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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

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hey Kip! I’m sending asks into different writer’s askboxes, inquiring about cool themes/development facts/stuff the author wants to share about their personal favorite work of their own. What’s yours? :)

Ok so this ask is old and when I first got it I was like “dang I don’t really have a lot to talk about, what should I talk about I could those revalink headcanons the Kip Cut that turned into a working fic uhh hmm maybe I’ll just make something new to talk about real quick” and then I did and now there is a 12+ chapter Revalink fic in my drafts and I’m gonna talk about that now, whoopsie doopsie [click "j" to skip]

aHEM, OK so allow me to break out the primary school white board because yeah, I have a lot of thoughts and the oxford comma has not yet made it’s home into my brain. oh and spoilers for paraphrase. for both all of Chapter one and future events in later chapters, but it’s really nothing you couldn’t surmise from the AO3 tags

so I really wanted to tell the story of Revali and Link learning and struggling to love again after the less-than-fortunate events of Botw, but I wanted a...how you say...fresher, approach on the subject? Like I know we always say that fanfic writers writing the same tropes and stories time and time again is good because we eat that shit up--but at the same time I had asian parenting as was told never to half ass anything ever, no matter what. So now I'm gay and extra and have depression maybe and oh would you look at that @motherhyrule has dropped a beautiful revalink prompt right into my lap

Great so now that we have, that, I shall take you on the step by step process on how to make a :sparkles: story. So step one is to spend at least five to eleven business days for your white board to dismantle your genre and themes and work them around your character arcs. Luckily I have prepared one ahead of time

s*breaks out those laser pointers that uni professors use* So let's start with defining genre. As define because I HATE you, fuck you. I want you to suffer and writhe on the ground, motherfucker. How dare you think that I would give you nothing but pure predictable fluff, fuck you and yours

is the set of expectations that your audience has when consuming a piece of media

And the great thing about fanfiction is that unlike movies or book where the genres are more vague like, "oh it's a noir mystery genre. so there's a crime, maybe a murder, and a detective and a criminal." or "oh it's a teen romance. so there's some white people and a morally questionable six-pack 18 year old love interest that will be painted as desirable for some reason" BUT with fanfiction HALF of the work out the window, because as soon as you see those #revalink #aro sidon #zelpha #revali is an idiot and #found family tags you already know what's up.

Now what's so great about genre and expectation? Well the fun thing about it is that

I will use it to fucking break you.

... ... ...

<3 For example! <3

In Chapter 1: Holes, you already expect there to be revalink, you already expect them to be soulmates with the soulmarks and there's angst and yadayada ya. Revali and Link have to match because thatttss what this is all about, this is about them! This is about cute, little soulmarks and romantic words!

But whoooopsie doopsie [disney channel laugh track plays] they DON'T match anymore! Link's got a different mark! The number one rule of this entire genre has been broken whoooooooooooooooops. *ba dum tiss*

You might notice with a lot of my writing that I do this a lot, this whole..."oop but there's one little thing that's different." TebaSaki sick fic? Ok cool, but what if Teba burns an irreplaceable relic of the Rito champion to fight a wizzrobe first to characterize why his dumbass clicks with Saki. Mipha deciding to persue Link? Ok what if she chases after a dragon to externalize this conflict as she pierces it's flesh for a scale. Link fighting a Lynel? Ok but what if it's actually a sidlink angst fic in disguise and it's also world building on how Link deals with the bloodmoon that erases all of his efforts which is sort of similar to how his existence was erased from Hyrule 100 years ago mwaahahaha! Ok now that I say this outloud I think I just have a pattern of using fight scenes to externalize character growth. I like fight scenes...anyways.

I think another great thing about the realm of fanfiction is that with the tagging system, I can basically use a chekhov's gun sort of deal, without doing any writing. You know I'm gonna use that gun marked "soulmates" but you don't know when I'm gonna shoot it, and you SURE as hell don't know how.

And huzzah! One of the main points of conflict both drives the tension between Revali and Link, solidifies the unique genre and setting of this world, while also creating a new mystery that will carry over for the next few chapters.

Is Revali right in that Link's rebirth makes him destined for someone new now? What will Link do with the information that his soulmark has changed? Why did it change? Did Revali's change as well? How does anything fucking work right now?

And sure, you might be able to tell where things will end with them, but you sure as fuck will not know how because I HATE you. Fuck you. I want you to suffer and writhe on the ground, motherfucker. How dare you think that I would give you nothing but pure predictable fluff. I am not your goddamn fairy godmother, I will do as I fucking please. You will suffer as you fucking deserve, fuck you and your little tiny--

Oh! But you might have noticed on my little planning whiteboard thing that there was a little T-Chart! For Revali and Link! That's because the next important thing besides plot (and in a lot of cases, including this one, it's argued to be even MORE important than plot) is

~CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT~

[to the tune of that history of the world video on youtube]

So yes, it's a little T-Chart outlining their character views in relation to the themes. And the great thing about themes is that they're not something you can necessarily predict in the same way you can with the genre and plot.

But now see, I'm very lazy so I'm just gonna plagiarize @hyrule-kingdom-updates thingy [that you should read btw] because they said my point quite clear enough

Now I don't really need to care about those points about bond and relationships and being understood, because I'm dealing with already established canon characters. I'm not some NERD who dabbles with entire casts of ocs who even cares about ocs not me that's for sure ahaahahaahahahahahaahahahahahAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH *cries in my orphaned WTTU fic* AHAHAHA*sobs*DONT FUCKING LOOK AT ME THAT WAY I SWEAR--

/j I love ocs

But the points I do wanna focus on is the idea that characters provide new perspectives on the theme, and that characters growth can be tracked based on their wants, lies, and needs.

So see, themes can be predicted the same as genre/plot because while you can have the same fanfic plots and tropes, theme will always vary!

Sometimes it's a journey of selfworth with Revali! Sometimes it's an exploration of trauma with Link. Sometimes it's about how you deal with the vulnerabilities of love with Mipha. Sometimes there's straight up NOOOO theme, and people just be fucking, and kissing, and baking, and having a good time. And that is totally fine too!

But I'm not a fucking coward.

I'm gonna weave in themes with my plot, because I fucking can.

I'm not a weakling like you.

Do you hear me, 2019 Kip? Do you hear me Demmers? Do you hear me Quill? I'm coming for your ass. You think you're so great, but I'm coming for you. Rest assured that your graves will be as deep as your sculptured pride--

Heeeere is that T-Chart again, plus more!

yyyyyYou might notice that Revali and Link are quite parallel, to paraphrase. Ayoooo, see what I did there? *dabs* I'm a genius. Anywho

They both start off the same way: 100 years ago they were in love and happy. Basically the equivalent of childish naivety. For the first time in their lives, life is whimsical and charming, and they make each other happy. In fact, it's almost a flaw with how they perceive this happiness. But don't worry! It doesn't last long!

You know what happens.

I think the chart is pretty self explanatory. Revali builds walls fast enough to give a republican a wet dream. Meanwhile Link makes every aromantic in the chat groan with his doubled down sentiments in the idea that his chances of being truly happy again are gone.

Now, I can't exactly describe the full on process of the inbetweens, and where Revali and Link are gonna go from here, because...you have to read it for yourself! Heehee...but something I did think was fun was how these character views on the themes are revealed. Because you'll notice that, I never give exposition. Ever.

Ok well, let me rephrase that. I never give exposition scenes. I will never give you a big LOTR fancy wizard scene explaining the ins and outs of a character's question or the world's magic or whatever. I'm a very impatient Kip, and I value efficiency. Nonono, it's all about multi tasking, baby!

Chapter 1: Holes is divided into three parts.

Post 100 Years - Medoh (Establishes Ghost Rev/Bonk Head Link's view)

100 Years Ago - Flight Range (Establishes old Revalink views)

Post 100 years - Mark (Develops Ghost Rev/Bonk Head Link's view in contrast to who they once were)

I think the way that you structure flashbacks is incredible vital, as it's a very quick way to characterize people without having them say stuff like "I used to be like you, until I took an arrow to the knee" or whatever.

And with the main structure of the chapters and the fic as a whole is focus on their characters, that means I can hide whatever other stuff I want in those scenes, becuase you're too busy absorbing the fun character stuff to realizing I'm giving you boring exposition. Like for example:

Post 100 Years - Medoh and Mark

Foreshadowing for the end of the fic

Set up connection to Medoh with Revali

Link has defeated Windblight

Link has been visiting Revali every night for the past few days

Link has already met Kass and presumably Teba

Link doesn't have the Mastersword

Revali's Gale is still an ability that needs master and practice on Link's end

And that's just some of the stuff.

And see, the only reason I can efficiently give all of this information regarding character, and even exposition, is because of the theme. The themes make everything relevant, and everything circles and encompasses one another, so there's absolutely no wasted space. I mean don't even get me started on how it's gonna be to characterize the other characters around this

I don't wanna talk about the other characters too much either because that's spoilers, but you can probably take a gandar based on my notes.

And oh my god this is just on the theme of the faults that come with "soulmates" and "true love" and all that, and how even magical destined relationships still require work and effort, and that no one thing or person solves all your problems. And that's not even TOUCHING the shit on trauma and scars. I didn't think it was even possible for me to talk about botw without touching on that, ha. Ah well, I've been talking for too long.

Revalink has a lot o' writing potential so das pretty cool yeah, I am excite

#revalink #paraphrase revalink #writing

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marvellouslymadmim · 3 years ago

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Hey! Aspiring fanfic writer here; I was wondering if you could talk a bit about your writing/editing process and how long it all takes.

Thanks!

Welp, roughly the same extremely long amount of time it takes to actually answer an ask, tbh 🙃

So...I only know how my brain works, and I can only tell you what works for me might not work for you, and that's OK. I'm breaking into two separate bits, because I almost never do writing and editing at the same time.

And as far as a timeline, honestly it just depends. On life factors, what my hormones are doing at the time (jfc like the week before my period, I have zero creativity, motivation, or attention span), if I'm having trouble with a particular scene, if I'm getting consistent positive feedback (yes, I can totally admit that I write faster when I know a particular reviewer is following along with every update), etc.

WRITING:

First, you gotta just...be fixated, I guess. Particularly if it's an AU, I sit with it for a long time before I ever write a word. I go over scenes, think about how the world changes, what stays the same, what *has* to stay the same to keep the characters true to their canon personalities. I sit with the characters for a long time, too--not just the main characters, but the supporting cast, too. In order to predict someone's future, you have to know their past. Most of our present actions are actually reactions to past events, when you think about it. The better you know your version of the character, the easier every other aspect of writing will be. I don't know how it is for other people, but I don't ever "feel" like I'm writing. I feel like I'm "witnessing", and the characters are simply doing whatever they wish. (***this is gonna be a thing during the editing process, too, so hang on to that)

Then once I have a general idea, I choose a title. Generally, I do not even start a word document until I have a proper title to put on it. The title is part of the theme and aesthetic to me, and it grounds me in the overall arc.

Once that's done, it's time for outlining. I generally wait until I feel this weird almost tingling in my left arm (weirder still bc I'm right handed) and I'm practically vibrating with a need to WRITE THIS STORY NOW. Then I put on some Bear McCreary (honestly, any videogame soundtrack will do, as they are literally designed to help you maintain focus and keep pace) and fucking go to town. For me, it helps to do this with pen and paper, so that I can go back up and squiggle little notes in the margin, rearrange the order, etc, far faster than I could on a computer.

Important note: the outline is not the end-all be-all. Some things don't make it to the final print. Some minor storylines get tossed or characters simply...take a different path than I expect. I will continue re-writing and updating the outline as I go along. On average, I usually have 5-8 outlines per story, and they're often 3-10 pages long. I also have a posted outline, which is a log of all the scenes that did make it to the final product.

Then, it's the actual writing, at long last. I have found that I write best at the start of my day, before the noise and static of daily life comes in. So I wake up around 5am and spend 90minutes writing before beginning my workday routine. I have the Word app on my phone and may continue adding bits in throughout the day at work, if I get a moment. However, after 5pm my brain is usually fried and no more creativity happens. On weekends, I try to have one morning where I "sleep in" til 6am, and then write until at least 10am, sometimes 2pm, if I can get away with it.

The hardest part still is knowing when to transition and when to skip to the next chapter/scene/whatever. This is like...zero percent helpful, but I liken it to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart's definition of pornography: "I know it when I see it." It may seem like a scene is circling, and sometimes it means you gotta leave the room a bit earlier bc the scene has already served its purpose. Other times, it means ya gotta stay with it a bit longer, because there's something the character is trying to say. Give them patience, and give yourself patience, too. Explore the scene and its dynamics. You won't know til you know and even then, sometimes you won't be entirely sure. That's ok, too. Part of the process. Remember editing will happen and you can decide then (hell, you can literally re-edit after it's been published, I've done that before too and added a note on the next chapter for any readers who might have read the first version 🤷🏻‍♀️ not ideal but still functional).

EDITING:

I do simple edits (spelling, grammar, etc) just about every morning as I reread what I wrote the day before, which is a refresher course for the day's writing session. But big "real" editing generally doesn't happen until right before posting.

Now, here's the ***issue from writing: sometimes, something just "doesn't work" in a scene. Again, you'll know it when you see it. The words a character is saying feels clunky. The pacing feels off. Something just...ain't right. More often than not, it means either I haven't truly sat with a character long enough to know their true motivations/backstory, or I am not giving characters the proper time/space/impediment to make the actions or say the things they're currently making/saying. I'm trying to force the flow, rather than letting it ebb and breathe when it needs to.

Absolute ProTip: You spent HOURS writing this scene. It's got some REALLY GOOD moments and lines in it. It doesn't work but you can't just delete it. It's your LIFE. I struggle with this A LOT, and I have found a solution: create a second "outtakes" document to cut and paste those scenes into. Sometimes I still keep moments or bits of dialog. Sometimes I later use bits in a later scene. Sometimes I never look at it again but I still feel secure in knowing that if I wanted to go back and use the original scene instead, I totally can. I don't think I've actually ever gone back to the original, tbh, but it reduced my anxiety about deleting the scene and starting over.

So back to the scene that doesn't work. I take it apart, figure out *at what exact point* it stops working, then work back up a few lines to see where the shift actually begins. More often than not, it's because I'm having characters express their feelings in ways they actually wouldn't. (people very very very rarely actually say what they're thinking/feeling, and you have to relay it in other ways). So I have to keep the internal monologue of what they're actually feeling/thinking, while figuring out how that actually translates via tone, body language, and what they do and don't say.

The "something ain't working stage" can take LITERAL WEEKS. I sometimes have to walk away for awhile, or tackle it only on days when I know I have hours upon hours to truly work on it. I keep circling back around, and eventually, the knot works itself out. Persistence, and insistence that "good enough" isn't actually good enough, are key. (this is why you have to fixated on the story you want to tell--because some days, it's going to take every ounce of that obsession to keep you going and keep you on the track of telling the story you wanted to tell, rather than settling or switching to an easier tack)

Sometimes, editing is a breeze. I don't change much, I may go a little more into the character's inner world here or there. Once you've been doing this for awhile, you'll just know when a story hits all its marks--and you'll also know when it's not, when it could be more or do more, and you can figure out how to get it there. There isn't a precise formula for it, it's more like cooking without an actual recipe to follow--a dash here, a bit there, you'll know it when you taste it.

And I'll leave you with this unsolicited bit: just write. Write often, write about everything, write what makes YOU passionate and happy, and absolutely write for yourself. Edit the fuck out of it, if you need to. Get a beta reader, if you need to. Get someone to just bounce ideas off, if you need to. And don't post it until you're truly ready and it's something you genuinely want to share. If someone gives constructive criticism, take in on the chin and move on (keep the notes, if you think they're valid, and toss em if you don't--you'll never be everyone's style of writer, so know that sometimes, people just won't be the target audience). Know that you'll grow and you'll learn and you'll find your own voice and like any skill, you'll develop a second nature about it--all those parts where I say "you'll know it when you see it" or "you'll feel it" absolutely come from spending a literal lifetime (28 years) writing stories, and thirteen years of writing fanfic in particular. It's ok if you don't see it or feel it right away. It takes practice. And you will have an audience at every skill level, no matter what (finding that audience? different story altogether...).

All totaled, this process can take anywhere from 3months to over a year. Stories are like children, I've found: they each develop at their own pace, and some may need more time and assistance than others. But they're still pretty wonderful. (except the bratty stories. they're the worst 🙄)

#thanks anon!#asks #writing asks #writing reference #i guess?#i hope it helps!!#fic writing

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440mxs-wife · 4 years ago

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The Hunter’s Princess Chapter 1: Another Dimension

Pairing: Dean x OFC Kira (eventual), Prince!Dean x OFC Lady Kira. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Prince!Sam Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Gabriel, King!John, Queen!Mary, Lucifer and assorted minor characters.

Chapter 1 Word Count: 3800

Warnings: Mention of parents’ death, a little angst, mostly fluff. Each chapter will have individual warnings as needed.

A/N: This is from some material that’s been rattling around in my head from another project that changed direction. Couldn’t let all this content go to waste, though, so here it is. It’s a work-in-progress, and I will try and update as regularly as I can. If you want to be tagged in this series, send me a message!

Thank you and happy reading!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Kira Thomas was bored.

There hadn't been a hunt in over a month and she was starting to get cabin fever. Dean was giving the Impala a tune-up, while Sam was catching up on his serial-killer documentaries. Rowena had stopped by to research something in the Book of the Damned for some crazy spell she was working on. Castiel was off who-knew-where, doing who-knew-what, and Kira didn't want to bother him just because she was bored.

Gonna have to find something to do, she thought to herself.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira Thomas had been in the hunting life with the Winchesters for as long as she could remember. Her parents, James and Ava, were among the top hunters for their generation, but semi-retired so that they could start a family.

Once Kira reached a certain age, her parents resumed their hunting career. That meant Kira was often left in the care of their friend, Bobby Singer, owner and operator of the local scrapyard. Bobby was a gruff old man and mumbled "idjits" a lot, but one look at Kira's sweet face and he melted.

Another hunter, John Winchester, also sometimes had to leave his sons, Sam and Dean, in Bobby's care. John was on the trail to hunt down the monster that killed his wife and the mother of his sons. This was how Dean met Kira.

At first, Dean didn't want to have anything to do with Kira. She was three years younger than he was, and only one year older than his brother, Sam. She followed Dean nearly everywhere, wanting to do whatever it was he was doing. If he was running errands for Bobby, Kira wanted to tag along.

When Dean started weapons training to prepare him for going on hunts, Kira was right there, training along with Dean. More than a few times, Bobby was able to give Dean a batch of grief because Kira had performed better than he did. Those were the days that Dean tended to give Kira the silent treatment. Until she figured out how to bake a pie, that is, then all was usually forgiven.

The day his dad took him and Sam out on the road with him, Dean was heartbroken. It meant that he wouldn't see Kira every day and didn't know when he would again. Kira didn't know it, but Dean's feelings for her had grown beyond that of her best friend. And Dean had no idea that Kira had begun to realize that her feelings for him had shifted to more-than-best-friend territory.

After Bobby died, Kira settled into her own room at the bunker, where she continued to hunt with Sam, Dean and now Castiel. There were so many times with Dean and Kira, the line between friendship and more was very nearly crossed. Drunken near-confessions of love, shameless but harmless flirting and lingering touches all had a way of building up. Everyone was telling the two of them to quit tiptoeing around each other and take the leap of faith, but neither of them could.

Until something happened to force the issue.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira wandered the halls of the bunker, and for some reason stopped in front of Room #17. It was the room occupied by boxes of her parents' possessions. Boxes that were full of the things left to her after their house was sold. She had never had the time or courage to go through the boxes, but for some reason, today seemed like the day to do it. Kira took a deep breath, turned the knob on Room #17 and flipped on the lights.

Dean had finished giving the Impala a tune-up and had returned to the inside of the bunker to get himself cleaned up. He noticed how quiet it was and thought it was odd that Kira didn't have any music playing. Dean decided to shower up then go looking for Kira to see if she would want to watch a movie together. Maybe then he'd have the courage to tell her how he felt about her.

When he was properly cleaned up, Dean went from room to room, trying to find Kira. He didn't find her in her bedroom, the kitchen or the firing range. As he walked back to his room, he heard soft laughter and occasional sniffles coming from Room #17. Dean poked his head in and a smile broke out across his face.

"Hiya, sweetheart," he said softly, not wanting to startle Kira.

Kira hastily wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath before looking up. "Hey, Dean. Everything okay?" she asked.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Whatcha got going on here, darlin'?" he inquired.

"Well, seems like everyone had something to do today, except me. I started wandering the halls and ended up here. It occurred to me that I haven't gone through any of these boxes of my parents' stuff since they died. Figured it was about time I did," Kira finished.

"There's no reason to push yourself if you're not emotionally up for it. But, if you're set on doing this, I'm here for you," Dean remarked.

"If you're all done with what you had going on, then yeah, I'd love the company," Kira replied with a smile.

Dean and Kira each opened a box and started looking through them. Most of what they found was paperwork, like Kira's old school report cards, along with some photographs. A couple of the boxes had some old lore books. Dean placed those boxes by the door and made a mental note to take them out to the library later.

They were down to the last two boxes, which contained items found in Kira's parents' bedroom. The really personal stuff, like her dad's cologne and her mom's hairbrush. Towards the bottom, Kira found her mom's jewelry box. She knew her mom had some heirloom jewelry, passed down from each generation of mothers to daughters.

One piece in particular caught her eye, and that was her mother's locket. She carefully drew it out of the box and dangled it in front of her face, then fastened it around her neck.

"Whatcha got there, sweetheart?" Dean asked.

"It's my mom's locket," she whispered. Kira popped open the locket to reveal her tiny kindergarten photo kept within. "I never asked what she kept inside, and she never told me. Just that it would be passed down to me when it was time," Kira recalled. For some reason, the locket started to glow in her hand. "Dean...." she said as she held it up for him to see.

"What's--I think you'd better put that back in the box, honey, nice and slow," Dean remarked with more calm in his voice than he currently felt.

"Dean! I can't take it off," Kira exclaimed as she started to phase in and out of sight.

From the library, Rowena's head shot up and her eyes glowed purple, a sign that she was in the presence of a powerful magic. "KIRA!!" Rowena shouted as she ran down the hall to Room #17. She got to the doorway in time to chant something in Latin, then Kira completely disappeared.

"KIRA!! NOOOOO!!" Dean roared as Rowena slumped to the floor.

Sam came rushing around the corner. "What the hell just happened?!?" he thundered then looked around the room. "Where's Kira?" he asked.

"I don't know!" Dean growled. "One minute, we're going through these boxes of her parents' stuff, and she came across her mom's jewelry box. The next minute, her mom's locket is glowing around her neck and she disappeared! Oh, but not before Rowena here cast some spell that I have no idea what it does," Dean retorted.

Rowena slowly rose up from the floor. "It was a tracking spell. Your wee Kira is fine....for the moment. Her mother's locket is a powerful charmed object that's been passed down from one generation to the next. It allows the wearer to move between dimensions, which is what each mother is supposed to tell her daughter. Unfortunately, Kira's mother died before she could explain," she shook her head sadly.

"So this whole multiverse is an actual thing? She can travel to other places, other timelines?" Sam asks.

"Look, who cares, we need to get Kira back. Rowena, do whatever hoodoo voodoo you have to do to get her back," Dean ordered. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to call Cas to see if he could somehow help. He had no idea what it was going to take to get Kira back....assuming they even could do so.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira tilted the mug as she held it under the tap and began to fill it with the frothy amber liquid. She looked around to see if she could figure out who the drink belonged to. Her eyes settled on the outstretched hand of a dark-haired man with squinty dark eyes. He paid for his beer, grumbled his thanks and returned to his table.

With no customers to serve for the moment, Kira reviewed her surroundings. It was a decent sized pub, with four taps for beer, a jug of wine for the more adventurous and a bottle of what looked like scotch. There were seven seats at the beautiful mahogany bar, with several tables on the main floor. Two men were occupied by a dart board in the corner, while four others were huddled around a billiards table.

A woman with curly strawberry blond hair came up to the bar carrying a tray with empty glasses. "Oy, Kira, those blokes in the corner were getting kind of fresh. One of them tried to back me into a corner and pinch me backside!" she exclaimed.

Kira looked at the two men playing darts. For some reason, one of them looked familiar, like she'd dealt with him before. "Don't worry, Ella, I'll take care of it," Kira promised, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kira walked out from behind the bar and over to the men in the corner. Loudly clearing her throat, she demanded, "Excuse me, which one of you has been harassing Ella?"

The shorter of the two men sauntered over to me and stood so close that Kira could smell the number of drinks he'd had. "Why 'ello, there! Fancy a throw at the board, Love?" he held out the dart with one hand while he tried to pinch Kira's backside with the other.

