidgeted nervously with his glass. 

“Does that mean you see me as a potential lover?” She teased him.  

“Miss Howard, that wasn’t…I...” He almost dropped the glass. 

“Or I am not handsome enough to tempt you?” 

“No, it's quite the opposite...You are rather alluring... I'm sorry, maybe that wasn't the best choice of words this time.” 

“You can call me Mary and it’s okay, I was only teasing you.” She took his glass and put it on the table. “If it’s not a lover, what are you looking for, Viscount Vincent?” 

“I have never wanted a lover...I have always wished for someone who I can share all my secrets with.” 

“Don’t you have a best friend for that?” 

“I do, but...Miss Howard...Mary... My soul has been dormant, and you awakened it with the first note you sang. I have felt nothing like this.” 

“How can you say that? It hasn't even been a couple of hours yet since you met me!”  

“Singing the way you sing, with that passion and depth... I can feel that you are certainly the sharpest and most ardent woman I will ever meet.” 

From those first sentences on, the conversation between them never stopped, extending from the pub for the rest of the night at The Green Park. The young viscount's embarrassment faded into conversation, allowing Mary to glimpse an intelligent and sensitive man. Although his noble bearing never wavered, Mary found no trace of vanity or pride in him. 

Despite the obvious gulf between their lives and some of their ideas, he never, even for a moment, seemed upset or irritated by what she was saying, listening to her with respect and attention. 

He obviously put on his coat on her back before she even felt cold. Even in that moment of closeness, Vincent didn't try to touch her, he didn't even look at her cleavage, despite the dress exposing that area. 

Mary was truly enjoying her time with him. Maybe enjoying too much, as the voice in her head was warning. She had a plan for her life and was determined to stick to it. And her plan didn't include falling in love. 

However, the more they talked, the more she wanted to know about him, to be closer to him. 

Mary didn’t remember falling asleep, but somehow, she woke up with her head resting on his chest, snuggled on his body. They were surprisingly warm under his coat at that hour. She inhaled the soft scent of his shirt. The last few hours had been a beautiful dream, but it was time to come back to reality. 

He insisted on driving her home. Mary accepted it. She would sing at a wedding mass in a couple of hours and couldn't be late (and being with him a little longer was a bonus). 

Vincent got out of the car and helped her out. ‘God, why you have to be so nice?’, Mary thought to herself.

“Thank you for this lovely night, Mary.” He kissed her hand. “May I hope to see you again?”

Her head said no, but her heart went ahead. “That depends.” Mary flashed him an enigmatic smile.

“Of what?” Vincent had an adorable, confused look on his face.

“If you kiss me. I have been waiting for it all night.” Mary had wanted to kiss him since he left the stage. Vincent cupped her face. She felt his hands shaking.  “And promise me that we won’t fall asleep on the grass again. Even the peasants back don’t survive a night on the ground.” His arms gently circled her body. Mary’s hands instinctively grasped his shirt. “I am not a crystal glass, Vincent. I will not break.”

Vincent bent down, his lips against her cheek, brushing it lightly.  “I am afraid if I kiss you, you will vanish in the air.

“I am not Cinderella, and we are a long way from midnight, my lord.” Mary smiled sweetly, reaching up and pulling him closer to her.

Once, she had read in a book that after a first kiss, there is no going back. It changes both people. At that time, she thought it was exaggerated. It only took a few seconds to change her mind. Kissing Vincent was as natural as breathing. It wasn’t just the touch of two lips. It was the meeting of two souls. And they talked, through the lips, the heart beatings, the soft sighs… Mary tried to deepen the kiss. Reluctantly, Vincent pulled away, whispering against her lips. “If I don’t stop now, I will never be able to let you go from my arms.”

“Is that a promise, Viscount?” She grinned at him, dizzy with the intensity of what his lips had told her.

Vincent peaked her lips. “So, I suppose that this opens the door to a second date?”

“What are you doing to me, Vincent Foredale?” Mary thought aloud as she caressed his face.

From that day on, there were not many days when they were apart, both arranging their lives to spend as much time as possible together. For almost two years, Mary felt like she was living in heaven on earth.

It didn't matter if it was a romantic weekend away, a Sunday lazing around on the sofa, an afternoon playing cards, making him coffee in the early hours of the morning while he wrote down new ideas for his novel or a morning trying to teach Vincent how to cook... all these moments were precious and only made her fall in love even more.

Besides Vincent’s heart, Mary had caught someone else's eye on that night at 'The Trafalgar St. James'. A music producer contacted her sometime later, offering their services to book her some concerts at small festivals and opening the concerts of some renowned singers. He also asked her to write some original songs to record. If they liked it, there could be good news soon.

As the months passed and their feelings deepened, Mary found herself wondering when Vincent would introduce her to his family. When she asked about it, he avoided the topic. He justified the delay with the need to prepare both sides.

Like most noble families, his parents would certainly still have many of the old prejudices. The encounter between their worlds would be a shock for them and herself. Mary had agreed that the moment would require preparation and patience.

Besides, it was also in the interest of Mary's career to keep a low profile for a while. A malicious article in a tabloid would be a damage difficult to repair.

Although Mary understood his reasons, she noticed there was something wrong with her boyfriend. Over the last couple of months, Vincent looked tired and worried all the time. He was spending less time with her and, sometimes, when they were together, she could say his body was there, but his mind was away.

In those moments, she felt the shadows of doubt take over her heart 'Would Vincent be ashamed of her?' 'Did he truly intend to take her to his parents?' 'Was she just a rich boy's entertainment?

On the holidays in 1993, Vincent whisked her away for a surprise travel. At first, she was a little disappointed upon arriving in Scotland. She hoped his surprise would be Christmas at Edgewater, not a cottage in de the middle of the fields.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Vincent asked her to dress warmly, let him blindfold her, and follow him. Although Mary found it a strange request, she followed Vincent. After walking for some time, they were climbing a small hill. When they reached the top, Vincent removed her blindfold.

Opening her eyes, Mary was lost for speech, enraptured by the northern lights above them. On the night they met, among the many things they said, Mary had commented that she would love to see the northern lights one day. Mary didn't know what made her happier: if she finally saw the lights, or if Vincent remembered that little detail.

“They are so beautiful…so magical! Don’t you think, Vincent? Aren’t they the most wonderful thing?” Mary beamed at the sky.

“No, they aren’t.”

Mary turned to him, staggered by his response. Then she saw him kneeling before her. He gently took her hand and kissed it. “You, my dearest Mary, you amaze me every day with your heart, the wits of your mind. When I met you, my soul was almost extinguished, but you became the light of my life. People say that I was born with the best life has to offer, but in reality, it is with you that I discovered the best life there is. Neither lands, nor treasures, nor titles have done in years what you have done in these months... You make me a better man with your love. My Mary, would you be so kind to accept me as your husband?”

The intensity of what Mary felt at that moment raptured her. She was shaking, laughing, and tearing up all at the same time.

“My dearest Mary, please say something…even it’s not what I wish to hear…” Vincent was getting worried.

“What your family will think? I am just a…” Mary stammered.

“You are the most important person in my life. I will find a way for us; whether like it or not.” Vincent hugged her tenderly.

