#she was bi! she turned into a cat! she was gonna become a Time Lord! WE WERE ROBBED

[infiniteglitterfall]

Honestly, what does "hasn't been born yet" even mean for a time traveler. That they haven't been born yet in whatever time they're visiting? Or that Susan herself had been born in his personal future and went off traveling with his first(??) self? The latter is more interesting, at least.

In that case, it could mean he had been a father before, but not to Susan's parent, and was still going to be again.

Or yeah they could just mess up. Moffat was extremely big on just saying and doing whatever was most interesting at the moment, and abandoning it the moment it became inconvenient to him personally. But that's not the norm anymore - I hope.

People who have seen under 20 years of Doctor Who: Aw I can't believe they teased the Doctor's family but we didn't learn anything

People who have seen Too Much Doctor Who: THEY CONFIRMED SUSAN'S PARENT HASN'T BEEN BORN YET?? FINALLY A SIGNIFICANT UPDATE!! WE ARE MAKING REAL PROGRESS!!

[inevitableenquere]

Mademoiselle Mari

Insp. by a comment on the Maribat Discord:

Buckle up, biches.

We’re gonna pull deep into DC canon for the French codename for female superheroes, Mademoiselle Marie, in use since the 18th century through the World Wars and probably beyond. Alfred Pennyworth worked closely with “Mademoiselle Marie” in the past.

In this universe, its expanded into a French government-sponsored training program, training little girls in espionage and assassinry since the Cold War. These program heads aren’t monsters; the girls still live with their families, still go to civilian school, they just occasionally “take trips to see distant relatives”.

Their parents are aware that their daughters are doing government work, and there’s a benefit package unlike any other available within the country. Salary is set aside in trust for “Marie” until she hits adulthood (precaution in case of shitty parents) and a stipend besides for her and her parents to use as they see fit. These girls get a full-ride “scholarship” to any accredited global university of their choice. Only the best of the best risk their lives for wet-work necessary for the good of France. These girls become unsung heroes of France, and they receive glowing recommendations when they decide to move on from the program.

Still, it’s not something the Dupein-Cheng family had thought of for their daughter, it’s not a well-known program after all. The handlers don’t have an eye on her until new mayor of Paris, freshly divorced, André Bourgeois brings the girl “bullying his little princess” to their attention. And that is how six-year-old Marinette Dupein-Cheng is brought into the program.

Now, Marinette, tiny little bi-racial girl, is competitive, and this program is something she enjoys, learning from adults and “older sisters” on how to tumble, dance, act, create, and make new friends– both in person with the other girls, and through letters to former agents and outside contacts. They craft a network based on previously established agency contacts and expand upon them as they move out in the world.

Marinette quickly becomes a star student, moving on to weapons training, and eventually becomes one of the first to graduate in her batch and she travels the world as pre-teen superspy “Mademoiselle Marie”. (Whose last name changes by assignment.)

This is how she meets Damian Al Ghul, prince of the League of Assassins for the first time, though he’s introduced to her as “independent contractor” Caracal. He clocks her as trained, and a threat right away, and takes his standard precautionary measure. He attempts to murder her.

Attempts, because Mari is just as trained as he is, if not as lethally inclined. He quickly finds himself pinned under her knee, knife to his throat. (Later, he insists that he was having an off day, helplessly grateful that he hadn’t succeeded.) But in the moment they agree to a truce and go their own way, Marie Simon to her “parents”, Caracal to the shadows from whence he came.

Naturally, the next time they meet they are “distant cousins” on a collaborative wetworks mission in Thessaly, against an uppity German drug lord, and his mad-scientist wife. The mission goes a bit sideways, took more luck than either will admit to pull it off, and they emerge from the aftermath, a grudging respect on both sides. Even if she’s too soft and he’s an arrogant andouille.

Through happenstance and circumstances, they run into each other enough, work together enough, to become friends. Friends, in this case, meaning “person I won't stab on sight and/or who owes me a favor”. A rarity for Damian.

Marinette thinks otherwise; with friendships among those in her organization, and tentative friendships with some of the boys in école, she considers Caracal an Ally. A lonely sad boy, sure, but more a feral street cat then a friend. It takes more than a few meetings for Marinette to consider him a Ride-or-Die Friend.

Through the years, these two baby assassins grow into a friendship that withstands facing each other as enemies to reunite with no hard feelings at the next meeting between them. After all it’s Just Business, and they both know that well.

And then Hawkmoth.

Marinette can’t be Ladybug, “defender of Paris” when “Mademoiselle Marie” travels across the globe networking for her government and taking down European threats. Marinette reluctantly resigns from her position, and she takes up a red-spotted mantle.

Now the Mlle. Marie Organization aren’t idiots. Marinette Dupein-Cheng retires with accolades, offered a permanent place whenever she finishes her “hiatus”. And if the Parisian Police are instructed from on high to look the other way for Ladybug? Well, it’s best to leave superhero business to superheroes.

People in the organization are Carefully Not Thinking About It.

Completely coincidentally, therapy and healthy coping mechanisms are now mandatory for all operatives working within Paris and the surrounding areas.

That said, she still has to tell her assassin that she’s retiring.

Damian does not take it well.

Not like murder not well.

Like communication blackout and regime change in Peru not well.

Damian gives her the silent treatment. After all, she’s Out. (She abandoned him.)

Little does he know, his mother is working to get him out as well.

Marinette, meanwhile is Not Happy that Mothman Barbie decided to take out his issues on her home turf. The Mlle. Marie project is supposed to be foreign support, and last line of defense. So I mean it's in her wheelhouse. She just enjoyed her job as a globetrotting pre-teen superspy.

She doesn’t want to be chained down to the homefront, not when there's so much inspiration out there! Putting all that on hold for Mothman Barbie in Paris, eating into her free time, sleep, and drastically cutting into her social life? Bitch.

Civilian life makes her itch now, stuck in one place with confusing, mandatory, rules. Fictional barriers and preteen posturing, and only one hidden knife? Being Marinette is Suffering™. New friend Alya and pretty-boy Adrien can only relieve it so much.