Since he was so close, Kira grabbed his ear and pulled upward. "I believe I told you that if you misbehave again in my establishment, you would be kicked out. You tried to pinch Ella's and my backsides tonight. That counts as misbehaving, so you are leaving," Kira said as she dragged him towards the door. He tried to squirm out of her grasp, but she held tight and kept moving until she was able to throw him out of her pub.

His friend started to intervene, but Kira cut him off with a death look. "Unless you want a piece of this, I suggest you back off," she remarked ominously. He had the good sense to return his attention to the dart board. After throwing out the offending individual, Kira dusted off her hands on her apron and returned to her place behind the bar.

As the night wore on, Kira busied herself cleaning the glassware and wiping down the bar as customers started to filter out. Just before closing, the door burst open and a woman with long wavy red hair sauntered in. She was wearing a dark-colored cloak, a long pink dress and carried a large satchel. She eased up onto a barstool near where Kira was working and said, "Kira, dear, we need to talk."

"Rowena," Kira whispered.

"How in the name of holy water did you get here, Rowena?" she hissed.

"Just before you disappeared, I cast a tracking spell on you, dearie," she replied. "How much do you remember before you ended up here of all places?" she asked.

"Last thing I remember is Dean and I going through some boxes of my parents' stuff. I came across my mom's jewelry box and found this locket," Kira lifted it to show Rowena. "It started to glow, I called for Dean, then I ended up here," she finished.

"Well, let's start with the basics. What do we know about this place?" Rowena asked.

"From what I can tell, I'm the owner of this pub. I have three servers that work for me, Ella, Jolene and Miranda. Apparently I've kept my hunting skills, because I just threw out a drunk moron just by holding on to his ear. He was pinching backsides without permission," Kira remarked.

As Kira finished bringing Rowena up to date, two new customers walked in. One was taller than the other, with chestnut hair and hazel colored eyes. The other wasn't as tall, but not short by any means. He had dark blond-ish hair with bright green eyes.

"We're almost closed up, gentlemen, but you have time for one or two drinks before last call. What'll it be?" Kira asked.

"Well, what do you have for beer?" Mr. Green Eyes inquired.

"That depends. We have four of them on tap, and it depends on whether you like it light and crisp, or dark and chewy," Kira quipped.

"Hmm, interesting description, I like it," he continued. "Surprise me, as long as it's not the dark and chewy one," he grinned.

"Can do, and for you sir?" she asked Mr. Hazel Eyes.

"I'll go with scotch, neat," he replied.

"On the way, thank you sir," Kira acknowledged.

Kira pulled the tap to fill a mug of beer for Mr. Green Eyes, and when that was done, she poured the two fingers of scotch for Mr. Hazel Eyes. Kira placed the drinks in front of them, and they paid the tab for the drinks.

"Excuse me, Kira?" Kira looked and Rowena was trying to get her attention. "Might I have a word with you, dearie?" Rowena asked.

Kira walked down to where Rowena was sitting and asked her what she needed. "Those two men? They are not what they seem," she said mysteriously.

Kira looked at them and asked, "What are you talking about? Come on, Rowena, they're a couple of guys who stopped by for a drink late one night," she remarked.

"There's something familiar about them. Can't quite put my finger on it, but it's like they're men of great importance," Rowena insisted.

"Rowena, they look like two regular guys. A little family resemblance, brothers or cousins maybe, but normal, thirsty guys," Kira observed. Wait a minute....Nah, it couldn't be.

Kira was finishing up her chat with Rowena when she heard, "Oy, Lady Kira?" Jolene motioned with her eyes that Mr. Green Eyes needed a refill on his beer. Then she took the next round of drinks out to a table.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kira could see Mr. Green Eyes had nearly finished his beer. After he drained the last drop she took his mug, dropped it in the dishwater and picked up a fresh one. "Same selection?" Kira asked.

"Depends. Which one was that?" he asked with a grin.

"I started you off slow. That one was the light and crisp. I'll pour you the next one, and maybe I'll let you name it," she teased.

"You're on, Lady Kira," he smirked.

A sharp pain pierced Kira's head, momentarily clouding her vision. She grabbed the edge of the bar to keep her balance. Suddenly it dawned on her who these men were. It was Sam and Dean, but also....not them. Like Rowena said, something familiar about them, but they're more than just hunters in this dimension.

Kira poured his beer, but before handing it to him, she leaned in so her face was a few inches from his. "Listen. We keep the 'Lady' part of my name a secret. If everyone knew who I really was, I couldn't do half the things I do for these townfolk. I don't want recognition for any of what I do. I try to make their lives a little easier with some charity while letting them keep a bit of their pride," she finished. As Kira plunked the beer down on the bar, some of it sloshed over the edge, hopefully conveying her annoyance.

Rowena flagged Kira down again. "Now do you believe me, darlin'? I saw that look on your face. You know that's Sam and Dean, but they're different here than they are at home," she remarked.

"Yes, I'm with you now. They're still hunters, but that's not all they are. Like they have a more important 'day job'," Kira mused. "Although Dean in any dimension is still going to be a smart ass from time to time. Likewise, Sam is still the more cautious of the two," she replied with a soft laugh.

At that moment, the door opened and a man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes stepped in. "Sirs? I think it's time we set out for home," the man said.

"Just finishing up one for the road, Castiel," Dean replied. He drained the last of the beer from his mug and tapped on the glass to get Kira's attention. She looked up from the mug she was drying off and tilted her head. "Thank you for the hospitality this evening. Hope to see you again," he said as he winked at her.

"Safe travels, gentlemen. May your journey home be swift and free from incident," Kira remarked as they departed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kira looked around to see that the rest of her customers had also made their way home, or at least out of the pub. Jolene, Miranda and Ella picked up any remaining dishes and brought them up to the bar. While Kira washed the glassware, Miranda cleaned tables while Jolene swept the floor. Ella took care of the restocking duties, checking the taps and bringing up another bottle of scotch.

When all closing duties were done, everyone filed out the back door and went their separate ways, except Rowena stayed with Kira. They walked towards a large carriage house not far from the pub. Kira pushed open the heavy, decorative oak door and was immediately greeted by her house manager, Alfred. "Good evening, Lady Kira. I see you've brought a guest with you. Will she be staying long?" he asked.

"Good evening, Alfred. May I present Lady Rowena of the Scottish Highlands. She will be staying with us for an undetermined amount of time. Please see her to one of the open rooms upstairs, while I check in with the rest of the staff," Kira requested.

"Very well, Lady Kira," Alfred replied. To Rowena, he said, "Should you be in need of refreshment or anything else, please be sure to ring, madam."

"Thank you, dear. I am a wee bit tired, so if you could please show me to my room. Lady Kira, I shall see you in the morning," Rowena promised. Kira nodded in agreement then headed off towards the kitchen.

After a quick meeting with the staff, Kira learned that a morning supply run would be needed to replenish some of the items in the pantry. It was in need of coffee, flour, sugar, most of the basics, including fresh vegetables. Kira provided her head chef, Stefan, with the funds necessary to purchase what was needed at the town market in the morning.

The head housekeeper, Coraline, notified Kira that sheets had been freshly laundered. There also were plenty of clean towels in the wardrobe in each room. Once she got the full report, Kira trudged upstairs to her room. She didn't even bother to get dressed in her nightclothes. She pulled back the blankets and crawled beneath them. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell into a deep sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the three men approached their destination, they were greeted by Collins, the head of the stables. He was a short, white-haired man who had worked for the family for many years. He remembered when the figures approaching on horseback had been mischievous young boys. He felt privileged to see them grow up into the fine young men they were today.

"You boys had better get on up to the main hall. Your parents have been looking for you, and they are not too pleased at how late you've been out," he gently chided.

The men dismounted from their horses, so that Collins and one of the other stablehands, George, could lead them to their stalls. As they walked from the stables to the main hall, they thought back to events of the past evening.

They were called in to take out a vampire nest in one of the eastern provinces. There were only supposed to be seven or eight vamps, which was certainly manageable for the three of them. Turns out there were more like twelve, which made things a little more difficult, but not impossible.

They approached the main hall where their parents were waiting. The green-eyed man walked up to his mother and knelt before her, touching the backs of her outstretched hands to his forehead. He repeated the same gesture with his father, as did the man with hazel eyes. The blue-eyed man knelt before them, but crossed his chest with his right arm, placing his right fist above his heart.

Their father looked sternly at his sons as he settled back in his seat. "Do you mind telling me what the crown princes of this land have been out doing at all hours of the night?" he asked. "Your mother was worried sick about you, pacing the floor until word arrived that you had come home!"

The hazel-eyed man spoke first. "Father, we received word of an attack in one of the eastern provinces. On our way back, we happened to stop by a pub owned by a woman named Kira. Had a couple of drinks, then Castiel told us it was time to go back, so we left," he explained.

"Is this true? Dean?" his father, King John asked.

"Yes, Father, Samuel is correct. The threat in the eastern province has been neutralized. For now, anyway. I had a couple of beers in the pub and was enjoying some nice conversation with the owner before Castiel pulled us away," he grumbled.

"If you had just told someone where you were going, I--we wouldn't have worried so much," explained his mother, Queen Mary. "Your father and I have a matter of great importance, which we would like to discuss with you. Castiel, would you please excuse us?" she asked.

Part 2 here!

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Tags: @janicho88 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @ellewritesfix05 @supernatural-jackles

#dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester #spn #au supernatural #The Hunter's Princess series

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 3 years ago

Text

Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 2: Réponses Et Plus De Questions

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): threat, swearing

Word Count: 6.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, wasteland, baby by john1513 on AO3, Not of Us by ShesAKillerQueen98 on AO3, How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by GaryOldman on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: Okay I took a bit of a hiatus from writing literally anything for about five months so sorry about that but I’m back now!! That’s the main thing. Also, I’ve left high school now which is very exciting! That does mean I’ll have so much more time to write and I’m definitely going to try and use this summer to establish some kind of routine for writing so that when I start college, I won’t get too overwhelmed with both my studies and with updating my fics. That’s the plan anyway so don’t hold me to that lmao. With any luck, now I’ve actually said that it’ll have to happen. (I wrote that part of this note back in May when it was the start of the summer. It is currently September and I’m just about to finally publish this chapter and I assure you, I am cringing at my own optimism.) Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter has been in the works since May (yes, I know I’m terrible) but I actually got a lot more writing done in that time that what you just see in this chapter. All will be revealed soon. I just promise that I have been productive. Once you’ve read this chapter, you have my blessing to translate the title of this fic. Hopefully it will make sense.

I just wanted to point out something about the playlist I linked in the previous chapter. I am well aware that there are some rather problematic people in it, namely Sia. I want you all to know that I don’t support her in any way (I don’t like her at all I think she’s a complete ableist twat). Her songs are only on there because of how well they fit with the story (a lot of this will become clearer as the story goes on).

I also wanted to point out that I know that if angels do exist, then their true forms probably wouldn’t look anything like humans. I’m well aware of that, I’m not an idiot, I don’t know if any of you remember when people started googling ‘angel true form’ and some people got scared lmao. The point is, we’ve all seen the pictures. But for the purpose of this story, and honestly just to make it easier for me to describe what the characters are doing, we’re going to have to pretend that they did look like humans. Can I claim creative license with this one? Maybe it got lost in translation because there is probably no way someone could describe how an angel truly looks in any human language? I don’t know, just roll with it.I know that this chapter had so much exposition and explanation in it but I can promise you two things. One, there is still much to be revealed. Two, I promise this isn’t just bad writing on my part. Just trust that I needed to put this all in this early on.

And how is everyone doing after the season 2 announcement? I mean, at the time of writing this specific part of my notes, it only got announced about an hour ago lmao. I’m very fucking excited, oh my god. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found out I can’t lie. Catch me trying to finish this before it comes out in case things occur which means I have to change things in this story. I can’t be arsed for that. Oh well. Hopefully it’ll read like those Sherlock fics that people wrote in between series 2 and series 3 if that doesn’t happen.

Taglist: @briarrose26

Ask or comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s) or series. Full list is in my bio.

Hermit (upright) + Five of Wands (upright)

Conflict. Reflection. Resurfacing memories.

************

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

We know who our enemies are. We know.

– Richard Siken (Detail of the Fire)

************

“Fuck.”

The angel and demon exchanged glances of what could only be described as thinly veiled panic, while the woman in front of them just looked annoyed at the most.

“They couldn’t wait five minutes, could they?” she muttered, pinching at the bridge of her nose in frustration before standing up again, “Look, just stay down here, I’m gonna go sort this out. With any luck they won’t have actually realised you’re here too.”

“Wait, how do you know they’re here for you?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious as to what business Eloise might have with Heaven.

“Just a gut feeling,” she said before making her way to the spiral staircase behind them, muttering to herself, “If they were here for you, I feel like they would have at least used the front door.”

The other two waited until she’d run upstairs before exchanging a quick glance, an unspoken word, and following her up.

Meanwhile, Eloise was hovering outside a room at the end of the corridor which she could only assume was the bedroom. She was strangely hesitant, not out of fear of them, simply out of fear of the unknown. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room for millennia, and something told her that this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. She took a deep breath, even though she technically didn’t need it, letting a wave of faux confidence wash over her, and stepped inside. Don’t crumble now. You’ve come too far to crumble now.

“Ah, Mariel, long time no see,” Gabriel smiled coldly, brushing the dust off his white suit. Flanked by two other angels, he stood in the wreckage of the bedroom without even acknowledging the damage they must have caused when they crashed in. Beside him were Beelzebub and Hastur, who both looked as though they had been dragged kicking and screaming to come here. Beelzebub in particular kept shooting metaphorical daggers at Gabriel, who remained perfectly oblivious. The entire ceiling had caved in from the impact of their crash, the setting sun painting the doorway where Eloise stood in a pale gold and casting a dark shadow over the others.

She’d grimaced at the use of her old name; it was too unfamiliar, too ancient. Mariel was the name of a long-dead version of herself. Once upon a time, she’d embraced it, but that was once upon a time. Once upon a time long gone.

“Almost like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose,” she muttered, leaning against the doorway as she stared intrusively at each person in the room, observing, assessing. She silently revelled in the blatant discomfort in each of their faces.

“No need to be so rude,” Gabriel said, doing anything to avoid her eyes, his previous confident façade now shattered.

Eloise stared at him in disbelief, “What exactly were you expecting? A fucking welcome party? I haven’t seen any of you in over six thousand years and you just crash through the roof of my house, unannounced and uninvited, so yeah, forgive me for being a little irritated.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. She’d barely been in Aziraphale’s bookshop for fifteen minutes and she was already pretending she owned it.

She watched smugly as he squirmed under her gaze, desperately looking to the others to say something in response. A moment or two passed before Beelzebub’s head suddenly snapped up in confusion, “Are you alone?”

Shit. She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed the presence of the two who were definitely not downstairs like she’d asked. She swallowed, trying not to let any kind of emotion show on her face, trying not to give the game up that quickly, “Yeah, I live on my own.” She watched the whole group of them squint in concentration, trying to sense any other beings in the house. She sighed, changing the subject before they could comment on it any further, “Look, what do you want? I don’t have all day so if you could make it quick then that would be much appreciated.”

Gabriel looked back at her, his suave exterior unfortunately making a return, “Hey, we just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. She pushed herself off from the doorway, stalking towards the others, “You have had six thousand years to ‘check up on me’, don’t pretend you’ve only started to care now.”

She was met with only silence as Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other awkwardly, looking very much like chastised children. Suddenly the latter groaned and cried, “You can’t just leave Hell!”

“Oh, here we go,” Eloise muttered, rolling her eyes, bored already.

“You can’t! You Fell from Heaven, so you go to Hell, there isn’t a third option!”

“Well, apparently there is,” she shrugged.

“No there isn’t!” they argued, face screwed up like a petulant child.

“Then what do you call this then?” she asked, unfolding her wings for the second time that day. She studied their reactions closely, scrutinising coal-black eyes piercing through their very souls. She was searching for any hint of shock, of recognition, of anything that could clue her in as to what was going on in their heads at that moment. All she could find, however, was pure, unadulterated confusion. Which was annoying when her wings were supposed to be an answer to their unasked questions.

Gabriel stumbled over his words, “Good Lord, how did you even-”

Eloise cut him off curtly, no longer having the patience to listen to his incoherent mumbles. She instead turned to Beelzebub who at least had the decency to look a little more composed, “That would be what you could sense then. I’ve got both Heaven and Hell in me, that’s a lot of energy to pick up on.” She stared right through them, daring them to say anything else.

“Must be,” they replied slowly, though they didn’t look at all convinced.

Gabriel held up a hand, his eyes darting about as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, “No hold on, how did you even manage that?”

“I left Hell,” Eloise said simply, “Why should I have black wings? I’m not some demon who ran away from everything. I left. Permanently. I looked Hell in the eye and walked away. You know what? Fuck it, I looked Satan in the eyes and walked away.”

“You what?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, you heard me. You have a problem with me leaving Hell then go on! Take that up with the bloody devil,” she said, staring them down, daring them to retaliate. She smirked when she was met with pure, uncomfortable silence, “Except you won’t, will you? Because you don’t actually give two fucks about me. Just like I said, if you did then you would have chased me up a long time ago. Quite frankly, I think you must have been glad to have me out of your hair,” she sighed, half sad, half amused when they couldn’t even meet her eye. She paused for a moment, wondering how far she could push this, before asking, “You know what I think is really going on here? I think the pair of you are feeling a bit bruised after the absolute shitshow that was Armageddon last year, which, by the way, fucking hilarious. I think your egos are feeling a little sore after a literal child stopped you from ending the world, so you’re thinking ‘hmm, what would be an easy win so that we don’t feel like total shit? Oh yeah, what about that demon who ran away all that time ago? That should be easy to sort out.’. Well, love to disappoint, but you’re not getting me that easily, especially when not a single one of us actually wants me back, and Sandalphon, take one more step further I swear I will dropkick you back to Heaven,” she snapped, glaring at the angel who had been menacingly inching closer while she had been talking. He reluctantly stepped back alongside Gabriel, looking a little more than miffed that his plan hadn’t worked out. “You really want me back? Get your bosses to talk to me because I don’t actually see why it’s any of your business. No middle men. Just God, Satan and me. I’ll see what they have to say about all this. Questions?” she asked, tone snapping from one extreme to another, almost as if she had just been possessed.

Gabriel stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish, “You can’t just boss us around like that.”

“What? Like how you bossed us around all those years?” she replied without missing a beat, real rage, real danger seeping into her voice now, “I think we’re done here.”

“But-”

“I said, I think we’re done here,” she said, leaving no room for arguments. She gestured to the sorry excuse for a room around them, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can miracle things too,” Gabriel said, desperate for any kind of leverage over Eloise.

“You’re right, I could, but I didn’t make this mess, and I personally believe that you should face the consequences of your actions, Gabriel,” she said pointedly, watching as he visibly gulped. In a matter of seconds, the room was restored to its original state and Eloise was left alone in the room, no indicators that she was ever with any other people remaining.

She sighed and all but collapsed into a chair that may or may not have existed a few moments ago, confident façade shattered completely. She breathed heavily in exhaustion, as if she’d just run a marathon; she supposed she had just run a mental one. Her emotions were bugging her to no end. It was strange. She wasn’t scared, per se. There was very little that Gabriel or Beelzebub could do to her that would frighten her anymore. She tried her best to compose herself, writing off the tsunami inside her mind as just plain old adrenaline, before calling out, “You can come in now. I know you guys are outside, it’s okay, you can come in.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the room, one looking considerably more sheepish than the other. Aziraphale perched awkwardly on the freshly reconstructed bed, “We’re sorry–”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, we’re not.”

Eloise and Crowley exchanged a glance, amused looks on both of their faces while Aziraphale simply looked distressed. Eloise turned back to him and smiled sympathetically, “I told you, it’s fine. I would have done the same,” she admitted, looking away before collecting herself once again, “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Crowley muttered as he took a seat beside Aziraphale, although it was a very loose definition of ‘taking a seat’.

Aziraphale glared at him while Eloise just sighed and reluctantly said, “I think it might be better if I just show you.”

Crowley cocked his head in confusion, “Show us what?”

She brought her chair closer to the edge of the bed and put out her hands, “Take my hands. Brace yourselves.”

Mariel was standing before a crowd of angels, dozens upon dozens of disgusted faces staring right at her. She couldn’t quite remember getting there. She had been in the pitch-dark holding cell and the next thing she knew, she was here. Blinding white light surrounded them, harshly illuminating her vulnerabilities before all of Heaven. She tried her best to keep her chin up even though she absolutely hated the fact that they could see the bruises from when she had been arrested that were now blooming on her face. She frowned as she noticed the lack of measures preventing her from escaping. All that was keeping her there was Gabriel’s presence at her side, cold violet eyes pointedly ignoring her. He really was an arrogant bastard for assuming that she wouldn’t even try to make a run for it. Just because he was right this one time, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have come prepared. Mariel sighed and looked up at the angels staring down at her. Michael was sat higher than everyone in the centre of the crowd, face void of all emotion as she said, “The Principality Mariel. You’re on trial today for betraying the will of the Almighty, rebelling against all that is good and light in the universe...”

Mariel blocked the rest of her pretentious speech out as she droned on about all the awful things she’d supposedly done to deserve this. It was all lies anyway. She knew the real reason she was here. There were a few things that stood out to her despite it all, things that nearly made her laugh. She’d known that they’d needed to conjure up some reasons for condemning her, but this was just ridiculous. Gabriel really had gone to extraordinary yet desperate lengths to slander her in her final moments in this Someone-forsaken place. She was surprised that the angels gathered to watch her downfall believed a word of this. She tried her best not to resent them, though. It wasn’t like they had anything better to believe in. Especially considering the amused smirk that had crept its way onto her face.

She returns to reality just in time to hear Michael ask, “What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I’ve done nothing I need to defend,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is,” Gabriel muttered dangerously from where he stood beside her.

Mariel turned to look at him in disbelief. “How the fuck could this get any worse, Gabriel?” she hissed, fury flaring up in her eyes.

He just looked back at her condescendingly, “Do you really need me to answer that?”

She pointedly refused to reply, turning back to face Michael, determined to ignore him.

The next part goes past in a blur for Mariel. Michael speaks again, though she doesn’t listen. Then suddenly there are shouts of anger, screams of rage, coming from the gathered crowd. They spit with venom as they hurl insults at her. She doesn’t hear a word. It’s as though her head is under water, completely submerged in the stone cold anger that seeps through her body, and suddenly Mariel is drowning in the realisation that this is really happening, oh God this is really happening.

Why? Why is this happening to me? You listening, God? Look me in the eye and tell me why this is happening.

She doesn’t get an answer, and though she wasn’t expecting one, it still hurts. Because she knows that she’ll never get an answer from Her again now.

Eventually she feels a tug on her arm from where Gabriel has been standing, dragging her away from the crowd and out her of current state of mind. She could feel her senses coming back to her as she stumbled backwards, but everything was crashing down on her too quickly, too harshly. She did her best to shove the rising panic as deep down insider her as she could. There was no way she would let anyone here see her in that state. She couldn’t let them think they’d won.

She didn’t even realise she had reached the edge of the ground she was standing on, the edge of Heaven itself, Gabriel no longer grabbing her arm. She nearly found herself peering over the edge, but stopped herself before she could lean too far. It may have helped her in the past but now was not the time to give in to her curiosity. And she didn’t trust Gabriel to not push her the moment he had the chance. She turned her head to glare fiercely at him, piercing holes in his very soul. She could slowly feel her anxiety being replaced by cool rage as she found herself saying, “Any institution that tries to silence anyone who opposes them is inherently corrupt.” She stared knowingly at his discomfort as he forced himself to face her. He knew what she meant by that. He knew.

He took a second to compose himself before practically scoffing in her face, “Don’t preach at me.”

Mariel cocked her head as she studied him. She watched as his eyes subconsciously flicked back to the crowd, to the other Archangels. He blatantly wanted nothing more than to re-join his fellow angels, the only beings who understood why he was doing what he was doing, or were at least supposed to understand anyway. Somehow she doubted they were all as cold-hearted and self-absorbed as the angel in front of her. She considered him for a moment before saying simply, “Your quest for power will kill you in the end.”

He furrowed his brows in somewhat amused confusion, “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s the truth,” she blinked at him before leaning in and murmuring in his ear, “It will be your downfall.”

“The only one who’s going to Fall around here is you,” he said dangerously. Mariel leaned back and watched the lethal glimmer in his eye wither and die under the intensity of her gaze.

She just smiled. “We’ll see.” She let herself look at him for a moment longer before blinking away the tears and cautiously taking a small step backwards. She could feel where the ground ended beneath her feet and was sure not to step any further. She took one last look of the place she once called home, embracing how it felt for the last time though she knew she wouldn’t miss it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and fell back.

