cannot actually believe Julie wrote fan fiction, published said fan fiction on her very own Instagram on new years eve and then forced her actors to turn her fan fiction into an actual movie. she’s on a whole different level.
The freshly-paved walkway was free of litter and
grime. The shops and stands on either side did fair business, but the street
wasn’t crowded. Laughter, idle chatter, and the trills and growls of Pokémon
rang all around him, and one didn’t need to be a Connoisseur to detect the salt
in the air blown in from the Cape.
Cilan had visited many wonderful places since
arriving in Kanto, but Cerulean City was making a very favorable impression on
him. All the Pokémon he had never seen before were fascinating, and Cilan felt
himself nearly bursting as he picked up a hundred different flavors from the
creatures and their Trainers.
He sat down on a small bench near the street corner
to consult his map. Cerulean was hardly the largest city he’d ever visited, but
nothing other than the Pokémon Center was a familiar location to him yet. Two
young boys sat on the other end of the bench, bent over a teardrop-shaped badge
that the ruby-haired lad with the Oddish held in his hands.
“Pretty cool, huh?” he told his friend.
“It’s my third badge.”
“Awesome! I can’t believe you already beat
three Gym Leaders!” Cilan chuckled softly to himself. It was always
charming, the enthusiasm of beginners.
“Well, I beat two of them,” the badge
winner said, “but this badge wasn’t that hard. You could probably go to
the gym now and get one. She just gave it to me.”
The freshly-paved walkway had its first piece of
litter: Cilan’s crumpled map. Fists trembling, he bit his cheek to try and keep
his temper in check as he turned toward the boys.
“Young man,” he asked as calmly as he
could manage, “where is this city’s gym?”
reasons why i can’t get you off my mind:
ONE: you never fail to make me smile. when i see you, i can already feel the heat rising to my full cheeks as my lips begin to widen into a grin. simply hearing the first syllable of your name makes my body temperature increase and my heart begins to race. my smile is brighter than a million suns when i’m with you.
TWO: you’ve seen me at my absolute worst, yet you always stayed. i’ve cried at you, and i’ve cried with you, but you never leave. i have came home screaming at you and destroying everything in my path, yet it’s as if you’re a prisoner in my little world that voluntarily decides to stay. it makes me realize that you really are a special person considering that you have never betrayed me even with my hideous faults.
THREE: one of your most attractive traits is how honest you are. you call things the way you see it. if anyone is ever showing unnecessary hostility, you call them out for it. i always come to you when i need advice on something because i know for a fact that you will never sugarcoat anything for me. even if what you have to say is negative, you say it in the uttermost gorgeous way that makes your constructive responses sound like beautiful music to my ears.
FOUR: you care about me more than i care for myself. you always send me text messages that are reminding me to eat. when we see each other each morning you ask me if i had gotten enough sleep the night before. you run relaxing baths for me if you’ve seen that i have had a stressful day. if i look at you and my eyes aren’t sparkling with the fireworks of life like they usually do, you won’t stop talking to me until you figure out a way to make me feel better. sometimes when you know that’s there’s no real solution to fix the emotions that i’m having at the moment, you’ll just wrap me in your arms to the point where i can hear your heart pounding from your chest. just your presence alone lightens my mood and makes me feel radiant. you have this thing about you that’s so addicting and beautiful. there’s an abundance of traits about you that make you constantly on my mind. these were the first four, but trust me: there are plenty more.
Today is the first day of July Camp NaNoWriMo and I’m starting a new book about a jaded and disgraced FBI agent and a notorious car thief who have to team up to catch the thief’s ex-partner-in-crime. I’m super psyched because this is the first story I’ve written in a long time where I’m just like FUCK IT I’m gonna write what I want. And what I want is a SUPER MEGA GAY crime thriller y’all
MariChat Week 2 Day 3: Halloween. FEATURING: Lucky Us.
Chat Noir Boo Just now
Can someone tell me what the point of Halloween is? As if I don’t play enough dress up in my day to day life, now I’m stuck at a costume party.
No offense if you like it, though. It’s just not my thing.
Marinette yelped as a gauze-wrapped mummy bumped into her, almost causing her to drop her phone. She glared at them. “Excuse you,” she snapped, then hurried to catch up to Alya, who wore a witch’s hat and a warty nose that Marinette had customized just for her. The club’s Halloween party was in full swing, monsters and undead things of every sort dancing and drinking and flirting the night away. “How long do we have to be here again?”
Alya looped her arm through Marinette’s. “For as long as it takes you to go home with a handsome stranger.” She noticed her best friend’s sour expression and sighed. “Come on, you’ve been single for months. You can’t keep moping around in the bakery.”
Here’s the thing about reading a life-changing historical fiction novel. Once you read one, there’s no going back. You need to read another. And another. And another. That’s how we felt after reading SALT TO THE SEA (out in February!) a heart-wrenching story that pulls back the curtain on one of the greatest untold tragedies in history, so we decided to share the love and round up 8 reads that will get YOU hooked on historical fiction:
Four voices. Four secrets. The lives of four young people come together at the end of WWII, weaving a story that brings to light the greatest maritime disaster in the history of the world. It comes out February 2 but you can read the first chapters here!
