#she figured that was a bit too far

[trentonsimblr]

Lord Evan Donovan Ingebretson, Duke of Nevera (Druzar)

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 32

PREV

He had the first week back from Thanksgiving break off from both classes and practice.

The week off of classes leaves FF feeling like getting stabbed has been a net positive experience for him.

First he feels like it really cemented the apparent friendship he had with at least Andrew and Neil. Second, he technically had a job offer in his Freshman year. Third, and most important, his language professor who had wanted him to come and speak to his gen-ed Latin class of over 100 students told him not to worry about it and that he had gotten one of FF’s friends to agree to the presentation instead.

His relief was so immediate and all-consuming that he hadn’t even had the energy to pretend he was upset that he had been replaced. Thankfully his teacher just chalked it up to relief that he wouldn’t have to stand up and present when his stomach was healing from the surgery.

Coach Wymack and Abby wouldn’t even let him go to the Court. Kevin had tried to argue quite a few times on Sunday when that decision had been made. Argued that he could sit in and watch for strategy purposes if nothing else.

However, even Kevin couldn’t guarantee that FF wouldn’t get accidentally run into / knocked against considering his complete lack of presence.

Matt had rushed into Abby’s house having made a bee-line for it upon reaching the airport.  “Smiths! You got stabbed!” Matt yelled as if informing him of his own predicament.

“Yeah.” FF agreed as if it were something that could have been debated.

“What happened?! Nicky just sent a pic of the flowers he got you and the card?” Matt had asked pulling his backpack off his shoulder and to his front as he unzipped it and rooted around for something before pulling out an orange envelope. “This is from me and Dan, you remember her right?” Matt had asked.

FF thought of quiet conversations he has overheard over the phone and not so quiet noises Matt makes when engaging in some phone sex with his girlfriend.

“Yes, I remember Dan.”  FF had said diplomatically and accepted the card.

The card was sitting on the nightstand at Abby’s house next to the card the Monsters, his grandma, other teammates, and some cards from friends he had made outside of Exy. It feels nice to look at the multiple cards all wishing him well.

His Grandma was going to stay for two weeks and Abby was being incredibly kind to put them up

He spent most of that week sleeping, spending time with his grandma, getting yelled at by Abby for trying to do chores, and spending time with the Foxes that came to visit him.

Nicky had come over to hang out every day without fail. Most of the upperclassmen who were on the original ‘miracle’ team of the Foxes stopped in to see him regularly. Even Jack stopped in to complain about how Captain Neil presented a danger to the rest of them before giving him a Get Well Soon card and leaving.

It was a strangely thoughtful card that he’s near positive Jack’s girlfriend picked out for him. When the end of the week and the first game that FF would need to sit out from approached Coach Wymack asked if he wanted to come.

“You can’t play, but you’re still a Fox.” Wymack had said and his grandma had encouraged him to go and spend time with his friends. She’d hold down the fort for Abby, cook up a bunch of food for the the team to enjoy when they got back late.

So FF climbed onto the bus and sat next to Nicky who had declared himself FF’s bodyguard for the evening who’s safety he would only pass off to Coach Wymack during the game proper.

***

They’ve come so damn far from the worst team in the Division. His kids are thriving and because of that he’s gotten a larger budget. A larger budget to better help his kids with. David would be lying if he said he didn’t spend some nights wishing he could tell himself of a few years ago just how good it would get.

Still, the match is a lot closer than it should be.

He looks to his side and sees FF sitting there watching the game with rapt attention.

He looks as Sheena fumbles a pass that his newest problem child had mastered the timing of a month before. He sees Kevin’s shoulders go up in anger but Neil’s quick reflexes save it before the play is fully fumbled.

Neil makes a feint to pass to Kevin and the goal lights up putting them in the lead by 2 goals. David thinks of the numerous plays that would have gone smoother with the kid next to him playing instead of Sheena but there was no point in wishing for things that couldn’t be.

