#i dreamt abt this once and it was terrible

[mapsareforbraindeads]

the cold hard truth

late-night confessions

a game of lying monsters - the final remarks of the great detective L

just two bisexuals writing in their silly little notebooks

look me in the eyes and call me your love

you know what? fuck you *amnesias your light*

im asking abt ALLL of these!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

damn ok /pos

this is going under a cut because i’m providing a description AND excerpt for each fic which is. a lot

the cold hard truth is the only one i need to keep quiet about. it’s a one shot that’s going to be published after true successor is over. it spoils the entire fic so i can’t talk much about it but i WILL say this: it’s L’s pov :)

L shot the pen into the pile of junk as his vision blurred. Is this what his mother had seen all those years ago? That bright, beautiful light? The bells. Those bells that cried out death and despair. The bells he could almost hear now.

“No…”

late-night confessions is the fic i write whenever i want to write but am too drained/sick to think about actually writing. it’s basically a post-yotsuba arc story where light confesses his love to L. original.

“I dreamt that I killed you.”

“This isn’t helping your innocence, Light.”

“I don’t think that you understand,” Light growled, “I dreamt that I walked into this room as you slept and stabbed you thirty-seven times in the heart as your blood soaked through my skin. You didn’t even scream as the color drained from your face. Do you know how terrifying that is to think about?”

a game of lying monsters is… interesting. it’s written kind of like LABB, but instead of mello talking about beyond, it’s L talking about light.

The monster that I am is cunning. He stalks his prey meticulously before making his moves. He poses as a friend in an attempt to lower their guard. I am the world’s greediest, most despicable monster. Worse than Beyond Birthday, murderer of men and children alike. Worse than my dearest father, who left my mother and I for dead without warning. And most definitely worse than Kira, the world’s “just” killer of inmates and criminals. My mind is a house to evils beyond imagination. And yet, I still declare myself to be righteous.

the next fic is my kira!lawmane au. it has a name but i think the current title is funnier. anyways it’s a pretty basic premise

“Ah, my apologies, Amane-san. Your clothing and personal items were confiscated due to your confinement,” A beat, “Please forgive me, it was necessary for our cover.”

Misa smiled, “Don’t worry about it! And please, just call me Misa!” Misa grabbed onto L’s hand, causing his face to be dusted in a faint pink.

“R…Right,” L stuttered, “Of course, Misa-chan.”

“Ooh!~” Ryuk sing-songed, “She’s ‘Misa-chan’, huh?”

look me in the eyes and call me your love is a bit experimental. it’s basically a second person story where the reader is light going through his execution. the issue? L is the one escorting him there. i haven’t written L’s part yet though whooops

You’ve grown used to the cuffs wrapped around your wrists and ankles; grown used to the yellowed walls surrounding you and those metal bars keeping you from the outside world.

You’ve been here before, of your own will. You thought you’d never end up here again. But alas, you have once again fallen under the watchful eye of the camera placed in front of you.

finally, my amnesiac!light au. this one actually doesn’t have a name lol. anyways, you may be thinking “but vari, light already loses his memory!” haha! you fool!

What were they going to do to him?

The voice spoke again. “Light, this is a terrible act and horribly unlike you. Are you alright?”

He looked up at the camera, raising an eyebrow. “Who’s Light?”

#vari answers #mutuals #death note #true successor #late-night confessions #agolm #kira!lawmane au #lmiteacmyl #other fic doesn’t have a tag yet lol

[poorlydrawnmcyt]

conductor Dream conductor Grian

#edit: grian's wings wink wink #aka wilbur missed the first train #im so sorry for this #i dreamt abt this once and it was terrible #hc x dsmp #wilbur soot #grian #dream smp #dsmp #hermitcraft #fanart #art #mcyt #i half-assed the bg dkjfgfdh #this is how c!Dreamslayer can still win #<<grian has killed him on his way here

[nicolos]

from my in-my-head au, where not!bathsheba reader and gabriel are engaged before they go to readers newly inherited farm, but they'll be disguised as two people who are not engaged when they get there, so naturally they're upset abt it. but this is pure flirting. yes I'm in love w this man yes this is completely self indulgent no i have no regrets

Perhaps sensing the black mood verging upon the both of you, Gabriel interrupted, voice far too cheerful, with: "Do you know what I shall miss?"

You inclined your head in question. "Saying your name," he said. "And hearing you say mine."

"Yes," you said, frowning. You had quite forgotten that you would no longer be referring to him in such an intimate way—it would probably require some practice. Yet another loss.

