#as a person who had been envious of her friends her whole life cassandra really stuck with me and I suddenly felt so seen by disney

[llamasgotoheaven]

In Celebration of Cassandra: The Princess With No Happily Ever After

(Quick Note: This essay contains major Tangled The Series spoilers. Read at your own risk.) 

I really appreciate Tangled The Series so much.

In more than a dozen ways.

My favorite thing though, is the way it wrote Cassandra, and juxtaposes her against her sister Rapunzel. 

Lemme explain:

Since the very dawn of disney princess movies... Since Snow White and Cinderella and Aurora sang about what they wanted and wished for, and pushed themselves to endure in their hardest moments, we always saw them being rewarded by fate for it.

They get a found family, and a prince who rides off with them into the sunset, they become a beloved queen in their kingdom, lavished with love and riches. 

That is a narrative so many young girls grow up being spoon fed. It’s the feminized version of the American Dream that was born of an era when war was so overwhelming nobody really knew wtf else to do other than survive the horrors and anxiety engulfing them. I can appreciate that for how motivational and powerful it is as a message.

That said, there is a bitter reality many of us know. Whether you’re a girl, any kind of minority, or a white man, odds are you’ve possibly had the experience of several consecutive horrible years, or you will have that experience sometime in your life. 

We all at some point have the experience of doing our damndest every day, of toiling to reach our goals, and to be the best version of ourselves, hoping deep inside of ourselves that it will pay off.

What happens when it doesn’t? What happens when somebody you love gets everything you ever dreamed of? What if it looks like they had it handed to them, while you had to bust your ass and get next to nothing in return? 

What happens when you have a character like Cassandra? A girl who from the start, was just as goodhearted as any disney princess is, and you as narrator throw so much pain and hardship at her, while she has next to no emotional support to encourage her through it all? A disney protagonist like Cass, who still does her damndest and then watches her best friend get everything she’s dreamed of, while not getting any of it herself? In fact she’s actively blocked from some of her wishes by Rapunzel’s victories.

Cassandra’s vengeful, understandably upset character arc happens. 

To top it all off she is being manipulated by an evil ancient spirit to be even more bitter. Of course she’s pissed and afraid by the end of the show. 

The brilliance of this lies in the fact that disney is again being self-conscious and reflecting upon how hokey their repetitive, somewhat commercial optimistic messages can get. This particular character arc is disney taking its old “dreams do come true if you don’t stop believing” mantra and turning it on its head. It’s subverting our expectations. What if they don’t come true for so long that you have a harder and harder time believing, until you give up? What if your friend is the one who has it all, who is a really good friend but still cannot possibly understand or conceive of the layers and layers pain you’ve been through?

I think this is something true of many of us who grew up indoctrinated by disney rhetoric. Particularly millenials, who had access to a lot of movies growing up.

A lot of us feel like Cassandra. Many of us didn’t get a happy ending once we grew out of our adolescent years, even if we did our best most of the time. This happened to some of us while we grew up in an americanized culture that told us we could have anything if we work our hardest and preservere through pain. Tangled The Series effectively said: “Y’know what? Those girls and those people deserve to be seen as well. They deserve to have their story told, they deserve to be empathized with.” They became self-aware of the fact that not everybody will or can feel a deep connection with characters like Eugene and Rapunzel, who always seem to bounce back into a chipper optimistic mindset.

To wrap this commentary up I want to end on a more positive note: While it’s true that Cassandra has suffered incredibly, and as is put in a place where she inflicts pain on the people who care on her herself... She manages to forgive herself, and to move on to carve her own path. She removes herself from the life that’s making her miserable. She’s also incredibly resilient, indomitable and capable because of her negative experiences. They turned into opportunities for growth, maturity and self-reflection. I’m convinced that because Cassandra is so powerful when she’s self-isolating and bitter, she can be unbeatable once she accepts the help and love she deserves. 

Hopefully we can all bounce back the way Cass does in the finale, and gradually let go of the pain to become less cynical and more wise individuals.

Maybe we can let love in again, and accept that we’re incredible with our without our dreams coming true, 

We should by no means overglamorize hardship, or seek it out, but maybe our fairy godmother not showing up to save us is a different type of happily ever after. It’s a happily ever after that is nuanced, self made, and realistic. It’s one that prepares us for the volatility of life outside of traditional fairy tales, and doesn’t disappoint us when the universe is unfair.

[veridium]

miss independent

COLLEGE AU DISASTER COMING IN HOT 

I want to say that this chapter, even though relatively short and to the point, is a very important one in terms of content for me. Based on a lot of my experiences being a young queer person in activist/”social justice” spaces, and the ways in which people use those spaces for their own needs. This is all a eloquent way of me saying: gay drama, it sucks, and it’s real. The community isn’t a utopia!

So, uh, enjoy!

fic masterpost // last chapter

--

-- Theia The Gayuh: Hey 

Read 8:04am

-- Theia The Gayuh: Can we talk, please?

Read 8:13am. 

-- Theia The Gayuh: You turned on your read receipts just for this, didn’t you. 

Message Delivered.

She sends the messages Tuesday morning, and Liv can’t decide whether she’s angry or thankful she’s left her alone for 48 entire hours. Usually they can’t stand to be upset with each other more than the length of one L Word episode. Oh how the turn tables. 