FF wouldn’t be playing until the Spring Championships started up and David would need to address FF’s medical hiatus and Lisa’s ‘family emergency’ that had her leaving the team.

It always stung when a Fox left but it hurt less when it was of their own volition instead of in a body bag.

He looks to the side again and thinks of the numerous decisions he had needed to make as Kevin slept in the car on the way to the hospital. Honestly, if he still was thinking about going after the hospital.

How the fuck did the hospital just leave the damn kid in a hallway for over an hour? He hates the thought of FF laying there in pain and bleeding watching as people went by.

He’s grateful that the kid didn’t seem to remember it.

He wasn’t going to mention it to any of the other Foxes, not even FF if he could swing it. He has no doubt that at the very least Andrew and Neil would go on a rampage and he’s near positive that Kevin would take special delight in it considering a week on he was still bitching about what he had seen in the Nutritionist office.

He’s not sure what Nicky would do but he knows it’d give him a headache.

Nicky takes a hard hit that has him subbed out for one of the freshman backliners. Nicky’s a little woozy and Abby confirms a very slight concussion that she’ll keep an eye on during the trip back.

They win by slimmer margins than they should but it’s to be expected.

“Coach Wymack?” FF asks.

“What’s up?” David asks.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom. It...uh...well it takes a while now.” FF says and David can read the embarrassment.

“Meet us at the bus. Be careful.” he orders.

FF nods and heads off.

Neil and Matt are on press duty and David preps the press to let them know about FF and Lisa. There are some questions about what kind of medical hiatus but David declined to answer knowing that Neil and Matt wouldn’t let it slip either.

His last two players get showered and on the bus.

He does a count and gets the correct number and starts the bus.

They’re just about to get on the highway when there’s a shout, “Wait! Where’s Smithy?!” Nicky exclaims full volume over the general conversation that had been going on throughout the bus.

David frowns, he had counted-

Abby. He had counted Abby’s head next to Nicky.

“Oh god dammit.” he says.

***

FF looked at where the bus should have been waiting for him.

He closes his eyes and hopes that the bus will appear between blinks. 

He opens his eyes again and finds...nope just fans milling about heading to their own cars and home. He gives a hopeful look across the parking lot wondering if the bus maybe just got moved back somewhere so that they could get out easier after he went and made them wait?

A lot of people. Some kids. Some disappointed Belmonte fans. Some excited Fox fans. Some general Exy fanatics who were discussing what the Belmonte team would need to do to stay in  for the Spring Championships.

No Palmetto State Fox team bus.

He swallows a bit of disappointment and moves past it.

He pulled up his phone to plug in Abby’s house and saw that it would be a 4 day hike from Belmonte. He looked down at his shoes contemplating if they’d make the over 300 miles of walking. The doctors and Abby had been very clear not to do too much exercise but surely it wouldn’t count since he was just going to walk? They said walking was fine right?

FF sighed at the thought.

Yeah, it wasn’t going to work.

His stomach hurts at the thought of a 5 hour car ride. Maybe there was a bus station nearby and he could make his way back via greyhound.

He was looking at his phone again when it started to ring and Nicky’s face was on his screen to let him know who the caller was.

He hit the answer button, “Hello-“

There was an inhale and FF had been on the receiving end of this quite a few times at this point so he held his phone the entire length of his arm away from his ear, “SMITHY, ARE YOU ON THE BUS OR DID WE FORGET YOU?!” Nicky screeches and it hurts his ears even from an entire arms length away. He wonders how in the world Nicky can stand being that loud with his minor concussion.

He stares at his phone dubiously for a few moments, worried that Nicky may shout again.

“Smithy?! Smithy?” He hears Nicky’s not quite as loud but very concerned voice. FF decides to bite the bullet.

“Hello Nicky, I am not on the bus.” He says.

“We fucking LEFT SMITHY!” Nicky yells and FF can hear a collective groan from across the line.