"I remember how nervous I was, when you said that there was one more thing. Half-convinced you would reject me, and say all that had come before was just a laugh."

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself at the memory. You had been so terribly nervous yourself, when you first made that... request. Really, it had just been a whim, certainly not something you had thought of beforehand. Even for his supposed sincerity of affections—you still dreamt sometimes of how confidently he had said that he would never tire of you, not ever—your conditions had seemed to dampen his happiness, agree to them though he had. Really the purpose of that final request had been to return him to his former cheer. Show him some encouragement that was not hidden in ifs and buts. So you had asked, mouth faster than your brain: "that if we are... engaged. That you could perhaps call me not Miss Everdene, but... ___."

His answering smile had made it quite, quite worth it. "Then you must call me Gabriel," he had said, and you had smiled at each other for minutes like fools.

"I suppose we must have our fill of it now, then," you said, trying to remember the way you had felt then, and not that you were going to have none of that for the next months. "Of the saying and hearing both."

He hummed now, and you could clearly see the amusement at how very flustered you were, written in the twinkle of his eye. "As you say, ___" he teased.

You couldn't help the smile. "Quite so—Gabriel." He inclined his head, lips curled into what you had begun to recognise as fondness, and you leaned closer to him. "Gabriel," you began, "Gabriel. Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel..." and so on. Except that your playful tone with the first repetition could not last; the next came warmer, with awareness and fondness of the man you had come to know and like so well—then warmer still, and perhaps sadder, as your eyes sought to memorise each curve and corner of his features. Then shocked and laughing as he took your hand, surprising you; then softer, and growing slower, until you were all but whispering. For his part, he could be no more composed than you were. The faint amusement had faded as your own tone warmed, until he stared at you with the earnestness that had first won you to him, and behind it a hint of something else.

"Gabriel," you finished, voice almost inaudible. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, loud enough that he could likely hear it. It was a small carriage—and one that now felt tense and filled with heat.

Gabriel hummed, voice reverberating through you. "Is it my turn yet?" he murmured. You nodded your assent, breath held as though the sound might make you miss it. Then Gabriel leaned closer, and you forgot about breathing entirely. "___," he began, a rough whisper into your ear.

You would not have thought it possible, but your heart rate quickened. You raised your head, and found him staring at you.

"___," he said again, warmer and with feeling, before pulling away. Blood rushed to your face at once. Had your mouth always been so dry? His thumb stroked a slow trail around the back of your palm; you tightened your hold. Gabriel's eyes shot down once, before rising again to your face, to your lips. "___," he said, now softer.

How could a man have the power to tear your composure apart thus, with only your given name? Your breath came more broken than it should, and seemed to whisper along Gabriel's skin, you were so close. His other hand rose to hold your face, fingertips barely touching your jaw. You leaned your head into it. "___," he all but groaned this time.

"Gabriel," you whispered back, and—unable to help it—leaned forward to press a kiss to the curve of his lips.

Even as you pulled away, cheeks blazing, he chased your mouth... but only for a moment, before you could do something foolish such as let him follow. Then he left you, head hanging down, hand leaving your cheek to rummage through his hair. You inhaled, pressing two fingers to your lips. You had never kissed anybody before—and you wouldn't have him, either, no matter how many times you'd thought of it, if it hadn't been for this. It would be months now before you had the chance to... to be his fiancee again, and not only Miss Everdene who owned the farm. It wasn't proper, but—well, you did not regret it. It gave you something to look forward to, as well as something to remember when you were lonely and missing his presence.

But when he didn't rise, your confidence gave way to nerves.

"Gabriel?" you asked, fingers perched just above his shoulders. He looked up, half a smile on his face, and shook his head. You withdrew your hand quickly.

"You... are a cruel tempter," he said, but teasing.

Your worries melted away, in that way only he had perfected. "I thought I was sweet?"

Gabriel straightened, still shaking his head. "It's your sweetness that tempts." His voice was rough with—with something. Something you wanted too. You shivered in place, but when you met his eyes, they were full of promise. "___."

Months. It was only a matter of—a few months.

#far from the madding crowd #Gabriel oak #fftmc fanfiction #puts face in hands like I hate it here #gabriel oak x reader #fuck u fftmc 2015 for giving me these feelings!!!!