Mariel was Falling. That bit she knew, but much more than that? Everything was happening too fast for her to notice. And yet, it was as if she was existing in slow-motion. She worried for a moment that this was, in fact, her fate; doomed to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, of Falling, for all eternity. The only thing telling her otherwise was the view of Heaven above her, which she realised only too late was slowly shrinking into nothing. Mariel found herself reaching her own arms out, grasping for Heaven. They were opposite ends of a magnet being roughly pulled away from each other by an invisible force.

You hear that God? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? And don’t you dare tell me it’s all part of your plan because right now, the only thing I want is to be back where I should be and I can’t even have that.

She pulled herself out of her mind and back into reality; she’d have plenty of time in Hell to yell at a God who’d never listen, let alone answer. She only just started to register her surroundings, the fact that she was actually Falling, who knows how far and for how long, tumbling through the air at an unimaginable speed, plummeting towards a place that could be anything from seconds to hours away. The deafening wind that screamed in her ears, drowning out the screams which may have been coming from her mouth or her mind, who was she to say? Air whipped around her body, icier and more painful than any words that could ever be uttered by the angels above her. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any hint of Heaven on the horizon that she started to feel the tears finally fall, trickling down her face and floating slightly due to the force of the Fall.

Then suddenly it came. She felt it in the very tips of her wings first, a strange tingling sensation, as though hundreds and then thousands of pins were skirting the edges of her corporeal being. It spread over the rest of her wings, and then her body, at a faster pace than she could keep track of until her whole being felt as though it was burning. The pain grew, and it grew, and it grew, and she didn’t think she could physically take any more pain when she looked up in horror at her own freshly blackened wings. Her beautiful, holy wings which had once been the softest, purest white, were now stained with evil and ash. For the first time since she started Falling, however long ago that might have been, she let out a choked sob that racked through her whole body and through the ever-changing air around her. Nobody heard her cries. Nobody heard her screams as the searing pain in her chest grew stronger. She couldn’t even begin to work out whether it was physical or emotional but it was there and it burned a hole, a gaping wound, through her soul, leaving a scar fated to never heal and to forever haunt her-

Eloise was crying. She’d tried so hard to prevent the steady streams that were now running down her cheeks, but that was a memory that she’d never wanted to relive. She looked upwards for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions and her breathing, before peeling her hands away from the two sat in front of her. She roughly wiped the tears from her face, and suddenly the only thing telling you she had been crying were the bloodshot eyes that Crowley tried to ignore as he said bluntly, “I’m still confused.”

“Crowley, give her a minute,” Aziraphale chastised him, furrowing his brows at the demon before he turned back to Eloise with kind eyes and a kinder heart, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She nodded without much hesitation, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She certainly wasn’t fine, nor was it okay, but the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her feelings in front of two people she was trying her best not to scare off. She looked back at Crowley, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He looked at her in understanding, for if anyone knew her thought process in that moment, it was him. “Right, so you Fell and became a demon. Then what?”

“Well, you know what Hell’s like,” she started, looking pointedly at Crowley. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Not my scene at all. I just point-blank refused to do anything they asked of me. Naturally they didn’t like that much. Eventually I was called in to see Satan about it. I remember thinking, ‘well, that’s that then. Terrible knowing you all.’, because I didn’t think I was going to survive that. Turns out he was just annoyed that I was being a bloody nuisance to everyone else, but he was too amused to really do anything about it, so he basically just told me to piss off. Leave Hell, don’t come back, and I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone or that you’re even alive. Not exactly a deal I could refuse, so I left, came to Earth, been here ever since. I think everyone just assumed he’d killed me,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t just destroyed the whole idea of eternal damnation with just a few sentences. She smiled to herself as they gaped at her for a moment, though she doubted they realised they were doing it.

Crowley somehow managed to gather his senses quick enough to hold up a hand and say, “Wait, but when you were talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and that lot, you said they had six thousand years to check up on you. Why would you say that if they thought you were dead?” He narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn’t altogether quite sure why he seemed to be so keen on finding any gaps in her story, but he needed to be able to trust that she was telling the truth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, and they didn’t exactly seem surprised to see you alive.”

Eloise grinned. You two are gonna be fun, I can tell. “You’re both very observant, I have to give you credit for that.” She paused in thought for a second before starting carefully, “You see, the trouble with me is that I’m not really one for keeping a low profile. I’m too noisy, so to speak, and I don’t even realise it most of the time. This demon I hadn’t exactly been the nicest to back in Hell saw me in Babylon, gosh, it must have been eighteen thirty something BC? Anyways, he ratted me out to Beelzebub who must have told Gabriel all about it. I had about a decade of this bloody demon trying to discorporate me just to see if it would force me to go back to Hell, then one day he just stopped, and I never saw him again. Beelzebub probably told him to piss off.”

They were both quiet again for a little while. Eloise didn’t even think to say anything. It might be a rare occasion, but she did know when to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. She could see the cogs turning in their heads as if it was projected in the air above them. Eventually Crowley murmured, “I didn’t even know you could do that, you know, leave.”

She shook her head with a strange kind of sympathy that came from recognising an experience you had far too long ago, “Neither did I. It stills shocks me sometimes if I think about it too much.”

A few seconds passed before Crowley cleared his throat abruptly and said, “They called you Mariel. I thought you said your name was Eloise.”

She hesitated before answering. She knew exactly what he was doing, she’d been doing it for the whole of their conversation thus far, but just because she tended to bury her emotions, it didn’t mean that she liked it when others did it. She decided to ignore the hypocrisy of that thought, how ironic, she thought to herself, and instead explained, “It is. Mariel was my angel name. You know how it is,” she looked pointedly at Crowley again, hoping that Aziraphale would be able to put the pieces together. She didn’t actually know how much he knew about what it was like to Fall and become a demon.

“Oh, so is Eloise your demon name?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“No,” she said curtly, instantly feeling guilty when she saw the hurt that flashed over Aziraphale’s face. She grimaced and explained in a gentler tone, “I chose it for myself when I came to Earth. Hell tried to change my name after I Fell but I just refused.” She studied him for a second, watching his eyes dart about, before saying, “You want to ask something, I can tell. What is it?”

He looked a little startled at being caught out, momentarily glancing at Crowley for support, probably subconsciously, Eloise noted with a smile. “I, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you mentioned Armageddon. Back when you were speaking with, um, well, you know. H-how did you know about that?”

“I might have been there.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a much less casual manner than what she’d been aiming for, coming out in a sort of jumbled heap that took Crowley and Aziraphale a moment to decipher.

Crowley, the poor sod, could only think to lean forward and ask a simple, “You what?”

She jumped to defend herself, wanting to avoid the onslaught of questions if she could, “Not actually at the airbase, but I was in the area. I was living in Tadfield at the time.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, although the hint of a smirk on his face told her it was more in amusement than suspicion, “How did you know it was at the airbase?”

Eloise couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because of course, they’d notice her choice of words, “I knew Adam and his mates. I ran an ice cream shop, would you believe it. He came and told me all about it the day after,” she smiled fondly before suddenly coming alive with excitement, “That’s actually how I found out about you two. That’s why I’m here. Because I thought I was the only one trying to stop the world ending, but apparently I wasn’t. I had to see for myself.”

A moment passed before Aziraphale asked quietly, “You were trying to stop it?”

Eloise, not noticing the newly subdued atmosphere, launched herself into a painfully over-enthusiastic explanation, “Yeah, it was quite clever really, if I do say so myself. I made sure Adam was swapped with the American baby in the hopes that he would have a human enough upbringing to perhaps change things. Seems to have worked,” she shrugged, before finally taking in the two shocked faces that were staring back at her. Her brows furrowed and her face fell as she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You switched the babies?” Crowley asked blankly, although it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Her face screwed up as she tried to work out how best to explain herself. “Well, I say switched, it was more of a ‘made sure the demon dropping the antichrist off went to the wrong delivery room’ kind of thing. Feel sorry for the poor sod who had to deal with that but needs must.”

Crowley blinked at her and said bluntly, “I was the poor sod who had to deal with that.”

Eloise looked at him for a moment as about five different jigsaw pieces finally clicked in her head, before she threw her head back in realisation, “Oh shit, so you were. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“You bastard, we spent six years raising the wrong child because of you!” he exclaimed, wagging his finger at her and jumping off of the bed at one point before Aziraphale tugged him back down. Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or run for her life, for the menace in his words was betrayed by the disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” she asked, only just processing what he’d just said, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at his dramatic antics. She knew not to push it when Aziraphale just lifted a finger and pursed his lips with the look of someone who’d rather never bring up said event again.

“Oh bloody heaven, I can’t believe this,” Crowley shook his head, chuckling to himself. Although part of him resented it, he couldn’t help but look at Eloise differently now as they laughed like little kids together. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed so much more like them now, so much more human. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to stop the apocalypse and all the implications that came with the fact. Suddenly he just wanted to know more about her, but he quickly silenced that thought. One thing at a time.

She raised her shoulders with a confused look on her face, giggling as she said, “Sorry? Well, I didn’t know, did I?”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter again at the sheer absurdity of it all, leaving Aziraphale slightly bewildered and more than slightly exasperated at the pair. It took them a few moments to finally calm down but once they did, Crowley sobered his tone of voice as he asked, “Right, back to what happened before we came in. Anything we need to keep an eye out for?”

Though he didn’t say it, Eloise could see the unasked question in his eyes. Are we safe? She smiled softly, “Nah, you two’ll be fine. Basically I told them if they want to talk to me, then they need to get their bosses involved, and somehow I highly doubt God and Satan are gonna pop down for a friendly chat any time soon. Even then, you two should be fine. I don’t think any of that lot clocked on that you were here.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, and it didn’t escape Eloise’s attention how the remaining dregs of tension visibly dissipated from both of their bodies. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a moment, the relief palpable from the pair of them. Eloise averted her eyes, giving them the privacy that they didn’t necessarily need but probably did want. She allowed herself a moment to ponder their relationship. They were very in tune with each other, very in sync, that much was obvious. Are they in love? The question sounded ridiculous the moment she thought it. Of course they are, look at them. She’d seen that look time and time again over the millennia. Although when she thought about the way they looked at each other further, that lead to another question. Do they know? The hint of yearning in their eyes was subtle but it was there. No, absolutely not. They’re too comfortable with each other. They’re a unit, that much she could tell. A unit that might not want to be disturbed.

Oh dear.

She looked back up at them hesitantly, unsure of what to say for the first time that evening. Eventually she said, “I’d better go. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

Crowley frowned. Hadn’t she said she’d been travelling for a while? “You got somewhere to stay?”

Eloise paused. She’d definitely not been expecting that response. “Not yet. There is a flat I was going to rent but the people haven’t moved out yet because of the lockdown and it seems rude to miracle them away. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Stay here,” Crowley said almost instantly, then pulled a face of confusion at how quickly he replied, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Eloise blinked at that. Surely, they wouldn’t want her there? What reason could they possibly have to want her there? “Wait, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley just shrugged, “It’s not a problem. What are your options anyway? No hotels are open, and you can’t stay with anyone.”

“Only if you’re sure,” she murmured, still wary for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Aziraphale for confirmation; it was his bookshop after all.

He nodded firmly, “Of course. I’ve been told the sofa is remarkably comfy,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, to which she grinned broadly.

A short while and a few miracles later, the sofa downstairs had become a makeshift bed that was significantly larger and softer than it had remembered it being. Eloise was currently settled on it; all it had taken was ten minutes for her to completely crash out. Aziraphale and Crowley had left her in peace with a chuckle, heading up to the bedroom they shared (that wasn’t out of choice, mind you. Simply because there was only one bedroom in the bookshop. No other reason.) One slightly confused item of furniture aside, all seemed to be well in the bookshop.

Upstairs in the bedroom, an angel and a demon were sitting in the same bed. Neither of them had thought to turn off the lights, so they were sat in thick silence in the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t usually come up to bed, not as used to sleeping as Crowley was, instead opting to read the night away downstairs. However this seemed impolite considering their new guest, so he’d come up with Crowley. And while Crowley was mulling this over he finally stumbled upon why he felt so uneasy.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book up with him.

As bizarre a concern as that may seem, Crowley could always trust Aziraphale to bring a book up to bed with him on the rare occasion he came up at night. That was one of the things he lo- liked about him. Liked. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, noting the slight frown on his face as he stared into space. How deep in his head must he have been to forget a book? “You alright, angel?” he asked as softly as he could so as to not startle him.

He looked at Crowley with wide eyes that darted away almost instantly as he started to play with his hands in his lap, “Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I just realised something, is all.”

Crowley cocked his head in interest, “Oh really? What was it?”

He was silent for a little while before saying in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I think I was there when she Fell.”

Crowley felt his eyebrows raise in shock, looking away for a second to try and compose himself. “Right. Well, that’s a thing.”

“Quite.”

He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of what this meant now, “And was she telling the truth? Did all that actually happen?”

“Yes. I remember it perfectly well. Clear as day,” he managed to choke out with a forced smile before going back to his routine fidgeting.

Crowley laid a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s, stopping what he was doing and getting him to actually look him in the eye for longer than a second. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am quite well. Don’t fret,” he said, and despite Crowley’s concern, he couldn’t pretend that the smile on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t genuine, however small it may have been.

He reluctantly let it go, changing the subject quickly, “You alright with her staying here? I know it just sort of happened.”

The smile on his face only grew, much to Crowley’s surprise, “It’s alright. After all, wasn’t it you who said we’re on our own side now? I think she’s the first person we’ve met who might understand what that means.”

Crowley tried not to think too much about the fact that Aziraphale had actually listened to him when he’d said that, let alone remembered it, instead opting for a casual, “Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m gonna get some sleep. I, um, yeah,” he stammered out awkwardly, cursing his brain for not thinking of literally any other decent response.

Aziraphale simply smiled fondly at him, “Indeed. Goodnight, my dear.”

*************

Hello my love,

At the time of writing this, I do not know what the future holds. For me it’s an uncertain, unstoppable force, and it’s not one I think I can fend off for much longer. I’ve tried, please believe that I’ve tried. I’ve tried for your sake to prevent the inevitable. But it’s coming. I can feel it. It won’t be long now, I don’t think.

If you’re reading this, it means I was right, and I have Fallen. I know you’re probably confused and scared and that there is a biting anger bubbling inside you. I wish I could tell you why this is happening. I wish I could tell you that this is all a huge misunderstanding that will be resolved soon.

I wish I could tell you I love you one more time.

But I can’t. There are many things I can’t do now, and it’ll do me no good to dwell on this any longer than I have to. To survive we must focus on what we can do, and that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.

If I know myself as well as I think I do, there are many things I would have liked to have said to you upon our final farewell, but didn’t because I wanted to make sure you were alright. Don’t feel guilty about this, my love. Think of it as my last debt to you being repaid.

I have a plan. Well, it’s more of an idea, and it might not work. And it’s because of this that I shan’t tell you exactly what it is. It seems cruel to allow you to hope for something that might never come into fruition. But please put your faith in me, and in our love, for we will prevail. One way or another.

I hope that you didn’t wait to read this letter because you were scared of its contents, though I’m sure this isn’t the case. You were always brave. It was always something I loved about you. Your quiet, beautiful, roaring courage in the face of such turmoil and anguish. You always had the courage to be kind and to love with all your being, even when everything was against you. No one would have blamed you if you had turned cold and bitter, and yet you chose not to. I admire you for it every day. My idea, should it work, will require us both to be incredibly brave. But more on that another day. It’s that bravery and that strength that you will need to rely on now. That, and the thought of me. Though I may not physically be with you, but I hope that my love’s own soul is enough.

I won’t sign off this letter, because this is not where our story ends. There is much left to be written. And I need you to remember that each day we are parted. Until the next time, my love.

#good omens #good omens headcanon #good omens fic #good omens imagine #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #Aziraphale #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale headcanon #Ineffable Husbands

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chairismaticchair · 4 years ago

Text

Star Crossed Enemies

Happy Holidays @yellowartistsunshine ! @sanderssidesgiftxchange

Summary: When two rival theatre majors get cast as the leads in "Romeo and Juliet", something blossoms between them. Something beautiful.

This is Roceit, there are some swears. I had lots of fun writing this, especially since this was my first roceit fic!

If Roman despised a single person in the world with all his body and soul, that would be Janus Taylor. He hated how snagging lead roles in plays and musicals always became a fight between them. He hated how smug Janus constantly acted. He hated his stupidly posh accent that was only really obvious when he was on stage performing Shakespeare. He hated how he couldn't have any straight (not that it was possible with Roman any other way) or slightly logical conversation with Janus. He hated him, from the tip of his dumb black beanie, to the soles of his beige loafers. Overall, he hated Janus.

Whenever they passed in the college, there would be a flurry of middle fingers and middle-school-grade insults like "shit head" and "dumbass" thrown about with as much malice as two theatre majors could. They seemed to lose all common sense when in the mere vicinity of each other, instead becoming caricatures of theatre rivals. Arguably, that was exactly what they were.

"Taylor." Roman spat out. "I heard the LGBTQ+ Club's putting up another play soon. Suppose you're going to want the lead role. But it's mine." He declared, as if no one had expected Roman Diaz Santos to want the lead role.

Decei - shit sorry, Janus hissed back. "I heard it's gonna be Shakespeare, and guess who always gets Shakespeare roles? Me. Shithead." He added the “shithead” as an afterthought, as if this was his first rivalry and he had almost forgotten rule #315 of the Rivalry Book of Rivals.

They then tossed each other middle fingers like mutual salutes and marched off, heads held up high and refusing to turn back.

"Man, Janus really is a dick isn't he?" Roman complained to his best friend Virgil Teo, who sighed.

"Yes, Roman. Just like the -" He pulled out a notebook and made a little mark. "534 other times you've told me. This year. I don't even know what's that bad about him."

"Well of course you don't get it. You two dated freshman year. Honestly, I thought you had better taste."

"And I do. That's why we broke up." Virgil slapped Roman's shoulder playfully. "Who are you to insult my dating life? You haven't had a single date since the start of college."

"I've had dates." Roman protested.

"Bad dates, Princey. Those don't count. Maybe you could send it to the Guinness World Records."

Roman gasped in mock annoyance. "How dare you, Virgil.” He gave a wistful sigh. “Anyways, I just want to find my soulmate. They’re out there, I can just feel it. A Juliet or Julien to my Romeo.”

"You're always are full of bullshit, aren't you, Roman?"

---

Patton, a senior, walked up to the front of the leture theatre and tapped the teacher on the shoulder. He whispered something in her ear and the teacher sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose frustratedly. "Hi! The LGBTQ+ Club is putting up two Shakespeare plays for this November! The first one will be a gay Romeo and Juliet, called Romeo and Julien. The other will be a sapphic 'Much Ado about Nothing'. Audition sign ups start next week Monday and end on Friday! Thank you!" Patton was very chirpy for 8 a.m. .

Now, this was when shit hit the fan and our story gets exciting. Roman turned to Virgil enthusiastically. "I'm totally auditioning for Romeo." Meanwhile, all students in the near vicinity who wanted Romeo's role sighed in unison.

Across the lecture theatre, Janus turned to his friend Remus excitedly. "I'm auditioning for Julien! This is gonna be great."

"For fucks sake." Someone in the near vicinity groaned and his friend patted his back sympathetically.

---

Roman sat outside the auditorium, swinging his feet while waiting for his turn to audition. Walking down the corridor, Janus turned to Roman and picked up the chair beside him. He moved 6 feet away and plopped the chair down.

"So, Santos." He started, staring intensely at the auditorium door.

Roman found his shoes absolutely riveting. "Yeah?"

"What role are you auditioning for?"

Tapping the side of his chair, Roman said, "The lead one, obviously."

"Oh." Janus paused and turned to look directly at Roman. Sticking out his hand, he gave him a slight smile. "Well may the best one win."

Roman took the hand hesitantly. "Yeah Janus. Break a leg."

---

The large board outside the auditorium was a crowd favourite among students. It was constantly updated with rehearsal times, casting choices and upcoming performances, you know, the classic cool stuff.

Roman and Janus were the first to arrive at the board and glanced at each other before looking down the corridor with longing.

A boy with big circular wire framed glasses bounded down the corridor, an A4 paper in his hand. He waved excitedly at the two in front of him. "Hi Roman! Hi Janus! Waiting for results?"

The two nodded in synchronisation.

"Oh, well I got them here!" He got out a stapler and stapled the paper to the board, the sleeves of his turquoise hoodie large and dangly.

Romeo: Roman Diaz Santos

Julien: Janus Taylor

The two boys turned to each other in horror.

"Y - you mean -"

"You thought-"

"Julien."

"Romeo."

"WAS THE LEAD ROLE?"

The boy, Patton, looked at them in amusement. "Well, you both got main roles, so congrats! Rehearsals start in two weeks and I'll give you guys your scripts tomorrow. Have fun!"

He patted them both on the back before heading off, skip in his step.

Janus and Roman turned to look at each other in horror once more.

---

There is a moment in one's life, where they will reflect on everything they have done, and wonder what mistakes they had made to lead them down this path. As Roman flipped through the script Patton had handed him, that was exactly what he was doing. "You mean to say, I have to kiss this - this snake 5 times? Outrageous. Unacceptable."

They sat in a circle, everyone who participated in the play knee against knee. It was far too close for comfort and Roman was probably going to vomit onto the rest of the cast.

Virgil, who was in charge of lights and sound and sitting next to him, smirked. "Princey, this is literally a play about you two in love. 5 kisses are the minimum."

"And I am right here, you know." Janus looked slightly offended, leaning over and looking at Roman, who was a Virgil away. "And I'm not that bad at kissing. Ask Virgil. "

Virgil choked.

Before Roman could retort, Patton interrupted them. "Okay guys! Don't forget to practice your lines. Rehearsals start in two weeks so I hope you manage to memorise some of your lines."

As they left the auditorium, Roman whispered to Virgil. "Is Janus actually good at kissing?"

Virgil just shrugged.

Patton called after the leaving group. "Roman? Janus? Please get whatever feud is going on between you two and throw it away. You two need to cooperate so that we can all work together. Go bond over the next few days. Thanks!”

Bond? With Janus? Roman never wanted to hear those words in the same sentence ever again. There was an odd creeping feeling that grew in his stomach and crawled up his throat invasively. It was foreign and weird. Maybe an allergic reaction.

“Oy! Janus! We probably have to - to get to know each other better.” Roman could feel heat spreading from his toes all the way to his cheeks. Why was he blushing? He should not be blushing. “So, do you wanna go grab some food tonight?”

Janus’ eyes widened and he physically stepped back. He pointed at Roman, before pointing back at himself. “You? Offering me? Dinner?”

Roman shot a wink at Janus cheekily, before turning around to hide his blush. What was he doing? He never flirted with his rival. Was that even flirting? Tugging his hair down in a pitiful attempt to hide his burning red ears, he turned to Virgil.

Virgil wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, before elbowing Roman in the side. “Stepping up your game, Santos? Impressive.”

Roman blushed even harder, and looked away.

---

Roman had had his fair share of dates, if that was what you called a dinner like this, and he never knew what to say. He pulled out his best card.

“So...ya like jazz?”

Janus choked on his iced lemon tea. "Fucking Bee Movie?”

“Well, you do wear black and yellow 80% of the time, so you clearly like bees. Ergo, Bee Movie.”

An eyebrow was raised. “Impressive. You almost sound as smart as Logan.”

“I wish. He’s an absolute genius.” Logan was studying law, would probably become the valedictorian, and was dating Patton. Truly a legend.

“What’s your favourite animated movie then?” Janus asked. “Mine certainly is not the Bee Movie. There are loads of better Dreamworks films. I love Megamind."

“Oh, Megamind is really good! Choosing a favourite… that’s so hard though!” Roman bounced in his seat. Another movie lover? Perhaps, Janus wasn't too bad.

Janus laughed and the food must have been tainted or something, because Roman’s heart skipped several beats.

---

“Right! Let’s start at Act 1, Scene 5. You guys are at the party and this is when Romeo meets Julien for the first time. Action.” Patton, perched on the edge of a chair, announced, eyes shining with excitement.

Roman glanced over at Janus, clad in a hoodie and jeans. He was flipping through his script and mumbling lines to himself. It was their first rehearsal so they were still allowed to look at their scripts. It also happened to be their first kiss scene. Pink tinted Roman's cheeks at the thought. Kiss… Janus? The two words seemed so foreign next to each other, yet they felt as though they were meant to be. He couldn't stop his eyes lingering over Janus' light pink lips. He turned away quickly, glancing at his script. Romeo kisses Julien.

Romeo.

Kisses.

Julien.

Shaking his head, he looked up at the people on stage, waiting for his cue. He had to stop thinking so much. Thoughts were dangerous. Who knows where they may lead?

Roman wondered what Janus' lips tasted like.

Oh for fucks sake.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Roman shoved his face back into the script, mumbling his lines under his breath and waiting for his queue to come on stage.