“No, Vincent. We will find a way.”

“That means…”

“Yes, my love. My heart has no choice but to love you forever and furthermore.” Mary caressed his face.

Vincent twirled her in the air, deliriously happy. They kissed wildly, reasserting through their lips all the affection, admiration, devotion and passion for each other.

In the intensity of the moment, the ring box slipped from Vincent’s hands. Fortunately, it fell at Mary's feet. Vincent took it out of the box and gently placed it on her finger. It was made of gold, with three flowers. The central flower was made of small pearls and adorned with a discreet diamond.

“It’s stunning, Vincent.” Mary beamed.

“I designed it myself. I know it's simple... I tried to make it look like a peony...at least it's white...You deserved a bigger diamond... I can’t afford it now, but I will spend my life making up for it.”

“I don’t care about what it’s made of. It means hope, a promise of a future with you. Nothing else matters to me. Our love is the is the greatest treasure of all.” Mary kissed his hand devotedly.

*****

The following weeks were crazy for Mary, between services for Mrs.  Lemay and some scheduled concerts. Vincent had something prepared for Valentine's Day, but it was impossible to be with him. Her concert ended too late for his plans.

To make up for him, Mary convinced Mrs.  Lemay to give her a weekend off to “rest her voice”. They didn't do anything special. They barely left their castle (aka Mary's flat). Not like they needed anything else anyway. Their hearts always had a lot to tell each other.

It was a mild February Sunday morning. Some rays of sunlight coming through the window woke her up. Vincent was still sleeping soundly. The morning light illuminated her hand resting on his chest. Every time she looked at her engagement ring on the hand her heart skip a beat with so much happiness. Mary had never spent much time fantasizing about wedding plans, but after singing at so many, she had some ideas.

She planted a kiss on her lovers’ chest. Maybe they could discuss it over breakfast. It was time to go get bread.

Mary rarely had any problems getting up in the morning, but for a few days now, she's been struggling to get out of bed. Mary was exhausted, but she couldn't stop now that there was light at the end of the tunnel for her music. Rolling her body off the bed, Mary felt her head heavy, and for an instant, the small room was spinning around her.

After coffee, Mary was sure she would feel better. Nothing was more wrong. The coffee tasted horrible that morning.

As usual, there was a queue outside the bakery. With no coffee to sip, Mary bought 'The Sunday Times' to entertain herself. She was so distracted reading some trivial news that she almost dropped the newspaper when a lady asked her if she could see the headline.

Mary opened the newspaper wider so the woman could see better. The woman seemed shocked by the headline.

Intrigued by the woman’s reaction, Mary turned it to her. There was something controversial about Princess Diana, but that was hardly new lately. Then, her eyes reached the bottom strip of the headline.

‘Viscount Foredale and Mrs.  Marlcaster announce their engagement! - Read everything about the wedding of the year on page 20.’

She couldn’t believe what her eyes were reading. That couldn't be true. Mary ran out of air as a sharp pain coursed through her body, making her throw up.

When she could breathe again, Mary flew back home. Fury, disappointment, anguish, fear... hope. She was feeling everything at once. Although it was difficult to think through the hurricane of emotions, something inside her was screaming it was true.

Her mind wanted to get home as quickly as possible to find out, but her heart was terrified.

Vincent was still in bed. Mary couldn't say anything right away, frozen by dazedness. She was clutching the newspaper on her hand, trying to come back from the shock.

“What happened, Mary?” Vincent asked, feeling that something was wrong.

His question made her blood boil. Mary threw the newspaper at him, hitting her fiancé hard in the face. “Congratulations on your engagement, Viscount Foredale! Wishing you a lifetime of joy, love, and happiness. Now get out of my house immediately!”

Vincent picked up the newspaper and read the headline. “Mary, I know what this sounds like, but believe me, I have an explanation. I should have talked to you earlier…” He stuttered, losing his colours.

“I don’t want an explanation! Look me in the eye and tell me it’s a lie!” Mary cried.

The moment Vincent looked her in the eye and admitted it was true, her heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. Mary loved him more than life, but she refused to be the other woman. She had given him her soul and body and would accept nothing less from him than the same commitment. It would be better to live without him than to live in the shadows.

To show him she was kicking him out of her house and her life, Mary tried to take the ring off her finger. Vincent knew her so well that the ring was just the right size, making the task more difficult.

“I mean what that ring symbolizes. You are my true betrothed.” He tried again.

Hurting her finger, Mary snatched the ring and threw it at him. Her hand was bleeding, but what were a few scratches on a finger compared with the abyss that he had opened in her heart?

Vincent took the ring from the floor. “Mary, my love, please, don’t do this.”

“Don’t dare to call me that ever again! Get out of my house! Now!”

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[ac3may]

“ the wag diaries ”