[smalltragedycuckhold]

* herman tommeraas, cis man + he/him | you know donovan mercer, right? they’re twenty one, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, four months? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ice boy by corbin like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole fear hidden behind a stoic stare, bleeding from your nose and from your gums, and the night sky with all its stars, with all its mystery and unknown thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15th, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

looks away as i finally post his intro after being kinda awol fr however long. i love him a lot n hes also bri’s character mercy’s younger brother so u hv to be nice to him. think abt mercy’s life. then think abt ducky. im sry in advance tht his intro’s a little longer ive hd ducky fr like. a year or two n i’ve been playing him a While <3 as always like this if u’d like 2 plot n i’ll try 2 msg u bck bt otherwise im gna just hop right into threads bc obv i need to. change my methods.

ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DRUG ABUSE, EYE INJURY, GANG MENTIONS TW.

mini playlist.

father ;; the front bottoms / ice boy ;; corbin / lose yourself ;; eminem / my own worst enemy ;; lit / say it ain’t so ;; weezer / maps ;; yeah yeah yeahs / star stopping ;; lil peep / benz truck ;; lil peep / trauma ;; nf / northern downpour ;; panic! at the disco / your graduation ;; modern baseball.

statistics.

full name: donovan mercer.

nickname(s): ducky.

birthday: march 15th, 1999.

zodiac: pisces sun, aquarius moon, aquarius ascending.

mbti & temperament: intp & theorist / phlegmatic.

label: the despondent.

hometown: hell’s kitchen, new york.

sexuality: bisexual (bt not out). 

pinterest.

biography.

born in hell’s kitchen to vinny mercer and a mother who ran out of the hospital as fast as she could, as soon as she was able. she’d gone so quick that she’d never given ducky a middle name - just donovan. the younger brother of mercy (shoutout 2 bri)

his father’s the right-hand man of a well known mob boss named lars amaretto, and so, you can imagine the kind of environment ducky (& mercy) grew up in. weapon & drug dealings, interrogations, violence around every corner. a brutal way of living, no place to raise two children.

implied abuse tw // their father was not kind, or merciful - and ducky was a runt compared to mercy, small and sensitive and kinder than his brother. weak, and filled with softness, with big brown eyes and a smile that should’ve been able to melt ice - but it didn’t. and it never did.

he cried often, and was punished often for it until he learned to stop crying - at least in front of their father, and mercy too, at some point. only in the comfort of his room, with doors locked and blinds drawn closed. implied abuse end of tw

he dreamed, too, dreamt often. he’d been obsessed with outer space since childhood, as long as he could remember. school had once shown man landing on the moon, and ducky wanted that. wanted to be that, wanted to be there, up with the stars, discovering the unthinkable.

abuse mention // but it was discouraged, heavily so - projects destroyed by an angry fist only to be reconstructed to the best of ducky’s ability, with mercy’s help, all throughout the night. he’d saved up for a telescope when he was thirteen, but it’d been destroyed almost immediately when discovered. not a day went by that their father didn’t tell ducky that he was, first and foremost, stupid - and would always be. end of abuse mention

to the point where he stopped trying, simply. he never graduated high school.

abuse mention // anxiety mention // anyways … at the age of fifteen, he’d have enough. he was sick of the abuse, the pain - the crying behind closed doors, the sneaking around, the constant feeling of needing to escape, impending doom, anxiety attacks in the shower and in school bathrooms and at the back of the bus where nobody sat besides him because he was - that boy, the son of that man, the brother of that brute. he’d been a teenager and he’d already been an outcast by all means - an outcast in his family, no matter how hard he tried to appease vinny, and an outsider everywhere else.

the plan took months of preparation, paper ripped out from the back of his school notebook and stuffed beneath his mattress, details of his escape from a checklist of essential items to makeshift maps of bus routes to different cities.

all for nothing, the moment vinny discovered it, the edge of a map sticking out after a rushed morning.

heavy abuse tw // violence tw // it’d been the same day he’d gotten the nickname - ducky - the way the wound wrapped below his mouth, and the way it’d begun to heal - puckered, at first, like a duck’s bill. a better name than eyepatch, at the very least. the scar’d run from the arch of his left brow, across his eye, down his cheek, and below his lip. his eye sustained injury, and not allowed to see a doctor about it, it never healed properly.

eye injury // corneal scarring, impairing his left eye. astronaut dreams destroyed, but not in a matter of seconds. in the matter of an hour, maybe more - and that’d been much, much worse. 

he stopped trying to run away after that. tried to be more like their father, more like mercy - more brutish, less feeling. spoke less, and less. spoke hardly at all, unless spoken to first.

still didn’t matter. still lived his days in fear, still knew it’d never change. nothing would ever change.