Eventually, though, she does respond. After a whole day of classes, texting Cassandra about everything but the fact that Theia reached out, and seeing Ellinor in passing, walking hand-in-hand with Cullen. She’s glad they worked things out for now -- now being a day-by-day, sometimes even hour-by-hour kind of thing. They survived the first party saga of their respective relationships, and now she sympathizes with Cassandra’s desire for peace and discipline more than ever. Besides, it’s getting to be crunch time in the semester. They should be calming down. 

Olivia: Meet me at Johnny’s at 6, then. I can’t stay long. I have to study. 

Read 3:17pm. 

-- Theia The Gayuh: Sounds good. Thank you. 

If she scrolls up just a bit, she can find their last messages from before the war. Memes from gay instagram accounts, short threats of disownment and other heartfelt jokes. It’s not right being on the outs with her, but what can she do? She’s still angry, and that isn’t saying much. Olivia can be angry for years if she deems it necessary. 

She touches base with Ellinor, the other half of her brain, before she shows her face at the pizza place they agreed to meet. 

-- Ellinor: I don’t know, dude. Maybe she wants to apologize?

Olivia: I hope so because if it’s just more bullshit I’m going to be so mad. 

-- Ellinor: Cullen says to hit her with the crushed peppers if she fucks up.

Olivia: 👀

-- Ellinor: Okay I said it 

-- Ellinor: He says hope it works out. I said that was boring. 

Olivia: Be nice!! 

Before she locks her phone she looks back on the last messages Cassandra and her sent to each other from hours prior. They’re perfectly nice and sweet, not paragraph length like they used to be. The more they get to know each other the shorter the answers become and the less stressful it is to come up with what to say. She puts the car in park and turns the key, making one last wish that she won’t have to lose a friendship just so she can have a relationship.

Johnny’s is one of the most college-town holes in the wall there is. But, to be fair, their pizza is also the best in town -- or so Theia and Olivia swear every time they show up for the last by-the-slice orders at 1am. Now, in the socially acceptable hour of dinner for regular people, she’s reliving all the hazy memories when she walks in and sees Theia sitting back at a corner table along the wall, scrolling her own phone. 

Ugh. Fuck. 

She looks up and sees Liv standing like a scarecrow, and doesn’t smile. She just sits up and takes an anxious breath by the looks of it. Olivia tucks her head and walks over before it becomes a standoff in an old Western film. 

“Hey.” Theia says it first as Olivia drops her keys and wallet on the table. She does a subtle head nod in reply and takes her seat. That is more than enough. 

“Are you...how are you?” 

The sound of her voice is enraging still. Its sobriety and measured diplomacy, too. Where was it when she needed it? When Cassandra would have benefited from it? Oh, that’s right, drowned in a gallon of rum and bud lite. 

“I’m good. You?”

“Good.”

She holds back a glare. She shouldn’t be good. She should be far from good. But when she looks up, Theia’s face says as much. 

“I...I thought it would be better if--”

“H-how is Josephine?’

Theia gives her a confused look, hands sliding back and into her lap. “Uh...she’s...good. You haven’t been in touch with her?”

“Not since Saturday. I was planning on texting her.”

“Oh. Uh, cool. Yeah, you should do that.”

“Yeah.”

Awkward pause, part one, hits. Olivia’s eyes wander around the place, to the chalkboard signs with the beer tap menu, to the awkward high school-aged boy behind the counter re-folding takeout menus. Man, he still does not look a day over 15 with that haircut. 

“Liv.” Theia says it in a ‘let’s cut the crap’ kind of way, but she’s not ready to follow along. But she also can’t divert attention anymore so she keeps her mouth shut. 

“Liv, come on.”

“Hm?” she offers, and locks eyes with her. It’s then she notices the coca-cola cup of water and ice she has in her hand, straw by her mouth. 

“I know you’re mad at me.”

“Uh…” Olivia can’t hold it back anymore. This baiting and subtle nod to the issue is aggravating her bullshit meter. She smiles with impatience and shakes her head. “Uh, it’s not that I’m mad at you, Theia. It’s that you fucked up.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because you seem to be chilling with your ice water.”

“Ah.” Theia sighs, and sets down her cup. “So that’s how this is gonna go.”

So this is how this is gonna go? Ugh, she was right. It’s gonna be more bullshit. Not just the apology and explanation she deserves. No offer to apologize to Cassandra directly. No accountability. Why the fuck did she make this plan? Theia is never going to--

“Look, I know what I did was immature. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? What about Cass? You went full Mean Girls on her. If anyone should be here getting an apology, it’s her.”

“As long as I get one for the hours I spent talking to you and texting you about her when she was pulling her bullshit.”

“That’s not how that works!”

“Well it should!”

“Uh, hey.” From above both their steaming heads, the boy from the counter interrupted, standing like a beanpole with two menus in his hand. He eyed them both with a look not unlike the way the little girl in the movie Matilda looks at Ms. Trunchbull, and sets them down between them. Olivia blinks away her hostility as best she can, but Theia just rolls her eyes and looks away. Classy. 

“Thanks,” Liv says, but the boy is already halfway back to the counter. Talk about a way of saying ‘please hurry up with things so you can leave sooner.’

Theia sighs with dread and takes her menu, thumb pressing a corner bend as she stares at the lines of words. Olivia keeps hers flat on the table and retracts her hands, peering over it like a child. Maybe she should pull out a magnifying glass and also search for a will to live. 