The Origin Story

~ Sam Kerr ~

~~~~~~~~~~

• just graduated, you were a pretty average uni student

• except not entirely

• you were a couple of years older than most of your class

• America, Fiji, Asia you had become a full granola-girl, travel fiend for a couple of years

• hiking and surfing through the days, partying with your hostel friends through the night

• you were the textbook “trying to discover myself” gap-year kid

• yes, you even came home with a pair of those classic baggy trousers plastered with elephants

•although things went a little better for you considering the internet fame your YouTube doc got you (but we’ll get back to that)

• with two younger siblings (twins) you were blunt, and impatient

• but ultimately cared far more about others than you did yourself

• they were your best friends

• elys was renowned for his practical jokes and getting in trouble that only you could get him out of

• enya was the perfect, youngest child, spoilt in just the right way

• always encouraging you to let her practice her makeup skills or plant pretty flowers in the garden

• especially when your mum died, they were the only ones able to get you out of bed

• or failing that at least encourage a smile to your face

• specially considering the lacklustre relationship you had with your dad… who wasn’t really your dad

• your bio-father split before you were born so at 8 you were introduced to your new stepdad

• he was your sibling's father though so you always felt out of the loop, especially once your mum was gone

• growing up in a football family you were their biggest fan when they progressed from grassroots to academy and academy to first team

• attending every game clad in blue with a painted face, number 1 soccer mom to the max

• you would do anything for them

• the biggest people pleaser

• even if it meant catching a flight to a homophobic country to watch your brother's world cup debut

• just a wounded soul who’s afraid to disappoint

• absolutely underestimate your worth

• just trying to blend into the background

• despite being a secret slut for attention and craving someone to care for you for once

• you’d portray the perfect child to your family so they assume you’re a rebel kid really

• but you felt pretty average growing up

• you were adored in your hometown, always helping the elderly with their grocery shopping and the kids with their homework

• a babysitter and a tutor

• a football coach too

• you played as a kid, much like your siblings

• but the teenage depression when your mum died meant you lost all character and quit all hobbies

• at least for a couple of years

• alonely kid in high school, didn’t drink before you were of age, never went to a school party, or hung out smoking in a field

• always followed the rules at school, middle-of-the-road type of student, not memorable for being too good or too bad

• you were a classic 90’s kid except you refused to let the era go

• as a kid, your mum’s camcorder was on you always

• you loved filming everything and always forced your siblings into being the stars

• which was especially easy when it was their football skills you were showing off

• when you got older you filmed your travels, mainly to send back home but actually gained some traction online

• and then during covid when you and the twins resorted to your roots

• it turns out a YouTube series about two of Chelsea and England’s up-and-coming stars actually does pretty well

• despite being a film student graduate you had no intentions of following your peers to Hollywood or the BBC

• it was your sister who secured you a job with Chelsea

• a big surprise at Christmas when Elys unveiled a new camera and Enya followed up with a contract to start in the summer

• somehow you had never met any of the other Chelsea players, always rushing off to travel home after watching the game in the stands

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s definitely my most worked on wag diaries so far, already got 2 more blurbs lined up about her😂😅

[elissanatok]

﹒•˒⟿⭒「𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 ❞」ʿʿ ⟿☼

↳✉⭒˞˔˙ː❛ -ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?✹⋮

◌༄۵ !𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗎 !

!𝚂.𝚁. //𝙱.𝙱.// 𝙿.𝙼. //𝙿.𝙿. !

𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗁𝗈, 𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈, 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍??? 𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅 – 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 – 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅 – 𝗅𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾.

When I was a little girl, the world seemed brighter. The sun seemed to be a little lighter and more blinding. I remember my mother holding my hand tightly while she dragged me up the streets of San Francisco, because my father didn't bother picking us up at the shop after we went grocery shopping in July. I was sweating, something I still hate, and I realized that I wanted my father to be nicer to my mom. To be nicer in general. But I never witnessed that. Even after my brother was born, the only thing he would do was sit in his office and stare at his computer. He made call after call. It took my mother a while to find out that he was cheating on her, but it didn't even catch her of guard.

Three months later we were living at my grandmothers house, much to my mothers displeasure. She had a nice garden tho. After they got into a fight we left again in the middle of the night, just to go back to my father. I hated it.

My parents were never soulmates. They weren't meant to be and even if they tried to be, it always ended in tears and us moving.

I remember when I hugged him for the last time. The smell of coffee clung to him like I always thought only cigarettes could. I loved his coffee scent. Even if its fucked up, it always reminded me of home, a save place. But when he finally left, leaving us in the three bedroom flat, I knew it was the last time I would see his face.

Twelve years later my father sent me a postcard from Italy, saying he found his soulmate in his hometown. I didn't tell my mother and I didn't answer him. My mother was the one who deserved to have a love like this, someone to love her always, not him.

Twelve years later my father was probably still a dick.

Now, sitting at the new oak kitchen table my mother invested in, I couldn't imagine him here with us in New York. I couldn't even realize the fact, that we moved or that I still had to unpack. My eyes drifted to the boxes all around the room. We were just to unmotivated to unpack.

My mother went out to take a look at her new restaurant and my brother Charlie didn't bother looking up from his physics book, reminding me of the fact that if I wanted to graduate this year, I had to find a tutor. Of course, I could always ask my brother, but the little ego I had left couldn't die for my grades.

I yawned as I looked out of the window. It was raining and if it kept raining I would have to rethink the outfit I planned to wear to school tomorrow. If  I would even be able to find anything in those boxes. Stretching, I took the last sip of the hot choco I had left and clapped my hands, trying to motivate myself an maybe my brother. But neither worked.

ʿʿ ⟿☼

One hour later, y/n and Charlie were still doing nothing. Well- y/n was sketching her brother, who was studying and nipping on his drink every Minute, but to Caroline St. Lorenz they weren't really doing anything helpful – like unpacking.

"What are you doing?", she asked the moment she let the shopping bags fall onto the leather couch. "Learning.", Charlie answered without looking up, while his sister painted a gentle smile on her lips. "What did you buy?", she asked as she stood up and walked towards her. Of course she went shopping for decoration even though they didn't even unpack. "You know... stuff.", Caroline mumbled after releasing an exhausted breath. "Cool"

"You didn't even start. Why does it always have to be me who's supposed to do the shitty stuff?", she whined and let herself plop next to her bags on the couch. "Because we're helpless without you.", y/n whined in the same tone and looked around the flat.

It was big, definitely bigger than their last, but Caroline's cooking has gotten pretty known in the last years. Her restaurants had many locations and her name was well known. The lamp above Charlies head looked expensive, but not as expensive as the vase on the dresser. "Can't you just- ya know – call someone to do the job?", Charlie asked, looking slightly up from his book. y/n cracked in the matter of a second and fell into a loud laugh when her mom looked over the back of the couch and asked if she looked like a fucking mafiosi.

"Maybe.", her brother whispered, poking his tongue out at his sister the moment their mother looked away.