Yes she has a bit of a crush. He's pretty and a model. Shut up.

Tikki is pleased she's got another loyal warrior, a second coming of Jeanne d'Arc, though she wishes Marinette was kinder. That's something she learns while dealing with Mothman Barbie. Not just how to act kind, to prevent akumas. But how to genuinely be kind. How to unlock the empathy she'd learned to tune out years ago, and how to act altruistically.

During her collège years Marinette juggles the life of a teen superhero, making friends with her class sincerely for the first time in years, something she didn’t get the chance to do with her frequent trips. Beyond Nino and Kim that is.

When Lila comes she deems her as annoying, but not worth her time. Until she’s the one turning her friends into akumas, with broken promises and lies that damage reputations. Marinette has a set future, as long as she keeps to the laws of this land and doesn’t slaughter a bitch. Lila can’t do anything to her. But if she hurts any of her friends, Lila is getting a horse head in her bed, American cliché or not.

Thankfully her crush on Adrien dies a silent death during this time. She can’t see herself with someone who won’t stand up for himself, nor with someone who enables a pathological liar that is one move away from harming the rest of her friends. She’s unspeakably grateful for that when Mothman Barbie is revealed to be his absentee father and Mayura to be the closest thing he has to a living mother. She’s able to focus her attention on his mental state and not how stupidly pretty he is.

Adrien is cemented as her best friend and platonic life partner in a catsuit. Adrien, once he got over his crush on the "idol" Ladybug, is happy to treat her the same. He’s just glad that his Lady won’t leave him for what his family had done.

Despite Mari’s wishes, Ladybug can’t retire just yet. People come out of the woodwork to fill in the vacuum left behind from the fashion-blind terrorist that held Paris in fear for three years. Ladybug is a celebrity, and Paris would be left uneasy if the city’s heroes left them undefended. She trains to be a guardian with Master Fu, to find more permanent Miraculous holders to take up the defense of Paris, and later the world. She finally has the free time to devote to her fashion commissions and to pick up the occasional job with her old organization.

It’s mid-way through lycée that Jagged invites her as his plus one to a charity gala in the United States. As his designer, and as an inconspicuous bodyguard that has combat training (far more than he knows), Marinette is the best choice when Penny is on leave. It gives his favorite niece the chance to network with American big shots, and get her brand noticed by more than just a few fashion moguls in Paris.

Which leads us to today. Marinette Dupein-Cheng– agent on leave, teenage superhero, aspiring designer, and temporary bodyguard of her surrogate uncle– spots a very familiar profile across the room.

Her assassin, dressed to kill, possibly literally. And she resigns herself to once more being on the opposite side of the boy who cut her out of his life, and any attempts to get in touch with him.

She’s dressed in a MDC original (with more hidden knives on her person than people would think), as she goes through the familiar song-and-dance and slips into the mindset of Mademoiselle Marie.

Stolen glances across the room. How have they been? Will they talk to me again even if I left/left her in silence?

Both are on edge. They are professionals and an unexpected meeting won't prevent them from keeping their loved ones charges safe.

It's like they never left the business, the two of them. They don't know each other. I've never seen them before. They can't have been the murderer because I saw them head to the bathroom. Just don't. touch. what's. Mine.

They're Friends after all.

Thankfully nothing happens at the party.

Damian Wayne saw her. How could he have ignored her, magnetic as she ever was. His eyes periodically drawn to her, partly assessment, partly admiration. When nothing happens at the gala, he figures that she’s changed as much as he has. And Damian has changed. He's softer and he knows it. He's been Out almost as long as she has, and in trying to hold to his father’s standards, he doesn’t think he could slip into the mindset of the ruthless prince of assassins so easily any more.

The silence and loss of his first friend on the other hand, was a wound that lingered even as he learned of civilian friendships and built connections with other superheroes around his age. This was a chance to introduce himself to his oldest friend. Without business between them this time.

It's Damian that does the signal.

Mari trips and giggles at the end of the night over to her assassin. It's easy after years of "Clumsy Marinette can't possibly be Ladybug!" She plays up the petite harmless French girl.

"Mon Caracal!" She calls from 3 feet away, stumbling into his arms.

She hugs him, compartmentalizing the muscled form that holds her safely, knowing he can kill her if she plays this wrong.Not without a fight though.

She hugs him more surely, kissing both his cheeks the way neither of them would be allowed outside of acting. "It's been far too long!"

She pulls away to see him gazing down at her, and wow someone has given him acting lessons because he smiles soft, fond, and far more real than he ever had Before.

"Marie."

She boops him on the nose. "Marinette." She teases coyly. She can't tell him her last name. For the safety of her parents, but also to keep cover as close friends.

"Marinette." He nods, crooked smile on his face, and away from prying eyes there's the signal that he'll keep his mouth shut about her name.

Speaking of prying eyes... "Marinette!" Uncle Jagged calls, making his way over to the pair of them. Her assassin is surprised, though few would be able to tell, at the world-famous rockstar approaching them.

"Uncle Jagged!" She answers, facing him but keeping a hand on the muscled arm of her friend to keep him from attacking, just in case.

She plays up the accent. Just a rockstar with his very French™ niece and her boy toy, nothing to see here!

"Jagged," she says again looking up at her uncle, "this is my good friend–"

"Damian" her assassin, starstruck or not, can follow his cue.

Between them is the subtle flash of information-true-hidden as she speaks over it to distract Jagged. "–Damian, my caracal."

Jagged bristles a little, baring his teeth in what those who don't know him would call a toothy grin, rather than a threat.

"And is Damian rock-and-roll enough for my favorite designer, M?"

"He's very kind," she confides with a Marinette-sweet smile. In his own way. she finishes the thought ruefully. A small part of her brain is cackling hysterically.

