#i figured why not share it for femslash february

[ghostchasersmagazine]

Femslash February 2024 - Mystery

Fandom: Hanna-Barbera (Speed Buggy/Scooby Doo crossover) Ship: Debbie/Velma Summary: Debbie finds something to investigate and tries to impress Velma along the way. Word count: 2,414

Velma was stirred awake by the sound of the door creaking open. She lifted her head to see what she could make out without having to get up.

Across from her, Daphne was still asleep in her bed, so it wasn't her moving around. Scanning the rest of the room, Velma couldn't spot any unusual shapes until she made it to the door. Standing in the doorway was a figure, the hall light bright enough to outline what looked like a human shape.

Then it started towards her.

The sudden movement jolted Velma upward and had her reaching for her glasses. But not to try and escape from the room like she normally would in this kind of situation, just to see who or what was approaching her.

She slipped on her glasses to see it was in fact a who that was now at the end of her bed, a who that would have been a pleasure to see even in regular circumstances.

"Velma!" Debbie greeted in a whisper-shout. "Good, you're awake. Come on, I have to show you something."

"What is it?" Velma asked, already sliding off the bed and into her slippers.

"I have to show you!" Debbie grabbed Velma's arm and began dragging her out of the room. "It's at the end of the hall."

As she was being led away Velma took the opportunity to shut the door behind her. "You know, it's a nice change of pace to get pulled from my room in the middle of the night by someone who isn't plotting my demise."

Debbie was planning something else instead. At the end of the hall, she let go of Velma and confidently pointed at the window. "See?"

Velma took a moment to collect herself and then peered out the window. It didn't take long to spot what Debbie was talking about. "The light is on down the road. Didn't the owner of this place say that house was abandoned?"

"He did, but I saw that light on as I was headed to bed and knew I had to get you." Debbie left out the part where she checked to see if the light was still on multiple times before doing so. "I think it's suspicious and we should investigate."

Velma nodded. "That is strange. Let's go wake the others and-."

"Hold on," Debbie interjected, placing her hands on Velma's shoulders. "I said we should investigate it. We don't need to get anyone else."

"Why not? It would be unwise for us to leave without letting someone know."

"Because..."

Debbie looked away, trying to come up with a decent excuse.

"... what if the light goes out while we're getting everyone? The light could be on some sort of timer, you know. We need to hurry!"

Velma gently took Debbie's hands off her shoulders. "I suppose that's a possibility."

Debbie wrung her hands. The lack of overwhelming agreement from Velma was making her second-guess herself. "Well, do you wanna go or not?"

Velma observed Debbie before responding. She noted how Debbie had faltered when lightly questioned, but also how she had gone to her specifically to share what she had seen, and her seeming eagerness to get physically close to her.

It didn't take long to deduce that Debbie had other things on her mind besides the mysterious light. But Velma found herself not minding; she wasn't one to turn down an investigation, and if someone like Debbie wanted to participate, then all the better.

"I do think it would be a good idea to see what's up with that light," Velma said. She held out a hand before Debbie could get too excited. "But I do insist that we tell someone we're leaving first."

That insistence is how they ended up in the garage.

"Speedy," Debbie whispered, tapping on his hood. "Speedy, I need to tell you something."

Speed Buggy partially opened his eyes, not awake enough to look up at her. "W-what is it?"

"If anyone asks, Velma and I are investigating the house down the road. But only tell them if they ask first."

"If we find out anything you'll be the first to know," Velma felt the need to add.

Speed Buggy closed his eyes again, too drowsy to care. "S-sure thing girls. Whatever you say."

Debbie nodded in satisfaction. "Thanks, Speedy. Now we can head out."

She was the first out the door. It was dark, cold, and quiet, all the hallmarks of a spooky evening. She assumed that was perfect mystery solving weather.

Debbie then jumped at the sound of the door closing behind her, and after confirming it was just Velma, instinctively leaned on her for warmth. "Chilly out here."

"Indeed." Velma let her eyes adjust to the darkness. With only the light in the window as a target and a little bit of moonlight to help illuminate the path, it wasn't going to be the easiest to get there, but it was doable. She linked her and Debbie's arms together so they wouldn't get separated during the walk over. "We should be fine as long as we follow the street." She started pulling Debbie along with her.

Debbie took the opportunity to wrap her free arm around Velma's linked one to further her warmth huddle.

It was quiet as the two of them traveled down the road, and the further they went, the more it was starting to get to Debbie. She glanced over at Velma to see how she was reacting.

She thought Velma looked unfazed by it all, keeping right on towards the house. She was determined, but also considerate in the way she kept a hold of her without grabbing too tight. She liked that about Velma.

Still a little unnerved but wanting to match Velma's stride, Debbie decided to fill the silence.

"So, Velma. When doing these investigations, what do you think the best first step is?"

"Bringing a flashlight."

"Of course, very practical." Debbie paused for a second. "What about the best second step?"

"Realizing when you've found somewhere to investigate." Velma stopped in her tracks, still holding onto Debbie to prevent her from stumbling over.

All things considered it was a very average house they had arrived at. Two stories, little damage to the outside, not even any foliage covering the walls. Besides the unknown light in the window, there was no real reason to look at it.

But looking at it is why they were there. Velma unlinked her arm from Debbie's and went up the porch steps, Debbie close behind her.

She tried the doorknob. "Locked. Funny, you'd think that if this house was abandoned as quickly as the story says, the owner wouldn't have bothered locking the door."

"So, our culprit is someone who would have access to the house," Debbie said, trying to think of a conclusion to jump to. She wanted to show off her investigative skills right away. "Obviously our first suspect should be the town locksmith."

Velma disagreed but didn't get a chance to voice that opinion.

"No, too obvious. She could never get away with it." Debbie pondered again. "Let's see... maybe it's the guy who owns the house we're staying at. If he was a friendly neighbor, he could have gotten a spare key for emergencies. Or maybe the sheriff? If the townsfolk trusted anyone in town with their spare keys it would be him, right?"

Velma still disagreed. She knew that if one was to draw conclusions about motive solely based on the technical ability to access the possible crime scene, the obvious suspect would be the banker who owned near all the property in the town. Yet, she didn't feel the desire to voice that opinion.

She liked listening to Debbie's deductions. Her conclusions were charming, and her voice matched the enthusiasm of her movements, it bouncing as she tapped her finger to her chin.

Not wanting to risk ruining her mood, Velma decided to switch topics instead. "We need to find a way into the building before we accuse anyone of anything. Let's look for another entrance."

Being spoken to pulled Debbie out of her head. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. Good thinking, Velma."

With that Velma took Debbie's hand - it was still dark after all - and led her off the porch and into the yard.

Debbie again took the chance to huddle close to Velma.

There wasn't much luck in terms of alternate entrances. The back door to the house was locked, the first story windows were all locked, and there wasn't even a cellar door to pry open. The only option they really had was the second story window that got their attention in the first place, the one the light was coming from and the only one that was open.

"Whoever turned on the light up there must have had the same problem we did," Velma said. She let go of Debbie's hand and began to look around. "You don't suppose there's a ladder around here, do you?"

But Debbie didn't answer. She was too busy thinking about how her plan to impress Velma with her detective skills wasn't working. She needed to come up with something else.

She had a vision in her head of how the next few minutes could play out. If there was no ladder, then she would need to help Velma crawl through the window - no, even better, she would go through the window first and pull Velma up behind her. Surely her bravery in being willing to go into the creepy abandoned house first would woo her, just like how her bravery in wanting to investigate it had convinced Velma to come with her in the first place.

"No luck with a ladder," Velma reported back. "One of us will have to get up on the other's shoulders and get to the window that way." She looked at the window and frowned. She didn't mind crawling through a window when she needed to, but the idea of scaling a wall in her slippers was unappealing. "I'll give you a boost, Debbie."

Debbie grinned to herself. "Sure thing, Velma!"

It was a shaky start, but soon enough Debbie was on Velma's shoulders and reaching for the bottom windowsill. She could touch her fingertips to the sill but couldn't get a grasp on it. She stopped for a second to consider a way to get just a little more height. She then ruled out jumping and had to come up with a second idea.

Velma was staring straight at the wall instead of up at Debbie during this, suddenly bashful. It wasn't until she felt the weight disappear from one of her shoulders that she looked up.

Debbie had placed one of her feet on the wall for balance and then launched herself upwards. That was just enough momentum for her to grab the bottom sill and pull herself up onto it. Straddling the sill and holding onto it with one hand for stability, she leaned down and outstretched her other arm to Velma.

Even when up on her tiptoes though, Velma couldn't quite reach Debbie's hand. She gave a small huff at the predicament before following Debbie's lead by placing a foot on the wall to push herself upward.

As she was able to grab Debbie's hand, she felt her feet slipping from underneath her, causing her to grasp onto Debbie's arm with her other hand as she tried to rebalance herself.

Debbie then panicked and tried to pull Velma up immediately, letting go of the windowsill so she could hold onto her with both hands. "I got you!"

But that lack of extra steadiness proved to be troublesome, as the moment she was able to get Velma onto the windowsill with her, the extra weight became too to handle, and she fell backwards into the room.

This forced Velma to catch herself and crawl through the window after her.

"Are you all right, Debbie?" she asked, helping her into an upright position.

Debbie held the side of her head and sniffled. "I'm fine." She looked away from Velma so she couldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. So much for bravery.

Velma gingerly removed Debbie's hand to check for any obvious injuries, not seeing any. "We better wrap up this investigation before anything else happens." She continued to hold onto Debbie’s hand as she glanced around the room.  "At least we can see now."

Debbie nodded. Despite feeling defeated, she still wanted to find out the source of the light she saw.

As Velma got up to investigate the interior of the room, Debbie decided to stay on the ground and look around the walls. She was expecting to find a cord, and then to follow that cord and find ... something. Something that was worth investigating. But as she went around the room she couldn't even find an electrical outlet.

"How can there be this much light without electricity?" She whined.

"With candles," Velma answered back. On the table across from the window were multiple burning candles. She picked one up to further examine it.

"Candles?" Debbie really wanted to cry. She stood up and trudged her way over to Velma, what was left of her previous excitement gone. She sighed and leaned against her. "What do candles tell us about the mystery?"

"A lot, actually." Velma gave Debbie a sympathetic pat on the back, then wrapped her arm around her waist in a more affectionate manner. "To start, it means that the person who lit them isn't paying any electric bills. These candles look recently lit, which would explain why we didn't see the light earlier in the day. They also look like the candles we saw at the general store-."

Debbie didn't really care about the mystery anymore. She instead closed her eyes and focused on the real reason she was here. She listened to Velma's voice, its blend of steadiness and joy, and how it didn't falter even in disappointing situations like this. She found it soothing, and let it relax her before opening her eyes again to see Velma looking at her.

She opened her mouth to try something, but Velma interjected before she could.

"We could interview the store owner tomorrow about any candles she's sold recently," she seemingly repeated. "Just the two of us. Sound good?"

Debbie blinked as she processed the question. "I, uh... yeah, it does."

"Groovy."

[odbuoyjemmity]

🌩️ , 🌤️ and 💧for the ask game :)

🌩️ Share something funny/cracky from your WIP.

from my fic currently called all going to die trying to figure it out (for femslash february

“Cadence,” she rubbed her eyes, looking down from her window onto the forecourt. “It’s three in the morning? Why-” She swore lightly, “I thought you would be asleep, honestly.” “Well… no. I value your advice.” “You fell asleep on your desk.” “How-” she touched her face and her hand came away with ink smudges. “Urgh.” “Also you’re still wearing your clothes from yesterday.” She looked down at her rumpled shirt and trousers, “Oh. Wait,” she frowned. “You still haven’t explained why you were throwing stones at my window at three in the morning. What if you had woken someone else up?”

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

also from all going to die trying to figure it out

“Eat something,” Cadence pushed the plate towards her. “Not hungry,” said Morrigan, not even looking up from her notebook. “It’s lunch, and you told me that you didn’t have breakfast,” she rolled her eyes. “I will mesmerise you, for the greater good.” “Greater good of what?” “Three square meals a day?” “I ate a banana this morning,” she said. “Was it this morning in the sense of like… two?” She didn’t make eye contact with her, “Perhaps.” “As in, yes. Your sleep schedule seriously scares me, Morrigan.”

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

from my fic which is currently called amici

When it started raining, and Jack ran over so they could go home together, he was grinning, his melancholy all but disappeared for the time being, “Can we come back soon?” “I’ll bring you back tomorrow if the weather’s not terrible,” he eyed the darkening sky suspiciously as children squealed and ducked for cover or were rounded up by their respective adults. “Come on, Jackie. Time to go home.” He took him by the shoulder and guided him to the street, where he hailed a cab to take them back to the Deucalion.

ask game

[darkpoisonouslove]

The Last Dawn

Summary: Marion has to stare her own death in the face and remain standing. She has to say goodbye to her heart all over again after she already lost one love. She’s struggling to find a way to fit infinity in one last night that’s all she gets when she was promised everything when she was born.

Femslash February Day 3 - Doomed by the narrative

A tough prompt for a one-shot but I am sitting here with tears falling down my face so I consider this a success at any rate. Be warned!

AO3 | FFN

Marion suppressed the shiver burrowing deeper in her bones. Not because of the guards standing at the entrance to the dungeons. They all shared the same unease with the situation hence why none were stationed at the cell itself despite the clear instructions from the Council and they all looked at the tips of their boots as she walked past them, heads bowed not in subservience but in a show of support.

It made the tremors in her limbs worse. If she let herself shudder at the touch of stiff, empty air around her–all the magic spilling from the Vortex of Flames was canceled out here–she’d crumble on the floor. Her guards would have to escort her back to her chambers and she’d lose her only chance to say goodbye.

Her eyes were glued to the tiny dot of fire that the torch at the end of the corridor was. She wanted to run towards it. She could hardly move, thinking of what she’d see in its light.

There was no other option. She forced one foot in front of the other, the sound of her steps echoing around her so loudly she was afraid it would crush the only other person occupying the space.

The corridor seemed darker by the time she reached the end of it. It was highly likely the torches were burning out. It’d taken her an eternity to get here and she couldn’t make herself look anywhere else but at the figure ambling about the cell.

The sound of her voice as she hummed a familiar melody–a lullaby from her home planet she’d sang to Marion when nightmares had burst into their bedchamber to disturb their only peace–almost knocked Marion into the metal bars behind her back. She hadn’t noticed it from the noise her own steps had made. She would’ve closed her eyes to listen better if she weren’t afraid she’d find herself in the grave she’d dug for Griffin.

For someone living out their last night the witch was entirely unperturbed. She sauntered slowly, leisurely through the cell, a lilt in her movements. She looked like she was trying to put a baby to sleep but her hands were in her own hair, running through it a brush that made Marion’s eyes bulge out. Something so simple yet so incredibly surreal in the grotesque world she’d been waking up to for weeks.

Griffin had never asked her for anything, aware of how any lenience Marion showed her would reflect on her image as queen. Somehow it was unfathomable that she’d asked one of the guards. It was offensive even that she would stoop to this but Marion had lost the right to be mad at her. No matter how the rage consumed her from inside and singed her bones.

The sight of Griffin’s gloves on her hands would normally quell the feeling at least a little. They never left their place outside the bedroom she and Griffin–had–shared most nights. If not for the bars and the heavy spells imbuing the air to suffocate any magic, she could think they were there now.

The trial had been agonizing in so many different ways, not the least of which watching Griffin stripped naked in the provided prison uniform, without the right to her personal belongings. The only justice had been the discomfort several Council members had exhibited at the sight of her bare hands but that hadn’t accomplished anything more. They’d still sentenced her to a gruesome death outlined in a scroll so ancient they couldn’t touch the original for fear of it crumbling. A digital copy–a bunch of ones and zeros–had decided the fate of her love.

Griffin’s golden gaze found her face and it was a burn like she was drowning in her own blood. The two eyes–her favorite sight in the world–were too reminiscent of the sun that would come in a few hours to set both their lives on fire.

Marion released a shaky breath. She had to reach out and brace herself on the wall, force her chest to expand in order to chase the blackness swallowing her vision.

Griffin waited for her to speak. A punishment or a courtesy? Knowing her, it was very well both.

Marion licked her lips, opened her mouth...