Who knew medieval France was so…scary? Matchmaker and tavern-keeper Botille has a secret: she’s hiding a branded heretic, Dolssa, in their town of Bajas. But how long can they avoid the wrath of the Church? THE PASSION OF DOLSSA comes out April 12 but you can start reading it here!
Everything changed for 15-year-old Lina one night in 1941, when Soviet officers forced her family apart into Siberian work camps. A tale of survival, strength, and love that will make you want to hug the person next to you.
Two years ago, Judith returned to her village having been permanently mutilated. Now, the town is being attacked and she has to choose: continue to live in silence, or speak out and change the lives around her forever.
Sammy and Andy are headed on the Oregon Trail to the California gold rush…except Sammy and Andy are actually Samantha and Annamae, girls in disguise who find out there aren’t many places to hide on the open trail.
This is pretty long. Like over two pages. I went a tad overboard.
Still going strong on this month, and it’s nearly been a week.
Anyway, this is a reveal fic, hope you enjoy.
She really should have
left by now.
The sun was rising in
the distance, the streets slightly foggy from the winter weather, and Ladybug
wasn’t even home yet.
To top it all off it
was a school day today.
However, the look of
Chat snuggled up to her was too much when she had woken up, and she couldn’t bear
to leave him alone asleep.
“Chaton, time to wake
up,” Ladybug sang softly, playing with his hair, and tiding it up a little.
It was then, that it
As Chat stirred, everything
became clear. It was like a sunrise after an age of endless night. Her mind was
suddenly clear from the fog that hung around her vision.
Chat’s eyes blinked
open, showing the green, she was all too familiar with. Much more familiar with
than she had ever realised before.
“Uh, Bugaboo, you
okay? You aren’t mad I fell asleep, are you?” He asked, worried as Ladybug was
staring at him, getting pinker by the second.
It was then she
suddenly stood up, dusting off the dust that had not settled on her, and was
looking around almost frantically.
“N-no, I’m fine! I
mean, I’m fine but you’re great- I mean, it’s great you’re awake.” She rambled
on, “you’re awake which is good. It’s good that you’re awake, I mean you should
have slept at home I bet it’s not as nice out here as it is in your home.”
Chat laughed, and
rested his hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine Bugaboo, I enjoyed spending all
night with you, although, school is going to be a killer today.”
“Y-yeah, school, I’ll
see you there Adrien!” She quickly yo-yoed away before realising her mistake.
Her double mistake.
She had a) confessed
to knowing his secret identity. Which could mean anything, except it would
totally make her look like a stalker, and b) confessed that they both went to
the same school.
Ladybug was suddenly
Hopping down from her
balcony as Marinette, she started thinking.
“Oh god, what if he
doesn’t like me. He likes ladybug but I’m not Ladybug I’m Marinette. He’s going
to find out about my crush on him and then I’m doomed. I’ll probably get so
flustered and trip over something and accidentally kill someone. Tikki I can’t
go to school today! Or ever again!”
“Marinette, it’s okay.
You are Ladybug, Ladybug wouldn’t exist without you. I’m sure you’ll be okay.”
Tikki nuzzled into her face.
A few hours later,
Marinette made it into her classroom, surprisingly early, with two cups of
coffee in hand.
Even though it had
taken her forty-five minutes to choose her outfit.
“Hey girl, nice
outfit. Chat Noir inspired?” Alya checked out her green top, and black jeans.
“Wha-? Oh, yeah. Chat
Noir.” She sipped on her cup.
Alya chucked. “Didn’t
get much sleep last night?”
“Try none.” Another
“Woah girl, I know you’re
passionate about designing, but sometimes you’ve gotta take a break.”
It was then that
Adrien walked in, only today he had also gone for a change of outfits, sporting
instead a black shirt with a red with black spots pocket.
Marinette was about as
red as her Ladybug outfit.
“Agreste, loving the
new look.” Alya said, nudging Marinette, “right Mari?”
“Oh yeah, t-that’s a
great shirt, is it Ladybug inspired? It probably is that was a silly question.”
She rambled on again, then stopped herself with a big gulp of coffee
Alya didn’t seem to
notice she was acting a little weirder around Adrien.
Adrien did seem to
notice how much different she was acting, and her copious amounts of coffee.
The fog had lifted for
the both of them. At last, they saw the goddamn
Marinette.” He smiled at her.
The bell went, the
rest of the class that wasn’t already there came shuffling in.
A break came with mercy.
Alya had been bugging her non-stop about Ladybug and Chat Noir’s patrol last
night, which only made her more embarrassed and worried.
“Hey, uh, Marinette?
Can I talk to you for a minute?” Adrien asked.
“SURE.” Marinette’s anxiousness
had come bursting out of her, in the form of yelling. “Oh, s-sorry, I didn’t
mean to yell.”
An arm clutched hers. “All.