the mercer brothers have been floating around the north carolina scene for ~5ish years now, trailing after their father who is consistently chasing after their mother with no luck. they’re currently residing in palm motel. can we get a hell yeah?

personality & facts.

he’s actually very? intimidating? when you first meet him. mercy’s younger brother, with a criminal’s record almost as long as his - a scarred face and a mean resting face. it takes at least five minutes of conversation beyond small talk before it starts to weigh on your mind that maybe, he’s not as bad as he seems.

and - well, he isn’t. but he’s guarded - so guarded. more-so than mercy, because mercy’s quicker to anger, quicker to react, and ducky tries so hard to drown out the noise. but he’s not a robot, and his facial expressions can give him away in a second.

he’s seen what happened when mercy had a glimpse of something good in his life (though, it wasn’t actually good at all - mercy had someone, at least. at the very least) - and how quickly it’d all fallen, and so ducky puts a barrier between him and others. distant, as much as he can be.

it hurts, because ducky isn’t by any means antisocial. he doesn’t hate people - he wants to be normal, wants to have friends and a girlfriend - or maybe even a boyfriend, god - but he’s so afraid. ducky is, by nature, a very scared person. terrified to his very core. he knows there is always eyes on him, and mercy too, and he knows that nothing is worth getting someone else hurt.

you know him as mercy’s little brother, and he’s quiet you know that - but his name is ducky, and you think - he’s not too bad. and he knows this, knows the doubts. knows that it’ll get back to mercy, eventually, that his brother is nothing more but a pussy. so he fights more than he’d like to, against the guilt that buries itself deep within his chest with every thrown fist. he throws up, afterwards, in the garbage can outside. too much to drink, he says, rare grin - because grins are convincing, and grins with bleeding gums are intimidating. he learned that from his brother.

violence makes him sick to his very stomach. he can’t watch horror films, or even action films, without feeling queasy. there’s been more times than he can count where he’d thrown up after a fight, or after an interrogation, usually in private but in the occasional presence of mercy.

they fight, a lot, sometimes - ducky’s too soft, too weak, and it’s bad and it’s terrible and ducky knows that mercy’s afraid. for him, of their father, and his wraith. ducky knows that if mercy isn’t hard on him now, their father will be on him harder. still. there’s resentment, small but there, like the flame of a match. he doesn’t know what’ll happen when there’s nothing more to burn, but he doesn’t want to find out. he’s afraid to find out.

he’s still in love with the moon and the stars, and the planet’s - and their moons, too. its subdued, now, though. a silent passion - one that is often not watered, left for rot. he sneaks into engineering lectures at the community college, occasionally, or physics, or whatever peeks the small curiosity inside of him.

commits small acts of kindness when nobody looks. doors held open, the meals of elderly folk eating alone suddenly paid. picks up litter besides trash bins, and always cooks extra than what he needs and leaves the rest for mercy. it’s these small things that make him feel, just the slightest, better about himself.

because god - there are layers and layers of self-loathing. it’s a labyrinth, and he’d never speak of it - but he can’t stand his own reflection. doesn’t keep photos of his family, only a few sparingly of mercy.

a liar, sad to say. has little experience with. ehem. intimacy, and the bodies of others, but lies often and says that he does. mostly to his brother, but word travels quick - and he’s not nearly as much as a fuckboy as is rumored, having only been with a handful of girls, if even that. it’s better this way - if people know that he throws others away like they’re nothing.

he ghosts often, too, if he does get to talking with anybody. the moment ducky feels a spark, something pulling at his poor heart, he ghosts. he develops feelings too easily, too often than he’d like. has left many friendships without explanation, because of this. you know the priest in fleabag season 2? the scene where he comes to fleabag’s house? yeah. tht’s ducky!

has maybe half the amount of clients that mercy does, but he’s working on it.

pretends he doesn’t care as much as he does. pretends a lot, like there’s nothing soft to him. but a trained eye can see clearly through this. even so - even if you can see that there’s more to ducky than violence and drug deals - you’d still have to break through a dozen walls.

in the rare occasion you get him talking - i mean, talking a lot - he’ll talk about space. ramble off a dozen useless facts about dwarf stars and black holes and all of jupiter’s moons. about a video game he likes, about nothing and everything at all. but as soon as he begins, he stops - embarrassed. apologizes, shuts his mouth, disappears to wherever. anywhere but there.

drug abuse // has a. complicated relationship with benzos n xanax n a various assortment of painkillers. ironic bc he hates drugs due to. his chosen career n wldnt do most of what they sell, bt yknow. this ws inevitable. hates beer bt forces himself 2 drink it bc toxic masculinity probably man idk.