The words weren’t coming. What could she say that wouldn’t instantly kill her when the compressed magic inside her exploded? She had to find something. Griffin was dying for her. She owed her so much as her presence and all the love she could squeeze in those last few hours that would never be enough.

“Daphne wanted to come see you so I expect-”

“She did.”

Griffin’s voice was honey, so thick that Marion couldn’t move as it dripped down her throat and in her rib cage, so sweet that tears spilled down her cheeks for she was missing it already, drenched in it as she was.

It took her a minute to process the meaning of the words and she managed a nod.

“She brought me this,” Griffin held up a translucent yellow butterfly.

The symbol of Daphne’s nymphhood. An ethereal representation of every nymph’s transformation into a magical being that was more a vessel for the cosmical energies than a mortal human. It was the essence of a nymph’s magic – a spark that could not be snuffed out by any force, magical or otherwise. In Griffin’s hands it was the perfect tool of escape.

“I am...” Griffin bit her lip before forcing out a sigh, her shoulders sagging, “a really bad influence.”

She reached out between the bars, holding the butterfly with two fingers to minimize the chances of accidental touch when Marion took it from her.

Her first impulse was to grab Griffin’s wrist and press the butterfly in her palm, beg her to use it. Daphne had already thought through the consequences for the two of them. There would be those that would blame Griffin’s escape on their incompetence but most would fall into the pitfall of terror and prejudice – they would think Griffin a monster that had facilitated her own breakout.

Then she caught Griffin’s gaze. There was trepidation in it that hadn’t been there when she’d been read her sentence. Marion had assumed it was because Griffin had known her fate already. Everyone had from the moment they’d caught her with the black magic recently stolen from Light Rock during the incident that had destroyed half the structure and the surrounding pocket dimension.

Now she could tell there was something else underneath. Something that she likely didn’t want to hear but how could she deny Griffin anything?

She took the butterfly, pocketed it before looking back at Griffin and doing her best to swallow her heart back in its place.

Griffin stepped back, leaving room for the panic to choke Marion. If she was making space for her words, they would hit like a comet that would leave a gaping crater in her chest.

Marion surged forward and grabbed the bars separating them. The sturdy metal was the only thing keeping her from dropping on the floor like a shot bird. Her knees buckled and her vision started swimming. She couldn’t tell if she was breathing – there was only fire running up her throat.

Griffin’s fingers on her arms were the final touch. Her legs gave out and it was only Griffin’s support that softened her landing on the harsh, cold stone underneath.

Her chest was heaving, rocking her whole body. That had to be what made the ground look like it was coming up towards her face before sinking down so fast that her stomach jumped in her throat. Or maybe it was her head that was spinning in a way that made the shadows from the flickering torch writhe like monsters around her. No, it had to be the heart pounding in her ears-

Griffin took her face in her hands and pulled her closer, lips covering hers.

Marion whimpered, nails breaking against the metal bars as she clutched them harder. Griffin’s hot breath made blood rush to her lips, to her limbs and the rest of her body again. It hurt to come alive like this again, to tremble from the buzzing magic behind her breast bone. She never wanted to feel anything else again. Just the caress of Griffin’s tongue against hers, the taste of her breath–always herbs on it–oregano and thyme–that she’d learned to call home.

Her hands found Griffin’s neck, cupped it as gently as possible when all she wanted was to stay pressed up against the rhythmic beating of Griffin’s heart in her pulse point.

Marion broke away only to fire out, “You should tell the truth!”

She didn’t dare open her eyes. She forced herself to anyway because what she saw behind her eyelids was infinitely more terrifying than anything she could find on the face that she loved more than her own life.

She was wrong.

The tender smile on Griffin’s lips was the sharpest knife that had ever pierced her flesh.

“I did it all. For love,” Griffin confessed what the two of them knew to be the truth, what no one else would understand even if Marion screamed it out from her throne.

They didn’t want to understand.

They didn’t want to hear that it was all her fault. That she had the most powerful magic in the universe and she had still failed. That Griffin had stolen the vilest black magic to have her back, to save her people when that was Marion’s duty. She had done the unthinkable, had asked Griffin for help. She should have kept her mouth shut and taken her weakness to the mass grave Domino would have become.

Griffin would have survived. She was good at that when she wasn’t failing on purpose.

“I need something from you,” Griffin’s words came out jagged and painful to the ear, like they’d suffered the sharpness of her teeth into them.

“Please,” Marion sobbed between hiccups and strained breaths.

She would give everything, everything. How could Griffin ask about anything less? What about the rest? What was she supposed to do with it?

Griffin clasped Marion’s hand in hers, her fingers weaving playfully through Marion’s curls as if she was dauntlessly taming flames. “I need you,” she locked eyes with Marion, “to be the one to do it.”

Her breath stopped.

Her heart stopped.

She was dead.

She had to be.

She would be if not for the warmth oozing through Griffin’s gloves – a pull on her flesh and soul to keep her grounded. Once it used to calm her. Now it was a chain squeezing around her in a bid to crush her.

She lurched back but not far enough to force Griffin to let go of her. “No! No, I will not.”

Griffin patted the back of her hand in a gesture so placating, so incredibly negligent that it would never fit the entirety of their feelings even if they remained suspended in this moment forever. Then again, nothing would.

“If I am to die in fire-”

“No,” Marion shook her head, voice cresting with desperation, “no. No!”

“-let it be your fire.”

“This is... I can’t do this.” Marion’s fingers were dead cold between Griffin’s.

Maybe they would freeze here in the darkness of the burned out torches and she wouldn’t have to see the day that would take her beloved away. Maybe they would if the look in Griffin’s eyes weren’t so ardent, so full of life... It was too painful to let her forget that she was alive, that she was doomed to live.

It was too much.

“I love you,” she whimpered.

She choked on the salt of the tears flowing in her mouth.

“That’s why I’m asking you to do it,” Griffin squeezed her hand. “Marion-”

“No,” Marion pulled away, covered her ears with her palms like a petulant child.

Her heart hammered inside her chest as if her bones were crumbling walls that had to be demolished for everyone’s safety. They’d collapse anyway from the anticipation vibrating through her, the dread of not knowing which “I love you”, which time Griffin said her name was their last one... at least until it was too late. It was too much pressure committing them all to memory just so that she wouldn’t waste what little time they had left.

“Marion,” Griffin’s voice came muted as if from behind a wall of ice.

It was unbearable and her wings couldn’t spring out to take her–both of them–away. She had always been free with Griffin. This was sacrilege.

Soft fingertips pressed into her cheek. Bare fingertips.

She gasped, hands falling away from her ears and to the uncovered skin littered with burn scars. They were rough under the pads of her fingers but somehow so tender under her lips. She was always awed by Griffin’s vulnerability when she allowed her to kiss the wounds in her flesh that were Marion’s doing.

She had kissed them so often – first as an apology and later in worship. They had become a comfort instead of an accusation, instead of a crime scene staring her at the face and demanding shame if no justice would be served. She had let Griffin make them a reassurance to both of them.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Griffin ran her thumb over Marion’s lip, gloves discarded somewhere behind her back to join the hairbrush she’d tossed aside at the opportunity of physical proximity.

Marion had to close her eyes to savor the touch. She didn’t want to move a muscle in case it ended the moment but she had to give that answer lest she lost her mind.

“Of course.” She breathed out a sigh of relief when Griffin’s finger didn’t disappear. It was her greatest fear that she’d blink and Griffin would be gone – just a heap of ash.

She had been close to making it a reality the first time they’d met. Griffin had come to seek help after the devastating attack on Cloud Tower that had killed the headmistress had shaken her to the very core of her beliefs. Marion had fired without hesitation over a spell native to her planet–of all things–that Griffin had stolen from under her nose thus keeping it out of the Coven’s hands.

Later when they’d been begrudging allies, Griffin had bolstered her healing abilities only to keep the scars. It had been a reminder, a challenge to Marion’s conscience and memory until it hadn’t been. Until she’d found herself stroking the charred flesh fondly–with only the occasional pang of guilt in her heart that Griffin’s smile quickly erased–and Griffin had started wearing the gloves. The scars were too private now – a testament to the growth of their relationship, to the leap of faith they’d both taken. They were for their eyes only.

“I was wrong,” Griffin ran her finger over the burns, her expression wistful.

Marion sniffled. She shook her head, “No.”

“I was. You turned out to be my life instead.”

An inhuman sound tore through Marion’s throat – half growl, half whine. She lunged forward, face pressed against the bars and pulled Griffin into a kiss.

Griffin pushed closer into her, making sure Marion wouldn’t mangle herself in an attempt to squeeze through the unyielding metal of the bars.

Marion only broke away for a gulp of air before diving into another kiss. And it wouldn’t be the last one. She wasn’t ready yet to have lasts with Griffin.

She grabbed at Griffin and kissed her again and again until she couldn’t tell one kiss from the next. Her fingers wove into Griffin’s hair not in search of the moans falling from the witch’s lips on cue, but to keep them entangled. She could incinerate them right here, right now, and they’d never be separated. Or she could refuse to let go of Griffin’s lips when both their lungs started burning for air, let them drown in each other’s smell and taste, and desperation.

There were options to do this on her terms but Griffin’s voice reverberated insistently through her every fiber with something unspoken.

She fought to fill her lungs again when they finally parted. Her eyes searched Griffin’s greedily, drinking in the last of the light in her life. There was no telling how close dawn was outside but it was fast approaching and Marion was powerless against it, too.

Griffin grasped her hands and pulled them through the bars to hold to her chest. “I will never feel my magic again. Let me feel yours.”

Marion looked away but her gaze was magnetized – it returned on Griffin as soon as she was out of her sight.

“Let me feel you till the end. That’s all I can ask.” Griffin pressed kisses to her fingers, every next one more painful to resist.

Marion nodded, forced herself to give an answer, “I will.”

Griffin leaned in and Marion met her halfway, pressed their foreheads together. It was the first time her mind stopped screaming ever since Griffin had been arrested. It was Griffin’s serenity soaking into her.

“How are you not mad?” Her heart was still racing – a throbbing ache in the middle of her being. If she let it, it would turn into a black hole and swallow the sun so that only those graced by Griffin’s gaze would survive.

“Because I won.”

Marion held her breath. From so close she couldn’t see Griffin’s face in order to read anything from it, and she wasn’t pulling away.

“I always reviled the possibility of being executed for something I haven’t done, as a victim of people afraid of my power. But this now,” her voice was wet with tears and she squeezed Marion’s hands, “this is a blessing. I am dying for love.”

Marion shook with sobs but Griffin held her in place, didn’t let an inch of space separate them. “I have more to give you! So much more!”

“I know,” Griffin raised their hands up to Marion’s face and wiped away a tear with her thumb. “You are the one who has to live with it.”

Her voice had a firmness about it that Marion couldn’t absorb. She had to retreat before she’d shattered against it.

The butterfly in her pocket heated up as if to remind her of its presence, to etch itself into her being.

Daphne.

In Griffin’s proximity it was impossible to hide behind a facade; she didn’t want to. And now she’d forgotten how. If she were dead on the inside, Daphne would see and it would kill her too.

“I wish...”

She couldn’t say it. If they went back to their first meeting now, with all of their knowledge of the future, Griffin would tell her again that Marion would be her death. She’d probably smirk instead of glaring this time. And Marion would fall in love even more hopelessly than she already had, with how unafraid Griffin was of the spark between them despite the awareness that it would burn her to ash.

“What?” Griffin asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

Marion had no idea how she was keeping track but they were running out of time.

She shook her head. “Nothing. You are more than enough.”

[moonlightperseus]

𝓷𝔂𝓼𝓼𝓪𝓻𝓪 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵 𝓪𝓾

Sara is a fallen angel and Nyssa is a sorceress who found her when she fell and helped her recover from the fall

[lurking-umbra]

I finally did another Friday Night Fights fill! Featuring the femslash I didn't do much of in February. Prompt from @promptsforthestrugglingauthor

Anaya had been friends with Niamh for long enough to know that the girl had a bit of a competitive streak. It had only taken her so long to notice because neither Eirian nor Axel were even remotely competitive. However, in the gym class Anaya shared with Niamh, it was like she became an entirely different person. Or at least it had seemed that way until Anaya got to know Niamh better. Then she was able to pick up on the other girl's mean streak and the way she got a particular delight from ruining the days of those who made fun of Eirian or Axel. She even offered to ruin the lives of Anaya's former friends for what they had done. Anaya had refused, because she was trying to move on from the whole issue with Adrien and Eleni and be a better person than either of them had been to her, but the idea had certainly been tempting, especially when she knew that Niamh would back up her words with action. So yes, Anaya was well aware of Niamh's mean streak and competitiveness, but she wasn't exactly sure how they had wound up at this.

"This" had started the same way much of Niamh's competitions started: in gym class, as she seemed to effortlessly pick up whatever new sport they were doing that week. This week's sport was fencing, and as always, Niamh had picked it up appallingly easily. Anaya, on the other hand, was slowly but steadily improving her skills with each move and practice opponent she faced during class. It wasn't until the end of class that she was paired off to spar with Niamh.

“What do you say to a friendly sparring match? Winner buys the loser dinner,” Niamh asked, her bloodthirsty grin clear and obvious on her face for all who deigned to look close enough.

“I counter your sparring match with a straightforward offer to take you on a dinner date, you big nerd,” Anaya scoffed with a roll of her eyes, too tired and sore to even pretend to take Niamh seriously. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said, looking over at Niamh, whose cheeks were flushed a dark pink, her expression uncharacteristically blank, though her eyes were just as wide.

Before Anaya could even begin to take her words back or write them off as platonic, the bell rang, sending the class scurrying for the locker rooms, Anaya and Niamh caught up in their wake. An awkward silence lingered between them as they changed out of their gym uniforms, until the silence grew too much for Anaya to bear as they left the locker room.

"I didn't mean it!" She blurted, her tongue stumbling ahead of her as she did her best to read Niamh's still blank expression. "Or, okay, I meant it, but in a totally platonic way, I didn't mean to come on to you and make you feel uncomfortable. I mean, I do like girls, you know this, and you are very pretty, which you also know, but I totally meant dinner as friends and not dinner as a date so--"

"I didn't know you could say so many words at once," Niamh interrupted when it became clear that Anaya was incapable of stopping herself, a slow, satisfied grin stretching across her pink lips. She bit at her bottom lip for a moment, and if Anaya didn't know her better, she would have taken it as hesitation. But she did know better, knew that Niamh wasn't hesitating so much as considering her next choice of words.

"Were you ever this nervous with Adrien?"

Anaya could feel herself stiffen at Niamh's words, at the mention of her failed relationship. For Niamh to have brought it up in this context, when she rarely brought it up at all outside of vague threats to Anaya's former friends, that meant she had assumed --not incorrectly-- that Anaya's feelings for her were similar in nature. "I..." Anaya began and then trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I know I shouldn't have brought it up," Niamh continued, her cheeks flushing brightly, and Anaya mentally praised her dark skin for not showing the heat that had risen to her own face. "I just... if that's why you're nervous, your feelings wouldn't exactly be unreciprocated."

"Wait, what?" Anaya questioned, confusion furrowing her brow.

"I..." Niamh started, and this time it was truly hesitance that stilled her words. "I... I like you. Romantically."

Anaya wasn't sure how to respond to that. It wasn't like she hadn't realized that Niamh was pretty, although in a more traditional way than the girls that typically caught Anaya's eye. And maybe she had thought about going out with the other girl on a real date, without Eirian or Axel around to make it firmly platonic, but those had been just that, thoughts. She had never imagined that Niamh might be interested in her in the same way, and now that she did, Anaya wasn't sure what to do with that. Oh, logically, she knew that the answer was to say yes, but Anaya had already lost one set of friends after a failed relationship. She didn't want to end her friendship with Eirian and Axel if a relationship with Niamh didn't work out. She didn't want to end her friendship with Niamh either, didn't want to mess up and find herself friendless again.

"If you're not responding because I've totally misread the situation, you're also welcome to ignore what I said just now," Niamh added, when she became flustered by Anaya's lack of answer.

"You... you didn't misread the situation," Anaya clarified quickly. "I just... I already lost one set of friends because a relationship didn't work out."

Niamh blinked and then rolled her eyes, an easy grin making its way across her face. "Please do your best to remember that I'm not like those losers you used to call friends."

"Niamh!" Anaya scolded.

