bois cheri

2

At one point, I was looking at Kanon Nakajima’s page on the Danganronpa wiki and noticed that she doesn’t have an official listed height (or weight, for that matter). After looking around, I realized that only 3 of the Hit List targets (besides Komaru Naegi) have an official height. Because of this, I decided to do a bit of estimation (with a height chart) to see just about where everyone lines up.

Keep in mind… Hiroko Hagakure is actually taller than Yuta Asahina official-measurement-wise (5′7.5″ vs. 5′6″), but the latter appears taller than the former in the official artwork. For simplicity’s sake, I didn’t take Hiroko’s height into account when estimating, and rather, Yuta and Taichi’s.

Obviously, these are by no means official or accurate, the measurements are just approximations. (I measured to the highest point to [almost] the lowest point on their picture [just below the ankles on the artwork]. This includes hair!)

From left to right:
Kanon Nakajima: 5′ 0″
Hiroko Hagakure: 5′ 7.5″ (official)
Kenshiro: 6′ 6″
Fuhito Kirigiri: 5′ 5″
Sayaka Maizono’s Sister: 5′ 3.5″
Yuta Asahina: 5′ 6″ (official)
Takemichi Yukimaru: 5′ 2″
Fujiko Yamada: 4′ 1″
Takaaki Ishimaru: 6′ 5″
Aloysius Pennyworth: 6′ 6″
Grand Bois Chéri Ludenberg: 1′ 11″
Taichi Fujisaki: 5′ 9″ (official)

Kameko and Ayaka Haneyama are not pictured in the official artwork, so I could not assume their height. However, I do not assume that a stinkbug is very tall.

Helpless (Lafayette x Reader)

HELPLESS: lafayette x reader edition
(first fic; i chose this bc i am a sap for helpless and hoooo my gosh everytime i hear the song i keep on thinking about lafayette)
(also i know he married adrienne but shhhh she may be his wife but i’m his soulmate)

[warnings: fluff and bad writing]

translations:
“mon ange”
= “my angel”
“ton ange” = “your angel”
“mon soldat garcon” = “my soldier boy”
“votre soldat garcon” = “your soldier boy”
“mon cherie” = “my dear”
“mon cherie coeur” = “my dear heart”
“mon coeur” = my heart

(er, i didn’t use google translate for this, so i had to use the limited french i knew. forgive me if i’m wrong.)

NOTE: the “//” is supposed to signify a time skip


One of the clearest memories I have from that night was thinking in the carriage: “I’m going to regret this.”

I also remember the dazzling lights and the elegant dresses that surrounded me; charming faces that lit up the room, the happy voices contrasting the gloomy snow storm outside. Like every year, this was how it went: an annual Winter’s Ball, where ladies would find suitors and courters. I’ve only attended one ball before, and suffice to say it did not end without regrets. Since then, I’ve decided that balls were not for me, and any years succeeding then would end up with me shaking my head at my sisters. Balls are horrible, I thought. There is no way that fate will bring me to my soulmate with only a party. I refused every time they offered me to go with them.

But that year…that year was different.

When me and my sisters stepped into the ballroom, the crowd hushed. Whispering voices travelled through the room, hundreds of eyes on me and my three sisters. The man who took our invitations cleared his throat.

“Presenting…Angelica Schuyler, Eliza Schuyler, Peggy Schuyler and…(Y/N) Schuyler, the Schuyler sisters.” He said, pausing after Peggy’s name to read the fourth invitation. I wasn’t very surprised; only very few people have ever seen me in public before. I had been too busy reading and doing the chores in the house (despite my dad’s protest, “we have maids for a reason!”) to ever go out and enjoy the city life. Most of the time, I stayed behind with Peggy, although she usually went out more than I did.

I gulped as the crowd resumed to their dancing, the four of us descending down the steps. Eliza, who was beside me, nudged my shoulder. “Do you see anyone?” She teased, smirking. I look at her incredulously and shake my head, looking down. “Unless you count the floor as anyone, I suppose not.” Eliza chuckled and put her arm around my shoulder. “Come on, (Y/N), don’t worry! Just because the last time you were at a ball you punched a guy on the face doesn’t mean you’re going to do horribly this time. Plus, that guy deserved it.” She says, smiling. “True,” Angelica says from the front. “A man who does not respect a woman deserves whatever injury comes his way.” Peggy laughed at her statement, and I smiled at them. For the record, they always made me feel better about myself, despite the constant harassment whenever a boy approached me.

As soon as we reached the last step, Angelica is whirled into the dance floor. Peggy immediately goes to the buffet table as I decided to stay with Eliza at the side, unnoticed and blending in with the dresses that surrounded us.

A while later, we were talking about Angelica’s current dance partner (she’s had seven) when the crowd looked up the stairs to see a new group walk into the room. They were all men, obviously ready to get drunk.

I was about to return to our conversation with Eliza when I saw the most dazzling smile.