overall just … he’s a soft boy, with a big heart - bigger than anybody else in his family, that’s for sure, but his exterior is far different than that, and it’s hard to tell.

violence mention // purposely loses fights so that he doesn’t have to severely hurt someone. because sometimes he just - he was raised in a violent environment, and sometimes he snaps. sometimes ducky just fucking snaps. and his vision goes red, and he can’t control himself - because need to survive kicks in, and violence is all he knows. if someone pushes ducky - pushes him enough, he breaks. he fights back. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows. it’s all he knows, and that’s not an excuse - and he knows this, and god, he’s so tired. he is so. tired.

wanted plots.

u look good tonight ... ;; wld love a connection in which he is feeling emotionally compromised n maybe kinda hs a thing w someone bt hes like. very unreliable n kinda ghosting bc he is very afraid n it wld b maybe bad fr them to b anything other than hook ups. cld apply to smth very intensive or smth very surface lvl i’ll take thousands.

palms sweaty ... moms spaghetti ... ;; ppl tht ducky just hs fkn brawled. cld b anybody fr any reason. ducky prob lost n he prob lost on purpose bt also ur muse cld maybe kick ducky’s ass? cld b a fake fight cld b a real fight. cld b a npc fight n then ur muse cn patch up ducky? possibilities endless. maybe they hv a nice spaghetti dinner n both of them r both bruised up frm their fight. sometimes fights end in spaghetti dinners. thanks eminnem or whatever.

own worse enemy... ;; ducky needs friends bt hes bad at making friends n sometimes he fks shit up by pushing ppl away n self sabotaging n being a major cunt n sometimes he just ghosts bt hes always very remorseful abt it? this cld b a very like. up n down friendship of any type its just. where do they stand. r they friends. r they enemies. r they lovers? probably not lovers. prob just platonic. but still its the thought tht counts. 

and also ;; literally just like. anything. clients who buy off of him n like. casual friends n casual enemies n casual hookups. ppl hes ghosted. ppl hes embarrassed himself in front of. maybe ur muse tries to get ducky to socialize or maybe ducky is like. u are too much fr me. n ur muse runs off crying. endless possibilities all u hv to do is call this number now. 

#abuse tw #violence tw #drug abuse tw #gangs mention #eye injury tw #irvingintro #( ducky mercer. ) about. / ice boy. #sighs sm #also sry fr hw embarrasingly late this is #did i even spell tht rigth? no #did i spell tht one right? bno. #fuck.

[princess-of-france]

i would love to hear abt your rococo lll

Oh my gosh, you lovely human, settle in. This production is my Ultimate Theater Pipe Dream and I apologize in advance for how little chill I’m going to have as I explain it. 

Are you ready? 

I want to start with my standard disclaimer: I am a theater artist, not a literary critic or a historian. When I’m directing a play, I extract fragments of lit crit and historical fact as I need them and leave the rest on the buffet line. This LLL in particular requires me to play fast and loose with history, so be prepared for a truckload of anachronisms. They make the vision work!

So, with that…

The sad Catch-22 of my Rococo LLL is that no theater will ever put it up:  a smaller, indie, risk-taking theater wouldn’t be able to afford the astronomical production costs of casting the 20 actors I need, to say nothing of building opulent sets and period-accurate costumes that imitate the royal courts of the late 18th century; conversely, a large, well-funded, regional theater wouldn’t be able to justify funding a 2.5-hour Shakespeare retelling that turns one of his most sparkling comedies into a dark, violent allegory about the French Revolution and casts young, privileged, light-skinned European elites as the tragic heroes brought low by proletariat Jacobean reform. Even as I type these words, I realize how irresponsible an investment that would be. My Rococo LLL is not the kind of classical theater we need in America right now. It is retrograde in terms of diversity, equity, accessibility, and social justice. It probably says something terrible about me that I even dreamt it up in the first place.

And yet.

I want to direct this production so badly it feels like I’ve swallowed a piece of the sun. If I had all the proper resources (time, money, venue, artists, designers, marketing, etc.), I would do it tomorrow. It’s my baby.

Here’s a blurb that kind of nutshells it all together:

July 1789. King Charles VI of Navarre has died, leaving his son, young Ferdinand III, to take the throne. On a tide of Enlightenment idealism, King Ferdinand commissions his three best friends to join him for a period of ascetic study at the court of Navarre. The rules are simple: no luxuries, no alcohol, and no women. For three long years.