Niamh's grin widened and she bumped Anaya's shoulder with her own. "I'm not going to leave you hanging if it turns out we don't actually want to date. But I would love to at least try. Don't you want to?"

Anaya licked her suddenly dry lips. "I- I do."

"Good," Niamh replied, her grin becoming something softer that Anaya wasn't sure she had seen in the time she had known Niamh. She wasn't sure what it meant exactly, but it sent thrills of nerves up through her stomach like butterflies. She wanted to see more of this new smile, wanted to make Niamh smile like that more often. "We can figure out details during lunch, before we're both late for class."

Anaya jolted to attention at the mention of classes. She and Niamh shared a glance before they darted off in different directions, doing their best to beat the late bell.

[makomaragi]

Never Gonna Let You Down

Title has nothing to do with the fic, I don’t think. I have been meaning to write something like this for a long time, but never? Did? It’s meant to be a sequel to one Raven wrote bit ago to put it in to context! I wanted to write at least one thing for femslash february, but I don’t know if this even counts.

Fennel questions her sexuality after a brief encounter with her friend, is not sure how to properly go about doing so, or what any of it even means

Rating: T, maybe M. 

Pairing: Fennel/Aurea Juniper, Fennel/Colress,  

Sleep was rarely something that evaded Fennel, others often joking that she could fall asleep standing if she was comfortable enough.

But it was going on the second night that she simply stared off at the dark ceiling, or at the wall, anything to avoid the girl sleeping in the bed across from her own. Every once in a while she could hear her emitting a slight snore, or shifting in her sleep, breaking down the wall she had built in keeping her out of her thoughts.

It certainly started off innocently enough, attending a New Year’s party on campus together. Save the fact that she had told her parents one reason as to why she couldn’t return home for the holidays, and Aurea another as to why she was staying, it didn’t matter now.

The party itself was rather uneventful. She had practically dragged Aurea there, forbidding her to ring in the new year buried in her books as she was. Not that the party had stopped her from doing so, keeping to herself in a corner on the couch, nose in a book, only looking up when Fennel had called for her attention.

She spent a good chunk of the evening with Colress, socializing with others, generally doing what one does at parties, including partaking in the alcohol being served. She partly blamed her consumption of it to the events that followed, though, it couldn’t entirely be the reason.

She definitely kissed her best friend at midnight. And her best friend had definitely kissed her back.

That should have been the end of it, she told herself. A silly, drunken kiss with her friend, there was no shame in it. Or, there wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t been thinking about it the entire evening, before and after the action.

But, then it happened again. She couldn’t really explain why she chose to lie down in her room mate’s bed instead of her own when they returned to their dorm, besides the feeling of still wanting to be close to her. The closeness she had desired had somehow morphed in to another shared kiss, nor did she remember falling asleep that night.

It was a comfort thing, she told herself. She had always wanted her first kiss to be with someone special, someone she knew, and it had been. Maybe now she could finally find the courage to kiss her boyfriend, if that’s even what he was. Aurea had referred to him by that title several times, though neither of them had ever formally asked the other out or confessed any such feelings about it. Maybe she really did simply mean it as a friend that was a boy.

Avoiding Aurea was just the easiest thing to do until she figured out why she had done what she did, or better yet, any feelings she might have on it. There was the passing thought that she was putting entirely too much thought in to it, and it was just another silly drunk adventure she had, nor had Aurea given her any signs that she had been upset about what happened and eagerly participating.

Growing up in Kanto, she had heard vague whispers of men dating other men, or women dating other women. It was never anyone she nor her family knew personally, always a friend of a friend, or something controversial on television. Nor was she certain it was anything that people did in the real world or if it solely was a television plot device or simply rumors invented because the person in question wasn’t involved with someone of the opposite sex.

No, there was truly nothing different about her, Fennel told herself, staring off at the wall. She would grow up, find a man that she loved, get married, and raise a family together. Not today, probably not even this year, but someday.

What if that man was Colress? Surely she wasn’t going to be in a relationship with, let alone be able to marry her best friend – it just wasn’t something that was done, as far as she was aware. Why was she even considering the thought if there was no substance to it? She had already kissed Aurea, and now, she felt, she just needed to kiss Colress. What happened with Aurea was simply practice for the real thing, she repeated to herself.

Her thoughts that night would not deter from the feeling in her chest after kissing her. It felt right, somehow, but if it had been the ‘right’ feeling, why was she arguing with herself in it? She had seen girls kiss other girls plenty of times at the parties she had attended over the years, and surely there was no emotional turmoil attached to the act as she was putting on it, and, from what she gathered, it was usually to catch the attention of a boy. That hadn’t been her intent, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

No, these thoughts that were clouding her head was only a result of the alcohol, the situation, and the amount of time she spent with her friend. She was putting far too much thought in to what was only a friendly kiss with her best friend, at a very appropriate time to do so, in fact.

Spending time with Colress was something she enjoyed, but in a different way. They were both very interested in computers, mostly spending their time together taking them apart and rebuilding them, trying out various uses for the computer parts in machines they built. They talked while doing so, of course, though their conversation mostly consisted of what they were constructing and not at all in the same way she was able to speak to Aurea. She couldn’t actually remember if she ever had spoken to Colress about anything personal or if their conversations truly always were about the computer parts in front of them.

Though, she supposed, having a boyfriend would be different than a friendship, especially if she was eventually going to marry him.

At some point, she had heard Aurea get up. She could her hear shuffling around the room for a while, opening drawers, and then clicking what she assumed to be the bathroom door. After another minute, she heard the shower turn on. Hopefully Aurea was going somewhere – she didn’t have the excuse of having any finals to study for or even papers to write, though, she usually took it upon herself to find her own projects to keep her busy.

Fennel didn’t much want to remain lying there for much longer, but felt she didn’t have a choice, either.   She didn’t feel she was ready to face Aurea yet, and was better off just waiting for her to leave, if that was what she was going to do. If she was getting a shower, surely she was going somewhere?

Finally, she heard the dorm room door shut quietly. Aurea was probably going out for a walk, as she did most mornings.

Fennel pulled the covers only slightly below eye level to survey the room, in making sure Aurea was, indeed, gone, before she got out of bed.

She still didn’t entirely feel right, though it wasn’t the same feeling as being drunk, or even afterward. Now that Aurea was gone, maybe she could get some sleep. Taking a shower and eating the left overs she found in their mini fridge didn’t clear her thoughts the way she had hoped some self care would.

The world came back in to focus, and Fennel truly had no idea how long she had slept, nor did she remember lying back down.  She must of passed back out while she was debating on what to do.

The sun was going down, how long had she been sleeping?

Aurea was reclined in her own bed again, book in hand, Fennel’s slight movement probably catching her eye from the otherwise still room. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked suddenly, moving her book down away from her face and looking over at her.

For some reason, Fennel was alarmed by her voice. “Yeah. I drank a lot on New Year’s, maybe I’m still recovering.” She knew this not to be true, but Aurea didn’t drink enough to know how long it took anyone to recover from it, nor had she drank as much as Aurea probably thought she had.

Aurea laughed at bit at that. “ I, um…”  the brunette looked away from her, back to her book. “I don’t like parties, but that one wasn’t so bad.”

Fennel felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, feeling the heat rise to her face. Surely her friend did not mean it at all in the way she was interpreting it, always meaning things exactly as she said in the most literal sense of the word. Aurea had been happy reading her book in the back of a dark room full of drunk people, on New Year’s, and came to the conclusion that it had been more eventful than reading alone in the dorm. Fennel was certain this was the way Aurea meant it, and it would be the way Fennel would choose to take it.

She suddenly couldn’t be around her anymore.

“I’m going to go see Colress, I’ll see you later,” she pushed herself off the bed, realizing she had, at some point, changed out of her pajamas and in to a hoodie and a skirt. Where had she wanted to go earlier, besides away from here? She still wasn’t sure why exactly she was avoiding Aurea, besides that she herself felt some sort of way about what had happened, though Aurea had been very far removed from it. She obviously had not forgotten completely about it, given her comment, which left Fennel feeling more flustered than she already was.

She had only spoken to Colress for a moment the day before, him calling her to make sure she made it home okay on New Year’s, though she thought it was about something else that had happened that evening.

The only way, in her mind, to prove that these feelings she had were nothing, was to finally lose her virginity to a man. She had a boyfriend, so it wouldn’t be difficult. They had never spoken about sex, let alone kissed. Was he even her boyfriend, or a friend that happened to be a boy? Nor had she considered whether or not she was attracted to him, deciding that, her feelings for her boyfriend would always be different than whatever she felt for her best friend. It was normal, and fine, and she’d go over and have sex with him, and it would resolve everything she was fighting herself on now.

Rushing out the door, she fumbled for her phone in her hoodie pocket, searching for Colress’ number in a haste, thankful he picked up quickly. “Hey, are you busy?”

“No, I’m just in the dorm. You want to come over?”

“Yeah, if that’s alright?”

She was thankful Colress was alone in his dorm when she arrived, assuming his room mate was still at home from the holiday. He briefly looked up from where he sat on his bed over his laptop, giving her a wave when he heard her enter the room.

Without much of a greeting, she sat on the bed next to him, just as she had done with Aurea many times. So far, she supposed, it was uneventful. Colress looked a bit confused as to her sudden closeness, which caused her to suddenly peer over at his computer screen, pretending it was what she had wanted to do the whole time. He didn’t seem to mind, even turning the screen so she could see it better. She wasn’t sure she ever sat on the bed with him, let alone this close.

“What are you coding?” Fennel asked, at least trying to sound interested.

“Nothing in particular, I’m just messing around with some settings.” He hadn’t even met her glance, still typing and pausing to study his work so far.

What would she want to do if it were Aurea sitting next to her? Probably kiss her, which was definitely not the correct answer, or simply inch closer to her. Neither of those things were possible to do with him at the moment, with the laptop in the way, and it would seem out of context.

Nor did that seem like a good comparison, her boyfriend was supposed to be the one she wanted to do those things with, she figured. There was also the thought that there was nothing wrong with doing both of those with both of them.

At some point, Colress set his laptop aside, stretching out and seemingly contemplating what to make of the rest of the evening. “Are you hungry? I was thinking about heading down to the cafeteria before it closes.”

“Do you have anything to drink?” Fennel wasn’t sure why she was so abrupt to ask, but she needed to relax. Colress was a year or two older than she was, she thought, as he always had a way of procuring alcohol for them.

“Did you just want to come over here to drink?” he laughed a bit, though rose from where he sat and shuffled over to his desk, opening a drawer and removing several bottles.

She smiled and shrugged, reaching for one of the bottles as Colress passed her a plastic cup. While it wasn’t the sole purpose of her visit, it would take her edge off, she hoped.

Colress helped himself to a drink as well, even going over to the fridge to get them both some soda as a mixer. Fennel didn’t feel as though she needed that, but awkwardly helped herself to some anyway. If it tasted better, she could drink more of it, then she would finally have the confidence to go through with this.

No, this was something she should want to do. It was natural to be nervous, she was sure. But, she hadn’t been nervous when she kissed Aurea. Boys are different, she repeated to herself.

“Did you want to go grab some food, then?” Colress interrupted her thoughts, standing a bit awkwardly next to where she still sat on the bed. He was most likely only wanting to go get some snacks and return back to his computer, her being here made no difference in his evening one way or the other. Which, usually would be fine. Much of their time together was mostly spent working on projects together and not strictly being together, after all.

“Why don’t you sit back down with me?” Fennel ignored his question, patting the place in the bed where he had been.

“You’re acting really weird,” he met her eyes this time, though did not comply with her request.

Fennel couldn’t argue with that, nor did she actually know what she wanted to do. Maybe it would be best to just be ask him directly. It didn’t seem fair to him that she came here with this intention without making him aware.

But – what if he wanted to do something with her? What if he had been waiting for her to make the suggestion? Then where did that leave her?

“Colress…” she began awkwardly. He must of sensed some sort of urgency in her voice, his brows raising in concern as he took a seat next to her. It was in that moment that she truly had no idea what came next – should she just directly kiss him? They had never kissed before, and it might upset him. Should she ask first? She could not really remember the context of which she had kissed Aurea, but she was certain there had been some consent involved. Fennel truly did not know what the next step was.

Without much thought, she closed her eyes, leaning towards him, feeling him push her shoulders away abruptly.

“What are you doing?” Colress, pushed her off of him within half of a second, as quickly as she had begun and long before she had her balance, rolling over and jumping to his feet in a swift motion.

Fennel reeled back from the force, sitting back on her haunches, “I was going to kiss you.”

“Why would you do that?” Colress genuinely did look confused, though, she supposed, it fit his timid demeanor given the situation.

Fennel realized she didn’t really have an answer as to why, at least one that would make sense to him. “Do you want to have sex?” Fennel looked up at him from where she sat on the bed.

“What?!” he exclaimed. “Why would I want to do that?”

“What’s wrong with me? Am I not attractive to you?” Fennel countered quickly, in realizing nothing she was saying was making much sense to either of them.

Colress looked thoroughly confused, giving a solemn answer. “You’re not attracted to me.”

“Where did you ever get that idea?” she protested.

“Because,” he sighed. “You like girls, Fennel.”

“Where would you get that idea? Aren’t we together?”

“What?”

“I-I thought…” Fennel’s eyes darted to the floor at the realization. Now she was more confused than she was when she was in her dark room contemplating all of this.

Colress clearly had some sort of sympathy for her, if that’s what she could call it, if she truly was confused by the state of their relationship, though he did not know where she would of got that idea from. “You thought what?”

“I-I thought that, um, you were my boyfriend.”

“I thought you were gay.”

“No, I’m not!” Fennel spat out before the sentence was even completed.

“It’s okay if you are,” he continued, seemingly realizing what was going on. “Maybe you just like Aurea.”

“No, it’s different! She’s my best friend, she-”

“I saw you kissing her at the party,” he stated simply. There was not even a hint of anger, let alone jealousy to his tone, only a statement of the fact. “It’s okay, I’m not upset, if for some reason you thought I was.”

“It was midnight on New Year’s! And I-”

“I know you were drunk,” he finished for her. “But, I’ve figured for a while that you liked her that way. It’s really fine.”

“No it’s not!” Fennel started to feel the tears stinging her eyes, her throat suddenly feeling raspy from her sudden shouting. “I-I’m not like that, Colress!”

“You talk about her all the time. If she’s not with you, you’re worrying about what she’s doing. You even told me you lied to your parents so you could stay at the dorms with her because you knew she was staying.”

Fennel could feel her words getting caught in her throat again in her anguish and surprise, “I-I’m not-”

“It’s okay that you’re gay, Fennel,” he was smiling for some reason, besides that maybe he had been looking for an appropriate time and place to discuss this with her, finally seating himself next to her and patting her shoulder in comfort.

“I’m not, though!” Hearing him use that word in reference to her left her shaken to her core, realizing how badly her body and hands were shaking in defending herself. “I-I’m just comfortable with her. She’s my best friend. We take care of each other, I love her!”

“I know,” he smiled, Fennel not seeming to have realized what she had said in her frustrated state. “It’s okay,” he repeated in some attempt to reassure her.

If he didn’t find her attractive before, he definitely wasn’t going to now. Sitting on his bed, arms around herself, sobbing her eyes out, wiping her eyes causing her glasses to fall off the bridge of her nose.

“I might like having sex with a guy though. I can’t be gay if I want to have sex with a guy,” Fennel attempted to reason with more than likely only herself.

“That’s not how it works, Fennel,” Colress seemed to have a far better grasp on her thoughts than she did. “Well, you’re going to have to find another guy, because it’s not going to be me,” he sat next to her again, patting her shoulder in some weak attempt to comfort her. “I think you’ll regret it, but I can’t stop you, if you think that will...help you figure yourself out.”

She sniffled for a moment, harshly wiping her eyes once again. Where did he ever get this idea about her? How dare he assume these things about her? “You thought I was…gay? The whole time you knew me?” Fennel met his look, her cheeks still stinging from her tears.

“I thought Aurea was your girlfriend for a while, actually,” he shrugged.