He may even hear Coach Wymack yelling something about ‘again’ and feels shame burn in his stomach. He should have just held in his pee. He hadn’t really needed to go that badly and it’s not like Coach Wymack doesn’t take bathroom breaks.

“It’s okay.” He rushes to assure Nicky. “I can…grab a bus or something. You don’t need to come back, I’m-“

“Young man, if you say that you’re fine I can not be held responsible for what I will do when I see you in the next 20 minutes.” Nicky threatens. “I also can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to Neil since I feel like he’s infected you somehow.” He says.

He hears a distant “Hey” followed by an even more distant “Man, I hate to say it but I think he’s right.”

“I don’t want to bother you.” He says.

“Smithy, you are so far from a bother it is insane. How about I stay on the line with you okay?” Nicky asks but something has caught his eye.

Two kids haven’t moved as the rest of the world continued to. He watched as they clung to one another and no one seemed to take notice of them. He doesn’t understand how anyone could miss them with the bright orange children’s jerseys they had on. One sporting 01 - Josten and the other 10 - Josten on the backs.

“That’s okay Nicky. Call me when you’re close.” He says and makes his way over.

He can see the little boy’s hand holding the little girl’s hand tightly and is careful to walk around them in a way so that he wouldn’t appear out of nowhere. “Hey,” he squatted down to their height and the little boy still jumped slightly, dropping a small book to the ground, and the little girl hid her face in his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just noticed you looked a little lost.” He says and his muscles won’t pull in a way to offer a reassuring smile but he hopes he can convey it through his tone.

The little boy visibly swallows down nervous spit, “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” He says holding on tighter to the little girl.

“Smart, continue to do that.” He says immediately, “Can you just nod yes or no for me?” He asks instead.

The boy thinks for a long moment before nodding affirmatively.

“Great, good job.” He says, “Did you come to the stadium with your parents?” He asks

A nod in the affirmative.

“Do your parents know where you are?” He asks.

He shakes his head in a negative.

“Are you lost?” He asks.

Another negative.

“So you mean to be right here?”  He wants to clarify.

A nod in the affirmative this time.

FF takes a moment to piece together what he knows and looks down at the book.

An autograph book. “Oh, you wanted to get an autograph from Captain Neil?” he asks.

The little boy looks up but it’s the little girl who answers. She finally takes her face out from his shoulder. FF’s eyes can’t help but see the large burn scar on her cheek but also see how her eyes sparkle with delight, “You know Captain Josten?!” she exclaims in delight.

“Millie!” The young boy says. “He’s a stranger!” he hisses.

“Nu-uh!” she shakes her head, “Number 14!” she points at his jersey he had worn in solidarity. “He passes to Captain Josten!” she says brightly. “See Brandon?” she smiles.

It could just be a fan jersey though FF highly doubts that anyone would buy fan merch for him. He is no Kevin Day, Captain Neil Josten, or Andrew Minyard.

Still the little boy, Brandon, looks at him with wide eyes, “You’re Smith?” he asks.

“Yeah.” FF nods, “Captain Neil is my Captain.” he says.

“I love Captain Josten! I wanna marry him!” Millie says and FF can’t help but wonder if Andrew would squash such adorable competition. “His face is like mine!” she giggles.

“Yeah, your face is as cool as Captain Neil’s is.” FF agrees with completely sincerity.

“We came out here to get Captain Josten’s signature” Brandon says with a pout, “All the adults were in the way and it was...kind of scary.” he admits with a flush.

A thought occurs to him. He doesn’t want to leave these kids and brave the crowds to find someone to announce the lost kids. It would only be about 12 more minutes before the bus comes. Coach Wymack would be able to help and...

“They’re coming to pick me up pretty soon. How about we stay right here and we can get Captain Neil’s autograph together?” he asks.

Both kids light up at the idea. “Really?” they both ask.