Jagged relaxes, and drags the both of them forward, holding a polaroid out to snap a picture of the three of them. ("Very Rock-and-Roll!" Jagged had said three months earlier.) He shakes the picture to development, and autographs it with a flourish, before stuffing it into Damian's hands.

"Well any friend of Marinette's is a friend of mine! And M? Car leaves in 10." He smiles, patting them both on the shoulder before sauntering off.

"I." Damian tries. He sighs.

"Jagged Stone? Jagged? Really Marie?" Damian asks, slipping once more into the familiar nickname. Marinette decided to let it slide, Jagged had that effect on a lot of people.

Marinette shrugs helplessly, before fishing a pen and spare notepad for her to jot down her contact information. It had only been a night but that familiar rush and heady friendship was something that Mari didn't want to lose if she could help it. She placed the paper with the photograph, putting the lethal pen back in her clutch, and cupping his face in both hands.

"Keep in touch this time? Please mon caracal?" If her begging was a little more heartfelt, well she’d learned a few things too. She kissed his cheek one final time and stepped away.

A hand caught her wrist.

"It hasn't been the same without you, Marinette." Damian said, hand slipping into hers, thumb gently brushing the back of it. He lifted her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles, before stepping away and towards the exit.

I must not swoon. I must not swoon. I must not swoon. Marinette chanted internally as she left to find Jagged, already looking forward to turning a Friendship into something more honest. More real.

-Meanwhile, In The Lobby-

"What was that, baby bird?" Dick asked his youngest brother.

"An old friend." Damian answered tersely, pointedly ignoring the curious stare from his Father and the more obnoxious kissy noises from Todd.

"Hell of an old friend." Tim commented, sounding almost put out, probably because of the unexpected personal introduction to Jagged Stone and autograph Damien had received. "You let her get close."

Damian raised an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes, "PDA close!" he expounded like that explained anything.

Dick must have sensed his confusion, " You attempted to judo-flip Kor'i when you first met her. And you let this tiny girl hug you and kiss your cheeks."

Damian scowled, "I'm not that bad!"

"You bit me last week when I went to ruffle your hair!" Jason said, tugging his suit sleeve back to reveal light scarring.

"And?" Damian said, very done with the conversation already.

"We just wanted to know how long you've been pining for her, baby bird." Dick teased.

Damian felt a betraying heat creep up the back of his neck, to his ears and cheeks. "It's not like that!" He hissed.

"I-" he paused, wondering how he could explain the beautiful, cunning girl who knew of his past, was honestly the best part of it, and how she had watched his back, kept him safe and sane, had killed people on his tail even, without making them regard her as a threat.

His grandfather would have made her an example. Vivisected, drawn and quartered for daring to get close to his perfect weapon.

"I've known her for years. We're Friends, and that means I'll allow her more than I would you, Todd."

He stalked forward, as his father called behind him, "You should introduce us when you feel comfortable, Damian."

He stopped, listening but not daring to turn around.

"After all," Damian could hear the grin in his father's voice, "It'll be nice to meet my future daughter-in-law!"

Screw the Joker, Batman ends right here, right now.

[writethehousedown]

Let the Love be Your Life (Branjie)--athena2

Summary: After their kid doesn’t know one of their favorite movies, Brooke and Vanessa have a little movie marathon introducing favorite movies to them.

A/N:

This is a Christmas gift for Writ because they’re the absolute best. It also fulfills the prompt ‘List’ for Ficmas here (albeit a few days late), so I wanted to share here as well!  It’s pretty much pure fluff and I hope you all enjoy! I’d appreciate any feedback you have as well.

Title from Mother from Carole and Tuesday

“Brooke, can you get me a bowl?” Vanessa calls over from the stove, where she’s stirring a pot of rice.

“As you wish.” Brooke snorts after she says it, trading smiles with Vanessa. One of their favorite movies, and the first couples costume they did all those years ago for Nina’s world-famous–or at least city-famous–Halloween party, where there was always full catering, a DJ, and at least one rumored celebrity hidden behind a mask. One person isn’t smiling though, and it’s their kid, pausing table-setting to stare at them.

“‘As you wish?’” Sam repeats in confusion. “What is this, the Middle Ages?”

Brooke’s mouth falls open. “What? No, it’s from a movie.”

“Oh.” Sam shrugs and goes back to setting the table, clearly unimpressed.

Vanessa is nowhere near as calm, her wooden spoon clattering on the counter. “Brooke, our child doesn’t know The Princess Bride!” She leaves the stove to stand by Brooke, shaking her head in outrage.

“We’ve officially failed as parents,” Brooke agrees.

Sam rolls their eyes. “It’s just some old movie, right?”

“‘Some old movie,’” Vanessa mutters under her breath. “‘Some old movie.’ Brooke, we gotta fix this.”

Brooke nods. She and Vanessa have always let Sam be themself, reading and watching stuff freely, as long as it wasn’t too dark or upsetting. But in all that, they must have forgotten to show Sam all the movies they had wanted to, the movies that Brooke and Vanessa love.

When Vanessa got stuck on bed rest towards the end of her pregnancy, she watched movies to pass the time, and Brooke joined her when she could, rubbing Vanessa’s aching back and massaging her shoulders, doing anything she could to make her more comfortable. They talked about all the movies they wanted to watch after their baby was born, the things they wanted to do and memories they wanted to make as a family. They had even made a list of movies, but it got lost somewhere in the chaos of having a new baby. Sam might be nine now, but they can still make those memories, and Brooke claps her hands. “We need a movie marathon!”

Vanessa jumps up and down. “Yeah! This week, we’re gonna watch a bunch of movies! Sammy’s on winter break, it’s perfect! We can do one every night! Peter Pan, and the Peanuts, and Muppets Christmas Carol–”

“Jurassic Park,” Brooke adds, grabbing a notebook and pen. “And Star Wars, and Matilda … my movies are way better than yours, babe.”

“Nuh-uh!” Vanessa yells. “Mine are classics!”

“I guess Sam will be the judge of that, then.” Brooke grins.

“They will be, and you can do dishes for a week when they like mine better,” Vanessa says, raising her eyebrow mischievously.