y/n sighed. 12 boxes for the kitchen and the living room, 10 for her mothers room and each 8 for the siblings room. She really didn't want to. And by the looks of it, nobody else wanted to unpack either. "Sooo- we aren't gonna do anything about the chaos?", she asked. Her mother opened her eyes. "Not if you're not gonna make the start."

Sighting again, she stretched, ready to do something, but deciding to start in her room. She had to set some priorities.

[strawberryspence]

happy birthday @henderdads! this one's for you my beautiful friend! i am extremely glad you were born! 🍰🥂🥳

-

Truthfully, Steve didn't think he'd live past nineteen. He remembers not wanting to get past twenty.

After everything. After having fought and surviving five silent wars, after studying and graduating, after teaching for years, after being a father, a son, a brother and a friend.

After everything. After Steve lived his life the best he could, he settles down.

He settles down in a field, just outside the outskirts of his childhood hometown. It's a small cottage, a few miles away from Hopper's old cabin. It's usually empty now, but it's there when the gremlins want a vacation. When they just want to unplug and find peace.

Somewhere, a few miles down from Steve's, is a tiny hidden house. Its hidden by shades of trees and vines of flowers. Behind it, is Robin and Nancy's cottage. At first, Nancy wasn't really sure about the idea of living in the middle of the forest. But no one— not even her wife— could stop Robin from following Steve to the ends of this world. Now, they live there most of the year, and half they spend in the city.

There's a soft breeze on his face as Steve slowly braids a flower into a crown with shaky hands. It's from the old age, he thinks. But if Robin was here, she would say it's from all the fights. It's muscle memory, as he weaves through the crown. He must've made hundreds of them when Aurora and Arwen was growing up.

Steve's two little princesses. Not that they're little anymore. His little girls are now women. Running about around the country, doing their own things, leaving their marks in this world.

When he finally locks the last end of the stem from the other part, he sighs with relief. The weather is nice. The sun directly hitting him on his face, the wind cascading and making the trees shake. The sound of it so relaxing, his eyes flutter shut. Steve lays his back on the picnic blanket, he knows he'll regret it later, but what the hell?

He thinks about the life he has lived and the life he is still living. Seventeen year old Steve Harrington didn't even think he would reach this age, didn't think he'd ever be this happy. But here he is. Comfortable in his wrinkly skin, happy.

There's leaves crunching as he hears the soft footsteps of someone walking to him.

"Sweetheart."

Steve peeps an eye open, and at first he doesn't see anything but the bright beam of the sun. But the figure moves, blocking the sun and everything in Steve's whole axis stops.

The figure smiles down at him. There's a few more wrinkles on his face when he smiles. The scar on his left cheek is barely even there anymore. His hair tucked into a small bun and when the wind blows, there's tiny wisps of hair that moves along. He's beautiful. He's always been beautiful. It's been more than forty years, and Eddie Munson still leaves him breathless.

There's rustling as Eddie kneels and sits beside him on the picnic blanket, "Sweetheart, I told you not to lay on the ground. Your back is going to hurt tonight. I swear to God if you say a damn word about it."

Steve snickers, holding out a hand so he can get some help to sit up. Eddie glares at him but takes it, helping him to sit up and sag against the trunk of the tree shading them.

"It's my birthday, Eds. I deserve the birthday massage."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, "The birthday massage I gave you this morning wasn't enough?"

Steve feels himself blush, nudging his elbow on Eddie, "Shut up."

Eddie laughs. Open, loud and free. Steve will never get tired of hearing it. He moves closer to kiss Steve's cheek, "I can't believe you still blush over the shit I say. We basically have nine nuggets together, that's more than you wanted."

Steve groans, "Will you ever let the Winnebago thing go?"

Eddie smirks at him, bopping his nose with his finger, "Never."

Steve rolls his eyes, but moves closer to deposit the flower crown he made on Eddie's head. The colorful flowers brighten up his whole face, making him look like an actual prince.

"My prince." Steve whispers as he kisses Eddie. It's a chaste kiss. Soft, wonderful, familiar; his husband's lips.

Steve has lived a life with his husband. It's not really Steve who wanted to settle down and retire in the cottage in the first place. It was Eddie.

When he finally got tired of the glitz and glam of Hollywood. Eddie wanted to run away, to somewhere quiet, to some place they could call their home. Steve found this little cottage for the two of them, because he wants to give Eddie everything. But most of all he wants to give him peace. He still writes a few songs. Because he's the most passionate about that. He usually sells it to some newer, younger singer.

"You want to blow your cake?" Eddie asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. Steve didn't even notice that Eddie was holding a small box.

"You know Dustin will be mad if he finds out, right?" Steve asks, as Eddie pulls out the cake from the box. He helps him though, as Eddie sticks a few candles on the homemade cake.

"Eh. What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Eddie winks at him from behind his glasses. He flickers the lighter open and lights the candles.

The wind gives them mercy for a tiny while. The candle fire sway with the wind but doesn't die.

"Come on, big boy. Make a wish."

Steve watches as Eddie holds up the cake in front of him. There's a message on it, written in messy cursive writing. It says, "Happy 60th Birthday, Steve!"

Steve has spent so many birthdays, waking up to this exact image. Eddie holding up a birthday cake and asking him to make a wish. And though, Eddie's older now, with a few more wrinkles and some white hairs, his eyes will always still be that same shade of brown, the same one Steve stared at and fell in love with as Eddie held a broken bottle against his neck. Steve swears he will never get tired of it.

Steve smiles and blows on his candles.

"What did you wish for, Stevie?" Eddie smiles at him, tender and fond and filled with love.

"If I say it, it won't come true." Steve answers, making Eddie roll his eyes.

"Fine."

From inside the cottage, they hear a familiar voice shouting, "Dad! Papa! I am here! I picked up Auntie Rob on the way over. Cause you know, she's always late."

Even from far away, they can hear the gasp of surprise Robin lets out. "Aurora Eunice Munson-Harrington! You really are your fathers daughter!"

There is a cacophony of laughter and giggling. It sounds just like home.

Eddie turns at him, standing up slowly as he offers his hand to Steve.

"Let's go?"

Steve takes it happily, "Let's go."

As he walks towards his home, he sighs in content.

Steve didn't wish for anything else, not when he has everything he has ever wanted. Instead, he whispers a soft gratitude to whatever Deity decided that he deserves this life.

Steve's just glad he decided to live past nineteen to see— to have— this life made just for him.

[outlawssweetheart]

Spare the Erron Black headcanons. 🫴

THANK YOU! 🤗

Warning, this is dark from the get-go because Erron's family are scum and he is not a happy man. (TW for: Mentions of child abuse, implied CSA, alcoholism, and suicidal ideology.)

My headcanons are thought of with MK11 retconned Erron in mind; however, it isn't really relevant outside of his hometown (which didn't exist until the 1920s). So really, you can think of this with either backstory you'd like.

His birth name is not Erron Black; he changed his name when he grew up and left Wickett. He wanted to reinvent himself.

Erron's father left either when he was a baby or before he was born. (Though, really, I'm kind of stumped because he said he didn't know his father, then found and killed him, and implied that his father is/was worse than Rain's father. Like... how? For leaving him with his mother? Or maybe it was just Erron's narcissism causing him to feel like his problem is always worse than anyone else's?? Idk, and I doubt the MK11 writers do either! 🙃)

Erron has an older sister, his only good family member. She's 3-5 years older than him.

The rest of his family were awful. His mom was physically and verbally abusive, the other adults were pretty much the same, and his cousins picked on him for being the "scrawny" one.

His uncle (mom's brother) was the worst kind of abusive. "Funny ain't the word for it" with the utmost disdain in his voice, my mind naturally goes to the worst scenario. Some redneck stabbed and killed the guy in a bar fight when Erron was a teenager, and he has been bitter since then that he was robbed of getting to kill his uncle himself.