The. Deets. Now go!” Alya pushed her towards Adrien.
They both stood
slightly awkwardly in the corner, not really knowing what to say.
Marinette was the
first to speak up, with courage she didn’t think she possessed. “So Chaton, enjoy
your nap this morning?”
The result was two
people who looked like they could rival the Ladybug red.
“I-uh, so it is you.”
“Yep. Little old me.”
Marinette scratched the back of her neck. “I hope you’re not… disappointed.”
He looked shocked. “Disappointed?
I could never be disappointed in you, my lady!”
“Really?” She looked
up nervously. This had been part of the reason she hadn’t shown her identity.
She was waiting for the rejection, rejection which wasn’t coming.
“Never.” He grinned. “So,
while I’ve got you here, did you want to go on a date… sometime?”
Tonight, nine? I know a good place that sells ice-cream late…” She tempted.
“It’s a date then,” he
grabbed her hand as he always did as Chat, and kissed it. With his signature
grin, he looked into her eyes.
Hi all! I’ve updated part 8 in time for Valentine’s Day! I hope you guys like it! I try to capture a lot of frustration and psychological deterioration in this part (there will be so much more of that to come) and hopefully the suspense is done well and we can finally get the story going. I donot historical accuracy, in fact absolutely nothing is historically correct so people keep that in mind when you inbox me questions, haha.
Malachai watched as Caroline squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to keep
“I want you to say
the words,” she said.
“After everything you
and I have been through, my love, I need you to say it so I can understand.”
“It’s quite plainly
stated in the decree,” said Malachai quietly. “I have commanded that you and
all of your ladies vacate the premises. There is a castle in Kent you can
“All of my ladies but
one I presume,” she said. “You will move that putain into my quarters.”
“Do not speak of the
Lady Bonnie in that manner, Caroline.”
“Yes. Lady Bonnie.
I am the Queen of England, it is my right to be in these apartments.”
“Your right?” said
Malachai, his voice dangerously soft. “You have no rights unless I grant them.”
“You are my husband.”
“Then you should
honour me,” said Malachai. “And you will do so by leaving.”
Tears sprung to
Caroline’s eyes and Malachai sighed, shaking his head.
“Why are you being so
“It is not my
intention to be cruel, Caroline,” said Malachai. “I am in love with another
woman, I want to marry another woman, it isn’t anything I can help. I do not
“How can you say
true,” said Malachai severely. “You have to see that God has cursed this union.
We have no male issue.”
“If we tried—”
“We’ve been trying
for years!” said Malachai.
Caroline pressed her
lips together. “The Pope will not grant you a divorce.”
“That is no longer a
concern of mine,” said Malachai. “You have one week to leave and once you do,
you will refrain from referring to yourself as the Queen of England. You are
now the Duchess of Kent.”
Malachai turned on
his heel to walk out of the room but Caroline’s voice stopped him from pushing
open the door.
“What lengths will
you go to for this woman?” she said desperately. “You have broken my heart,
imprisoned some of your most trusted advisors, is it true Jeremiah was driven
mad in the Tower? That he committed suicide, dooming his soul to an eternity of
hell? Have you cut out the tongue of a man who refused to acknowledge the Lady
Bonnie? Tell me this is false gossip, Malachai, tell me there is a limit.”
Malachai turned his
head slightly. “I would burn this kingdom to the ground for her,” he said,
before walking out of the room, Caroline’s cries following him down the
Bonnie entered the ballroom
and the courtiers bowed as she passed, lowering their eyes and bending their
heads. She knew the deep purple of her dress offended some, shocked many —
royal colours on a woman not yet the Queen; an offence that regularly could and
would result in banishment from court. However, when Malachai told her she
would now be afforded all of the honours and rights attached to royalty, Bonnie
decided to embody her new privileges in a way that allowed the public to
understand her position.
They would sneer behind
closed doors she knew: scoff at her heritage, her legitimacy — sympathize
with Queen Caroline, the Queen of Queens, but publicly they would bow to her, publicly
they would afford her their utmost respect or else suffer the King’s
displeasure because what pleased the King was seeing Bonnie pleased and that
was all she cared about, all she ever cared to maintain. Most nights she lay
awake, riddled with worry, sweating with anxiety that one day he would not want
her, not love her, and if such a day ever came Bonnie was certain the grief
would cease her heart. She needed him to need her with every ounce of his
being, needed him to want her the way she wanted him — with a severity that
obscured any and all rationality. It was why she’d had a fit a week earlier.
She’d been on her way to
see Malachai when a servant had kept in step with her, carrying what appeared
to be white linen.
“Stop” she told the boy.
“What are these?”
“The King’s shirts, my
Lady,” he said. “Queen Caroline only just finished sewing them.”
The pain in her chest was
swift and abrupt. “She still makes his shirts?”
“Well … yes, my Lady …”
Bonnie pressed her lips
together. “Give them to me. I will see them to His Majesty.”