Suffice to say, I was captivated. Enchanted. Absolutely flabbergasted. Previously, the room was lit up by the laughs and the charming grins of the people around us, but now, the man’s smile shone like a thousand suns. Like the girls in the books I’ve read the night before, I had already been swept off my feet–and I didn’t even know the man’s name! Yet he’s already made me feel so…so helpless.

Peggy and Angelica had approached us when I came back to my senses. I didn’t notice, but it seemed that Eliza had also seen someone who made her heart skip a beat. Angelica smiled at the two of us and proclaimed, “Well, you two look like you’ve seen a ghost! And a handsome ghost at that.” I felt my face heat up, but Eliza solemnly stared at the eldest sister. She glanced at the man whom she had seen and turns to Angelica. “I need to talk to you.”

Angelica was dragged away by Eliza when I felt Peggy tap me on the shoulder. “What about you?” She says. “Who’s the lucky guy to catch your attention?”

I glare at her for a moment before fiddling with my (F/C) dress. “N-no one!” I whisper, fumbling over my words. “Aw, come on, (Y/N).” My sister says, punching me in the shoulder. “It doesn’t take a scholar to decipher the look you gave him just a while ago.”

I turn away from her, blushing, only to find myself eye-to-eye with the man I had just seen, him on the opposite side of the ballroom. He was wearing a blue outfit–his hair was tied up into a ponytail and when we locked eyes, his shining grin contrasted his dark skin.

“Ah,” Peggy said from beside me. “You fell for a revulotionary! Isn’t that great?” I looked at her disbelievingly. “No one said anything about falling for someone!” I scold. “But you admit you were staring at him?”

I stood there, speechless and my cheeks burning. “I…” I tried to speak, eyes furrowed in denial. I let out a sigh and hang my head in defeat. “You see that man with the ponytail?” I asked her, glancing at the man who was now talking to one of his friends. She nodded. I swallowd my nervousness as I confessed to her–“He’s mine.”

I wasn’t looking at Peggy, but I could already see her mouth curling upwards. “Oh, (Y/N)!” She said giddily, grabbing my hand. “You’ve got to get over there! He’s definitely stunning, worthy of your presence, and not to mention, his friend over there looks cute too.” Peggy grinned, but I shook my head.

“No!” I protested, shaking my head as I backed away from her. “There’s no way I’m going to make the same mistake last time. I don’t want to be looked down as the fumbling mess of Winter’s Ball!” Peggy huffed in defeat, folding her arms. “Fine.” She looked around, as if trying to think of something. Then, without warning, she snapped her fingers, yelling “Aha!” and before I could stop her, she was already running off to the other side of the ballroom where the man was.

I fiddled with my (H/C) hair and I shake my head at Peggy. I had no idea what she was doing, but it seemed that she was already talking to the handsome man. I could barely see (or hear) what they were saying, but I saw Peggy point at me and–and oh dear, those eyes fell upon me and I couldn’t help feel helpless all over again.


// “where are you taking me?” he asks. “i’m about to change your life.”


Marie-Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette” were the ten words that changed my life. When I had fully registered that it was his name, I blinked. The brown-eyed man laughed at me, which made my face flush. Oh, his laugh was as dazzling as his smile! “Call me Lafayette. You?”

“(Y-Y/N) Schuyler.” I stuttered out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Weakly, I raised my hand for him to shake. Instead, he took it and brought it up to his lips. “(Y/N),” Lafayette repeated. “A beautiful name for a beautiful madamoiselle.” Flustered, I mumbled a quick thank you. “May I inquire? Your last name…Schuyler?”

Peggy piped up from behind, “My sister, as well as Angelica’s and Eliza’s.”

I nodded, confirming her statement. “I’d like to thank you for your service,” I said, finally recognizing him from the revolutionary group. He laughed that beautiful laugh again, and it made my knees buckle. “If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it.” He said, bowing. He gave his hand to me, requesting a dance. I felt confident once again as I took his hand and curtsy. Peggy chuckled at the two of us and responds, “I’ll leave you to it!”


// “look into your eyes and the sky’s the limit,” i write, smiling at the paper as if it was him.


It was a week later after the ball, and although Gilbert (he hated it when I called him that, but that only made me persist on calling him so) was at war, it did not stop my determination to talk to him.

My dearest Gilbert,

It pains me that everyday I am separated from you. I wished you had stayed longer, but I know the people need you, and suffice to say I will wait for you. Please, stay alive, my dear. I will await for your voice and your touch. Do good, mon soldat garcon. Ton ange is waiting for you.

Every day, I would write to him, and every day, I would get letters from him. My life went from good to even better because of his words. “Mon cherie coeur,” he would call me. It gave me butterflies every time.

Peggy laughed at me as she saw me squeal because of Gilbert’s letters. “Aw, you’re so in love! Look at this, Angelica, Eliza! Our (Y/N)’s in love!” She yelled, laughing. I raise my eyebrow at her and retort, “Oh, and like you aren’t? Last time I checked, you were squealing over a letter Gilbert’s friend gave you. Hercules, was it?”

It was my turn to laugh as Peggy’s face turned to a rather lovely shade of red.


// i’m in my living room, stressing out. “hey,” he says with a smile, lacing his fingers through mine, “don’t worry. there’s nothing that my mind can’t do.”