His sister feels guilt for not protecting him from their mother or uncle, even though they were both just children. She didn't even know the SA was happening until he told her when they were older. (This is more of a headcanon for her, but it's in my mind, so I must mention it.)

He left home and changed his name in his late teens.

Erron is a bit of an alcoholic. No surprise, considering his life.

Subconsciously, Erron wants to die, but he thinks he wants to live. That's why he's so reckless, other than his thrill-seeking.

Erron has a weird relationship with morality. Part of him has very loose morals, part of him is an actual sadist, and part of him has a strange sense of moral superiority. (He freed Cassie and Jacqui from the BD for reasons unknown, he says Sindel seems "a little too proud" when bragging that she murdered Jerrod.)

He hates caring about others. And if he begins to care, he pushes them away. Examples are: Cheating on Nitara with Skaret, and dumping Skarlet "because he got bored." (Only partly true, as Erron does get bored easily.)

He's a smoker, but he's not addicted to them.

Okay, that's all I got that aren't Skarron headcanons. (I think.) I hope you enjoy this, and apologize for the long wait! 🫶🏽

Send me a character

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby- Chapter Three- Thomas

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Even after four years of being a part-time family teacher, I was still Shelby's only habit of reading newspapers. Four years ago, I started using newspapers to teach the children to read, just like my father once did.

But unfortunately, not to boast, these children don't have the political talent I had back then.

'Harry, don't grab your sister's hair,' the child named Harry, who was called out, reluctantly put down his restless hands and took the knife and fork I handed him.

At the breakfast table, the children were eating quietly, and I continued to browse the newspaper. Every day, I paid attention to the constantly updated list of casualties in the newspaper. 'Shelby' had never appeared in that section. But I also knew that on the battlefield, there would be many nameless bodies.

To the common people, this war was nothing more than a brief outing, an exciting adventure. Those young people were afraid of missing the opportunity for a splendid death in their lifetime, so they eagerly rushed to enlist, cheering and singing on the train. They were all hot-headed, forgetting the mundane world.

My brother, on the other hand, was quite clear-headed. This was something he said, rare for his alcohol-soaked brain, and he said it when my father wanted to send him to the army for training before he passed away.

Good people don't live long, and harm lasts for thousands of years. This saying is truly not wrong.

Maria is Martha's eldest daughter, and she resembles her mother, a gentle and obedient girl. If she were born into a wealthy family in London, she would definitely be the most sought-after presence in the marriage market.

'I miss Dad so much, Aunt Demi,' I looked at the girl next to me who was helping me wash the dishes. She was so young and beautiful, and she looked so fragile. She had already endured enough hardship, and you couldn't bear to tell her the painful reality. After all, at this age, I still believed in Santa Claus.

'They will come back, dear. Just like an adventure that has ended, Dad and uncles will come back with medals to embrace our little Maria.'

Martha's health had deteriorated after giving birth to her fourth child in 1915, becoming thin, weak, and sickly, as if a gust of wind could blow her away. During the war, resources were scarce, and medicines were even more precious. Her illness could only be postponed. Polly needed to support the family, and Finn always played with his nephews and nieces, while Ada personally managed them. The responsibility of taking care of the children fell on me and little Maria. In her, I saw a shadow of my past, a girl accustomed to taking care of others, so among Martha's four children, I cherished her the most and always liked to keep her by my side. If circumstances allowed, I really wanted to teach her to dance, ride horses, hunt, play the piano, and teach her everything I knew.

The days that followed were as gray and dull as the Birmingham sky, with one ordinary day after another. But the soldiers gradually returned to their hometown, and this deserted city was slowly recovering. The quiet streets were filled with pedestrians, and the bars gradually became lively.

Many people would wait at the train station for their loved ones. They hugged each other on the platform, tears of joy in their eyes. Those who didn't meet their loved ones would look at the reunited people with envy, exchange a few words of good luck, and then eagerly wait for the next train to arrive. If they didn't get the news today, they would continue waiting tomorrow. For now, no news was the best news.

I often finished my work:

Platform waiting for her father and uncles. There was an old white-haired woman who started waiting before the sun even rose, and she waited until sunset. She just stood on the platform waiting, like an unyielding rock.

'I see Dad!' Maria jumped for joy and pulled me towards her long-lost loved ones.

John Shelby was a man with blue eyes, fairer skin than his brothers, and he looked like a bright and lively man. When he saw Maria, he put down his luggage and embraced his daughter.

Arthur was the eldest, easy to recognize with a thick beard that made him look like a teddy bear. I nodded to him cautiously, as a form of greeting.

But when I looked at the man in the middle of them, I couldn't take my eyes off him.

He had a pair of gem-like clear blue eyes, strong cheekbones, a straight and high nose, and lips that weren't the typical thin British type, adding a touch of sensuality. He looked like a melancholic young prince full of starlight.

I knew he was Thomas Shelby, the Shelby who had terrified Small Heath. But he didn't quite match the rumors...

11:42

The men of the Shelby family had finally returned safely.

We had prepared a sumptuous meal and were busy in the kitchen.

'Demi, go call the children back. I'll keep an eye on things in the kitchen.' Seeing his nephews return safely, Polly, who had been tense all this time, finally showed a long-lost smile. 'The kids, and those big kids.'

I replied and hummed a tune as I walked out of the house.

It's good, things are moving in the right direction. Although we can't predict the future, coming back safely from the battlefield is always a good sign.

"Harry!"

I called out to the children, waving my hand. "Come inside, boys, it's time for dinner!"

John and Arthur brought the children into the house. I stood in the yard, watching the smiles on their faces, genuinely happy for them.

Once they were all inside, I realized that one person was missing. Where was Thomas?

11:42

"John, where's Thomas?" I stopped John, who was walking at the back, and he looked friendlier than his brother.

"Tommy?" John turned around almost subconsciously, as if his brother was right behind him. "He's probably in the shower."

In fact, I ran into Thomas on my way to the store to buy chocolate.

I saw the light in my office, but I distinctly remembered locking the door, and the ledgers on the table were not something to be made public.

I cautiously opened the door and saw Thomas standing at my desk, not sure what he was doing.

Afraid of startling him, I knocked on the door.

He just raised his eyes to look at me.

"Tonight, Polly prepared a big meal with meat and wine, but there's only chocolate here, which the girls like." I leaned against the door, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere with a joke. "Are you looking for someone to fulfill your needs, sir? What?"

11:42

I thought I had misheard. For years, no one had looked at me like that. Besides, could there really be such a beautiful prostitute in Birmingham? Or why would a beautiful prostitute with a Chelsea accent come to Birmingham?

"Are you a prostitute?" He actually repeated, thinking I hadn't heard him the first time.

"Of course

not. If you're looking for someone to satisfy your needs, I'd suggest you find a professional." My face must have looked awful, "If you're just here to amuse yourself with me, then please forgive me for not indulging you."

"I'm sorry." I heard him apologize softly as I turned away. Hearing his deep, hoarse voice, I felt a little soft-hearted and turned back.

"Going back? I need a knight to escort me back to my castle."

He smiled, like a rare clear sky in London in the spring, soft and beautiful. Although this man was a bit strange, he was undeniably good-looking. I thought to myself.

