#a waif...I mean yeah you were tiny

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

I always kinda laughed at the different types of lives our parents came from

Well educated social media analyst (once only *shrugs*)

Poor brilliant devil (if not crazy and wrapped up in hedonism....especially with sex)

A south and a north. The one in the north(fuck you north is still north even easterly which is west)

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

[wisherbysharlight]

WHAT IF... SANDERS SIDES BUT MAKE IT A TROPEY TEEN BEACH AU

Endgame!LAMP. Dukeceit, Remile

Just 2k stream of consciousness words from a plunny that grew legs TW for v slight underage drinking, one joking mention of violence, and a non-specific discussion of intrusive thoughts

-Janus has just moved there because his parents wanted to start a new "adventure" and he is a Stereotypical Teenager. Very "ugh MOM I wanna go back to my FRIENDS for my LAST SUMMER BEFORE COLLEGE"(most of his friends suck. He should not spend time with them. He does not know this)

His Parents buy him a surfboard and tell him to try it out as a way to get him to Shut Up

Hes a Skater Boy(cue music) so he picks it up super fast from like,,, youtube videos

 -He gets told to Get a Job if he wants to like, keep buying surf gear?

All the local kids work at like one restaurant/yacht club type place right on the beach

Janus gets hired as a host

 -Logan is a beach badge checker, Patton, Roman, and Remus are beachfront restaurant waiters but Roman just Really Wants To Surf, Emile and Virgil are Lifeguards, and Remy is a bartender

 -Janus is Very Good At Customer Service because Fake Smiles

Patton recognizes this Immediately

He shows him the Rage Closet which is a tiny room with an arm chair that locks from the inside where you can punch a pillow on your break when it gets to be Too Much

-Janus is Attached now and there is no getting rid of him

Patton Fully Endorses this and introduces him to the rest of the group

Janus Knows Immediately that LAMP is In Love but says nothing because he aint no snitch

-Remus surfs, but he also always wear a thong while doing it

Roman wears a full wetsuit and somehow still gets Board Rash. Remus is somehow immune and it infuriates him

 -Janus, not knowing that the twins live right on the beach cuz they are RichTM: Hey Ree I kinda wanna learn how to surf would you be able to teach me 

Remus, who religiously watches Janus surf every morning, but is absolutely willing to play this game: Yeah absolutely

Patton, later: “lets rinse off at the twins they’re right here” Janus: theyre.... What?!

 -Meanwhile, elsewhere, Virgil and Roman are double teaming Logan to drag him into the water with them cuz he’s pouting about losing a debate with their manager about how he didn’t really be mean to the dudebro who wanted to get his buddies onto the beach without paying, he was just enforcing the rules. And if the dude was so offended by Logan’s Very Accurate Dragging that he complained to management then, well, that’s his problem not Logan’s

 -Logan is never without a book. Ever. And its always a different book. Janus is starting to think he owns a library

One day he is just... reading a Physics textbook. Not taking notes or anything. Just reading. 

Roman is Very Very Alarmed by this because he is Gay and Math is Scary

"Roman I'm also gay that is not a determining factor"

"Yeah but you can't drive"

"...fair"

 -the first time janus has a shift with the twins, he cant stop staring, not just because hes like,,, super attracted to Remus but also because they are like Chaos Incarnate and yet somehow get the most tips??? He doesn't understand???

It's just cuz they are both Huge Flirts and Flatterers and the patrons dont care that they're not-so-subtly beating the shit out of each other right there on the dining floor because theyre just so charming

 -one of the bartenders gets aggressively snapped at by a customer and called "sweetheart" and before Janus can even begin to react Remy is there, sunglasses off, fire in his eyes, telling them to settle their bill and get the fuck out

Janus, used to City Restaurants- "Wont you get in trouble with the owner?!"

Remy, who knows Nothing Else But This- "What?? Not likely I only did it cuz Thomathy wasnt here to do it himself"

 -the restaurant is closed Monday and Tuesday so that is the Pseudo Weekend for the staff where everyone hangs out at the beach

Emile and Virgil take Tuesdays off but still work Monday’s cuz they feel better being the one watching over their friends

 -Roman, staring at Virgil on the lifeguard stand: ugh he’s so pretty I almost wish I was drowning just so he could give me cpr 

Janus: you wanna potentially get your ribs broken just for lip contact? 

Remy, staring at Emile on the lifeguard stand: listen, if that’s what it takes, I’ll take it

Remus, immediately going up to the lifeguard stand because he has 0 impulse control: hey my brother and cousin want you to break their ribs 

Virgil and Emile: excuse me?????

 -Patton will literally spend hours in the water. Logan physically drags him out to put sunscreen on him every two hours to the minute. Patton does not admit that he purposely "forgets" just so Logan will do so

Logan is Dark and has never used sunscreen ever but Patton is so pale and he just gets so concerned about him. Patton thinks its adorable

He has pages of research on proper spf determination.

Roman and Remus use spf 15 just on their faces and have never once burned in their lives

Logan wants to submit them for scientific study because that shouldnt be possible

Virgil calls Logan out on the fact that he also should be wearing sunscreen and Logan like... blue screens he cant believe in all his research he missed that

 -Patton is like... a ridiculously strong swimmer. Virgil still has a heart attack every time he goes for laps when there is the slightest hint of an undertow

Patton Knows This so he tries to stay in Virgil's sight line for the most part if there is an undertow. Or just dives over the waves again and again.

His nickname is Ariel. He thinks its just cuz of the swimming and the fact hes a red head. LAP all separately also tack on that its the swimming, the red hair, and the hnng pretty 10/10 would follow out to sea ala Prince Eric

 -first beach bonfire Janus goes to Remy is Fully In Emile's Lap like... half an hour in

he has had like maybe a sip of a beer

Remus says he still claims this is because he is a Clingy Drunk

no one will call him on it, least of all Emile

 -there is truth or dare. Roman may or may not skinny dip you have no proof

 -Logan gets infuriated that he cannot roast a marshmallow properly

Patton does it perfectly every single time but its ok cuz he shares and Logan eats it right from his fingers and Roman and Virgil are just in the background Trying and Failing not to be the Most Jealous

Patton thinks theyre upset they didn't get marshmallows and makes some for them too and there is lots of Significant Eye Contact involved

Janus is going to spontaneously combust if they don't get their shit together

 -Janus is out walking on the beach one night on a full moon cuz he cant sleep with everything so quiet around here when he sees a bright green patch out in the water and goes ...wait

he calls out to Remus and he comes into shore and is like "waves are perfect at night you should join me" so janus goes back and gets his board and they surf and chat for like the entire night

Janus finds out Remus couldn't sleep cuz intrusive thoughts were keeping him awake

Janus listens and doesn't judge, just lets Remus talk it out

They go back to shore and fall asleep on the sand next to each other like mid sentence still talking, now about whatever creative business idea Remus had, and get woken up by Logan's morning rounds like "come on guys you know you're not allowed to sleep out here" but they dont care theyre both just *blushing emoji*

-Logan Always Has A Notebook right? And a regular book he reads. And everyone assumes they are like Notions and Observations, but no, it’s actually blank paper and he uses it to sketch and then one day he leaves it behind and someone either Virgil or Patton finds it and flips through it and it’s all sketches of them and Roman and they’re like??? Actually really good? Anyway that’s how they find out Logan is actually minoring in art even though he’s majoring in something Very STEM 

And he never told his best friends because like almost all his pre college art is Them and he doesn’t want to be caught having Feelings and by the time it gets to college it’s been too long and he can’t tell them now 

Roman takes one of the sketches of him surfing and makes it his profile picture on All Social Media He Has and Logan is so flustered he nearly breaks his damn phone

Patton is so offended he didn’t get invited to Logan’s first showcase that he doesn’t talk to him for like two whole hours 

Virgil quietly asks if there is any art of all four of them, finds out there is, and makes a print and keeps it on his bedside table

 -They are all Pining Outwardly Now and its Worse

 -Remus : you have known them since pre-k please ask them out I beg of you 

Roman: You just dont get it 

Remus: I asked Janus out after 4 weeks what is your problem

 Emile: Virgil, I love you, you are my Partner in Anti-Drowning but you are so stupid 

Virgil: What???? All I said is that you and Remy are really cute and I'd love to be in a relationship like that 

Emile: I am not a violent person, Virgil, but I have the strong urge to smack you

 Patton, in the Rage Closet: They're all just so hOT and ReSPEctFUL 

Janus, waiting for his turn, trying to act like he cant hear him: I Am Looking Elsewhere

 Logan: I just don't understand why they were more upset that I didn't tell them than that I'd been making art of them for years?? Shouldn't that second part be worse??

Remy, who has been partial to Every Single One Of AMP Waxing Poetic About Logan: Yeah, no idea /s

 -the twins get into a surfing competition as a pair and everyone goes to see them and support them

Thomas airs the competition on every tv in the restaurant cuz he’s Proud of his Bois

They WIN cuz they are Creative and Talented and came up with all sorts of crazy tricks while they were fucking around in the water but it earns them Major Bonus Points for originality

 -Roman does the run off the podium and into Love’s arms trope with just like... whoever’s closest lets go Patton because he is a Waif and forced himself up front so he can see

The other two are Devastated because well shit but then Roman pushes through the crowd, still holding Patton’s hand, and gives them this smile and is like “remember in like second grade when we said we’d do everything together and made a pact on this beach”

Analogical: uhhhhhh yeah

Roman: holding you both to it. No take backs. This counts. Now kiss me, dammit, we WON and they DO MANY TIMES AND ITS REAL CUTE

 -Meanwhile dukeceit have Mysteriously Disappeared and No One wants to be the ones to go find them. They show back up, eventually. Janus has a branch in his hair and remus' hair is sticking straight up and when he opens his mouth roman glares at him and tells him in no uncertain terms that they do not want to know

 AnYWaY these are my children and I will gladly answer any questions about them. I left out Janus Backstory and Creativitwins Angst and Many Individual LAMP Scenes and Remile/Dukeceit getting together and Epilogue but can absolutely provide such things on request

[snarkymonkeyprime]

You said you needed some prompts right? How’s this for a little snippet?

Dean and Sam accidentally time travel to when Cas was female and they’re looking for ways to get back but neither of them know Cas is... Cas so Dean starts heavily flirting with our amazing femme fatale and then Cas gives him the “..Dean.” and Dean of course loses his mind because that obviously can’t be Cas but holy crap it is

And long story short they find out that all three time traveled but only Dean and Sam stayed the same since they weren’t alive yet and they whip up some angel magic and go home with Dean’s lone star braincell still dinging around his head like a broken screensaver

Hmmm.................:D

     It wasn’t like when Balthazar launched them through that real window into a fake one.  Not quite so seamless.  No, this time, Dean was launched into a wall, the end-table he’d collided with cracking to pieces and Sam had let out the most unholy screech as he’d slammed into the shut door at Dean’s right.

     Injured, but not one to miss a chance, he wheezed, “First time with a door, Sam?”

     His brother kicked him in the calf before lumbering to his feet.  “Holy shit,” he grunted.  He straightened, wincing.  “What the hell happened?”

     Dean sat up, checking for injuries.  Other than ego and some bruising, nothing.  He glanced around, unnerved to find that it wasn’t anywhere he recognized.  Drop cloths scattered the surfaces of furniture, including the one he’d destroyed with his ass.  He hopped to his feet, brushing invisible dirt from his jacket.

     “Balthazar?”  He squinted through the silent room.  “Cas?”

     “Huh.”  Sam tugged on the door he’d crashed into, nodding when it swung open on quiet hinges.  “Well, we’re in someone’s house.”

     “Yeah, but whose?”  Dean pushed Sam back, peering down the well-lit hall.  Crystal sconces glittered with flame, the smell of oil thick in the air.  “Uh, this place is old.”  Old but new.  Everything looked the height of opulence but by virtue of the gas lamps, nowhere near their own decade.

     “Uh, shouldn’t they have warned us?” Sam grumbled.

     Dean considered.  The box they’d found.  That ornate, steam trunk.  As soon as they’d opened it, this had happened.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  He looked at Sam, catching the understanding.  “Why the hell was that in the bunker?”

     “Not my fault,” Sam protested.  He sighed, scratching his head.  “Can you reach Cas?  Maybe your . . .” he waved a hand, “. . . bond will cross time or something.”

     Dean’s face flushed but he tried.  He shut his eyes, pricking that thin line that he knew connected him to the stoic angel.  “Uh, breaker breaker, Cas,” he muttered.  “Bit of a shitstorm we got, pal.”

     The click of heels pulled him from his attempt.  He stiffened, glancing down the hall toward the woman who had stepped through the door at his left.

     He plastered his best, charming smile, hoping like fuck his clothing didn’t look too odd.  He was fairly certain he and Sam didn’t blend but hopefully, they could figure out where and when they were and find a way back.

     The woman hadn’t moved, merely watched Dean with startling blue eyes, black hair loose and soft along her neck and shoulders.  She squinted but remained silent.

     Okay, maybe she’s not all there.  Good, good.  He could work with that.  She was striking, though.  Tall and slender but not waif-like.  The dress she wore was a simple dark blue, the laced up corset black with white trim.  She stepped close, the bustle behind her shifting as she moved.

     “You aren’t meant to be here,” she stated, voice smoky and accented.

     Fuck, we’re in England?  Crap.  He grinned but she only squinted again in response.  “Um,” he coughed, thinking quickly.  He knew Sam was giving him a death glare but Dean plastered his best cockney bullshit and swaggered closer.  “Wrong turn and all, Miss.  We’s best be on our way.”  He doffed an imaginary cap and started shooing Sam toward what he thought was the front door.

     To his surprise, the woman only shook her head, striding up to Dean in a manner that felt far too familiar.  Less than a foot away, she met Dean’s eyes, mouth a tight line.  “No, you’re early.  And in the wrong country.”

     “Uh,” Dean swallowed, unnerved.  He didn’t know what it was about this oddball lady but everything she was doing reminded him of someone far older and more male.  He laughed nervously.  “Just . . . wrong turn, Miss,” he tried again.

     She shook her head, dark hair falling in careful waves.  “Dean.  You are very bad at lying.”

     He stared.

     She stared back, unperturbed.

     “H-how do . . .” he laughed, the sound high-pitched and whistling.  “Uh, h-h-what . . .”

     Her blue eyes didn’t drift from his when she intoned, “Sam.  I assume he touched something he shouldn’t have?”  She turned then to Sam, the same impassive look transplanted on the taller Winchester.

     It was Sam who picked up faster.  “Castiel?” he squawked.

     She frowned but nodded.  “Indeed.”  She poked a finger in Dean’s chest.  “I’m assuming this was a trick of Gabriel’s.”  Her frown darkened.  “Or Balthazar.”  She sighed.  “No matter.”  She lifted her hand, fingertips hovering over Dean’s forehead.  “Hold still.”

     “Wait!” Dean gripped her wrist, meeting her - Castiel’s - eyes.  That familiar blue.  He could see his friend behind her eyes.  The ageless creature he loved.  He paled, swallowing hard.  “Cas . . . is it . . .”

     Her look softened, the faintest of smiles lifting the corner of her lips.  “Try not to be upset when you see me again.”

     This time, Dean frowned.  “Why the hell would I be pissed?”

     She blinked, tugging her hand free to sweep it down her side.  “This vessel.  More to your liking, yes?”  Again, that odd smile.  

     “Oh, like I care about that,” he snapped.  “Your vessel could be a fucking mailbox, Cas; wouldn’t change how I feel.”  And then reddened when both Castiel and Sam stared at him.  “Ignore that,” he muttered, grabbing her hand and pressing her fingers to his forehead.  “Okay.  Zap me.  Now.”

     A full smile bloomed on Castiel’s face.  “I love you, too, Dean.”  She tilted her head.  “But please, stop touching things.”

     The return trip was far less painful, at least on a physical level.  He and Sam were once more standing in front of the steamer trunk, the lid firmly in place.  He squatted down and peered at the markings along one of the old copper bands and bit back a curse.

     Tiny but clear, the smallest etching of a certain annoying archangel, middle fingers on full display.

     “Oh, fuck you, Gabe,” he muttered.  He rose and turned when he realized Sam had been fully silent.

     Sam was struggling not to laugh, his face red and tears streaming down his face.  “A mailbox?” he wheezed.

    “Oh, fuck you, too,” Dean muttered.

     Sam held his hands out as he followed Dean from the storage room.  “Castiel, my Castiel!  Please, send my taxes to the government, my love!”

     “Fuck you, Sam!”

     “Hello, Dean.”

     He stopped, turning to see Castiel in the doorway of his borrowed room.

     Sam slapped his shoulder and pushed past, singing “Hey, Mr. Postman” on his way toward the kitchen.

     Castiel watched him go for a moment before focusing on Dean again.  “I didn’t mean to create a problem for you.”  He looked away then, looking unusually timid.  “No matter my vessel, I know what I feel for you.  But I do understand it may --” he fell silent when Dean grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss.

     Dean sighed as he pulled back, grinning at the amazement across Castiel’s face as he did.  “Thought you knew everything that happened across all time?”

    Castiel’s dark lashes fluttered as he raised a cautious hand, letting it rest on Dean’s chest.  “I avoided what might . . . hurt to know.”

     Dean kissed him again, relaxing when the angel did the same, molding to his arms in the way he’d been dreaming of for too many years.  He pulled away again, swiping a thumb along Castiel’s jawbone.  “You know, you were a pretty hot babe.”

     The angel frowned and opened his mouth, snapping it shut when Dean continued.

     “This vessel’s pretty hot, too.”

     Castiel smiled then, an echo of the raven-haired mistress he’d met.  “Is it?” he murmured.

     Dean laughed then, stealing another kiss.  “It’s the eyes though.  I know those eyes.”  

     “As I know this heart,” Castiel replied.