The servant hesitated for a
brief second and then handed over the shirts, bowing as he did. Bonnie forced a
smile and then took off swiftly down the hall to her own apartments rather than
Malachai’s. Her hands trembled with the linen and once she was behind the
safety of closed doors, she started to tear each one apart, screaming with
every rip, crying with every scream.
“How could he hurt me like
this?” Rip. “Why would he do this? I hate him!” Rip. Rip. RIP. “I hate him for doing this to me! Twisting me around
like this! I HATE HER! THAT WENCH!”RIIIIIIIIIIP.
Even when the shirts were
scraps of fabric on the table, on the chair, on the floor, Bonnie took a knife
and dug the tip of the blade into the linen, haphazardly moving her hand so
that she scratched surfaces, tearing the linen into ragged pieces. Quickly, she
dashed the knife to the side and howled, clenching her hair in her hands. She
needed to talk to him, demand an explanation but not like this, not when she
was this undone. But she had to talk to someone. Someone who would understand.
Not Damon. Not Papa. Elena.
Bonnie rushed out of her
corridor, pushing through doors to adjoining rooms until she reached Elena’s
quarters. She was about to walk into the room when she heard a voice. A man’s
voice. Bonnie moved closer to the door.
“My Lady, I …” A nervous
chuckle. It was the knight. Stefan.
“Yes?” said Elena.
“May I kiss you?”
A giggle. Silence. After a
few moments Bonnie opened the door, catching Stefan and Elena in an embrace,
chaste and nervous and passionate. Quickly they pulled apart and Stefan rose to
his feet, bowing immediately. “My Lady Bonnie,” he said. “Forgive me. This was
my doing, I had insisted on a private audience with your sister, she had tried
to stop —”
“No!” Elena stood up as
well. “No, I asked him to —”
Bonnie waved her hands
impatiently. “I do not care!” she said. “Stefan, please leave us I need to talk
to my sister.”
“Of course.” He bowed once
more and then turned to Elena, trying to contain a smile as he bent his head in
deference and then left the apartments.
“Before you start, I know
you told me he was beneath us but Bonnie, I —”
“Did you not hear me say that I do not care?”
eyes widened in slight alarm. She regarded Bonnie. “What has happened to you?”
She glanced at Bonnie’s hands and then hurried toward her to examine them more
closely. “Your palms are all cut.”
“Shirts,” said Bonnie.
“Caroline still makes his shirts.”
“YES, THE KING’S! Who else
would I be talking about?”
“They’re only shirts,
“No, no, they’re not only
shirts, they’re intimacy! It’s a ritual, it’s something private between them
that I can’t touch!”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,
honestly,” said Elena. “The King loves you.”
“Are you certain?” said
Bonnie. “What if he’s tired of me? What if he goes back to her?”
“He has done so much for
you, for Papa, for Damon, for this family. He expresses his affection for you
publicly, people are required to bow to you, Bonnie, he is giving you
“Except a marriage!”
“His divorce will be
granted in time.”
“It has been a year and a
“And if he did not truly
love you he would have stopped all of this by now, he would not make new
decrees, he would not sleep separate from the Queen, he would not bestow you
with jewels and gifts, he is challenging the Pope Himself for you, I do not
understand your agitation.”
“But don’t you?” said Bonnie.
“When I’m with him it’s impossible for me to think, it’s impossible for me to breathe, he’s everywhere in me and it’s
…” Bonnie shook her head. “It’s awful. It’s so utterly awful but it’s also…”
She exhaled heavily. “Wonderful. Transcendental. And then … and then when we’re
parted from one another I feel like I’ll cease to exist from this world without
him and I … I hate him for it, dear sister, for making me want him so much that
his absence makes me feel like I will truly die but what’s worse is that I hate
him even more for not being at my side. So any private gesture, any private
moment, private routine that he has with a woman who isn’t me especially if
that woman is Caroline, it drives me mad simply thinking about it. Don’t you
understand that? Isn’t that what you have with Stefan, why you continue seeing
him despite my express warning against it?”
Elena stayed quiet for a
moment. “I feel like I can finally breathe whenever Stefan is around me. He
makes me glad to be alive, like every moment on this earth is worth
remembering.” She furrowed her eyebrows and then searched Bonnie’s expression.
“What you described … is that really how the King makes you feel?”
“Yes,” said Bonnie blandly.
“It sounds … forgive me,
sister, because I love you with all my heart and I would never want to upset
you but it sounds as if he consumes you and should he continue … it’s as if …
he would perhaps destroy you?”
“Yes,” said Bonnie again.
“And I yearn for it with all my heart and I can’t stop even when I try my
hardest. I had not expected this when I agreed to …” She sighed, rubbing her
eyes with her fingers. “I must go, excuse me.”
“No, you can’t leave like
this, you’re out of sorts.”
“I must see him.”
left Elena’s quarters and walked swiftly to Malachai’s. She ranted at him for
what felt like hours before silencing herself and standing still in front of
him. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“This is why you’re upset?”
he’d said. “Over shirts?”
“Do not patronize me, Malachai. It isn’t over between you two.”
“Because of shirts?”
“Because you two still have
a routine!” Bonnie yelled. “Am I meant to share you with her?”