"My pleasure, Your Highness." The dinner ended smoothly. Our stomachs were filled with soft white bread, roasted potatoes, roast beef, and rum. The adults lay on the couch, continuing to drink whiskey and chat. I glanced at the clock; it was almost eleven. I yawned and hurried the children upstairs to bed.

Even though I hadn't been drinking, this group of children was as excited as if they had been given a shot of adrenaline, causing a commotion in the bedroom. They wanted me to tell them stories, one after another, and as soon as there was a slight pause, they would start misbehaving. Even though I was exhausted and my head was spinning, I kept telling stories until dawn, finally coaxing those little devils to sleep. I was so tired from telling stories that my throat was dry and my tongue was parched, so I went downstairs to get a glass of water. There was no one in the living room anymore; it seemed that everyone had gone to sleep.

I passed by Thomas's room and saw that his door wasn't closed like the others, and the light was still on. Maybe he was just too tired

I yawned and, with tired steps, headed towards his room to turn off the light and close the door.

I was so tired, and from now on, whoever had children would take care of them. It was as if a group of little demons!

Thomas was lying on his narrow bed, his eyes tightly closed, his brows furrowed, and sweat on his face, looking very distressed. I gently nudged him, "Thomas? Tommy?"

11:43

He suddenly opened his eyes, and the fierceness in his eyes frightened me. He quickly pulled out a pistol from under his pillow and pointed it at me.

I fell back to the floor in fear. The coldness of the floor, the pain in my butt, and the fear and helplessness of being pointed at by a gun all overwhelmed my brain.

What kind of person is this? First, he mistook me for a prostitute, and now he's pointing a gun at me. I haven't even slept yet, and he's pointing a gun at me...

I felt extremely wronged, and tears fell to the ground with a plop.

He put down the gun and picked me up from the floor, hugging me and patting my back gently as if comforting a child.

I deliberately wiped my nose and tears on his pajamas.

"What are you still doing up?" I tried to speak with irritation and amusement as I attempted to pull my hand away.

"Have you had nightmares?" I heard him speak as I was dozing off.

"I always hear the sound of digging in the walls." "What shovel?"

"We were sent on a mission, underground, and the German soldiers were digging tunnels. I prayed, prayed that they would dig slowly, even slower, or that the day would come faster..."

To be honest, I was shocked listening to him.

Nobles don't become soldiers, and soldiers are all commoners, but my father had great respect for those soldiers who died in battle. But no one ever told me these things, told me that those soldiers were also human, capable of fear. Lying in a foreign land, either in eternal sleep or living with nightmares.

I gently patted his shoulder. "Wait for me to come back." Then I quietly slipped downstairs to make a cup of hot milk and brought it back upstairs.

I handed the milk to him.

Thomas looked at me somewhat surprisingly. "What's wrong? I've just put your nieces and nephews to sleep, sir." I replied, half annoyed. "If you need someone to sing you to sleep or tell you stories, do you want that too? And I'm not a nanny."

But he still didn't let go of my hand. "I want to hear your story."

My story? It's long and grim, it will break your heart." I continued trying to pull my hand away.

"It's already broken."

Looking into his sincere blue eyes, I sighed in resignation. Those eyes seemed to have some kind of magic, making me lose the ability to refuse, so I recalled the first 15 years of my life that I had buried deep in my heart.

"Can you help me?"

In my drowsiness, I heard him speak.

"Familiar with what?" I tried to open my eyelids to look at him.

All these messed-up things, messed-up life, business... I found you, and you found me... We help each other." He held me a bit tighter, but I was too tired, and his warmth made me even more sleepy.

Oh, what's the matter, we can talk about it tomorrow... Tomorrow is a new day...

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

WIP Intro : La gloire des femmes en deuil

Title : La gloire des femmes en deuil

Genre : urban fantasy

Status : first draft

Target wordcount : 50k+ (I don’t actually know how long this thing is going to be, but knowing myself, it’s going to be longer than that)

Actual wordcount : 0

TW : blood, violence, misogyny

Synopsis :

Eve Mastema Dupuis lives a quiet life in the town of Diciennes: she runs her magic store “Herbes et Miroirs” and sees her brother twice a week, and her grandmothers and the rest of her siblings once a month. She doesn't need much more, really. And who cares if she's the eldest Dupuis and still doesn't have her own garnet mine or celestial orchard? Who cares if the parental circle regularly forgets her existence? She's long since made her peace with it. And she's far too busy trying to get a mysterious woman out of a mirror and finding a solution to her failing magic to care what the Cercle Dupuis Major thinks of her. Maxime, unfortunately, doesn't share her feelings. He doesn't fit in Diciennes or its Academy the way he does in their hometown, not the way he'd like, and having given up their name, even for a few years, for his education makes him resentful. He is a Dupuis. Worse, he is the first Dupuis son, and he is used to everything falling into his lap. So when his parents promise him his mine and orchard if he comes home, he begs his sister to go with him. Eve has promised herself she'll never return to Meluya for more than a weekend, convinced that she could never escape and would end up dying in their hometown if she gave up the life she'd fought for. But Eve has loyalty in her blood. If her siblings call, she'll answer. She just hopes she can change their minds before she has to make a decision as drastic as returning to Meluya…

Settings : a magical shop (or two) ; a cottage at the edge of the woods ; a cold house ; a small town ; a gothic manor

Characters:

Eve Mastema Dupuis || [30] || lesbian || witch || suffers from crippling loneliness ; loyal ; fucked up magic ; knowledge is power (but you know nothing, Jon Snow…)

Capucine Mastema Dupuis || [15] || witch || the one with the braincell ; friendly ; ruthless

Maxime Dupuis || [25] || homosexual || filius nomine || heir of the Dupuis’ family ; indecisive ; loyal ; proud

Théo Dupuis || [24] || bisexual || secundo heres || malewife ; magical librarian ; ready to thow hands anytime

Gabrielle Phenex Dulac || [24] || bisexual || witch || can’t believe she married a Dupuis ; done with everything ; this close to just running away from this town

Other characters include several 4 grandmothers with their own issues, the parental circle (TW), Capu’s friends, a woman trapped in a mirror, a swamp monster, a scarred woman and the moon.

More about the world : magic is a strange, volatile things and to controle it, it's best to unite several magical families in a single Circle. Women, for some reason, are born less often than men, which means that each Circle only has a single woman for two or three men (or even more, if the main family is powerful enough). Eve parental Circle (Cercle Dupuis Majeur) is composed of three fathers and one mother, but none of them have any interest in her life. Out of all her siblings, only Théo has his own Circle, with Gabrielle Phenex Dulac, but theyr are mourning the third member of their Circle. They have four grandmothers, two of which do not have a Circle anymore. The magical world is still separate from the human world, with entire city blocks dedicated to magical users in big cities like Diciennes, and magical-folks-only towns like Meluya.

[PLAYLIST] [PINTEREST BOARD] [GENERAL TAG]

This story is (probably) going to be my NaNo project this year and one of my main subject for Sapphic September!

[mireya-the-awkward-extrovert]

♪Mireya

My main acc: @mireyaaaaaa

☆Name: Mireya

☆Age: 14

₊·*◟Birthday on 23rd January ◜‧*･

☆Resides at cabin7 ₊·*◟Apollo◜‧*･

☆Hobbies: Reading, writing, singing, playing instruments, gardening, photography and filmmaking, making jewelerry, talking~ oh and some other stuff I can't remember

☆Personality: awkward but loves to talk and make new friends, golden retriever, kinda sensitive... Okay maybe a lot.. And is also kind of embarrased to approach new people because of her awkward personality even though she wants to

☆Loves her plushie bunny a lot (her now deceased brother gave it to her)

**about her mortal family

Mother- Cassandra suncrest

Step father- Maverick Suncrest

Older brother- Phoenix Suncrest @phoenix-isnt-dead

☆Heterosexual

《I'm open to keep my ocs in a realtionship》

｡ﾟooc: I'm a minor so no nsfw intercations pleaseﾟ｡

☆MBTI: ENFPﾟ｡✧°ﾟ｡

☆Height: 5'4

☆Years at camp: 0 (just arrived)