The boys’ oath is immediately put to the test when four young ladies arrive in Navarre on a diplomatic mission from Versailles. Led by the spirited Duchess d’Albret, the Frenchwomen and their mile-high coiffures prove irresistible to the King and his companions. With the help of a motley band of scholars and servants, they set out to woo the Duchess and her friends. But when sober news arrives from Paris, will young love be enough to rewrite history?

Set against the glittering backdrop of the last golden days of the ancien regime, this bold reimagining of Shakespeare’s beloved comedy invites us to look at the most famous revolution in Western history through the eyes of the young elites who learned the truth about privilege just a moment too late.

Of all the radical things I want to do with this production, the thing that would probably cause the most controversy (and earn me a reputation for being a narcissistic, pessimistic, Shakespeare-desecrating hack) is my addition of a prologue set in Paris in June 1793. I could try to sum it up here, but honestly I think it would be a lot more effective and comprehensive just to post the excerpt from my script:

…etc.

So basically, half my audience will vomit due to the unexpected onslaught of blood, gore, and violence…and the other half will vomit from the sheer anti-progressivism of the show’s politics. And I don’t blame anyone who finds fault with this production concept. On a political level, I find fault with it. Arguably the last thing our society needs right now is a Shakespeare production that paints young, pale, overprivileged trust fund babies as the poor, helpless victims of a liberal-led revolution for social equality. 

But at the same time, I can’t help but think that the entire point of Love’s Labour’s Lost is to make us look hard at our own privilege and ego, and weigh those things that seem sooo valuable against the true gifts of love, empathy, friendship, generosity, and kindness. 

“This is not generous, not gentle, not humble!” Holofernes cries as the Crazy Eight—high on adrenaline and their own cruel wit—jeer him off the stage during his performance as Judas Maccabeus in 5.2. More than any other, this moment epitomizes the value of setting LLL in a sex-charged, champagne-fueled, pastry-laden, cream-filled, lace-drenched, satin-covered, feather-topped, Rococo landscape. There’s no way in hell the audience is meant to sympathize with the insult-flinging prep school Kens and Barbies when they humiliate Holofernes to the point of tears. Shakespeare is way too smart for that. In the final whimsical moments before the messenger Marcadé comes onstage, laden with the news that is going to change the entire genre of the play, the Bard turns a critical spotlight on the young people we’ve been rooting for since Act One, Scene One and invites us to view them—for the first time, really—through the lens of the hardworking, lesser-privileged plebs of Navarre. The portrait is revolting. However witty, cultured, and elegant the courtiers might seem, they clearly have a lot more homework to do. Marcadé’s arrival a few short lines later is the final test of their youthful ego. Is being clever worth the price of experiencing love? Is love worth the price of responsibility? Is she brave enough to admit that she’s scared to take up the mantle? Is he brave enough to give up the one person who matters for the sake of the people he once mocked, the people he now must lead?

I don’t believe the Navarre Nerds and Les Filles have survived the centuries because they end the play as sharp-tongued, entitled, and self-absorbed as they behave at the start. We wouldn’t still be making and remaking this play if the protagonists were so static. I think the young people of LLL resonate with us—or, at least, they resonate with me—because in the course of Shakespeare’s plotless little play they grow up right before our eyes. King Ferdinand learns that he can’t bury his head in his books and ignore the responsibility of ruling when he watches the love of his life choose duty to her country over the desires of her own heart. The Princess learns that the cost of being the cleverest person is human connection when she finds herself laughing alongside Ferdinand at the antics of the Nine Worthies and somehow feels happier than she ever did when she was mocking him into the earth. Berowne learns that love wins every argument: against wit, against intellect, against bachelorhood, against willpower itself. Rosaline learns that love is strength, not weakness, and that she is stronger when she allows herself to feel. Dumaine learns that love demands vulnerability. Katherine learns that love is not a game. Longaville learns that love thrives on honesty. Maria learns that love takes courage. When the Crazy Eight say their heartbreaking goodbyes at the end of 5.2, they no longer care about sounding smart or superior; in fact, they speak against their own intelligence. The erudite Ferdinand trips over his words, the cynical Berowne invokes romantic idealism, the boastful Dumaine speaks with humility, the shy Longaville puts all his cards on the table. The women are no less altered. I don’t want to fall into the trap of ascribing an easy, one-size-fits-all moral maxim to LLL, but what else are we supposed to take away from this play if not the fact that we fucking owe it to ourselves as a species to set aside our stupid pride and say, “I love you,” when we feel it because we never know when time is going to run out? What else are we supposed to feel if not pride in these young people for choosing to step up and take responsibility when they hear news that the world outside is ending? That there may be no world left? Les Filles go with their Queen. The Nerds rally around their King. They choose fidelity to their respective kingdoms over the indulgence of love. But they also learn to value love for what it is, and to call it by name…even if that love can only last for a few fleeting seconds:

“If this or more than this I would deny,To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,The sudden hand of death close up mine eye.Hence ever, then, my heart is in thy breast.”