Stepping onto the stage, he channeled Romeo Shakespearean thoughts. It was a little hard in his button up shirt and jeans, but he was a professional. “What lord is that which doth enrich the hand of yonder knight?” He gestured towards Janus.

A server bowed politely. “I know not, sir.”

“Oh, he doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems he hangs upon the cheek of night. Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. As yonder lord o'er his fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch his place of stand. And, touching his, make blessèd my rude hand.” He spoke to the audience, but couldn’t help think about how accurate this was. Janus too, was really hot.

Roman spoke some more about how hot Julien was, and the rest of the rehearsal was a blur. He wasn’t Roman anymore. In front of this audience? He was Romeo, a rich lovestruck teenager.

Then suddenly, he found himself staring into Janus’ eyes, and he was Roman all over again.

Janus’ eyes, a deep, rich brown that gave Roman a steady look, pierced into Roman’s heart. He spoke towards the audience, but he sounded so genuine and sincere as he uttered his lines. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

Roman gave Janus a soft smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take.”

Closing his eyes, he leaned in and brushed Janus’ lips. It was hesitant, and soft, and he could hear Janus' quiet gasp, as if he wasn't expecting it. It was barely a kiss, more like a peck, but Roman could feel heat rushing into his cheeks. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” He said, loud enough for the audience to hear him.

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took?” Janus cocked his head to the side, looking far more innocent and coy than Roman had ever seen him behave before.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” This time, Janus stood on tiptoes and kissed him. A proper kiss that made the butterflies in his stomach flutter, and Roman wanted to stay like that forever and ever. The scent of Janus' cologne made him giddy and he took Janus' hands, pulling him closer. On one hand, they were playing parts in a play, and on the other hand, everything felt oh so real, from the hoodie toggles that tickled his button up shirt to Janus' soft fingers gripping his hands tightly.

When they finally pulled away, Roman gazed at Janus' shining brown eyes in what must have been a lovestruck expression. He found his Julien.

---

"You BITCH!" Virgil slapped the study table violently.

"What did I do?"

"1 year. 1 fucking year of you making fun of me falling for a white guy and here you are, falling for the exact same white guy." Virgil looked vaguely irritated. "Even my mom was like," He put his hand at his ear like a phone and did an exaggerated Chinese accent. "Aiyah ah boy, I know you like boys, but an angmoh gao is too too much already. But don't worry lah, 4 months is not long, you still can leave him.” Do you even know what that means, you ass?”

He suddenly burst out in laughter. "This is great, it's my turn to poke fun." He rubbed his hands together excitedly. "What was the kiss like? Was it...spicy?"

"Weren't you there?"

"Yeah, but I want a personal recount. Actually, no. Give me the P.E.E.L. format. Point, evidence, example and link on Janus' kissing skills. Go."

"Oh, er. Janus was a… good kisser?" Roman didn't kiss much. "Um, point. His hair is all fluffy and I feel it brushing against my forehead, which gives me butterflies and this warm tingly sensation that ran through my body and gave me goosebumps. And he makes this noise whenever we kiss that is so cute, he honestly sounds genuinely surprised whenever it happens, even though we're following a script. And his cologne smells so good, oh my god I need to get the brand name, it's like kinda ashy, but not quite and it was a bit light, like a nice stroll in a forest. Holy shit it smelled nice. And-"

Virgil raised an eyebrow and paused Roman's tangent. "He wore cologne? He never wears cologne."

"Oh." Roman's eyes widened.

"Maybe…" Virgil wiggled his eyebrows. "He wore it for the kiss scene."

The heat that decided to congregate on Roman's cheeks was undeniable. "Why - why would he do that?"

"He likes you, ya dumbass. And he wanted to impress you, so he decided that hoodie plus beanie plus cologne was a good combo."

Roman stared at his feet. "It was."

Virgil stood up and patted Roman on the head comfortingly. "There, there, it's alright. White guys aren't all that bad."

"Oh fuck off."

Virgil bowed and shot Roman the finger. Truly a man of eloquence and class. Roman opened a picture on his phone from his date with Janus. Janus was smiling, and Roman could feel himself smiling too as he looked at the picture of Janus. Of his Julien.

#secret santa #sanders sides #janus sanders #roman sanders #ts #thomas sanders

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ender1821 · 4 years ago

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Wow my updates are getting later everyday....welp, not like anyone’s actually waiting for these anyways, so I’m just gonna post at my own pace

Today was pretty good, I received my report card for the test and I’m third in the entire grade! Still can’t believe I’m third after my terrible Chinese performance, but I’m not gonna complain about it....

Alright, gonna go back to ranting about the au now, maybe someone actually likes reading these, so if you’re reading this too, just know that I appreciate you reading through my mindless ideas :’D

If the title didn’t give it away enough, the ghost in the anime, Hanako, will be Katherine Howard! I was kinda torn about the roles, but this one just came to my head immediately and it works out pretty well! I don’t wanna give too much away, but the story starts off kind of like the original anime, with someone making a wish to this apparition of the toilet, or Kat in this au....

Speaking of the person who makes the wish, I kinda picked this for two reasons. One being it’d fit the ship for the au, the other being the wish. So, the person who makes a wish to Kat will be.... Anna! The reasons will make sense after I write the first chapter, but I think it’s not that too spoilery, so if you want a deeper explanation on this particular casting, send me an ask!

Lastly, there’s a family of exorcists in the anime who hunt down the spirits in the school, and one of these exorcists in this au would be Cathy! These three are going to be the main focus for this au, so I’m only elaborating on them for now.....the rest will be revealed as the story progresses! (If you’ve actually read/watched the anime, the simpler explanation for this would be Cathy is Kou, Anna is yashiro and Anna is Hanako, of course I’m not gonna just rewrite them in the plot and call it a day, but this is a more direct comparison)

Like I mentioned before, feel free to send an ask about any of my AUs, whether it be the phantom thief au or the tbhk au, I’m more than willing to explain more :D (I’m gonna start writing either the next chapter of Reverie in the dark or Toilet-bound K Howard tomorrow, expect some updates about those later I guess :P. I’m tempted to make a master list of my fics/AUs, maybe I’ll do that once I release the tbhk au)

#daily updates #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #ender writes #six the musical tbhk au #Toilet bound K Howard

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kinderes · 5 years ago

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hello!! guess who’s finally putting together a fic rec list!! it’s me! :D mostly bc I’m so bad at keeping track of my favourite fics skdlsd but!! I thought I’d share the list in case anyone needs some new fics to read (or old ones?? I dug a lil for some of these!!), also I’ll be hopefully updating as I find new ones!!

also!! I haven’t mentioned the warnings for each of them, but please make sure to check before you start reading!! especially since many of them get kinda dark in places!

(under the cut bc this got a lil long oops-)

college!au by @princelogical (link)

will I ever stop talking about this and re-reading it? no!! marin is so good at pulling me into this world and making me feel so many gosh darn things! this is a human/college au that does an amazing job of exploring the boys and their various issues throughout their time at college, and it goes into some kinda dark stuff but the boys..... they’re so good and I love them ;u;

silence and duality by @parkersanders (link)

am I biased bc I helped a little in planning it out? yes!! but also it’s still really good and I’m always amazed how friendo came up w/ this idea before dark sides were even a thing!! basically a dark side was locked away when thomas was young but now he’s back! parker is my boy pls appreciate him

chivalry is dead by @imnotcameraready (link)

lemme tell you, I was constantly awaiting updates for this one once I’d binged through the chapters that were already posted!! if you love roman angst, a good old-fashioned adventure in the mindscape and some dlamp goodness you’ll probably love this!!

shatter by @rose-gold-roman (link)

I only read this one one a few days ago but it’s already one of my favourites!! some dark side!logan and a lot of good deceit content that made me v. soft?? don’t get me wrong though, you’re gonna be on the edge of your seat!!

casting shadows by @altruistic-skittles (link)

this is a callout for cat bc I wanted to only chose one work from each author but she made it super difficult by being talented ;u; in this one roman’s feeling underappreciated and accidentally wishes for some things he doesn’t really want to happen! this one’s more roman angst, but there’s also plenty of angst to go around for the whole family!! yay! :D

lovely, dark and deep by @teacupfulofstarshine (link)

merpeople!! analogical!! cute family content!! it’s wonderfully written and if you have any interest in at least one of the previously mentioned things, I guarentee you will love it!!

love and other fairytales by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors (link)

pretty much the ultimate fae au!! it’s beautiful and full of good, sweet lamp content!! also plenty of oneshots to accompany the main story, so you’re gonna be busy w/ this one for a while! c:

both foul and fair by @lovelylogans (link)

this list exists solely for this fic bc I think about it so often but I always forget what it’s called gosh darn it ;u; also v. self indulgent bc I love me some good ‘patton being comforted’ content! a good wintery fic!!

the butterfly effect by @stillebesat (link)

human!au roman gets the chance to change 3 decisions in his past and proceeds to make me v. proud of him!! and yes this is more roman angst bc you know what I love almost as much as roman? seeing roman suffer c;

that’s just how siblings are by @doctor-gloom (link)

you ever crave that good creativitwins content?? then this is exactly what you’re looking for!! roman keeps showing up injured and remus is a good brother!!

homeward by @today-only-happens-once (link)

a christmas fic!! virgil gets stuck without a way home for christmas and him and roman go on a lil roadtrip!! it’s v. cute and sweet and wholesome!!

things we lost in those we loved by @notafeeling (link)

virgil-centric lamp that takes place in a universe where people are informed on the day they’re going to die - be warned, this one doesn’t have a happy ending!! in fact it is v. sad and will probably definitely make you cry ;u;

lo stesso tempo by lganc (link)

a cute lil platonic logince fic where they both play piano and start off competitive but eventually become friends!! c:

#fic recs #i... didn't realise how much roman angst there would be #also i'm probably eventually gonna have more than one fic per author bc #gosh y'all are talented and i feel bad leaving out a few fics ;u;

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gosatsuvns · 4 years ago

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Weekly Update Compilation

Just realized that I kinda neglected the weekly updates here on Tumblr (sorry about that!), so I'll compile the last few right here:

Weekly Update #328: CG & BGM Progress

This past week, I've focused on drawing the "dead body" CG for GENBA no Kizuna, which is quite an undertaking to say the least. I've made a lot of progress on it, but there's still some work left to be done. It took me quite a while to figure out the exact perspective and angle. Thankfully, being married has its perks, so I got Kuna to take a bunch of reference pictures of me while I was lying on the floor, pretending to be dead, haha. That definitely helped tremendously.

Still, the details are going to give me another headache for sure. We're talking about a guy who got eaten by a T-Rex after all, so there's a lot going on in terms of, well... damage.

Anyway, every now and then, I've also continued working on the outline for Withering Without Hope. And speaking of which, I have just released a new Patreon post, delving into the topic of how Broken Beyond Despair sets up and dictates the direction for its sequel.

If you're curious about the changes I felt were necessary in our recent anniversary update, be sure to check it out!

Next week, I'm planning to make another post talking about the time in between BBD and WWH and what exactly happens there. There is quite a gap between October 30 and December 23 after all...

Now, in other news, I've been working with Solo, our composer, on a new BGM track for GENBA. I've already received a first preview of it and it sounds amazing! Can't wait to hear the full version and share it. This time, we're tackling another investigation theme, specifically for the segments you will play as Rei.

That kinda wraps up this week's progress report. I'll get back to working on that CG now, so please enjoy the rest of your weekend and, until next Saturday, take care! :3

Weekly Update #327: BGs, CGs, Sprites & WWH

After a bit more BG work, I have finally finished a variation for the 1st Floor Main Hall and one for the 2nd Floor Main Hall. That now only leaves one more variation of the 1st floor and all the necessary BGs for the first three chapters of GENBA are done! Hopefully, I can get to that soon, but first of all, I've decided to tackle the "dead body" CG instead, as it is kinda tied to that BG.

Basically, after recovering the body from the Rex jaws, it will be spread out in the main hall and you will be able to catch a glimpse of it on the missing variation of the 1st floor background. At least that's the plan, but I think drawing the CG first will better help me understand what exactly and how much needs to be visible on said BG.

The CG is kind of intimidating to think about, as it is going to be the most difficult to draw by far. As a result, I've been pushing it off for a while now, but I figured, if I get it out of the way now, that'll be a big relief, haha. I've actually started working on it a while ago, doing some initial sketches. You will see almost the entire body lying on the floor. It's going to be an interactive CG too, meaning that players will be able to click all over the body in order to examine it. As you can imagine, it's going to be a very crucial asset towards solving the mystery death at the Kaseki residence, so it will require a lot of attention to detail.

My goal is to finish it by the end of the month, so I have just about a week left, which will hopefully be enough!

Outside of finishing those BG variations and getting back into the body CG, I've been working on some more sprite variations for Keiichi and Amber. Unfortunately, I kinda suffered a setback of sorts by accidentally deleting one of Amber's new sprites "orz Thankfully, I still had the low quality preview I posted on Patreon, so I was able to restore it, even if that was kind of an annoying and rather frustrating occurrence...

I have to doublecheck with the script, but this might be it in terms of sprites for the first chapter, too. In the end, Keiichi only got one new one, depicting him with a somewhat worried expression:

Now, one other thing I've been working on is Withering Without Hope. With the Christmas season drawing near, I'm really getting into the mood for it, so I've been working on the outline for the first chapter. I'd like to continue working on this on the side and hopefully finish at least the entire first chapter outline before the end of the year. The goal here is to have the full script for the game done by the time GENBA will be released.

If you're a patron, you should keep your eyes open, as I'm also going to share some behind-the-scenes info for WWH soon! Been wanting to do that for a while now and just haven't gotten around to it...

Anyway, guess that about wraps it up for today so, please enjoy the rest of your weekend and, until next Saturday, take care! :3

Weekly Update #326: GENBA Background Progress

Alright, after a bit more work, I have finally finished the background for the second floor of the main hall and, along with it, adjusted the other two main hall BGs. If you want to learn more about my struggles with these, be sure to check out last week's blog post where I talk a little about visual consistency. I've also made a post on my private Twitter, showcasing the differences between the old and the new version of the first floor main hall. As for the second floor, here's another preview for that one as well:

Now, what's left are the variations of these two BGs, which I've also worked on. One variation for each of them is almost done as well, just missing one last detail which I'll take care of tomorrow. That will leave only one more variation for the first floor background, which will display a couple more pieces of evidence. As mentioned last week, once these are done, we're gonna be good on backgrounds for a while. That's because the second chapter will not need any new BGs, as no new locations inside the residence will be visited. As for chapter 3, the mid-point case discussion... that one will take place entirely in the exhibition room featured at the end of our demo. So no new BGs for that one either!

Well, I did mention before that I'm playing with the idea of making one more simple BG for said exhibition room. Since the cast will spent quite a while there, discussing the mysteries (think of the dining hall in SHINRAI), it would probably be nice to get some visual variety. However, as I don't deem this to be an "essential background", it's a bit lower on my priority list. For now, I just want to focus on the assets that are absolutely necessary to tell the story. And when we talk about "essential" backgrounds, there are actually only four left now: the wash room, the back corridor, the backyard and one of the suspect rooms.

Before I get to any of those, I'm still aiming to finish all the assets for the first chapter, though. Which (BG variations aside) now only leaves a couple of sprite variations and two CGs. One of those is going to be very elaborate, though, so it will probably take me a while to get it done. I'll most likely work on it next month and, for the rest of November, take care of the sprites and script revisions.

Anyway, that about sums up the current progress. Time to get back to work, so please enjoy the rest of your weekend and, until next Saturday, take care! :3

#shinrai #genba #visual novel #visualnovel #visual novel development #vn #evn #vndev #game development #gamedev #indie game #indiedev #indie #Ren'Py #renpy #interactive fiction #murder mystery #detective game

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kinktae · 5 years ago

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The penultimate part🥺 I’m not ready to say goodbye, Bitchin!Jungkook has definitely been one of my fav characterizations of him that I’ve ever read. Thank you so much for sharing your work with all of us💖

bitchin 9 asks bc i suck

sapphireprinces5 said: bitchin’ pt9 was just so beautiful?? the way you explained the emotions and interactions between the characters was just amazing!! I felt myself hanging on every word wow excited for the end but will miss bitchin’ so much 🤧

Anonymous said: TAEHYUNG AND YARA SIGN ME UP GURL!!!!

Anonymous said: Like I just feel like if Jk really liked y/n he wouldn’t have slept with Kiri, you know? It shouldn’t matter that he didn’t know how y/n felt. And it’s obvious that he has feelings for y/n so I just hope that’s something y/n addresses when she talks to him. Don’t settle for less girl! Get you a man who will fight for you regardless 👏 (btw this is not me criticizing how you wrote it in any way! I’m just so invested in the characters and am thinking about how I would feel in this scenario :) )

Anonymous said: I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN WITH YARA AND TAE I FELT IT SO DEEP IN MY BONES IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM 😭😭😭

Anonymous said: Hi! I just binge read bitchin in a day and can I just say that I loved it! I really love the female characters as well, you’ve written them so beautifully 🥺 if I was y/n I wouldn’t be concerned so much about Jk not sleeping with Kiri if he knew the way y/n felt, but rather the fact that if Jk didn’t want to sleep with Kiri, he wouldn’t have, regardless of y/n’s feelings or not. IMO y/n’s feelings shouldn’t be the issue here, but Jk’s should! If I was y/n’s bff that’s what I would tell her LOL

Anonymous said: OH MY GOODNESS! YES !!!! YESSSSS Y.E.S Muchas graciaaaas!!!

Anonymous said: tae and yara are my new ship)

unknowntalesx said: okay but like tae and yara thooO they got me all smiley being like oh yeah bayyybeEE das what im talking about 😏 ALSO OKAY NOW THAT I AM MORE LUCID KIRI GOT FUCKING WRECKED I LOVED THAT SHE GOT A DOSE OF HER OWN MANIPULATIVE MEDICINE I AM 😤😤😤😤😤

Anonymous said: im not ready for bitchin to end )):

Anonymous said: I SCREAMED WHEN Y/N TOLD KIRI THE TRUTH. YES QUEEN. STAB AND TWIST THE KNIFE!

Anonymous said: ROSE AHHSHSJSKSD FUCK U I’m all hot and bothered with anticipation for pt 10 now 😩😩😩🥵

sydney--chan said: We really stan y/n for using her big ol brain to rock kiris world oh my god I yelled also I say what's your damage all the time bring that shit back

Anonymous said: a tae x yara spin off series or one shot...... haha jk..... unless..... 👀

Anonymous said: Fuck kiri's scheming ass. I'm glad YN ripped her a new one

Anonymous said: AAHHHHHH once again, I love this chapter so much!!!! I was screaming at Yara and Tae part. Seriously!!!! I am SURE she felt that spark when he kissed her. Is she going to be the one falling for the guy while he wants something casual now? Or maybe Tae will fall for her as well? Ahhhh so cute! I feel like that would be a nice spin off yk (no pressure, I swear). And Erik, woah I didn't expect him to be like that. To be so nice and wise. Great character development indeed! It was really nice (1/2)

Anonymous said: To see their interaction and the way he opened her eyes (for some reason I couldn't help but picture him as Namjoon). Ohhh the Kiri part tho!!!! I felt really petty but in the best way lol. Anywaysss I am really excited for the last chapter (really sad too) and I am sure it is going to be the best because you are a genius! Thank you for sharing another amazing chapter with us! ♥♥♥ (2/2)

Anonymous said: OKAY I absolutely adored Bitchin part 9 😻 I always thought that it was also OC fault for what happened between her and jk, he obviously was the main jerk but she never actually admitted her feelings to him and he doesn't read minds so??¿¿? Really loved that she came to understand it. And I was rooting SO MUCH for yara and tae MAN I AM CRYING THEY DESERVE IT 🙌🏻

Anonymous said: you came through with the tae x yara content we all needed omg thank you!! if anyone’s gonna make yara fall in love it’s tae lol

Anonymous said: I honestly lowkey hate bitchin’ jungkook right now. I thought I’d get over it but I just can’t imagine how hurt and disgusted Y/N was when she found out that jk and kiri were together just hours before they were like ugh. It doesn’t help that I’m also really interested in Erik’s character development now so it would’ve been really interesting to see how he’d fit in Y/N’s life. 🥺

Anonymous said: jungkook and y/n wANT what yara and tae have

Anonymous said: TAEYARA YES FINALLY OUR WISHES HAVE BEEN ANSWERED 😍😍

Anonymous said: just want to let you know you’re an absolute angel and all you create is nothing short of perfection. *sends you all of the love*

spring2787 said: I jus came from a 4 hour long class and it's finally here... Thank you so much dear 🎂 💜

Anonymous said: Is yara me ? Like when she said that boy act like they understand the no string involved but then fall in love , dude I felt that , that's literally the story of my life lmaoooo Like the number of time a dude told me yeah I'm okay with that and then acted shocked when I told him I didn't feel anything for him is impressive lmaoo Anyway I'm so eager for the last chapter!!!! you did an amazing job!!

kuhweenbri said: The way I already finished but anyways girl I absolutely loved this part and now I’m excited for the next part 😭😭 will we be seeing more of T-ara??

Anonymous said: OMG YARA AND TAEEEEEEEEE. NOW I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU MEANT BY FANSERVICE. JSJSJSJJSBXBSBSB But on a serious note, this fic just keeps on getting better. The fact that there's only one chapter left still hasn't come home to me 😭 but thank you so much for blessing us with this!💜💜

Anonymous said: YO! bitchin is flippin brilliant! you have done so well! jungkook broke my heart in part 9! im emotional but also so ready for part 10! please take your time. have a lovely day

Anonymous said: i don’t normally talk to writers on here but bitchin is really bitchin, i haven’t read a fanfic in so long that makes me excited to read the next part and maybe it’s because i’m so used to all of the aus being recycled but bitchin is truly a breathe of fresh air to me for some reason, maybe because you fleshed out the right hand mans for both characters idk or the it being a different time period, but i just wanted to say you are smashing bitchin dude and i love it!!

shy-kpop-girl said: BITCHIN': I just caught up on 8 & 9. Shocked & angry at JK. Because regardless of whether he knew y/n' feelings it was a dick move to sleep with Kiri one night and y/n the next morning. And it wasn't like he came over to talk/tell y/n about Kiri & things escalated because he went right at it as soon as she let him in. Even tho it was hot. 😳 But Erik. I wanted to hate him but dude surprised me with his reasoning. I loved that dialogue! Once again your writing is amazing & I love this story!

Anonymous said: Bitchin is the best fanfic on tumblr. And no one can change my mind. You’re doing amazing!! Much love xoxo

Anonymous said: “Think of life as one big puzzle and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow… they fit. We find those that complete us. And they’re not necessarily opposites but—“ MAAM that part hit SOOO different omg your brain!?! Outta this world! Like this is whole ass literature!!!! I stg Bitchin’ is the best thing on this app and I meant that w my whole chest.

Anonymous said: I'm not ready for Bitchin to end. It's soooooo good 😍😍😍

kmultifandom said: Since there's a cast for bitchin I wanna audition for y/n because i wanna be a biologist and I have some similar personality traits *mic drop* Also great work, I seriously love it. No other fan fiction I have read was so close to my actual self and that impresses me even more and make it like it 10 times more djksksks

Anonymous said: how will I live when bitchin ends agghhh I haven’t even read 8-9 cause I’m waiting for the happy ending before I’m heartbroken and left waiting for the last part

Anonymous said: you know what would be super fun and crazy 😛😛🙈🙈 if you dropped bitchin’ pt 10 right now 😳😳 haha just kidding .... unless 😏😏

Anonymous said: lets gooooo!!!!!!!!!!! bitchin pt 10 better haunt me for the rest of the year

Anonymous said: I feel like I’m going to get so emotional once Bitchin’ part 10 is released. It’s like I’m sending off my non-existing kids to university because I won’t be able to see Bitchin!Jungkook anymore 🥺

Anonymous said: I can’t believe Bitchin’ is for real ending 😩 it’s soo gud

Anonymous said: Can’t wait till bitchin PART 10 Probably gonna fall asleep before u post but I’ll try to stay up for it 🥺

Anonymous said: i love your writing honestly and i just really want you to be happy. your writing is immaculate and i really want you to know that you are talented and skilled so yeah. sorry if this is out of nowhere but i just really want to show appreciation to writers because they don't get enough and you are definitely my favorite writer:)) hope you have a good day!!

Anonymous said: okay but if Bitchin' goes on for 50 chapters that would be good too.. just sayin'.

tpo-quinn said: Bruh, I can already feel that I'm gonna cry from the last chapter of bitchin'...I CAN'T WAIT!

leojjeon said: so i've re-read bitchin ready for chapter 10 an I am feeling all sorts of emotions. it's fair to say it's my favourite series I've read!

Anonymous said: y did i forget bitchin would have an end like 😳😐we’ve been on this bitchin journey w u for so long i’m sad it’s over

Anonymous said: What what what?? Bitchin is ending??!!! Didnt it just fucking start like all the drama and tae&yara!!!! Omg girl!!!