     “Now who’s being sappy?” Dean chided.  He winced when he caught Sam bellowing more of that damn song.  “Goddammit,” he muttered.  Revenge was very quickly forgotten when Castiel drew him into the room, shutting the door tightly.

     He hated thinking he owed Gabriel for this one.  

[artificialqueens]

Not Nineteen Forever (21) (Branjie/Scyvie/Ninex) - Ortega

a/n: omg i’m emotional. guys, welcome to the last chapter of n19f. this fic has been the absolute best fun to write and i truly love these girls and the journey they’ve been on so much. big big huge thanks and love to every single person that’s ever left a note, hit reblog or left me lovely anons, DMs, comments or tags, they’ve all meant the absolute world to me and i love u so much. obviously i can’t let things go, so keep an eye out for some form of sequel coming in the next few months or so (patience is a virtue xo). for one last time…….let’s go, lesbians!!!!!!!

please note: this fic contains young adults often behaving in irresponsible/unadvisable ways with regards to alcohol, drugs and sex. if you are someone who feels as if they could be heavily influenced by fic and incorporate what happens in the plot into ur own life, pls steer clear!

tw: bit of weed in this one. no zoos, dw xo

summary: Brooke, Yvie and Nina are three flatmates who forged a friendship in their first year of university and picked up some other waifs and strays along the way. Now in their final year, there are feelings that need to be unravelled and confessions to be made whilst navigating drunk nights, hungover mornings, takeaways, group chats, library meetups, cafe gossiping, and the small matter of getting a degree.

last chapter: the girls all went to the beach, Scarlet and Yvie made plans for after uni, and Scarlet got the degree classification she so desperately wanted.

this chapter: it’s Brooke’s graduation day.

***

Brooke looked around at the chaos that was their kitchen. The kitchen utensils (which were all Nina’s that she and Yvie had shamelessly used as if they were their own over the 2 years they’d lived together) were wrapped up in bubble wrap and packed neatly into cardboard boxes which sat on top of the dining table. Yvie’s kitchenware- a blue bowl with a chip out of it, a huge white plate, a Tigger mug, and a mismatched fork, knife and spoon- had been inelegantly packed into an orange Sainsbury’s bag and left on the counter. Brooke had already packed up her own belongings and had moved them into a corner of her room so they wouldn’t take up space in the already-tiny kitchen. All their store cupboard food was in the process of being packed up for the foodbank, which was inevitably going to be flooded with the discarded super noodles, tinned soups and flavoured teas of the migrating tenants of student flats.

Yvie let out a snort from her position in front of their food cupboards, and Brooke’s heart gave a twinge at seeing them so empty. Top shelf had been hers: pasta, rice, stock cubes, and emergency maple syrup tin. The middle shelf was Nina’s: loaf of white bread, tins of tuna, ryvita, breadsticks, crisps. And Yvie’s food had occupied the bottom shelf: chocolate digestives, Ainsely Harriott cous cous, peanut butter, and sour patch kids. All gone. Except, Brooke noticed, for a jar of Marmite which had sat on the middle shelf and that Yvie was holding in her hand.

“Whose was the Marmite?” she asked, an amused tone to her voice. Nina shrugged from her position on the sofa.

“I’ve never once eaten Marmite.”

“It’s on your shelf, girl,” Yvie shrugged, her eyebrows questioning. Nina gave another shrug.

“I know. It’s always lived there. I swear to God it just turned up one day and I left it there. Thought it was one of yours because Christ knows you’re both too lazy to put it on your own damn shelves,” Nina reprimanded them both. Brooke laughed.

“You know you’re going to regret being so mean to us when you don’t live with us any more and we’re adults and it takes 9 months to clear our schedules for one singular coffee,” she raised her eyebrows at her flatmate as Nina pouted and let out a groan, held out her arms for a hug which Brooke fell into.

“Don’t! This is already too heartbreaking, I can’t believe we only have two days left here.”

“I can’t believe we’re actually organised with this moving out process.”

“I can’t believe we have a phantom jar of Marmite that nobody’s claiming,” Yvie piped up, peering at the jar with interest. “Brooke, you like this shit, right?”

“Marmite is Satan’s black fecal matter and I’m offended you think I eat it,” she deadpanned, shifting to get comfy in Nina’s lap whilst attempting to be as inconvenient as possible to her friend.

“Get the hell off me. Only my girlfriend is allowed to sit on me for so long that I lose feeling in my legs,” Nina huffed, shoving at Brooke until she relented and sat beside her. It didn’t stop her from putting her cold feet on her bare thigh though, and Nina hissed and jumped away. “I take it all back. I’m not going to miss either of you idiots at all.”

“You’re a crap liar,” Yvie smiled smugly, binning the Marmite and joining the two girls on the sofa, squeezing in between them both. “Awh, guys…it’s the end of an era.”

Brooke suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes out of nowhere. “Shut up. We’ve still got tomorrow and the next day.”

“Yeah, but tomorrow you’re gonna be doing graduation-y shit and then it’s moving day!” Nina protested. Her voice grew small, dropping to a murmur. “It’s kind of like it’s our last day.”

The girls fell silent. Yvie let out a huge puff of air from her lungs. “Don’t tell anyone I said this but I’m gonna miss you girls so fucking much.”

“Awh, Yves. I’ll miss you too,” Nina sighed, burying her face into Yvie’s shoulder and curling her arms around one of Yvie’s. “But this is good! Change is good, even if it’s scary and different. And you’re gonna be living with Scarlet! That’s exciting!”

“How’s the flat hunting going?” Brooke asked Yvie, who had a little smile on her face. Brooke didn’t know if Yvie knew that she always began to smile a little whenever Scarlet was mentioned. She wasn’t going to mention it to her. She would maybe mention it to Scarlet.

“Like I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” Yvie groaned, running her hands down her face. “It’ll be fine, though. We’ve got a while. Her lease isn’t up until August so we’ve got a few weeks to keep looking and in the meantime I’ll just stay with her in that Dickensian death trap she calls a flat.”

The girls let out a laugh, Brooke resting her head on Yvie’s shoulder too. There was a small silence.

“At least you and Monet are sorted,” Yvie spoke again, Nina nodding in agreement. Buoyed by how well Yvie’s suggestion to Scarlet had been received, Nina had been determined not to fuck up another relationship milestone with Monet and had asked her to move in with her as well. The answer had been an emphatic yes, and the pair of them had used their terrifying teacher-levels of organisation skills to find a cute two-bed flat in a nicer, only slightly more expensive part of the city. They both knew their relationship was still new and fragile, so they’d agreed a room each was a good idea to give them their space when they each needed to work or wanted a bit of time on their own to simply do nothing. Brooke knew the two girls were joined at the hip though so they probably didn’t need that sort of contingency plan, but it was a sensible decision nonetheless.

“I can’t wait to get the keys and just vomit up a bunch of fairy lights and candles in every possible room,” she beamed, excitement radiating out of every pore. “It’s going to be so fun- we’re going to take turns cooking, and build pillow forts, and blast our songs on a Sunday morning and clean the whole place-”

“Fuck. Adulthood’s fully got you. Brooke, quick, if we run we can still save ourselves,” Yvie deadpanned, Nina giving her a whack as Brooke laughed.

“I personally can’t wait to go round and visit at every available opportunity. I’m going to move in,” Brooke smiled, and Nina gave another sad kicked-puppy pout.

“I wish. Canada is so far away,” she sighed, a little knife going through Brooke’s heart at the thought of moving back. She didn’t want to think about it, but it was just inevitable. It was happening, and it was fact. She was going back to Canada. She didn’t really know what she was doing, she hadn’t found herself a flat, and she didn’t have a job to earn money and pay the rent with even if she had, so she was flying home.

She really didn’t want to think about leaving. She didn’t want to think about leaving the city, constantly busy with tourists and families and drunk students and Very Important Working Adults. She didn’t want to think about leaving the park, with the cherry blossom trees that lined every path and fond memories of barbecues and picnics and drinking in the sun with the girls. She didn’t want to think about leaving uni- because as stressful as all hell her degree had been, she’d loved studying fashion design, loved making prototypes, loved learning about something she loved, even though her degree was fuck all use to her trying to get an actual job. She didn’t want to think about leaving the flat: the shower with its drippy head, the hob with the one gas burner that didn’t work, the carpet in her room with the incongruous red faded stain, the fucking Sports Direct mug. The girls that she loved so much her heart felt sore if she thought too much about it: Nina singing obnoxiously early as she got ready for placement, Yvie making the kitchen into a war zone trying new recipes, the ridiculous squabbles they got into about the washing up, pre-pre-drinks where they shared a bottle of pink Gordon’s and splashed mixers into their mismatched glasses and sang along to Ariana Grande at the top of their lungs.

Tears stung at her eyes again, and she swallowed the big lump in her throat to shoo them away. It was too late though, as Nina had seen her glassy eyes and reached over to hug her. Her own voice was thick with tears as she spoke.

“Oh, girls,” she let out a shaky breath, Brooke giving up the fight as she felt her own tears drop down onto her hoodie. “Change is good…but it’s shit.”

“Fuck you both, I’m not crying,” Yvie said, her breathing all shuddery and letting them both know that was a lie. The girls all sat and held each other as they wept quietly, mourning the death of their student careers and this life they’d lived for three years that they’d all too often taken for granted.

Brooke was the first to dry her tears, giving one decisive sniff and sweeping under both her eyes with determination. “Right. I’m putting a stop to this, we’re not spending our kind-of last night in the flat sitting crying like a bunch of babies. We’re going to order food, get high as St Peter’s balls and watch shitty game shows that make us yell at the TV. Okay?”

She was happy that Yvie and Nina both snorted a weepy laugh and nodded at her. “Okay.”

And the three girls did just what Brooke had suggested. There was, however, bickering about where they should order from. Yvie wanted sushi from the tiny little place tucked away in a back street that did bento boxes with prawn katsu and salmon maki which were like little rice parcels of heaven. Nina wanted Chinese from their favourite takeaway that delivered from out in the suburbs and where, for about fifteen points all in, you could get a banquet of sweet and sour chicken in sticky red sauce, crispy golden salt and chilli chips with huge red jewels of chilli and slices of garlic, chicken fried rice in a rich Cantonese gravy which bound everything together and chow mein with soft spring onion slices and huge chunks of onions all tossed in soy sauce. Brooke’s selection won in the end though as her argument was the strongest- “I might not taste any of this again, Canada is a long fucking journey, okay?!”- so they ordered burritos and chips and salsa from the incredibly-overpriced-but-worth-it burrito bar on campus. They finished the last of the weed that had been wrapped in tin foil and cling film and shoved to the back of the broom cupboard along with the bong, and they made horrifying cocktails from the dregs of their leftover spirits and mixers. The burritos arrived and they stuck Challenge TV on and shouted at the Catchphrase contestants who couldn’t get the most obvious fucking catchphrases Brooke had ever seen in her life.

The evening was perfect.

They talked about Brooke’s graduation tomorrow, Nina and Yvie both saying how proud they were of her. Brooke was glad she had the girls, since her Mum’s flight over to see her graduate had been cancelled because of freak winds back in Canada. Brooke had already cried to her over facetime about it, but Yvie had managed to find the link to the livestream that was only meant to be shown on campus, and she’d sent Brooke’s Mum the link so Brooke knew she would be watching even if she couldn’t properly be there. As soon as they’d heard the news, the girls had all agreed on the group chat to set up camp in the union and watch the livestream (as Brooke and Plastique would be graduating at the same ceremony) and then take photos with them both afterwards outside the great hall as if they were a gaggle of proud Mums. Even though it wouldn’t be what she’d planned, Brooke was still looking forward to it.

It was around midnight before Brooke took herself off to bed, and just as she got cosy underneath the duvet her phone lit up with a notification. She couldn’t help the smile that involuntarily shot to her face when she realised it was Vanessa.

V: hey what’s ya fav Kanye West album mine is GRADUATION!!!!!!! How you feelin about tomorrow boo? xxxxxx

Brooke let out a laugh, muffling it too late with her hand when it came out louder than expected. Christ, she loved the girl so much.

B: Kanye West is a misogynist pig and i won’t stand for him xxxxxx

B: Stronger is a bop though xxxxxx

V: You got that one right xxxxxx

B: And I’m good! Big jumble of feelings. Big happy/sad vibes xxxxxx

V: I know it’s bittersweet af xxxxxx

V: Me n Scar just held each other and cried once the ceremony was over xxxxxx

Vanessa and Scarlet had graduated last week, as had their other friends. Brooke and Plastique’s graduation date was the latest and so they were graduating last. She didn’t mind that, though. The longer she could stay being a student the better.

B: Lol we just had a big cry as a full flat xxxxxx

V: Don’t lmao idk what we gonna be like when our lease is up xxxxxx

Brooke scrolled up and looked at all the texts they’d exchanged from the past two months, the same signature of six kisses at the end of them all. They hadn’t really spoken about where they were relationship-wise since the night in the library. Maybe Vanessa didn’t want to. Maybe it was for the best. Brooke’s heart hurt as she realised she was going to be on the other side of the world in a matter of days, and maybe Vanessa didn’t want to see her ever again. She frowned at her own thoughts before tears had a chance to start welling in her eyes again. It had been good to truly get back to where she’d been before with Vanessa- just texting random garbage, having deep chats about the future, being ever-so-slightly flirty with each other. She thought about confronting the issue head on over text, but it wasn’t the medium through which to have that kind of conversation.

As if Vanessa could read her mind, however, another text came through.

V: When do you fly back again? 20th? xxxxxx

Brooke’s heart felt sore.

B: 12th xxxxxx

V: oh right

Brooke’s pulse froze at the lack of kisses. Her fingers ghosted over her screen, trying to figure out what to type. Vanessa sorted the problem for her.

V: fuck I wish you weren’t leaving xxxxxx

Brooke’s heart swelled up then popped. Was this the time? No. But their time was running out, she knew that much. Maybe she could see her before she left. She’d see her after her graduation anyway.

B: I wish I wasn’t either xxxxxx

B: But you’re coming tomorrow yeah? Xxxxxx

V: Wouldn’t miss it for the world baby xxxxxx

Fuck, she would miss her so much. She’d already told Vanessa how much she meant to her, just how fucking incredible she was in every way, and yet Brooke felt like doing it again.

She didn’t, because it would be too weird. But she wanted to more than anything.

V: You gonna look so beautiful and clever tomorrow I just know it xxxxxx

Brooke smiled to herself, blushing on her own at the compliment. Vanessa seemed to be firing risky texts to her left right and centre, so Brooke took a risk of her own.

B: Not as beautiful as you xxxxxx

She almost threw her phone away once she’d sent it. A reply came back almost instantly.

V: Stop with the lies xxxxxx

She was leaving in two days so she sent another risky one, caution truly pissed into the wind.

B: You’re honestly the most beautiful girl in the world xxxxxx

At that point Brooke put her phone face down on her bedside table and decided to sleep, her heart full of butterflies and her thoughts filled with the ridiculously massive crush she had on the girl she’d been idiotic enough to let go the first time.

When Brooke woke up, her phone was blowing up with messages. The one she checked first was from Vanessa in reply to the one she’d sent last night, and was simply a series of heart eye emojis. The next one she opened was a text from her Mum, paragraphs of pride and love for her daughter that made Brooke want to cry already. The others were all from the chat- Silky, Akeria, Vanessa, Scarlet, Yvie and Nina all spamming it with messages of luck and love for her and Plastique, and promising they’d be watching the screen and waiting outside for them when the ceremony was done.

Brooke got ready in a dream-like haze. She took her smart black tailored dress out of the cupboard where it had been hanging for the past month, the garment more ready for graduating than she was. She showered then dried her hair, curling it and brushing out so it made waves down her back. She put on her makeup- browns and nudes with only the tiniest bit of highlight. When she stepped into her dress and heels and looked at herself in front of the mirror, she hardly recognised herself.

She looked like an adult. A woman with her life stretching out in front of her, ready to be whatever she made of it.

Brooke phoned a taxi- it was raining just a little, even though it was already July- and pulled on a smart black coat when she saw it pull up outside, dashing carefully down the steps of the stairwell and out into the new day.

Graduation wasn’t til 11, but Brooke had arranged to meet up with Plastique beforehand anyway, just so they could be excited together. When Brooke pulled up at the taxi rank outside the square and the huge ceremony hall, she could see Plastique and her Mum there already, standing bickering amongst the growing gaggle of students and families. The sight only hurt Brooke a bit, until she remembered the girls would all be watching, and her Mum would be watching too no matter how far away. It would, after all, be about one and a half hours of waiting for Brooke to walk across the stage, take a scroll and shake a hand, and then it would all be over.

It was scary to think that that was all that was separating her and the adult world.

Trying not to get too deep and to instead just enjoy the day, Brooke excitedly paid the driver and dashed out of the taxi, Plastique spotting her running towards her and giving an excited squeal. She opened her arms out for a hug which Brooke crashed into.

“Bitch! How are you!” Plastique cried, Brooke only squeezing her tightly in response. “I’m so excited! And sad. And excited! And emotional.”

“Yeah, I can tell!” Brooke teased, Plastique laughing as she stepped out of the hug and gestured to her Mum, dressed very glamorously in a blue dress, blue heels and a pink fascinator. The occasion didn’t really call for it but Plastique’s Mum was always one to embrace the potential glamour in every situation, and so she had gone all out.

“You’ve met my Mum, right?” Plastique smiled. Brooke nodded and waved her a hello. She’d met her once at their second year showcase, the woman keeping her in stitches with her hilarious stories.

“I have! Nice to see you again, Alyssa.”

Alyssa, throwing formalities out of the window, instead pulled Brooke into a crushing hug. “And you too, my angel! Awh, Lord, ‘Tique told me all about your Mama’s flight. My heart is absolutely breakin’ for you, honey. I would’ve sent a plane over for her but nobody’s flying out of there come hell or high water.”