“Of course not, they’re
only shirts! I hadn’t thought anything of it, that’s how inconsequential they
are. I do have a kingdom to run, I do have other priorities, important
priorities that require my attention more than who makes my shirts! It’s
“It’s your intimacy with
her,” she said. “It’s fine then, if we’re allowed to have intimacies with other
people perhaps I should create some of my own, there are some new faces at
court. New, handsome, wealthy faces.”
expression sharpened, his eyes darkened with a dangerous intensity. “What did I
say about mentioning other men?”
“What you said is relevant.”
“Do not test me, Bonnie.”
“Do not disregard me. Are you mine or are you hers?”
“I’m yours, you know that.”
“Prove it,” said Bonnie.
Malachai stared at her. “I
will take care of everything.”
Bonnie gave her head a
slight nod. “Your Majesty.” She turned to walk out of the room but Malachai
caught her by the waist and brought her to him, her back pressed against his
front. Bonnie held her breath as he slipped his hand around her middle, his
fingers caressing her through the fabric of her dress. He nuzzled her behind
the ear, his lips grazing her neck and she arched her back, sighing heavily
“I burn for you,” he
Bonnie exhaled. “Your
“You harden me to
distraction,” he breathed.
She felt his readiness against
her and it spawned an ache between her legs that throbbed. “Malachai, please…”
He skated the tip of his tongue along the curve
of her neck and Bonnie closed her eyes; she put her hand on his, clenching his
fingers as he massaged her waist. “Tell me,” he said. “Do you? Burn for me?”
“Yes,” Bonnie gasped. “You know I do.”
And then, ignoring the desire raging throughout
her body, she pulled away from. “Take care of it,” she said breathlessly before
stumbling out of the room.
And now he was. Taking care
of it. He was removing Caroline from the palace while Bonnie attended a feast held
in her honour. She took note of the guests, of the ones who appeared to embrace
the new order and of those who only tolerated her presence. She would know what
enemies she’d made.
Damon stood in a corner and watched Bonnie stroll into the ballroom. He
couldn’t take his eyes off her, off the regality she exuded in her stance, in
her dress; it angered him. She did not appear to be a woman playing a part, she
appeared to be a taken woman, a woman who had given herself over, drowning in
the affection of the King. That was not what was supposed to happen. He
wondered if she’d slept with the King already and the curiosity made him narrow
his eyes. It was impossible to explain to even himself — her dalliances with
Lorenzo irritated him but did not bother him because she hadn’t wanted him, she
had wanted to amuse herself but she wanted Malachai, it was plain and intense
in its sincerity, and Damon hadn’t wanted Bonnie to want anyone, he had wanted
her forever removed. Like him. He would have her in their shared disdain for
others, for each other, for the frivolity of love. And now here she was. In
Damon turned to his side
and saw that Alaric had joined him. “Uncle,” he said. “How was your trip
“Productive,” said Alaric.
“Our diplomatic efforts across Europe are going well. How are things here? Have
you managed to secure our divorce?”
Damon sighed. “I am close
“That isn’t what I want to
hear!” said Alaric sharply.
“Uncle, Bonnie has been
given every privilege of the Queen, she even wears the Queen’s jewels. The King
has begun to prepare for her coronation, we simply need more time to—”
“Unofficial. All of it. Our
status is precarious, Damon, without the security of Bonnie being named Queen.
If all of our efforts fail because you were unable to deliver on a simple task,
you will call me Uncle no more, you understand?”
Damon swallowed hard. “I
will speak to my dear cousin, see if she can illuminate the issue any further.”
Bonnie braced herself as
Damon walked toward her. When he was a couple of feet away he bowed. “Lady
Bonnie,” he said. “A dance?”
She smiled tightly.
“Certainly dear cousin.”
Damon took Bonnie’s hand
and they walked onto the middle of the floor. He looked at Lorenzo to start
playing a tune and for a brief moment Lorenzo’s expression was darkened with
what looked like longing and jealousy but when Bonnie turned her head in his
direction, he lowered his gaze and began playing, his wooden finger awkwardly
clutching the lute. Bonnie and Damon began to dance.
“I hardly see you anymore,
dear cousin,” said Damon.
“Your responsibilities keep
you busy,” said Bonnie.
“As do yours,” said Bonnie.
He leaned in close as they twirled. “For that is what this is, Bonnie. Your
Bonnie pushed away from
Damon and spun, seeing the inquisitive eyes of the courtiers on her. Damon
glided toward her.
“You think I’m unaware of
my responsibility?” Bonnie whispered.
“I think you were selfish
enough to fall in love,” said Damon. “This is to elevate our family not for you
to find a husband.”
“Finding a husband, finding
this husband is how I elevate this
family,” said Bonnie through clenched teeth.
“But that isn’t your prime concern
“Everything will go
according to plan as long as it remains one of my concerns, Damon.”
“If you ruin this for us
because you choose to follow your heart and —”
“Ruin this for us?” Bonnie
repeated. “You are in charge of securing His Majesty’s divorce, where is it?