Fennel couldn’t help but laugh slightly at his conclusion. “I don’t think Aurea has any feelings about anything, let alone anyone,” quickly realizing what she was saying wasn’t entirely true, given what Aurea herself had said to her before she left, throwing her in to this entire disaster.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Colress reached back around to grab the bottle set on the floor behind them, Fennel grabbing it from him and taking a long swig. Who was he to make such an assumption about her? She supposed that she had known him for a while now, meeting him the year after she had met Aurea after he transferred to Castelia University from some community college out in Icirrus.

“I-I’m not gay, Colress,” she felt the need to reiterate. “I do like Aurea, but it’s...it’s different with her. She’s my best friend. Besides, I don’t even know how two girls could...do that.”

Colress’ brows raised at how she had phrased it, confused as to why Fennel’s thoughts seemed to only be on sex. He had known enough about her that she grew up rather sheltered, the most normal family life one could have in Kanto. Her coming to Unova for college truly was her first life experience outside of Kanto without her family. He wasn’t sure if she even had any friends from back home that she kept in touch with besides her parents.

If it was the case, it was the first time she was outside of the bubble of her hometown, leaving her to have her own thoughts and feelings without any influence from her parents, or what he assumed to be conservative hometown views. He felt a pang of guilt in uprooting her entire sense of being if that were the case, but maybe it would save her years of turmoil if it were the case. There was also the possibility that he was being presumptuous, only having her and Aurea’s interactions to gauge by, but it also felt like enough from his point of view. He could very well be wrong about the entire thing, though, from Fennel’s response, it certainly struck a cord with her.

Fennel thought about asking to stay at his dorm for the night, but did not think he would have her. Nor would it make any sense. She definitely didn’t want to go back to her own dorm, where the source of her problems was, and probably still remained in place, reading her book without a care in the world.

“I’m going to go, then,” she took a final swig of her drink, shaking her head at how the alcohol burned the back of her throat. She wasn’t anywhere close to drunk, but felt more on edge than she had before she drank.

To his credit, Colress looked concerned at her departure announcement, but not surprised.  “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed, realizing it were true. She wasn’t ready to go back to her dorm, but didn’t feel she had much of a choice, either.

“Let me walk you back,” he offered.

“I’m fine. I’m not drunk,” she countered.

He interpreted her decline as a bit of disdain. Despite that neither of them were attracted to the other, he still cared for her, and hope she did the same. “Let me know when you get home, then,” he offered simply, seemingly not wanting to intrude in whatever plans Fennel had for the rest of her evening, as that didn’t seem to include him anymore. “I’m here if you need to talk, alright?”

Fennel could not bring herself to look at him as she left, letting the door slam behind her, certain that the noise would of disturbed anyone close by that had been trying to sleep. Had it been that late? No, nine in the evening was much too early for anyone to be sleeping around here, she figured.

Leaving the warmth of the dorm reminded her just how chilly it was outside, the wind hitting the bare skin on her legs as briskly as she walked, to, where, exactly?

So, Colress didn’t want to fuck her, fine. She supposed the conversation insinuated a mutual lack of disinterest as it were, leaving her to pursue someone who would. Maybe it wouldn’t be today, but, she decided, having sex with a man would put any qualms she had with her sexuality to rest.

Going back to her own dorm seemed like a terrible idea, and Aurea was the last person she wanted to see right now. Where else was she to go? She had a handful of other friends she could reach out to, though quickly realized that she didn’t think any of them were back on campus yet.

It wasn’t as late out as she thought it was, realizing she actually hadn’t been with Colress all that long, even if it felt that way. She was certain he probably never wanted to speak to her again, even if, she supposed, he was coming from a place of concern.

Her feet seemed to take her to a few streets over from campus, not paying attention at all to where she was going. Maybe one of the restaurants would still be open, she could sit by herself, drink some tea until morning at some hole in the wall diner that remained opened all night.

She could hear the music and see the other people gathered in a yard from a distance. Parties raging through the holiday break weren’t unusual, but she felt she had had her holiday party adventure for the time being. However, the thought of having another drink or two would relax her in the least of it, and maybe she’d find some of her friends there. Being away from the two people she was closest with until she gathered her thoughts on her own would perhaps give her some clarity.

The music was loud, the room was dark, and people were everywhere, somehow making her feel less alone. In the moment, the possibilities of her evening seemed endless. She could drink, she could dance, she could chat with some random people. Aurea and Colress might feel out of place in a room full of strangers, but Fennel felt rather at home. No one here knew her, that she could tell, the anonymity feeling like a protection from any intrusive thoughts she might have.

Making her way through the crowded room, her eye caught a small bar area in the dark corner. The girl behind the bar asked her what she wanted, Fennel’s only answer was a shrug. She never did much know what drinks were called or even what she liked, just accepting what was given to her. Her parents would surely be disappointed if they knew this had been how she was spending her time in college, much less why she was drinking tonight to begin with.

The girl made her some sort of concoction, placing some fruit in it as a finishing touch. Whatever it was, it was very sweet, though the after taste left a lingering burning sensation after the fact. This will do the trick, she thought to herself.

She leaned against the wall for a moment, sipping her drink and catching her breath slightly, before a figure approached her.

“Hello,” he greeted her simply. She couldn’t make out his features well in the dark, the flashing colorful lights giving her a glimpse of him every few seconds. He was much taller than her, as many men her age were, with short, dark hair, which was about as descriptive as the light allowed.

“Hi,” she replied awkwardly, taking a small sip from her drink.

“Are you having a good time?” the man asked, keeping his respectful distance from her, nor could she hear him all that well with the music in the background, having to lean in closer to each other when they spoke.

“I’m fine. I’m just...thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” This time when he leaned in, she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“It’s complicated,” Fennel turned away from him. She had come to escape her thoughts, not discuss them.

“Do you want to go somewhere quieter and talk about it?”

Maybe having someone she didn’t know weigh in on her problem was the answer she needed. He didn’t know Aurea or Colress, as far as she knew, nor was she sure if she had seen him around on campus before.

Without much of a thought as to what she was doing, she took his hand, allowing him to guide her up the stairs, away from the party, in to another room. Did he live here, or was this just convenient?

The door had barely shut behind them when he unmistakably went to kiss her, Fennel instinctively turning her neck, though he hadn’t seemed deterred by this at all, kissing her neck instead, pulling on it with his teeth slightly, realizing that he was guiding her over to the bed. Her legs felt weak, giving out when the back of her knees hit the mattress. He was still kissing and sucking on her neck, seeming to be respectful of her not wanting to kiss him on the lips, nor was she sure when she agreed to what he was currently doing.

He had stopped kissing her neck, though hovered over her, now realizing she was lying on the bed. It wasn’t how she had imagined having sex for the first time would go, but, she supposed, that was what she had wanted this evening. She had heard of people, even her friends, hooking up at parties. Why hadn’t she thought of this first? It was much easier than the uncomfortable conversation she had had with Colress.

The purpose of his pause was to remove his shirt, leaning his weight back against her on the bed. Fennel sat up enough to remove her hoodie, his hands immediately finding her breasts, grabbing them over her bra with more force than she would of liked. She wanted to swat his hands away, and just get this over with if they were going to have sex, though he seemed all too happy and eager to go along with the foreplay.

She closed her eyes, deciding that if he wanted to fuck her, he could. She made no effort to remove any more of his clothes, let alone hers, realizing she just wanted it over with.

“You good?” he heard him ask her, leaning back, Fennel thankful that she had room to breathe and that he had stopped touching her.

Surely this was not how she was supposed to feel? No, she had always imagined that the first time she had sex would be with someone she loved. What was she doing here? Why was she letting this happen? To prove, what exactly, to herself? Even going this far with Colress would not have carried any emotion to it and she supposed she’d be in the same place she was now. At least she knew Colress’ name, though. She didn’t even remember this man’s name, if he had told her at all. Nor did she think she had told him hers.

Fennel opened her eyes wide, forcing herself up right. “I-I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” she sputtered out, jumping up from the bed, grabbing her hoodie from the side of it, throwing it on as she made her way out of the room. It was too loud to know or even hear if he had called to her, not caring if he had.

Trying to make her way through the party, making her way back out on to the street, she realized she had no idea where she was. How far had she walked earlier? What direction was campus? Any sort of drunk she was had disappeared, the flashbacks of what had almost happened sobering her up quicker than any amount of sleep would have.

Sitting on the curb, she saw she had several missed calls from Aurea.

She could lie, say she spent the night at Colress’ dorm. It would save her from the embarrassment she found herself in now. Nothing had even happened and she felt terrible. But why did she care what Aurea thought?

She returned the call without thinking much of what she was going to say, her hands still shaking, feeling her heart beating out of her chest. The feeling dissipated at the sound of her friend’s voice, just a simple “Hello?”

“Can you come get me?”

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Fennel looked around the dark street, trying to find some familiar sign, something to guide her back. She could see the lights from campus not terribly far off in the distance, and probably could make her way back over without issue. The rest of where she was seemed to blend in with the rest of the city, or campus, even. Maybe she was not as far away as thought she was even if it felt that way.

“Send me your location from your phone. I’ll come to you.”

“Aurea, you don’t need to do that, I can-” truly, why hadn’t she thought of that? She could simply use the GPS on her phone to find her way home. Somehow, if she hadn’t even thought of that, what made her think to trust herself to follow through with the directions? No, it really was best that Aurea met her here.

Fumbling with her phone even in her shaken state, she was able to send her coordinates to Aurea, somehow.

She wasn’t much dressed appropriately for how cold it was out. What if Aurea never made it to her? What if she got lost, too? No, no Aurea was much better at reading maps than she was.

Fennel had sobered up considerably in the cold, rubbing her head in some vague attempt to prevent the headache she knew would be coming. She probably looked rather silly, sitting outside on the curb outside of the party raging in the house behind her. People continued to come and go, no one appearing to pay her any mind.

The foot steps she heard from not all that far away did not alarm her in any way at first, seeming in time to the others she had ignored all evening. She looked up this time, seeing a familiar shadow even in the dim street lights. “Aurie,” she couldn’t stop herself from racing up to her, stumbling a bit as she took to her feet, wrapping her arms around her, unable to vocalize her gratitude and relying only on her actions for now.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Aurea took her arm, though realized quickly that Fennel was not as impaired on her feet as she originally thought. She didn’t seem bothered at all, probably enjoying the walk in the brisk air despite being in her pajamas.

“I’m so sorry, Aurea,” Fennel looked away from her, though tightly grasped on to her arm as they walked, moving her hand down to hold tightly on to her friend’s.

“What are you sorry for?”

This was how she knew she called the right person. Aurea passed no judgment on her, did not even ask how or why she had ended up seemingly across town, probably assuming her to be much more intoxicated than she was.

They didn’t speak much on their short walk back to the dorm. At one point Fennel had wanted to comment on how cold both of them probably were, though she hadn’t felt cold at all. In fact, it was the warmest she had felt all evening so far.

----------------------

“Do you need anything?” Aurea had taken her place back in bed, pulling her laptop back on to her lap, pulling the covers over herself, completely unnerved by anything that had happened that evening. In fact, Fennel assumed, it was probably exactly what she had been doing since she had first departed to see Colress.

“I just want to go to sleep,” though she wasn’t tired at all, it was true. She just wanted to lay down.

Fennel changed in to her pajamas, looking at her bed, then back to where Aurea sat on hers. All she wanted was to cuddle up with her again, to feel safe and warm. Without thinking much of what she was doing, she sat on the edge of the bed, close to where her friend lie.

“Do you want to get under the covers?” her roommate asked without looking up, only inching over on the bed.

Maybe she was reacting too quickly, all but throwing herself in to the bed with her, joining her under the blankets.

Fennel wasn’t sure how long she lie there, though it didn’t feel like long, when she felt her friend shift over her on the bed, settling her laptop back in it’s place against the side of her bed, and lying on her side properly. Fennel turned to face her, wrapping an arm around her, burying her face in to her shoulder. She felt Aurea bring an arm up around her, letting out a peaceful sigh.

She definitely couldn’t picture herself doing this with Colress, or the strange man from the party, or any anyone else at all, really. She could feel her friend’s breath close to her ear, a steady rhythm that would lull her to sleep eventually if she could focus on it. She felt happy, content, safe, and relaxed.

There would be plenty of time to figure out any qualms she had with deciding her feelings on who she did or didn’t want to be intimate with. But, she knew for a fact, in the moment, she felt what she imagined to be how she would feel at some point in her life with whoever she did decide to be with.

--------------------------------

“And, that’s when I realized I was gay, I guess,” Fennel shrugged, pressing her phone against her shoulder with her jaw, setting the pan in the oven and setting the timer.

“Eh, labels don’t mean shit,” Elesa matched her tone. “I mean, who cares if you’re gay, or straight, or bisexual, or anything inbetween.”

“I wish I had always felt that way about it,” Fennel mused, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I mean, I always always fine with other people that were gay. Growing up it was never something we talked about, I wasn’t even sure if it was a real thing for a long time.”

“And now you’re getting married.”

“I know, it feels so surreal,” Fennel glanced down at the ring on her finger, it only having been there for a few days by then. She had shown her friend a photo of it the night she had received it, but still would of liked to of shown it to her in person. Nor was Elesa one that cared about such things, though.

“Colress is in prison somewhere, and you’re getting married to the first girl you ever kissed. Strange events.”

“Good thing I didn’t end up with him, I guess,” she laughed. “Never in a million years would I imagine nerdy Colress getting mixed up with criminals. But, I also never in a million years thought I’d be getting married to my best friend, either.”

“It’s so cliché when people say that. Don’t say that ever again,” the gym leader groaned.

“It’s true, though,” Fennel smiled. “Maybe you’ll get to marry your best friend one day, too.”

“I’m not sure it’s for me, but I’m happy for you, really. I know you wanted to for a long time.”

Any other thoughts Fennel had on the matter were interrupted by the front door opening, hearing Aurea sigh loudly and begin kicking her shoes off. “Anyway, I’m going to go. Aurea just got home. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Without much greeting, Fennel approached her, the other woman leaning down and kissing her. “Hm, who were you talking to?”

“Elesa called, we’ve been playing phone tag for a few days. I ended up talking to her for...a long time, about silly stuff.”

“I’m glad you were able to reach her, then,” the professor hung her overcoat in the closest, setting her bag down and collapsing on the couch. “I’m really tired. How bad would it be if I just went to bed?”

“You can, but I made us dinner while I was on the phone. It’ll be done in a little bit,” Fennel joined her on the couch, pulling the blanket off of the back of it and draping it over them, feeling Aurea wrap an arm around her as she leaned against her.

“I’m just going to take a nap, then. Wake me up when it’s done, okay, babe?” the professor brought her legs up to lay down on the couch properly, resting her head on Fennel’s chest.

They weren’t in bed, but the feeling was the same. The same warm feeling she had when she laid with Aurea all those years ago in college, and all the times in between, that left her feeling safe and secure. Fennel brought a hand up to run through her hair, pieces of her tight bun that had become undone in the course of the day, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She was certain that the timer was going to go off sooner than either of them wanted it to, but for now, they would both enjoy the quiet security of simply resting together.

[mako-and-tails-and-stuff]

Femslash February: Mako Mermaids

Days 1 -3 because I only just started on this today. I think I’m going to post this up on Ao3 and FFN as well.��

If anyone wants to adopt any of these little extracts and expand on them - feel free, just tag me in it/credit this post 😊

Day One - Red 

Pairing: Rita/Veridia

152 words

Rating: G

Veridia never had a favourite colour. It wasn’t a concept Mermaids really had. Why should one colour be put above others? That said she liked the silver of the Moon and the cool turquoise of the Sea in the lagoon. She saw those same colours now, echoed around the room in the choice of wallpaper, the curtains, the grey rug with silver speckled through it. 

And there was red. Red hearts on a white mug, red candle on the unit beside the bed, a stick of red lip balm, Rita’s red dress draped over the chair, the red stone of Rita’s pendant, the red of Rita’s hair glinting in the sun as the Mermaid sat on the edge of the bed braiding her hair back. 

It was possible, if she had to choose one colour to call her favourite, she might opt for red. It was a nice colour. Especially on Rita. 

Day Two - Pride

Pairing: Weilan/Ondina

299 words

Rating: G

“Good day?” Weilan slung her arm over Ondina’s shoulder. Ondina’s insanely curly hair was a wild mess, sprinkled in glitter of every colour of the rainbow. The rainbow flag painted onto Ondina’s cheek was smudged, partly due to Weilan. She’d kissed Ondina’s cheek and ended with rainbow paint across her lips. 