“What do I get if I win?” Brooke asks. It better be something good, something Vanessa hates as much as Brooke hates doing dishes.

Vanessa thinks. “I’ll do the laundry for a week.”

Vanessa hates folding clothes since she does it all day in her boutique. Brooke doesn’t mind laundry, exactly, but she’ll happily let Vanessa take over and fold the endless amounts of clothes for a week.

“Deal.” Brooke smiles, all thoughts of rivalry gone and replaced with excitement of the memories they’ll make.

—

i. The Princess Bride

“Okay, is everyone ready?” Brooke stands in front of the TV, making sure Vanessa and Sam are settled on the couch with pillows and blankets and the cats, canyon-sized bowl of popcorn and cupcakes from Brooke’s sister Kameron’s bakery all ready for the night.

“Ready!” Vanessa yells. Brooke presses play, and Vanessa opens her arms for Brooke to snuggle into as the movie starts.

“At least you two aren’t wearing your costumes,” Sam teases. Vanessa and Brooke have probably been a little too eager in showing Sam that picture over the years, but Vanessa looked like a literal princess in her red Princess Buttercup dress, Brooke was the perfect Westley, and they got compliments through the entire party, so sue them for showing off. Vanessa still remembers the cool silk flowing around her and warming her hand on the soft bit of skin revealed by Brooke’s shirt.

“Don’t think we weren’t tempted,” Vanessa says. “They’re in the attic somewhere, I bet I could still fit in that dress–”

“Do we need to pause it already?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa swats at her before snuggling back down and watching the movie.

Vanessa finds herself watching her family more than the movie, watching Brooke’s eyes widen and her lips stretch into a grin like she’s never seen it before. Then she turns to Sam, who really has never seen it before. They’re skeptical at first, face blank, but then their brown eyes–so warm and expressive, like Vanessa’s–light up when the Dread Pirate Roberts reveals himself to be Westley. By the end, their smile is huge.

“You liked it, huh?” Vanessa asks.

Sam looks down. “I guess,” they say, and Vanessa knows their nine-year-old heart can’t quite admit something their parents like is cool, but it’s a start, and she’s counting this as a win in both her and Brooke’s column.

“Well, I’m ready for tomorrow!” Vanessa yells, pulling Brooke in for a kiss.

—

ii. Star Wars

Brooke knows the baby Yoda ugly sweater and Star Wars pajama pants are overkill, but she can’t help it. From the moment she first saw the movie as a seven-year-old, all she wanted was to be a Jedi like Luke and save the galaxy. She and Kameron made lightsabers out of foam swords and spray paint, and they ran around their background slicing through enemies and saving the day. Kameron had even made truffles decorated like the Death Star when Brooke told her what they were watching, her brown eyes warm with memories of their Jedi days.

Brooke doesn’t know whether this movie thing between her and Vanessa is a contest, but if it is, she doesn’t really care about it for this movie. She just wants to watch it with her kid, hope they find the same joy in it that she did.

Sam seems to be enjoying the truffles at least, and they shove another one in their mouth. “Aunt Kam’s stuff is so good,” they say with their mouth full, and Brooke agrees.

The music blasts and opening crawl creeps onto the screen, and Brooke grins, even when Vanessa rolls her eyes fondly and asks her continual question of why everyone else has such ‘weird-ass names’ and Luke’s is normal.

Brooke didn’t think anything would be better than the first time she saw it, in their living room with salty popcorn burning her lips and Kameron next to her, but watching it now, with her wife at her side and their kid on the other couch watching with wide eyes, just might be even better. She never thought she would have this life, a family around her like this, and she pulls Vanessa little closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo.

Sam is grinning when the movie ends, and warmth rushes through Brooke’s chest, that her kid enjoyed something that means a lot to Brooke.

“That’s my favorite one so far,” they say sheepishly, and Brooke lets out a whoop.

“All right, all right, it’s only been two movies so far,” Vanessa says. “We’re goin’ to Neverland tomorrow, and then we’ll see what’s better.”

—-

iii. Peter Pan

Vanessa feels like a professor as she stands in front of the TV, Sam and Brooke staring at her expectantly.

“Is this a presentation?” Brooke teases. “Should I take notes?”

“Oh please, you’re the one who loves presentations,” Vanessa says fondly. “No presentation–this movie did make me want to go into design, though. Oh! And it was the first sign that I was bi. Little kid me didn’t know if she wanted a flying boyfriend or a fairy girlfriend more.” Vanessa grins dreamily. She can still remember her heart fluttering the same way when she looked at Peter and his coppery hair as it did when she watched Tinkerbell pout, how it all made sense when she was seventeen and fully realized that she was bi for the first time.

“Start the movie, Ma!” Sam yells.

Vanessa does, then instantly pauses it, turning to Sam with worries in her mind. “Don’t get any stupid ideas from this movie, now!” she warns. “Don’t go flying around with people who show up in your window, no matter how cute they are! And Wendy was a child, acting all grown, Lord help us when you become a teenager–”

“Okay, Ness,” Brooke soothes, motioning for Vanessa to sit with her and pulling her into a hug when she does.

“I promise I won’t fly around with people in my window,” Sam says, and Vanessa smiles, reaching over and ruffling their brown waves.

“You better not,” Vanessa says, leaning back into Brooke, her wife still as cozy to cuddle with as she’s always been.

Vanessa’s dancing in place and belting out all the songs in no time. She’s known all the words since she was six, when she would perform the whole movie in her living room or sing them to herself as she drew fierce pirate coats and sparkly fairies with striped wings, and they’ve refused to leave her brain, even if she wishes she could have that space for something useful like where she put her phone.

Brooke’s not much of a singer, but she hums along, and when Sam’s soft voice hesitantly joins Vanessa’s, she knows the night is a success.