(King Ferdinand, V.ii)

As the Crazy Eight grapple in real time with the consequences of Marcadé’s message and what it means for their role as leaders in society, Rosaline gives Berowne a task to complete in their year apart that practically hums with poetic intelligence. Her lines are so iconic, we still quote them colloquially today:

BEROWNETo move wild laughter in the throat of death?It cannot be, it is impossible.Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

ROSALINEWhy, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit,Whose influence is begot of that loose graceWhich shallow laughing hearers give to fools.A jest’s prosperity lies in the earOf him that hears it, never in the tongueOf him that makes it. Then, if sickly ears,Deafed with the clamors of their own dear groans,Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,And I will have you and that fault withal.But if they will not, throw away that spiritAnd I shall find you empty of that fault,Right joyful of your reformation.

(V.ii)

I think this is the moment when I would start crying if I ever watched my Rococo LLL performed live. Because of all les Filles, I think Rosaline is the only one who knows that by choosing to accompany the Duchess back to Versailles at the end of LLL, she is effectively signing her death warrant. The Jacobeans and sans-cullottes are not going to want young, eligible, Catholic Rococo princesses wafting around their new, secular state. The guillotine may not yet exist in the summer of 1789, but the there is a thirst for blood and Rosaline can smell it. And now Bastille has fallen. Paris is on fire. King Louis XVI has months to live. The world will never be the same. Rosaline’s once-ordered, once-gilded country is careening into a bloody nightmare of soured ideals and ruthless social weeding, and even though she can’t see the future, she can read men like books. Even Berowne. Even the charismatic nihilist who earned a bachelor’s degree in bachelorhood and tried to hide his heart under a bushel. She can read him and she can save him. They can’t kill her husband if she doesn’t have one. 

Rococo LLL? I don’t know. It’s a pipe dream. 

But can’t you picture it? 

Tagging my girls @harry-leroy @suits-of-woe @lizbennett2013 @dedraconesilet @exeunt-pursued-by-a-bear @henriadical in case anyone is interested :)

Thanks a million for one of my favorite asks ever! Happy holidays, friend!!

xx Claire

#does anyone wanna hear about my Rococo LLL? #asks

[miraculous-ladybum]

Miraculous Fic Idea

I’m not sure if I’ll ever actually write this, but I dreamt it up one night and feverishly wrote it down at 3 AM. In case I never get around to it, here’s the rough outline I wrote. (I’m sorry for the terrible writing but again it was 3 AM and ya girl was going FAST)

·       Ladybug gets sick of chat’s flirting, tells him he can’t possibly think it would actually work

 “but my lady I am so suave”

 “ok then pick a random girl and pretend she’s me for a week and tell me how that goes”

“what but my lady”

“is there a girl in front of you in class?”

 “no”

“behind you?

Ya

She single

Ya

She cool

Ya

Her

What

Do it and then tell me how successful you are I promise she’s gonna be just as annoyed

·       Ladybug think she smart bc she offloads chat onto someone else

·       Adrien starts flirting with marinette and she is v confused

 Marinette.exe has stopped responding

·       Chat is like wah she hates me I love you this is pointless

“u gotta act like SHE IS ME buddy ok you gotta get over this”

Chat realizes she was trying to get rid of him

§  Dumb bb takes a fucking hint for once

§  “FINE THEN OK’

·       Actually acts like it’s her

Marinette starts responding like ladybug when she’s off guard, Adrien v encouraged

Wow this is actually getting easier also she puns too #soulmate

·       He asks her to a picnic, it’s awks at first then they have a fuckin blast

Actin like ladybug and chat noir

Possible chasing antics

·       Cue AKUMA

·       Ladybug asks how it’s going he says well but he feels wrong abt it when he still has feelings for ladybug

Lb is like listen bub it looks like you got smth good with her and it’s not gonna happen with me ok

What no

Ya know that guy I’ve been in love with for like forever well recently it’s actually been going really well with him and I think we have a chance so like.. you need to move on ( >:) DRAMATIC IRONYYY)