Brooke suppressed a laugh, finding it unbelievable that “I’ll just get her a plane” was on Alyssa’s list of options. “It’s okay Alyssa. Thank you, though. She’s going to watch the live stream, Yvie hooked her up with a link.”

“Well I’ll be your Mama just for today, girl. I am so proud of you both!” Alyssa cried, putting both her hands on Plastique’s shoulders and sighing. “Look at my intelligent daughter, out here gettin’ degrees and lookin’ so beautiful at the same time.”

Plastique smiled at her Mum lovingly, the two of them sharing one last hug before she and Brooke took themselves off to pick up their robes. It was surreal actually wearing the gown, all billowing and black, and helping each other fix their hoods, light blue with fringes of pink. They went to get their graduation photos taken, Brooke surprised that they were given a prop degree to hold as she’d always thought it was her actual degree she’d be holding. She laughed as Plastique moaned to her about not being able to see the photo until it got mailed to her, and the fact that her Mum ordered about twenty four copies so even if it was horrible she wouldn’t ever be able to escape it. Alyssa texted Plastique to tell her she’d gone into the hall to get a good seat, so her and Brooke decided to just go and sit ready anyway. They had to say goodbye to each other briefly until the end of the ceremony, as everyone had to sit in alphabetical order. As she waited for the ceremony to begin, Brooke scanned the huge crowds all seated in the hall’s three tiered levels. Her eyes fell on each empty seat and her heart broke a little more each time she saw one.

Nobody she truly loved would see her graduate in person. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely gutted. But at least she had Plastique, and of course, Alyssa.

Before she knew it, the ceremony had begun. She tried to pay attention to the Dean’s address and the chamber choir singing in Latin but she couldn’t help feeling like a 16-year-old in her school assembly, bored and just full of anticipation. Eventually, the awards began. Brooke clapped for all the other students crossing the stage, her eyes trained on the way they walked. She swallowed down the panic she felt, banished the thought of tripping over to the back of her mind. It reached Plastique’s turn, and she gave a huge cheer as her friend walked across the stage with all the grace and poise of a supermodel. She could hear Alyssa’s voice shouting from the balcony- “That’s my baby! That’s my girl!”- and, for a moment, she thought she heard the yell of a voice she knew all too well.

No. That was crazy. She must have imagined it.

E in the alphabet turned to F, then G, and eventually, H. Brooke didn’t have many others to sit through, and eventually there was only one girl separating her and her degree. The moment these three years had led up to, finally being lived out.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes.”

She heard her name and smiled as she walked carefully across the stage, shaking the Dean’s hand tightly and collecting her scroll all wrapped up in its little embossed tube. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she walked to the other side, heard the claps, heard the cheers, and heard…

“Love you, Brooke Lynn!”

Stop.

“Go Brooke! Love you, girl!”

It was her. It was actually her. Vanessa’s voice, soaring above the crowd and reaching Brooke like an arrow.

What the fuck was she doing here, at her actual graduation ceremony? As Brooke dismounted the stage she scanned the room like a meerkat, the place far too packed to distinguish Vanessa from any other of the little blobs of people sitting in each row. But she knew it was her. Vanessa had seen her graduate, had seen her collect her degree and had cheered for her.

Brooke didn’t know how she’d managed to get a ticket - they were all reserved for families- but she suddenly couldn’t wait for the ceremony to end.

She didn’t have long to wait, as time flew by and everything was over before it could all sink in. Brooke and Plastique emerged from the hall to the crowds outside and, just as they had promised, the girls all rushed forward to crush them in ridiculously tight hugs, Silky yelling at the top of her lungs how proud she was of them both and Akeria shaking a bottle of five pound cava until the cork opened easily and sprayed the fizz all over the two girls. Brooke clung to Plastique and laughed, unable to stop the smile that was plastered on her face.

“I can’t believe it! You both did it, congratulations!” Scarlet cried cheerfully, Brooke pulling her into another hug.

“Did you see me shaking when I walked across the stage? I thought I was going to trip and fall off the damn thing!” Brooke laughed, the other girls all laughing too.

“You looked like a confident, graceful, successful queen,” Nina told her, Brooke wanting to cry at her friend’s compliment. “And you are all of those things! Fuck, I can’t believe we’ve all graduated now. What the hell are we going to do?!”

“Aw, let’s not think about that,” Akeria shushed her, a proud smile on her face. “Well done, ladies. We’re all proud of you. You did that shit.”

Plastique hugged and thanked them all again before making her excuses, saying she’d be right back, and dashing off to Alyssa. As she left, Yvie took Brooke’s hand and squeezed it.

“So, have you not got some big, teen-movie speech to make, or something?” she quipped. Brooke frowned, looking at her with confusion. The rest of the girls all waited for the penny to drop excitedly, and Brooke saw Akeria’s eyes land on someone just over her shoulder. Brooke turned around and, through the crowd, saw Vanessa waiting beside the hall. Their eyes met, and Brooke could see her try and then fail to suppress the smile on her face. Brooke turned back to the girls, pointing over her shoulder at the girl waiting for her.

“How did…you were all-”

Akeria rolled her eyes, gave her a gentle shove. “Go get your fuckin’ girl, idiot.”

Brooke hardly had to be told twice. She turned around, took two steps, then three, then four, until she realised she was almost jogging over to where Vanessa stood. And suddenly she was in front of her- her hair wavy and falling over her shoulders, her outfit exactly what any graduation guest would be wearing- a smart red dress that accentuated Vanessa’s collarbones and dark eyes and the bright white of the smile she was flashing Brooke’s way.

“Hey,” Brooke began, faltering slightly. She didn’t know where to start, so she chose the obvious. “You were there.”

“Yep!” Vanessa smiled at her proudly.

“How did…how?” Brooke stuttered out, still completely at a loss. Vanessa let out a laugh, charming beyond anything Brooke had heard before.

“I messaged your Mama. Got her number off Yvie after she sent her the link for the livestream. Basically said “hey Ms Hytes…can I grab your ticket and see your daughter graduate so I can surprise her”?” Vanessa grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Brooke couldn’t believe it. Her own Mum had been in on the whole thing and hadn’t let on. She was going to kill the woman the moment she touched down in Toronto.

“Oh my God. You’re amazing,” Brooke gasped, taking a little step forward so they were closer. She felt like crying. Vanessa was here, in front of her for what was maybe the last time. She had to do something. She couldn’t lose her. Not again.

“Amazing, huh?” Vanessa asked shyly, looking to the ground. They both knew the question meant so much more than simply what it was, and Brooke, without knowing where her confidence had emerged from, took both of Vanessa’s hands in hers. Vanessa’s gaze shot up, and their eyes met.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God, please.”

Without waiting a second longer, Brooke tipped her head down and met Vanessa’s lips. It was somehow just like the first time, even though in many ways it wasn’t at all. This time, Brooke knew every single inch of Vanessa’s body, she knew her ambitions, her fears, she knew what it was like to have almost lost her and be lucky enough to have her come back again. But most of all, Brooke knew that she was in love with her, so fucking in love with her, this one of a kind girl who she was desperate to keep in her life no matter if Vanessa chose her to be hers or not. Their kiss was gentle and urgent and passionate all at once, and Brooke wanted to hold onto the moment forever. When Vanessa’s lips were gone and Brooke was all at once looking at her again, she had tears in her eyes.

“Hey, hey, ‘Ness. Come on, this isn’t…don’t be upset.”

“I am, though! I’m an idiot. These past two months we could’ve been kissing like that and going on cute dates and planning the future and having fuckin’ insane levels of sex but I left you hanging like boo boo the fuckin’ fool when I knew what my decision was the moment we had that conversation in the library, because it’s you, Brooke, fuck, it’s always been you. I love you so much,” Vanessa sniffed, frantically wiping her tears away as Brooke pulled her against her chest. Vanessa’s voice murmured against her, the most hopeful, plaintive question. “Do you still love me?”

“Fuck, Vanessa, of course I love you. You’re just…the person I was meant to meet, you’re the person I’m meant to have in my life. I love you so much.”

Brooke felt like an idiot as tears began to well up in her own eyes. She looked down at Vanessa and she looked back up at her.

“You’re leaving,” Vanessa let out a tiny sob, her forehead hitting Brooke’s chest again.

“I’ll come back,” Brooke said immediately, meaning it. “Honestly, I will. I’ll book my flights as soon as I’m home. I’ll look for flats and jobs and we can start again. We’ll make it work. I want to be with you.”

Vanessa looked up at her, her happy, grateful smile at Brooke’s words all she needed. She let out a tearful laugh. “Brooke Lynn, will you be my girlfriend?”

Brooke laughed too, taking her both her hands and squeezing them. “Hey, fuck you, I wanted to ask first!”

They both laughed then leaned in for another kiss. Brooke didn’t need to answer. Vanessa hadn’t needed to ask.

As they broke away and wrapped their arms around each other, Brooke felt the tears spring up in her eyes as she looked over at the girls. There was Akeria, making some quip about something, and Silky howling at whatever it was she’d said. Monet had joined them all and was swigging the cava out of the bottle, an arm around Nina who was looking at her with adoration. Scarlet and Yvie were telling them both a story, their hands intertwined and their bodies close. Plastique had dragged her Mum over to meet them all and her face was animated as she spoke to her, so full of happiness and excitement.

“Fuck, Vanessa, I can’t believe it’s all over,” Brooke let out a small sob. Vanessa reached up, swept her tears away with a gentle finger.

“Hey. Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

Brooke smiled down at her girlfriend. Her girlfriend. There was nobody she’d rather have spent the past three years with.

“You wanna go steal that cava back from Monet?”

Brooke giggled and nodded. Joining their hands together and giving them a little squeeze, they walked back over to be with their family.

[mellarkablegirl]

THE TIME OF MY LIFE

I promised a new chapter every Thursday and I intend to keep my promise. All your feedback and likes are so so appreciated.

CHAPTER1

The descent into Sydney International seemed to be taking forever and after a 22-hour long journey, I was in no mood for patience. My jittering and bouncing knee annoyed the distinguished looking man in the seat next to me , he’d introduced himself as Seneca at the beginning of the journey and one look at his sleazy smile told me , that the next 18 hours of my life were going to be an endeavor to ignore my seat mate. And If my disinterested looks and earphones weren’t enough to tell him off, I was sure my famous cold brushoffs would be quite enough. At least that’s what Gale always told me. Ahh, Gale, my stereotypically male best friend that I was sure I was hallway in love with. Gale was my first crush, on the first day of uni we got paired up for an icebreaker session. I hurt his ego by saying he was too skinny to play hulk and he shot right back by calling me Catnip. I expected for it to go all downhill from there, but weirdly enough we bonded instead. I developed a gigantic crush that just refuses to go away and he dated other girls (lots and lots of other girls) before he found his “one”, Madge Undersee.  That was off course until she stomped all over his heart and chose to move on pretty quickly. These days Gale spent most of his time moping around and being super clingy.

Pondering on my life so far seemed to be taking my mind of the creep sitting less than a foot away from me and the nervousness of what the next 6 months hold in store for me, so that’s exactly what I did. I quickly rehashed my inner monologue looking out over the blue ocean just off the Sydney coast. I was so glad that last window seat for empty and up for grabs! Anyway, here’s what I said(mentally):

“My name is Katniss Everdeen, I’m almost 21 years old, I’m from Panem , I study at the Polytechnic college with a major in Product Design , I’m doing a semester abroad program in Sydney Australia for the next 6 months , I’m going to miss my family , I love my family? I’m excited to get this ball rolling, I’m also a little nervous. “The sudden jerk of turbulence brings me out of my reverie, and with only minutes left to land I decide that this, this is going to be the time of my life and I am going to seize it.

The people here seemed so much friendlier and welcoming than back home, and their accents were adorable, the hospitality was pulling me in and I had to shake myself. Its barely been an hour since you’re here and you’re already getting soft, get a grip K! I wheeled my bags out and looked up the concourse calculating how I’d get to my new home, when a loud “Katniss!” echoed behind me. I whipped around, that voice I’d know anywhere. A little way up the concourse stood Cinna, or uncle Cinna as my mother would insist, he used to be my favorite relative before he up and moved to the other side of the world. He now beamed at me with arms open, it had been too long since I saw him and all of the emotions bubbled up and I ran into his arms, a little sob escaping here and there. An appearance of a familiar person suddenly quelled my fears, I wasn’t completely alone and this whole endeavor was going to be a walk in the park. That’s when I saw his wife standing behind, smiling encouragingly with a bundled-up baby in her arms. The cold out here was biting and Portia coming to the airport with baby Rue made me feel oh so special, especially in this weather.

“Come on squirt time to get you indoors and settled in “and with that we were off, on the car ride home we reacquainted ourselves with each other’s lives. Cinna now ran a full-fledged salon in the city and the small family lived in a cute suburban house just a few miles out of the CBD. Portia was a celebrity stylist and her flexible hours allowed her to spend more time with baby Rue who turned 1 this fall. Since the university residences wouldn’t open until next week, my first week in Sydney would be spent with Cinna and his family at their home. I settled in pretty quickly, Cinna and Portia were oh so welcoming but tiny little Rue had stolen my heart. I doubted I’d ever felt so connected and protective of a baby, save for when Prim was born.

Oh Prim! I almost forgot; it was almost time for our video call. Before I left, I promised my baby sister that I’d update her almost everyday on what I had been up to. But video calls were saved for weekends and special events. Looking at the clock I calculated the 5 and half hour time difference and decided it was too early to call home. So, I wandered into the living room, looking for something to entertain myself with. In the week that had passed I had spent most of my time outdoors, discovering the new city, going on lunch dates with Portia and stocking up of all the essentials I’d need once I moved into the dorms.

I was excited, I had been living alone for a few years as I attended Polytechnic but the whole vibe of this city was fascinating to me. The cultural diversity, the fast-paced life and the whole place in general made it seem like some kind of Hollywood production. Moving in day, dawned and it was cold. No one had warned me that Australia in June was as freezing as a tundra. But with the help of Cinna and a cute RA, that introduced himself as Darius, I was all set.  After a round of hugs and take care of your self’s I was finally left alone, not before I promised to keep Portia updated and drop in for dinner one of the days. As I plonked myself on the mattress, I let out a long sigh, here goes 6 months of new experiences I thought. Gathering up my stuff for the kitchen , I walked out only to run smack dab into a tall girl with a pixie cut and a sneer on her face , “Oh so you’re in number 8 “, she said “ Clove Richardson , the room across yours is mine and my friend Glim lives in number 1 , we’re both from the UK��� she said extending her hand for a greeting. I was taken aback by the abruptness of her behavior but introduced myself nonetheless, she asked for my social media and swiftly added me to the group chat with all the girls that stayed in the apartment. I had moved into an 8-bedroom apartment in the student village right across from my campus. As she walked away, she announced that since I was finally here, we’d have a house meeting this evening.

Nodding my head, I started placing my bowls and utensils into a shelf when a quiet voice behind me startled me,” Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I just wanted to get my groceries in. “I turned around and in front of me stood a waif like girl, she had a head full of curly auburn hair and the kindest pair of green eyes I’d seen ever, something about her seemed familiar but I couldn’t put my finger down on what.” I’m Annie Cresta and you must be Katniss? ���she said with an enquiring look, I merely nodded. “Wait Annie Cresta? Do you happen to know a Finnick? Finnick Odair?” I asked suddenly remembering where I knew her from, “Why yes, how do you know Finn?” she asked a perplexed look taking over her face. I started laughing at what a small world this was, explain to her how Finn and I were good friends back in school and that he had mentioned his girlfriend ‘Annie’ multiple times during their conversations. Annie smiled, a tiny hint of mischief in her eyes and asked me how I’d settled in. I rehashed my run in with Clove and that I knew Darius. She invited me to the open barbeque later this week and all I could do was nod unsurely. I may have been hell bent on getting new experiences, but I sure wasn’t an out going person to start off with. For a matter of fact, I hated parties and large gatherings, but telling sweet Annie that there was no way I’d be found dead at that barbeque was just plain mean .I holed myself up in my room until a soft knock and Annie’s voice told me everyone had gathered out in the living room .

As I looked around the room, I noticed Clove taking to a beautiful looking girl with platinum blonde locks and expensive looking clothes, that I concluded to be the Glim she had mentioned before. Annie was speaking to a girl in mechanic overalls with her hair up in a high ponytail. I smiled at Celina the exchange student from Japan, who’d introduced herself to me during student orientation. The last two girls looked like twins but with completely opposing personas. “Listen up bitches! Let’s call this meeting to order and let’s get acquainted yeah? “the one in the overalls called out. “I’m Johanna Mason. I live in room 7 and I’m a forestry major” she nodded as if to prod the rest to follow her lead. Glim turned out to be Glimmer Roberts a data analytics major, Clove was in room 2 and a Business major. The twins were in room 3 and 5 and introduced themselves as Maria and Eva Leeg. Room 4 was Annie and room 6 was Celina and room 7 seemed to be empty so far. The girl assigned to it hadn’t turned up so far. A chore roster sheet was hung up and storage shelves divided up among the residents pretty quickly and efficiently. And rule sheets were quickly passed around. Just as I was turning around Annie called to me,” Hey Kat! Sorry can I call you Kat?” I nodded and chose to let her have her way, “Finn is coming down from Melbourne this weekend, and he wanted to know if you’d like to catch up “she asked. I nodded a little overenthusiastically, I was feeling a little left out and meeting with an old friend from home seemed to be a great idea. “I’d love too, I’ll text him and let him know, Thanks Annie! “I called as I retreated to my room.

