You never thought anyone would be able to convert you into a doting, docile housewife; you were more at your ease romping about in an entirely unladylike fashion, soiling your dresses and horrifying stuffy old relations, scaring off potential suitors and making the best of friends with people who you probably oughtn’t to. You longed to remain your wild, free self, never to be tied down and forced to change by something as perfectly horrid as a husband. It isn’t that you’re not interested in men or in forming a relationship, it’s just that you don’t want one that will force you to change.
So naturally, you meet your match at a winter’s ball thrown by the family of a treasured friend (one of very few proper ones you’ve managed to keep). These events are particularly dangerous for you, as you never seem to enjoy them as you should; you dance without abandon, never waiting to be asked by a gentleman for none ever dare come to you, given how thoroughly your reputation has been spread about. There is one single person of high society unafraid to associate with you, your darling Peggy; a model lady who never frolics about in the dusty streets or talks of things no little woman above girlhood would dare to. She is your perfect opposite, and you adore her. It is here you find yourself on this night, laughing with your friend at the flirtations passing between Elizabeth Schuyler and Alexander Hamilton (the two of you losing interest when the cocky man leads Eliza into a dance).
You look to your friend, and, depositing your half-empty glass on a nearby table, turn on your heel to face the youngest of the Schuyler sisters.
“Miss, if I may?” You bow exaggeratedly low, dropping your voice lower, offering your hand which she takes with a laugh. The two of you set off in a fast-paced dance of your own design (most similar to a jig or reel, you would suppose) sailing between proper couples with girlish giggles and great fun, all without suspecting any eyes would be hooked on your silly game.
So, it is almost startling when a finger taps your shoulder; you and Peggy both look behind you to find a tall man with smiling eyes looking down at you intently. He only looks away from you to address your partner, inquiring if she would mind terribly if he steals you away for a song or two. She looks at you, then back to him.
“Not at all, Marquis. She’s all yours.”
He maintains a polite distance while she answers your helpless look with a soft squeeze to your hand, and a whisper in your ear of, “Please do try to remember your manners, but do not worry yourself too much; he is the Marquis de Lafayette, a friend of Hamilton’s. Any friend of his cannot be too snobbish.” Her words comfort you some as she abandons you with the gentleman who now takes your hand, placing the other at the small of your back; it is not that you’re nervous at his beauty or the charm of his smile, you simply do not have the proper experience to know what is quite expected of you in this most peculiar situation.
You spend moments floundering for a conversation before settling on, “My name is [y/n].”
“And mine is too long to burden you with; you may call me Lafayette, if you please. It’s what my friends call me, anyways.”
“It is nice to meet you, Lafayette.” You dip your head respectfully, the title Marquis weighing heavily over you.
He seems to understand because his next words are of reassurance. “There is no need to be so formal, mademoiselle, French parties are not so stiff as these. If I’m honest, I am quite out of my element here.” He pauses. “And if I dare to be bold, I may observe that you seem to be as well, demoiselle. I could not help but notice you flying about the room with young Peggy. Perhaps you would be more comfortable if we picked up the pace?”
Lafayette’s eyes shine merrily when you melt into the faster steps he leads you into, all tension slipping away. If this Frenchman doesn’t mind sticking out like a sore thumb then you have no qualms against behaving as you normally do.
The men who know you watch in distaste at this newcomer helping you disturb the order of things. (It could be that, but readers, I think it is jealousy over a man not too shy or wrapped up in the proper way of things to have fun with you: a strange but otherwise charming and lovely woman.) But just like you didn’t feel Lafayette’s gaze on you, you notice none of the men’s aimed your way now. You don’t hear the amused comments from the other two of Hamilton’s friends. You simply feel Lafayette’s hand covering yours, his guidance through the steps of songs you never cared to learn before. One, two, three, one, two, three, you spin around the ballroom countless times, Lafayette’s mixed English and French reaching your ears better than the music, more beautifully.
“Is there any reason why you were dancing with a friend and not a suitor? A woman with such a pretty face as yours must have men lining up to court you, no?”
You snort incredulously. “Don’t mock me, sir, surely you’ve heard the gossip.”
“Ah, heard it? It is possible. But understanding is different. My english is not so good, you see.”
He gives you a dashing smile surely meant to disarm but you merely squint up at his face, before deciding, “That is what you would like people to think, I am sure, Monsieur Marquis.”
The smile turns slightly more conspiratorial and he leans down, lips barely grazing your cheek so he might whisper in your ear, “You have found me out, Demoiselle. Please, do not tell my secret.”
“You are safe with me.”