“I just don’t get what you see in her.” Suddenly, Theia sets down the menu and folds her arms. She’s really ready to be completely obliterated. 

Olivia perks up fast, outrage in her posture as her mouth goes open wide. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Theia?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like. I don’t get it. I didn’t get it in the beginning, I didn’t get it at the party, and I still don’t.”

“If you don’t get it, fine. You aren’t in the relationship.”

“It’s not that, Liv. You have always been a certain kind of person, and you have always been outspoken about what it means to be queer. You deserve someone who is as passionate about it as you, who won’t...like, I don’t know. Gentrify it.”

“Gentrify it?!” 

The boy came back again. This time with a notepad and pen. Behind him an older man was peeking out from the window into the kitchen looking as if he had bribed him to return. 

“I, uh…” Theia said, still mad as she nearly tossed him the menu. “I’ll have the Hawaiian personal, please.”

“Chill,” he replied, sliding the menu under his arm. Then he looked at Liv, one eye twitching a bit narrower than the other. What, was something on her face?

“I’ll have a Margarita. Medium, please...” she looks at Theia when she bends her brow. “I’m bringing back some for Ellinor. I owe her for stealing five of her easy-macs.” 

She hands the menu back because the guy looks like he’s being held hostage, releasing him back into the wild. After that she folds her arms and rests them on the table, leaning onto the table. 

“Oh. I thought…”

“You thought I was bringing some for Cassandra? What, that she’s waiting outside with sunglasses on and a sniper in case things go bad?”

Theia bites the corner of her mouth and looks away. Her fingers twist together as she takes in the wall painting hanging next to them of the old river bridge just past downtown. College town shops always decorated with images you could see by virtue of a 5 minute walk in any direction. As if it heightened the experience or the pride in a bridge of all things. 

“You give her too little credit.”

Theia snorted. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, asshole?” Olivia tilted her head, countering her feistiness. “You know nothing about her.”

“No one does! So she’s gay now. That mean she’s going to stop hanging out with those sexist, stalking assholes in her Bible study? The ones who campaigned for Prop 13 last year?”

“I never saw her out there with them!”

“It doesn’t matter, Liv! She still wasn’t against them!”

“You don’t know that!”

Theia scooted back in her chair but didn’t get up. She rolled her eyes so hard her head went with them, and she locked them on one of the tv’s on the opposite side of the room. Sports, or something, playing on the screen. Olivia stayed where she was, in the exact shape she was, though her flight or fight instinct trampled her willingness to stick around. This was the complete opposite of how she always wanted it to go, of how she always thought it would be. Her life had become a Dr. Phil special where the envious best friend was sat across from the happy but plain looking married couple, begging the best friend to stop egging their cars.

“Is she out to her family?”

Olivia scoffed. “Theia, you’re gatekeeping again.”

“I’m not, I just asked a question,” she corrected, looking back down at her. 

“I...I dunno.”

“Really?”

“Probably not. She just came to the conclusion herself. I don’t think she’s had the time or reason to. Not until...well, I don’t know.” She grabbed the straw wrapper leftover from Theia’s drink and began playing with it. 

“Pfft. Gotcha.”

“That doesn’t matter, though. Why should it? So she can be the “correct” form of real?”

“Oh, don’t give me that. You know what I’m worried about. The same reason you were concerned when Josie and I got together. The thing you saw fit to bring up that night, in public, in front of everyone. Remember how not-whispery your tipsy whispering is?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought about it like that. At the time, it was an empowering speech-and-run that she made to expel her rage. The kind of tell-off everyone dreams of giving when faced with someone’s traitorous actions. She hadn’t taken into account the volume, or the environment -- had Josephine heard her? Had other people? Oh God, that might have been completely humiliating…

Theia watched her, and shook her head. “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and yes, she does know what you said.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that was a wonderful fight to have at 3am. Thanks for that.” 

“Theia, I--”

“Whatever, Liv. You know what I mean when I ask if she’s out. It’s different when we’re kids, when we’re poor...it’s not like that with you. You’re both adults, and she’s rich. What’s stopping her from doing what all those Beauty Queens do making out with our friends in the dive bars then running off to Mommy and Daddy’s house in the Dales?”

“She’s not rich, her fa--”

“Liv.”

Ugh, fuck. She rested back on her chair and ripped the wrapper in two. She caught her on something she would say was bullshit in any other context, and she hated her for it. Wealth wasn’t an individualistic thing, it wasn’t some easily-excluded condition. That was well-evidenced by her continued compliance with her Mom’s antics if it meant getting her tuition bills paid and health insurance secured. 

“You’re still being disrespectful and showing your privilege. It doesn’t matter the age of when someone comes out, it’s still difficult and uncomfortable. The fact that she is doing it, and doing it with someone in her life, is brave. And she and her family aren’t white. Neither are Josie’s. We won’t ever know what it’s like to do what they do. Money or no money.” If only you knew what she’s gone through, what she struggles with. Shit, if only *I* knew. 

“Ugh, you sound like those women’s studies harpies with all the buzz words.”

“I sound like a compassionate human being. You would do well to try it sometime.”