Anonymous said: ur the absolute fucking GODDESS of writing angst, ive never ever waited for a ff to be updated before as if it was a new episode of my fav show coming out. thank u for writing and be so active, muah ur amazing

Anonymous said: a moment of silence for our loved bitchin who will die soon 😔 gone but not forgotten, she will always be in our hearts. all the best rides come to an end 😭

#ask

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borisbubbles · 5 years ago

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Eurovision 2010s: 15 - 11

15. Ieva Zasimauskaitė - “When we’re old” Lithuania 2018

youtube

[2018 Review here]

~wen wir owld HOOOOOOOOOOOO~

So close to the endgame it’s time to open all of the emotional registers. Much like Hovi, I did not expect to love Ieva as much as I do, however unlike Hovi I had already fully embraced Ieva and “When we’re old” long before rehearsals started.

And for good reason because Ieva fucking disarms me every time without fail. She herself is of course a hilarious, relatably weirdo indie girl, this time in the guise of a Born Again Hindu who ~FELT A COSMIC PRESENCE~ on the stage with her. 😍 Telling the true story of how she overcame depression by falling in love with her hubby. Flanked by holograms that project Ieva’s life dream: to be happy and grow old with the love of her life. All my hopeless romantic triggers are activated by this song. ALL OF THEM.

People are generally divided on Ieva’s voice, but um hello welcome to BorisBubbles. I ranked Nina Kralic and Jana Burcheska hellow-high. I LOVE Ieva’s husky, nasal, ovine, falsetto whine of a voice. It makes “When we’re old” for me. Ieva injects so much vulnerability and authenticity into a song that whenever she performs it, all I can do is sit in silence, tears welling up in my eyes, bleating along with the WHAOHHHHHs. Time truly stands still during “When we’re old” and I’m speechless.

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14. Conchita Wurst - “Rise like a phoenix” Austria 2014

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You can be damn’ sure the highest ranked powerballad on this list is “Rise like a phoenix”. It isn’t as much as a song as it is an INSTITUTION.

Which is why, symbollically, “Phoenix” is a very important winner. It’s a plight for overcoming hate, for overcoming bullying, from being yourself in the face and of adversity and rising from the ashes reborn, reinvented, reinvigorated. Its presentation is provocative, yet secondary, putting vocals and song on the foreground. It is rooted in the political zeitgeist of its winners, like most modern winners, obviously,

however, ask yourself this:

Would “Phoenix” have won if it hadn’t been a great performance of a great song?

I don’t think it would have. Take away the powerful composition and leave just the politically correct message, and you get Bilal Hassani. Take away the beard and you have, well, a really good song bond theme by a talented vocalist, that probably would’ve finished top ten, if not top five in most years.

It’s easy to get distracted by Tom’s stick because a “Bearded drag queen” provides a lot of cognitive dissonance, which I personally love because it forces me to think, keeping my mind sharp. The use of a gimmick does NOT cheapen the talent on display here, however. Tom’s delivery of the song is flawless, hitting every note, delivering both ‘feminine’ nuturing comfort and ‘masculine’ strength to his glorious song. He even throws in some small nuggets of fierceness, providing levity, reminding us of Conchita’s drag queen roots

The act is cut from the same professional cloth; it is maybe a tad provocative, but at it’s core it remains dignified and classy, maintaining a moral high ground that instantly sheds a bad light on any hater. You may pull her down, but she’s gonna FLYYYYY.

Conchita Wurst is the best winner of this decade, period. No winning performance is as ironclad, vocally, musically or stagingwise as hers. No other winner has shown as much raw performance talent as she has. No winner has been able to make such a statement while at their core maintaining a high-quality musical standard. No winner has been such a champion of those whose voices are trampled for being different. To use Conchita’s own words after she won: “WE ARE UNITY. AND *WE* ARE UNSTOPPABLE.”

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13. Zlata Ognevich - “Gravity” Ukraine 2013

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This is the last female fronted act from 2013, you know what that means: EPIC ENTRANCE TIME 😍

What a beautiful dreamscape. I felt bad ranking Elina Nechayeva in a fairly low 39th place, but honestly, “Gravity” vibes very similarly and does the same things a lot better: Breathtakingly regal woman, a mirage of near-divine grace, stunning visual effects... SIGN ME UP ALREADY. At the core we of course find Zlata, the winner of the Best Human Award in 2013. Zlata’s backstage bits were rife with personality facts that instantly endeared her to me. A praraphrased selection from her infinitely quotable interview gold: ”I PRACTICE BIG VOICE BY HOLDING BREATH UNDERWATER”; “I COME FROM PLACE IT’S CALLED CRIMEA, IS LARGE ::reads from online dictionary:: PEN...EEN...SYOO..LA(?) WITH BIG MOUNTAIN AND LARGE SEA ^_^”; “I LOVE UNICORN IS FAVOURITE ANIMAL”. GODDESS. 😍

Fortunately her overpoweringly loud, yet disarmingly weird personality is also omnipresent during her big screen performance. “Gravity” is a mirage of Disney mojo and Zlata absolutely fucking hits it like A SHTRIKE OF DUNDAR

I don’t think I’ve ever listened to a song that is legit quotable at every interval? There is not a single line in “Gravity” that doesn’t bring out the bedroom karaoke: “IMMA LIIIKA BADDERFLYYYYY.” “NOTHING COMES FROM PRIDE, -*HAYLALE*” “NOW I FEEL NO FEEEEE-AAAAAAR.“

And I’m not even done because Gravity ALSO features an excellent backing choir (the male backing vocalist is incredible). It’s just a perfect example of world music, conjuring three minutes of pure, unicorn-endorsed magic. IMMA LIIIKE A BADDERFLYYYYY. 🦋

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12. Juliana Pasha - “It’s all about you” Albania 2010

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YUARDAWAN 😀 YUGIMMEDATSAMTINANEED 😀 ITZMI 😀 ENDAMFOLIN 😀

We are at #12, which means we’re at that Olympian milestone where every entity ranked is a fucking supernatural force. In Juliana’s case a forced of pure, unfiltered, streechy harpism. 😍 It is so weird to think that she was the first of Albania’s now iconic ‘Shrieking Boss Hag” archetype because it feels like a alliance older than time, sealed and styled in cuneiform onto a shard of Sumerian pottery, blessed by the Annunaki and then embedded into the muddy banks of the Euphrates.

Anyway, Juliana earned my HEART once she greeted us with her uncanny-valleyesque diction and cheshire-catesque leering, all YUARDAWAN! and proceeded to throw everything, both vocally and facialexpressionly, into the mix, in ascending degrees of deafening loudness. 😍

With a criminally addictive electronic schlager song too boot! One which, like Zlata features an INCREDIBLE supporting cast in a bangin’ gospel choir, as well as a very generous dollop of ❤ ELECTRONIC VIOLA REALNESS ❤

One of the fave musicians of NaziPope, btw. “It’s all about you” is such a Triumpf of the Shrill. 😍

Anyway, this high quality list of ingredients make for a very replayable ride that never spoils or grows stale, no matter how often I listen to it. Which is actually a lot. I’ve looped “It’s all about you” at countless occasions since 2010, making it perhaps the song on this list that I have to the MOST often. (Or second most because there IS a song I still have to rank that may challenge Juliana for that title.) If that ain’t a hallmark for quality, I don’t know what is.

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11. Koza Mostra ft. Agathonas Iakovidis - “Alcohol is free” Greece 2013

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Has life been letting you down? Have you been struck by a financial crisis? Do you no longer know how to continue living. Fear not, because :cracks knuckles: we are about to embark on a MASTERCLASS of unabashed drunken REVELRY:

Um a small disclaimer though. This song has a really really, really, REALLY irresponsible title. DO NOT at any circumstance use alcohol as a coping mechanism, engage in drunk driving or other activities under influence that you may life to regret later, if you live to regret it later. Also don’t drink if you’re underage. Also also, alcohol can cause obesity and cardio-vascular arrest. and cancer, possibly. Drink, but do so RESPONSIBLY.

HOWEVER, what if this song is... a PSA???😈 An Anti-Crisis PSA that is, lol. A group of folk hipsters literally PARTYING AWAY the misery of the financial crisis in a delightfully self-deprecating fashion is just the pinacle of fun for me and Koza Mostra fucking ROLL with it. Watching them dart out in all wind directions, interacting with each other gives me LIFE.

It’s exactly that sort of industriousness which sets “Alcohol is free” apart from other party songs. There is a LOT of randomness going on in the background and it gives you ZERO time to process all of it, making every rewatch an easter egg hunt.

This approach to staging usually doesn’t work, but here it is actually very intelligent and I’ll explain why: The act places a lot of focus on Agathonas (which it should because he’s the lead singer despite his featured status), but by the same token offers constant distraction by all the Koza Mostra shenanigans in the background... In other words, it’s an act that forces your attention away from the main event by confusing your senses, requesting all of you concentration keep up with everything that’s going on... which is actually a brilliantly accurate simulation of how 'being drunk’ works.

(btw if you listen closely you can hear the sound of Agathonas tapping his skull lol <3)

So the next time you listen to this song, pour yourself a drink (ONE drink!) sit back and embark on a Waldo-esque hunt to see how many beautiful nuggets you can find hidden in that splendid act, as the upbeat sirtaki madness fills your head with cloudy thoughts. As far as I’m concerned, Koza Mostra have WON the Eurovision Fun Contest.

EVERYONE RISE AND APPLAUD THE 10 BEST ENTRIES IN THIS DECADE:

From now on, I’ll only include maximum 2 songs per update :o

And in this update we finally say goodbye to Greece, Albania, Ukraine, Austria and Lithuania. Read my thoughts on them, below:

LITHUANIA

Lithuania was hands down the worst country in the 00s and look at their chart now. They are slowly getting their shit together and it shows. Keep on going, darlings!!

AUSTRIA

God Austria are so boring. At least they occasionally provide us with a great entry here or there, but they’re so inconsistent in their entertainment. 2 great - 6 okay - 1 terrible is NOT a great ratio by any means.

UKRAINE

ALBANIA

Albania are very hit-or-miss, but I really like their presence in Eurovision actually. Like Georgia they entries are so left-field that they are always *interesting* even when they’re not good. Except “Fairytale”. Fuck “Fairytale”.

GREECE

Fuck this decade was ROUGH for Greece. They are a shattered nation and if you think this chart is bad, let me remind you that their best result in the past five contests is 19th place. Same in fact, as San Marino’s highest and lower than the highest placements of Albania, Montenegro, Slovenia, UK, Ireland, North Macedonia,...

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theradioghost · 5 years ago

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what books did u get ? i rly need to get back into reading more now school is over

oh man. so I’ll give you what I bought & then I’m also gonna throw in some similar books that I have already read just because I can actually vouch for the quality of those

(brief note that my main qualifications when I was looking for books, besides not wanting YA, was that 1. they were not about straight cis white men and/or 2. they had particular appeal to one of the areas of sf&f that I have a particular fondness for and/or 3. they cost under five bucks. so there’s a lot of diverse lit, and a lot of novellas, and a lot of urban fantasy wizards who are also detectives/rebellious angels and or demons/necromancy/dragons/stuff that is explictly Lovecraftian adaptations but takes the piss out of Lovecraft/anything on this list/anything published by Tor)

new books that I have read:

(coming back to update this as I get through these books)

the Lovelace & Wick series by Jennifer Rainey – this is the Demon Husbands one I’ve been yelling about. Two gentleman demons in love – a Faustian tempter and a bringer of catastrophes – are growing increasingly dissatisfied with the work they do for hell, while also being forced to contend with new and dangerous enemies. Set in a vaguely-steampunk 1890s Massachusetts. Also includes monster-hunting steampunk scientist lesbian wives.

Deadline by Stephanie Ahn – fourteen months after a disastrous failed ritual, disgraced blood witch Harrietta Lee gets offered a ridiculously lucrative job quietly recovering a stolen artifact for a young member of a powerful magical family, and promptly finds out that this is too good to be true. Also she keeps meeting scary, hot women. Instantly the only wisecracking urban fantasy PI named Harry that my heart has any room for. (This one’s a bit Spicier than my usual fare but the author actually includes a list of content warnings including page numbers at the front of each book, which you can view with the preview option on the Amazon page.)

Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw – A kid hires London PI John Persons to kill his stepfather. The first catch is that the stepfather is a Lovecraftian horror. The second catch is that Persons is too. This is like, the noir-est horror I’ve ever read and that’s something I am very into.

The Haunting of Tram Car 015 by P. Djeli Clark – An urban fantasy police procedural set in an alternate 1912 Cairo, in which two government officials are sent to deal with a strange, malevolent spirit in the midst of political upheaval as Egypt’s women demand universal suffrage. There’s a free short story prequel to this on tor.com called “A Dead Djinn in Cairo“ that’s worth reading first.

Three Parts Dead by Max Gladstone – high fantasy with a black protagonist, in which Tara Abernathy, a disgraced magic user and rookie associate in an internationally renowned necromancy firm, is assigned to resurrect a city’s murdered patron fire god – but first, with the help of a chain-smoking priest and a vampire-addicted servant of Justice Herself, she has to track down his killer.

River of Teeth by Sarah Gailey – in an alternate history where the 1910 “Hippo Bill” passed, Winslow Remington Houndstooth, an ex-rancher out for revenge, is hired to travel north with a ragtag crew – a con artist and pickpocket, a demolitions expert with a proclivity for poisoning, the most dangerous contract killer in the country, and the very man who ruined his life – and take on the dangers of the massive swamp that was once the Mississippi river, a place ruled over by deadly feral hippos and a homicidal riverboat gambling king.

or, essentially, a swamp-based heist Western with a cast including a British-East Asian bisexual man, a black nb person, an unashamedly fat woman, and a pregnant Latina lesbian, and also their pet hippos. Listen just go ahead and get the version with both stories in it

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh – Tobias has lived in the woods as long as anyone can remember; long enough that the nearby town tells stories of the Green Man, the spirit-king of the forest, who dwells in the trees. These stories are truer, and far more dangerous, than anyone but Tobias knows – so when friendly, handsome, curious Henry Silver buys up the neighboring Greenhollow Hall and starts investigating the local folklore, Tobias will have to decide whether to sacrifice the only life he has known for centuries, or the first person he has loved in all that time.

not-new books that I have read:

idk if you don’t know about the Wayfarers series, the first of which is The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet, but it is an absolutely stellar bit of sci-fi very much based around ideas of found family and discovering your own identity and place in the universe and love and compassion and stories based around sweet slice-of-life stuff in a scifi universe with lots of fun aliens and it is so very queer and so very heartwarming and all three books (which each have different casts, although the characters in all three are connected to one another and sort of cameo across all the books) are fantastic.

Urban Dragon by J.W. Troemner – Dragons are supposed to be ruthless, unpredictable, deadly, selfish creatures. So why is it that Rosa Hernandez seems to be able to keep her best friend Arkay in check? How did Arkay, a shape-changing dragon with lightning at her command, end up being found alone and starving and with no memory of her past by a homeless woman? And as evidence mounts that someone is hunting down supernatural beings, who can they trust? (I stumbled across this while looking for urban fantasy on TV Tropes and BOY am I glad I did. Good if you like close friendships between queer women or the enemies-to-lovers trope)

The Merry Spinster by Daniel Mallory Ortberg – of course I was going to read Daniel Ortberg’s short story collection, are you kidding me. Not “””darker””” fairy tale retellings, but fairy tales as often very surreal, psychological horror. Read this if you want to totally ruin “The Velveteen Rabbit” for yourself.

The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker – historical fantasy set in the early-20th-century Orthodox Jewish and Middle Eastern immigrant communities of NYC, about the strange friendship that springs up between a bitter jinn trapped in a mortal body and a masterless golem living among humans. and it gave me feelings.

The Ballad of Black Tom by Victor LaValle – a retelling of H.P. Lovecraft’s short story “The Horror at Red Hook” from the perspective of a black man. One of the better pieces of horror I have ever read.

Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff – a very different take on a similar concept to The Ballad of Black Tom, wherein a mid-century black Midwestern family find themselves mixed up in the plans of a bunch of cultists and set out to disentangle themselves from this whole cosmic-horror mess. Apparently Jordan Peele is adapting this into a TV show, so I’m stoked for that.

new books that I have not read:

(& also a couple that are just books I want, and some that I just haven’t read yet but got free from the Tor monthly ebook club, which is very much worth joining)

Armed in Her Fashion by Kate Heartfield– I’m just going to let the official blurb speak for this one because there is absolutely no way I could improve on it

The Black God’s Drums by P. Djeli Clark – New Orleans-based steampunk fantasy about an airship captain and a stowaway who talks to orishas.

Rupert Wong, Cannibal Chef by Cassandra Khaw – Apparently several authors have written standalone works in this series, and Cassandra Khaw’s aren’t chronologically the first, but I love Cassandra Khaw and “chef for ghouls and pencil-pusher for the Ten Chinese Hells is forced to solve an inter-pantheon murder mystery” just sounds so good to me.

Bones and Bourbon by Dorian Graves – Cursed half-huldra PI is forced to help out his little brother and the demon who shares his body, and then everything goes wrong. Feat. carnivorous unicorns.

Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Cordova – reluctant bruja attempts to rid herself of her magic and instead plunges her entire family into magical trouble. YA.

Robbergirl by S. T. Gibson – WLW retelling of The Snow Queen from the perspective of the bandit princess. YA.

Passing Strange by Ellen Klages – slightly-fantastical historical lesbian noir novella set in the burgeoning 1940s gay club scene in San Francisco.

The Black Tides of Heaven by JY Yang – admittedly caught my eye because the cover art reminded me of Moribito, which I adore. East-Asian-inspired epic fantasy which I believe has a nonbinary protagonist.

Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire – I’ve been neglecting getting around to October Daye way, way too long considering how much I love Seanan McGuire and urban fantasy, but my mom started reading this and that pushed me over the edge because damn it, yes I want to read her take on the Wizard Detective genre that I have such a weakness for.

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson – this was recommended to me in a Tumblr post listing interesting, diverse fantasy, and I’ve been into high fantasy political intrigue lately.

The Paper Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg – came across this in a Twitter thread about fantasy worlds with unconventional and interesting magic systems. A newly graduated student of magic is bitter about being sent to learn paper-crafting magic rather than working with metal, until Murder Stuff Happens. YA.

Miranda in Milan by Katharine Duckett – queer fantasy sequel to The Tempest, with Miranda as protagonist.

Witchmark by C. L. Polk – post-WWI gaslamp fantasy MLM romance about a male witch in hiding, working as a doctor; the reviews seem to indicate people think it’s more ‘delightful’ than ‘literary’ but apparently it is pretty fucking delightful.

In the Vanisher’s Palace by Aliette de Bodard– East Asian WLW retelling of Beauty and the Beast and also one of them is a dragon.

Winter Tide by Ruthanna Emrys – another one of the rash of new Lovecraft adaptations that are turning perspectives around, this being one where the citizens of Innsmouth are the protagonists. Also has a really good short story prequel you can read for free on tor.com.

also I just feel like mentioning that I’m stupidly excited for Gideon the Ninth by Tamsin Muir to come out this fall because the review they’ve decided to put at the top of every blurb is “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space!” (not my exclamation mark) and I don’t know how anyone could more perfectly craft something to my tastes.

#bobbie recommends things #astronauticality #asks #my posts

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comicteaparty · 5 years ago

Text

February 26th-March 3rd, 2020 Reader Favorites Archive

The archive for the Reader Favorites chat that occurred from February 26th, 2020 to March 3rd, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

What generally makes the pacing of a comic too fast or too slow for you?

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

My favourite comic style are those large sized, panel and dialogue heavy European comic books, line Blacksad and Asterix. Since every 80 page book tells a complete story, every page is progressing the plot significantly, and the whole thing is pretty compressed and the rate splash page has an impact you don’t get in a more lose, decompressed comic. I love that kind of stuff and I look for similiar pacing in webcomics - heavier on the dialogue but without choking the art, low on wordless scenes (they tend to make me skim), taut and tight story-telling, every page asks and answers a question. I know it‘s a matter of taste and got told more than once that I am too dumb for comics because I don‘t have the patience to read through six pages of wordless, plotless mood-setting; but eh - that kind of stuff just doesn‘t work for me. I firmly believe comic‘s big enough a field that mood pieces and tightly plotted stuff can happily co-exist and find their own readership. I‘m just gonna be in the „plot, all the time!“ corner.

sagaholmgaard

The a comic starts focusing on minor characters that don't hold much importance for the plot I'll find it to be wayy too drawn out. While One-Punch Man is one of my favorite comics, some fights are pretty unimportant for the overarching plot, focusing only on random small-fry heroes fighting random small-fry monsters and it's just... a million action panels for be too read through while waiting for the main cast to return (this turned out to be pretty specific, oops!)

Ash🦀

Honestly, coming from a writing/literature background, I feel that most comics are too fast-paced for me;; I love the slow build up, it makes everything much more rewarding at the end, and the mood-setting that just lets you breathe and stare at the page, yes, a thousand times yes. I guess this is why I don’t like reading or writing actions scenes... so fast-paced and they feel more like “this is action for interesting action and the hero needs exp and not because it’s a necessary battle” ;; but this is more of a personal preference than anything, and... yeah, I definitely blame the books I used to read xD

Capitania do Azar

I'm a little confused with the filler concept introduced here, given that most webcomics are made by individuals (not teams)... What would they even be filling for? I think it's fair to talk about less interesting b-plots or when the scenes are focused on characters we don't like as much, but I would hardly call anything a single artist decided it was worth enough to spend hours drawing by their volition "filler"

As for the pacing question, it is sometimes hard to combine the two facets of webcomics: that they're published on a page-to-page basis but they are often read in bulk, when digging through archives. I don't know if it's possible to find the perfect balance between these two, which makes it possible to think that certain scenes are too slow (oh no, we've been at this wedding for three months now!) but when read in the archive are suddenly too fast... I think breathing room is necessary every now and then, even for faster-paced comics.

RebelVampire

I think you need to consider that just because an artist doesn't see something as filler, doesn't mean readers won't. I've known a lot of comics where the creator created a scene that they loved, but in the bigger scheme of things it served absolutely no purpose to the plot and felt super out of place

So while the filler wasn't intentional as a "I need filler", to the readers it comes off as filler

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

I like long paced, slow- burn type stories where there is an obvious carefully crafted plot with each stitch placed intentionally for a bigger reveal and payoff. Much how i like any relationship shown in stories, i love it when an author almost makes readers work for that payoff. It makes the re-read value go way up, and to catch on to the subtle nuances of plot reveal on the second or third go at the story is very rewarding both as a writer and reader!

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

You can easily have slow burn relationships in a faster paced comic. I actually like that better, because that usually requires the characters to have actions and interests outside of the relationship of interest, which leads to more well rounded characters.

A good example is the novel Clockwork Boys and it‘s follow up - slowburn romance, and while the characters figured THAT one out, they solved a huge mystery.

renieplayerone

Im a big fan of stories that are able to turn the pacing up to 11 on a dime without it getting old or lowering the stakes at all. It takes such talent to be able to tell compelling stories with high flying action at the same time, so I appreciate anyone that can manage that balance

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

My personal approach to writing pacing is that each page has to do at least two of three: further the plot, introduce/deepen story-relevant world building, deepen the characterisation. I aim for all three at once; if there‘s only two, there better be a good reason to keep that scene around, if there‘s only one, it gets cut and/or merged with another one. Eg. I have a scene where the character cook (food‘s relevant because there‘s a famine) and a scene where they argue about their plans, those can easily be combined.

Some scenes are still slower or faster than others, but they all matter to the story.

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

Def agree with Renie on that point too!

Ash🦀

Chalcara makes a good point too, and it’s something I definitely try to keep in mind in my own pages. I try to answer a question and ask another with my pages and pull as much double duty as I can wrench out of it. Now, whether I succeed every time? Absolutely not. But this is a good reminder when I’m going back to edit issue 3- keep the push and pull of questions and answers in mind.