What have you done? Eighteen months I
have been waiting for you to deliver him to me, waiting to bear his sons,
waiting to share his bed and you have failed me consistently.”
“Bonnie, listen to
yourself, you sound like a fool, how can you possibly expect me to believe that
you have taken our family’s status seriously when all you want is the man?”
“As we speak, he is
removing Caroline from the premises,” said Bonnie. “He is planning my
coronation and we are getting married without the Pope’s permission, His
Majesty has decided to break from the sea of Rome.”
Damon stared at her. “That
will have repercussions.”
“And he has decided to face
them in the name of marrying me. If you could simply secure an annulment or a
divorce then we wouldn’t have to go to such lengths, alas you’re utterly
useless. Do not lecture me on responsibility, Damon, I am doing what you
“Because you love him.”
“And if that is the
Bonnie made to spin outward
once more but Damon held hr to him, gripping her wrist painfully tight. “Have
you bedded him?”
“Let me go.”
“Answer the question.”
“What business is it of
“It is entirely my
business,” said Damon. He pierced his eyes into hers, his eyebrows slightly
furrowed. Her refusal to answer the question agitated him with a worry that was
unfamiliar to him, that sickened him, that made him hate her. “Why must you
madden me so? Answer me.”
Bonnie opened her mouth to
speak but the music stopped playing; there was a sudden tension in the room, a
shiver rippled throughout the crowd and then everyone was bowing. Damon
released Bonnie from his grasp and turned around to see Malachai taking slow,
deliberate steps toward them. Immediately, Damon bowed and Bonnie curtseyed. Malachai stood in front of Damon who remained
bowed. He regarded the top of his black-haired head and was stricken with a
violent desire to see his head removed from his body.
“Leave us,” said Malachai. “I
believe there are some matters of state that require your attention.”
“Majesty,” said Damon as he
swiftly left the dance floor.
Malachai made a gesture
with his hand that let Lorenzo know he could continue playing the music and
chatter slowly began to fill the room again. Malachai put his fingers beneath
Bonnie’s chin and gently lifted her head to him, allowing her to stand back up.
Neither of them said anything as he gazed at her, the corners of his mouth
taut, his eyes blazing. He touched her wrist, the one Damon had held onto, and
raised it to him, tracing his finger over her veins. Bonnie’s lips parted but she
said nothing; there was a danger to Malachai’s expression, a tumultuous anger
that robbed her of speech. Abruptly, he crossed the dance floor to the ballroom’s
other exit, prompting the courtiers to bow once more. Bonnie chased after him
out into the corridor.
He whirled around on her,
pushing her against the wall, pinning her wrists above her head. “Your cousin
is too familiar with you.”
“He’s my family.”
“He oversteps!” Malachai
roared. “I should have him beheaded.”
“To what end?”
“To my own satisfaction,”
he said bitterly. His face contorted. “You let him touch you.”
Bonnie’s eyes sharpened and
their greenness intensified to a vividness that weakened Malachai. “How could
you possibly be angry with me?” she said indignantly. “He is like a son to my
father and I—”
“I hate that his hands were
on you. All I want is to claim you with mine and you won’t allow—” Malachai
gritted his teeth. He released Bonnie’s hands as he ran one through his hair. “You
are torturing me with your absence,
it’s killing me, Bonnie, and now you’re attempting to deny me the right to punish
the man who touched you?”
“I have no right to harm Caroline
though seeing her punished for standing in my way of you would bring me nothing
but unrestrained joy, why should you be afforded what I’m denied?”
Malachai shouted. “Because any man’s hand should be removed for
touching the wife of the King!”
“But I am not your wife!”
They glared at each other,
their chests heaving and faces flushed. Malachai grabbed Bonnie by the wrist
and stormed down the hall.
“Where are you taking me?”
Malachai didn’t respond but
continued to walk.
“Where are you going?”
Bonnie nearly tripped over her feet. “Malachai, what are you doing?”
“Making you my wife!” he yelled.
Well if you read the title then you know what it’s time for the only thing I’m not giving up in my life. Anyway, on to this slightly angsty story. Nothing too bad, fear not.
“Chat you have to stop throwing yourself into the middle of a fight like that!” Ladybug scolded, resting atop a random building one night after fighting a particularly vicious akuma.
“I’m sorry Ladybug, but you could have died. I can’t have you dying, you’re Paris’ number one hero!” He hugged her close. It had been particularly terrifying for him that day, and he was just happy that she was safe. “Besides, your miraculous cure can heal everything.”
Ladybug pushed him away, still upset that he was risking his life like that. She wasn’t even in that much danger. No more than usual.
“You can’t always rely on my miraculous cure. I know for a fact that you go home sometimes with bruises. If you got hurt even worse than you do now, I might not be able to reverse all of it.”
“I’m sorry bugaboo…” He sat down next to her and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just didn’t want you getting hurt.”
“We’re going to get hurt though, Chat.” She said, almost painfully. “That’s what we’re here to do, protect people, and when you protect people you get hurt.”