After I texted Finn to let him know he asked if it was alright to invite another friend of his that lived in the area, I understood he had little time and agreed to it. I spent a bunch of time scrolling through Instagram, looking at what everyone back home had got up to in the last week. I wasn’t big on social media but Instagram and Tumblr had always been my weakness. Getting bored of it after a while I looked up at the clock on my study table, it flashed 8:30. Still too early to go to bed, I spent a while switching from the rather useless apps on my phone before I came up on Tinder.  I had all but sworn off the app after my last disastrous date back home, but decided there was no harm in checking out what Sydney had to offer. I swiped left on multiple Chris Hemsworth lookalikes with shitty bios before I stumbled upon the account of Darius, he was cute and had seemed to flirt with me when He helped me yesterday, so I swiped right on his goofy grin and besides he had a really smart bio too. I kept swiping for a bit before another one caught my eye. His name said Peeta, and his only picture was a shot of his eyes hidden behind a thick bound book. The quirked-up eyebrow and black framed glasses added to the adorableness of this picture. His bio said “Hummus where the Peeta is” and I genuinely cracked up I swiped right just as a notification for a match came in. For a second, I thought I had matched with cute bread guy. But the notification said Darius. An unknown feeling bubbled up inside as I deleted Tinder on an impulse. I threw my phone across the bed and pulled a novel from the nearby shelf, snuggling in to read myself to sleep. But I could barely concentrate, my mind kept wandering to bread guy. I berated myself, this is what you get for opening Tinder when you’ve sworn of it Katniss! Giving up hop on getting anything done tonight, I shut the night light and burrowed under the quilts and pillows on my bed. Willing myself not to dream of fresh baked bread and comfortable arms to snuggle into.

[lady-divine-writes]

Stray

Crowley keeps bringing home strays even though Aziraphale tells him not to. They’re going to get in trouble. But this last one is the one that makes Aziraphale start thinking hard about his place on this planet - and whether it’s actual worth being a Principality or not. After all, he’s an angel, right? Shouldn’t he start doing what people - and demons - think angels are supposed to do? (1551 words)

(AO3)

It’s 2:45 on a Friday afternoon when the bell above the door in Aziraphale’s shop rings, and he freezes. He’d been happily cataloging his newest acquisition, his Tolstoy collection, and the time had flown by. But 2:45 is the hour he enjoys least, especially on a Friday – after final bell, when kids from the schools nearby come in with their mothers looking for used copies of whatever passes for classical literature these days.

The lynchpins of their latest assignments.

Why schools don’t seem to want to provide books for their students, Aziraphale can’t understand. It shouldn’t be too hard. After all, one doesn’t require a first edition of Chaucer’s works in order to complete a five-page essay. Aside from that, there are three other bookshops within a ten minute walk from his that handle the sale of mass market paperbacks.

Why does everyone feel the need to stop by his shop first?

Then they have the gall to get angry when he tells them he doesn’t have what they’re looking for and no, he can’t order it, because it’s not worth his time and trouble. What you see on the shelves is what you get, so please take your mediocre book list and your poor attitude and shop somewhere else.

Or call ahead. Save everyone the aggravation.

It probably doesn’t help that, in the grand scheme of the universe, he’s not that particularly fond of children, or their parents. He’s an angel. He loves people in the general sense, and some specific people more than the bulk. But for the most part, he’d rather just be left alone with his books.

If he’d known it was creeping up on 2:45 on a Friday afternoon, he would have closed up shop over an hour ago.

Without even knowing who they are or why they’re there, he considers this customer a harbinger of doom. Therefore he’ll see to their needs (if he can) and then close up shop immediately after.

Then he can enjoy his Tolstoy in peace.

In the silence that accompanies the ringing of that bell (since he’s holding his breath) he hears two sets of footsteps shuffling through the shop.

One he recognizes.

The other makes him roll his eyes.

He sets his shoulders, hurries out past the stacks and shelves, and without looking at his husband, he says, “No.”

“Aziraphale!”

“Crowley! This is the fifth time this month!”

“I know, I know, but this is different!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“But this time it’s the truth!”

“Crowley! You can’t keep bringing them home with you! We simply don’t have the space to keep them all!”

“Aziraphale …” Crowley tilts his head and cocks his hip “… that is the weirdest thing you have ever said to me. We’re supernatural entities!” Aziraphale hushes his demon, but Crowley doesn’t drop his voice a whit. “We can make space! Literally create space! Look! I’ll snap my fingers and make a new back room to your shop, easy peasy!”

Crowley lifts his hand, but Aziraphale puts his hand over it, fixing him with a deadly stare.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Crowley! It’s not just about the space! You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep bringing in every single sad story you find on the street!”

“Aziraphale, you don’t understand …”

“Yes, I do! I do understand! But, I’ve told you …” Aziraphale stops when he feels his temper rising, knowing that his voice must be climbing with it. He can’t forget, they’re not alone, and the other one among them might be confused and scared “… parents raise their voices at their children. And sometimes they spank. I don’t particularly approve of the practice myself, but it doesn’t mean they’re bad parents! You can’t keep kidnapping kids from their parents and nannies! Someone’s going to be by with the police soon! Now take him or her home!”

“This wasn’t a misunderstanding!” Crowley pleads, chasing down Aziraphale as he storms off to the refuge of his private workspace. “You weren’t there, angel! You didn’t see what they were doing to him! They were yelling at him! A-and hitting him!”

“Spanking him?”

“Hitting him! Look at his eye!”

Aziraphale crosses his arms over his chest, decidedly unmoving, done with this argument before they’ve truly gotten started.

“Look, Aziraphale!” Crowley gestures toward a chair in the corner – a corner that was once a reading room sort of set up until it, too, became overrun by Aziraphale’s massive book collection, very few of which ever actually leave his shop. Sitting in the chair is a tiny waif of a creature; his body, curled tight over his arms wrapped around his stomach, thinner than it probably should be; his dark, straight hair matted over his face. He sniffles but fights to stay quiet, trying to keep from making a sound. Maybe he thinks if he makes himself small and silent, he’ll be invisible. Aziraphale knows this.

He’s seen it before.

“You know, there are authorities to handle this sort of thing,” he says, but with none of his usual fire.

“Yeah, and when’s the last time authorities have ever done anything worth two shits when it really mattered?”

Aziraphale isn’t trying to be purposefully cold. He’s trying to come up with a solution. As ironic as it sounds, angels can’t save everyone – not the way Crowley thinks they should. Aziraphale’s job is to inspire humanity, teach them to love one another, care for one another. He’s not supposed to interfere too much. Though now that taking on actual assignments from the head office are less of a concern for him, and he’s gotten the opportunity to pick and choose who he helps and how, he’s often wondered what good his overall job does anyway. Look at the accomplishments of humans by way of actual humanity.

Besides, the last person who came to Earth preaching kindness and compassion, they nailed to a cross.

Aziraphale approaches the boy, walking towards him slowly so as not to frighten him. The boy doesn’t look up, but he goes visibly rigid, and Aziraphale’s heart does a double thump. As Aziraphale gets closer, the boy begins to shiver, shaking so violently by the time he reaches him, the legs of the chair knock the floor. Aziraphale doesn’t touch him. Instead, he gets on his knees and looks up at him the best he can. The boy tries to hide his face, but before he does, Aziraphale catches a glimpse of his eye – along with the other cuts and bruises marring his face, one that quite vividly resembles a cigarette burn.

“Good Lord,” he whispers, getting back to his feet, backing away and leaving him be. He straightens his vest, glancing at his husband pacing beside him, too worked up to stand still. “And where, exactly, do his parents think he is?”

“I’ve made them believe he’sss run off,” Crowley hisses in agitation. “I wanted to rack them with guilt, but …” He scoffs “… they’re not even looking for him. Sonsss of bitchesss.”

Aziraphale dusts the knees of his trousers, fusses with his tie. “Fine, then. He can stay. And we’ll … we’ll figure things out.”

The boy stops shaking. He goes a little less rigid. A moment later, he starts to cry. It’s a sound that hits at the heart of Aziraphale because it’s neither good nor bad. It’s both, and that’s when he knows he’s in trouble.

Crowley isn’t wrong. They need to do something because, often times, no one else will. This isn’t an isolated incident. Aziraphale knows that. And as much as he goes on about Crowley’s newfound habit of kidnapping children (probably prompted, in part, by Warlock’s parents moving him to the states) there’ve been a handful that Aziraphale, steadfast in his convictions, felt uneasy sending home to their parents.

But that also means Gabriel, as much as Aziraphale hates to admit it, is also not wrong.

Being a Principality in this day and age is kind of a sick joke.

Inspire humanity?

Sometimes Aziraphale wonders what’s left to inspire. And good luck appealing to the faithful. So few people have faith nowadays as it is, and those who claim to tend to twist it to fit their own agendas.

It’s made him bitter, and somewhat hardened to the plight of men.

But he’d be a hypocrite to persecute them for that. Angels have done the same for millennia, and he’s not immune. He recognizes that he himself has quite a bit to atone for, and not with regard to the temptations he did on Crowley’s behalf, but for the work he’s done in the name of God.

Especially where it comes to children.

There have definitely been times when Crowley, a demon, has had humanity’s best interests at heart better than he.

Aziraphale walks to the front door, motioning for his husband to follow. He throws the locks and switches the open sign to closed, beginning to devise a plan for what will undoubtedly become they’re newest acquisitions together. He turns to his husband and puts his arms around him, hugs him tight until Crowley hugs him back.

“My dear?”

“Yes, angel?”

“Why don’t you go ahead and make me that new room. I have a feeling … we’re going to be needing it from now on.”

[heedingcalls-archive]

@bitofthisandthat​ said : ❛❛ Did you think that I had left you for good? ❜❜

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA !!

    ❛  Well, you didn’t give me a lot to think otherwise! ❜  Her tone is clipped and brimming with annoyed anger. His stints of absence were a normal thing, yeah. But after so long, it gives a girl some worries. Not to mention he REFUSED to let her visit him during his prison lock ups. Some thing about ‘not wanting anyone else to even look’ at her. That he’d ‘find her when he was out’. But in the mean time, Kitty just had to SIT and wait

    In truth, she was finding her endless supply of patience waning. As much as she would deny the fact if asked aloud, they were seeing one another. HAD BEEN, in fact, for several months, at this point.  ❛  Keep thinkin’ that if I wait long enough, I’ll see ‘Negaduck : Public Menace DEAD’ in the headlines at some point. ❜   And like clockwork in these instances, the mouse tosses a stiletto heel towards the mallard at a harsh speed. Her tail whips about behind her angrily and she scowls, her brow furrowed intensely.  ❛  O-Or that maybe you’ve suckered some OTHER puffy waif into letting you stay around while you hide out from the cops. ❜   The matching shoe is jettisoned his way, hitting the wall near his head with a loud thunk before it clattered to the ground.

      The mouse balls her hands into tiny fists and she’s pushed herself up, already stalking across her bedroom to close distance between them. She can already hear him-- telling her to ‘Cool it’. He had made it back, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that better than the alternative? She grumbles once she’s standing in front of him. Kitty looks to him defiantly and, before thinking better, she presses her palms to his chest and she shoves. An obnoxious cackle leaves him at her display-- this only stirs Kitty to push him again. Harder so he shifted a couple inches. Ah. So it was this game again. He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, grabbing for her wrists and telling her to quite-- clearly a bit more annoyed than before. She huffs, knowing that her complexion was turning pink due to rush of emotions swelling in her chest. 

         Kitty twists herself out from his grasp before he can get a hold of her and she rushes forward, this time grabbing his bill and yanking him to her level. Lips plant over his bill in a quick but forceful kiss. Kitty does not release his bill, though, instead keeping her hand pinched tightly around it. She breathes out a sigh as she pulls away from him. Kitty’s hard eyes glare at him one more time before releasing his face. Her hands snatch at his lapel and she pushes her face into his yellow coat, forcing her nose against his neck so she could hide away there while he griped about how she was ‘Bat shit crazy’. He didn’t need to hug her back-- she just needed to really, truly affirm his presence. She HAD missed him, after all.

               ❛   ............Tête de noeud.  ❜

[the-quiet-winds]

Take Out Every Wasted Honor (part one)

the one you’ve been waiting for...

the long-awaited (like...two days) second installment of hold onto me, you’re all i have, a massive clusterfuck story by me and @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts.

if you haven’t read ‘clouds of rain and sun’... this will make zero sense so here’s a link to my master post of writing so you should read that!

this story isn’t as dark as the first one, but there are some people being assholes and saying asshole things.

[Part 1: Good to Know it’s All a Game]

it took the predicted two weeks for katherine to be able to get out of bed after the incident in the dungeon. once egert had officially cleared her, she and jane set off in arranging for katherine to legally become jane’s ward. to both of their delights, it was much easier than they thought.

only one week later, jane’s personal tailor is with katherine, building some casual dresses, as well as a formal one for the upcoming celebration.

yes, jane is throwing a party.

she claims she’s so excited about formally taking in katherine that she feels there must be a celebration, and katherine can’t bring herself to quash jane’s (her mum, she reminds herself) enthusiasm, so she lets herself be celebrated.

the tailor is a brisk, efficient woman who manages to create the foundations of katherine’s formal dress in merely a day, and the day after taking katherine’s measurements she returns to the royal chambers to have katherine try the dress on. despite the fact the tailor had an assistant, jane insists on helping lace up the dress at the back, and katherine lets jane fuss over her with a small smile. it’s nice to have someone take care of her, and even nicer that she gets to call that person her mum.

“how does that feel, love?” jane asks as she laces up the dress. “not too tight?” she was still concerned about katherine’s lungs, after all, and didn’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on them.

“feels good,” she murmurs unconvincingly.

jane gives a quiet sigh and katherine fears, as much as she hates to admit it, the worst. but she then feels jane releasing some of the tension in the laces and suddenly the dress feels perfect.

“better, kat?” jane asks.

katherine gives a timid nod. “yes, thanks.”

jane smiles, and the tailor bustles over to record some more measurements and where the laces were cinched.

katherine retreats behind a curtain to changed back into her casual wear and the tailor looks over her notes.

“a slight thing, she is,” she absentmindedly murmurs. then she looks to jane and speaks slightly louder. “shy as all get out, too, huh?”

jane gives the tailor a tight-lipped smile but doesn’t reply; she didn’t really want to discuss the reasons for katherine’s shyness with her. the tailor scribbles something else down on her notes and then turns back to jane.

“i’ve been meaning to ask, your highness, what jewellery will she be wearing? i assume something with a symbol from the seymour family? it will help with my embellishment designs, you see,” she explains.

jane suddenly smiles brightly. she’s been meaning to give katherine her gift - her ring.

she describes the ring just in time for katherine to come back over, unknowing about the surprise. she shows the tailor her locket, the one she wears nearly every day.

“come love,” jane says, tugging at her hand and pulling her into the hall. “i have something for you.”

katherine is immensely curious the entire time, but they slow to a stop inside jane’s chamber.

“i have a gift for you,” jane says, offering her closed fist. she uncurls her fingers to reveal a silver band, very simple and plain.

“it’s tradition,” jane explains, “that the eldest seymour daughter inherits the ring. it was mine, and now it is yours.” she gently slips it on katherine’s right hand ring finger, it fits perfectly. “and if you ever have a daughter, it will be hers.”

katherine stares at the ring for several moments, speechless. jane feels a tinge of worry and searches katherine’s face for signs of what she was feeling.

“i’m sorry it’s so plain, love, i know it doesn’t look much-”

“it’s perfect,” katherine says quietly. “I- thank you.” she looks up, and jane sees the tears in her eyes. “thank you,” she says again.

truth be told, this felt like the nicest thing katherine had ever been given in her life. it was a symbol that she was a seymour, a permanent reminder of jane’s love for her, of katherine’s love for her mum.

jane gives a soft yet radiant smile. she raises a hand and lays it on katherine’s cheek, wiping away the few escapes tears and stroking over her cheekbone. “you don’t need to thank me, love. you’re my daughter,” she enunciates carefully. she lowers her hand and takes katherine’s, looking at the ring that was once hers. “it’s your birthright.”

katherine’s eyes widen slightly and she pulls back. her fingers come to fiddle with the ring, twisting it in nervous circles.

“kat?” jane asks, concerned.

“how could it be my birthright?” katherine quietly asks. “i’m not...you didn’t...” she looks helplessly at jane, hoping her mum understood her meaning.

jane thinks she does understand and concern crosses her face.

“i know, love, but that doesn’t make you any less of a seymour.”

“but... birthright...” katherine repeats, chewing anxiously at her bottom lip. “i... wasn’t born a seymour.”

“the Lord works in mysterious ways, love,” jane says gently. “and I truly believe we were meant to find each other, and that i was meant to be your mother.”

the words don’t necessarily soothe katherine; she often wondered how a so-called benevolent god could have allowed those things to happen to her, and if He did have a plan for her then she doesn’t understand why those things had to be a part of it.

jane can see the calculations taking place behind katherine’s eyes. she gently catches katherine’s chin between in her index finger and her thumb, and brings it up so they’re eye to eye.

“i know you don’t believe in that, love,” says jane, “if i were you, i may have lost my faith too. but hear me now, yeah?” she takes katherine’s hand again, bringing it up so the girl can see the ring she’s wearing. “this ring is more important than blood or law to me, and i wouldn’t want to see it on anyone else. because you, katherine seymour, are my daughter, no matter how that came to be.”

the way jane speaks is just so honest, so full of unconditional love, that katherine can’t help but believe her despite her reservations. she gives a nod, the sudden lump in her throat stopping her from speaking.

jane pulls her into a gentle hug, not too tight to be careful of katherine’s lungs.

“i love you, kitty-kat,” she murmurs softly. “and you’ll always be my little seymour, okay?” she presses a kiss to katherine’s forehead.

all katherine can do is give a weak nod.

jane gives her a light smile and smooths down her hair. "that's my girl," she says absentmindedly. then she takes both of katherine's hands. "now i think you have a baby brother who could use a visit from his sister and his mum."

katherine lights up a bit at the thought of edward, and allows herself to be led to his room down the hall.

"my beautiful boy," jane coos, lifting him up. he gives at hearing his mother's voice.

"look at you," katherine whispers. "getting so big already."