“The best!” Ondina’s cheeks were flushed and eyes sparkling brighter than any ocean under the biggest, brightest of Moons. They’d travelled back down to the Gold Coast for a visit and when their visit happened to coincide with the Gold Coast’ Pride Festival, Weilan had begged Ondina to go. It hadn’t taken much convincing, Ondina had been pretty game for it once Weilan explained what it was. 

Weilan had never been to an actual Pride Parade before and she had been missing out. Mermaids may not care too much about lesbian relationships but an amount of land people do, and she grew up in China. Shanghai was never allowed a proper parade. So actually experiencing one - it made her cry. She wasn’t afraid to admit it. 

It was that pure feeling of acceptance and there was nothing better than sharing it with the Mermaid she loved. 

They’d left the party behind, Weilan had to really beg Ondina to go to one of the bars, just for a little bit, and now they walked along the beach, shoes in hand. Weilan had worn her platform doc martens and regretted it while Ondina was strangely sensible and wore flats. 

The sunset was bleeding out into the night, a sky of purple, pink and gold, mirrored in the blue sea. Weilan took Ondina’s hand and dragged her down to the sea’s edge, stopping to put her boots back on before taking to the water. A perfect end to a perfect day. 

 Day Three - Buttercup

Pairing: Rita/Veridia

291 words

Rating: G

Veridia did not like cats. She tolerated them because Rita loved them and because instead of just simply shutting Poseidon out of the room when Veridia was there, she turned an entire room into the cat’s room. Complete with cat trees, a cardboard ‘fort’ more beds than any one cat could ever need and an actual crystal water fountain. 

It was because Rita happened to love those annoying creatures so much that Veridia found herself agreeing to letting keep this newest cat. Mimmi had found her on her way home from work, a little kitten, starving and abandoned. Rita had taken to the creature straight away, getting her cleaned up and sending Mimmi out to the store to get some kitten milk. 

When Mimmi first unearthed the little bundle she’d been a mucky greyish colour but after a warm bath and being gently dried with one of the good towels that no one was allowed to use, the kitten’s coat was a mix of white, grey and fawn patches. Even Veridia had to admit the kitten was cute. What was even cuter was Rita curled up into her, sleeping with her head against Veridia’s shoulder and the little kitten held against her to keep the poor thing warm. 

They’d had the kitten for a few days with the cat gaining strength every day when Rita announced that the cat needed a name as she was now part of the family. Veridia had rolled her eyes and threw out the first name she figured would suit a cat - Buttercup.

“I think it suits her. Buttercup it is. And since you named her, she can be your cat,” Rita teased.

Buttercup chose that moment to give a little meow.

“See, even Buttercup agrees.”

[questionablygourmet]

2, 4, and 7 for the fic writing meme, please!

2) Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

I have an inordinate affection for soulmate AUs.  It’s the kind of contrivance I never really expected to like, but I have read several in this fandom that I really enjoyed, and it’s something that’s at least semi on my bucket list for someday.  I hope I can eventually figure out a good way to put my own spin on it.

4) How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Other than Let’s Try Another Kind of Peace, my ongoing Hannigram post-fall fic, which I am still actively working on... let’s see.  I’ve got a specific Marlana piece that I’d meant to write for Femslash February (words were being hard) and still definitely plan to write, as I certainly don’t need an event as an excuse.  There’s two other Hannigram fic ideas I had - one was going to be my piece for a ‘zine that has since been cancelled, and the other was an idea for that ‘zine that I had to set aside because there was no way it was writable within the length limitation.  Both of those ideas are distant-future things, given the ‘zine’s cancellation and the fact that I already have a WIP going.

The idea for the Marlana piece is the most straightforward.  That’s meant to be a smutty kink negotiation and exploration one-shot, and I have promised smutbrain it can take the reins for a bit after the current chapter of LTAKOP is in the hands of my beta.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“That’s convenient.”

“Yes.  Most things about my former life were arranged to be very convenient.” 

Will lets out a huff of air through his nose.  It’s not quite a laugh, but he finds that he’s amused when he remembers how carefully laid-out Hannibal’s life had once been.  “Only most things?”

“One could argue that many of the art forms I enjoy are inherently inconvenient.  They are certainly laborious and time-consuming, yet I find them entirely rewarding.”  

“Nothing convenient about threading tree roots through someone’s veins and arranging flowers in his chest cavity, that’s for sure,” Will observes dryly.  He isn’t certain why, of all Ripper scenes, that one comes to mind now - he hadn’t even seen those pictures except in context of the building where Jack had found Miriam Lass.

“No.  But it was very beautiful, Will.”  Hannibal glances over to him, dark eyes subtly wistful.  “I wish that you could have seen that one in person, where it was meant to be seen.”  

That’s from Best of Cruel Intentions, which is definitely my favorite Hannibal piece I’ve done so far.  (It’s a missing scene piece from the car ride near the end of TWOTL.)  The dialogue for it just kind of hit me all at once and demanded to be written, and I’m still very pleased with the result because I not-at-all humbly think I nailed it.  I also just tend to have all-around good feelings about writing that actually came easily, for once, because that’s a rarity.

(It kind of kills me that that’s ALSO one of the things I’ve written that’s least readable without detailed knowledge of the source material.  Can’t exactly tell someone who’s not in the fandom, “Here’s this 3k fic I’m really proud of, but to understand why I’m proud of it you’ll need to go watch 39 episodes of television.”  XD)

[takaraphoenix]

Femslash February: Day 14

For @kunfyouzed - happy Valentine’s Day, babe 💚 💜

Fandom: DC Comics / Arrowverse

Main Pairing: Harley/Ivy

Prompt: Love

--

"Sometimes, being in a relationship with Harley is... so hard", sighed Pamela.

She heavily sank into her chair. The woman opposite her huffed before lifting her drink to her blue-painted lips. Pamela narrowed her eyes at the woman known as Lin Frost. According to herself, she used to share a body with her own now-girlfriend before some big bad had killed the multiverse and the archer in the green, tacky hood had restarted the multiverse. Pamela... questioned essentially every single part of that story. Sure, meta-humans existed – she was one herself, controlling plants, and Lin Frost was also a meta-human. But there was a difference between 'meta-humans exist' and 'also there is an infinite number of alternate Earths and they all collapsed so a non-superpowered hero had to restart the universe like some god'. Very doubtful. Still, Pamela had learned her lesson and stopped arguing about that one with Lin; it was a lost cause. And she did have some experience with letting people believe their own delusions, so why not indulge the ice-controlling villain.

Their relationship was already strained enough as it was. Mostly fueled by their opposing powers – ice and plants did not exactly go hand in hand. When there was too much alcohol or arguing involved (though too much alcohol usually did lead to too much arguing), they tended to try and one-up each other and it occasionally escalated when they used their powers. Still, in a strange way, Pamela considered her one of her best friends. Not that she would ever admit that to Killer Frost.

Then again, one could argue that Pamela's circle of friends in general was a bit unorthodox. Ever since Nyssa al Ghul had retired – after completely wrecking her father's legacy, much to every villain's amusement – and moved to Gotham, the two had had a couple run-ins, usually at the new, very trendy gay bar and they had bonded rather quickly. And then there was the owner of the bar. Kate Kane, who always made this constipated, pained face when looking at their small gathering of reformed villainesses, but she had never said anything aloud so they figured they were fine. With Kate, Pamela actually got along, genuinely. Which had surprised them both.

While Killer Frost lived in Central City, where she was performing the whole reformed part of 'reformed vilainess', she often traveled to indulge in the less legal activities that she couldn't quite kick and she had found a particular liking in Gotham, especially after the first couple of times she ran into Pamela, Nyssa and Harley. It seemed that Frost mostly was surrounded by heterosexuals and men in Central City – her own bisexual girlfriend excluded – so the woman appreciated to have a circle of gay women to sit with and talk to; them all being former more or less villains was a wonderful addition. Sometimes, Harley joked that they could start a club of sorts – be gay and do crimes. Frost had jokingly suggested she knew a little bird who was a reformed villain in a committed relationship with a heroine and that they could invite her along too. Admittedly, Pamela wasn't that surprised that there were so many queer female villains; not when she looked at all their fashion choices, really. Still, it was strangely... reassuring to have this little community with them.

"You always say that", pointed Kate out as she brought them their drinks.

"At least yours doesn't want you to be a total goodie-two-shoes", drawled Frost annoyed.

"And yours didn't come with a small toddler", added Nyssa, heaving a tired sigh. "I do quite adore Mia, she will be a brilliant and fierce warrior once I get to start training her, yet... admittedly, I did not expect my next relationship to involve changing my former husband's baby's diapers."

"Something tells me you didn't predict to date your husband's wife either", noted Kate.

"That... is true", admitted Nyssa after a pause, blinking a couple of times.

Kate huffed amused and sat down with them then; someone else was manning the bar so she seemed to have a bit of time to spend with her favorite customers and close friends. Frost lifted her glass to hit lightly against Nyssa's, the both of them exchanging an amused smile.

"All three of you are dating goodie-two-shoes and while I admit to that having challenges of their own, at least they're all grounded", muttered Pamela and took a deep, long drink. "The things Harley comes up with sometimes. It's... hard keeping up with her..."

The mood turned a bit more solemn at that. It was true. Frost was dating Caitlin Snow, a scientist who fought alongside the Flash and was very hard-working, honest and down-to-Earth. Nyssa was dating Felicity Smoak, a genius hacker whose only real concerns right now was raising her infant daughter, playing house with her girlfriend Nyssa, none of that hero-business anymore (though she used to be married to the Green Arrow and was involved with that superhero team). The only normal one in their midst was Kate, who owned her bar and dated her ordinary, sweet little journalist Kara Danvers, cute nerd with glasses for whom Pamela and the girls usually pretended to be just normal, regular customers since the blonde was from out of town.

Harley was different. She had suffered severe trauma and abuse at the hands of her ex and it had messed her up pretty badly. While there were highs so high that Pamela could get dizzy, there was also pretty deep lows. She loved Harley, fiercely so, and she would never break up with Harley because of this, but sometimes, it was just so straining for Pamela. Sometimes, when she saw the aftermath of what that man had done to Harley, all Pamela wanted to do was break down and cry, but she couldn't because if she fell into pieces, how could she pick up the pieces that were left of Harley and try to piece them back together? So she had to be strong. Just, sometimes, she needed a night out with her girls, who would listen to her, who understood – maybe not every detail or every way it made Pamela feel, but they still understood. And it helped.

Frost reached out to tap against Pamela's glass, a sheet of ice covering it and the drink turning pleasantly chill. While Frost wasn't the best with expressing emotions and Pamela didn't want anyone to tell her that 'it sucked' or that 'it's all going to be fine', they had their own way of communicating and of comforting each other. Nyssa and Kate offered her gentle looks.

"All my favorite girls at one table! Perfect. I need y'all for a jail-break."

Startled, the four women turned toward where all of a sudden Harley stood. She had a manic grin on her face and a newspaper in her hand that she slapped soundly onto the table before getting comfortable on Pamela's lap. She turned enough to press a kiss against Pamela's cheek, one that was sure to leave a stain. It made Pamela smile thinly, because sometimes, that was what it felt like. As though Harley was leaving lipstick-stains all over Pamela's heart and soul.

"What is it, babe?", whispered Pamela softly, resting her chin on Harley's shoulder.

"So there's a circus in town that has hyenas but doesn't treat them right. Help me liberate them."

Pamela blinked slowly as she stared at her girlfriend. This was going to be... a long night.

~*~ The End ~*~

[organabanana]

Four things Esti kept secret, and one she couldn’t | Ronit/Esti

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Disobedience (2017) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Underage Relationships: Ronit Krushka/Esti Kuperman, Ronit Krushka & Esti Kuperman Characters: Ronit Krushka, Esti Kuperman Additional Tags: Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Pre-Canon, baby gays doing baby gay things Series: Part 3 of Femslash February 2020 Summary:

Just like it says in the tin: five little snippets of Esti and Ronit's relationship before Ronit left.

[ao3 link]

"What do you think?"

Ronit walked out of the bathroom stall and stuck her hands in the pockets of her trousers.

Her trousers.

Where had Ronit even found a pair of trousers, anyway? Esti looked around as if she was expecting one of their parents to suddenly pop up from behind a column and start screaming at them.

"Esti," Ronit said in that tone she used that sometimes felt like a very heavy blanket had been draped over Esti to make her feel calm and safe, "nobody knows us here."

And Esti knew Ronit was right, of course. They were far away from home, in one of their Underground Adventures (Ronit's idea, always) where they moved from one line to the next at random until they felt free. Until they could breathe.

"So?" Ronit tried again, and this time she turned around so Esti could take a proper look. "What do you think?"

The trousers were a bit big for Ronit. They were baggy and a little long even if she'd rolled them up at the ankles to keep them from dragging on the floor. They didn't fit right at all. And yet...

"They suit you," Esti finally declared, voice thoughtful and head tilted as she considered the picture in front of her, "even if they're not quite your size."

Ronit beamed at her best friend, clearly delighted with her assessment, and Esti wondered if maybe Ronit hadn't been asking just about the trousers after all.

"Dovid gave them to me. Well- he doesn't know I'm wearing them, of course, he thinks I've donated them." Ronit looked moderately guilty for the lie, but after a second of silent consideration she shrugged it off. "I suppose in a way I have donated them. Just... to myself."

Esti let out a quiet chuckle, even if she shook her head out of some kind of need to let it be known she didn't exactly approve of this whole thing. And yet...

"Let me see again," she heard herself say, cheeks tingling with what she knew was the beginning of a blush, "stick your hands in your pockets like before."

Because there had been something about that pose. And when Ronit smirked and stood like before, slouching slightly like taking off her heavy long skirt had relaxed every muscle in her body, Esti couldn't look away.

Suddenly the trousers looked like they'd been made for Ronit. Or maybe Ronit had been made for trousers instead. Ronit had always been beautiful, but now she was... was she handsome? Esti licked her lips, unable to find a word to pin to the feeling warming her up from the inside out.

"Do you really like them?"

Esti nodded, even if the more she looked, the more she realized she didn't like the trousers after all. She liked how they looked on Ronit. Not because they fit perfectly, like the ones Dovid or Aaron or any other boy wore day in and day out. She liked that they didn't fit quite right, because Ronit wasn't Dovid or Aaron or any other boy. She was Ronit, and she was a girl.

That was what she liked.

But Esti never said that out loud.

***

"Look what I've found."

They were sitting on Esti's bed, even if they should've been asleep already. Their parents didn't mind sleepovers. Esti knew they loved that she was so close with the Rav's daughter. Of course, her parents didn't know Ronit's sleeping bag had never been used, because the girls much preferred to share Esti's bed. Esti didn't know exactly why they'd have a problem with that, really - there was nothing inappropriate about two girl friends sharing a bed - but something told her they would very much oppose it if they knew.

There was something that felt a bit like danger lurking right under the surface every time Esti climbed into bed next to Ronit and felt her best friend's warm body beside her.

And that same sense of danger - or maybe it was excitement? - tingled up her spine as she looked at the object Ronit was currently showing her.

Esti knew what it was. A CD player, small and round, with its earphones dangling on the end of a long black wire. She'd seen plenty of them during their Underground Adventures, but she'd never used one.

Obviously. Why would she? Music like that was forbidden, after all.

"You've found it?" Esti asked with a hint of doubt in her voice. The same doubt showing in the way she cocked one of her eyebrows. "Really?"

Ronit shrugged. "Does it matter?"

Esti supposed it didn't. It was forbidden either way.

And maybe that's why she hesitated before reaching for it and placing a single fingertip on its smooth metallic surface. She was almost surprised when no lightning came from above to smite her right then and there.

"Has it got a CD inside?"

Ronit nodded, white teeth catching her bottom lip as if she was struggling to contain an excited grin. And truth be told, she likely was doing just that.

When she held one of the earphones out for her to take, Esti shook her head. It was one thing to see it and allow it to be in her room. But to actually use it...

"What are you afraid of?"

Ronit's question was simple enough, and yet Esti found herself unable to find a decent answer. What was she afraid of?

She didn't know. So she figured there was no reason for her to say no, after all.

"Ready?" Ronit could barely hide her excitement once they were each wearing one headphone and she pressed play.