—

iv. Matilda

It’s not as action-packed as her other favorite movies on the list, but as a shy kid who always had her nose in a book, Brooke’s always had a soft spot for Matilda. After she had to accept that becoming a Jedi wasn’t a viable career path, it had been Matilda that gave her the idea to become a librarian. She could surround herself with books all day, and help people find the book they were looking for, introducing them to whole new worlds through the pages, just like she does with each bedtime story for Sam every night.

“This is a movie about a kid with magic powers, right?” Sam asks.

“Right,” Vanessa says, “and Mommy loves it because she’s a big nerd.”

“Hey!” Brooke protests, but Vanessa is laughing and giving her a warm hug.

“You know I love you for it,” Vanessa says simply, and Brooke hugs her back and knows it’s true.

It’s nice to watch a movie she hasn’t seen since she was a kid and find it still makes her smile the same way, still gives her the same hope at seeing a shy girl who loved books the way she did—and still does. Brooke has never been the confident, outgoing kid in so many movies. She was quiet and kept to herself, and Matilda gave her a world where she could be the hero. She hopes Sam always feels that way too, always knows that they can be the hero.

When the credits roll, Sam declares that it’s not their favorite off the list, but Brooke doesn’t mind.

—-

v. Peanuts

“Why are these even on the list?” Sam asks as Vanessa fiddles with the TV. “I’ve seen all the Peanuts movies.”

“And you’ll see them again!” Vanessa yells. “This is different. They’re official now, on the list and everything.” She starts the Easter special and shuts down all the arguments, biting into a peanut butter cookie.

“All right, all right.” Sam gives in, but they’re not complaining. Sam once tried to make Riley dance like Snoopy, and Vanessa knows they love these movies just as much as she does.

“This is another thing that got me into fashion,” Vanessa says. “Because I didn’t know why they always wore the same boring old clothes in all the movies, so I drew them wearing some new ones.”

“Of course you did.” Brooke grins.

“Well, I had to jazz those outfits up! They’ve been wearing the same clothes forever!” Vanessa laughs. She’s always wanted people to wear clothes they feel like themselves in, and somewhere in between drawing new outfits for cartoon characters, she decided that was what she wanted to do, and it’s what she still does with her own little boutique, just up the street from the library where Brooke works. She loves getting to help people pick out the perfect outfit, watching them smile as they come out feeling as good as they had hoped.

She leans back as Charlie Brown and the others take them through all the seasons, from Easter to Halloween to Thanksgiving and finally Christmas, where Vanessa reaches for tissues and even Sam pretends they have dust in their eye. Vanessa always wanted to fight the other kids for being so mean to Charlie, and even as an adult, the urge is still there.

When the movie’s done, an idea pops into Vanessa’s hand. She whips out her phone and brings up the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack, yanking Brooke into the middle of the room and pulling her into a dance while Sam twirls around with Riley, cats watching from the couch, unimpressed.

“Ness, you’re making me dizzy,” Brooke giggles as Vanessa spins her faster and faster, until they almost crash into the Christmas tree.

Sam is cackling next to them, and Vanessa slows up, pressing her chest close to Brooke’s and melting as Brooke places a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

It’s her favorite movie night by far.

—

vi. Jurassic Park

All her movies on the list are special, but this one just might be the most special for Brooke. Because this is what she and Vanessa watched on their first date.

Brooke had started her first job at the library the same summer Vanessa started doing formal design sketches for a portfolio. She came to the library to get fashion books for ideas, and Brooke secretly hoped she would come back in every day, so they could make small talk and maybe she could say something funny to see Vanessa smile again. And almost every day, Vanessa came back.

Summer was half over and Brooke thought they would do nothing but talk with a library desk between them when Vanessa finally asked her to a movie in the park, both of them giggling as they set the date because they were finally going out after weeks of flirting and smiling and wondering if feelings were reciprocated. A dinosaur movie might not have been the most romantic choice for a first date, but they curled up together on a plaid blanket and let their fingers meet in the bag of buttery popcorn, and when Vanessa gave her a soft kiss as the end theme song played, Brooke knew she was the one.

She looks at her wife now, humming along to the opening theme and eating the dinosaur sugar cookie Kameron made, and knows that she’s still the one.

They snuggle up together and make dinosaur noises that cause Sam to look at them in annoyance, but it only makes them laugh harder.

They watch on the edge of their seats even though they know the ending, and Sam does the same, jumping every time a dinosaur pops out. When the end theme plays softly as the characters escape in the helicopter, Vanessa has tears in her eyes. Brooke’s not a big cryer–the last time she cried was probably when Sam was still a baby–but her eyes pool with dampness too, until she and Vanessa are holding each other and half-laughing, half-crying, because this movie is what brought them together.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks in alarm. “Why are you crying over a dinosaur movie?”

Brooke and Vanessa just laugh and exchange a soft kiss.

—

vii. The Muppet Christmas Carol

Christmas has always been Vanessa’s favorite holiday. As a kid, she fought her brothers every day to move the little Christmas tree counter on their Advent calendar, her excitement only growing as the day grew nearer. She’d just make it through the extra-long church service, and then she was free to play with her cousins and stuff herself with cookie after cookie and wake with the sunrise Christmas morning to jump in her parents’ bed.

Only now that she has her own child jumping in her and Brooke’s bed at an ungodly hour each Christmas does she realize why her parents would groan so loudly and what a little demon she must have been.

But her and Brooke don’t mind–they both love it, really, love all their traditions. There are the cookies they bake all month, the toy drive they help with at Sam’s school, and then Vanessa’s turn bringing Sam shopping to buy Brooke’s present and Brooke’s turn taking Sam to buy Vanessa’s present. The weekend after Thanksgiving, when they’re still stuffed with leftovers, the tree goes up, the three of them passing ornaments around while Vanessa narrates the history of how they got each one and almost falls on the tree trying to prove to Brooke that she can reach the tall branches. The tree is her favorite part, with the rainbow lights twinkling and the shining star looking over them. The tree is extra bright tonight, Christmas just days away, as Vanessa starts one of her favorite Christmas movies.