“he’ll be taller than me soon,” jane laughs, kissing the top of his head. “won’t you, edward?” edward makes a cooing sound in response and jane smiles.

“here, kat, do you want to hold him?”

katherine nods and lets jane place edward in her arms. “hi eddie,” she murmurs, looking down at her baby brother. edward lets out a sound that could almost be a laugh as he tries to grab katherine’s thumb with his tiny hand.

jane watches them both, a warmth filling her chest she hadn't felt in a long time. she pulls katherine close and kisses her cheek.

"as long as i have the two of you," she says under her breath, so low that katherine can barely hear her, "i will never ask for anything more."

katherine smiles and feels the ring on her finger, then leans into jane. "love you too, mum."

---

two nights later is the celebration. the room is brightly lit, the band is hopping, and katherine never leaves jane's side. there are plenty of people katherine doesn't know, but she recognizes eleanor, sir percival, and egert, all scattered around the room.

she crosses to go see percival when she hears the whispers.

"what a party," one courtier says. "the queen really put a lot out for this."

katherine smiles at hearing that. jane did put a lot of work into this night. the night for her.

"possibly too much if you ask me," the other courtier responds. "a lot of work for her little charity project."

katherine practically freezes. she didn’t want to believe the courtier meant what she thought he did, but then he continues talking.

“i’m surprised the king let this party happen at all.”

“he wants to keep the queen happy,” the first courtier waves a hand. “that’s the only reason he let the little orphan waif stay in the first place, i’m telling you.”

“she’s not even an orphan,” the other courtier scoffs. “i hear she’s still got a father out there somewhere. i’m sure he’ll be turning up soon, trying to get a handout from the queen. that branch of the howards have always been a money-grabbing bunch.”

katherine tries to put the words out of her head, she really does. she tries to tell herself that they are just gossiping little weasels, content to make their own pathetic lives better by dragging others down.

still, she thinks, what if there is truth in what they are saying? what if her father did show up? katherine gives an internal shudder at the thought of her father turning up, maybe even trying to take her back to get more money out of her.

katherine shakes her head. jane would never allow that, not in a million years.

she goes to move on, when two female courtiers nearby steer their conversation to the young ward.

"did you know her grandmother is the dowager duchess?" one asks.

"i must have heard something about it, why?"

the first gives a sly smirk. "lots of things went on in that house." she gives a lewd shake of her hips. "heard the girl isn't even a virgin anymore."

katherine feels humiliated tears form in the corners of her eyes and she wants to head as far away as possible from the women, but some morbidly curious part of her makes her stay. she soon wishes she hadn’t.

“that certainly isn’t proper behaviour for the ward of the queen,” the other woman laughs. “i wonder if her majesty knows?”

“i doubt it,” the first says. “i don’t see why she’d want to take her on as a ward if she was aware. she certainly wouldn’t want her perfect new daughter if she knew the kind of behaviour that girl got up to.”

katherine feels a heat behind her eyes. they were tears, of course; tears of shame and humiliation.

a small part of her knows the women are wrong. jane knew all about her past, all the horrible things that mannox and dereham had done to her, but jane still took her in.

but why, katherine wants to know.

then it hits her. all the courtiers’ words mingle in her head until she sees the answer clearly: she was a charity project, a broken little girl for jane to put back together.

this realization makes her want to throw up, and she darts from the ballroom to outside and empties her stomach by the tree line.

once she’s finished katherine takes a deep breath, trying to clear her mind with the fresh air, but the curdling in her stomach and the ache in her heart won’t leave her alone. she spends the next few minutes trying desperately to pull herself together but she can’t, and when she hears footsteps behind her she already knows she looks as bad as she feels.

“kat?” jane’s concerned voice sounds from somewhere behind her, because of course jane noticed she wasn’t in the ballroom. “are you alright?”

katherine finally turns around, tears in her eyes and face incredibly pale. “i don’t feel very well,” she mumbles, and it’s not technically a lie. jane’s gaze darts from katherine’s face to where she’d emptied her stomach on the grass several minutes ago and her features soften slightly, although still worried.

“oh, love, you poor thing. do you want to go back to your room, sweetheart?”

katherine hears the sympathy in her voice and it hurts, because all she can think is how it's fake. it's all part of jane's little game with her.

she wipes her face on her sleeve and stands up. "i'm okay," she says shakily. her legs nearly give out beneath her, but jane swoops in to hold her upright.

"i can tell you aren't, love," jane says. she takes a closer look at katherine, and can see something was troubling her daughter. "what's going on, kat?"

katherine doesn't answer, so jane uses that voice, the one that means no more nightmares and only love. "kitty-kat, please talk to me."

“i don’t want to,” is all katherine can manage. her voice is small and sounds so childish and pathetic, but she can’t even bring herself to care. it hurts even more because of the voice, the one that makes her feel safe and protected, and katherine just knows that it’s all a lie.

a strange surge of anger rushes through her. how dare jane take advantage of her loneliness and desperation for affection like that. jane looks at her, eyes wide and caring but with confusion running through them at katherine’s response, and katherine can’t take it any more. she rips the ring off her finger and drops it in the grass, staring jane down and trying to stop her own heart from breaking.

jane takes a sharp and confused breath as the ring lands in the grass. she drops to her knees and immediately searches for it. she stands back up with it in her fingers, reaching out for katherine's hand. but katherine is backing away, tears in her eyes and an angry, upset hunch to her shoulders.

"kitty-kat, where is this coming from?" she asks in that same gentle tone.

"stop!" katherine yells, holding her hands by her face. anger and insecurity course through her blood. "stop pretending that you care! stop pretending that this means anything to you!"

jane looks at her, sad and confused. "kat...you mean everything to me." she reaches out to katherine's cheek, but the girl backs away more.

“you’re lying,” katherine chokes out, voice thick with anger and distress. “how could I possibly mean everything to you? admit it, i’m just some little charity project!”

the words stun jane and she blinks, confusion running through her.

“wh- kat, love, no!” her voice is still that soft gentle cadence and katherine just wants her to stop. she covers her ears with her hands desperately as if it will prevent jane’s voice from reaching her.

“charity project?” jane repeats, absolutely shocked. she sees katherine frantically covering her ears and steps forward, trying to remove her hands.

the girl pulls away roughly.

jane gives a tiny sigh. “i don’t know where these thoughts are coming from, kat, but they couldn’t be more wrong,” she says, raising her voice just enough so the girl could hear her. “i love you, katherine, and i don’t care if i have to tell you ten times a day, because i will, if that makes you happy.” she holds up the ring. “i think this belongs to you,” she offers softly.

there’s a part of katherine that wanted to believe her, that craves love and safety and security as family so much, and that loved jane and hoped beyond all hope that jane loved her back. but there’s a horrible dark voice in the back of her head that tells her, no, she’s been in this position before too many times, thinking somebody genuinely cared about her when in reality they didn’t.

she feels incredibly light-headed and she suddenly notices her breathing had been rapidly speeding up, to the point now where she was nearly hyperventilating. her lungs ache from the lack of air and she stumbles back.

jane had seen the whole thing unfold - katherine’s breathing was getting faster, her knees wobbled as she stumbled back and ultimately gave out onto the grass.

jane immediately moves in, pulling katherine into her hold, but the girl wrenches away.

“kitty-kat,” jane says firmly yet gently, “let me help you.”

katherine shakes her head, unable to speak. through her tears, she sees the ring. the ring so much like the one dereham has presented her with, wound with empty words of love and false promises of security.

as shaken as she is, she grabs the ring and hurls it as hard as she can. it disappears into the dark woods, then all is still.

[lightsburnbrite]

The Devil is in the Details: Part 4

When Karina walked into her office at the museum, Nena could only laugh at her. “You look like a woman who has just come back from her honeymoon.”  

“It wasn’t our honeymoon.” Karina smiled and corrected her as she sat down at her desk to check her email. “That is apparently coming in December. Leon needs to go to the Sates for about a week so he suggested we go to our place in Berchtesgaden for a couple of days.”

“And you look that happy returning from a little mid-week trip?” Nena pretended to scoff.

Karina responded with a shrug. “It’s a beautiful setting, lots of trees, and my housekeeper is a lovely Ukranian woman who is an amazing cook. So it was two days of good food, good alcohol, and great sex with my husband whom I love dearly.”

“Hang on to it, Karina.” Nena laughed. “Two divorces later and I’m definitely jealous of you.”

With a laugh, Karina just shook her head because she didn’t really know how else to respond. She had already planned to spend the day going through a bunch of pieces that had just come in from a private donor and was anticipating being able to just put headphones on and ignore everyone else.

Karina grabbed the DSLR and made sure her MacBook was in her bag before she started making her way to the archives.

“Hey, Karina!”

She knew instantly who it was and silently exhaled before turning around. “Hi Daniel.”

“Thanks for waiting.” He was clearly out of breath. “Nena said you could show me how you do the archiving. I’m kinda thinking I’d like to be a curator…like you.”

Karina made a mental note to talk to Nena about this. “Are you sure that’s something you want to do today? It’s pretty boring.”

“Well, yeah, I mean,” Daniel laughed nervously and Karina thought he looked flustered too. “Why not, right?”

“Ok.” Karina pressed her lips together. “Follow me then, I suppose.”

As they started to walk, Daniel wanted to make small talk but he eventually turned the conversation towards Karina. “So you’re pretty edgy, then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Karina did her best to keep a neutral tone but she was finding Daniel to be increasingly annoying.

“Like, take your shoes for example.” Daniel shrugged. “It’s not an insult, I think you’re pretty cool.”

Karina looked down at her snakeskin Louboutin pumps with tiny gold spike along the top line and the top of the heel and felt uncomfortable with the idea that Daniel was paying a lot of attention to her appearence. “Do you have a pair of earbuds with you? I usually listen to some music to make it seem less tedious.”

“Oh, that’s cool. We can listen to whatever you want!” By this point Karina got the impression that Daniel would agree to whatever she said.

“On second thought,” She cleared her throat, “If you need to learn about the process, it might be distracting.”

Daniel frowned. “That’s too bad, I’d like to see what kinda of music you’re into.”

“I listen to a little bit of everything.” Karina was deliberately not looking at him. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Karina stopped once they made it to the archives.

“Ok….” Karina laid everything she had brought out on the desk in the front. “We’ll take a picture of the piece and then catalog it, I’ll need to make a note of if we need more information on the piece or not. Once that’s all finished, I either write up a quick description or do more research.”

Daniel glanced around and scratched the bak of his head. “That does seem…tedious.”

“Right, exactly.” At this point, she was finished with the niceties. “So why did you want to learn about archiving?”

Daniel shrugged. “Honestly? I was looking for a way to spend more time with you.”

“Listen, you seem like you’re a nice guy-” Karina wasn’t even able to finish before Daniel cut her off.

“But?” His shoulders immediately slumped and Karina had to fight back her initial guilt.

With a slight nod, she acknowledge that she was going to turn him down. “But I don’t appreciate you using your internship as a social foothold. It takes time out of my day to help you and if you’re really not interested in…archiving in this case, then it’s wasting my time.”

“I really do appreciate all that you’ve helped me with.” When he began shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, Karina thought he looked more like an awkward teenager than a 21 year old adult. “Maybe I could buy you dinner some time, as an apology and a way to say thank you?”

Karina smiled in response. “That’s very nice of you, but it’s not necessary.”

“Alright.” He shifted his gaze downward. “I’m sorry I wasted your time then.”

Hardly waiting until he was out of sight, Karina finally pulled out her headphones and got to work.    

If Daniel showed up at the museum over the next few days, Karina didn’t see him there. She figured she had either scared him off or he was avoiding her, either way, she was fine with it.

Between her gallery and the archival work, Karina had plenty to keep her busy while Leon was away but that didn’t stop her from missing him at night. With the way the time difference worked out, they were able to speak first thing in the morning for Karina and last thing at the end of the day for Leon.  While she knew she wouldn’t want his longer travels to be a regular occurrence, Karina found that there was truth to the expression of absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Taking a few minutes to compose herself after they had hung up, Karina stared up at the ceiling and sighed before closing her eyes again. This was going to be a morning that she stopped at the cafe on the corner before going to work.

After placing her order at the counter, Karina sat down and pulled out a small notebook she used to help organize her thoughts. Mid sentence, she felt eyes on her and looked up only to see the waif like brunette standing in front of her, arms folded across her chest.

“What do you want?” Karina pretended to be pleasant the first time they had met but now she couldn’t be bothered.

Mathea shrugged. “I was in the area. Just seeing how you’re getting on, I suppose.”

“I’ve been fine, thanks for asking.” Karina glanced at her nails as if the entire premise of the conversation was boring her.

“I meant the two of you. I happened to run into Leon and his friends in Ibiza and I couldn’t help but notice that he was there without you.” Mathea smiled but Karina couldn’t quite figure out what her motive was.  

“Wonderful, I hope you had fun. Now, I’d apologize for being rude but I really don’t care anymore and I can assure you that anything between Leon and I is none of your business.” Opening her notebook, Karina began to flip through the pages, completely dismissing Mathea.

“Obviously, I’d understand if something had come between you.” She smirked now. “It’s not like you two have a lot in common. I’d hate to think it was only for your money.”

Karina looked up now. “You’re probably right. Maybe I’ll die under mysterious circumstances, then he can have my money and you two can finally be together. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed chatting with you, I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.”

With that, she turned her attention back to her work until she saw Mathea leave from the corner of her eye. Karina bit down on her lip, willing her body to shut down any sort of emotional response, until she tasted blood. It was easy for her to be cold and sharp in the moment, but she knew this conversation would linger with her for days, if not more. Then there was the question of is she should confront Leon over her accusations. Looking down at the chocolate chip scone that sat in front of her, Karina lost her appetite and asked for her coffee to be put in a travel cup.

“Hey, you feeling alright?” Nena was always the first to notice things, Karina had tried to avoid her for that specific reason, but was unsuccessful. “You look a little pale. I mean, I know you normally have the skin tone of a china doll but even for you.”

Karina smiled and gave her head a slight shake. “I’m fine, I’m just getting a cold or something.”

While her body always seemed to have a psychosomatic connection, everything seemed to be amplified in the last few years. Any time Karina was stressed about something, her stomach went into knots and her whole body ached. Now apparently she lost most of the color to her complexion as well.

Over the next two days, Karina had an internal dialog going as to if she should ask Leon about Mathea’s accusations, if he would be forthcoming, if she should ask her brother if he knew anything.

Karina sat on the sofa with her macbook after work one evening but found she couldn’t focus on anything. The longer she looked at a spreadsheet, the blurrier it became. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed as she closed her eyes and rested her head against the cushion. She barely noticed when the door opened.

“Mausi?” Leon called out, unable to see Karina from where she was sitting. “I’m home.”

Sitting up taller, she smiled at him. “Hey. How was it?”

Leon joined Karina on the sofa, draping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her temple. “Hot. How have you been?”

“Fine.” Karina forced herself to smile. While she didn’t pull away, she didn’t return his embrace either.

He nodded and rested his head against her shoulder. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you, it’s ok but you don’t need to pretend that you’re fine.”

Biting down on her lip, she opened the previous day’s scab.

Leon searched her with his eyes, hoping that would prompt some sort of response from her. “You’re bleeding.”

He went to the kitchen and pulled a clean dish towel from the drawer, briefly running it under the faucet. Sitting back down in front of her, Leon gently took Karina’s chin and dabbed the towel over it. He examined her lip and once satisfied that it wasn’t actively dripping, returned the towel to the kitchen. Karina didn’t miss the look of disappointment on his face.

“Was Mathea with you in Ibiza?” She had deliberately waited until his back was towards her, rinsing the dish towel out in the sink.

Leon turned around, eyebrows raised. “What makes you ask that?”

She wanted to scream at him to just answer the fucking question but instead she willed herself to remain calm. “She’s here. Or, at least she was. I went to get coffee and she came up to me saying that she was there with you.”

“She was there, yes.” Leon cleared his throat. “But she wasn’t with me. I’m kinda predictable about going there so she probably just guessed that I’d be there. I never spoke to her, Marius saw her first and made her go away. I never saw her after that.”

By now, Leon had moved back to the sofa and Karina could tell that he was holding himself back. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to lean against him and Leon instantly wrapped his arms around her. “What else did she say?”

“You were happier with her.” A wave of exhaustion fell over Karina and she couldn’t muster the energy to even open her eyes. “And that we have nothing in common so you’re probably only interested in-”

“Stop.” Leon shook his head. “You know that none of it is true.”

Karina frowned. “But why didn’t you say that she was there?”

“It just…” Leon looked away before looking back. “It didn’t seem like it was an issue, it could have been coincidence for all I knew and I didn’t want you to worry about it. Obviously that was the wrong thing to do.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it that-”

“No, I know.” Karina could hear the frustration in his voice and was now regretting even bringing the situation up. “Listen, I would really like to just sit here with you for a little bit and not have you over analyze things. Nothing good comes of that for you.”

Karina nodded and closed her eyes again as she leaned back into him.

They sat in silence for a while before Leon squeezed her shoulder. “You know, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

[kateofthecanals]

A Woman’s Worth, According to “Game of Thrones”

The other day I thought to myself, is there a single female character on GoT who has not at some point been encouraged, both on a Watsonian and Doylist level, to resort to violence and/or sex in order to solve all her problems?

I’m honestly at a loss to think of a single female character, past or present, where this hasn’t been the case. Obviously the example frequently referenced around here is Sansa. Here is a young woman who, as written by George R.R. Martin, possesses a keen intellect but also a fair amount of naivete... because, like, both those aspects can exist at the same time. She is not a warrior like her sister, and she is not a seductress like Cersei, and yet she’s managed to survive through FIVE books without having to resort either to violence or sexual manipulation and has relied instead on her intellect and the traditionally feminine pursuits she has been brought up to cultivate. This is something D&D apparently cannot conceive of (even though it’s literally been written out for them in black and white). In their minds, a woman cannot be “strong” unless she’s got blood on her hands and/or a sexually available body. They literally cannot wrap their tiny brains around the concept of nuanced women. Even those who do possess martial prowess, like Brienne, Arya, and Asha, are reduced to shallow stereotypes and have had all their unique qualities stripped away in favor of this almost cartoonish thirst for blood.