It was a slow melody. Unsurprisingly, Esti didn't know it at all. But after a few seconds, she decided she liked it. It was nice. Warm, somehow. It made her want to...

"Dance with me," Ronit said, jolting Esti out of her thoughts like that lightning that didn't strike when she broke the rules earlier. By the time Esti fully processed what her best friend had just said, Ronit was already on her feet, one hand extended towards Esti as she kicked her sleeping bag out of the way.

"I don't know how to dance, Ronit. You don't know how to dance."

"I've seen people dance,"  Ronit said, holding Esti's hand and tugging lightly until she was also on her feet, "we can figure it out."

It was very hard to argue with Ronit Krushka when she had made up her mind about something. And clearly, she'd made up her mind about this.

"I'll be the man," she said, and Esti could've sworn Ronit's voice sounded a little lower than normal, "so you just have to follow my lead. Okay?"

Esti nodded, feeling a little like she'd lost all her words somewhere between the moment when she stood up and the second she felt Ronit's hand pressing against the small of her back.

"A bit closer," Ronit's voice was barely above a whisper, so quiet Esti was surprised she could hear it over the beating of her heart. She let Ronit's hand guide her closer and closer, until there was only a sliver of hair between their bodies. And then, even though Ronit didn't tell her to, she took another step forward.

She could feel the warmth of Ronit's skin even through their nightshirts.

"Ready?" Another whisper, and Esti nodded once again. Ronit led them as they swayed slowly to the beat of whatever song they were listening to. Esti didn't care. All she cared about was Ronit, and her warmth, and how solid she felt against her. How her breathing seemed to be a bit shallower than normal, and what it felt like when Ronit's blunt fingernails gently scratched against her back.

They'd been dancing for three and a half songs when she felt Ronit's hand move in a different way. Softly, almost hesitantly. Ronit never hesitated, but she did right then, for just a second, before her fingertip slowly traced a heart on the small of Esti's back.

She never told Ronit she'd noticed what she'd drawn.

***

Ronit was leaning against their tree, eyes closed as the sun hit her face and made her look like something out of a painting. It was early Spring, still chilly enough outside for both of them to be wearing coats over their sensible dresses. Lighter coats, though. Not quite the heavy affairs from mid-winter that made Esti feel like she was lugging an entire bed spread around.

Esti loved that early Spring sunshine in an almost protective sort of way. It felt so fragile and small, never quite strong enough to actually warm you up properly, but still there. Bright in a very different way from the warm sunlight from later on in the year.

"I thought you wanted to go over your notes before the test," Ronit said without opening her eyes, voice a little lazy like it always was in their early morning walks to school. She'd never been a morning person, but she still woke up a half hour earlier than she had to just to walk with Esti. Esti thought about that quite a lot.

"I did. I do. I have them right here," Esti waved the cards in the air, as if that would somehow make the many History facts written on them fall off and enter her brain.

"And yet you're staring at me like a little creep."

Esti felt her cheeks flush. She'd been caught, hadn't she? She just didn't know how, when Ronit's eyes had been closed the whole time. Still, there was really no need to call her a creep.

"You're so unpleasant in the morning. I should stop talking to you before lunch time."

"You could never. You'd miss me far too much."

Deep down, Esti knew Ronit was right. Just the thought of going a day without seeing Ronit was enough to make something twist uncomfortably in her chest, to the point where she simply refused to even entertain the idea at all. It'd never happen, anyway. She wouldn't allow it.

"I'm sorry I called you a little creep," Ronit said after a few moments in silence, and when Esti looked at her she saw her friend's eyes were no longer closed, "I didn't sleep well last night."

Esti no longer cared about her exam, or the facts in the cards. All she cared about was the hint of something very close to sadness she swore she saw in Ronit's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing, I swear!" Ronit reached for Esti's hand and gave it a squeeze, as if that would make Esti believe her. "I was just up thinking until late, that's all."

Ronit didn't let go of her hand, and Esti didn't pull away. Instead, she found herself taking a slow step forward, as if Ronit in that early Spring light was a star she couldn't help but gravitate towards.

They'd had this conversation before, with some very minor variations. Ronit would say she'd been worried or preoccupied or thinking about something, and Esti would read the rest right there in hazel eyes. Because it was obvious, wasn't it, the thing that was keeping Ronit up at night. The very same thing that wouldn't let Esti look her mother in the eye after spending time with Ronit, even if nothing happened. And nothing ever happened. They made sure of that by never discussing it out loud.

Esti and Ronit could have entire conversations in complete silence. They'd speak in class and at Temple and right in front of their parents without saying a word. Who needed those? It was all right there in looks and slight brushes of hands and even in the empty spaces between the words they did say.

And that was enough. That was safe. Like a wall of bulletproof glass between and around them.

"What were you thinking about?"

Esti's voice was so quiet it may as well have been a whisper, and yet she could've sworn the sound of that safety glass shattering was loud enough to be heard all the way back in her house.

And Ronit heard it, too. Her eyes rounded and she straightened her back, no longer leaning against their tree.

"What?"

"Last night, when you couldn't sleep," Esti let the pad of her thumb brush over Ronit's knuckles, "what were you thinking about?"

Ronit looked down at their hands for a moment before she met Esti's eyes again.

"You."

Esti felt the air in her lungs disappear as if her heart needed the extra room in her chest. It wasn't beating. Not quite. It was throwing itself against her rib cage like it needed to be set free.

And maybe it did.

Ronit was waiting for an answer. A comment, a reaction, something. And Esti had so many things she could say to free up even more space for her heart.

She could've said she thought of Ronit at night, too, and the way she felt kept her up for hours past her bedtime.

She could've said the reason she couldn't look her mother in the eye were the things she wished would happen, even if they never do.

Never did.

Because Esti didn't say any of those things out loud. Instead, she held on to Ronit's hand a little tighter and leaned in until her lips brushed against her best friend's.

The only reason Esti was sure it wasn't all a dream was that in her dreams, it was always Ronit kissing her. But once that first step was taken, who did what and in what order seemed to stop mattering altogether.

Esti had never kissed anyone before, and she didn't need to to know Ronit was the only person she ever wanted to kiss. Ronit's hands were the only ones she wanted in her hair, Ronit's body was the only one she wanted to feel pressed against her own, and Ronit's teeth were the only ones she wanted nipping at her bottom lip.

She decided, right then and there, that she didn't ever want to have another first kiss.

She just never said it out loud.

***

They hadn't even bothered pulling Ronit's sleeping bag out of its case.

It would have felt silly at that point.

And Esti knew they had been right. The Rav, the scriptures, her parents, the well-meaning elders who sometimes handed out free advice for young women just like Esti. They had all been right, because now Esti knew it was true: the first sin was the hardest.

After that - once that line had been crossed - nothing ever felt the same. What had seemed unthinkable was suddenly not quite that big a deal after all. A mountain became a step. And the scariest part of it all was Esti wasn't sure where it had all started.

What had been that first sin? The one that started the snowball effect that had landed her on her back in her bed, nightshirt up around her waist and a hand pressed over her mouth to keep herself quiet while Ronit moved between her thighs?

She didn't know.

She didn't care.

What she felt for Ronit was wrong, but true. Ending up right there in that moment, feeling Ronit's fingers inside her while Ronit's taste still lingered on her lips and tongue felt inevitable. Of course they'd end up like that, as together as two people could possibly be. There had never really been any other options. Not really.

Ronit's fingers hooked inside her, and Esti's back arched off the mattress, the quietest hint of a whine just barely making it past the hand against her mouth.

"Shhh," Ronit whispered, muffling a giggle against Esti's inner thigh, "you'll get us caught."

"Don't stop."

"Never."

And Esti let her eyes flutter closed, as hearing that was a relief and not just further proof that she was going to keep sinning. Over and over again. Straying further and further away from what was right.

But Esti didn't care.

Not when Ronit's mouth joined her fingers between Esti's thighs and Esti felt the first waves of pleasure crashing against her. Not when her fingers fisted in Ronit's hair to keep her right there as Esti struggled to keep herself quiet and her lungs breathing through it all. Not when she was absolutely sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that that was Heaven, right there.

And as long as she had that, she didn't need the one everyone else kept talking about.

But she never would've dared say that out loud.

***

Ronit looked pale as a ghost, hazel eyes wide in a panicked look Esti had never seen in her life. Her cheeks were flushed from the effort of running from her own house to Esti's, her chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch her breath.

Esti was so shocked she couldn't even ask what was happening. All she could do was stare.

"They know."

"What? Who?"

"They know, Esti."

She took a step back, one of her hands feeling around for something to hold on to just to give her a sense of reality after the world had been knocked off-center. Her fingers gripped the edge of a nearby table as if it was the only thing keeping her feet on the floor.

Ronit was still talking. About someone seeing them and telling the Rav. About her parents being at Ronit’s house right then, and the three of them talking about how to fix it. Fix them. She talked about running away. About savings, and cameras that could be sold. About plane tickets.

"Together?"

Esti heard the word as if it'd come from someone else instead of out of her own lips. It was small, just like Esti felt. A little desperate. A lot scared.

"Of course," Ronit looked like the mere question was unthinkable, like there had never been any other option, "always."

Esti felt herself nod.

"Hey," Ronit said, stepping close enough to hold Esti's hand in her own, and then close enough to press a lingering kiss to her temple. She didn't say anything, but it was all right there in her eyes for Esti to see when she pulled back. They'd never really needed many words.

The silence stretched for a few moments, just enough for all those unspoken things to wrap around Esti's heart and get it beating properly once again.

"Pack a bag," Ronit finally said, taking a step back and popping the bubble she'd created around them just seconds before, "we'll meet at our tree in fifteen minutes."

"Okay," she felt like she was slowly regaining control of herself. Like she could think again, finally. Like she could wrap her head around what was happening.

They weren't a secret anymore. And they were running away.

Together.

"Okay," she repeated, a little more solid this time. They were going to be okay. And Ronit nodded, because she didn't need Esti to say it out loud to know exactly what she meant.

But as she watched Ronit walk towards the door, Esti suddenly felt like they'd left enough things unsaid.

Some things just had to be said out loud.

"Ronit," she called out, and the look in Ronit's eyes made her feel like she'd never been more right in her life, "I love you."

Out loud.

Ronit nodded just once, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She was too scared for anything more, Esti knew.

"Fifteen minutes," Ronit finally said right before she left, and Esti knew she meant she loved her, too.

And after tonight, they wouldn't have to keep anything secret anymore.

[moocowmoocow]

Femslash February 08 - Make Up

Naomi x Drummer

The first time Naomi saw Camina without her eye make up, it shocked her. She was still Drummer but she seemed a bit younger, a bit lighter. She reminded herself that it wasn’t just the make up that made the transformation. It only happened when she was alone with her at the very end of the day. In fact, the removal of her make up seemed to demarcate the public from the private.

One morning, Naomi watched from their shared bunk as Camina lined her eyes in preparation for a day of commanding the Behemoth. “Why do you wear it like that?”

“You no like?”

“I like. Just curious.”

Camina moved her face closer to the mirror to fill in the lines. “When I first joined the OPA, everyone treated me like a kid. I really was one I can see now, but back then I thought I was completely grown up. I figured this make me look older.”

“Did it work?”

“No. Had several people offer to teach me how to do my makeup. Each time someone did that, I put even more eyeliner on.”

“What did work?”

“Got older. Looted my first ship.” She finished and put the liner away. “Killed my first Inner.”

Naomi looked away for a brief moment and got out of the bunk to wrap her arms around Camina’s waist. “Well, I think your younger self made a good choice.”

Camina turned to face Naomi. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Naomi said and kissed her.

[pearwaldorf]

5, 8, 37!

Share one of your strengths.

People tell me I do good dialogue and character interaction, so that, I guess?

Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

From the ineffable idiots are sad about the crucifixion fic:

"So what happened?"

"I did my job. I let him rest his head in my lap, and I stroked his hair until I felt him regain a measure of composure and solace. And then I lied through my fucking teeth."

"Oh, Aziraphale." Crowley squeezes his hand.

Aziraphale takes another drink. "For what it's worth, I think he believed me. I do not know if that is a mercy or a cruelty."

Crowley looks at him. "Did it feel like the right thing to do at the time?"

He thinks for a moment. "It did."

"There's your answer."

Crowley tugs the pitcher from Aziraphale's grasp and takes a long gulp. When she sets it down Aziraphale is staring.

"What?"

"You say that like it should be patently obvious what the moral course of action should be."

"Is 'be kind' not an obvious moral course of action?" It's a genuine question. Obviously preaching such was not the only thing that made the Romans decide the poor boy should hang from a cross, but it probably contributed.

"Surely it can't be that simple." Aziraphale looks like he's turning something over in his head, having some sort of realization that he never noticed before.

Superficially, it amuses me when Aziraphale curses. I’d also like to think this is dialogue that carries the conversation forward, character-wise and story-wise. It’s not Hills Like White Elephants, nor would I want it to be, but I think it’s pretty all right.

Talk about your current wips.

Oh god I am deep in the weeds with my Good Omens romcom AU, which you can read a little about here. I am trying to figure out if I can get something done for Femslash February (in which case there might be a Rose/Jannah fic), or wrap up one of the many, many free-floating one-shots that are like 75% done but I have not had the brain to do anything with. 

[eleonorebirk]

Femslash February Week 4: Sharing a bed

Sophie/Beatrix

Sophie opened her eyes to the darkness of the dormitory, not sure what had woken her. She listened carefully. It was unlikely to be a prank by the knights, not so soon after their communal prank to shake Beatrix out of it.

Then she heard it again, a sniffling sound and the rustling of the covers from the direction of Beatrix’ bed. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness by now, so Sophie didn’t waste time getting her flashlight out of her bedside table. She slipped out of her bed and quietly padded over to Beatrix’. “Bea.”

It was too dark to make out her face properly but she could see the way she’d frozen, the way she was holding herself stiffly now.

Sophie knelled down beside the bed. She gently touched Beatrix’ hand. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“I’m fine,” Beatrix pressed out. “Go back to bed.”

“No. Move over!”

“What?”

“Move over. I’m joining you.” Sophie waited for her to comply, then slipped in beside her. She lay down on her side, facing Beatrix, and took her hand.

The silence spread between them until Beatrix asked: “Why are you here?”

“You’re my friend and I’m worried about you.” She felt Beatrix’ hand twitch in hers. “I am your friend. Nothing’s going to change that.”

“Not even my acting like an idiot?”

“Not even that.” Sophie shifted closer, wrapping her arm around Beatrix. She started running her hand through Beatrix’ blond curls. “So you needed some help to snap out of it, big deal. Nothing has changed between us.”

Beatrix returned the hug, hands fisted in Sophie’s shirt. “I thought -” She broke off.

And suddenly Sophie understood. The four of them had never discussed in detail how their relationship was supposed to work, they had never set ground rules. It had been Beatrix and her, and Ottokar and Stephan. Then, additionally, Beatrix and Stephan, and Ottokar and her. They hadn’t seen the need to define it more closely. It might have been unusual but it had been an exclusive relationship between the four of them.

And then Stephan had started seeing Anke. Though she had no idea if that was platonic or if he was interested in her. No matter, Ottokar could deal with that part. For now, she would concentrate on her girlfriend. “I love you.” They didn’t often feel the need to say it out loud, not when they could just show it, but she figured Beatrix would appreciate hearing it. “Anke doesn’t change that. What happened the past few weeks doesn’t change that. I love you. I want to be with you.” There would be time later, to properly define their relationship and set ground rules, to analyse where they’d made mistakes, to discuss the future of this arrangement between the four of them. For now, all that mattered was Beatrix.

[sailorportia]

White Day

Fandom: Little Witch Academia Pairings: Diana Cavendish x Akko Kagari, Hannah England x Barbara Parker x Amanda O’Neill

Femslash February 2019 [Index post] Day 14: White

approx. 2,000 words, rated T

also available on AO3

In which various girls give or receive gifts for White Day.

For perhaps the first time since she was a child, Diana had bitten off more than she could chew. After Akko had introduced the concept of White Day to Luna Nova, the student body had informally adopted the tradition. This year would be the inaugural celebration of the holiday. Diana had anticipated it might be difficult for her, but she hadn't realized the sheer volume of work ahead of her.

