tristorine
Well isn't this a clever 'work around' my dream come true, I get to be sandwiched between the Martel's.
@ladamedemartel @lordofthestrix
Who asks the other on dates: Katherine doesn't ask, she either tells them theyre going out or announces shes bored and either waits for Aurora to make a scavenger hunt, or for Tristan to arrange something
Who is the bigger cuddler: Katherine is a needy little shit, but she only cuddles on her terms. its ok tho bc her terms are quite often and she just climbs in laps- fully in denial that shes needy at all.
Who initiates holding hands more often: Tristan, usually with aurora, for Katherine its an absent minded affection she doesnt think to do very often.
Who remembers anniversaries: Apparently neither of the girls even know what day it is at any given time, so Tristan.
Who is more possessive: I imagine its all varying degrees and levels depending on the day, the ruling planet, the tides, and season.
Who gets more jealous: Honestly, and imma tattle on her and shell hate me for it but- Katherine. Because she knows she is and always will be the expendable one in that little whatever they call it. If someone had to go it will always be her. Some days she can take it out of sight out of mind after all theyre not serious and she doesnt have feelings for either of them, some days she cant and on those days she's particularly withdrawn and 'i dont give a fuck' in attitude. Very pouty and quiet.
Who is more protective: The Martel's are protective of each other first and foremost, Katherine is experienced in surviving on her own- however I would put fourth the possibility that if it seemed fun and fucked up Klaus' day one of the Martel's could possibly aid Katherine if she required it.
Who is more likely to cheat: Depending on if its even applicable I would say Katherine, and most likely acting out because she cant use her words and doesnt know how to say she feels left out and or neglected.
Who initiates sexy times the most: Is either of them paying attention to her? No? Then it's Katherine. Obviously for attention lmfao.
Who dislikes PDA the most: I think they all like being publicly claimed, though Katherine is a little more reserved in her affections for Tristan when Aurora is around- for obvious reasons.
Who kills the spider: Whoever feels inclined to do it if at all? Katherine says the spider isnt worth disrespecting her red bottoms like that <3
Who asks the the other to marry them: AHAHAHA Listen if the words came out of anyone it would be in the context of Katherine being asked to officiate a wedding for the other two.
Who buys the other flowers or gifts: Still 100% behind the idea that Katherine just brings home things she finds that are lavender scented and gives them to aurora, bath bombs, air spray, dryer sheets???? They dont even use them?? But it was lavender scented and Katherine brought it home bc shes a good impulsive hunter gatherer.
Who would bring up possibly having kids: None of them, They dont even invite Katherine's scary vampire daughter to dinner.
Who is more nervous to meet the parents: They all dead son.
Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry: Katherine has her own room, so none of them, and if she really wants to get away well theres a boarding house in mystic falls with her soul mate she can go bother. <3
Who tries to make up first after arguments: Neither of the girls <3 theyre too stuborn
Who tells the other they love them more often: This is clearly Tristan and Aurora to each other. Aurora more tells Katherine how pretty and smart and special she is, and Katherine is more than ok with that.
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If it's okay with you, could you write a drabble about the hypothetical aftermath of Amane getting attacked by Kotoko?
Welp thank you pal for making me absolutely insane with this request 👍 I ran through a few hypotheticals and realized I had to shift some things around since there were so many absolutely tragic outcomes. I worked something out but damn if it didn’t make me emotional to think about how uniquely rough Amane has it. Even making sure she's in a good place at the end, this got pretty serious, so warnings for child abuse and cult references.
(So in canon, Kotoko goes in order and attacks Fuuta, but Kazui steps in. Then she attacks Mahiru while he’s distracted with his injuries. She’s about to attack Amane, but Mikoto gets in the way (my hc that he did it on purpose survives!). By the time they reach a draw, Kazui is back, and the two of them can prevent Kotoko from any further action against Amane. Sticking to this apparent system of three attacks and one rescue, I’m just shuffling around the injuries for this story. Fuuta’s attack went unnoticed, and he’s in the same state as canon Mahiru. Mikoto steps in before Kotoko can fight Mahiru, so Mappi’s the one who get out physically unscathed. While Mikoto checks on Mahiru, recovers himself, or discovers Fuuta, Kotoko is able to attack Amane next. Kazui comes to help, but not before she leaves Amane looking like canon Fuuta.)
Mahiru could practically feel her heart shatter into a million pieces when Amane finally cried in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear yesterday – it was the shock, Shidou said. Mahiru was skeptical. After all, she had been shocked, too, and cried plenty.