D&D have made it quite clear over 7 seasons (yes, the first 4 included) that a woman in this universe is only “worthy” if she is willing to kill people and/or have sex. They cannot possibly serve any other purpose and still be of use to D&D’s narrative. Just look...

Sansa: Revenge Murder. She had been advised in the past, by both Cersei and Littlefinger, to use sex to get want she wants, but then she ended up getting raped. So maybe that “counts” in D&D’s eyes? After all, she did get her all-important “first kill” out of it... That, according to both D&D and Sophie, was what her “entire arc was leading to.”

Arya: Murder. She’s basically a homicidal maniac at this point, and it’s framed not only as a good thing, but “badass”. We’re supposed to be cheering as this lost, damaged child repeatedly stabs people with a cold smirk on her face.

Brienne: Murder. Absolutely no qualms about it either. Shanking dudes is just another day at the office for her! The epic moral dilemma that defines book-Brienne (”no chance, and no choice”) simply does not exist here.

Dany: Murder/Sex/Nudity. The Holy Trifecta! No wonder D&D love her so much! She’ll get naked and jump into bed AND murder entire cities all before Noon! We have seen Dany “struggle” at times with the dilemma of using violence in order to find peace, but in the end, the solution is always the same: YES OF COURSE YOU SHOULD USE VIOLENCE! Never once has she been like, “you know what, the loss is too much of a burden on my conscience, Imma sit this one out” without that being framed as a “wrong” decision. Because we need CGI dragons and massive casualties in order for her to be seen as “strong” and “competent”, dammit! We also need to see dem tittays!!!!

Cersei: Murder & Sex. Another D&D darling, obviously. In the books, Cersei is clearly off her rocker, makes bad decisions constantly, and literally no one likes her. (She’s basically show-Littlefinger.) And yet, on the show, her poor decisions and wisdom are treated as “correct”. When she tells Sansa that love is a sham or that she needs to use her vajayjay to get what she wants in this world, these things are framed as legitimately good advice. Cersei is basically this show’s moral compass. In D&D’s eyes, Cersei is the only character who is playing the game correctly. She is the only one who gets it right. “Kill or be killed, fuck or get fucked.” There is literally nothing else in between these two extremes.

Melisandre: Murder & Sex. Okay, so Mel hasn’t murdered anyone directly, but she’s had her hand in quite a few homicides. She’s utterly willing to see people die to get what she wants, and she’ll happily throw her titties at them along the way. Nevermind that book-Mel honestly believes that everything she’s doing is for the Greater Good, and nevermind that book-Mel doesn’t need to be nude every 5 seconds to get her point across... show-Mel is simply an evil enchantress, period. Oh, but then something horrible happened in Season 6 -- we found out that (a) she’s actually 3,000 years old ewwwwww!! and (b) she finally realized her “powers” aren’t all that reliable and came to regret all the murderin’ she’d done. She basically had her “worth” stripped from her twofold. Also, Carice Van Houten turned 40. And so guess who we BARELY saw in Season 7? Yeah, D&D literally made her LEAVE THE CONTINENT since she’s no longer of use to them.

Yara: Murder & Sex/Queer-Baiting. Yeah, another fun thing about D&D&Co is that they assume all female warriors are lesbians. They outright said as much about Brienne, and with Yara they just went ahead and showed it, and called it “representation” lmao. Even though Asha Greyjoy probably has the most healthy hetero sex life in ASOIAF. Sexuality in Yara’s case is even worse because she is also used in D&D’s massively disturbing depictions/endorsements of toxic masculinity. Her advice to her own brother, who was sexually mutilated, to either “get over it or kill yourself” (all while she’s groping a sex slave IN FRONT OF HIM) was actually framed as GOOD ADVICE. This was already apparent in the narrative but then D&D themselves confirmed it in the ITE!!!

Missandei: Nudity. Here’s a female character who is actually allowed to have a brain, but even then she is constantly undermined by the far superior intellect of Saint Tyrion. But it doesn’t really matter either way, because Missandei’s true purpose on the show is to look hot.

Olenna: Murder. Lady Tyrell is far too old to be sexy, so naturally she has to be out for blood at all times, and advising other people to murder as well (”Be a dragon!!!”).

Ellaria/Sand Snakes: Murder & Nudity/Sex. We can just go ahead and lump all these together. In addition to being the poster children for D&D’s insistence that all females, including sisters, must be catty to each other at all times, they are, of course, overly-sexualized and obsessed with Revenge™. It wasn’t enough that Ellaria was canonically bisexual, but D&D felt that her appeals for peace in the books were literally unworthy of proper adaptation. “We reconceived the role to make it worthy of the actor’s talents.” For them, Ellaria doesn’t deserve to even exist unless she’s vowing bloody vengeance on literally everyone for Oberyn’s death... including Oberyn’s own family(???). And the Sand Snakes? Well, one of y’all better get nekkid to keep it interesting! Who cares if the term “bad pussy” is apocryphal to this universe???

Margaery: Sex. From the moment Marg first popped up on screen, her titties popped out. She’s been a sexual character from the beginning and has repeatedly used sex as a tool for manipulation. She’s the protege that Cersei’s been looking for! Nevermind that, in the books, Marg, like Sansa, actually uses her wits to scheme and manipulate instead of her vagina. Luckily for D&D, they had room to age up Marg just enough that we could see her naked IMMEDIATELY, and once she traded in her low-cut dresses for Silent Sister gowns, guess what happened to her?

Myrcella: Neither, #RIP. Though, to be “fair”, they did re-cast the role with an older actress so that she could wear skimpier dresses and get groped by Trystane...

Gilly: ????? I mean, she’s just been reduced to Sam’s nagging girlfriend at this point. She did offer him sex (5 minutes after almost being raped) but she hasn’t threatened to murder anyone YET... But she’s also dumb as a post, so I guess D&D keep her around to make Sam look smarter?

Lyanna Mormont: Faux-Feminism! Lyanna is too young to be sexy or physically intimidating, so obviously the only other options for her are to re-affirm Sansa's idiocy (”Lyanna Mormont wouldn’t have been dumb enough to write that letter, so age is no excuse!”) and to further the faux-feminism agenda where crucial, life-preserving activities like knitting are ridiculed simply because they are “girl things”.

Meera: Murder. Honestly Meera was unusual in that she didn’t seem to possess the thirst for blood that the rest of the weapons-capable women on GoT did, nor any overt sexuality. But it’s okay, cuz D&D found other ways to undermine her! Like having her almost raped (a rite of passage for all true GoT Ladies I guess), and her constantly squabbling with Osha was a given according to the unwritten rule that if there’s more than one woman in the same scene at any time, they HAVE to be catty to each other, NO EXCEPTIONS!!! Anyway, without anyone left to kill or any way to be sexually available to Bran, she’s useless and no longer on the show. I’m sure we’ll find out next season that she was raped and murdered on her way back to the Neck (which Bran will have no reaction to).

The Waif: Murder. Just pure, unadulterated, completely incomprehensible murder. Did we ever really find out WHY she was so pathologically out to get Arya, other than the above-mentioned Rule of Cattiness?? Like, gods forbid she be an ACTUAL mentor to Arya...

Shireen: Neither, #RIP. Shireen was #tooprecioustoopure for this world, and that was entirely the point, wasn’t it? Nobody that sweet, kind, smart [shudder], and innocent [double-shudder] has any place in Weissteroff. She was only there for the maximum #feels when she was ruthlessly (and inexplicably) murdered and then immediately forgotten about once she served her purpose.

Selyse: Murder. She kind of suffered the same treatment as Lysa, in that her sexuality was used against her and she basically turned to murder to compensate for what she lacked.

Walda: Neither, #RIP. This one still infuriates me. In the books, Walda, although described to be rather overweight, still manages to enjoy a very healthy sex life with a husband not known for expressing more than a pointed stare. In fact, she’s so into it that even Roose Fucking Bolton finds it (and her) charming!! NONE of this made it into the show. No, instead, we have Ramsay making tasteless fat jokes (”OMG HOW DO YOU EVEN FIND HER VAGINA?!??!”) because lulz fat women enjoying sex don’t be ridiculous!! Ultimately she’s just there to be laughed at and then killed off for plot. Imagine if D&D were actually as progressive as they think they are and used this as an opportunity to depict and endorse body positivity on their Emmy Award-winning prestige drama watched by millions of people around the world..... NAAAAHHHH MORE FAT JOKES PLEASE!!!

Those are just some of the more recent crop of female characters, but this applies to past ones as well...

Catelyn: Murder. Poor Cat couldn’t even have a book-canon sex scene because no woman over the age of 40 is allowed to be naked on-screen (see: Melisandre) unless it’s for comedic effect or to deliberately make us cringe. So, that’s when D&D decided they had to amp up the Thirst for Vengeance quotient on her! Even though Cat was a POV character, and Robb’s entire war was seen through her eyes, they never allowed her any sort of meaningful introspection, either about the war or her family. Like Sansa, it was more important to highlight all the “mean” things she did to the Heroes of the story (”Maybe if I had loved Jon, this war wouldn’t have happened!!”) and retool the timeline so that she looks as dumb as possible (letting Jaime go before she ever found out about Bran & Rickon). The Red Wedding couldn’t have come sooner, amirite??

Lysa: Murder & Sex. Here’s an example of an “older” woman’s sex life being played for laughs. She was never meant to be taken seriously as a sexual being, so let’s make her wedding night with Littlefinger as outrageously ridiculous as possible. Yes, I know, it was presented this way in the books as well, but the difference is, we had way more backstory on Lysa and so it came off as more sad and pathetic than just outright comical. She was also the one who poisoned Jon Arryn, thereby kicking off the WoT5K, but that (extremely crucial mystery that hung in the air for 5 books and 4 seasons) has since been rendered meaningless because “Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie”...

Shae: Sex/Nudity. And here’s a classic example of D&D seemingly making a GOOD decision to “improve” a character but having it ultimately blow up in their faces. Having Shae be a confidante/protector of sorts for Sansa ALMOST worked. It certainly gave her something to do than have sex with Tyrion constantly. But in the end, that just made Shae look all the more like a shitperson when she threw Sansa under the bus at Tyrion’s trial. It was an actual betrayal, as opposed to a calculated maneuver by someone who ultimately never gave a shit about Sansa OR Tyrion. It ultimately made Shae look even WORSE than her book-counterpart, imo. Book-Shae was just doing her job; show-Shae actively fucked over 2 people she seemed to genuinely care about. It was a more nuanced character, but at the end of the day, they did it to serve Tyrion. It probably never even occurred to them that someone couldn’t genuinely love him (and those who don’t pay for it dearly; see: Sansa), and it was out of the question to make Saint Tyrion look like a FOOL for deluding himself into thinking a prostitute loved him. So she had to be the real deal, and her murder by Tyrion had to be 100% justified.

Osha: Murder & Sex/Nudity. It wasn’t enough for Osha to become a surrogate mother to Bran and Rickon; mothers are SO BORING after all. And it wasn’t enough that she was a wildling woman capable of killing a man a hundred different ways. Best throw in some gratuitous nude scenes just because. As far as D&D are concerned, the only way she can kill a man is by fucking him first. It works the first time, but when she tries the same ruse with Ramsay, she is killed for it. I mean, OF COURSE. The Great Ramsay Sue would never fall for such a thing, pffft!

Ygritte: Murder & Sex. She was already a little firecracker in the books, but leave it to D&D to give her the Cersei treatment by basically blackmailing Jon into sleeping with her. Some could argue dub-con for the books, but the show was outright non-con. But because she’s a hot lady and he’s a dude, it’s not looked at or framed that way at all. Instead we’re made to think “JACKPOT, JON! woooot!”

Talisa: Sex. When the “not like the other girls” trope goes too far, you get Talisa. Yes, she was presented as a strong, smart, capable woman, but in the context that they put her in, it didn’t make sense. Because D&D don’t know how to write a female character like this within the context of ASOIAF. And the re-working of this arc in Robb’s plot went from “doing it for honor” to “doing it for dat bootay!!” So, of course, it wasn’t enough that she was “not like the other girls”; it was CRUCIAL that we got to see her naked too, lest she be taken TOO seriously...!

Ros: Sex/Nudity. Like, literally, that was her one and only function. There’s that well-known rumor that she was killed off in the show because the actress didn’t wanna do any more nude scenes, but she has denied this was the case, but who knows, really? Knowing D&D as we do, would we REALLY be surprised if the rumor was true? I mean, why else would they get rid of her? If she was still game to throw her rack around and perform pornologues, why would they willingly give that up??

Karsi: Murder. This gal has the distinction of proving D&D’s claim that no one would have cared about Jeyne Poole utterly wrong, null, and void. Karsi had a cumulative screen time of about 10 minutes total, and I remember watching the live-tweets come in during “Hardhome” and people, including myself, being really excited by her character almost immediately. But surely there had to be a catch -- ah yes, The Worst Crime In Westeros: being a mother. That was her ultimate undoing. Of course, we learned soon after the episode that the character was originally written to be a man, but it was changed to a woman because OBVIOUSLY only a woman -- only a mother -- would be THAT opposed to killing children, even undead ones.

Maggy The Frog: Sex. Well, kinda... Look, fact is, Maggy the Frog was supposed to be some old, gross witch, and D&D turned her into a Burning Man groupie.

That about covers it, I think, feel free to add more if I’ve forgotten anyone. But basically you can see the pattern here loud and clear. It amazes me that so-called feminists who watch the show religiously haven’t picked up on this... or, if they have, don’t seem to have a problem with it??

[thedemonconstantine]

blizzardmuses​:

John’s cheerful demeanor was contagious, she found herself cracking a tiny smile but a smile none the less from his silly singing. What a lovable little idiot, she knew it was all just to cheer her up, knowing it didn’t mean his ploy wasn’t working.

“Nah, you are gonna lend a hand to yourself and work on getting better. No offence kiddo but you have a tough road ahead of you, try to save yourself off the gutter first before trying to save the rest of us from drowning” she suggested eating her plate of pasta. 

“Walking through Gotham, you are either really reckless or really brave. Maybe a bit of both. Yeah, I think you are a bit of both” she accused pointing her fork at him. 

“I appreciate the offer but there ain’t much you can do. Can’t save them all, doesn’t make it any easier to accept knowing it” Dinah admitted and reached to squeeze John’s hand. 

“You are sweet to worry though. I will be okay, not my first rodeo, not my last either.” 

Dinah stood to grab the cookies and cream ice cream from the freezer and popped it in the microwave for thirty seconds. 

“Suits you though, interacting with customers. Natural charmer” Dinah praised and grabbed two spoons to share the ice cream. 

They both needed sugary comfort tonight didn’t they. 

“How’s the cravings?”

“Tough road, aye?” John echoed with a wry sort of smile as he helped to clear their plates, pouring himself a glass of water from the sink tap. He turned just in time to see Dinah pop ice cream into the microwave.

“Yeh kin do tha’?! Woh ‘appens next?!” John and technology, the most he’d get was the bloody tv. He took the spoon from her and stared at the ice cream when she pried the lid open. The sweet treat melted just right.

“I’ll git by,” He said after a big spoonful of the stuff and John moaned at the taste going all over his mouth. He decided to sit on the kitchen counter, legs swinging a little as he dug right into the pint for another mouthful.

He wouldn’t tell Dinah about the nightmares that wrecked his mind at night, or the waifs that lingered about her apartment when the clock struck 3, nor would he show the scuffs and reddened markings on his wrists where he had to tie himself to the bedpost to keep himself from thrashing around too much. For now they were covered with black sports wristbands.

Perhaps it was a good thing she was hardly home when it grew dark, or she might have picked up on his muffled screaming.

“Yeh know woh? I fink dis is much be’er!” Keep the ice cream coming, yes!

“Mrs Selsby fell ‘n she gots a bad leg, I was finkin’ I kin deliver ‘er flowers next time. Is quite a bit o’ a walk from ‘er flat,” John began as he went through Dinah’s regulars in his head. There was also Mr Peterson who seemed to buy tulips for his wife every time he cheated, which was often enough for John to remember since the man always looked guilty and reluctant whenever he stepped into Sherwood II. Ms Lopez who came every Wednesday for her dining table vase and Mrs Lee who needed jasmine blossoms three times a week for her prayers.

She said she liked to cover her amulets in a bowl of the petals or something.

“Do yeh still box?” He noticed the gloves but did not see her take it recently.

“Kin yeh teach me?”

[emospritelet]

Pixie Dust - Chapter 14

In which there’s more awkwardness, Belle and Gold are dorks, and there’s an unexpected visitor.

AO3 link

Belle lay in the dark for a long time, her hands behind her head, listening for the smallest sound that might mean he had gotten home safely.  Eventually she fell asleep, but she woke often, and at some time after four she heard his key in the door and the sound of his feet on the stairs.  She felt herself relax a little; he was home, at least.  The shower started to run, a faint hissing sound of water, and she turned onto her side and tried to settle back into sleep.  Images came to her unbidden, formed from her own memories of his mouth and hands on her, but with some faceless woman in her place, and she wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her eyes shut as though that would make the visions fade.

She slept poorly, waking up with a start at seven-ten, and dragged herself out of bed to make much-needed coffee.  There was silence from Gold’s room, but she assumed that he had class that day, so if he didn’t get up in half an hour or so she would have to wake him.  How the man coped on three hours sleep a night was beyond her; she already felt as though she’d been hit by a train and she had the option of going back to bed when he left the house.

He must have set himself an alarm, she thought, because he padded downstairs already dressed as the clock ticked towards seven forty-five.  He looked tired, his eyes shadowed and his cheeks hollow, but he returned Belle’s smile of greeting.