“This was my favorite to watch when I was pregnant with you,” Vanessa says to Sam. “The doctor said I had to go on bed rest, and I was so mad because it was almost Christmas and I wanted to do stuff. This was the next best thing.” She still remembers those long days, the pain in her back and hips and shoulders combined with the sadness of not being able to hang up lights or bake cookies or do much of anything. The Muppets at least made her smile, gave her a piece of Christmas she could have while stuck in bed. And when Sam was born perfectly healthy in January, she knew it had all been worth it.

“I swear, I heard Kermit in my sleep for weeks,” Brooke says, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway.

“You love Kermit and you know it,” Vanessa says.

Brooke just snorts, but Vanessa knows she’s right.

Vanessa knows most of the words—she really did watch this movie a ridiculous amount of times when she was pregnant—and finds her mouth moving along with the characters. The movie still makes her just as happy as it did when she was stuck in bed, makes her love Christmas and her family that much more. It doesn’t mean she’s forgotten the bet though, and the credits have just started to roll when Vanessa leaps from the couch and turns to Sam. “So?” she asks expectantly.

“So what?” Sam asks casually.

Vanessa huffs. “So, whose movies did you like better? Mine, right? Say mine.”

“No way.” Brooke pops up behind her. “Mine were way better.”

Sam just rolls their eyes. “Come on, you know I can’t pick between you two. You’re both my favorite.”

Vanessa melts then, pulling Sam into a bone-crushing hug, Brooke wrapping her arms around both of them.

“I guess we’ll just split the house stuff next week,” Vanessa says.

“You mean like we already do anyway?” Brooke snorts, holding them tighter.

Vanessa just smiles. She has her family, and tomorrow is their holiday party with all their friends, and then Christmas with her family and Brooke’s family, and her smile deepens. She watches the snow fall softly outside and knows this will be the best Christmas ever.

Tags: rpdr fanfiction, Branjie, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, athena2, lesbian au, fluff, concrit welcome, ficmas 2020, day 8: list, submission

[theangelmojo]

4am Wiki Adventures

I typed “Lord Byron” into Wiki. Don’t ask me why. Those early morning hours, you know.

And I knew stuff about him before, but not stuff. Not like the stuff Wiki can, so I was not prepared for the awesome of Lord Byron. 

This guy’s insane, like, he is The King of Le Drama. The biggest drama-llama to ever ding-dong, I stg. He takes extreme to a whole new level. Like, you know those posts where they go “well that escalated quickly”, he is that. 

So I have some facts I’d like to share. Random facts. Hilarious facts. Facts that are totally unnecessary and unimportant to know, but are the thing I am probably gonna think about for the next solid week. 

Hold onto your hats, folks, we’re in for a long ride. 

1. His father was a douche. Only married women for their money, bled them for that money, stuck babies in them and then ditched them. What an asshole.

2. He had Issues with his mom, who was understandably depressed because of her asshole husband, and reportedly called her “short and fat” (assholery is genetic, probs). In return she had Issues with him, but also spoilt him and is part of the reason Byron is well known for being stupid with his money (also genetic, probs). 

THIS CONTINUES FOR A WHILE, SO I’LL PUT THIS UNDER THE CUT TO SPARE YOUR DASH, SORRY

3. He started falling in love with people at a reaaaaally young age. Like, whoa son, steady on chap. His first crush was a distant cousin (Mary Duff) at the age of 8, who he then forgot about till he turned 16 and found out she was gonna get married. Then he remembered her and was like oh heck, how will my heart go on and wrote a big paragraph about it, wherein he acknowledged the fact that his feelings were ridiculous but nevertheless intense and true. 

4. That one wasn’t a sexual love though, apparently, but he also acknowledges that he started developing shall we say certain ‘cravings’ at a considerably young age. He claims this is partly the reason why he writes like he does. In his own words: “Perhaps this was one of the reasons that caused the anticipated melancholy of my thoughts — having anticipated life.”

5. At this point there are a bunch of people who want to claim that his, how shall we put it, ‘young sexual awakening’?? is the reason for his “sexual propensities”. Like, no dude, he’s just bi. Accept it.

(I’d like to cut in here and say that the next fact made me very sad. Very very sad. 4am Me was not prepared for the sudden hit of sadness and started sniffling a lot. Prepare yo’self.)

6. There are reports that he was sexually abused as a kid. One of his abusers was one of his caretakers, Mary Gray, who was later dismissed when he turned 11. She also used this abuse as a way of keeping him silent about the bad company she kept. I mean like, holy shit, that is such a nasty bitch. My god, I hate reading about stuff like this. (4am in the morning and I whimpered “poor baby” to myself, blinking through tears) Then this guy called Lord Gray De Ruthyn, who was also one of his mother’s suitors, also forced himself on Byron. The poor little guy was “deeply disturbed by this” (no shit) and apparently never told his mom, which in hindsight is probably part of the reason for his Issues with her. My god, this guy was so destined to be an angst-writer. Jesus Christ. 

And then some asshole historians or god knows who have the audacity to suggest that these events led to him having sexual liaisons with men at college like what the fuck. How many times do you have to say “he was bi” till it gets through their fucking skulls mother of god --

Moving on.

7. Onto the more interesting and hilarious facts. His first male loves were found at Harrow, where he found a fondness for a bunch of lads, all named John. John FitzGibbon, John Thomas Claridge, John Edleston, John Cam Hobhouse. Must have been real confusing trying to navigate all these Johns, but one thing he knew for sure is that he definitely likes boys too. 

8. Proof of him liking them boys is him pouring all his fucking money on them. This guy was such a freaking Sugar Daddy. Jesus. He left £7000 in his will to a 14 year old boy he met in Athens who taught him Italian. I mean, the sum of money got cancelled, but still. Come on, By. This isn't even the only time he shoved his money at a guy, no siree, but we’ll get to that part later.