“Yeah, I also want Captain Neil’s autograph.” he says because he does. He’s wanted Captain Neil’s autograph for AGES but had been too awkward to ask. Then Greg had come and made it seem like FF would want it just to sell it or something.

Now he has the perfect excuse.

***

David pulled into the spot he had left almost half an hour ago and barely managed to put the bus into park before most of his more senior players were prying the door open to go look for FF.

Nicky had called but FF hadn’t picked up and it had set his more paranoid players’ teeth on edge.

The only one that stayed on the bus was Nicky since Abby had a firm grip on him.

David sighed and told everyone else to stay put before exiting the bus and began the herculean effort of trying to spot FF in a crowd.

It actually wasn’t too hard as he found his players standing and watching as FF crouched with his back to them as two little kids in orange Fox jerseys were re-enacting something for him.

He’d be tempted to let them keep going if he didn’t remember Abby’s list of specific things FF shouldn’t do with his still healing stomach and squatting like that was definitely on the list.

“Smith.” he says and watches as the Freshman jolts and tips over, thankfully onto his side, from his squatted position.

The kids get nervous when they see him but then their eyes both lock on Neil’s face. For a moment his heart aches for his player, plenty of kids have cried about Neil’s scars but then his eyes land on the little girl’s face more properly and...

Oh...

Those are stars in her eyes. David looks at the two different Josten kids jerseys that the Palmetto store had released.

FF recovers from his tumble admirably, “Coach Wymack,” he says getting up onto his feet. “These two are lost, can you see if there’s a way to contact their parents?” he asks.

David nods and pulls out his phone and steps away slightly.

He watches over the interaction that happens next.

**

As promised, FF had taken the awkward lead of asking for it and had them form a line. It had been weird but he watched as understanding dawned in Captain Neil’s eyes as he saw the two Josten jerseys. It had felt even less weird to get Captain Neil’s autograph when Matt had jokingly gotten in line behind Brandon because he too wanted Captain Neil’s autograph.

FF felt a little bad that Captain Neil had been so flustered by the requests but at least he finally had the Captain Neil autograph he’d wanted since last March. It also felt nice when Captain Neil had smiled the way he did at Millie when she babbled about how they matched.

Andrew had bumped into him in the way that FF was learning meant that he was pleased with whatever FF had just done. Kevin and Aaron had been the ones to ask if his stitches were okay after his startled tumble.

Millie and Brandon’s parents were incredibly grateful and swore to continue to be lifelong fans of the Foxes. Millie and Brandon themselves had been more excited about their Captain Neil Josten autographs than being reunited with their parents. They had waved goodbye with Millie loudly proclaiming that her and Captain Neil would get married someday.

Climbing onto the bus he was subjected to a check over by Abby when both Kevin and Aaron dragged him to her. Then he was sat down next to Nicky who shoved him into the window seat and cuddled up. “I won’t lose track of you if I’m on you.” was his logic.

The bus ride resumed.

“I didn’t know you liked kids.” Nicky says head on FF’s shoulder. “I’ve watched you go to the other side of the street to avoid middle school kids.” he adds.

FF feels ice in his stomach.

“Middle school kids are mean.” FF says and doesn’t properly answer the question but Nicky is just concussed enough to not call him on it.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Like I said in my last part I will be tagging people separate from the actual update going forward. Still any requests to be added to the tag list feel free to put in the replies here.

[stardestroyer81]

It's true— she told me herself! 💞

(Blank template under the cut!)

[wonder-worker]

"[Elizabeth Woodville's] piety as queen seems to have been broadly conventional for a fifteenth-century royal, encompassing pilgrimages, membership of various fraternities, a particular devotion to her name saint, notable generosity to the Carthusians, and the foundation of a chantry at Westminster after her son was born there. ['On other occasions she supported planned religious foundations in London, […] made generous gifts to Eton College, and petitioned the pope to extend the circumstances in which indulgences could be acquired by observing the feast of the Visitation']. One possible indicator of a more personal, and more sophisticated, thread in her piety is a book of Hours of the Guardian Angel which Sutton and Visser-Fuchs have argued was commissioned for her, very possibly at her request."