·       Cue Sad Adrien

·       Decides to Actually Try To Move On with mari

Asks her on a dinner date :O

·       Awks at first then he’s like UGH I’m sorry I can’t I just can’t get over this girl

Mari sad

But like she said it’s never gonna happen and I need to move on and I really like you but it doesn’t feel fair while I’m in love with her

Mari Grows A Pair and is like well frankly My Dear this girl is not worth it she is an IDIOT for turning down an amazing guy like you yadda yadda yadda she blind and her heart is stone cold and you deserve a girl that’s gonna return the love you give out #becauseyoureworthit and I think we have a great thing going (she starts to ramble and almost says bc I really like you but then she realizes what she’s saying and is like oh shit)

Adrien is just like :O

She’s like WOW LOOK AT MY WRIST I HAVE A PANINI IN THE OVEN I MUST LEAVE and starts to leave but then Adrien is like what were you going to say

And she is all torn but then swallows it bc GODDAMMIT THIS WAS GOING SO WELL UGH and is like I really like you

Then he’s like thank you marinette that actually…really helped. You’re right

And she’s like …yeah duh

Then he’s like oh you had to go?

No the panini can wait the oven wasn’t on

And they have dessert

·       When he drops her off he’s like thank u for what u said at dinner

And she’s all blush blush

·       Then he kiss her on the cheek and with his lips like an inch away from hers he’s like I really like you too

Then he gets in the car

Marinette is frozen then does a whole happy dance

·       Cue Adrien starting to get an Actual Crush on mari

Marinette looks amazing today wtf

No she looks normal dude

No way (gushes abt her)

My man you’ve got Marinette Vision

§  Cue whole class being thirsty 4 mari

§  Chloe tries to deny it but then sabrina outs her as thirsty too

·       Flirting shenanigans yeehaw

·       After class one day on the steps Adrien is abt to get in the car then runs back and movie kisses mari

I’ve been wanting to do that for a while

·       Kitty and lb have a <3 2 <3 abt their new boos

·       More dating shenanigans

·       Lila gets mad and is like mari is cheating on Adrien w/cn

Whole class gets mad

Mari is upset and is like babe I promise

 Adrien is like lol that is the wurst lie evah I believe u mari

 Nino sees them bein Happy Couple and is like dude u gotta know

Adrien gets Mad

Tells off lila in front of EVERYONE hahaha

·       Ok time 4 a reveal I think buckle in

·       Ok so Circumstances Happen and they end up in a battle with hawky

·       Chat’s ring gets removed somehow and he promptly gets stabbed by the hawks

Emotional Scene w/ lb

ADRIEN NO

“ladybug...take my ring... beat this fucker”

He dies

She gets ring somehow (depends how he lost it rn tbh)

She kiss him one last time

Puts on ring becomes GOD

·       Everyone is like :O (mb rena and carapace are there idk yet)

·       She MAD

Transformation is she GLOWS FROM EVERY ORIFICE AND FLOATS OFF THE FLOOR MENACINGLY AND HER HAIR IS FLOATING AND IT’S MAD WICKED MAN

Everyone still like :O

·       Hawky tries to say something and she is like SILENCE (also her voice is all boomy and needs to be in a Scary Font)

·       Dumb boi hawk still tries to fight and she just wipes her hand and both she and him disappear

Go into a meadow v peaceful as just themselves

They have a heart to heart

Gabe knows he been beat and gives his miraculous

They reappear and she does the most fuckin snatched miraculous ladybug of all time

Like Ultra Power

EVERYTHING in paris is fixed

Not just akuma stuff EVERYTHING

§  People in the hospital are cured

§  Adrien revived ofc

§  But also

·       Peacock miraculous is fixed (maybe they got it on the way to gabey haven’t decided yet could be an interesting future plotline but idk yet)

·       And So Is Emilie

Downstairs, deep under Agreste mansion, someone else awakens…

·       Gabey goes to Jail

Nobody checks on emilie bc he didn’t tell mari she was in a Shrine she thought she was like Dead ya know

·       Everyone is happy

·       Butterfly miraculous is returned

·       But then like a week later they discover that master fu has been brutally murdered

His apartment is ransacked and the butterfly miraculous is GONE

Idk yet How the others survived but they do

§  We’ll figure something

·       Suddenly, an akuma!!!

·       There’s a new Hawkmoth in town

·       Emilie.

·       Ya then like a whole second part maybe with post reveal relationship or just a cliffhanger and then there can be a sequel or just ya know a segue into the adult canon

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic idea #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lemme know if i should actually write this #i wrote like half a chapter of it #i can post that later if y'all want it #lemme know