There was a momentary pause.
“Look, Chat, just don’t go all ride or die all the time, okay?”
“Well, my lady you should know I won’t make promises I can’t keep.” He joked.
“Chat I’m being serious.” Ladybug sighed. “Just… stay safe okay? I don’t want anything happening to you.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, looking over the skyline.
Up a little late, but a little longer than what I normally post. Enjoy!
It was official, Ladybug and Chat Noir could no longer work together.
It had happened unexpectedly, no civilian nor even blogger extraordinaire could figure out what had gotten them so out of sync.
The next akuma attack had then battered, bruised and dead tired, all because they simply couldn’t co-operate.
Alya, devoted Ladyblogger, decided to take matters into her own hands.
Surprisingly enough, even after their patrols of the city, they still hung out afterword’s, however, it was much shorter and mainly comprised of bickering. Alya, having found them that night, snuck up on them, and was surprised by what she heard.
“I still I have absolutely no idea how you can hate camembert!” Ladybug shouted, tears rolling down her eyes.
“Because it is possibly the worst thing on the face of the Earth! Ladybug I don’t understand how you can like the stuff! I only have the stuff cause my kwami eats it! It’s disgusting!” Chat Noir looked very annoyed.
Of all the things Alya thought could have happened, the two hero’s petty argument on camembert was not high on her list. Hell, it didn’t even cross her mind.
“You’re fighting over cheese?!” Alya almost screeched in laughter, giving away her hiding spot.
“A-Alya!” Chat Noir and Ladybug said together, then glaring at the other.
“I thought that one of you had done something serious, but cheese?” She was crying from laughter, clutching her stomach. “You two are just too much.”
After a couple minutes of Alya’s laughter, and Ladybug and Chat Noir’s staring context, she spoke up again.
“So how did this all start anyway?”
“Well, since this cat over here always smells like cheese I thought it would be nice if I brought some cheese bread over after patrol. He didn’t appreciate it very much.” Ladybug crossed her arms and face away from him.
“Bugaboo, how was I supposed to feel, it had camembert in it!” Chat whined.
“Who cares what was in it, I made it, I thought you’d appreciate that.” She replied softly.
“Aw, Ladybug I’m sorry if I’d known that it’d upset you I wouldn’t have been so mean about it.” He hugged her from behind, both forgetting Alya was there.
“Camembert still sucks though.” Chat said.
Ladybug rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say Chaton.”
“So, does this mean your lover’s spat is over?” Asked Alya, grinning. She was met with two very red superheroes. She could almost see the similarities between her two friend Adrien and Marinette.
The Noughts and Crosses series, by Malorie Blackman
These books provide a brilliant insight into how racism permeates society, on an individual and structural level. They’re also, if memory serves, a completely gripping story. Having enjoyed them as a child, I jumped at the chance to read and review them for Glasgow Women’s Library.
I have a lot of poison concerning this show, because I actually watched every episode of every season. First with curiosity cause I read the books, secondly with interest because it was a show with a lot of potential, then out of HATE. Because it was like watching a slow motion car accident. You knew they fucked up, you knew it was bad for you, but you were still live blogging, retweeting and sending the authors, (especially Julie Plec) your regards. I never insulted this woman, because I didn’t need to, but I’m sure as hell insulted her writing, because I couldn’t believe that in 2010s years, you could create a show THIS problematic EVEN in the damn CW.
Why TVD was so problematic? Why a lot of fans felt betrayed and I thought watching a fucking brainwashing attempts on young teenagers every fucking Fridays? Here’s why.
- Bonnie Bennett, the black woman who had it all but didn’t have the chance to show it.
Listen, there’s a lot of heated conversation whit black activists, and even others normal people with enough distance to see how the way to treat this character was very problematic.
Bonnie was never treated like a decent human being. She was always dying for her friends who didn’t care. She was a witch with big ass powers but never had the chance to really improve them, she also never had a meaningful contact with other witches who would actually help her, because witches were depicted like independent beings. Bonnie had this spirit, this strength but could never rely on anyone but Damon (but this is another debate).
The big problem was that Bonnie was a main character. She appeared in the first episode like the main character’s best friend. She was supposed to be the Stiles of her Scott, but here’s the main difference between Stiles and Bonnie.
Bonnie is black.
Bonnie was the only character of color in the main cast, Michael Trevino was a hidden gem and she was the only visible representant of POC.
It wasn’t enough to see her die every season, when she was in the land of the livings she was invisible.
We never knew anything about her dreams, what was she studying? (seriously she should have been the one to be a doctor…) When she was thinking about the future, what would she see?
Her father was MURDERED by someone with the same face of her best friend’s ex boyfriend’s face and she has NOT ANY MELTDOWN?
And don’t get me started with the rest of her family.
Her love relationships were forced and out of nowhere. Any interesting love relationship resulting on a durable conflict were shut down by Julie Plec on obvious disregard for this character.
-> Bamon? Nope.
-> Klonnie? Nope. Klaroline
-> Bonkai? (first ugh then…) Nope.