-J.L. Laynesmith, "Elizabeth Woodville: The Knight's Widow", "Later Plantagenet and Wars of the Roses Consorts: Power, Influence, Dynasty"

[gothoffspring]

had to mess around w/the lizardman mod, what do we think? 🦎🌈

dress: @serenity-cc / tights: @mmoutfitters / shoes + belt: @trillyke / earrings: @bellassims / necklace: @nucrests x @simgguk / eyes: @moonchildlovesthenight / ribbon bracelet: @sadlydulcet / nails: @lynxsimz

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Day Late: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

Beatrice scrambled through the rose garden, tripping over the deep gold skirts she'd worn specifically to look nice for her host. Where was Beast? He wasn't in the library, dining room, conservatory, aviary, music room, ballroom, study, parlor, billiard room, or any of the castle towers. She'd thought she'd find him brooding in a melancholy corner, awaiting her return, but she was running out of melancholy corners and beginning to get frustrated. Where could an eight-foot-tall dog-tiger-monkey man possibly hide?

The garden had changed. The usual balmy summer had become oppressively hot and humid. The roses drooped. The damp air clung to Beatrice's skin and red curls escaped her hairpins and frizzed around her face. Where were the sparkling sunshowers that kept the gardens moist? Where were the playful breezes that kept the air fresh and cool? Beatrice hadn't seen so much as a fluttering curtain to indicate the presence of an invisible servant. Everything was silent. Still. Dead.

Half-mad with anxiety, she raced down cobbled paths and across the wide lawns where she and her Beast had played so many games of croquet. Past fountains where they'd splashed each other in ferocious water battles. She trampled beds of pansies and tore holes in hedges and prayed the invisible gardener would forgive her. If Beast meant to get revenge for her delay in returning, he was doing an excellent job of it, but when--yes, when--she found him, they would have words about how a single day of waiting did not justify throwing your guest into a blind panic.

She checked every bench in the garden, navigated the entire hedge maze, and even took a raft to check the bottom of the lily pond. When she came ashore, she leapt a short hedge and found herself at the far end of the south lawn, where the lush grass gave way to rougher scrub as the palace grounds approached the surrounding woods. A creek babbled over stones, separating forest from palace, and not far from its bank, Beatrice saw a lump of tawny-striped fur covered in a familiar blue cloak.

Beatrice raced to Beast's side and found him barely conscious. His fur was dull, his eyes were glassy, and he panted in the heat. The sharp teeth sticking out of his pointed muzzle were as dry as his black nose.

Beatrice struggled to catch her breath, then gasped, "Beast! What happened?"

Beast lay curled up on his right side, legs bent to his chest like a newborn babe, while he clutched his long tail in one monkey-like hand. Softly, he said, "You broke your promise." 

How could he be so maddening? "It was one extra day! I haven't seen my family in nearly two years! I thought you could manage without falling into a melancholic decline!"

Beast squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw against some internal pain. "I told you. Three days only. Or I waste away and die."

"I thought it was a metaphor! You know how dramatic you get!"

He shook his head. "Rules of this place."

Beatrice's stomach sank. Though the sun shone hot as ever, it seemed to Beatrice as though a cloud had blocked all the light. She didn't...he couldn't...

Had she killed him for one extra day at home?

She clenched her jaw to hold back tears, furious that she was even considering wasting time by crying.

Beatrice pulled off the Beast's cloak, revealing that he was clad in the loose white shirt and rough brown trousers he typically wore in the gardens. She knelt beside him and snarled, "You can tell whoever runs this place, from me, that I am sick to death of their rules." She started loosening the shirt's laces, grinding out words with each piece of the string she yanked from the bindings. "Life imprisonment because my father stole a rose. Required daily marriage proposals. No dessert unless you eat the vegetables first. And now this!" She pulled out the entire string and threw it aside in a huff. "And worst of all, you follow those rules. You call yourself a beast, but you're just a fluffy little chicken."