You know somewhere deep inside that you don’t ever want to stop dancing, but at the surface of your mind you are scared. You just met this man tonight. One hour ago? Two? No mere man has held you captive in such a way before and it’s wrong, you know it must be. You’ve never felt this way before. With a churn in your stomach you realize you like it. You like him.
“Lafayette, could we please… stop for a moment? I feel too warm. I… I think my corset is too tight.” It’s not a total lie. You’re struggling to breathe.
The man’s smile disappears and his brow furrows as he bends to look at you. “Oui, oui, we can stop. You look flushed, [y/n]. Let me bring you outside, the cold air may do you good.”
He steers you through the throng of people, opening a pair of doors leading to the garden. The cold air hits you like something tangible and you can feel your nerves settling, your mind becoming more rational and clear.
Just because you and everyone else thought you wouldn’t even consider falling in love doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Who cares if it’s happening fast? You have never been a predictable woman – who says you have to start now? You take a slow breath in. Close your eyes. Exhale.
You open your eyes. While you had been making yourself crazy with overthinking, he’s brought you to a secluded part of the garden where the candlelight can barely reach. Lafayette is seated on a bench in front of you, his fingers gingerly holding yours. He has been waiting patiently for a sign that you are okay; he looks expectantly up at you.
“[y/n].” His voice is soft, hesitant. You sit beside him.
“I’m sorry if I worried you. Something came over me; I just had to get away from the noise for a spell. I’m alright now, I assure you.”
“Mon dieu, I thought for a moment you were going to run. You had a caged look in your eyes.”
He looks relieved, and you squeeze his hand. He squeezes back. Something clicks.
A spur-of-the-moment fit of honesty takes over you, and you admit in a rush, “I have never felt with anyone else how I have felt with you tonight, Lafayette.”
“Hopefully in a good way, demoiselle?”
Hesitating only a second, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. His stubble scratches your lips pleasantly. “I cannot say there is any negative connotation, sir. Now, shall we continue to dance?”
You do. In fact, the two of you are among some of the last to finally tear away from the dance floor and say goodnight to your gracious hosts. Peggy gives you a look, to which you elegantly stick out your tongue (behind Gilbert’s back, of course).
When your carriage pulls up and you turn to bid the Marquis goodnight, he stops you short with three little words:
Back in 2012 when I was first getting into hs fandom, those big lyricstucks were starting to get super popular and I tried to make one too, for erifef. I never finished it, but I still really like some of the panels, so I thought i should at least upload for completion.
This image is actually pretty old. It’s one of the first images I finished up, but I wasn’t satisfied with the final results of how I made the background/finishing touches, so I never uploaded it. I’m pretty satisfied now and consider it a finished piece. It’s basically an original character based on myself. I tend to find it difficult to find characters to just draw even when random, so it’s something I can always go back to and make something nice of it without it being fanart.
‘’ResetFrisk was a project I had in mind for like 6 months, I wrote them a backstory, a story, but I was hesitant to even make the comic with so many AU’S out there. I still think it’s not an interesting AU and I haven’t uploaded the next part yet -sketch is there but I have to fix so many details-, and therefore, making an ask seemed even stupid but my friends encouraged me to start the comic and a blog for this special and weird Frisk (?).
Wellp, and why am I writing and uploading my old and first drawings about ResetFrisk? -you can notice some differences since they were a work in progress’’
THANK YOU GUYS! I never EVER thought I would reach this number. So I wanted to celebrate shoowing you ResetFrisk first designs -which are not that different from the one they have now, but still-
I’m still thinking about doing something else for you, guys. I haven’t come up with something yet but if you do have an idea, please, tell me. I LOVE READING YOUR ASK AND MESSAGES, and yes, I read the tags, the comments, everything(?), maybe a drawing contest, ideas, man, I don’t even know, I will think about it but you’re free to send suggestions.
I disappeared off to a sideblog for a fandom I was getting back into and didn’t feel like keeping up with this blog because of laziness reasons (it’s easier to leave mobile set to one blog rather than switching back and forth) but also because I got such a good response to the content I put out over there? I mean, I had a pretty good response here but it was never…it was always the same 3 or 4 people when I have a whole rack of followers. So I dunno, I just got discouraged from saying much of anything.
But yeah I’m still here I just haven’t been drawing warcraft or anything because I didn’t feel like there was a point. I should post some of the old crap I have that I didn’t upload yet, though.
what she means:
phil lester just uploaded a video of himself reacting to his old videos and it made me realize how much he's grown and how much the quality of his videos has increased. more importantly however i realized that he's been on youtube for so long and he truly is one of the most creative, underappreciated youtubers there is, who's never complained when people didn't credit him for his ideas and even though he has his own radio show he still chooses to make videos for us