Amane woke as she came in with breakfast. She took a moment to survey herself, bandages peeking out from beneath her pajamas and an eyepatch securely over her right eye. As calmly as one might say “good morning,” she started to cry. Mahiru might have missed it, if Amane hadn’t wiped at her good eye with her sleeve.
“Oh, sweetheart…!” Mahiru rushed over to her. “It’s okay, I’m here.” She wanted nothing more than to wrap the girl in a secure embrace, but she remembered the mass of bandages that were around her chest. Shidou had mentioned broken ribs and bruises. It took everything in her not to cry along with Amane, at the thought.
“I can get you another ice pack, if you need. Or more medicine.” Her mind spun with ways to help with pain. Many of the first aid supplies had been used to keep Fuuta from the brink of death, but surely there were extras to spare for Amane.
The girl just shook her head.
She muttered, “I can’t… I…I’m going to be punished, I’m going to be punished…”
“No! You’re safe now.” Mahiru placed her hands gently on Amane’s arms. “Kotoko’s not coming back. We’re all watching over you. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you anymore.”
“That’s not…” Amane pulled away. Her voice stayed level, despite hiccups interrupting her. A hand reached up to her eyepatch. “It’s this. It’s all of this. It’s sinful. I took it off last night, but he must have…” She started unwrapping it. “They’re going to punish me...”
With a careful motion, Mahiru held it in place and took Amane’s hands into her own. She’d been picking up on the signs ever since they arrived here together, and a final wave of understanding washed over her.
“I can’t let you do that.”
Amane’s expression twisted, though words came out far more frantic than fiery. “Let me go.”
Mahiru didn’t. “I’m sorry. Amane, you need this treatment.”
“That is not your decision to make. That is not any human’s decision to make.”
Mahiru pressed her lips together. “I know. But I can’t watch as you… I can’t sit by again while someone…” She was careful not to apply any pressure, but she could no longer fight the urge to gather Amane up in her arms. “You don’t need to be afraid of those people, anymore.”
“I’m not afraid.” Amane hiccuped. “They love me, and I love them. I need to be good for them.”
“I love you, and I don’t want to see you in pain.”
“You just pity me because I’m young.”
“Why does your age matter? You are a lovely young woman – you are my friend – and I can’t bear to see you in pain.”
The two sat in silence for a moment. Mahiru doubted she would take that as an answer; Amane had refused to call any of the others her friend. At least she didn’t argue. In fact, it seemed she was leaning into the embrace a bit more. She sighed a shaky breath into Mahiru’s uniform.
“Listen, Amane. Can you do me a favor? I’m trying to be a good girl, too. To make up for something awful, I need to make sure you’re alright. Can you help me? Can we be good together?”
A long pause followed. Amane’s voice spoke up, ever so gently.
“I suppose I can consider it.” She added quickly, “for the sake of your redemption. Of course.”
“Of course.”
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Could I request "cooking is an art form" with mahiru and presumbly orekoto? I read your Night drabble of those 2 and now the idea of a potential friendship has been stuck in my mind for days, that was probably the sweetest interpretation of him I've seen! Mahiru can't cook in the current state she's in though so I guess orekoto could act as her hands...?
Ah thank you so much!! I was so worried about doing Orekoto justice, that's so exciting you enjoyed 😭 We still don't have a ton of characterization for him, so bear with me, but I absolutely loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request -- with food playing such an important role in Mahiru's story/symbolism, and the pair's unique relationship, this made me so crazy to think about !!!
The knife twirled through Mikoto’s hands. He brought it down with a grunt. Emotion pulsed through his veins. He went back for another swipe, much harder than necessary. He wiped spatter from his face.
“You’re making a mess.” Mahiru observed from behind.
He glanced back to find her scowling at the tomato he was taking out his frustration on. “Who gives a shit? We’re not on cleanup duty.”
He wasn’t supposed to be on cooking duty, either. It was Mahiru’s night according to their usual rotation, but she was in no shape to do any physical activity. Mikoto must have volunteered, and also gotten into some fight about it, because now there he stood: angry at an unknown source, full of adrenaline, and worst of all, in charge of tonight’s curry.
“I suppose…” Mahiru said. “I think that’s Muu tonight, I’ll apologize to her later.”
It was unsettling, how she remained positively cheery as she walked him through each step of the recipe, despite her current condition and his bad attitude. Not that he’d ever turn his anger on her. Mikoto approved of her, and that was enough for him. She’d been going through so much at the hands of their common enemy, he wouldn’t say a single thing against her. Even as she tested his temper with her cooking instructions.
“No, no!” With her good hand, she tugged on the side of his uniform. “You have to turn the carrot as you cut it. Like -- yes, like that!”
Mikoto rolled his eyes as he did what he was told. “It’s all going to get cooked together anyways, it’s not a big deal.”