Theia slurped her water, visibly calmer than she was at the start. Perhaps a little too calm. Her heart was in the right place, if only she would admit she was just feeling protective and possessive of her best friend. Instead she was dunking and deep-frying her concern in narrow-minded visibility politics. Olivia flicked the ball of remaining wrapper onto the table, giving up on it as a plaything. She was looking at the person who helped her come to terms with her sexuality, the person who listened to her cry in the middle of the night after she’d have another fight with her Mom about wanting to cut her hair or have a pride flag in her room when she’d come home in the summer. They had gone through so much, and she wants to hold onto it with the hope that if she can change, Theia can, too.

“Well. I guess I’ll be wishing for her to prove me wrong, then,” Theia allows, shrugging her broad lesbian shoulders with her broad lesbian skepticism. This isn’t the last of it, and she isn’t convinced in the slightest. By the looks of it -- and by the knowledge Olivia has in 2 years of friendship -- she’s choosing not to pick the battle anymore. Relieving, but only to an extent. 

“Thanks, I guess. I still think you owe her an apology.”

“Fat chance.”

“Theia.” Olivia notices pizzas being brought out of the kitchen. Perfect fucking timing evaded them this far, why would it start now? “Apologize to her or I won’t let this go.”

“Oh come on.”

“I mean it--” she interrupts herself as the guy approached with Theia’s order and two pizza stands. She’ll have to wait until he’d do the second trip for her own meal. It felt like an hour, their stiff staring down of one another while Chad-Kevin-Trevor-whoever did his thing. Poor dude, he was annoying but he would get a good tip. No one wants to be at the mercy of gay drama. When at last everything was served, and the guy got out with his life, she pulled napkins from the dispenser and continued. 

“I’m not going to apologize to someone who proves me right the next day. I’m just not going to have her put a rift between us.”

“You have no faith in her and you don’t even know her!” Her put a rift between us? Her?

“I have seen this happen too many times in this town to blink it away, Liv. I’m not going to watch it happen to you and pretend it’s some big surprise.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

Theia chews away, dropping her slice down on the plate. Her greasy hands ate up the napkin she used to clean them off, finger by finger. “I can’t stop you from dating her. But you can’t stop me from having my gut feelings.”

Oh, fuck all. 

After a tense pause, Olivia grabbed the infamous crushed peppers and generously sprinkled them onto her own meal. “You know, maybe it’s for the better. If she were here she’d say she wouldn’t want your apology unless it was sincere. Which, obviously it isn’t, because you are an asshole.”

“Psh. Fine, say it’s that. All I know is I don’t say sorry unless actions prove it warranted. And I trust you enough not to do that thing everyone does when they get together.”

You mean U-Haul and crawl up each other’s assholes never to see anyone else again. Cool, that’ll be fun to attempt, considering I intend to keep you two as far away from each other as humanly possible. For my sake, and hers. Olivia took a large bite into her first steaming slice and, as always, immediately squirmed. 

“H-h-haw--”

“God dammit, Liv,” Theia grinned and slid her water to her side, which Olivia took and gulped from the rim. Fuck the straw. 

“Gah,” she gasps, and slammed it down. “I’m such a dumbass.” 

She met her glance, mouth lined with sauce and balsamic. Theia’s playful expression is her weakness. She chuckles for the first time all afternoon, pressing a crinkled up napkin to her mouth as she did so. Theia follows suit, leaning back and running her fingers through her down-and-tousled hair. She mutters a curse under her breath. It’s like opening a can of soda and letting the carbonation finally release. 

“Ugh, Liv, you’re always going to be my girl.” She reaches for the parmesean shaker and began dousing her pizza in it. A Hawaiian pizza with parmesean sounds disgusting, but the way she ogles it with hungry eyes, you’d swear it was the most delicious thing to ever be invented. 

Her statement though. Her statement makes Olivia’s heart creak. She wants so badly to nod and smile, fully believing in it as she always had. But the truth is -- and she hated herself for it -- the entire time she sits there she’s missing Cassandra. Missing her, the way she talks, the way she laughs when she had a mouth full of food. 

She watches Theia take her first cooled-down and thus safe bite, and for that split second she lets her inner frown weigh on her face.

The pizza isn’t for Ellinor, she confesses in her thoughts, one which she wishes to say out loud. But everything said not to. Everything said it wasn’t safe. And for that, she is at a loss. 

--

“Well, fuck her.”

Ellinor, having stolen a slice of the leftovers, thus proving Olivia’s fib somewhat obsolete, is adamant. Cross-legged in old basketball shorts and a tank with flannel on (peak pajamas aesthetic). All the while Olivia paces with a textbook in hand, trying to work out the anxious energy while also getting work done. A futile endeavor, a tale as old as time. 

“Ellinor, please.”

“Nah, fuck her. She knows what she did was fucked up!” said with a mouthful of margarita goodness. She gulps it down and then burps like a truck driver twice her age. Olivia has to giggle.

“Ahh, fuck, this hits the spot. What was I saying? Oh, yeah, fu--”

“I get it, okay!” Olivia shut the book and tossed it onto her desk. Huffing with indignation. What bright idea did she have thinking she could just be friends with so many opinionated and crass women? Oho, feminism, blah blah blah, women’s empowerment, blah blah, empowered women empower women, blah blah BLAH. 

“Well. Then what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to proceed as planned. Theia doesn’t feed me or pay my bills. Her opinion is purely arbitrary.”