Beast grimaced, and sounded apologetic as he rasped, "Not like...those rules. Law...like gravity."

Oh, was he really going to lecture over semantics when he was dying? "And that one's breakable! Haven't you heard? There are men in the south who fly in balloons. You can break any rule you want if you've got enough gumption." She grasped his muzzle in her hands and turned his head so he met her eyes. "Do you understand? You are not going to die on me."

Even though he could barely hold open his eyes, a corner of his wide mouth twitched upward. Good. He had enough life in him to laugh at her. "I'll try."

"You will do more than try." She stood and looked around wildly, desperate for something that could help. Where were those servants?

"You're just overheated," she said, willing it to be true. "Nothing to do with me. You're the one who came out here covered in fur in this eternal July."

Water. She needed water. She rushed to the creek and cupped what she could in her hands. She brought it back to him and he lapped at the scant film of droplets that she managed to hold through her mad flight. It barely dampened the tip of his tongue, yet Beatrice rushed back to the creek again, again, again, not knowing what else to do and thinking that any water was better than leaving him here to fetch other tools. Knowing him, he'd die the minute she walked away.

She babbled as she worked. He couldn't die so long as she kept him distracted, right? "It was one extra day. I didn't think you'd mind. My eldest sister has a new baby. The smiling-est thing you've ever seen. Four months old. I nearly stuck her in my bag and brought her with me. I couldn't leave so soon when there were babies."

Beast lapped weakly at the water in her hands, his eyes shut, as if merely moving his tongue was exhausting.

"My father begged me to stay," she said, desperate for him to understand. "He's gotten so old since I last saw him. I was afraid he'd be dead before I got leave for another visit."

Now Beast lay dying, and all she could do was bring sips of water. There had to be a better way to help him.

Her eyes fell on the cloak and inspiration struck. She gathered it up in deep blue folds, carried it to the bank of the stream and dunked it beneath the water. She fumbled it, dripping, into a ball against her chest, then staggered back to where Beast lay and squeezed as much water as she could over his body.

That woke him up. All his limbs jolted and his eyes opened wide.

"Good," she said with triumph, mercilessly squeezing more water from the saturated cloak. "You wake up and pull yourself together."

She squeezed the last of the water onto his tongue, then carried the cloak back to the river, shouting back to him, "You're the only dog-tiger-monkey-man thing in existence, you know. If you die, you'll be responsible for the extinction of an entire race, and you don't want that on your conscience, do you?"

She dunked the cloak back in the stream, shivering from more than the cold shock of the water. I don't want it on mine.

What if this didn't work? What if he died? Would she be set free? Could she even call such a life freedom? What would her life be without his morning grumbling and his terrible jokes? Who would listen to her ramble about the books she never finished? Or try the bread recipes she burned? How could her life have any joy, without him there to ramble through the gardens with her, or trounce her at billiards, or put up new curtains in her room, or talk about...well, everything, in a way she could with no one else?

It didn't matter because he wouldn't die. She couldn't let him.

But there were things she had to tell him.

She hefted the water-soaked cloth, struggling to gather it in her arms. "You know what I decided, in that extra day at home? It wasn't home anymore. Oh, it's nice. My family's there. Good memories. But I was homesick that fourth day. For the palace. For you." She gathered a heavy fold of the cloak against her chest while another one slipped from her grasp. "It seems that I love you. And the very next time you propose, I plan to marry you."

If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Beatrice would have looked back to see Beast's reaction. After she’d refused him five-hundred and twenty-eight times, her acceptance would be a shock. It had shocked her, that night at home, to realize how much she missed the nightly proposals, and how slim her reasons for refusal were getting. 

Behind her, Beast said weakly. "You'll...marry me?"