RebelVampire

Ok so at this point I do want to jump in and remind people that as per Rule #1, this chat should mostly be about your experiences as a reader vs. your experiences as a creator. So just want to make sure the convo doesn't delve too far into that realm.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

My answer to this question is very much based on specific situations in comics. Pacing is SUCH a complex thing, and it's not always easy to see the impact in the grand scheme of things. To make a story seem too slow to me, a few things have to happen: the pages/ panels don't further the plot, don't deepen the characters/world-building, or the tension remains consistent for too long. Coming from a theatre background, I sometimes like to refer to this idea as beats. I focus a lot on the importance of every line having purpose. If a character says something, and it doesn't add anything to the experience, then perhaps the dialogue shouldn't be there at all. Or if a panel without dialogue doesn't add anything to the reader experience, the same thing applies. There should be no wasted space. Honestly, I am kind of a sucker for slow build-up (as long as there is actually build-up at all). So I'm not against slow-burn stories. To me, slow-burn shouldn't feel like it's dragging along, or like "nothing is happening," which is a common trap stories fall into. But we as readers need to see those slow moments in order to understand the fast moments too. Which brings me onto pacing that is too fast... Honestly, this is a much bigger problem to me personally. There is this influx in fiction of wanting to have the quickest jump into the action at the beginning of the story, and it always makes me want to stop reading. If the writer doesn't want to have ANY exposition at all or introduce the characters in any meaningful way, how am I as a reader going to give a shit about the characters? That's pretty much an instant story-killer to me. I don't mind if characters are introduced as we go, but completely glossing over them in favor of the biggest explosions never keeps my attention. All in all, I read comics (and fiction in general) for the human experience (which doesn't mean that your characters must be human, lol, fantasy and sci-fi writers).

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

@chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa] Thank you for mentioning that comics are big enough to accommodate all kinds of tastes. What I find to be too fast might be just right or even too slow for another person, and honestly, it's all valid.

FeatheryJustice

I like a coherent story. It doesn't matter if it is slow paced because I get to absorb the information. I don't mind if it is fast paced as long as I can understand it. If the story itself doesn't make sense because you want a slow paced story with weird inserts in the middle, you have lost me. If your story is too fast to the point of skipping scenes and details you lost me.

spacerocketbunny

I love slow building stories with larger payoff. Making sure that characters are fleshed out and given the chance to breathe while still facilitating the plot is a tricky thing to pull off but I've definitely seen it happen in comics like Shaderunners, TINF and Tiger Tiger for example. Shaderunners does an incredible job of showing a multifaceted inner conflict with characters while never missing a beat with super fun and high stake heists. TINF is one of my favourite romance stories that carefully builds up and constructs the characters and their feelings for each other while still maintaining that significant information on every page. Tiger Tiger is a slower paced story but keeps me on the edge of my seat every update. Petra utilizes space beautifully and I never feel like there's a need for condensing on pages. I boost these comics a lot but I personally find that pacing is a huge factor in my enjoyment for a comic, and I love these ones so much bc they suit my preference quite well!

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

There was a Korean professional webcomic (on Naver, though I don't think it ever got officially brought over to Webtoons) that I read, that had this interesting situation: seemingly fast pacing, very high tension, yet slow. It was a thriller that pitted a serial killer against the surviving wife of his latest victim. Once she got an inkling who the killer was, the tension skyrocketed, and it was a big game of chase. Problem was the chase part. It LOOKED fast paced if you just looked at like, one chapter of it. But they kept repeating the same scenario, just flavored differently. It was a rinse-and-repeat of this: "the wife found a new evidence; now everyone will believe her!" "oh no, the killer is about to catch her!" "the new evidence is lost" "wife finds another new evidence" etc. (It's been a while and my memory may not be accurate, but the idea is there) Nothing really changed throughout the repeated cycles. So yeah, repetition can be a problem.

Capitania do Azar

Haha, @keii’ii (Heart of Keol) I understand your frustration, but I feel like that kind of story is just aimed at a different audience... It almost feels like watching an episodic Tv show where everything has to come back to the starting point by the end of each episode

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

That is certainly a type with its own audience. Though if that's what they were going for, they probably could've benefitted from a different way of starting the story so readers would've known what they were in for. And there were lots of things that really felt like could have gone somewhere, but never did.

Hmm, I guess that's another thing that could affect how pacing is perceived: loose threads?

RebelVampire

IDK I think there's a difference between something being episodic and something being annoyingly repetitious. For example, Detective Conan is arguably episodic. Each situation in the larger scheme of things is largely the same: Crime happens -> There are red herrings and twists -> Conan solves it. As a mystery comic, it's never gonna deviate from that formula. But if literally every crime had the basic same plot flow, like if the red herrings and twists were the same everytime, then it ceases to be episodic and just becomes bland and repetitive.(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

OH and speaking of Korean webcomics, I wanna talk about a pacing-related concept that gets brought up a lot in their comment sections: yam vs sprite (they call it "cider" bu they really mean sprite/ 7-up). Baked yam is a common wintertime treat. It fills you up, it's delicious. But it's notorious for making you thirsty. It kind of clogs up & dries up your throat. Whereas sprite is a thirst quencher. So, the idea is you can't eat yams forever. You need sprite to balance it out. Yams are a metaphor for frustrating build-ups. There is a sense that you (and/or the protagonist) are being wronged. e.g. It's a sports comic, and the leader of the opposing team keeps trash talking, even cheats and gets away with it. Sprite is a metaphor for satisfaction. In the same sports comic example, the arrogant, cheating leader finally gets what they deserve. Most stories need its share of yams. But if the yam portion of the story goes on for too long, the comment section will be filled with "where's my sprite!!!" "I feel like I ate 1,000 yams and now REALLY need some sprite" etc.

spacerocketbunny

Ahh that's an interesting concept!

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

There are certainly stories that are big piles of yams by design. But I think when done well, readers who like a lot of sprite can tell what it is, and walk away pretty early on. So those comics attract readers who are into piles of yams.

(Of course, there's always gonna be That One Person who walks into a yam party and loudly demands a 5-gallon bottle of sprite... )

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

In that case, I definitely avoid yams! No matter how much I love a character or cast, I tend to go crazy if we stay in one location too long, or in one slow storyline for too many pages, or if I find myself going "COME ON, DO IT, DO THE THING, WE KNOW YOU'RE GONNA." To me, something new should happen on every page, even if it's a tiny plot progression or a tidbit of character info. I very much appreciate when a story takes time to breathe - and I find it's those quiet, cute, or slightly-unnecessary moments that are most memorable when I think of a comic - but too much of that will make me fidgety. I really need alternating paces to be happy.

kayotics

I think for me, it’s easier for a comic to go too slow than too fast. I’ve definitely seen comics go too fast, but the slow pace is more frustrating for me. What makes a comic slow for me are a few things: too MUCH focus on atmosphere (like multiple hand shots that don’t have dialogue), repeated events, too much buildup for an event, and the last thing is technical ability (like speech bubbles that are too large or in vertical scroll comics the panels being way too far apart). I’m pretty ok with letting things breathe, and I actually love that, but I need something to keep my interest, and those things above don’t do it.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I don't think yams are about repetition, though it can certainly involve repetition. It could be a new level of frustration on every page, revealing something new about the characters. But those would still be yams.

Deo101 [Millennium]

I'm also of the mind that its way easier for comics to go too slow than too fast. However, I think that its also really easy for a comic to introduce too many things too fast, without giving me the time to get to know anyone (contradictory, I know, hear me out) I think a lot of comics will start in a boring setting, before the initial action. It takes a very long time to ramp up to the ACTUAL story, because they want to get me to a baseline of knowledge before we get to all the action. This is really slow though because essentially nothing is actually happening, plot wise, and I think that the creators know this and so they try to do it all as fast as possible, so by the time we get to the action there are 10 characters and a ton of lore I don't actually know.... So I think there are two kinds of pacing, the actual plot/events of a story, and the introduction of new ideas. For me, the plot/events need to be relatively fast, but the introduction of ideas needs to be slow. I can't start a story with 6 people, it will feel too fast no matter what, and I can't start a story with slow action or it will feel like it's dragging. I don't know if this makes sense or not

kayotics

I think I agree with that pretty wholeheartedly. I want a comic to get me into the action pretty quickly, but introduce new characters and concepts slowly. Give me, like... 3 characters tops to start with.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Yeah, too slow AND too fast is definitely a possibility!

kayotics

Fantasy and sci-fi are both genres that can fall into that trap easily, and I think the comics that bring me into the world building best is the ones that don’t explain things IMMEDIATELY, but explain things over time as I need to know them

Deo101 [Millennium]

^ yes I feel this too. I think there is also a certain respect for a readers ability to suspend their disbelief that is oftentimes not taken into account... I think that, for the most part just being told something exists is fine, and learning how it works is what needs to take time. But, a lot of stories may try to justify things existing, which feels like overexplaining

kayotics

It’s like explaining why trees exist. Sometimes they just... do. I don’t question why they’re there

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Agreed, I think stories set in the real world have the advantage of starting with a bang, without much need for explanation - there's always a need for some explanation upfront in a fantasy/sci-fi setting, even if it's done through visual shorthand. You don't need to overexplain, but you definitely have to explain... more. Or at least make it abundantly clear that A) this is a different world, B) this is the general event that's happening, and C) this is how you should feel about it, even without living in that world.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yes exactly I feel like I see it most commonly in scifi/fantasy, like you said, where someone wants to explain why their magic exists immediately. This will sound rude but at this point I don't care why it exists, maybe way later you can tell me but I don't care when I'm only just starting .. it feels like reading someone's worldbuilding essay idk

kayotics

Yeah... that’s definitely a thing that can affect pacing negatively. I don’t need a world building essay on how the magic works right away. As long as the logic is consistent in magic I’ll figure it out as a reader. Then you can explain details later and I’ll be into it.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah cause later on it feels like connecting dots, almost like revealing the answer to a mystery

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Yes yes! I love that sense that as a reader, you're being trusted to learn - not so much that you're being fed information, but that you're given enough to put the pieces together. Even done slowly, it's very satisfying.

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I like my storys with some unexplained mysteries. I mean, how many people know exactly how the internet works, and yet we use it daily? Dumping down a dissertation on how x works more often than not kills pacing for me.

kayotics

I think it can be done well to keep the pacing going, but it needs to be combined with something. Sometimes you need to provide that info dump so the story keeps working

I can’t pinpoint any exact scenes but I seem to remember Gunnerkrigg Court doing that pretty well. There’s a lot of unusual concepts in that story that need to be explained, but it usually doesn’t feel like a slog

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah for sure. I do think it can also be used either in tandem with or as an instigator to moving things forward, if done right. Its not illegal to reveal information about the world

I think people tend to do this kind of thing better with Characters than the world. Because with Characters, we want to get to know them and this comes more naturally, but with worldbuilding... It often feels like worldbuilding should be a baseline knowledge rather than also a storytelling element I guess

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

One thing that really annoys me with pacing is when a single story beat that should be relatively simple takes way too long in real time. Like in one comic I read, the villains tell the heroes to urgently meet them at some location. And, like, the heroes are talking back and forth, deciding who they should send and such. But, like... it's been six months, and they still haven't left the house yet. I guess the urgency feeling is probably there if you're binging the comic? But, it really doesn't encourage me to follow along with the comic if it's such a slow read. I'm not saying that these sorts of authors need to update faster, but if your update rate is to the point where it takes months to finish an urgent conversation, maybe some things should be cut out? Or they should at least be walking out the door while they're talking? I guess it's just sort of a general "something should happen each page" thing though. Like if the conversation is just going in circles, there's really no need for it, and it can be annoying to follow along when it's seemingly so urgent.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I know it's not the same thing, but that reminded me of all the gaming comic strips out there that poke fun at "it's final dungeon time, the stakes are higher than ever, and the player spends the next 80 hours completing the minigames"

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I have a rule that if any piece of dialogue isn't either directly advancing the plot, giving the reader new information about the characters speaking, or is funny, it should be cut

Definitely agree with what people have said, that big infodumps right off the bat are not enjoyable. I honestly don't ever want the author to sit me down and explain something to me. It's much more interesting to see parts of the worldbuilding in action, or to see things that arent explained and have to theorize about what it is or how it works before the mechanics behind it are shown

Capitania do Azar

I very much second that notion, @sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD) , that's my rule of thumb when I'm writing

Deo101 [Millennium]

I have a similar rule with my pages, but with dialogue I like to have more fluff so we feel like we're spending a bit more time with them

Capitania do Azar

if the info is not something I need the reader to know (and character development is) then what's the point of forcing myself to draw more stuff

but @Deo101 [Millennium] , fluff IS character ;D

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah! But it's not always new information is all

You gotta reestablish stuff, let some things marinate, and repeat things for them to really settle in I think, so it can't ALWAYS be new stuff, even if the page as a whole is introducing something new. I mean usually you can do it alongside other stuff but yeah

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I think sometimes it's the same for the characters. e.g. The same characters can have multiple conversations about the same topic, but their understanding/ feelings toward the topic can change as things marinate.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah for sure

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Meaningful conversations where you get to know the character’s personality would fall in the 2nd category

Sometimes its hard to judge whether dialogue will be interesting to someone who’s unfamiliar with the characters

Shadowmark Productions

Someone once told me that dialogue should reveal character and action reveals plot. If done correctly, both work in tandem to advance the story without exposition. I’ve found that to be very useful.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Ooh. True!

mirandalorian

That's a good way to put it. And it seems like that idea is pretty important in comics.

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I think it's 100% fine if dialogue isn't interesting to people unfamiliar with the characters -- as long as it's compelling to people who have been reading from the beginning?

I live for the kind of scenes where like... character A just smiles... it's an ordinary smile to people who don't know A, but it means the world to people who know the context and the character

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

Action can reveal character too

chalcara [Nyx+Nyssa]

I‘d say it‘s even more important, I for starters love characters that say one thing and do another; it‘s a good way to show conflict!

(Inner conflict, I mean)

RebelVampire

For me whether I think the pacing is too fast or too slow are actually two different things. In regards to finding the pacing too slow, I generally base this on a character's progress for their goals. While I like to see characters face setbacks and don't expect everything to be solved immediately, I expect some progress to be had. So if I wind up reading a comic and it's basically taking more than 100 pages for any progress to be made in the protagonist's goal and growth, that's just way too slow for my personal tastes. It kind of just ruins my investment in their goal since it doesn't feel like they're actually working on it, and that kind of defeats the point of a goal. In a similar but different vein, pacing is too fast for me if the comic never stops to breathe to exposit or showcase character emotions. Obviously, expositing a whole bunch is bad, and you don't want to take 20 pages to show a character crying. However, these moments where you take a step back and say "Hey look this character is struggling and here is a hint of their backstory" are super important for creating a bond between the reader and the characters. Without them, it just feels like you're sprinting from Plot Point A to Plot Point B. In relation to this, another element that would make it too fast is if characters are getting over things way too fast because plot is to be had. When something emotional happens, such as a character dies, I should still be able to feel those affects much later even if its not at the forefront. Of course, these are clearly just to my personal tastes, which pacing generally is a subjective thing in most cases.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

For sure that thing about needing space after emotional events

not a webcomic but some of my favorite parts of One Piece are the crew goofing off after ever major arc

I feel like webcomics can fail at this sometimes, because things that feel tediously slow when writing week -by-week can feel fast when read back all at once

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #reader favorites #comic tea party #ctp

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emospritelet · 6 years ago

Text

Closing the Circle - chapter 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

AO3 link

Last time, Belle and Gold had a bunch of sex after she made a deal with him. But what were the terms he actually agreed to?

Granny’s Diner was busy when Belle arrived, waitresses sweeping past with trays of bacon and eggs, pancakes and waffles, and never-ending pots of coffee. She slid into one of the booths opposite Aurora and Mulan, who were holding hands as they studied the menu. They looked up with wide grins as she sat down.

“So glad you’re okay,” said Aurora fervently, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I hardly slept a wink all night worrying.”

“Kept me awake, for sure,” said Mulan, with a smirk, and Aurora blushed.

“Well, that was - I was trying to take my mind off things,” she muttered, and buried her face in the menu. Belle shared a grin with Mulan.

“I’m starving,” she announced. “Pancakes with bacon for me and as much coffee as I can drink.”

“Yeah, same.” Aurora pushed the menu across the table.

Mulan raised a hand, catching the eye of one of the waitresses. She trotted over, and Belle recognised the girl with the red streak in her dark hair from their previous visit.

“Decided to stay a few days, huh?” she said pleasantly.

“Oh, we actually decided that we like the place,” said Mulan. “We’re looking for a place to rent, so if we can find a place we like, we’ll be here six months, at least.”

“Oh.” The waitress looked surprised, and a little unnerved. “Well. We don’t get many new folks coming to town. I - I guess if your friend here is opening the library, it’s nice for her to have some familiar faces around.”

“There’s a hospital, right?” asked Aurora.

“Uh - yeah,” said the waitress, and gestured out of the door. “Head north along Main, and it’s on the edge of town. I hope no one’s sick.”

“Oh no, just looking for work,” said Aurora. “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh.” The waitress beamed. “Oh, well, good luck! Now, what can I get you guys?”

Mulan gave the order, and Belle handed back the menus, folding her arms on the table as the waitress scurried off.

“You look tired,” said Mulan sympathetically. “I’m guessing you didn’t sleep too well either, hmm?”

“Not really,” said Belle, wrinkling her nose and hoping her blush wouldn’t give her away. Mulan leaned forward, lowering her voice.

“You think Gold’s just biding his time before he attacks?” she asked softly, and Belle hesitated.

“No,” she said. “At least, I don’t think so. I - uh - I saw him.”

“What?” Mulan frowned. “When? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Are you okay?” added Aurora, concern in her eyes. “Did he - did he threaten you, or…”

“No no, nothing like that,” said Belle. “We actually had what passes for a civil conversation.”

“Don’t trust him,” said Mulan sternly, and Aurora nodded agreement. Belle shifted in her seat.

“Actually, I think it’ll be okay,” she said. “We kind of - came to an understanding.”

“What kind of understanding?” asked Mulan suspiciously, and Belle tried not to blush.

“He’s agreed to wear the cuff,” she said. “In my presence and yours.”

“Oh yeah?” Her suspicion deepened, dark, shapely brows drawing down. “How did you get him to agree to that?”

Belle sighed, but there was no use in trying to hide it.

“I had sex with him again,” she muttered, and Aurora snickered.

“Okay, pay up,” she said, holding out a hand as Mulan grumbled.

“You took bets on me?” snapped Belle.

“Only five bucks,” said Mulan, with a grin, digging in the pocket of her jeans. “I mean it was more a question of when rather than if, let’s be real.”

Belle huffed, folding her arms indignantly, and Aurora giggled as Mulan slapped a five-dollar bill in her palm.

“It’s not really funny, though, Belle,” she said. “You do realise he could easily have killed you, right?”

“I know,” sighed Belle, leaning forward. “It’s just - I know how it sounds—”

“Stupid and reckless,” said Mulan flatly.

“—but I kind of trust him,” she went on. “I get the feeling he’s a man of his word.”

“He’s not a man.”

“Felt like one from where I was lying.”

Mulan sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes.

“You know what I mean,” she said. “He’s not human, Belle.”

“I know,” said Belle, glancing down at where her fingers were laced together. “I know he isn’t. But that doesn’t make him dishonest.”

Aurora and Mulan exchanged a look, and she could sense they wanted to argue further, but they remained silent. The waitress returned, setting mugs of coffee in front of them along with a jug of cream, and Belle added some to hers with a packet of sugar, stirring it up and folding her hands around the mug.

“So,” said Aurora. “What now? I’m going to the hospital to see about a nursing job, and we need to decide on an apartment, but we wanted to do a little investigating, right?”

Belle took a sip of her coffee.

“You said you had - suspicions,” she said, in an undertone. “Anything you’d care to share?”

“Yeah, but maybe we should wait until we’re a little more private,” said Mulan, glancing around the diner. “This place is great for people-watching, though. You know, if they’re all people…”

“Given what you said about the full moon, I’m guessing that’s not true?”

“Time will tell,” she admitted. “I have my theories about some more of the townsfolk, for sure. A young woman came in while we were waiting for you. Dark hair, pretty. Wore a great suit. I get the feeling there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“That sounds like the Mayor’s daughter,” said Belle slowly. “I guess If anyone’s at the centre of what’s going on in this town, it’s gotta be the Mayor.”

“Or our ancient bloodsucking friend,” said Mulan lightly. “What’s your next move with him gonna be? And don’t say blowing him.”

Belle shot her a flat look as Aurora giggled.

“As I said earlier, I’ll go to his shop. During the day.”

“You think he’ll be there?” asked Aurora sceptically. “I thought his kind were more the after-dark type.”

“I’m starting to rethink every preconception I ever had about his kind,” said Belle dryly.

“Just try and restrain yourself from banging his ass this time,” said Mulan, and yelped as Belle swatted her arm.

Once breakfast was over, they went out into the town, strolling along the streets and keeping a sharp eye out for anything that looked out of the ordinary. The townsfolk eyed them curiously, and Belle suspected that the waitress’s comment about few people choosing to stay was accurate. The people that they spoke to were friendly enough, but she noticed that some of them ducked out of sight rather than cross their paths. It made her think that perhaps there were more non-human residents than they had anticipated, and the curious part of her longed to speak to them all. Perhaps the reopened library would entice some of them in.

Mulan updated Belle on her suspicions about the owner of the diner, an old woman named Mrs Lucas. Her granddaughter was the waitress with the red streak in her hair, whose name was Ruby.

“And you think they’re werewolves?” said Belle, surprised. “What makes you suspect them?”

“Just a - a feeling,” admitted Mulan. “Like an itch between my shoulder blades, I can’t really explain it.”

“Also I checked the rotas,” put in Aurora, tossing back her hair. “Neither of them work over the full moon. At least not for the two months that were pinned up in the kitchen. I managed to sneak a look when I pretended to get lost looking for the restroom.”

“So for the moment we’re going with werewolves,” said Mulan. “But we’re open to other suggestions.”

“Ruby said there was a club in town,” said Aurora. “She seems nice. Maybe if we buy her a few drinks one night she’ll tell us. It’s not as though we mean them any harm.”

“She may not see things that way,” said Belle. “We can certainly try, though. Anyone else?”

“Not yet,” said Mulan. “It’s hard to tell who might be casting a glamour, so we’ll need to try one of those spells we discussed if we want to pick up on that.”

“It can wait until we’re settled, I guess.”

Belle stopped on the sidewalk, bouncing on her toes and chewing her lip as she glanced across the street. Across from them was a shop, gold lettering in the window announcing its owner: Mr Gold: Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. She raised her chin.

“Okay,” she said decidedly. “The sign says it’s open. I’m going in.”

“You sure?” said Aurora. “You want us to come too?”

“No,” said Belle quickly. “No, it’s fine. I think he responds best to the one-on-one approach.”

“Yeah, and we know how that ends up…”

“I’m not gonna sleep with him in his shop!” snapped Belle. “I just meant - I was the one to make the deal with him, that’s all. I’m going to see if he’s interested in giving me something other than sarcasm.”

“You’re just leaving yourself wide open for innuendo here,” said Mulan, grinning at her.

“Oh my God…”

“Okay, we’ll stop teasing,” said Aurora, and shrugged. “Probably.”

“Go find your apartment,” said Belle firmly. “I’ll go and see if he’s in the mood to talk. We can meet at the library at one, what do you say?”

“We’ll bring lunch,” said Mulan. “See you later. And be careful. No stupid risks, got it?”

“Yes, Mom,” said Belle meekly, and Mulan rolled her eyes.

Aurora took her hand, and the two of them set off down the street as Belle turned her attention back to the pawnshop, chewing her lip again somewhat nervously. She couldn’t see him through the window, but she knew he was there. She wondered if he could sense her out there in the street, watching for him. If he could smell her scent in the air. An image flitted through her mind of how he had looked in the darkness, teeth and eyes gleaming as he pushed inside her, and she blushed, shoving the memory away.

Squaring her shoulders, she glanced both ways and crossed the street, striding purposefully and reaching out to grasp the handle of the shop door. She pushed it open without breaking her stride, a bell above tinkling merrily, and burst into the shop. At first glance it appeared empty, but then a curtain behind the counter was pushed aside, and Gold walked through from the back room, his eyes locking onto hers. He was in a dark grey three-piece suit, his shirt midnight blue silk with a grey tie knotted at his throat. A rhythmic tapping near his feet indicated that he was using that gold-handled ebony cane to walk, and she presumed it was an affectation; he certainly didn’t need it, as far as she was aware. The thought occurred to her that it was part of his image, that it made him seem weaker, less threatening. A lure to draw in his prey. As though he could read her mind, he laid the cane carefully on the counter, placing both hands on the glass and pushing up on the tips of his fingers.

“Miss French,” he drawled, smiling his dark smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Belle marched up to face him, fumbling in her bag until she felt the cool silver of the enchanted cuff. She drew it out, slapping it onto the counter, and Gold eyed it briefly before glancing back at her. The corner of his mouth pulled upwards in a faint smirk.

“What, no warm words of greeting?” he said silkily. “I’m hurt. I thought that we might have moved beyond a purely transactional relationship.”

“I’m just trying to keep to the terms of the deal,” she said stiffly. “I get the feeling that’s important to you.”

He held her gaze for a moment, dark eyes inscrutable, then looked down at the cuff. Reaching out very deliberately, he picked it up between thumb and forefinger, and turned away from her a moment. She watched him fumble with the cuff of his shirt, and when he turned back and tented his fingers on the counter once more, she could just see the silvery edge of the cuff around his wrist.