“Uh huh, so that’s why you’re creating rubber burn marks on your carpet.”

“What?!” Olivia squeaked, looking back behind her bare feet. Oh, good one, Ellinor. 

“Liv.”

“Oh stop it! I’m doing my best. Theia is one of my first and truest friends. She’s the only one I’ve known as long as you.”

Ellinor slouched and scowled with bitchy apathy -- a talent she knew best. Sliding herself off her friend’s bed, she put her hands on her hips and stood toe-to-toe with her.

“Yeah, Liv, and only one of us isn’t being a dick about something that’s making you happy.”

Olivia frowns and slides her hands into her hoodie pocket. “It’s...it’s not the same. It’s different in the community versus out. I can’t--”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Ellinor…” 

Ellinor dragged her feet as she headed towards the door. “Last I checked, Liv, there isn’t a Hayley Kiyoko song about being gay meaning you get to step over boundaries like they’re hopscotch squares!”

“Ell--”

“Nah-ah!” she yelled, sliding in through the door’s narrow opening. Her finger went up in the air as she lingered. “I can cite sources, too, Ruth Gay-der Ginsburg!”

“...I hate you.”

From the hall, the same sarcastic voice echoed: “LOVE YOU TOO!”

She’s going to be saying that for the rest of the week. Fantastic. Olivia resigned herself and fell back on her bed, hands across her stomach as she wished to be anywhere else but there. She had always swore she would tape stars and planets to her ceiling but never got around to it. Truth was she wasn’t tall enough to reach, and Ellinor has no advantage in that department, either. But...she could ask Cassandra. She could do that now. She could do a lot of things. 

But first, she can do one right thing, for someone who didn’t deserve the heat she got. She unplugged her phone and held it above her head. 

Olivia: Hey, Josie. I talked to Theia about the party. I’m sorry I made an ass of myself at your expense. 

Read at 8:55pm

-- Josie: It was not the funnest thing. I appreciate your apology, though. Theia was being ridiculous, I’m sorry you had to deal with that. 

Olivia: It’s not your job to apologize for her choices. 

-- Josie: I know! Is Cassandra okay? 

Olivia: Yeah. A lot has happened. I’m feeling really overwhelmed. 

-- Josie: Oh, dear. You want to get coffee tomorrow?

Olivia: 😭

-- Josie: Lol, okay. I’ll meet you in the Hub.

[shannaraisles]

Set in Darkness

Chapter: 45 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: Language! Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Fair Warning

Mornings in Skyhold were an education in the myriad wonders of mortal man.

Take Iron Bull, for example. Every morning, those still sleeping in the tents were roused by the sound of the big Qunari breaking the ice on the communal water butt with his head, and swearing like a sailor as the frigid water tricked down to his pants. It wasn't uncommon to hear fresh icicles breaking off his horns as he went to wake the Chargers.

The next to wake after him were usually the warriors - Cassandra, Blackwall, Cullen. Which, of course, meant that Rory was also invariably one of the first to rise. But where she would sit huddled under a blanket with a mug of steaming tea, they seemed to think running drills was the perfect way to wake up. It wasn't that she couldn't appreciate their dedication and skill; she just didn't approve of the display of energy at such an ungodly hour. They were inevitably joined by Kaaras and Rylen, and other officers, exerting themselves until they actually steamed in the icy dawn.

As the sun began to peek into the courtyards, Evy would crawl under Rory's blanket with her, and not long after, Dorian generally joined them. The Tevinter mage wasn't much of a talker before breakfast, usually focused on taming his hair and mustache in sleepy silence, his eyes following the energetic warriors with vaguely envious disgust for their display of prowess. Varric wasn't silent when he roused himself, though he tended to limit himself to muttering his complaints as he went about his morning routine. To hear the grumpy dwarf tell it, the whole world just felt wrong, and only a cup of ale and a round of toasted cheese could make it right.

Josephine and Leliana emerged only when breakfast was ready to be served, each perfectly turned out, not a hair out of place, and by that point, Rory was usually working to rouse her patients so they could wash and breakfast. Some needed help with both, which meant she herself tended to be among the last to eat. Solas, Cole, and Vivienne breakfasted apart from the main throng, sometimes not becoming evident among the bustle of people until the sun was high in the sky. And eventually Sera would drag herself out of her blankets around mid-morning, well after everyone else was already about their business, and threaten to camp out in the kitchens unless someone fed her.

Thankfully, the Orlesian nobles who had started to arrive at Skyhold got up even later than Sera did, so they missed these fascinating insights into the early workings of the Inquisition. Just as well, really. Some people really weren't made to cope with seeing Inquisitor Adaar burn his tongue on his tea every morning without fail, and turn the air blue cursing about it. But Rory found that she enjoyed these layered wake ups. For someone who had hated early mornings for most of her life, it was a strange feeling. It wouldn't last, though - the rooms of the fortress were quickly becoming habitable. Soon, they wouldn't see each other until breakfast at the earliest.

Of course, as the days passed, there were more people to add to this morning routine. The merchants, who gossiped and chattered through their yawns; the new recruits under Cullen's immediate command, who swore and complained but dragged themselves out of tents to run laps before being allowed to eat; Master Dennet and his stable-hands, who made sure their four-legged charges were fed, watered, and already exercising before Bull attacked the water butt each morning. And eventually, the alchemists and apothecaries, some of whom had been up all night to tend the stills.