On previous Valentine's Days, Diana had received chocolate from her numerous fans and admirers, and this year was no different. However, this year she was faced with the challenge of listing every classmate who gave her chocolate (a novella, to be sure) and make a gift in return. She had been wise enough to start the process a week early, but even then the task was growing to be too much for her—she hadn't taken into account how many others would want to use the kitchens.

It was now past curfew and Diana could see that she wouldn't finish all the gifts in time for the morning of White Day. She needed more time. She needed…

"Need any help?"

Akko skip over to Diana and the growing mess of chocolate surrounding her.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Diana asked.

Akko pouted. "I could ask you the same thing! You've been working your butt off all week! What's that about?"

Diana scowled, then quickly corrected her expression. "It's your fault we're celebrating this holiday in the first place. My obligation to return all those gifts is on you." Perhaps that wasn't fair, but Diana was testy at the moment.

"Don't be a sourpuss," Akko said. "I meant why are you doing all this work alone? You could've asked me to help, you know! I've made tons of chocolate for people before. Figured you would've picked that up after receiving the chocolate I made you a month ago…"

Diana stopped listening halfway through. "You've given chocolate to lots of people?"

"Yup!" Akko grinned. "I always gave my friends giri-choco! I got really good at making it too! And that's why you should let me help you! Even Amanda wasn't too proud not to ask for my help!"

On one hand, Diana was reluctant to ask for help, particularly for something like this. On the other hand, if Akko helped, she might get some sleep tonight…

"Very well," Diana said. "The recipe is over there." She pointed toward a cookbook.

There was a second cookbook open next to it. Akko took a peek. "Ooh? What's this?"

Diana snatched it away from her. "That is none of your concern. It's a… separate project. Please follow the recipe in the book in front of you and package the chocolates as so." She pointed to the pile of completed gifts.

Akko gave her a salute and the two of them got to work. The usually clumsy witch didn't require any assistance, and in fact she was more efficient than Diana. Experience certainly paid off. Diana was glad to have Akko helping. For more reasons than one. In her giddiness, she even indulged herself by subtly brushing up against Akko under the guise of not having enough workspace.

Soon, much sooner than she would've anticipated, the task was completed. Well, there was one more part left…

"I can't thank you enough, Akko," Diana said.

"Letting me eat the leftovers would be enough," Akko replied.

Diana chuckled. "I think the 'leftovers' are all over your face." Akko had been "sampling" the chocolate as she made it.

"You ought to be off to bed, Akko. I'll be along shortly. There's one more thing I have to do."

"What? I can't leave you hanging!" Akko protested. She would've continued, had Diana not interrupted her.

"None of that, Akko. Thanks to you, I'll have a few hours of sleep tonight. Besides, my remaining task does not require your experience as a chocolatier."

"Okay then, but don't come crying to me in the morning when you're all tired!"

Akko grumbled to herself as she left the kitchen and returned to her room. She had been more than happy to help Diana, and she was a little bummed out that Diana was apparently hiding something from her. If she had put two and two together, she would've realized she had nothing to worry about…

On the morning of White Day, Diana arrived to class with a veritable hoard of chocolate to redistribute to other students. She looked sleep-deprived, but she didn't let that interfere with her task. In fact she was so busy, she didn't even have time for her friends.

"Jealous?" Sucy said with a cackle.

"Jealous? Why would I be jealous?" Akko stabbed at her lunch with murderous intent.

"I'd be jealous too if my crush was running around giving other people chocolate," Sucy teased. "Maybe she forgot all about the chocolate you gave her."

Lotte frowned at Sucy's remark. "I doubt she forgot about it. It was a life-sized chocolate Shiny Rod."

"The only chocolate she would forget is yours," Akko retorted. Everyone wanted to forget the chocolates Sucy made. Who puts actual truffle mushrooms in chocolate truffles?

"Why wouldn't someone like Sucy's chocolates?" Lotte asked. "They were delicious."

"Well of course she wouldn't poison her own girlfriend…"

"I added extra love to yours," Sucy told Lotte, then immediately hid her blush behind her hair. Lotte blushed as well but made no effort to hide it.

"Ugh, go flirt somewhere else." Akko wasn't bitter. Nope, not at all. Not bitter like the delectable dark chocolate she'd helped Diana make and hadn't received her share of yet. Nope, not bitter at all.

Even after classes, Diana was still hunting people down to give them chocolate. Hannah and Barbara sympathetically patted a forlorn Akko on the back before going off to their room. They rolled their eyes as they entered the room and saw the lovingly packaged gift atop the desk on the far side of the room.

"The least she could do was give Akko her gift first," Hannah said as she sat down on her bed. "The poor girl's going to think she's being left out."

"Maybe Diana's saving the best for last," Barbara reasoned, taking a seat on her own bed. "Though if I were in Akko's shoes, I'd be feeling down too."

An unpleasant vibe passed between the two girls. They actually were in Akko's shoes. Well, the object of their dismay had already distributed return gifts to her fans, and they had no reason they were in for a knockout of a present like Akko was. They hadn't expected much of a return from their intended when they gave her chocolate on Valentine's Day. It was more of a shot in the dark. It would've been nice if their affections had been returned…

There was a knock at the door.

"That must be Diana, back for Akko's present," Hannah said, getting up from the bed to answer the door. No doubt Diana's hands were full and she couldn't open the door herself.

"Or maybe it's Akko," Barbara said. "Maybe she's come to give Diana a piece of her mind."

They were both wrong. When Hannah opened the door, the girl on the other side was none other than Amanda O'Neill.

"Uh, hey losers."

"Amanda!?" Hannah and Barbara squeaked in unison. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, uh, y'know." Amanda shuffled nervously. She might've twiddled her thumbs if her hands weren't hidden behind her back. "Stuff."

"Well, are you here to see Diana, or one of us?" Hannah asked.

"I'm here to see… both of you…"

"Both of us?" Barbara asked. "Why?" Could it be…?

Amanda brought her hands out from behind her back. Each held a box with pink wrapping paper.

Hannah's eyes widened. "Is that—"

"D-don't get the wrong idea." Amanda shoved one box into Hannah's hands and tossed the other to Barbara. "It's only because of Akko and her stupid holiday…"

Barbara had already opened her gift. "Are these homemade chocolates? Gosh. Ours were from a store. A good one, mind you. But still…"

"That's—" Amanda blushed. "I didn't want to waste wild amounts of money on your gifts, that's why."

"So instead you lovingly crafted your own gifts for us," Hannah remarked. She held up one of the chocolates. "And look, they're shaped like little hearts. I didn't know you were so romantic, Amanda."

"Th-that was Akko's idea!" Amanda blurted out. It was no such thing. "I j-just went along with it."

"I see," Barbara said, smirking. "Good thing we didn't get the wrong idea. We might've thought you liked us back."

"What!? Me!? Of course not! Why would I like you…" Amanda paused, her brain processing what she'd just heard. "What do you mean like you back?"

"By the nines, you're clueless," Hannah said, smiling and rolling her eyes at her crush. She quickly shut the door and practically floated over to Barbara's bed.

"What a shame," Barbara said. "If only you liked us the way we like you." She touched one of Amanda's chocolate hearts to her lips. "Goodness knows what might've happened if you did…"

Hannah mimicked Barbara's action with another chocolate heart, leaning against her soul mate as she did. "I guess we'll have to make do on our own."

Even Amanda wasn't clueless enough to grasp the implications of what they were saying. "Hey, not so fast. I never said I didn't like you…"

"Then get over here," Hannah purred.

"Let's see if you taste as good as your chocolate," Barbara said.

The three of them proceeded to discover some very creative things to do with chocolate, one of which left Diana scandalized when she walked in on them on her way to retrieve Akko's gift.

Diana's face was still flushed when she tracked down Akko alone in her room.

"Diana, why are you blushing?"

She shivered. "I witnessed something not meant for mortal eyes."

"Oh, okay then." Akko wondered if Diana was blushing because of a gift she'd given someone. Not that I care, Akko thought. Who cares what stupid Diana does? Stupid Akko did, of course.

"I…" Diana fidgeted. She bit her lip and appeared to be mulling over what she was about to say.

Her behaviour caught Akko's ever elusive attention. Since when is Diana Cavendish nervous? Did I do something wrong. Oh crap, did I mess up the chocolate last night or something!?

"I…" Diana began again and stopped. She muttered something under her breath and continued. "As you know, White Day is when one gives a gift in return for a gift received one month prior on Valentines Day."

"Right." Akko didn't understand why Diana was being so formal, or why she was explaining White Day to a Japanese person.

"Well…" Diana cleared her throat. "You gave me a gift on Valentines Day, and so I am making good on my obligation to give you a gift in return. Not that I see it as an obligation!" she added hurriedly.

"Yay!" Akko could barely contain her joy. "You didn't forget me after all!"

"Of course I didn't forget!" Diana looked aghast at the implication. "After you went up to bed, I made your present. I wanted it to be special..." She handed Akko her gift and watched the recipient tear into the wrapping paper.

"It's a strawberry-rhubarb pie," Diana said redundantly when it was revealed. "I was certain a gift of chocolate couldn't measure up to what you'd given me, so I chose another route. Additionally, today is Pi Day…"

Akko practically vibrated. "I love pie!" She placed it carefully on her bed and leapt at Diana for a hug. "Oh my god, I'm so happy I could kiss you!"

Diana froze momentarily, then melted as she put her arms around Akko. She whispered into her ear, "I believe that would be an acceptable course of action under the circumstances."

Akko giggled. "In that case, the pie can wait!"

[quarterfromcanon]

Habits

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 25 - Pet Name [3,599 words]

“Wanna get high and help me name my starfish?”

Valencia lifted her eyebrows. The sight of Heather on the doorstep toting an aquarium and a backpack full of recreational materials was not what she’d expected to find outside her apartment that night. However, after the recent decrease in communication between them, the surprise was far from unwelcome. “Hello to you, too.” She stepped aside to allow her friend to pass.

Heather carefully set her new sea creature atop the kitchen counter, under the cabinets. She gauged the distance from there to the living room and nodded to herself. “She’ll be safe here,” Heather elucidated upon noticing Valencia’s quizzical response.

“I should preface by saying I don’t smoke pot. Or anything else, for that matter.” Valencia returned to the couch. She turned off the TV and tossed aside several throw pillows to make room for a second occupant.

Her unexpected guest took the vacant spot and put her book bag on the floor. “I can teach you,” Heather volunteered as she withdrew the supplies from their hiding places.

Valencia glanced at her stack of rented DVDs beside an empty takeout box. Meanwhile, Heather rummaged through unseen contents and grumbled about the stash slipping all the way to the bottom. Valencia watched her for a moment - hair falling over her cheek, biceps still bearing indents from the heavy fish tank, a faint trace of spilled water across her shirt - and reached a conclusion. She rearranged the clutter on her coffee table. “All right. I wasn’t really doing anything tonight anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Heather remarked dryly. She produced a purple lighter, papers, cardboard, glue, and the sought-after Ziploc bag. “Before we get started, do you have cucumbers?”

Valencia blanched. “One, I think. Why?”

“It’s good for the dry mouth effect,” Heather explained. “That and water. But we need to prep ahead of time because you do not wanna be wielding a sharp knife when you’re on this stuff.”

“Got it. I’ll take care of those and you can finish setting up here.” Valencia departed for the kitchen, feeling strangely observed by the starfish in the corner. She sliced enough cucumber to cover a plate and put the rest of the produce back in her fridge. Once a water bottle was tucked under each arm, she shuffled to the living room with the dish balanced on her palm. Valencia positioned one drink on each end of the table. She set the plate in the center.

Heather held a finished product and the lighter in her hands. She sparked a small flame, touched the fire to the end of the paper, and twiddled the joint in circles between her thumb and forefinger. Heather talked Valencia through the breathing counts by likening it to yoga. Then she detailed the best inhalation technique for drawing the hit into her lungs. 

Valencia worked to commit the advice to memory despite mounting uncertainty. She gave Heather’s demonstration full attention and tried to duplicate it once the second toke was offered to her. The sputtering aftermath seemed unavoidable, but it could’ve been worse without the tutorial.

“Why do you have a starfish?” Valencia asked once the cough subsided. 

“Marine Biology. She’s basically the biggest part of my grade for the next three months.”

“Important starfish.” Valencia flexed her fingers. Her brow furrowed at the subtle numbness in her extremities.

“Yeah. We get to refer to them by name in our reports, so I’m trying to figure out something that’s, like, academically serious but still reflects her personality.” Heather contemplated the tank from a distance. “Oh, right, I almost forgot.” She fumbled with a different compartment of her bag and tossed Valencia a hefty paperback. 

Valencia missed the catch. The purchase whacked the corner of the couch, causing it to ricochet into her lap. “What’s this?”

“I thought it might give us a place to start.” Heather twisted the cap off her water and chugged.

Valencia held the book away from her face. Her eyes went slightly crossed at the number emblazoned across the front. “One million... No, wait, damn it. Not that many zeroes. One hundred thousand baby names? Holy crap! Heather, I don’t think people consider this many options for their human children.”

“They do according to the store where I bought our mid-high munchies.”

Valencia tried to whistle but couldn’t accomplish the sound. She gave up the effort and shook her head instead. “We’re going to be here a while.”

Heather plucked up two slices of cucumber. She pressed one against Valencia’s palm. “We’ve got time.”

Valencia followed the unspoken command and sampled the serving. She grabbed Heather’s wrist. “This tastes like rain.”

Heather snorted. “What?”

“Try it.” 

Heather complied and her eyes widened. “It does.”

They consumed a few more before Valencia’s elbow bumped the book and she remembered their intended task. “Oh shoot. We were supposed to be finding a name for your little buddy.” Her forehead creased as she attempted to concentrate. “What kind of name?”

“Maybe we could start with real stars?”

“The celebrity kind or wish-upon-a?”

Heather cackled but held up two fingers. “That one.” She leaned against the pile of throw pillows. “Polaris. Vega. Mira.”

“The Sun,” Valencia added tentatively.

“Also true.”

“How about the word for star in other languages?”

“What would that be in Spanish?”

“Estrella.”

Heather leaned forward until she could see her starfish in the water. “Estrella,” she repeated, dragging out the final vowel. “I kinda dig that.” 

“We have a keeper?”

“I think so.”

Valencia pouted at the tome under her hand, still unopened. “Well, that was easy.” She chucked it away. The thunk of impact when the book slid to the bathroom door made them giggle.

They readjusted on the couch until they were angled toward one another, legs overlapped at the ankle. 

“You know, before you showed up tonight, I kind of wondered if maybe you were mad at me,” Valencia admitted.

Heather reached for the joint where it rested at the edge of their shared plate. “Why would I be upset with you?”

Valencia frowned. “I don’t know. We haven’t been hanging out lately, and I guess I got worried. I haven’t seen you since Rebecca and I came back from investigating Anna.”

“Things got kinda busy after that.” Heather exhaled slowly. “Speaking of getting busy, how was that barfly rando you left with? Rebecca was all pouty you turned her down for Friday Night Lights to get laid. Because, y’know, priorities.”

“We didn’t really do anything.”

“He passed out before things got to that point? The guy was pretty far gone already.”

“No, he was conscious when I saw him last.” Valencia sighed and lolled her head to the side. “I panicked and ditched him in the parking lot.”

Heather traced the design on the nearest pillow. Her head bobbed almost imperceptibly with every rise and fall of the stitching, as if she were experiencing each crest and valley like a winding road. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t know how to go through it.” Heather gave her a dubious look and they both laughed. Valencia rolled her eyes. “Well, okay, I knew how, but I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. He was all over me under the lamppost and it was like I was out of my body thinking, ‘What am I going to do? Invite this not-so-sexy stranger back to my place and pray he’s not a murderer?’ I don’t even remember what excuse I made. I just bolted and shouted something over my shoulder. Locked my car doors and sped off.”

Heather stifled a snicker with a fist against her mouth. “Wow. That was a next level hard pass.”

Valencia hid behind her fingers, wincing. “I know. I feel bad but, at the same time, I don’t regret it.” She lowered her arms and twitched her shoulders. “So Josh has some hot new girlfriend and I’m still single. Who gives a shit? Let her put up with the sports clutter all over the house and his annoying nostalgia for his mom’s Bagel Bites.” Valencia paused with a wistful expression. “Oh, but those do sound good right now.”