“Hey,” she said, pushing the coffee pot towards him as he sat down opposite her.  “I made coffee.  Thought you could use it.”

“Thank you.”

He poured some, strong and black, and sat with his hands wrapped around the mug, staring into it.  Belle watched his hands, long fingers opening out and closing in turn around the hot cup.  Needles of pain scratched at her as she thought about what he had been doing with those hands, and she firmly told her brain to shut up.  It was none of her business, and he was tired.  She put her head to the side.

“Would you like breakfast?  I could cook some eggs…”

“Coffee will do.”  He sent her a brief smile.  “Perhaps two cups.”

She returned the tiny smile, and there was silence for a moment as they sipped their drinks.

“I heard you come in,” she said.  “Around four-thirty, was it?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, and she shook her head.

“It’s okay, I was drifting in and out.  New bed, old house, weird noises...”  Terrible thoughts.

There was more silence.  The tick of the kitchen clock seemed very loud.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said then, and Gold looked up at her, his eyes softening.

“It was a client I knew,” he said gently.  “Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh.”  She ducked her head, feeling awkward.  “You have - you have - regulars?”

He gave her a long look over the top of his glasses, steam from his coffee fogging the lenses a little.

“Yes, a few,” he said finally.  “You were one, I suppose.”

Her breath caught in her throat, a painful lump, and his mouth flattened.  He rubbed his eyes, thumb and finger rolling back and forth over the lids.

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive,” he sighed.  “It’s been a long night.”

She nodded wordlessly, concentrating on her coffee.  Gold drained his cup, setting it down on the table.

“I should get to class,” he said.  “I’ll try to get out early tonight.  Sometimes Principal Spencer calls an impromptu staff meeting, but I’m hoping the fact that it’s forecast for snow will put him off.”

“If you’re going to be late, just let me know,” she said.  “Class, or - well, or any other reason.”

“I won’t have another night’s work this week,” he said.  “I requested one only.  That’s it, I promise.”

Belle finally raised her eyes.  He was watching her with an anxious look on his face, and she shook her head with a sigh.

“It’s none of my business,” she said.  “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“There’s really no need,” he assured her.  “The other night - well, it won’t happen again.”

You can’t know that.

Aloud she said: “I’m sure you’re right.  And besides, your work is nothing to do with me.  I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

His smile was genuine, and he pushed to his feet, going to the hallway to pull on his coat.  She heard the jingle of keys, and a final farewell, and then the door closed behind him, leaving her sitting in silence.

After drinking a second cup of coffee, and telling herself over and over again that it was none of her business, Belle dressed in her workout gear, a light jacket over the top and a hat pulled down over her ears.  There had been no snow, but the air felt heavy, as though a storm was coming, and the temperature was below freezing.  She donned gloves and made her way out into an overcast morning, frost crunching beneath her sneakers.  There were winding paths leading out into the woods, frequented by dog walkers, and she picked her way along pine needle-strewn trails, the air cold and sharp in her lungs and the sound of birdsong filtering down through the pine trees.  An hour later she found her way back into town, and jogged along the street to Granny’s, feeling as though her head had cleared a little.

“Hey.”  Mulan greeted her with a wide smile as she passed with two plates of pancakes on a tray.  “You want breakfast?”

“Just tea, thanks,” said Belle.  “I’ll make myself something when I get home.”

“I’ll get it,” called another woman, a mass of unruly red curls bouncing around her shoulders.  Belle looked after her curiously, hearing an accent similar to Gold’s on her tongue.  She slid onto a chair, using her fingers and thumbs to massage tight thigh muscles with a kneading motion.

“How are you settling in?” asked Mulan, pausing with a tray of stacked dirty plates, and Belle smiled up at her.

“Okay,” she said truthfully.  “I managed to get some of my things, so I don’t look like a waif.  I feel a little better.”

“Good.”  She shifted the tray to her other arm.  “You think you’ll be here awhile?”

“I - I don’t know…”  Belle pulled a face.  “There’s only so long you can depend on someone’s generosity, right?  I don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”  Mulan put her head to the side.  “Although, if you’re gonna be here for a week or two, do you want to come out for a drink some time?  A few of us go to the bar downtown.  It’s called the Rabbit Hole.”

“It’s a dump,” interjected the redhead, who had returned with Belle’s tea.  “But the only place other than Granny’s where you can get a drink.  Just don’t believe the bartender if he says he loves you.  Which he will.  Tries his luck with everyone, that one.  Even with us, the poor deluded bugger.”

She grinned widely, and Mulan cast an amused look at her.

“This is my girlfriend, Merida,” she said.  “Merida, this is Belle.”

“Pleased to meet you, Belle,” Merida said warmly.  “What brings you to Storybrooke?  You have family here?”

“Just a friend,” said Belle.  “He’s letting me stay with him until I get on my feet.  Although I did find out that my best friend’s grandmother actually owns this place.”

“Oh, you know Ruby?”  Mulan’s eyes widened, and she shared a delighted look with Merida.  “We haven’t seen her in what seems like forever!  How is she?”

“She’s fine.”  Belle took a sip of her tea.  “She may be coming up this weekend, so if she does, we’ll come and visit.”

“Granny misses her,” added Merida.  “She doesn’t say so, but she does.”

“I’ll tell her to get her butt over here, then,” said Belle, with a grin.  “She always mentioned her Granny being in Maine, but I never realised it was here until she told me.  Small world.”

“Merida!  Mulan!  We have customers!”

A sharp, somewhat irritated voice sounded from the kitchen area, and the two girls rolled their eyes and shot Belle apologetic looks before trotting off to collect plates and take orders.  She finished drinking her tea, feeling a little more of her anxiety drift away as she relaxed.  Storybrooke was already starting to feel like home.

Once she had finished her tea, and paid, Belle made her way home for a hot shower and some breakfast.  She then curled in a chair with one of the books that she had slid from the shelves in the lounge.  At least that night’s dinner was already to put in the oven, and so she spent a lazy day in the house, reading and relaxing, before hearing Gold’s key in the door at four-thirty.

Her first thought was that he looked tired, his eyes heavy and his tread weary.  But he smiled at her and asked how she had spent her day, and she sat him down and poured him a glass of wine and chattered about the diner, and the people she had met, and the book she was reading.  He seemed content to let her take control, and so she turned on the oven to heat the lasagne, and began preparing a salad, taking sips from the glass of wine she had poured for herself.

“You look tired,” she said quietly, glancing over her shoulder, and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It hasn’t been the easiest week, all things considered,” he admitted.

“Well, at least tell me you’re going to relax tomorrow,” she said, slicing tomatoes.

“Perhaps.”  He was silent for a moment.  “Perhaps on Sunday.”

She glanced at him again.  “Why?  What happens tomorrow?”

There was more silence, and she swept the cut pieces of tomato onto the blade of the knife and dumped them in the bowl of salad leaves.

“Belle, do you remember when I asked you how you wanted to proceed?” he asked.  “And you said that you wanted a divorce?”

She sighed, putting the knife down.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.  “Yeah, I really need to get moving on that.”

She turned to face him, leaning back against the worktop, and he was watching her with a carefully neutral look on his face.

“You can wait until you’re ready,” he said, and she shrugged.

“I’m ready, I’m just - I guess I don’t really know where to start.  It’s going to get nasty, I just know it, and right now it all seems so…”  She lifted her hands, palms outward, and wiggled them as she pulled a face.  “I guess I need a lawyer.  Of course I have no money except what he gives me, so I don’t even know how I’m going to pay for it.”

“I can get you a lawyer,” he said, and took another drink.  “Would you be prepared to come to Boston with me tomorrow?”

Belle swallowed hard.

“Boston?” she asked, a little faintly, and his mouth flattened.

“I’m sorry, it’s just - well, decent divorce lawyers are a little thin on the ground here in Storybrooke,” he said, and she nodded.

“I guess,” she said slowly.  “But - tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“I can still get you an appointment,” he said.  “If - if you want.”

She gazed at him for a moment.  His eyes were filled with something she couldn’t quite make out.  Concern?  Perhaps worry that he was upsetting her.  She sent him as much of a smile as she could manage.

“As long as there are no detours when we’re in town,” she said.  “I don’t want to risk running into Gaston.”

“Of course.”  He returned the smile.  “I’ll make the call.”

Belle stared up at the tall, sleek building of steel and glass that housed the offices of Cole, Feinberg & Levinson, chewing her lip.  The touch of Gold’s hand on the small of her back lent her some strength.  It was the first real contact they had had for days, and she wished things were less awkward between them.  Of course, in the circumstances it was unlikely things would improve.

“This - this is the firm that Gaston was considering giving some business to,” she said thickly, and Gold nodded.

“It hasn’t come to that.  As I understand it he decided to stick with his current firm.  You won’t meet him by accident in the building.  Especially not today.”

“Good.”

She took a deep breath, squared her jaw, and marched into the building, the automatic doors whooshing open as she approached.  Gold stuck close by her, and the receptionist looked up with a wide smile as she approached the desk.  To her credit, her gaze flicked only briefly to Belle’s bruises before meeting her eyes.

“I have an appointment,” said Belle, her voice sounding oddly hollow in her ears.  “Two o’clock.”

“Let me see…”  The receptionist studied the screen in front of her.  “Mrs Legume?”  At Belle’s nod she picked up the telephone and dialled a number.

“Mrs Legume is here to see you,” she said, and put the phone down, turning back to Belle with a smile.  “If you could just wait a moment, please.”

Belle nodded stiffly, feeling anxious, and stepped away from the desk, wanting to pace.  The touch of Gold’s hand on her shoulder was soothing, grounding her a little.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said softly.  “It may not have seemed so at the party, but she really is very good at her work.  You’ll be in safe hands.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said, in clipped tones, and they both turned as the elevator pinged.

“Darling!”

Carrie Feinberg swept into the reception, arms wide, wearing an elegant black dress with a pencil skirt and fitted jacket.  She kissed Gold on both cheeks, leaving lipstick prints on him, and turned to Belle, kissing her too, as though they were friends, and she wasn’t Gold’s client.  Belle could feel her insides wanting to shrivel up at the thought of it.  The woman smelt of cigarettes and Chanel, and she took a step back, looking Belle up and down with a glint of interest in her eyes.  Her study of the bruises took a little longer than the receptionist’s had.

“Come on up,” she announced.  “There’s almost no one here today, so we won’t be disturbed.”

“I should - I should leave you to it,” said Gold, gesturing at the glass doors behind them, and Belle shook her head.

“No, it’s okay.  I’d like you to come up.”

“Yes, don’t be so antisocial,” chided Carrie.  “It must be at least three weeks since I last saw you, you bad boy.  Indulge a girl!  I’ve half a mind to take you out and drink you under the table.”

Belle closed her eyes momentarily.

“You’d be on your feet far longer than I,” he said dryly, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes.  She flapped a hand at his jeans and boots.

“I’ve never seen you looking so casual,” she remarked.  “Like a slightly rugged and secretly perverted physics teacher.  I like it.  Come on up, both of you.”

Gold hesitated, looking between her and Carrie, but then nodded, following them to the elevator.  The walls were slightly textured, the colour of graphite.  Flat round buttons grouped in pairs extended in long rows in a black glass panel.  They were edged in chrome, and Carrie pressed for floor 32 with the tip of a short, manicured fingernail, coated in deep red lacquer.

Belle sighed inwardly.  She had agreed that Carrie was the best candidate for the job, given that she had an excellent reputation and had said that she could wait for payment, but God, this was awkward!  She tried not to think about what the two of them had gotten up to, although the incident with the closet kept sneaking into her mind and causing mischief, and she was glad that Gold was the soul of discretion when it came to his clients.  That was a conversation she was most certainly not interested in having.  

“Thank you for making the arrangements to see Belle today,” said Gold quietly, and Carrie gave him a look of surprise.

“Oh, the building is always open for those who want to work every godforsaken hour there is,” she said airily.  “I’ll take Monday off instead.”

Her office was large and bright, the furniture black leather and chrome and pale, polished wood.  Four squat leather armchairs were set around a low table, and Carrie turned on the balls of her feet, pressing her hands together.

“Drink?” she asked.  “I could call for tea, but perhaps you’d prefer something a little stronger.”

“Tea’s fine,” said Belle, and Carrie waved her to one of the squashy armchairs and went over to her desk to order the tea.  She picked up a notepad and pen, striding over to sit opposite and crossing her long legs.

“I don’t know how I’m going to pay you,” said Belle immediately.  “I don’t really have any money.  I left my purse at the house - I mean my old house - with all my credit cards…”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” said Carrie with a sniff.  “If I can’t get some alimony out of your husband while this is all going through I’ll hand in my notice tomorrow.”

She flashed Belle a grin, and Belle felt herself relax just a little.

“Now,” she said briskly, sitting opposite.  “I only know what I saw from my own observations at that delightful party at your house.  Why don’t you tell me about your husband, and why you want to divorce him?”

Belle closed her eyes.  The party seemed so long ago.

“We’ve been married four years,” she said.  “I was too young, but he wasn’t right for me anyway.  We’re very different people.  I - I want to be a teacher, and he wouldn’t let me.  Said it was beneath me.”

Carrie sniffed, but nodded at her to continue.

“He had been having an affair,” she said, and swallowed. “Eight months or so.  I found out about it when his girlfriend called the house to tell me.  He swore he’d stop, but he didn’t.  And…”  She cut off, and Carrie looked at her expectantly.  “And I - I hired an escort.”

“To get back at him?”

“Partly,” admitted Belle.  “But also because I - well, I was lonely.”

Gold’s fingers twitched, as though he was going to reach out to her, but he didn’t, and she looked at her clasped hands.

“Just the one time?” asked Carrie.

“Twice,” said Belle quietly.  “Gaston knows.  I told him.”

“Which is where you come in, am I right, darling?”

Gold nodded, and Carrie made a note.

“Will that have to come out?” he asked.  “I have a whole other life away from my evening job.  The two don’t mix.”

“No reason you should have to be mentioned,” she said.  “He doesn’t know your real name, and it’s not as though this was an actual affair, you were a sex worker.  And he’s the one with more to lose, believe me.  I’m sure we can make a deal.”

Belle dropped her eyes again.  The facts being laid out so baldly like that - it sounded so sordid.  She wished she had never married Gaston in the first place.  She wished that she could turn back the clock to her seventeenth year and gone to a different school altogether.

“So your own indiscretion came out,” said Carrie vaguely.  “Let me guess, he was fine with infidelity when it was him doing the cheating, not so fine with you doing it.”

“How did you guess?” said Belle dryly.

She glanced across at Gold.  He was staring straight ahead, as though his mind was elsewhere.  She couldn’t blame him.

“Well, I can see that he hit you,” said Carrie then, making her start.  “Was that a regular thing?”

“No.”  Belle closed her eyes, trying to ignore the memory of that night.  “No, it was - it only happened the once.  I climbed out of the bathroom window and ran away.  That’s how I met Alistair.  On the road out of Boston.”

“Fortunate,” she said, scribbling.  “Did you take any pictures of your injuries?”

“I have them,” said Gold, patting his pocket where his phone sat.

“Good.  Gives me something to wave in the bastard’s face if he tries to play the injured party.”

“How long will it - take?” asked Belle, and Carrie looked up, folding her hands on top of the pad of paper.

“Hard to say,” she said.  “Will he agree to the divorce?”

“No,” said Belle decidedly.  “Definitely not.  Even if he agreed to let me go, he’d never agree to a settlement.”

“Hmm.  Pity.  Would have been the quickest and cheapest option.”  She pursed her lips.  “I suggest filing for divorce anyway.  Irretrievable breakdown of the marriage.  If he contests it, it’ll have to go to trial, but I doubt he’d want the scandal, considering.  Of course you could argue it was his fault due to the adultery and the assault, but that’s likely to take longer and be more expensive.”

“I’ll rely on your advice,” said Belle.

There was a knock at the door, and a young man with a sober expression carried in a tray of teacups.

“On the table, there’s a good chap,” said Carrie, and he set down the tray, murmuring something before leaving again.  She rolled her eyes at his back before turning back to Belle.

“You don’t have to decide now,” she said.  “Sleep on it for a day or two and call me next week.  Just let me take some more details, and if you decide to proceed I can start putting the documentation together.”

Belle nodded, casting a glance at Gold.  He sent her a brief smile of encouragement, and she took a deep breath, ready to take the first steps on her road to freedom.

She felt better for having done something about her situation, even though reliving the worst parts of her marriage with Carrie had been highly uncomfortable, and she was silent for half an hour or so as they drove north, towards Maine.  She had felt bad for Gold, too, and the awkwardness he must have felt sitting with two former clients.  Or was Carrie a current client?  She had certainly seemed very taken with him.  Perhaps she was a regular.  He would never say, of course, and she was determined not to pry into his business.  Gold kept shooting glances at her, his brow crinkling a little as he drove.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as they left Boston behind, and she sighed.

"I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this," she said.  "I truly am.  I know - I know that getting involved in a high profile divorce is probably the last thing you could ever want.  I just hope that Carrie's right, and it won't get to court."

"It'll be okay," he said, and she ran her hands over her face.

"Alistair, you don't have to be so calm all the bloody time!" she sighed.  "I've completely screwed over your life, and I feel terrible about it!  You've been nothing but wonderful to me ever since we met and it's like I've caused you nothing but trouble!"

"Well, you're a good cook, so it balances it out," he said, winking at her, and she let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

"Please don't worry, Belle," he assured her.  "Things will work out, I'm certain of it.  You don't deserve to be unhappy.  Carrie has all the information to get started on the case now, if that's how you want to proceed.  And you'll have my full support, I promise."

She sighed again, settling back in her seat a little.  It was good that at least one of them was feeling positive about the whole thing.