“It is! You have to take your time with things like this.” She placed her hand over her heart. “It’s about the process, not just the final product. Cooking is an art form!”
“It’s about the final product to me. I’m fucking starving.”
She was briefly distracted with the next set of instructions, telling him how to combine everything over how much heat. When she returned to the topic, her lighthearted voice was laced with a bit of desperation. “I mean it, there’s something magical about pouring your heart into something for someone else. Putting in your time. A little finesse here and there.”
“I know what it’s like to do something for someone else -- and there is absolutely no finesse involved. Or potatoes.” He gestured to the cut pieces before dumping everything into the pot over the stove.
“One of the most universal love languages is food, you know? People make meals and treats for their loved ones in every culture, in every time.”
“They do a lot of other things, too.”
“You went to art school, you understand. This is an expression of yourself!”
“It’s a waste of time.”
“It’s the surest way to help someone!”
“That’s a load of bullshit.”
There was a pause. Then a nervous laugh. Then, “yeah.” As she dropped into more uncharacteristic silence, he stole a glance at her.
Tears poured from her eyes.
“Mahiru?” Fuck, he didn’t mean to make her cry.
“It is.” she hiccuped. “I thought… I thought it could save him. I made this big meal… I thought… But I was so stupid…”
She buried her face in her hands, offering weak apologies for the sudden outburst. He threw the lid over the pot before stepping back to her.
“Hey, hey. Come on. Don’t cry.” It was a command rather than a comfort.
She didn’t listen. She just continued sobbing and blubbering on. “It was all stupid, worthless… I should have known…”
He crouched by the wheelchair. There didn’t even seem to be anything wrong, they’d just been talking about food. Why was she such a mess? He gave an impatient sigh. No reaction. What was Mikoto’s nickname for her again? “Listen, Mappi --”
She snapped her head up to look at him.
Her teary eyes flicked all over his face, making him scowl. “What?”
“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, though her breath still hitched. “Sorry. You said… and well… I thought you’d gone away. I want you to stay.” She took his hand. “You.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because you understand me.”
He did not. Like, at all. But he kept his mouth shut.
Thankfully, she was too talkative not to explain herself. “You love someone very much. That love turned out to be dangerous -- deadly. And you weren’t forgiven for it.” She pressed her lips together, suppressing the wave of emotion that almost overcame her. “And now we’re both getting what we deserve for it.”
“Like hell we are.” He felt the spark of rage again. “Neither of us deserve any of this shit, okay?”
“But --”
“No.” He glared at her. That familiar fire rose up inside him. “I’m tired of all your speeches and optimistic crap. You’re always falling over yourself for others. You’re pathetic. This place is hell, so you need to get your shit together and act like it. You might be willing to forgive the others, you might be able to treat them with that stupid sweetness all the time, but no one’s going to do the same for you. Stop letting them fuck with you.”
She gaped at him. He realized he’d leaned in very close. He prepared himself for more tears, or maybe some cowering away from him. Good. Mikoto didn’t need people like her who would convince him this verdict was deserved. He didn’t need any of these people. It was fine to push them all away.
Mahiru surprised him by leaning over. Her head rested on his chest. “It’s hard. It’s so hard, Mikoto. But… I’ll try.”
His attention was quickly ripped away by a hissing behind him. He yanked himself away from her to run to the curry, which was bubbling and burning and spilling out of the pan all over the stovetop.
With an outpouring of profanities and clattering of dishes, he cleaned the sad remains of dinner off the burner. When he looked back at Mahiru, she had dabbed at her eyes and composed herself slightly.
“It’s okay,” she said, “I’ll pick something easier you can make instead.”
“Nah, I’ll make more curry. Tell me how much of everything again.”
“A-alright.”
His agitation slowly faded as she began her gentle instructions again. Though he had just tore her apart for it, he was grateful for her patience with everyone around her. He probably could have left, then, seeing how calm the kitchen became. But he wasn’t risking ruining the meal a second time with an unexpected switch.
And maybe Mahiru’s words still played through his mind.
The food was back on the stove in no time. He stood diligently next to it. They’d lapsed into a content silence. He still didn’t know what had set her off earlier, but wasn’t about to ask questions.
Mahiru had regained her usual bright smile. “Hey, when I get better, I’ll cook something for you, okay? I think you don’t appreciate cooking because no one’s made something special for you before. I want to do that.”
He sneered. “Heh, sure. And I’ll let you in on my preferred art form.” His words were layered with sarcasm. By now, she could guess that included destroying things by putting all of one’s might behind a powerful swing.
But she giggled, completely unfazed. “Well, friendship is about give and take, right? I’d love to try.”
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