Heather plunged a hand into her backpack and produced a recognizable red box with a yellow label.

Valencia’s jaw dropped. “You’re a genius.”

They went to the stove and arranged the treats on a pan. Valencia set the oven to preheat then hopped onto the counter with her legs dangling over the ledge. Heather visited her pet. “Hey, Estrella, how’re you doing over here? V, check it out. I think she kinda moved a little. She answered when I called her.” 

Valencia beamed and tapped her shoes against the lower level cabinets. “I’m glad she likes it.”

“Since you picked the name, it feels like that makes you an honorary part of this.” Heather slid her fingertips across the cool glass. “Like a godmother or something.”

“Except we didn’t have to immerse her in water for the christening. She’s already there.” 

“Maybe, for ocean life, you’re supposed to lift them to the sky? Sorta like Simba.”

“I’m not reaching in there.” Valencia shook her head emphatically until dizziness made her stop. “Let’s just pretend we did.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Heather bent low to drape her arms along the counter in front of the tank. She folded both hands beneath her face and stared at the grains of sand. 

Valencia studied Heather with heightened sensory detail. The soft, even sound of her breath reached Valencia’s ears as if there were only centimeters between them. She became convinced it might be possible to count Heather’s eyelashes from afar. Everything was so bold and focused when she looked closely -- the small mole visible beyond the opening in Heather’s deep-cut tank top and another on her neck, the subtle indentation in her chin, the slope of her nose, the piercing through her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and the way the light bounced off the water to dance across her skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Valencia mumbled.

Heather turned to her with a smile. “And you’re high as fuck.”

Valencia considered the current perch she occupied and gulped. Her muddled thoughts latched onto a more literal interpretation of the word ‘high.’ She became suddenly anxious. “I don’t know if I can get down from here.”

Heather moved to stand before Valencia. She braced her knees and extended her arms. “On three?”

Valencia jumped off without warning. Heather yelped when Valencia’s feet landed on hers, but she steadied her companion with a firm grip regardless. “I didn’t count,” she croaked.

“Sorry.” Valencia pulled away slightly to look into Heather’s eyes, but not far enough to break the hold.

Beep.

Heather dropped both hands to her sides. “Oven’s ready.”

Valencia blinked and nodded. She slid the pan onto the metal rack and closed the door. Then she settled cross-legged on the laminate to stare through the foggy glass at their food.

Heather laughed. “Dude, you’ve gotta set the timer first.” She punched in the appropriate number of minutes and offered to help Valencia rise from the floor. “C’mon, let’s wait in the living room.”

Valencia accepted Heather’s assistance but felt a strange pang when her friend’s fingers released hers once more.

They flopped on the couch. Heather flailed as the stacked throw pillows came tumbling down over her head. “Your furniture is attacking me.”

Valencia guffawed but angled forward to rescue Heather from the onslaught. They batted half the square cushions in various directions until only the ones supporting Heather’s spine remained. Valencia took in the mess and her lower lip protruded. “Wait, I didn’t leave any for me to lean on.” 

Heather shifted to the left and patted the empty space beside her. “Just share mine. This thing is like a gigantic bench. We can both fit next to each other.”

Valencia snuggled into place. “Okay.” She rested on her side and hummed contentedly. Her arm wound across Heather’s middle. “You’re so warm. The last person who was on this couch with me was Josh.” Valencia stuck out her tongue. “I’m so much happier with my girl. You and Rebecca are way better company.”

Heather tensed. The bridge of her nose scrunched and her eyelids clamped shut. “V, I have something I’ve got to tell you. But I think you should take another hit first.”

Valencia made a grabby gesture in the air. Heather responded to the silent request and fetched the joint for her. Valencia took a drag with remarkably improved technique and only minor throat clearing. She passed it back to Heather, who indulged in another toke before freeing her hands again. “So, what did you want to say?” Valencia prompted.

Heather grimaced. “Okay, so, you know Anna?”

Valencia’s mouth turned down at one corner. “Unfortunately. What about her?”

“She’s gone.”

“She died?”

“No, no.” Heather waved the misunderstanding aside. “She broke up with him.”

“Oh.” Valencia’s eyebrows rose. “So Josh will finally have to figure out how to be on his own. It’s about damn time.”

Heather took a deep breath. “Not quite.”

“He’s already with someone new? That is so typical.” Valencia scoffed and folded her arms.

Heather met her gaze. Her features were etched with sympathy. “Valencia, it isn’t someone new.”

Valencia struggled to comprehend what that meant. She had to speak the thought process aloud just to make sense of it. “Somebody old? An ex. But Josh only has two of those and he’s not with me so...” The realization washed over her with painful understanding. “Rebecca?”

Heather inclined her head in confirmation.

“But we connected,” Valencia protested feebly. “We refreshed. We healed.”

“I know.”

Valencia pushed her fingertips against her temples. The truth kept slipping in and out of her grasp, a devastating déjà vu she instinctively fought to reject. “When?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Heather sank deeper into the couch. “Rebecca was staying with Paula right after she kicked Scott out, and I got this text about Josh going over there to find her.”

“He ran right from one woman to another. Again.” Valencia’s lip curled.

“That’s what I tried to tell her when I texted back.” Heather tugged off her beanie and clenched it in her fist. “But you know how that goes. You try to stop Rebecca doing a thing and she doubles down. They’ve started going out in public and I didn’t want you to see without knowing ahead of time...” Heather draped her palm over Valencia’s left wrist. “I’m so sorry, V.”

It took additional effort due to her dulled sense of touch, but Valencia found Heather’s hand with her right and clasped. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. No one else showed up at my door to be honest, but you’re here.”

Heather studied the place where their skin met in silence, but there was still intense guilt and regret behind her eyes.

Valencia let her forehead fall against Heather’s arm. She felt Heather’s chin rest near her scalp. “I’m really lucky to have you,” Valencia murmured.

“Same here.”

Beep.

Heather’s laugh escaped on a tremulous exhale. “Oh, shit. The bagels.”

Valencia returned to the kitchen. Heather moved from the couch to the chair where she could monitor snack-related proceedings. Valencia opened the oven and squinted as heat spilled from the interior.

“Don’t forget you need those glove thingies,” Heather cautioned.

“Good call.” Valencia pulled the handle of a nearby drawer and found her floral pair of oven mitts. She moved the tray over the burners then leaned her hip against the counter while she waited for everything to cool. “Heather, what am I going to do?”

“... Eat the Bagel Bites?”

“No. I mean, yes, I am, because they look and smell like a dream. But the Rebecca and Josh thing.” Valencia wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I’ve only got enough room in my head for one thought at a time -- like how I’m pretty sure I can hear the cheese sliding down that far left bagel right now -- but tomorrow’s going to be different. I can’t stay high indefinitely to avoid this.”

Heather nodded. “I think you’ve gotta let yourself feel your feelings. If you wake up sad, have a good cry. If you wake up pissed, go kickboxing or something and let all that aggression out. They’re gonna want your forgiveness, but you don’t have to give that to them until you’re ready. They need to respect your emotional right to cope in whatever way works best. Both of them hurt you, and they don’t get to dictate the self-care required to recover from that.” She looked down at where she was sitting and smiled. “I’m like textbook armchair psychologist right now, literally and figuratively.”

Valencia’s lips twitched. She dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Heather tilted her head to the side and her eyebrows quirked. “Okay. That is a feeling. Not any of the ones I was expecting, but like, do your thing.”

“It’s not that,” Valencia clarified as she gasped for oxygen. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“Heather Davis. HD. Your initials are the same as High Definition.” The amusement overtook her again. Valencia whimpered at the resultant sting behind her rib cage. She ran her wrist under both eyelids while Heather chuckled appreciatively. “I’m sorry; the weed is just making that weirdly funny to me for some reason. But I think I have your new contact name for my phone.”

“It’s perfect. Go for it.”

Valencia tried to access her back pocket and ended up patting her jeans in confusion. “Wait, I can’t find it.”

“That’s because you’ve still got your Minnie Mouse hands on.”

“My...?” Valencia held out her arms and realized she still wore her patterned oven mitts. “Oh! Crap. Hang on, how do I take this one off when my fingers are stuck in the other one?”

Heather wheezed. “Don’t worry. I’ll come help you, you confused cartoon character.”

She walked over to catch hold of the troublesome material. “Pull.”

Valencia wrenched her hands free and gave an excited shout. “Yay, they’re back!”

Heather patted Valencia’s shoulder. “I think they were there the whole time.”

“Probably.” Valencia gasped, making Heather jump. “Hey, do you know where we should eat these bagels? Under the dining room table.”

Heather’s eyebrows drew closer together. “Don’t people usually put their food on top of the table?”

“Doesn’t matter. This will be better. Trust me.” Valencia wandered off with the pan in both hands. 

Heather stood still for a minute while she tried to trace the logic behind the suggestion. Ultimately, she shrugged and followed Valencia’s lead. She passed through the living room, grabbed the two water bottles along the way, and sidestepped the Venetian screen. Valencia was already there, dragging two living room pillows and a thin blanket alongside her as she crawled out of sight. 

“It’ll be like a fort,” Valencia reasoned. “Just us against the rest of the world. Only you, me, and modified food starch allowed.”

Heather shook her head affectionately. “Stoned you is basically a junk food craving third grader. I love it.”

Valencia’s face poked into view. “If you’re cootie-free and you know the password, you can join me.”

“Is the password ‘pizza,’ by any chance?”

“Duh. Get down here before I polish them all off myself.”

Heather ducked past the surrounding chairs, back bent to keep her head from bashing against the table. “You’re right; this is so much more comfortable.”

Valencia put a Bagel Bite against Heather’s lips. “Why be full of sarcasm when you can be full of mozzarella?”

“You have a point.” Heather caught the bagel between her teeth and groaned. 

“Good, huh?”

Heather popped the remainder into her mouth and held two thumbs up. “Best three dollars and ninety-seven cents I’ve ever spent.” She tossed Valencia a water bottle and they drank.

Conversation fell by the wayside as they ate across the rows of mini pizzas. By the time they got down to the last few, they were both stretched out on their sides with one elbow propped against their respective pillows. Valencia finished her final bagel and shifted to a reclined position. “This table fort might have to double as a cave. I think I could hibernate from now to spring.”

Heather stowed the empty pan atop a chair, clearing the path for them to get more comfortable. “Sign me the fuck up. Home Base and Miss Douche can figure out how to get by without me until, like, at least mid-March.” She hugged the throw pillow and settled on her stomach. Valencia fanned the blanket over their legs. “So it’s cool if I crash here?” Heather checked, eyelids fluttering closed despite her best efforts to prevent them from doing so.

“Of course.” Valencia got situated with one hand flung above her head. Her natural sleeping position accidentally brought their arms into contact again. She debated moving a few inches to allow more room between them for sleep. However, since Heather didn’t seem to mind their proximity and Valencia found the nearness comforting, she let it go.

A few minutes ticked by without a single noise, save for their relaxed breathing. Valencia was on the brink of dozing, but she licked her lips and tried to express one last sentiment. It traveled through the stillness in a whisper. “Heather?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for trying to protect me.”

Heather drowsily rolled to the side, bumping against Valencia in a slow motion body-check before returning to her spot. “No problem. Everyone needs someone in their corner, right? You can count on me.”

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2019 #20: In which Donna still doesn’t get it (but then eventually does get it)

[CW: references to sex and alcohol consumption]

Headcanon that in 1996, Cameron insists on celebrating the second anniversary of Donna’s idea, mostly because she’s thought of and managed to acquire the perfect gift:

After cooking and sharing delightful and informal dinner with Haley and Joanie, who is home for the holidays, Cameron presents Donna with a small square box, that’s about the size of Cameron’s slightly larger than average hand, that has a cellophane bow stuck to the top. It’s made of a sturdy, fine-looking, black matte cardboard that says jewelry, or worse a watch, and Donna panics slightly. “Oh, Cam, you didn’t have to get me anything,” she says. (She’s both perplexed by the idea of Cameron spending her money on her, and also doesn’t want to have stop wearing the watch she bought for herself.)

“I know I didn’t,” Cameron grins, pushing the box toward her, “but your idea is the best thing to happen to me since you came to work at Mutiny, so. I wanted to give you a token of my deep appreciation.” Everyone at the table gets quiet, lumps suddenly in their throats, and so Joanie breaks the tension by quietly whispering, “…that’s gay.” Haley laughs so hard that she snorts, as Cameron and Donna both turn to give Joanie the same decidedly Mom-ish look of slightly bemused admonishment. Only half-kidding, Donna says, “Who raised you?” as she picks up the box and opens it.

When Donna looks into the box, she looks up at Cameron, and genuinely confused, says, “…did you give me a beanbag?” Clearly bursting with excitement, Cameron says, “No — it’s a hacky sack!” Donna looks even more confused. “You know,” Cameron struggles to explain, like the kind that Haley’s ex-boyfriend to play with?” (Joanie and Haley both snicker.) “Oh,” Donna says, face softening. The corners of her mouth start to turn up. She takes the hacky sack out of the box, slowly stands up, and says, “So, what do you do, you just kick it to yourself?” Cameron shrugs, “Yeah, just, use your knees.” Donna still doesn’t quite know how one starts a game of hacky sack, but still awkwardly tosses it, and manages to bounce it off her knee and then catch it again, start over and bounce it off her knee and catch it a second time. Without trying to be cute, Donna sighs, “I still don’t get it.” 

In what Donna secretly thinks of as Cameron’s rarely-heard ‘9 year old know-it-all voice,’ Cameron says, “You’re not supposed to use your hands.” Wryly, Donna says, “Well I guess I’ll just have to practice then.” She bounces it off her a knee a third time, but this time she manages to bounce it off her knee once, twice, a third time, keeps going, and Joanie puts down her fork and says, “Yes, go Mom! WHOO!” 

Concentrating ridiculously hard, Donna manages to keep it going, until Haley says, “Did you know that ‘hacky sack’ is actually what’s known as a generic trademark?” With an eye roll, Joanie says, “I don’t know what that means, why do I have the feeling you’re gonna tell us?” Hearing her cue, Haley says, “it means that ‘hacky sack’ is actually the brand name, like band-aid, or kleenex. The name of the sport and the required equipment is actually footbag.” 

This makes Donna drop the hacky sack. She looks over at Haley, face contorted in disgust, and says, “…that’s hideous.” Because she’s in the exact same emotional place as Donna and her facial expression, Cameron looks at the girls and says, “Yeah, we’re gonna keep calling it hacky sack.” Joanie says, “I third that emotion.” Haley jokes, “I can accept when I’ve been outvoted,” and Donna, hacky sack in hand, points at her and says, “Hey, we do not joke about outvoting in this house!” Joanie says, “Wait, why?” but Cameron smiles up at Donna adoringly and says, “Your consideration is noted and appreciated, boss.”

All parties involved understand this as a symbolic gift, and expect it to remain in a place of honor on one of Donna’s desks. Donna gets into the habit of actually using the hacky sack when she needs a break from work. Cameron buys her another one to keep in her Symphonic office, where Donna slipping off her heels and jacket and “hacky sacking” in a pencil skirt becomes a common sight. (“Sacking” in heels becomes a fun parlor trick for certain guests and friends of Symphonic.) When questioned by her friends and co-workers about this new habit, Donna says, “What? It’s my black turtle neck! I’ve got a tech mogul quirk, finally!”

Seeing that it actually works for Donna, Cameron also starts trying to hacky sack when she needs to stop looking at her code. She’s not anywhere near as graceful as Donna is (or as aggressive as Donna is about getting better at it), but it does effectively take her mind off of her work, and it’s surprisingly fun despite also being kind of annoying? Haley and Joanie try it, and end up having a hacky sack battle before Joanie goes back to Thailand after the holidays, and it becomes a running joke that hacky sack is the official sport and pastime of the Emerson-Clark-Howe household

This is in great part because eventually, drunk hacky sack happens in their house, flirty hacky sack (between Haley and more than one girl), and then angry hack sack while Cameron and Donna are having a petty argument, ‘sad sack hacky sack’ which is what Joanie call it when they play while trying to distract themselves from nostalgia or grief, and, finally: strip hacky sack, which is, of course, Donna’s idea. Naturally though, it’s Cameron who figures out that it works better when Donna plays strip hacky sack by herself, and lets Cameron watch.