Elan Ve'mal, a member of the College of Herbalists, was the undisputed senior when it came to the small army of apothecaries, assistants, and Tranquil. She had apparently been in contact with Adan while he was in Haven; when she arrived, she had immediately sought out Rory and her team, quick to put her people to work on replenishing the Inquisition's stock of potions for healing and soothing various ailments. Only when that was done would the elven woman countenance using her equipment for other potions, such as the contraceptive Granthis had given Rory the recipe for what felt like an age ago. Elan had even gone out of her way to improve it, distilling the formula down until the dose was only a mouthful a day. That meant the healers would be able to give out potion bottles that would last a sensible woman a month or more, rather than force them to come back each time they got careless for a fresh dose.

It was a relief when Elan finally told her the first batch was ready. Rory had already confirmed four pregnancies by that point, three of which she'd then assisted in terminating at her patients' request. Whether she agreed or not, it wasn't her place to judge. It was her place to be supportive, and to offer options that would not result in certain death. The do-it-yourself alternatives were too awful to even consider. Her method wasn't pleasant, but it solved the dilemma without killing the patient. Still, she was glad to have the preventatives to hand again. Even if a woman was certain she had made the right choice, the process of inducing a miscarriage was painful and traumatic. Far better to use the contraceptive than to put people through that unnecessarily.

"They're talking about expanding the herb garden," Elan was saying as the two women made their way into the cloistered space. "That would be a great help. Most potions can be made with dried herbs, but occasionally we need them fresh."

"I'm sure if they're talking about it, it's likely to happen," Rory assured her with reasonable confidence. "Unless some alternative is being floated."

"The sisters are pushing for the garden to be made a place of contemplation." The elven herbalist sighed. "I can't see why it couldn't be both."

"Probably because people who don't know anything about herbs would pick the pretty ones if the space isn't clearly defined," Rory suggested ruefully. "The noble visitors aren't exactly what you'd call considerate."

"That is true, I suppose," Elan said in a regretful tone. "And sharing the space might result in the Chantry sanctioning what we are allowed to grow and use."

"Mmm, they don't really approve of medicine," Rory agreed. The Chantry certainly didn't approve of contraceptives outside the Circles, that was for sure.

"I wanted to ask you something, actually," the elven woman began curiously as they passed through the cloister around the garden. "Why did you confiscate those leeches? Every other healer I've known swears by blood-letting."

Rory grimaced at the memory of the jar filled with blood-suckers that she'd tipped into the waterfall that morning. "The only thing blood-letting does is weaken the patient further," she told Elan. "There's only one situation I can think of where relieving that kind of pressure might help, and no amount of leeches can accomplish what trepanning does in that case."

"Is it true that even medical leeches spread disease?" the herbalist asked. To be honest, the question surprised Rory - she hadn't realized people in Thedas were becoming aware of cross-infection methods. The majority of healers seemed still to rely on the dubious four humors theory, which she knew was absolute codswallop.

"It is very likely they do," she answered her colleague's question easily. "It's not as though you can sterilize a leech. What it picks up from one person's blood, it can easily pass onto the next. Like fleas and lice do."

"And that's why you don't use them?"

"Well, if I'm honest, they also make my skin crawl," Rory admitted sheepishly. "But if they did any good, I'd use them. Luckily for me, they don't."

Elan chuckled, pushing open the door to her workshop - a large chamber that was very crowded these days. "You're too honest for your own good," she smiled, inviting the healer inside.

Oh, I'm really not. "Well, I need people to trust me if they're going to tell me what's bothering them," Rory pointed out with a shrug. "The truth can be hard to hear, but it's better than living a lie you're not even aware of."

"Seen in that light, it makes a kind of sense," Elan agreed, leading the way between work benches stacked high with bubbling glasswork, each potion watched over by her many assistants, Tranquil and otherwise. "You're sure you're happy for me to keep this recipe?"

"You've improved it," Rory reminded her. "It's more yours than it ever was mine. If Granthis complains, he can take it up with me."

"Oh, Master Perivale created it?" The elven woman nodded to herself with a smile. "He mentioned that he knew you."

"He's a friend." A friend that I wrote, but still a friend. "How is he?"

"Still charming his way through the ranks of the Imperial Court," Elan told her in amusement. "There are rumors that even the Empress patronizes him from time to time."

"You know, that really doesn't surprise me," Rory drawled. "No wonder he's on the guest list for the Wintersend Ball."

"Always has his eye on the main chance, that one," Elan agreed sagely, coming to a halt in front of a reasonably clear table, on which stood a small open crate packed with bottles. "Most of this batch has been sent down to the city, as you requested, but this lot should do the fortress for a couple of months."

Rory nodded, silently counting the bottles. Plenty to be going on with. "And what was the new dosage again?" she asked, wanting to confirm that she had it right. It wouldn't do to start overdosing her patients just because the formula had changed.

"Two fingers for a human," the herbalist told her promptly.

"And half that for an elf or dwarf, right?" She nodded again as Elan confirmed she was correct.

"I'd ask them to take the first dose in front of you," the elf added. "If they're already carrying, they'll throw it straight back up again. Because it's so strong now, a pregnant body will reject it totally if it can."

"Good to know." Better than shoving my hand up their hoohar or playing with wee. Rory lifted the crate easily. "Thank you, Elan, this is an enormous help. We'd be lost without you and your team."