☆She hasn't decided yet but is probably going to be an all year round camper since her brother was killed in a car crash (ooc: currently writing lore for Mireya, everything will be explained... I'm sorry I procastinate)

☆weapon of choice: an amethyst dagger flaked with gold, can switch into a bow too

☆Appearance: wavy, long blonde hair, almost always smiling, has heterochromia but got bullied for it so wears eye contacts

☆Bestieees:

Irene♡ @iwillsarcasmthemonstersaway

Ivory♡ @when-stupid-meets-chaos

Penelope♡ @archery-and-musicals

Cam♡ @one-of-apollos

Lara♡ @oh-to-be-a-robot

☆New friends who I want to be closer to:

Serene @arisdaughter

Naomi @random-daughter-of-hades

Alp and Nuray @best-siblings-ever

Cameron Gwen Grace @gwengracecameron

Lucas @if-chaos-was-a-boy

♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*

☆Tag I use: #₊·*◟mireya speaking◜‧*･

And

₊·*◟mireya reblogs◜‧*･

And

#₊·*◟mireya speaking ooc◜‧*･

And

₊·*◟open starters☆◜‧*･

When I start posting more of her backstory and lore I'll use ₊·*◟Mireya loreee☆◜‧*･

♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*♡o｡+..:*

ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʷᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ^^

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(ʷʰᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵒ)

@will-solace-aaaaa

@cabinseventheaterchick

@one-of-apollos

@apollos-favorite-child

@iwillsarcasmthemonstersaway

@apollos-only-sane-child

@arisdaughter

@the-forgotten-apollo-kid

@the-forgotten-son-of-aphrodite

@when-stupid-meets-chaos

@never-too-much-kool-aid

@archery-and-musicals

@thatonebitheaterkid

@if-chaos-was-a-boy

@random-daughter-of-hades

@evie-the-hecate-goth

@best-siblings-ever

@cabin7-bookworm

@your-lucky-lady

@gwengracecameron

@oh-to-be-a-robot

Dad(dads...?)who probably don't know I exist>> (hii!)

@thatoneprophecyguy @the-god-of-sun @apollo-god-of-prophecy

(sᴏʀʀʏ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛɪғs-)

If anyone wants to rp as besties with me, lmk<33 I'm okay with keeping my character in a relationship too so js send an ask or dm :)

✽・:..｡o￠o｡..:・✽・:..｡o￠o｡..:・✽・:..｡o￠o｡..:・

I have a post with pictures of her, her weapon and few other pictures for her hobbies i couldn't add on this post

back story under the cut

Born in Manhattan, her mother Cassandra decided to shift back to Thailand, her hometown, with her boyfriend Maverick and get married when she was age 3. Her parents never really cared for her, it was her brother Phoenix, who raised her. He left for New York for college though.

At age 13, she finally decided to run away and traveled all by herself to find her brother.

She was made the heiress to her family riches after Phoenix fled away, her going missing was manipulated into kidnapping. She came from one of the most powerful bloodlines in Thailand, the one closest to the royals since the very beginning.

He's supposedly dead according to Mireya because they were ambushed and he seemed to have died. (He isn't actually dead, it'll be explained as the lore goes on i guess)

[fabiolajyx]

They cancelled The Serpent Queen and I am so fucking mad!!

I'm french and guess where do I live? In the Loire Valley!! My hometown, Vendôme, is where The House of Bourbon (the one we see in the show) is from. Their full name is actually de Bourdon-Vendôme, because there are three different branches and if we only mention "Bourbon", it's kind of confusing because we don't know which branch we speak of and Bourbon-Vendôme is the one Henri IV is from. Which means, the character that we see in the show lived in the castle located next to my elementary school! I was young but I can still see and hear my teacher telling my class "This castle next to us was a big deal.". Henri IV didn't live here but he came a few times, especially when his mother, Jeanne d'Albret, died and was buried here (along with Antoine and their first born son (and Louis, Antoine's brother)). So when Jeanne died in the show, in the story, they technically should have been in my hometown (and Antoine and Louis should have been already dead lol). Same as when Antoine and Louis went back home to their dads. François I, François II, Marie Stuart, Charles IX and Catherine came here. Sadly, the castle is just ruins now... But it makes me sad that they never mentioned the name of the town once. Even Reign mentioned it. I mean, everyone knows that Reign was more fiction than facts but still, they mentioned Vendôme in one of the latest episodes of the show and it's still one of my proudest moment 🥹

Since I live in Vendôme, it means that I live 30 min away from le Château de Chambord, where they filmed most of the show. I love going there whenever I can but sadly, I never got the chance to go there when they were filming... 💔 It was weird and funny to see how they edited the outsides of the castle. Some editing didn't make any sense but I get it. Also, the big gardens are from a completely different castle located in Villandry. So it was weird to see Chambord edited in the background. And it didn't make any sense when we would see Chambord fully and the gardens weren't there, haha.

Also, le Château d'Amboise was used two times and they kinda disrespected it 😅 I'm not entirely serious when I say this but I kinda I am. The first time is in the season one finale, when Mary "arrives" in Scotland. The second that I saw the location I said "Oh, Amboise" and then I saw the ocean next to it and realised that it was supposed to be Scotland 😭 The second time was in season two when Catherine visits Diane (who is still pretty young and most importantly, miraculously still alive in 1572 😭). When Diane and Catherine talk we discover that they are in "Anet" (where she died in 1566). I was so happy when they mentioned where they were in the story but I was like "but, but, it's Amboise, guys 😭". It's funny and confusing for me because I know those castles but it's perfectly fine for an audience who has no clue. Also, le Château d'Anet is a private property, so I don't know if they would have allowed the show to come and filmed there, but also I've seen a documentary a few months ago and the owner seems very sweet, so I don't know. They also used Amboise, the town, to be Paris, where Catherine's brother was supposed to build le Palais des Tuileries.

And last but not least, I wanna talk about Blois (20 min away from me, next to Chambord) Oooh, Blois is probably my biggest heartbreak from that show. In season one, it made sense to be in Chambord because this castle was François I's baby but he lived there for only a month. Henri II didn't live there but kept the constructions going. When Henri II died, François II didn't live there. Charles IX didn't live there either but just like his father before him, he kept the constructions going and consolidated it. Henri III and Henri IV didn't live there and didn't do anything to it (it's such an Anjou and Henri behavior if you ask me haha). But if Henri II, François II, Charles IX and Henri III didn't live there, then where did they live, you ask?! Well, they lived in BLOIS. Which means that the whole show should have been happening in le Château de Blois, not Chambord. Y'all have no idea how excited I was when I heard that season 2 was filming in Blois. I thought, finally, they are going to aknowledge the most important castle of the Valois! I mean they actually all lived there and this is where Catherine died!! When I say that that castle is important to the Valois' story, it's because it is. Do I need to tell you how disappointed I was when I saw season 2 last week? A) I was expecting multiple scenes in the castle and well, that didn't happen. B) I had to wait the very last episode to see what they filmed there. C) THEY DIDN'T EVEN FILMED IN THE CASTLE!!! We see all the Protestants walking across the bridge, we see a few streets that I'm not even sure if it's actually Blois and then we see the castle, in the background, behind all the protestants who are looking at a cathedral that is not even located there. THEY EDITED THE CATHEDRAL OF TOURS IN BLOIS 😭 It's not fair. Honestly, all the editing stuff didn't really bother me. I understand that they did whatever they needed to for the aesthetic of the show. But not mentioning once the name of the town that was important to the true Valois Kings and Queens is something that I truly don't understand.

The show is about the French history, is filmed in France and guess what? We had NO WHERE TO WATCH IT IN FRANCE. The show arrived like a week ago on Max and it's been n°5 in the top 10 since then. French people want to see their country in a show and support it, we have the proof and THEY CANCEL IT?! I am so upset. They could have give it a third and last season to wrap it up. Season 2 was so much better than season 1. The Valois siblings did bring so much more depth, especially Anjou.

I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I'M LOSING KING ANJOU. The potential that he had was insane.