-> Kennett? (Kol+Bonnie) Nope. but Kolvina it’s good! Why? Because Davina is not black.
Listen, I am black. I was raised in a family who values education and self-respect. But when I was in high school, I was the only black girl in the class. I was representing despite myself an entire community. I was supposed to be selfless, tough, strong, never crying, never falling apart. I was the secondary character of my own life. I was the one taking care of others. I was the one collecting the phone numbers FOR my friends. I was a bodyguard. Literally.
TVD broke my heart. Because when I watched it I felt I was back in square one. That no one would love me for who I am, that I needed to SETTLE FOR LESS.
Because it’s basically what happened to Bonnie who excuse me to say that, settled for LESS.
She settled for Jeremy, she settled for Enzo. Because she couldn’t have Damon, she couldn’t have dreams, she couldn’t have a future, she couldn’t have respect.
But Caroline… Don’t you think there’s a problem, when Caroline was a bigger secondary character compared to Bonnie?
Caroline basically fell for EVERY (except Jeremy) man in the show, and every man (even ENZO!) fell for her at one moment.
I’m crying as I’m writing these lines. If I had watched TVD during my high school years (because I’d just graduated one season 1 was released), it would have destroy my self-confidence as a woman of color.
I loved TVD. really. I loved your mythology, your characters were so interesting and full of potential. But they could have been better.
Representation matters in the writers room for this very reason. To make sure that everyone deserves a character at its best to deliver a positive impact on others.
Fiction is about life. Life is inspired by fiction.
“Come on, Sammy! Hurry up!” You exclaimed, bouncing impatiently. You stood next to him as he inserted the key into the Impala’s trunk. It was the Fourth of July and Dean had snuck the two of you out to a field to shoot some fireworks he had bought. Your dad had left you with the Winchester brothers as he and the boys’ father were working a case together. They wouldn’t be back for another week or so, and John had instructed Dean to keep you and Sammy inside when the two of you weren’t at school. You had overheard some classmates discussing shooting some fireworks, so naturally you had begged Dean to purchase some. He had complied and taken you and Sammy to an open field to shoot the fireworks. All 9 years of your life, your dad had never once taken you to shoot or let alone watch fireworks. Same went with Sam and Dean. So you were all understandably excited to finally be able to launch some fireworks like all the other kids.
Sam finally popped open the trunk and lifted up the box of fireworks. You tiptoed and shut the trunk, chasing after him as he ran into the open field. Dean chuckled and jogged to keep up with the two of you. Sam set the box down, pulling out three tube fireworks. He handed one to you, then ran back to Dean, who was rummaging in his pockets.
“Got your lighter?” Sam asked, looking up at his brother.
“Yup.” Dean nodded, holding it up so Sam could see. “Show Y/N how to hold the firework first. I don’t think she knows how.”
Sam nodded, then turned to you. “Just hold it like this, okay?” He instructed, demonstrating how to hold the firework.
You adjusted your hand slightly. “Like that?”
“Uh-huh.” Sam smiled. Being a few years older than you placed him in a big brother spot and he absolutely loved it. “Dean’s gonna set the top on fire and the firework will shoot out. Just point it at the sky and hold it tight, okay?” You nodded and he turned back to Dean. “We’re good.”
Dean held out his lighter and flicked it on. Sam helped you get the top lit, then all three of you held the tubes out. The fireworks shot out into the sky, illuminating the night. You grinned happily as the fireworks continued to ignite the sky.
Sam turned to Dean, a big smile on his face. “Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks Dean, this is great.” He stepped forward and embraced his brother. Dean looked down at him and smiled, happy that Sam was happy. He grunted slightly as you ran into him from the side, also wrapping your small arms around him.
“Yeah Dean,” You said, looking up at him. “This is awesome.”
He grinned and ruffled your hair, your toothy grin making him chuckle. You dropped your arms and tugged at Sam’s sleeve. “Come on, come on! Let’s light some more!”
‘Alright, geez!“ Sam laughed, releasing his embrace. Dean held out his lighter and he took it, turning to you and yelling: "Last one there’s a rotten egg!” You both took off, racing to the box of remaining fireworks. Naturally, he let you win, and allowed you to light up half of the fireworks while he lit the other half.
“Fire in the hole!” Sam cried out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to where Dean was standing. The sky was suddenly lit up into vibrant colors. The three of you stood there and watched the vivacious display, smiles across your faces. Sam suddenly turned to you and grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the center where all the sparks where falling. You pulled back at first, afraid, but followed Sam at Dean’s reassuring nod.
The view from the center was even more amazing. The sparks seemed like tiny bright stars falling all around you. You and Sam screamed and laughed joyfully, chasing each other.
Meanwhile, Dean stood rooted in the same spot, a small smile on his face as he observed you and Sammy. It was moments like these that truly made him happy. School, hunting, girls…they didn’t even come close to the happiness he experienced when the two of you wore exuberant smiles. Although the hunter’s life wasn’t ideal for a child, Dean would do everything he could to give you and Sammy more moments like this one.