9. The most likely reason he left England was because of his reportedly incestuous relationship with his half-sister Augusta Leigh. Ugh. Okay, this one grossed me out, but he like, had children with her too, apparently. Around this time he also got married to Annabella Millbanke and had a kid (Ada Lovelace!!) with her, but their marriage was too shit and she thought he was insane so she left him. All this scandal forced him to leave due to all the rumours circulating, plus the fact that he was majorly in debt too at the time. No surprise there.

10. Once he left England, he never came back. He went to Belgium. Then to Switzerland, where he met another John -- John William Polidori, who became his physician, and there he also befriended Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Mary Shelley (née Godwin). He had another affair with another lady, this time Clair Clairmont, who was Mary’s stepsister. Got her pregnant too. 

11. This lovely bunch of drama-llamas then got rained in, and due to the shitty weather they were stuck indoors for 3 days. During this time they read a bunch of cool horror stories, which then inspired them to write their own. Yes guys, this is where Frankenstein was born, but not only that -- John William Polidori also wrote The Vampyre (with a Y) which is The Start of the romantic vampire genre. That’s right folks -- thanks to this guy, we have Twilight. (But in all honesty, his story is far better, go check it out.)

12. Byron is super clever. No surprise there, but an example of this is that he learnt the Armenian language and culture well enough over a couple years to write books on it. He was passionate about Armenian culture and history, dude, like he proper went for it, and his writings and teachings inspired a wave of Armenian poets and writers. Not bad, Byron. Not bad.

13. Dude falls in love every-freaking-where, and not casual love, oh no -- he falls madly in love every fucking time. Where does he get the energy? God only knows. This time he falls for this 18 year old Countess, Teresa Guiccioli, and ends up eloping with her. Thing is, she’s married. (Byron NO)

14. Byron likes animals to the degree that Damian Wayne likes animals (sorry for the Batman reference, but I can’t help it, it’s who I am), ergo: he loves them. In one of Shelley’s letters, he describes the house as such: “Lord B.’s establishment consists, besides servants, of ten horses, eight enormous dogs, three monkeys, five cats, an eagle, a crow, and a falcon; and all these, except the horses, walk about the house, which every now and then resounds with their unarbitrated quarrels, as if they were the masters of it… [P.S.] I find that my enumeration of the animals in this Circean Palace was defective… I have just met on the grand staircase five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane.” Get on that, Dami. You’ve got a long way to go to reach this level.

To add to this fact, he also had a Newfoundland dog called Boatswain (???) who he loved so much that when the animal contracted rabies, he nursed him “without any thought or fear of becoming bitten and infected.” (cue: 4am Me hysterically sobbing about this). Also, even though he was in debt at the time, Byron commissioned a funerary monument to be built for Boatswain at Newstead Abbey, which was the only building work which he ever carried out on his estate. The thing was bigger than his own grave, and in his 1811 Will (what is this guy with Wills), he requested that he be buried with him. Also, he wrote a 26‐line poem called "Epitaph to a Dog" in honour of Boatswain. That is some serious dog-love there, you have to give him that, and as I said before: he never falls casually in love, only ever madly.

ANOTHER THING. I’m just gonna quote this straight from Wiki cos I can’t put it any better: “Byron also kept a tame bear while he was a student at Trinity, out of resentment for rules forbidding pet dogs like his beloved Boatswain. There being no mention of bears in their statutes, the college authorities had no legal basis for complaining. Byron even suggested that he would apply for a college fellowship for the bear.” Byron, my man, that is So Extra. (“What’s that? I can’t have a dog here? Well, no problem, I’ll just get a bear.” “BYRON, Byron what the fuck. Where did you even get a bear? Bears aren't indigenous to England.” “He’s very intelligent. Loves to read. Heck, lemme get him enrolled here.” “Byron what the fuck.”)

15. Skipping ahead a little, he ends up in Genoa, right, and gets Bored. Probably because of lack of pets. Possibly because he’s not Fallen Madly In Love with anyone recently, though he’s still technically ‘with’ the Countess, let’s be real -- this boy isn't good with commitment. So, he gets bored and this is where he starts getting involved with the movement for Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire. He realises he still has his lady with him but cannot join this military movement whilst she’s still around, so he ends up shipping her back to her dad (dick move, Byron). 

Then this guy called Edward Blaquiere tries to recruit him, and Byron realises he has no fucking clue what he’s meant to be doing. In his own words: "Blaquiere seemed to think that I might be of some use-even here;-though what he did not exactly specify". Get it together, Byron, FFS. He boards a ship called Hercules (ha ha) to go to Greece, and the poor Countess lady weeps while waving him goodbye, but then Hercules has to return to port, so that dramatic farewell wasn’t nearly as dramatic as he’d probably been hoping for. Oh well.

Moving on -- 

(-- okay, to be honest, I kind of glossed over the whole part with his involvement in the war. I mostly picked out the parts that stood out to my 5am Brain, which were mostly to do with money or the boys he was eyeing. No offence meant in the way I’ve interpreted things. I fully blame the fact that I should have stopped reading Wiki five hours ago, but didn’t, and also I have a dumb sense of humour.)

16. Byron chucks money at the Greeks. Where did he get this money? No one knows, but he gives the Souliots £6000. Then, to be fair, he gets fed up of them asking for more and more money. He cuts off the Souliots and tells them to get stuffed. 

At some point he sells his estate, Rochdale Manor in Scotland, which gets him some £11,250, which means Byron has something like £20,000 altogether, all of which he plans on giving to the Greek cause. “In today's money Byron would have been a millionaire many times over, and the news that a fabulously wealthy British aristocrat known for his generosity in spending money had arrived in Greece made Byron the object of much solicitation in a desperately poor country like Greece.” Byron, old chap, that is super generous of you but what the fuck. I kept thinking to myself, reading this, what the fuckkkk?? Like, the cockles of my heart were warmed, but my brain couldn't comprehend it. May I remind you, he got into this because he was B O R E D, and now he’s throwing all his money at this ??? What even a r e  y o u  B y r o n ? ? ?