In the end it took her almost a week to make the call.  Not that she wanted to stay married to Gaston, far from it, but she dreaded the inevitable confrontation.  He had no idea where she was - a quick call to Mrs Potts had revealed that he had been incandescent with rage when he discovered that some of her things were gone - and she suspected that he would hire someone to track her down.  Because of this, she asked Ruby to give it a week or two before she came to visit, and to keep an eye on anyone who might be following her.

“Don’t worry about us,” said Ruby cheerfully.  “If he’s set someone to tail me, me and Archie can drag them all over New England, it’ll be fun!  Archie always says we should do more stuff together.”

“I doubt this is what he meant.”

“Come on!  It’s a great bonding exercise!” she said.  “I can make Gaston’s PI rack up a ton of expenses staking out random houses I visit.  I might even start leaving coded messages around in brown envelopes.”

“Just be careful,” sighed Belle.  “I don’t want you getting in any trouble.  Either with Gaston’s goons or your boss.”

“Okay, I’ll stick to the Boston area during the week,” she grumbled.  “But this weekend we are totally going to the coast to find an abandoned house to hang around.”

“And you don’t mind staying away from Storybrooke a little longer?” asked Belle anxiously.  “I know I have no right to ask, it’s just he’s gonna be served with the papers soon, and I don’t want him having any idea where I am when that happens.”

“Sweetie, your safety is my first priority,” Ruby assured her.  “Besides, I called Granny and explained the situation.  If you ever need to, you have another place to go, okay?  She’ll take you in no questions asked, and kick Gaston’s ass if he comes knocking.”

Belle couldn’t help smiling.

“You’re a good friend, Rubes.”

“I’m the best, and don’t you forget it, never mind how many mysterious long-haired so-called teachers you have stashed around the place.”

“He is a teacher,” said Belle patiently, and Ruby snorted.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

November became December, and Belle found herself, if not exactly relaxed, certainly more comfortable than she had felt.  Gaston had been served with the papers, and Carrie telephoned to say that his lawyers had been in touch and he would not be consenting to the divorce.  

“I won’t repeat what he said to my paralegal,” she added.  “Suffice it to say that I felt a strong urge to march round to his house and wash his mouth out with soap.”

“I can imagine,” sighed Belle, rubbing her temple.  “What now?”

“Now we negotiate,” said Carrie briskly.  “Obviously we want to avoid court if possible, so I just need to remind him that so does he.  It may take a meeting with him and his lawyers.  How would you feel about that?”

“I…”  Belle chewed her lip.  “I could stand it, I guess.  If it gets this over with more quickly.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear from them,” she said.  “I suspect it’ll be after Christmas now before we can set anything up.  He’s getting excellent advice, so I only hope he listens to them.”

“Listening to reason was never Gaston’s strong point,” said Belle dryly.  The sound of the front door made her look up, and she smiled at Gold as he entered the kitchen and mouthed ‘Carrie’.  He nodded and mimed drinking, and she grinned at him.

“Well, there is some good news, at least,” said Carrie, as Gold crossed to the wine rack and lifted out a bottle.  “I’ve arranged for some money to be transferred to your account.  He didn’t want to agree, but his lawyers have made him see sense.  There should be five thousand dollars going across in the next day or two.”

“Oh.”  Belle felt her breath whoosh out, a sense of relief sweeping over her.  “Thank you!”

“That’s just the first payment,” Carrie assured her.  “And don’t worry about my fees, those are also covered.  He’s spitting tacks about the whole thing, I have no doubt, but that’s what happens when you don’t allow your wife to earn her own living.”

She sounded extremely self-satisfied, and Belle grinned.  Progress at last.

“I’ll be in touch,” Carrie added.  “Keep your chin up!  You can get through this!”

“Thank you,” said Belle sincerely.  “We’ll talk soon.”

She rang off, and turned to Gold with a smile.  He was uncorking the wine, the corner of his mouth pulling up at her expression.

“You’ve had some good news, then?”

“Kind of,” she allowed.  “I’ve got some money.  I can pay you back what I owe you.”

“There’s no rush,” he said, taking two glasses from the cupboard.

“I know, but I’d like to pay you while I know I can,” she said.  “I don’t know how long this whole thing is going to take.”

He carried the glasses to the table, sitting down opposite.  Wine poured in a rich, crimson stream, and Belle took a glass from him.  She watched him as he poured for himself, his hair hanging forward a little, the light glinting off his glasses and the first hint of stubble on his jaw, and felt her heart clench.  Staying with him, seeing him every day, had been the most delicious form of torture.  It had taken them a couple of weeks of awkwardness and stepping around one another, which was compounded whenever he had to take a job, but she felt that they were in a better place now.  They were comfortable living together, two lost souls each trying to make their way.  She cooked dinner most nights, and he made breakfast most mornings, and at the weekend they would walk in the woods, mostly in silence, enjoying the birdsong and the wind in the trees and the sharp scent of the pines.  If she hadn’t been in love with him, life would have been perfect.

Gold glanced up at her, and she licked her lips, suddenly nervous.

“You know, if I get a regular payment leading up to the divorce, I could look for a place to live,” she ventured.

He stared at her for a moment, his face expressionless, then sat back, his fingertips tapping restlessly on the table.

“Is that what you want?” he asked quietly.  “Your own place?”

“I - I thought it might be what you want,” she said, with a bark of a laugh.  “I don’t think you were looking for a long term roommate when you took me in, were you?”

Gold smiled briefly.  “No,” he admitted.  “But I find that I enjoy your company.  It’s nice, having someone to come home to.”

Belle reached for her glass, and almost impulsively he grasped her hand, squeezing it gently.  The shock of his touch after so long made her gasp, and her heart began to thump in her chest.  Gold fixed her with his gaze, his eyes warm as honey in the light.

“Please,” he said.  “Please, Belle, don’t feel that you have to leave if you don’t want to.  I’d like you to stay.”

“I - I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” she said, and he shook his head.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” he said.  “You’ll always have a home here.  Who else would stay up until three a.m. just to make sure I’m alright?”  He shot her a stern look.  “And don’t pretend you haven’t been.  I’m not as clueless as you seem to think.”

She smiled, shrugging a little.

“I worry, that’s all.”

“I know.”  He released her hand, sitting back, and she missed his touch.  “I wish you didn’t.  I don’t want to cause you any sleepless nights.”

Belle tried not to think about the fact that her sleepless nights worrying about his safe return were probably on a par with those spent remembering how it felt to have him touch her.

“I’m serious,” he added.  “If you really want to leave, then of course I won’t stop you.  But if you want to stay, I’d be delighted.”

“I can pay rent,” she assured him.  “With the money I’m getting from Gaston, I mean.  It - it would help, right?”

He stared at her for a moment, and his mouth twitched at the corners a little.

“Right,” he said.  “We can - we can discuss it tomorrow, if you like.”

She smiled at him then, and nodded.  What was a few more weeks of torture, after all?  She would have to move out eventually, when her divorce was finalised.  She would find a place in Boston, and go back to college and train as a teacher, and he would be here in Storybrooke, working every hour God sent to support his son.

“Will you visit Neal over Christmas?” she asked.  “It must seem so long since you last saw him.”

“He’s going to his mother this Christmas,” said Gold, with a grimace.  “It’s her turn.  I just hope she lets him come to stay for a week at least, before college starts again.”

“Oh.”  Belle chewed her lip.  “Will he - will he mind me being here?”

Gold looked surprised.  “Of course not.  Why would you think that?”

"I don't know..."  She gave an awkward shrug.  "Maybe he wants it to be just the two of you.  I don't want to be in the way."

"You won't be," he said gently.  "Besides, I've had lodgers before.  It never bothered him."

Lodgers.  Yes, of course.  I'm a lodger, nothing more.  Why would it be awkward?

“So - what do you want to do for Christmas, then?" she asked, trying to shake off her melancholy with a smile.  "Do you celebrate?”

“Yes, of course.”  He grinned at her.  “Well, I suppose we’ll have to get a tree, won’t we?  Neal usually helps me decorate, but as he won’t be here, I’m afraid the task will fall to you.”

“Great!”  She beamed at him, and then frowned at his amused smile, his fingers tapping on the table.  “What?”

“I’m just wondering how someone as accident prone as your good self will cope with putting up decorations,” he said mildly.  “Perhaps I should invest in some bubble wrap.”

“I won’t drop them!” she protested, and he smirked, picking up his glass.

“No, dear, I meant to wrap around you.”

Belle stuck out her tongue, and his smile widened, his eyes gleaming.  God, life was so bloody unfair!

They did get a tree, and Belle managed not to break anything putting the decorations on it, and she filled the house with the scents of baking while Gold was out at work, making gingerbread cookies and rich, dark fruitcake and even - remembering a recipe Mrs Potts had liked - a chocolate Yule log.  It was probably way more food than they would ever eat between them, but Ruby and Archie were coming up for the New Year to stay with Granny, and she planned to have them around for dinner at least once.

Gold had driven to the next town over, which was somewhat larger, in order to pick up some food and drink for the festive season, and Belle was decorating the gingerbread cookies with coloured frosting, which she was finding somewhat frustrating.  Mrs Potts had always been better at the fine detail of cake-decorating, and Belle sighed as the “snowman” she was teasing out of the piping bag looked more like a ravening ghoul.  A knock at the door made her look up, and she wiped her hands on her apron, frowning a little.  Unexpected visitors made her anxious.

The knock came again, and so she sidled out into the hallway, eyeing the door.  There was a dark figure behind the rippled glass, and she chewed her lip for a moment, bouncing nervously on her toes.  It was too small to be Gaston, however, and so she took a deep breath and marched to the door, opening it up.

A boy in his late teens stood there, his brown hair speckled with snowflakes, his jeans stained dark around his ankles where the snow had soaked into them.  He had a rucksack on the porch beside him, stuffed almost to bursting, and his eyes were wide as he looked at her.  Deep brown eyes, that looked so familiar.

“Um - hey,” he said uncertainly.  “I was - I was looking for my dad.  Mr Gold?”

“Oh!” breathed Belle.  “Oh, you must be Neal!  Come on in!”

[tumblunni]

MAN I tried messing around starting newgame plus on Digimon Cyber Sleuth, even though I’ve played more than enough already so I’m not really gonna play again so soon after finishing. And... WHAT THE HELL?? Seriously this is like a one game microcosm of how you don’t realise how much you’re being mistreated until you see how the other side lives. Specifically on the subject of weird minority stereotypes... The difference between the designs/animations/general presentation of the two gender options is REALLY BIZARRE?? I had no clue! Playing as the girl you just kinda think ‘yeah thats weird maybe’ but you dont realise the dude doesnt have the same problems. Like... she VERY MUCH suffers from the ‘miss male character’ trope. She’s the weird sort of ‘lol sexy genderswap deviantart fanfiction’ version of a female option. I thought I was just reading too much into it with how the girl is posed like a supporting character on the boxart and literally never appeared in any of the promotional material until the game came out... Its just so... ODD! Everything EVERYTHING about her is defined to be this overthetop stereotypical idea of ‘we have to let them know she’s the girl version’. She’s far more sexualized, she always does these ‘girly’ or ‘hot’ poses for LITERALLY EVERYTHING! Like, the dude’s animation is just running but she has to run with her arms wide out to the sides, skipping like a five year old and swaying her hips. And her standing pose also has the hands out, her toes inturned, her chest thrust forwards and this general sort of ‘tee hee hee’ thing?? It really REALLY started to bug me how her chest is ALWAYS thrust forwards, I started to get super anxious about ‘holy shit am I ever doing that when I walk and i dont know it? is this really how female bodies are supposed to work??’. Its like her resting pose is this thing and its extremely painful for her to fold her joints back into a normal mode. And she’s always always posing when the dude isnt posing AT ALL, even her selection screen image is her doing the ‘one leg bounces back while you kiss someone’ type pose, contorted into a wild accordion while he’s just looking at the camera. I jsut... didnt even realise what was bothering me so much about playing as this character, til i saw the total absence of it on the dude... SERIOUSLY! He doesnt have some overstereotypical super huge macho animation set, his design isnt made to yell ‘I’M MALE’, he isnt sexualized, he isnt the ‘one body type everyone in this gender has to have’. He’s a scrawny androgenous waif that could have worked equally well if you slapped the label female on that design, somehow to make him female they decided they had to scoop out holes in his waist and hips and shove them on his chest. While also adding a bazillion extra animations that make her walk around everywhere like that one damn gif of terrible ragdoll physics as some guy walks down a road. I did not understand that whole assassins creed controversy about ‘but women need more animations, it’d be too much work to add them’. NOW I UNDERSTAND. Why on EARTH do they think they need these animations?? Women dont have to do everything differently to men to prove theyre women, in real life literally nobody worries about accentuating stereotypical gender roles while doing COMPLETELY NORMAL THINGS. Women dont put huge effort into looking cute or sexy while they’re just frickin walking down the street or standing alone in the privacy of their own home. Its like these people know so little about women outside of hollywood femme fatale movies that they legit think that sort of walk cycle is biologically ingrained into one gender???? The fact nobody ever acts like macho bodybuilder walk cycles should be given to normal tiny teenagers in every situation makes it pretty clear the difference here... And seriously, what is even this universal THING that ‘male are default, you need to mark a character as different to show she’s female’? Which usually means making her more feminine than the real female actor playing her, like that even makes a damn lick of sense :P I mean seriously if we’re gonna talk actual biology, men are the ‘different’. A species cannot exist with only men, the only one sex species are all female. Or lack a sex, or contain both sets of genitals. Also there is at least one bird species that has two male genders as well as female. And male seahorses get pregnant, and male clownfish can physically transition into females as part of their natural life cycle. And all sorts of far more diverse things we humans can barely understand! And like... you can say ‘women are the different and men are the blank, because women have boobs and men don’t’. But you can also say that women are the default because men are the same thing with penises added. And seriously, boobs are just nipples that actually serve their intended purpose. Women have this extra function compared to men because MALE BREASTS ARE VESTIGAL! The organ still exists, it just sits there doing nothing and never changes at puberty. (Though even that is more fluid that you’d expect, there are ways to induce lactation even if you’re a cis man. i dont really know why anyone would want to do that, it wouldnt exactly work as well, but whatever.) Aaaaand OF COURSE this entire thing is a stupid argument anyway because it only talks about biology, which is not the same thing as gender. Not to mention that biological sex isn’t all cut and dry either, the human species has A LOT of different intersex conditions. You can even have people who don’t have significant enough outward symptoms to be recognised as intersex at birth, who go their whole life thinking they’re a cis male only to suddenly find out they had an undiagnosed hormone condition and are technically a trans man. There is most definately no magical biological guideline for how men and women act. Especially frickin stupid nonsense like overspecific cultural guidelines on what’s cute for a woman to do while running, geez. You really can;t just ‘tell’ that someone is ‘really a woman’ or ‘really a man’ cos of how they act, and thats why this stuff pisses me off even when the story isnt saying anything about trans people. I’m so used to seeing this overexaggerated japanese concept of feminine/masculine mannerisms being used on trans stereotypes, it bugs me even seeing it being done to cis women... gahh this has gone wildly offtopic and I’m just venting Everything Bad About Stereotypes rather than the specific thing about this specific game I need to logoff and go cheer myself up. OH BUT yeah this game also literally has a friggin ‘we can tell this man is really a woman because mannerisms’ scene :P which also dissappointed the hell out of me cos it seemed like a trans character and instead it was the cliche I Had Some Reason To Pretend To Be A Man thing... Also apparantly instead of acting like that male persona, the male persona was magical brainwashing virtual reality stuff. What a wasted opportunity! You could have told us a lot of stuff about her personality from comparing how she acted while under this other fake personality, and what it implies she hides from other people. Like ‘hey, maybe she actually can be confident as long as she’s wearing a mask!’ Nah, everything badass or tough or sassy she did was just mind control. And she’s not trans. And blehh being outed by ‘acting like a girl’... Its so weird cos the game actually does have one trans npc in a sidequest, and has trans themes with a few major digimon. In the sense that they were male in previous seasons and have designs considered ‘masculine’ but take female forms when disguising themselves as humans. (and the player-controlled versions of these digivolutions even have different masculine voices matching earlier seasons!) Gahhhh at least I can sit here hugging my ambiguously genderqueer alphamon headcanons and nobody can tell me those arent canon cos the question was never answered either way! I hate the cliche answer that ‘yes all alphamons are male cos they ‘look male’, this one was just a man disguised as a woman’, but still even if that was the intent, it means the character is trans coded! EITHER OPTION IS TRANS TIME protect me, alphamon protect me from super gender essentialist game how do you even EXIST in this game?? seriously even your human disguise was super fanservicey weird female stereotypes mannnnnn i guess I had a few problems with this game aside from the one stupid rape scene :P aaaaand the problem of the game clearly being written assuming nobody would play the female option, so characters still constantly call you ‘he’ and such the only good consolation being that the game accidentally becomes Hella Gay, though I would have preferred canon lesbians instead of this weirdness WHY CANT FEI AND YUUKO BE CANON IT GOT SO CLOSE TO BEING CANON THEN FEI DISSAPPEARED FROM THE PLOT FOREVER only reappearing as a postgame newgame plus bonus boss that makes it impossible to complete the damn Masters Cup damn you fei damn you awesome amazing hella gay fei whom i love you deserved to be in a better game you deserved to be the matt-esque rival, i will never forget that you started off teasing that role and then just vanished... HELL, CAN SHE BE THE PROTAGONIST OF A SEQUEL OR SOMETHING game entirely about her and yuuko’s amazing story of love! also alphamon wandering in just to yell ‘I AM CANONICALLY TRANSGENDER’, make everyone a cup of coffee, and leave aaaaa why did i spend so long rambling every single complaint about this game, games in general, gender stereotypes in gender, life in general... its weird how just realizing ONE THING about a stupid walk cycle animation made me realise my general nebulous feeling of uncomfortableness that I could never explain about this game :P I am really excited for digimon world next order being better than this!