“The deal stands,” he said softly. “Do you feel better now? Safer?”

“Mulan says I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, and his smile widened.

“Mulan is very wise.”

“But you’ll hold to our deal?”

He pressed a hand to his heart.

“I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.”

She took a step back, glancing around the shop. Shelves of shining, dark wood filled the walls, each stacked with a myriad of items. At first their placement seemed haphazard, but as she looked closer she could see a certain logic to it. Delicate porcelain tea sets sat beside gleaming glassware, brass instruments were tucked in by antique cameras in leather cases, and jewel-bright lamps sent out coloured light to catch on the facets of crystal decanters. Slim, tall shelving units near the counter were filled with old books with leather covers or shining dust jackets, scuffed at the edges. Her eyes widened with interest, and if it had been an ordinary antique shop, with an ordinary proprietor, she could have spent hours in there.

“See something you like?”

His voice was low and a little rough, making her shiver, and she tightened her jaw, pushing away the memory of his hands on her and the taste of his mouth. She turned on her toes to face him, taking a breath.

“I don’t need antiques,” she said abruptly. “I’m after information.”

Gold tutted softly, soft hair gleaming in the light.

“So you just thought you’d skip the foreplay entirely?” he said quietly. “And here I was looking forward to a little verbal sparring.”

“Trading insults may be how you get your kicks,” she said stiffly. “Not me.”

His grin became knowing, white teeth gleaming.

“Oh, I think I know how you get your kicks.”

Belle rolled her eyes as her cheeks flushed.

“Are you going to give me the information, or not?”

Gold raised an eyebrow.

“What do I get out of it?” he asked. "Other than your utter disdain and the dubious pleasure of your company."

“We already made a deal!” she protested.

“Yes.” He held up his wrist. “Which I’m keeping to.”

“But - I said I wanted information from you,” she said.

“That was not the deal we made.”

“The deal we made was—” Belle thought quickly, trying to recall the exact words.

“You did offer me some of your blood in exchange for information, Miss French,” he said. “A tempting proposition, to be sure. But I turned you down.”

Belle rifled through her memories of their discussion, and felt her heart sink.

“The deal we made was a mutual - binding - as it were,” he went on. “Surely you haven’t forgotten already? I seem to recall being quite memorable.”

She wanted to growl as she recalled their conversation. The bastard was right. She had been so eager to get him to agree to wear the cuff that she had omitted to specifically ask for the provision of information. Gold was grinning at her.

“Quite the negotiator,” he said softly. “I have a feeling that if I tried to sell you something I could charge double and you wouldn’t notice. Easily distracted, are we?”

“It can be hard to maintain focus when there’s a killer in your bedroom,” she said dryly.

“Especially when you have an itch that needs scratching by said killer, yes?”

She ignored that.

“Alright then,” she said, raising her chin. “I want to make another deal.”

Gold let out a breath, a low, rumbling sound that made her squeeze her thighs together.

“What makes you think I’m interested in what you have to offer?” he said lazily. “You’re very lovely, but I find it easy to control my appetites. Unlike you, it appears.”

“I didn’t come over here for a booty call!” she snapped. “I’m doing research!”

“Your methods are unorthodox,” he remarked, drumming long fingers on the counter. “I imagine there’s not much scope for funding in your chosen area.”

“If all you have to offer me is sarcasm, I think we’re done,” she said shortly, and turned on her heel.

“Oh, very well,” he sighed. “What is your offer, Miss French?”

She turned slowly to face him. He was watching her, an expectant look on his face. A clock ticked on the wall behind him, brass pendulum swinging back and forth, and she licked her lips.

“We can discuss terms, if you like,” she said. “For my part, I want information. On you, and on this town and its inhabitants.”

He sucked his teeth, eyes flicking over her.

“I won’t reveal the secrets of my fellow townsfolk,” he said finally. “They are not mine to tell.”

“And the rest?”

“What, do you want a tour of the town, or something?”

“I can find my own way around,” she said. “But - well, I guess it would help if you could tell me any areas of interest. Places to avoid, for example.”

“What else?”

“I want to know about you,” she said. “The - the times you lived through. Who you were before - this.” She gestured up and down his frame, and he pulled a face.

“I might be persuaded to tell you of my life,” he allowed. “A little, anyway.”

“How little are we talking?”

“I’ll tell you what I feel comfortable divulging,” he said. “How about that?”

“And if that turns out to be nothing?”

He smiled.

“Well, that’s a risk you’ll have to take, isn’t it?” he said softly. “And we both know how you like to take risks.”

Belle thought it over. Any information he could give her would be a bonus, as far as she was concerned, and she couldn’t help but be intrigued by what he might tell her of his long life, and who he had been before. She leaned on the counter, mirroring his pose, her face mere inches from his. From that distance she could smell his cologne, drifting into her nose, scents of spice and wood and musk that made her abdomen clench. Or perhaps it was his dark eyes, staring into hers, unblinking. She wondered if he could hear her thumping heart.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “What do you want in return?”

“Well, I thought we could start with dinner.”

She blinked, surprised.

“What?”

“I believe I owe you one,” he said. “You agreed to it before, and - well, we got rather distracted, didn’t we?”

He was grinning at her, and it made her want to slap his face. She arched a brow at him.

“Dinner,” she said flatly. “Do you actually eat? I mean stuff other than blood?”

The grin became toothy

“You of all people should know that I eat - many other things.”

“Dammit, Gold!” She definitely wanted to slap him, but satisfied herself with a glare. “And you promise this will actually be a dinner, not just a glass of wine before sex?”

He pressed a hand to his heart with a wounded expression.

“If you insist.”

“Then fine,” she said ungraciously. “Tonight at eight. And don’t think you’re coming to my place.”

“Of course not,” he said dryly. “For all I know you’d redecorate and accidentally open a portal to a hell dimension. You can come to my place instead.”

“Which is where?”

“My house is at the end of Misthaven Drive,” he said. “You can’t miss it.”

“And do I need to bring anything?”

“Other than your lovely, suspicious self?” he said, with a wry grin. “Not a thing. I’ll cook.”

“You can cook?” said Belle flatly, and he rolled his eyes.

“When you’re immortal, you have a lot of time to learn things,” he said. “I assure you my skills extend beyond the bedroom.”

“I’m sure you think they do.”

Her tone was dry, and Gold gave her a twisted smile, his shoulder rising a little as he leaned in until his nose almost brushed hers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t you have fun?” he asked softly.

Belle pushed back, heart thudding in her chest.

“I’ll have dinner with you,” she said, her voice shaking a little. “I’m not agreeing to anything else. And I want the information from you in return.”

“Very well,” he said lightly. “A pleasant evening of food, wine and conversation it is, then.”

“Good.”

“Absolutely no sex to speak of.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll see you at eight,” he said, and pushed up from the counter. “The deal is struck. Good day, Miss French.”

He picked up the cane and turned away, pushing aside the curtain that led to the back room and letting it fall behind him, and Belle scowled in frustration before stomping out of the shop. He was an irritating little shit, but she suspected he would be a goldmine of information. She just had to get him to offer some up.

Gold heard the tinkle of the shop bell as she left, and allowed himself a tiny smirk as he glanced between the two people that were perched on one of his benches. Cruella was grinning, sleepy-eyed as she leaned against Jefferson’s shoulder, and Jefferson himself was sprawled on the bench, leather-clad legs spread wide as he sipped at a cup of tea.

“So,” said Cruella. “That’s your horny librarian, hmm?”

“This isn’t a porn movie, dearie,” he said patiently. “She may have the librarian post as a cover, but try to remember she’s a monster-hunter.”

“So, that’s your horny monster-hunter?”

Gold sighed, reaching for his tea as Jefferson chuckled.

“We took a peek through the curtain while you were arguing,” he said. “She’s pretty, Gold.”

“Far prettier than you,” added Cruella.

“I don’t need to be pretty,” he growled, and she chortled.

“Whoever told you that?”

He ignored her, taking a sip of his tea, and Jefferson pursed his lips, looking thoughtful.

“She doesn’t seem all that enamoured with you, based on that conversation,” he remarked. “How are you gonna play this? It seems kind of ill-mannered to invite her over for dinner and then make her the main course.”

“Although that is a classic,” put in Cruella. “One should never ignore the classics. We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

“I have no plans to kill her,” he said. “She doesn’t appear to pose a threat at this time. If that changes, I’m adaptable, but at the moment she seems more interested in getting information from me.”

“And you’re willing to give it up in exchange for a quick shag?” Her tone was dry, and he grinned.

“What makes you think it’d be quick?”

She sniffed, tossing back her blonde hair.

“Please, spare me your arrogance,” she said. “I just don’t want to find that you’ve spilled all our secrets as part of some desperate ploy to get a blowjob.”

“It’s not as though I have to go begging,” he snapped. “Besides, I already told her there would be a limit to the information I could give her. She wanted to know about my past.”

“And you’ll tell her, will you?”

Gold shrugged, taking another sip of tea.

“Within reason.”

“What’s that around your wrist?” asked Jefferson curiously, and Gold’s mouth flattened as he set down his cup.

“Nothing.”

“Looks like a bracelet,” said Cruella. “Doesn’t go with your outfit, darling.”

“Did she give that to you?” asked Jefferson, interested, and reached for it. Gold jerked his arm away, slipping the silver cuff from his wrist and into his jacket pocket.

“She did.” Jefferson’s grin widened. “You two reached the gift exchange point in your relationship. How cute!”

“We don’t have a relationship.” Gold hesitated, wondering why he had ever agreed to wear the bloody thing in the first place. “It’s a—”

“Human-vampire friendship bracelet?” asked Cruella, with a snicker.

“It’s part of a deal I made with her,” he said stiffly.

“What kind of deal?”

“I agreed to wear it in her presence, that’s all,” he said, hearing the impatience in his voice. “It has magic, designed to keep her safe.”

“Yes, but why would she ask you to—” Her voice cut off, her eyes widening. “Oh my! She put a leash on you!”

“That’s not what this is!” he snapped, shaking back his hair.

“A muzzle, then,” she purred, and pouted at him. “What a good boy!”

“Shut up!”

“Man, she made you her pet!” chuckled Jefferson. “Oh, that’s gotta sting!”

“I’m no one’s pet!” he said coldly. “I agreed to wear the thing in return for her surrendering to me for the evening. It was a mutually-beneficial arrangement, nothing more.”

“And yet you still have it.”

“The deal is ongoing,” he said. “Why do you think I asked her to dinner?”

“I heard her say no sex,” said Cruella slyly, and Gold smirked.

“We’ll see.”

Belle strode quickly back to the library, arms pumping as she tried to work off her irritation. God, he’s annoying! How he’s survived all this time without someone just putting a stake through his heart for funsies is beyond me!

The library was dark and cold when she let herself in, and she flicked on the lights, running her eyes over the bookshelves. There was just under an hour to wait until Mulan and Aurora turned up, so she decided to start sorting through the books and checking the catalogue. She was planning on reopening the place within a week, but she wanted to restock, and she opened up her computer and started compiling a list of the titles she wanted. The discarded books were stacked into boxes, ready to be donated.

Mulan and Aurora arrived right on time, bringing burgers from Granny’s and large takeout cups of coffee. They ate their lunch in the apartment, clustered around the kitchen table where the roses Gold had brought her still sat in their vase.

“So.” Mulan reached for a couple of fries. “What did he tell you?”

“Not much,” said Belle gloomily. “But I’m going over to his place tonight. He says he’s willing to give me some information on his old life.”

“Seriously?” she said flatly. “A date?”

“It’s not a date,” said Belle patiently. “It’s - well, okay, it’s dinner, but it’s not a date.”

“What are you having, blood sausage?”

“Hilarious,” said Belle dryly. “I don’t know. He says he’ll cook.”

“What do vampires eat other than people, then?”

“I guess I’ll find out.” She took a bite of her burger, chewing and swallowing. “He wore the cuff, though, so he’s keeping to the deal. What did you guys find out?”

“Well, I have an interview at the hospital tomorrow,” said Aurora. “From what I hear it should just be a formality. They’re desperate for nurses and the money’s great.”

“And we have three apartments to view this afternoon,” added Mulan. “So things are moving on that front.”

“The real estate agents were nice,” said Aurora. “Ursula and Ariel. They have a place together down by the harbour. We got another invitation to this club - I think it was called The Rabbit Hole? Maybe we should check it out.”

“I’m in,” said Belle. “Tonight’s out, but we could go tomorrow?”

“Good call,” said Mulan, dipping her fries into ketchup. “I get the feeling some of the town’s residents are friendlier than others. We should be able to get some decent intel, if we’re careful.”

“I suppose I’ll make a start tonight,” said Belle, with a sigh. “We’ll see what Gold has to give me.”

“What are you gonna wear?” asked Aurora. “That blue dress is nice. Brings out your eyes and makes your boobs look awesome.”

“Yes, let’s try to attract the dangerous vampire, shall we?” said Mulan. “Don’t encourage her, babe.”

“Hasn’t he already seen everything anyway?” said Aurora dismissively. “She can still look nice while eating dinner with a serial killer, just saying.”

“As long as the dress has pockets big enough to hold a weapon, I’m okay with it,” said Mulan. “Which means that everything except the yellow dress is out.”

“No no, that’s for summer, it has to be either the blue or the green,” said Aurora.

“I really think safety has to trump seasonal colour schemes, here.”

“Sacrifices must be made for the sake of fashion,” said Aurora, tossing back her hair. “Besides, we both know that whatever he’s cooking isn’t gonna be the only thing on the menu. I’m guessing one plate of amuse-bouches and he spreads her out on the table.”

“Right here,” said Belle, in a very dry tone. “I’m sitting right here, listening to every word you guys say.”

Aurora grinned at her.

“Wear the blue dress,” she said firmly. “Use the weapons you got.”

“And take an actual weapon,” added Mulan. “Shove it up his ass if he looks at you wrong.”

Belle sighed.

In the end she did wear the blue dress, her breasts pushed high in a padded black bra with a matching lace thong. She decided on bare legs, despite the cold weather, her feet tucked into closed-toe heels in burgundy to match the thin belt at her waist. A fitted black wool coat kept the wind from her as she got out of Aurora’s car and glanced up and down the street. Her phone had led them to this place, the car inching along through fallen leaves as they searched for Gold’s house. Misthaven Drive was on the edge of town, a broad, winding road with a few large houses set back at the end of long driveways. He had said his house was at the end, and they found it, a large Victorian with steps leading to a porch, its front door surrounded by panels of coloured glass.

“Okay,” she said, a little nervously. “I guess this is it.”

“You want us to wait for you?” asked Mulan, from the passenger seat, and Belle hesitated.

“No,” she said eventually. “No, I’ll call you.”

“Keep your phone turned on,” said Aurora. “We’ll check in on you, got it?”

Belle got out of the car, closing the door with a thump and glancing back at them before she headed to the house and up the path. Warm light came from inside the house, spilling out into the dark of the night, and she slowly mounted the steps, her heart thumping in her chest. She knocked on the door, hearing the faint strains of classical music from within, which grew louder as the door opened to reveal Gold, jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up, a dish towel over his shoulder. The silver cuff gleamed at his wrist, and he grinned at the sight of her, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Miss French,” he said softly. “Do come in.”

#fic: closing the circle #rumbelle fic #my fic #vampire!Gold #rumbelle

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love-killed-the-superstar · 6 years ago

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femslash february strikes again and i finally updated that one cornirma fic that ive been meaning to get back to for literally an entire year

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 2 - funny how we run around Summary: “You're awake...” “Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?” “It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma. “Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow. (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/42144206

Cornelia loved watching Irma sleep. While she usually ran her mouth during the day, when she slept she had some sort of serenity around her, a tranquillity one wouldn't expect from someone who spent half the night tossing and turning, hogging the blankets and drooling all over her pillow. Yet, when morning came and Cornelia returned to wakefulness, Irma was at peace with herself in the land of dreams, hair framing her face like a halo. It took all restraint not to kiss her, but Cornelia had never been a fan of kissing before one had brushed their teeth.

Instead, she continued to watch. It was quiet and dim, the early morning sun casting strange light and shadows throughout the main room where they were set up. Without her family milling around, it felt peaceful. She wondered if this was how it would be all the time, if she and Irma moved in together some day. Sure, it wouldn't be some luxury cabin, but the world would be quiet like this. There would be no eyes on her. The whole room would be theirs to lie in silence and watch each other and feel cosy and secure. While Cornelia did want lavish things for herself someday, when she was older and things like throw pillows and vases mattered greatly in the grand scheme of things, it amazed her how easily she would sacrifice that just to be able to wake up next to Irma each morning and take on the day, regardless of whether they were in a plush king-sized bed or squashed together on a pull-out.

Geez. She really was picturing the rest of her life with Irma, like the hopeless romantic she was.

She rolled over to reach for her phone in the semi-dark. Too early to start messaging the group chat, but she hedged her bets with someone who did have a tendency to be up at this hour.

Will, you awake?

Not three minutes later, she received a reply.

ofc?? no rest for an athlete, corny. how did telling the parents go?

It didn't. Turns out I'm a bit of a coward.

nah it's tough. i only told my mom about being genderfluid a month ago, and i had no idea if she'd even CARE about it

Well, she cares about YOU. And from what you've told me, she's taken it well?

The speech bubble indicating a reply stayed for a while, and Cornelia repositioned herself so that she could watch Irma doze while waiting on Will to get back to her. After a few minutes, her phone finally pinged, and she hastily lowered the volume as Irma stirred slightly.

yeah, turns out dean being our teacher way back in the day finally paid off bc sheffield has diversity training or smth. he sat down w me and my mom and talked over all this stuff she was confused about. and she still doesn't totally get it, but she said she just wants me to be happy. guess that's all i really needed. stuff like if she comes to pride and w/e doesn't matter to me tbh, just knowing she's there for me is enough

Cornelia chewed her lip wistfully. If only it worked out that simply for everybody...

That's great. Really, I'm so happy it all worked out for you. I'm just worried about my parents, I guess. They're not bad people, but sometimes they can be so backwards with things. Really, I just want them to accept that this is a part of me so I can stop lying about a college guy just to keep them from overanalysing the way I am around Irma.

hey i get it! you're both just so darn cute together!

Indeed we are.

They shared some quick, casual conversation (Will, as usual, had some funny story to tell her about life as Taranee's roommate, and Cornelia caught them up on the bullshit that was her and Irma's road trip to the cabin) before Will had to leave to start their morning swim practice.

“Psst. Blondie.”

Cornelia dropped her phone in surprise, catching sight of rich green eyes watching her intently.

“You're awake...”

“Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?”

“It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma.

“Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow.

“You're comfy,” she mumbled.

“Yup, cushy tits run in the family,” Irma remarked, relishing in the way Cornelia shuddered with an implosion of laughter. “You know this is the first time in months we've woken up together?”

“Feels like it too,” Cornelia sighed. “I've missed this. You should really come visit me more often, you know.”

“Oh yeah? I visited you twice last term. It's your turn to visit me just as soon as daddy dearest hands over your fucking prius.”

“Well, no offence, but your college campus is like a 30 minute drive away from Heatherfield,” pointed out Cornelia. “I'd sooner you visit me than risk bumping into Uriah of all people at a house party.”

Irma scoffed. “Thanks a lot! It may not be ivy-league or State U or anything, but there's still a ton of stuff to do! Besides, pretty sure Uriah's at Sheffield Community College, Anna works with his mom.” She paused. “Though, I did run into our dear old chum Nigel at a Halloween party this year.”

“Oh? And how did that go down?”

“How do you think? He followed me around half the night asking about Tara until I finally snapped and was like, 'you missed the boat, honey, our girl is gay as the day is long'. Haven't seen him since. Reckon he dropped out when he heard how swimmingly Taranee's life is going without him.”

“I doubt he flunked out because of a girl he was dumped by five years ago,” Cornelia deadpanned.

“Uh, hello? Our girl is a catch. He's lucky to have even walked the Earth in the same lifetime as her.”

“A bit dramatic, but I get the sentiment.”

Cornelia fell quiet, listening intently to Irma's heartbeat, her breathing.

“D'you think today's gonna be the day?” Irma asked softly.

Cornelia let out a noise, somewhere between laughter and a sigh.

“How do you always know what I'm thinking?”

“Because you have the antithesis of a poker face, darlin'. I've been reading you like a book since I was thirteen.”

She tangled her fingers up in Cornelia's hair, gently combing through, careful to avoid knots.

“I don't know if it'll be today,” sighed Cornelia. “Does it make me a hypocrite? I was so certain I wanted to do it this time.”

“Look. You need to stop putting this pressure on yourself to do everything exactly how you imagined,” Irma said firmly. “You don't have to tell them I'm your girlfriend. You don't even have to tell them you're pan if you aren't ready for it. We can call this off, you can spend the rest of Christmas break not having to worry about their reactions, and we can make out and cuddle and all that good stuff the second we set foot in my house. Would that make you feel better?”

“No?” Cornelia reached up to pull Irma into a proper hug. “I want them to know how happy you make me. I want them to know that I'm happy being myself. But the part where I actually tell them? Opening up like that, it... it's a very emotional process.”

“I know. I know it is. But I promise you, once it's out in the open... never mind their reaction, you will feel worlds better with it off your chest.”

“Ugh, why does my girlfriend have to be so wise?” Cornelia wondered aloud. Irma formed a fist and lightly knocked her on the head.

“If I'm going to be a teacher some day, I gotta be wise. I'm meant to be some sort of inspiring prophet, if your dad's stirring speech at dinner last night was anything to go by.”

“He's a passionate guy,” Cornelia shrugged.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

A sudden creak from down the hall disrupted them, and they sprung apart, Cornelia sitting upright and reaching for her phone while Irma pretended to go back to sleep. A moment later, Harold's face poked around the door.

“Morning, darling!” he uttered in a stage-whisper, before stepping into the room clad in his robe and slippers. “Does Irma take coffee? I was thinking of brewing a pot to wake your mother up.”

“Only with six million sugars in,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Don't worry, I'll take over. I know how to make it so she doesn't spit it out.”

Harold laughed, and moved over to start on breakfast as Cornelia set up the coffee maker.

“You two are as thick as thieves.”

Cornelia's hand froze.

“...Well, we're still good friends, but...”

“I drifted apart from my school friends when I went away to college, you know,” Harold mused. “I regret it now. The rift grew so big, and by the time I saw them again they were married, had families... and although we could still talk with ease about these kinds of things, the bond we shared at school – the books we liked to read, the movies we saw together, the pranks we would play on our teachers – all of that was gone. It was something we could look back upon and laugh at, but it's not the same.”

“I didn't know that.”

Harold offered her a kind smile, and reached over to crack some eggs into a bowl, dusting the mixture with pepper.

“Well, I think it's important to keep in touch with those you love. I was actually quite worried when I heard that you were going to your college alone. I know how close you are to the girls you met at Sheffield. I'm... glad that you were able to keep a close bond with them despite the distance.”

Oh, if only he knew how close.

Cornelia set out some cups on the side, hoping her face wasn't burning. If she really was as easy to read as Irma said...

“Well, they're my friends. They're important to me.” She glanced over at him. “Dad, I'm... I'm really happy with my life right now. With the person I am, and the person I'm with.”

Harold stopped whisking, and moved over to pull Cornelia into a tight hug.

“I'm so glad to hear that, darling. I really am.”

They worked in a pleasant silence after that, and when Irma next rolled over, Cornelia was nudging her, cup of overly sweetened coffee in her hand.

“Rise and shine.”

Harold was whistling away as Irma took her first sip, his back to them as he began tossing some bacon and eggs in the pan.

“Mmm. You made it just how I like it.”

“Well, you're picky. If my dad made it you'd choke it down and feel awful the rest of the day,” Cornelia teased. Irma stuck her tongue out.

“Jerk.” After another sip, she added coyly, “I heard the conversation between you two. It was sweet. Are you thinking today might be the day after all?”

“Maybe,” Cornelia said, a flame of confidence ignited in her heart. “He really wants me to be happy, so... maybe when I tell him, he'll understand.”

“Look, Harold Hale might not be leading a revolution, but he's always seemed like a chill guy to me,” Irma said quietly. “If you keep dropping hints, he might figure the rest out on his own.”

“Maybe.”

Cornelia glanced back at her father, still blissfully unaware of their conversation, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Irma's forehead.

“Now, drink up. We have a big day ahead of us.”

…

Breakfast was uneventful, with Lillian dominating the conversation with talk of some dream inspired by a zombie TV show she'd been binge-watching over Christmas break. Irma munched on French toast and bacon and watched in amusement as Harold became disgustingly sweet with Elizabeth, pressing kisses to her head whenever he went to refill drinks, even reaching down to pinch her behind when he was sure his daughters and his oldest's girlfriend weren't looking. Elizabeth swatted his hand away, pretending to be mortified at his brazen display in front of Irma, but the rouge on her cheeks and the affectionate eyeroll told another story. All the while, Cornelia quietly ate and drank, keeping a straight face while prodding Irma's foot playfully with her own under the table.