I was panicking as I paced through the room. Fearing for the worst, I turned to see my dad with Lafayette as they chat. His face was cold and firm while Lafayette’s was cracked into a grin as he poured wine into their glasses. Peggy was with me, laughing at my hysteria. “Don’t worry, (Y/N)!” She chuckled. “You two will be alright. Votre soldat garcon is just asking for his blessing for your hand in marriage.” I looked at her, exasperated. “It’s not just a blessing for my hand in marriage, it’s the blessing for my hand in marriage!” I whisper-yelled, my hands flying to the air as I emphasized the importance of this event. “This is incredibly important to me, Peggy! I love Gilbert and–and if my father can’t see that, I don’t know what I would do! He’s my everything…my garcon, my soldat…my Lafayette.”

I gasped as I feel hands snaking up my waist. “Aw,” Gilbert purred in my ear as heat rose to my face. “Mon ange, I think you’re my everything too.”

“How much did you hear?” I whispered as he lets go, turning me so that I can face him. “Hmm…everything.” He said, a smirk on his face. I blushed even deeper, realizing he had just heard the feelings that I never had the courage to tell him about. “Come on, mon cherie. It’s okay. Don’t stress about it. We have to think about our impending status together.” He holds my hands as his brown eyes glisten, staring at me and boring into my soul. “I love you, alright? Nothing will change that. I will do anything to make your father say yes.” He gripped my hand tightly and I lean into him, gently putting my forehead to his.

“Shall we elope if he says no?” I suggested, whispering. “Hm, if it’s okay with you, mon ange.” He whispered back, enveloping me with his arms and pulling my body closer to his. We stayed that way, staring at each other, the other in our arms as if all was right in the world.

Maybe it was.

We were only interrupted by my father, who had coughed to get our attention. We untangled from each other, albeit reluctantly. “Lafayette.” He said, eyebrows furrowed and a serious look on his face. I gulped, every fiber of my being screaming in anticipation. I was waiting for the worst when–

“Be true, son.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth, I was back in Lafayette’s arms, hugging him and kissing him like tomorrow would never come. “On va se marier!” He said in between kisses. I laughed at him–he always reverted back to French, his native language, when he was excited or scared. I wasn’t sure which he was feeling. “Yes, I know,” I laughed at him, pecking a kiss on his nose. “We’re going to get married.”

My dad had left the room just a minute before with Peggy, and the Frenchman and I were alone in the living room. Despite his outburst just a moment ago, his eyes looked sad, which led to the question: “Are you okay?”

He nodded but said nothing. I saw him looking at the floor and I bring his chin up so that he would look at me. “Hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

Oui,” he whispered, “but I have to ask…why me?”

I let go of him for a moment, confused by his question. “Wha–what do you mean?”

“(Y/N),” he started, taking my hands. “My wealth is back in France in the hands of my dear friend Adrienne. I am also part of the war, mon cherie, I am afraid that I won’t be able to support you. I only leave you my heart and my words, though I will never understand why you accept them.”

I melted at his words. “Gil–,” I started, but he cut me off with a short kiss and continued.

“I graduated at 13 in a school for musketeers, mon cherie coeur, not a formal education, yet you and your family, bless your hearts, accept me. Peggy confides in me, and me to her; Angelica, like Hamilton, doesn’t stop talking about her passions; and Eliza is too sweet to me.”

I furrowed my eyebrows in assumption of that statement. I looked back to my sister’s room when I heard the beautiful sound of Lafayette’s laugh ring in the room. “Don’t stress about it, mon couer; you know I would never do such a thing.”

I sighed in relief and looked back up to see his brown eyes gazing lovingly at me. “We’ll get a little place in Harlem, enough for the two us, and we’ll figure this–us–out. I never have to be so lonely now: ever since my maman, papa et oncle died, I felt so heartbroken, but now, as long as I’m alive, (Y/N), I promise that you will never be lonely. You will never feel so–”

“Helpless.” I replied, tears forming in my eyes. “That’s why I chose you. You make me feel helpless.”


// “what do you think about your future with her, with the war and all?” one of his friends ask. he smiles and his eyes soften. “my life is gonna be fine, now that she’s in it.”


The wedding march plays in the background. With each step I take, I am one step closer to the this new life. To this new world where I am no longer alone. In a few steps, I will no longer be one soul, but a part of a whole.

Soon, I shall be one with Marie-Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, the man I fell in love with, and the man who I will continue to fall for.

Some nights will lead to regrets, like the ball that ended up not with me hand-in-hand with a suitor, but with a suitor hand-in-hand with a black eye. Aside from the carriage ride on the night that changed my life, I didn’t have much to regret.

I certainly don’t regret accepting the invitation to the Winter’s Ball. I absolutely don’t regret confessing my feelings to Peggy. I surely don’t regret meeting, falling in love with, and marrying Lafayette.

And I definitely don’t regret feeling helpless.

That one part in Irresistible

Me: hoe don’t do it
Patrick Stump: *speaks french*
Me: oh my gosh