I don’t mean to make any judgements here, but this is then where Byron draws some Attention to himself again. Throwing all this money around -- it’s no surprise that suddenly all the different Greek factions start to fight over him, and in my 5am Brain, all I could see was Byron being like “kids, pls, stahp” and getting all exasperated with it. In Wiki’s much better written words: “he complained that the Greeks were hopelessly disunited and spent more time feuding with each other than in trying to win independence.”

17. As a little ‘aside’, whilst all of this is happening, Byron falls in love. Again. Madly. To another boy. This time his Greek page, Lukas Chalandritsanos, who he spent some £600 (equivalent to about £24,600 in today's money) over the course of six months on, and wrote his last poems about his passion for. Holy hell, Byron, control yourself please. And then Wiki slams down the coldest line to all this drama and goes: “but Chalandritsanos was only interested in Byron's money” -- and I’m sorry, I almost peed myself laughing. Omg Byron, that is cold. 

18. Spoiler alert: Byron dies young. He dies at 36, just before setting sail on an expedition. On 15 February 1824, he falls ill and then, my friends, comes the usual, in the form of the typical historical medical fuck-up remedy of bloodletting. When I read this I legitimately SMH, because how many books have I read where they use bloodletting to try to cure someone and SHOCK HORROR, it ends up killing them? Poor guy gets made worse by it, makes a partial recovery, but then catches a violent cold which then more therapeutic bleeding (insisted on by his doctors) ends up making worse. It is suspected that this treatment, carried out with unsterilised medical instruments, may have caused sepsis, and then he dies. 

Sometimes, looking back on historical medicine and treatment methods... I realise how lucky we are nowadays, to know better. Things like this also remind me that despite how much I’d like to go back in time to see history and stuff, it’s probably not a good idea. Not only because of this, but also the lack of plumbing. And hygiene. And sanitation. And wifi -- omg no internet, no thank you.

19. So, to end it all, Byron’s English friends are shocked to hear he’s died, and his Greek friends all mourn him as a hero. 

20. Now, to describe how Byron looks... according to Wiki, he was: “5 feet 8.5 inches (1.74 m), his weight fluctuating between 9.5 stone (133 lb; 60 kg) and 14 stone (200 lb; 89 kg). He was renowned for his personal beauty, which he enhanced by wearing curl-papers in his hair at night.” Ha ha ha, ha... 

Then he’s also famous for having Foot Issues, namely a deformity of his right foot. Whether he’s clubfooted, a consequence of infantile paralysis, or dysplasia -- what’s agreed is he had Foot Issues. The Foot gave him a limp, and “caused him lifelong psychological and physical misery, aggravated by painful and pointless "medical treatment" in his childhood and the nagging suspicion that with proper care it might have been cured.” At this point, in my head I went ‘awww, poor baby’, and felt sorry for him (I still do), but then I read on, and.

Byron was his usual Byron-like self about it, so I couldn't help but giggle.

Firstly, he nicknamed himself ‘le diable boiteux’ (French for "the limping devil", also the nickname given to Asmodeus by Alain-René Lesage in his 1707 novel of the same name). 

Secondly, although he often wore specially-made shoes in an attempt to hide The Foot, he refused to wear any type of brace that might improve The Limp. Byron, seriously, wear the brace. A Scottish novelist (John Galt) said he felt his oversensitivity to the "innocent fault in his foot was unmanly and excessive" because the limp was "not greatly conspicuous". 

[He first met Byron on a voyage to Sardinia and did not realise he had any deficiency for several days, and still could not tell at first if the lameness was a temporary injury or not but by the time he met Byron he was an adult and had worked to develop "a mode of walking across a room by which it was scarcely at all perceptible". The motion of the ship at sea may also have helped to create a favourable first impression and hide any deficiencies in his gait, but Galt's biography is also described as being "rather well-meant than well-written", so Galt may be guilty of minimising a defect that was actually still noticeable]

Byron. Oh Byron. I feel sorry that he was so self-conscious of his foot deformity, don’t get me wrong, but I can’t help but also giggle imagining him doing all this. It’s so dramatic. This boy. 

In short, simply from reading the Wiki article on Lord George Gordon Byron, I feel incredibly fond of, exasperated by, entertained by, and confused by this hugely influential, incredibly dramatic and complex historical figure.

I already love reading poems and quotes by him, but knowing more about him now... I am also inspired by him. Even from just a Wiki article, even from just reading this one source about his life at a questionable time of night -- I feel like I understand better why people have coined the term “Byronic hero” in honour of him. 

[The Byronic hero presents an idealised, but flawed character whose attributes include: great talent; great passion; a distaste for society and social institutions; a lack of respect for rank and privilege (although possessing both); being thwarted in love by social constraint or death; rebellion; exile; an unsavory secret past; arrogance; overconfidence or lack of foresight; and, ultimately, a self-destructive manner. These types of characters have since become ubiquitous in literature and politics.]

I see Byronic heroes all over the place. In all my fandoms, in all walks of life. From the classic Heathcliff to the likes of the Hunchback of Notre Dame (sobs), to The Phantom of the Opera (sobs), to Lestat from Interview with a Vampire, to Batman (LOLs), to fucking Edward Cullen from Twilight (gags).

The drama-llama lives on in all types of characters, in so many fictional worlds. As someone who lives to read and loves to write, I am completely unsurprised that stumbling across a Wiki page such as his has moved me so deeply, because in so many ways it was like reading a fanfic (albeit the driest, flattest fanfic I’ve ever read in my life). In so many ways I saw so many of my favourite characters written in his life, and by golly, it’s just fantastic to think that he actually lived in our world, isn't it? To think that and know that is both wonderful and strange. 

So, without anything left to add to this long, ridiculous post, I apologise for rambling on about a dead poet and contributing absolutely no new information to what is already known about him. I am aware all I’m doing is regurgitating old facts and basically oohing and ahhing over them, like an idiot. All I can say is I’m glad for Wiki, and Jesus Christ, I’ve got to start going to bed earlier than this. 

Auf wiedersehen.