Oh, Irma could get used to mornings like these.

They took turns showering and dressing, and did the usual routine of wrestling for more mirror space as they brushed their teeth and put on make-up.

“So what's the plan for today?” Irma asked, rubbing some kind of moisturiser into her cheeks. Cornelia leaned in closer and inhaled with a happy sigh. Mango. Irma took the opportunity to turn and press a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Cornelia pulled away with a grin.

“Oh, well now we're all together, today will definitely be a decorating day. I mean, it's Christmas eve tomorrow, so it'd be a little sad if we didn't have the decorations ready by then,” she explained with a shrug, uncapping her mascara beginning to apply it to her upper lashes. “It really shouldn't take too long though. We'll have some time to get away, don't worry. And I think tonight my parents reserved dinner for us at a restaurant in town. I have to warn you, the waiter we had last time was super obnoxious...”

Irma stared at her reflection in the mirror, zoning out of Cornelia's anecdote about the wait staff at said restaurant, before glancing over at her girlfriend. In their teen years, she'd always envied how immaculate Cornelia's appearance was. She'd always seemed flawless somehow, even though Irma knew better and would never ever admit that much. Then, those feelings started to mix with something else, and attraction, jealousy and self-consciousness melted into an ugly soup of insecurity in her psyche. Even now, when she knew better than anyone that Cornelia was smitten with her, doubt crept in, especially in situations like these when they had to stand beside one another and pretend like they belonged in the same league.

“You're beautiful,” she sighed, interrupting Cornelia's spontaneous yelp review. Cornelia's hand jerked at the suddenness of Irma's statement and she hurriedly reached to blot away a clump of mascara stuck to the end of her eyelashes.

“Oh. Well, I do my best, and when it comes to make-up practice always makes perfect, you know.”

“I'm not talking about make-up, though yeah, you should consider dropping out of college and becoming a beauty guru on youtube instead.”

“Well, I think you're gorgeous too,” Cornelia replied with a smile, moving onto her lips. First a layer of balm to soften them, a waiting period of three minutes, and then the application of gloss or lipstick. It was her routine every time, and the waiting drove Irma mad in the mornings they'd spent together over the years. Cornelia's lip balm always smelled so damn good that fighting the temptation to kiss it clean off was a rare torture.

“Have you seen me?” muttered Irma, frowning at her reflection. “Eyebags for days. Messy brows. My lips are chapped to fuck and my skin has been kind of red lately...”

“Every time I see you I want to kiss you all over,” Cornelia said in the kind of factual tone that had Irma raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Still, she didn't protest as Cornelia wound her arms around her, and Irma caught a whiff of coconut lip balm. God damn it, she wanted Corny-kisses so bad. “You still get insecure, huh?”

“Hard not to when my girlfriend could pass for a fucking supermodel.”

“While I'm flattered that you hold me in such high regard, you're a far cry from the disaster you're making yourself out to be,” Cornelia laughed. “Besides, if you're really worrying about stuff, just talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Irma muttered. Cornelia rifled through her make-up bag for a few moments, before bringing out a small bottle.

“Come here, dope. Let me help you.”

“Why pay big bucks for a beautician when you can get one for free in the form of a generous girlfriend?” Irma deadpanned, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Cornelia grinned back and started to apply the liquid to her cheeks and brow with some kind of blender sponge thing shaped like an egg.

“The trick to combating redness and dark circles is to have a good, strong base that neutralises any discolouration in your skin. In your case, green tones kind of cancel out reds, and yellows are good against dark circles, so it just leaves your skin looking healthier, see?”

She switched over quickly to one with a yellower hue, and Irma hummed in agreement, staying put as Cornelia began tending to her eyebags.

“I think I get where you're coming from. Hay Lin calls me up all the time to gush about colour theory, the importance of colour wheels is stuck in my brain for life.”

“Oh, you and Hay Lin call each other all the time? More than me?” Cornelia teased. She put down the sponge and reached back over to her make-up bag, retrieved something that Irma could only describe as the world's tiniest broom, and began to tame Irma's unruly eyebrows. “Don't tell me the two of you are having a sordid affair behind my back.”

“Our torrid love affair is about as real as yours with mystery botanist man,” Irma responded. Without breaking eye contact with Cornelia, she reached over for her own chapstick and began to apply it. Cornelia's tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she smoothed down Irma's brows.

“It's bad enough my parents keep going on about him, don't you start.”

“Well, he is my alter-ego,” Irma pointed out. “Seems a little rude to silence my opinions on him.”

“I hate when you make a good point.”

Cornelia leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Irma's brow, breathing in the smell of her mango moisturiser one more time and sighing deeply. Irma, in a similar moment of pure, unfiltered lesbianism, caught the scent of Cornelia's lip balm and damn went out of her mind. She tilted Cornelia's head down and what transpired for the next few minutes were a combination of kisses, hugs, and several attempts to escape Irma's python-like grip.

“It's lipstick time,” Cornelia complained, a playful glint in her eye as she finally pried Irma's arms off of her waist. “My lips will dry out.”

“Honey, we're both balmed up, if anything, now we have a double coating. You'll be fine.”

“Still, the sooner my make-up is done, the sooner we can get decorating out of the way, and the sooner we can chill out watching crappy holiday movies.”

“The temptation to stay in this bathroom where no one's watching and we can keep kissing forever, though...”

“Aren't we saving 'kissing forever' for the week at your place?” Cornelia asked innocently, perfectly pencilled eyebrows raised.

“No, that's 'sex forever', silly,” Irma said cheerfully, clapping her on the back.

She glanced back at her reflection. While the foundation and tiny grooming hadn't done much besides tidying her reflection up some, her eyes twinkled with something she could only describe as 'the Cornelia effect', and she found her appearance didn't really bug her so much by this point. As they stood side by side, Irma came to the realisation that she and Cornelia really did fit together, but more like a pair of odd socks that compliment each other in all their contrasting glory.

Maybe someone else would call that love.

…

Christmas with the Hales was turning out to be pretty fun.

Irma and Lillian fought bitterly over control of the spotify playlist that morning, while Elizabeth and Cornelia decorated the tree and Harold cheerfully filmed the entire ordeal. Lillian was stubbornly obsessed with the classics, while Irma kept switching them out for lesser appreciated cover versions, partly because rooting for the underdogs was how she rolled, and partly because she got immense glee out of pissing Lillian off (and for that, Cornelia saluted her for her heroism). When Karmilla's edition of 'All I Want For Christmas' came on instead of Mariah Carey, Lillian threatened to throw Irma's phone out of the window, which had Elizabeth swooping in and putting an end to their temporary rivalry.

They called a truce when the parents set out to buy icing and other edible decorations for the Christmas cookies, leaving the girls to prep them for baking. Lillian greased the baking tray while Cornelia mixed eggs and flour and sugar and cinnamon together in a big red bowl. Irma, meanwhile, sat herself on the island and, in compromise with Lillian, put on a playlist of nineties nostalgia, singing along to Re-feel-it and pretending to drum with a pair of wooden spoons against the countertop.

“Funnyyyyy, how we run around,” she belted. “And see what we got, we don't even know what it is we found...”

“And honey, take a look around,” Cornelia chimed in, using the whisk as a microphone. She spun on her heels, her eyes meeting Irma's as she lifted the whisk up to her lips. “By the time we get there we won't even know where it is we're bound!”

The two of them burst out laughing, and Lillian rolled her eyes. “Dorks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cornelia sighed dramatically, smirking at Irma before turning back to the mixing bowl and continuing to whisk the mixture. “I forgot we were in your divine presence, Lillian. I hope you can forgive us for entering the realm of uncool nostalgia for two seconds.”

Irma snorted.

“You know, she always gets more sarcastic when you're around, Irma,” Lillian accused.

“Yeah, I rub off on her. I'm a baaaad influence.”

“Is that any way to talk to our renowned guest?” Cornelia chastised. “What would Dad say?”

“He'd probably tell you not to sing into the whisk. You know how many germs you could be putting into the cookies by breathing on the mixture? You've built up an immunity living among students, but have some consideration for those of us who haven't stepped foot in a sweaty student union hall.”

“You're actually mad,” Irma cackled. “What kind of diseases could Cornelia have besides a bad case of the cooties? Unless... Corny, please don't tell me your parents are anti-vaxxers, or I might have to end this friendship for good.”

“Hell no, they're fine. Since when did you become such a germophobe, Lillian?” Cornelia teased.

“I play zombie games,” Lillian responded sagely. “I know how infection spreads.”

“They really don't paint as accurate a picture as you've been led to believe.”

As the mixture began to thicken into a dough, Lillian joined Irma on sitting on the island counter.

“So what's college like?”

“Classes are boring, my roommate sucks, and I'm drowning in student loans. But the parties are fun, and the people are cool when they aren't being pretentious tools.”

Lillian hummed.

“I can't wait until I go to college. Community's one of my favourite shows.”

“Heh, well, Community is an exaggeration for the sake of comedy, but...”

“Cornelia, what's your college like?”

“You saw it when you and Mom and Dad helped me move in,” Cornelia pointed out, distracted as she began to knead the dough.

“Yeah, but it's not the same! Your dorm is nice, sure, but what about the classes? The parties? The boys?”

“Hmm, I don't know about that. Boys aren't my area of expertise.”

“Well that's gay.”

Irma raised her eyebrows.

“Using 'gay' as an insult? Very 2004 of you.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sorry. So you don't have a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Irma said shortly.

Cornelia began to knead a little harder.

“I bet you know stuff about Cornelia's boyfriend though,” Lillian said to Irma, arms folded. “Why doesn't she talk about him? Is he secretly ugly?”

Irma snorted.

“Ha. I know a thing or two, but he's actually... probably the most handsome person I've ever known. Aside from your sister!” She playfully punched Lillian on the arm, who looked unimpressed by the statement. Cornelia made a strangled sound.

“Lillian, pass me the cookie cutters, please,” she choked.

Lillian raised her eyebrows and hopped off the counter top, retrieving ones shaped like pine trees and angels and bells, handing them to Cornelia.

“Here they are, weirdo. Anyway, you can't blame me for being curious! We had to pry it out of you that you were seeing anyone at all, and you're always so twitchy when we bring him up. Irma, is he a junkie or a biker or something?”

“Nope, just a loser who lies around watching cartoons all day,” Irma responded with a lazy grin.

“So you have a thing in common.”

“Lillian!” Cornelia admonished, slamming a cookie cutter into the dough with enough force to make the other shapes jump. “Also, Irma, I don't appreciate you calling my partner a loser.”

Lillian pulled a face.

“Partner? What are you, old timers?”

“Cowboys,” Irma chimed in.

“Oh, stop teasing me,” Cornelia huffed. “I'm just trying to be more inclusive. The world could do with more of that, you know.”

Lillian shrugged. “Whatever. So you're liberal now?”

“I reckon I've always been, yes.”

“And you, Irma?”

“Socialist, through and through.”

“Of course you are.”

“Just wait until college, Lillian,” Irma chided with a smile, as Cornelia began setting out the Christmas cookies on the tray. “There's a whole wide world out there.”

…

The Italian restaurant Harold took them to that night was fucking fancy, to say the least. The kind of fancy where there were lemon-scented wipes in little packets on every table and complimentary garlic dough balls and everyone was in suits and dresses. The Hales looked like they fit right in, and Irma was some vagrant they'd picked up off of the streets and were treating to dinner in a commendable act of charity.

“I don't even know what half the stuff on this menu is,” Irma hissed to Cornelia as they took their seats.

“It's good food,” Cornelia promised. “They just use posh names to scare people into thinking its worth the money they're paying. Come on, you watch enough Hell's Kitchen to know what filet mignon is.”

Irma ended up ordering something that she was pretty sure was some kind of beef thing, and Cornelia ordered the one pasta dish on the menu that used aubergines instead of pancetta. The wine was decent at least, and Irma found it easier to sneak glances at Cornelia's cleavage in the scoop neck dress she was wearing with the large flower centrepiece obscuring them from her parents. Lillian, while looking the part in a simple white turtle neck dress, was very obviously playing on her phone under the table.

The sweet onion soup starters arrived swiftly, and Irma was dragged back into a light grilling about her teaching degree from Harold, while Elizabeth began to catch Cornelia up with the latest family drama.

“Why, I just think it's so inspiring that you're choosing to act as a beacon for young people, and pave their futures-”

“-And your uncle, of course, is still coming around asking for money, as if your grandparents don't have enough to worry about-”

“-And you know, teaching qualifications open up the whole world to you! You could teach in international schools, or you could teach English in schools where it's a secondary language-”

“-It's not like their health is getting any better, you know! I keep telling him it's time to stand on his own two feet, he's certainly old enough-”

The moment that their waiter came to take the dishes away, Irma hurriedly excused herself.

In the bathroom (one of those spotless white ones with tiny shell-shaped soaps and embossed toilet paper because of course, rich people) Irma took a few moments to collect herself, staring at her reflection in dismay. She'd done her best to look presentable, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb in this kind of environment. Her dress was a little tight since the last time she'd worn it was for graduation, and her choker was crooked. Her bun was already starting to look lopsided, the redness of her cheeks was starting to show through the base Cornelia had applied that morning...

“Why am I not as perfect as the folks out there?” she muttered to herself, eyes narrowing as she glared at her reflection. She reached for one of the shell-shaped hand soaps and began to pick it with the edge of her fingernail. Absently, the faucet turned and water began to gush out, thrumming to the beat of her frustration.

After a few minutes of self-loathing and contemplation, she heard the sound of the door open behind her, and saw a flash of Irish green fabric, before Cornelia came up behind her, a vision of concern. She startled as the small army of water gushing from the faucet turned on her, almost letting out a hiss of steam, before Irma quickly called it off, allowing it to taper down the drain and out of sight.

“Irma, are you okay? My parents thought I should check on you in case the wine didn't agree with you, but...”

“Yeah, it isn't the wine,” Irma sighed. “It's this whole place. I can't fucking believe your dad called this place rustic on the way here.”

“He doesn't know the meaning of the word,” Cornelia agreed with a giggle. She wrapped her arms around Irma, leaning down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Really?” Irma sighed. “I don't feel it. Or is this a classic 'lying to your girlfriend's face so she doesn't start crying in a stupidly fancy bathroom' tactic?”

“Well, it wouldn't be a great start to the meal.” Cornelia pressed a kiss to her jaw. “But I'm serious. You look great.”

“I'm practically bursting out of this dress. My tits are fighting for freedom. And my hair is coming undone and my stupid face is getting stupid red!”

“Of course it is, you've been drinking,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “And your face is the furthest thing from stupid, so don't even start.”

“I'm past the point of starting, Corny, I'm waist-fucking-deep in it. Look at this damn soap.” She gestured aggressively towards a shrivelled pebble in the basin. “That was shaped like a fucking seashell when I came in here and I picked and picked at it and now it looks like, I don't know, a really tiny golf ball?”

“Wow. Okay, let's take a step back from the soap.” Cornelia spun her around and rested her hands on her shoulders. “Irma, you look wonderful tonight. Seriously, you do, and I hate that going to this stupid dinner has made you so worked up.”

“It's not just the dinner.” Irma frowned up at her so-tall-it-was-unfair girlfriend. “Look at us. I mean, really look. We're like chalk and cheese, except, you're too pretty to be chalk. We're like – I don't know! An oil painting and cheese! I don't belong here eating food so fancy I can't pronounce it with wine I'm too weak to drink and in a dress that's too tiny for my damn good. You might fit into this magazine-spread life where everything is minimalist and perfect and velvet but I just don't. I saw it in the mirror this morning and I saw it in the mirror again just now. Are you honestly okay with that?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Cornelia asked, the smile gone from her face. “I love you. I love having you in my life. Sure, I like the nice material stuff sometimes, but if you think for one second that I'd put that stuff before you – before us – then the wine has definitely gone to your head.”

Irma huffed. After a beat, she muttered, “Rich people wine is ridiculous.”

“Agreed. Now, listen to me. We're too deep into this relationship to be hitting insecurities over stuff like this, got it? You know I come from money. You wanted to come on this trip with me. Unfortunately, that means seeing the way my family lives up close and personal. I just want you to remember that doesn't define me, or how I feel about you. I want you here. Okay?”

“I hate when you're being reasonable,” Irma groaned. She hugged Cornelia tight.

“Oof. Heh, don't tell me you're drunk already, we have the rest of a dinner to get through.”

“Are you gonna tell your parents tonight?” Irma mumbled into Cornelia's waist.

Cornelia hummed uncertainly. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“Well, remember I still love you. If you don't wanna come out here in this stupid fancy restaurant, no pressure. We'll make it happen some other time.”

“Hey, no need to comfort me, you're the one feeling insecure,” Cornelia teased. Irma lifted her head up to protest, and was met with Cornelia's lips pressing against her forehead.

“Ugh, you're too cute,” whined Irma. “If I weren't wearing heels I would go on my tiptoes and kiss you. And if you weren't wearing heels, we might actually be fucking level for once.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” Cornelia quipped. “Not to worry, I can accommodate you.”

She leaned down and cupped Irma's cheeks, pulling her into a kiss.

The sound of the bathroom door abruptly shutting ended the sickeningly sweet moment, and they jolted apart. Lillian stood there, wide-eyed.

“Uhhh. Mom told me to come get you two, the main courses are out...” She blinked a few times. “Are you guys... lesbians?”

“Lillian,” Cornelia started, voice strained.

“I'm a lesbian,” Irma said with a shrug and an awkward chuckle.

“So you called me ignorant earlier even though you really are gay?”

“Ignorance is ignorance, sis.”

“Lillian, please don't tell Mom and Dad about this,” Cornelia pleaded. “I'm going to tell them myself, I just haven't had time to yet.”

Lillian folded her arms and huffed.

“I can't believe your mystery guy is just Irma.”

“Oh, ouch?”

Cornelia let go of Irma and approached Lillian.

“I'm serious. Can you please promise me you won't say anything?”

Lillian shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, I don't care about it. Not like they'd believe me anyway.” Seeing Cornelia's pinched expression, she sighed loudly. “All right, no. No, I won't say anything. So you can stop looking at me like that! Now come on, or Mom will be next to find us in here.”

As she pushed open the door to leave, she turned back.

“Also, Irma, you've got lipstick on your face. Hard to play dumb when the evidence is right there on your forehead.”

“When did she become such a smartass?” Irma muttered as Cornelia fished around in her clutch, bringing out a make-up wipe. “Look, don't panic. Lillian might be a pain, but she respects your business. Probably. I mean, I don't know her that well, but it's none of her business right? She knows that.”

“How did she seem to you?” Cornelia asked, chewing her lip. “Uncomfortable? Freaked out? D-Disgusted?”

“None. It was the same kind of grossed out she got when she caught you making out with Peter for the first time, I reckon. It was sibling disgust, not, y'know, her being a phobe.”

“Are you sure?” Cornelia fretted.

“Super sure. Now come on, you heard what she said. Lets go back before your mom drags us back by the ears.”

Irma reached over to squeeze her hand and didn't let go until they were out of the bathroom and in sight of the Hales. Elizabeth turned and shot them a disapproving look, motioning them back over, and Harold's face lit up with a delighted smile.

“I was starting to think the two of you had fallen in!” he joked, as they took their seats. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything's fine,” Cornelia promised, a lie rolling effortlessly from her tongue as Irma stared down at the steak au poivre in front of her. “Irma just smudged her mascara and needed me to come to her rescue.”

“Ah, I see. Surely it shouldn't take that long though?” Elizabeth turned to Lillian. “Were they taking selfies?”

“Oh, they were having a gay old time in there,” Lillian deadpanned.

Cornelia froze. Irma dared to look up from her food to stare daggers at Lillan.

A moment passed, and Harold shrugged.

“Well, I'll never understand it, myself. But the youth of today are always finding beauty in everything! They can make moments last a lifetime! And I'm envious that an entire generation has learned to take pictures from an angle that certainly appear more flattering in post-production...”

As his speech continued, the tension melted away. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the two of them, as if to silently chastise them for sending Harold on a spiel about technological advancements, before tucking into her food.

Cornelia swiftly kicked Lillian under the table, but all she got back in response was an impish grin.

…

“Urgh, I'm full to burst.”

A now pyjama-clad Irma flopped face down on the pull-out bed, before rolling onto her side and burping softly into the back of her hand.

“I told warned you against dessert, if you recall,” Cornelia said with a grin, pulling her nightgown over her head.

“Yeah, but they had cheesecake. You know I'm weak for cheesecake, Corny.”

“That I do.” Cornelia lay down beside her. “I was a bundle of nerves the whole night.”

“Aw, come here.” Irma pulled Cornelia close, combing her fingers through her hair. “Lillian was just being a brat, that's all. She's got dirt on you, of course she's gonna poke a little fun. But she wasn't about to out you or anything.”

“I know,” Cornelia groaned. “I know. But she's on thin ice, I'm telling you now!”

“Well, the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner she'll lose that power over you,” Irma pointed out. She yawned. “I'm pooped. Can you turn the light off? And then come spoon me?”

“Sure, your highness,” teased Cornelia, prying Irma's hands off her waist. As she wandered over to the light switch near the hallway, she caught sight of Lillian leaving the bathroom. The two stood there in silence for a few moments, before Cornelia uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lillian shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Hey, Cornelia?”

“Yeah?”

“Um. I know I didn't say it at the restaurant, but... I don't like, mind or anything. About you and Irma.”

Relief washed over her.

“You don't?”

“No! And you should stop caring that somebody does, you know? Mom and Dad are whatever. I don't know if they'd care about it. But, it shouldn't matter if we mind or not, that's my point. It's about you and Irma, not about the rest of us. Although, since you're a lesbian now, I wish you had better taste in girls. I've seen her eat peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers,” Lillian pointed out, pulling a face.

Cornelia, stunned by the overload of information, leaned back against the wall.

“With her fingers?”

“Yup. It was our house peanut butter, too!”

Cornelia buried her head in her hands. “Oh my god. If I didn't love her so damn much that would for sure be a deal breaker. Also, I'm not a lesbian.”

“You're not?”

“No. I loved Peter, remember?”

Lillian pouted. “Yeah. I miss him.”

“I know you do, you remind me all the time.” Cornelia squared her shoulders. “Lillian, I'm pansexual.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow. “Pansexual?”

“Yes. Pansexual. I... fancy people regardless of whether they're a guy, a girl, or nonbinary.”

“Nonbinary?”

“The internet is a great place to learn about this stuff, since you're on the track to being an ally now.”

Lillian giggled.

“Yeah, I guess. Well, okay. So you're not gay, you're... what's the short of it? Pan?”

Cornelia nodded wordlessly.

“Okay. Cool. You're pan. And Irma's your girlfriend. And she's a lesbian?”

“Yes. You caught on fast.”

With a shrug, Lillian said simply, “It wasn't that hard to grasp. You're pan, Irma's gay, you're dating. That's that.”

Cornelia's mouth opened and closed a few times. At last, she uttered, “You made that seem really easy.”

“I'm a smart and socially aware kid,” Lillian said proudly, hands on her hips. Her smug expression softened. “And I'm happy you're happy. I was kinda thinking, cause you never mentioned your 'mystery uni boyfriend', that maybe you didn't really like him. I'm glad it's just a mix up.”

Cornelia's heart swelled, and she stepped towards Lillian, hugging her tight.

“You're a good sister.”

“And you're a clingy sister, god!”

They bid goodnight and Cornelia climbed into bed beside Irma, who had her back to her and was softly groaning. She yelped as Cornelia wriggled under the covers.

“Holy crap, Corny, your feet are colder than Mount fucking Thanos!”

“So warm me up.”

“Sorry, you got the wrong guardian for that party trick.”

Cornelia rolled her eyes fondly and reached around to spoon her.

“Geez, you ate too much. Your stomach feels like a rock.”

“Don't bully me, that was rich people food! How many times am I gonna get to eat like that again, huh?”

“If you'd just let me take you fancy places-” Cornelia pointed out.

“You know I hate fancy places!” whined Irma, punctuated by another burp. “Ugh. Just cuddle me to sleep, jerk.”

“Who are you calling a jerk, jerk?”

Cornelia obliged nonetheless, letting her body wrap around Irma's with a familiarity that had adapted over the years; from guardian sleepovers to family vacations to just the two of them drunkenly sprawled out in Cornelia's dorm. And now here they were, fitting together like jigsaw pieces, water and earth.

“Sweet dreams,” Cornelia whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Irma's neck.

“Keep your lips to yourself, Corny,” mumbled Irma sleepily, snuggling closer all the same.

#w.i.t.c.h.#w.i.t.c.h #cornirma #irmelia #femslash february #cornelia x irma #irma x cornelia #cornelia hale #irma lair #irma/cornelia #cornelia/irma #writing

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