Okay, I'm gonna shut up now and cry about it 😭

[chromatic-lamina]

Excerpt from Taxi

An older piece of mine, in light of recent international events genocidal invasions. Characters: Trafalgar Law and Rebecca

Modern day AU with universe elements. The lines of the poem in the middle is from a Mahmoud Darwish poem, I Come From There, and the one line excerpt Rebecca goes on to quote is from 24th September 1945, by Nazim (Nasim) Hikmet.

Setting: Taxi driver Law has picked up Rebecca from the airport, conversation and recognition about fucked-up pasts ensue on their way to Zoro's dojo. ***********

"Where are you from?" she asked.

"Hmm?" Law looked up, a little surprised. Pre-empted. Hardly got that question nowadays.

"You're not from here."

"I grew up here."

"Weren't born here."

"No." He fiddled with the buttons of the radio as always when white noise was less threatening than conversation. What had given him away?

"You had to leave a place?"

He looked over his shoulder for a second. The burning of his hometown was seared into his memory, but didn't scorch his every waking moment. Not now.

"Who are you, sister?"

She opened her bag. Rooted around for a bottle of water. Uncapped it and took a drink. She eased a foot out of one of the sneakers. Flexible, lithe. Some strength in the casual, well-kept body. Her feet didn't smell either. That was some achievement.

"Me too," she said. She wondered if the tattoos hid scars. "Had to leave a place."

"I see."

The road was hemming them in like a wall to keep them out, to separate them from everything that anyone ever wanted. The discards, broken toys, the displaced, were shovelled along the asphalt like coal into a furnace chute.

"Or we were kept from a place. Like this." She waved at the concrete zipping by. "My father and I were not allowed to participate in society. Wrong class. My mother was shot."

Law nodded. People told taxi drivers everything. They'd never see them again, right? Except he knew where she was going.

"Zoro helped me out. In the past."

Just like Doflamingo and Cora had helped him. He had an idea that Zoro's assistance might have had a few less long-lasting entanglements.

"Who shot her?" he asked, running his fingers back and forth on the wheel. He didn't need to ask if the wounds were fatal.

"New government." Her eyes were on the verge zipping past, dimming into evening.

"My father," she paused, "It almost destroyed him. He loved her." She wanted to see more than concrete, but the fastest way was the most sterile. She took in the stiff back in front of her, but didn't feel any crackle of anger. "You look like someone who understands the songs."

Law remembered. His father, the meetings, going with Lammy and his mother to buy the hot, flat bread, piles of it like pancakes. It was so easy to make, but she didn't have time. She was going to teach him one day. A different kind of flour. Didn't hurt his stomach.

The sickness that had almost taken Lammy, if the soldiers hadn't beaten the condition to it, was never far from the surface in those days. He remembered the words his dad had taught him before the Donquixote brothers took him. His father had arranged for them to do so. The soldiers came soon after.

He saw the body, the death. His glasses shattered on the floor as he fell forward. Thinking at the time, how would his father see? He was blind without his glasses. Someone's hand over Law's mouth — Was it Cora? — holding him back. This woman was the same as him? Same as Law?

"I have my own view, And an extra blade of grass." Smooth, the lines were loud enough to be heard from the back of the cab, but no dramatics, not shouting.

"Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words, And the bounty of birds," she answered. The moon was now actually in the sky. An orange ball rising ahead of them. Both rested a beat before Law continued.

"And the immortal olive tree. I walked this land before the swords…"

He had long shifts. Reciting the hope, the history, his father had taught him kept him near, and sure helped pass the time. Less fear in them than warnings and prayers. Kept his family close. Maybe his tatts were like the beads of a rosary, the stanzas of an ode.

"Turned its living body into a laden table." The woman pushed her fringe up and settled the scarf over her head and shoulders. "I come from there."

"You come from there?" Law asked. He thought he was the only one left.

She shook her head. "Sorry." She'd heard the click of want. "But his words, those works." She looked out the window again. She knew Law knew how they crossed nations. The poet came from there, and his words went everywhere.

"Your father is?"

"Still alive. Things are good now."

Was Zoro a mercenary? How had he helped this woman out? Some kind of missionary?

"In body, mind and soul?"

She wished she could see the driver's face better. Only the dregs or the very wealthy marked themselves up in her society. Both had helped her. It was darker now. Maybe his voice told her more about him than anything.

"The best days have yet to be lived." Different wordsmith, same desire to see the sun shine freely. She wasn't sure though if the best was before her. It had always been warm in her mother's arms.

"Preach." Law loosened the back of his shirt from the seat, from Ace's massager. He wasn't sure though. The few scraps of photos Doflamingo and Cora somehow scavenged were all he had of his family. Festivals had been fun. Studying medicine with his parents had made him proud.

Lovely sketche done for me by @fablecore in support of the Palestine Children's Relief fund,

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for walking out on my training?

Basically, I (23m) was raised from birth by my aunt and uncle (who, sadly, have passed away). While I was curious about my bio parents, my aunt and uncle didn’t know them very well due to my dad being my uncle’s estranged step-brother, and I was pretty much content with my family life. My dad came up in conversation occasionally, but all I really heard was that he died before I was born and was involved with illegal drug dealing. That’s not that uncommon around my hometown, though, so I didn’t think much of it.

Cut to about four years ago, my family purchased some secondhand equipment. One unit said it belonged to a man with the same last name as a member of our community, B (50’s-60’s?m). When I got curious and went to investigate, I ended up finding out that they were the same person, and that he knew my father. It also turns out that my father was NOT a drug runner, but a member of a religious order that was outlawed around the time I was born. (Before you ask, no, it is not a cult. The government has been repressing it, but its main tenets are mindfulness, self-discipline, respect for life, and harmony with the universe ffs. ANYWAY) B offered to induct and instruct me in it. I initially declined because the training would take me away from my family, but changed my mind after my aunt and uncle died, at which point I didn’t have many links left to my hometown, since all of my friends had left for school. This also offered me a chance to learn to pilot (my dream) and get involved with some wider social activism that I’ve been interested in, not to mention that I was excited about the new information about my father and a chance to connect with his legacy.

Long story short, we found a message hidden in the equipment from a diplomat with connections to B and ended up helping her (“L”, 23f) escape unjust imprisonment by government officials, but were separated from B.

L turned out to be a member of the activist group that I was interested in, and I’ve been doing that for the last few years, and was recently contacted by B to go train with his old teacher, Y. It occurred in a pretty isolated location, but at one point I (correctly) suspected L and other friends of ours had ended up getting in a rough spot with the gov again, and I stopped in the middle of my training to go help them despite not having any solid information on what was going down, against the advice of B and Y, who seemed pretty disappointed.

Unfortunately, one of our friends was left behind, having been incapacitated and more securely held due to some trouble with a mob boss. When I went back to Y to finish my training, he declared me a full member of the religious order, even though my training was never fully finished and kind of spotty to begin with, and passed away shortly afterward.

Since then, I’ve been dealing with some imposter syndrome and feeling like if I’d stayed to finish my instruction, very little would have really changed for the worse for my friends and I would be more prepared to carry out my duties as the last member of the order, especially since I was so eager for it (and still am!). I’d give more details, but it’s be risky for me. You know how it is even just for protestors and such rn.

So, AITA?