"It was an honor to be asked to continue Adan's work," Elan told her simply. "Now go away, I have work to do."

Laughing at this no-nonsense dismissal, Rory obediently took her leave, retracing her steps out of the workshop and back to the lower courtyard with the crate secure in her arms. Cullen's table was gone - he'd finally been set up in the far gatehouse tower as the finishing touches were put to the newly-rebuilt walkway over the lower space. Most of the tents were being cleared, accommodations having been found inside for almost everyone. It would still be some time before Skyhold was fully put to rights, but they were well on their way. Kaaras might even have a room of his own when he got back from the Emerald Graves.

Offering a grin to Evy, who was learning how to shave a man in the afternoon sunshine, Rory ducked into her consultation tent, setting the crate down next to the rest of the immediate treatment potions they held in stock. Pulling her stool up to the makeshift desk, she absently poured a measure of the preventative for herself, swallowing it down as her attention turned to a request for additional trained staff for the infirmary down in the city. She sighed wearily. Who would have thought that the senior healer would have all this admin to do? Her daily duties saw more writing than seeing patients these days. Reaching for her quill, she began to scratch a note to speak to Roderick about it ... and abruptly stilled as a wave of nausea swept through her. It only took a moment for the shock to give way to panic.

"Oh, fuck ..."

Pushing away from the desk, she only just made it to the chamberpot in time, heaving up not only the potion but the remains of her lunch as well. The smell was revolting; if she'd had anything else to throw up, she would have done. Sweaty and shaking, she reached for her ever-present cup of water, washing her mouth out before slowly sipping to calm her roiling stomach.

"Fuck," she said again, with feeling. Her body had certainly rejected the preventative, right enough. But that doesn't necessarily mean what I think it does. Could be anything. Just check it out. It's probably just because you're not use to the brew being this strong, that's all.

Checking the toggles on the tent flap were secured, she found a glass beaker, and set about the business of collecting a urine sample. Thank goodness I'm wearing a dress today, was all she could think as she willed herself to relax. She didn't need much, after all. Just enough to run a test she'd done dozens of times for other women. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she did manage to produce about an inch, trying not to panic prematurely. Washing her hands, she located the little pot of powdered Amrita Vein, tipping a pinch into the beaker with trembling hands. Now ... stir for one minute.

The act of counting the seconds helped to calm her down. There was no reason to think she might be ... that, not really. Yes, she'd missed the last month at least, but that was nothing new. Her cycle often skipped a month or two when she was under stress, and the journey from Haven had been all kinds of stressful. Not to mention, she and Cullen had been careful not to risk it. All right, so there had been that one time against a tree, but surely not. One mistake in the heat of the moment couldn't possibly have happened at exactly the right time, could it? That would hardly be fair.

The minute up, she looked down at the mixture in the beaker. Who ever said that life was fair?

"Shit."

[impalaanddemons]

Gravity - Part 10

Summary: Reader’s a young security officer (Lieutanent Junior Grade) who happened to be on an away mission and fall hard for a certain Chief Engineer. Both of them aren’t the most outgoing regarding their feelings and tend to just watch each other from a distance, which is going to change.

Wordcount: 1600

A/N: Writing that was hard on a personal level. I still think that the whole scene is important and necessary.

This fiction is set in AOS

Warnings: death, hurt, comfort, burial, fluff

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

„Lieutenant Cassandra Maximoff was, first and foremost, a friend to many of us.“ The words, though chosen with love and spoken while biting back tears, sounded hollow in your ears. You hated saying them, because they felt like a lie to you. Your mouth moved, but your mind was far away. If you concentrated on this speech, you’d break down in front of everyone gathered here. So many had come. You weren’t surprised exactly - burials somehow always attracted all different kinds of people - but it was easy to forget just how popular Cas had been. Your world had revolved around her for such a long time, you had forgotten to notice anymore. It stung. Half of security was there, it seemed. It was a stern faced crowd, eyes focused on you. You saw science blues and commanding yellows here and there. Some faces you knew, others you had seen fleeting by, some were unknown to you. There was Engineer Mihan - the man she had died protecting - and the stony expression of his faced was carved with guilt. His right arm was in a sling and, yes, there was a nurse perching on his shoulder. McCoy had probably insisted. Captain Kirk was there - he turned up at every burial. To your knowledge he’d never missed a burial, not when circumstances allowed it. Being in security, the division with the highest death rate, you’d seen a couple of burials already and were well accustomed to Kirk being there. And next to him was … Monty. He donned his grey uniform jacket with the choker, tight-fitted and accentuating his slender build perfectly. He stood there and the expression in his face was enough to make your heart overflow. With him, you would’ve been able to take on the universe itself.

„When I first met her, we were both in starfleet academy. Same year, but she already seemed capable taking care of everything the world would throw at her.“ Everything but this damn mission. There was not even a fire fight. You had gone in to accompany the engineering team, there was something wrong with the nacelles or whatever it was - it had heated up and they had been to slow and the fucking thing exploded and pierced her leg and scattered an arrangement of metals on and into everyone nearby that would’ve made an metallurgist envious. It was an accident. A stupid freak accident. One moment they’d been smiling and laughing because it was all a piece of cake that didn’t even require you to do real work. Maybe if you were more cautious … maybe you could’ve … no. There were no ifs and buts.

„Lastly, Cas would always believe in her friends. Her last words…“ you stopped and Bancroft and Mihan who’d have been there, just before the explosion, managed to smile and cry at the same time. „Her last words to me where a question. She had asked if I were going to ask a boy out.“ a grin crept on your lips and you felt tears running down your cheeks. A burial was always a last goodbye. Last chance. „She always believed that, even if you contemplated jettisoning yourself out of an airlock, you should never give up on your dreams and hopes. Never letting reality get the best of you. She was the person to strive for the best in not only herself, but everyone around her. And this is something that we should always remember, if only in her honor.“ Silence. You stepped down from the little podium, right into Scottys arms. His hands caressed your arms gently. The rest? The rest was ceremony. Captain Kirk stood up to say a few words about starfleet and the line of duty, but you didn’t listen anymore. „Goodbye, Cas. I’ll try not to make an ass out of myself without you.“ you whispered.

A burial always provided a closure, even if people thought they didn’t need one. It was some sort of a reset button that would allow you to finally ease back into a daily routine. Of course it would never be the same as before - it was the nature of a loss to fundamentally affect your life. Nonetheless you eased back into routine, even if it wasn’t the one you were used to. There were slight changes that would catch you off guard sometimes, but as time passed and shore leave approached it got slowly better. First you started patrolling again, the easiest of all your duties. Patrols on alpha gave you a great opportunity to see and meet people all over. Beta was always busy. Nightshift were the times to ponder on life and coming shore leave. Discussions amongst operation where to take the party to on Yorktown were already heated. There were a couple of clubs that had been suggested by crew members who’d already been to Yorktown, but the debate would surely dominate mess hall for the next couple of days until arrival. You had decided not to interfere, as you would attend day one of the party - but had planned on spending at least some amount of time with your boyfriend. If he wanted to. You hadn’t actually gotten around to ask him for his plans and some of the guys had already been chiding you for it. They were, of course, right.

„Ya know, lass“ Scotty scooted around in his room, while you lay on his bed, stretching and holding a hand-to-hand-combat manual over your head, lazily eyeing the pictures depicted there. „This picture here is complete bullshit, Monty.“ you turned the book around to show him the picture and he raised his eyebrows as he examined the picture. „Looks painful to me.“ you laughed at his answer: „Yeah, but it’s bullshit, if you shove your arm around someones neck like that, it’s completely ineffective. You should just grab his other shoulder with the arm that’s around his neck, you know …“ He cautiously shook his head and smiled at you: „Remind me to never get in a fight with ya.“ The engineer chuckled and you rolled your eyes, throwing the book to the site and looking at him. „What where you saying before?“ A sigh left his lips and he leaned back on his office chair, crossing his arms in front of him. „Ya know, I’ve thought … it’s a bit crazy, I admit it. But maybe … I’ve talked to the Captain and he doesn’t care .. well… he does care of course, but it’s our decision he says, and …“ - „Spill it. You’re babbling worse then I am.“ He cleared his throat. „I thought, maybe, ya’d want to share rooms with me.“ At that you stared at him dumbfounded. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Not with everything that had happened. And the fact that you were merely a thing for about 2 weeks now. You did spent an awful lot of time at his quarters, though. Well, actually - both of you spent most of your free time here, apart from your excursions around the ship. „I …“ you began, still somewhat wordless. „Not right now, of course, ya’ll keep your quarters and all, but.. maybe after Yorktown .. maybe when ya’re more sure about this, I thought … thought this sounded nice.“ A smile tugged at your lips and at that he came over to the bed and positioned himself over you. „We should .. explore that idea.“ you pondered and lifted your head to steal yourself a kiss. He was so … eager. Everything he did, he really meant. There was no trace of a lie in this man, only earnest fondness. „On another note“, his voice lost an octave or so as he spoke, his right hand leading your wrists one after another over your head and gently keeping them in place. He kissed you once more. „What are you’re plans for Yorktown?“ You would have to talk to him about being sexy and holding important conversations at the same time. Your head felt dizzy and your thinking was not in prime condition. „Well, later in the evening there’ll be the usual operations party. Place still to be determined, as far as I am up to date with the mess hall talk.“ pausing for a second and enjoying the view, you smirked up at him: „But maybe news in the officers mess is different?“ He snorted and his hand left your wrists, simply leaning over you now. „Officers mess is very, very nosy about a certain chief engineer and his suddenly blooming love life.“ You had expected as much. „But!“ he lifted a finger and grinned: „I know for a fact that we’re going to arrive early on Alpha. and I’ve planned a few things besides getting wickedly drunk in the evening, so I hoped you hadn’t planned anything yet?“ Your cheeks flushed with excitement as you shook your head. „As a matter of fact, I haven’t, as I was hoping to ask a certain Engineer with a rekindled love life out. What have you planned?“ „Ha“ he laughed at your question and lifted himself from the bed. „You’ll see.“ „So it’s a surprise?“ „Aye, lass.“ You straightened yourself and wiggled your eyebrows: „Any way to coax you into telling me?“ „Nah, it’s a surprise“ he seemed to enjoy this quite a lot. You nibbled at your lower lip, pondering. „Don’t pull tha’ face, lass. Jus pick somethin’ nice to wear.“ This man never stopped to intrigue you.

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