The cloak slipped from Beatrice's arms, and she cursed under her breath. "Yes, you overgrown throw rug, but first you have to live long enough to do it."

That was unfair. He deserved an explanation. She reached under the water for the cloak, but the current pulled bits of it just beyond her grasp.  "You’re as much a prisoner here as I am, so I can’t blame you for that anymore.  Your face is kind of endearing, now that I’m used to it. And marriage doesn’t seem so terrible now, not if it’s with you. You’re much smarter and kinder and more fun than any of the human-looking men I know. And you’re much more patient with my temper and my tongue.”  

"Beatrice."

Beast's voice, filled with awe, sounded stronger. The dousing must have done him good.

She sprawled across the bank and flailed an arm beneath the water, catching a corner of the cloak. "You’re too good of a man inside to really be a beast. You said once you had human parents, didn't you?"

"Beatrice."

The cloak slipped away again. She stuck her arm in the current, almost up to the shoulder, and snapped,  "Will you quit distracting me?"

At last, she snagged one edge in her left hand and continued, "Not that I mind if you naturally look like that. You can’t help the way you were born. But have you ever considered that it could be an enchantment? Maybe we could find a way to break it, after we’re married.”

"Beatrice, look at me."

Beatrice was offended at the hint of laughter in Beast's voice. Enchantment wasn't a completely ridiculous idea, not in a place like this.

"I know what you look like," she snapped. She rose to her knees and pulled the wet cloak halfway out of the water. "Doesn't mean you always looked like that. Maybe you're enchanted and just forgot about it."

A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. A human hand. A male hand.

Beatrice shrieked and pushed the hand away, scrambling backward along the bank like a crab. A tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired man stood over her, grinning like a madman.

Beatrice glanced wildly around. How had he gotten here? Had he come from the forest? He looked rough enough, wearing nothing but a long white nightshirt. Someone's escaped lunatic relative? Or maybe he was the true master of this place, the one who'd made all those maddening rules.

She looked to Beast for answers--except that Beast was nowhere in sight. No sign of him save the matted grass where he'd been laying a minute ago. Beast had been weak. Vulnerable. Had this stranger finished him off? Perhaps she’d run out of time, and the rules of this place had dissolved what was left of him. 

She reached further up the bank and seized a fallen branch with a thick shaft and a spray of branching twigs. Madman or mad fairy, she wouldn't go down without a fight. She hefted her weapon, pitiful as it was, with all the menace she could muster in her small form. "Stay back!"

The stranger backed away, hands held protectively before him, but his eyes sparkled with laughter. "Beatrice, don't you recognize me?"

There was something familiar in his voice, which might explain how he knew her name. Cautiously, she rose, the branch still held protectively before her, to examine him more closely. Recognition flashed like a lightning bolt. "The narcissist!"

The stranger gaped. "Excuse me?"

Beatrice examined the features. She was right. She was sure of it. She'd know those green eyes and sharp cheekbones anywhere. The clothes were different and the hair was longer, but the face was identical.  "The man with all the portraits!"

How she and Beast had laughed over those portraits, which seemed to haunt every corner of the palace, far outnumbering any other faces in the artwork. The sitter could be seen wearing military dress in the foyer, riding clothes in the library, and evening dress in the ballroom. He had posed in summer, winter, and spring, and had been painted with hunting dogs in autumn. A child version of him had even posed, sulking, next to a standing globe in a portrait hung in a back hallway. She had privately dubbed the subject a narcissist–a man with so many portraits was far too in love with his own face. 

Now the vast array of portraits made sense. He was the master of the castle, maker of the magical rules, come to deal with her now that Beast was...no, he wasn't dead.

She brandished the branch again. "What did you do with Beast?"

"Nothing. You--"

She whacked him with the branch. "I did not kill him!"

He pushed the twigs out of his face and backed away. "Beatrice, my love, please!"

She whacked him in the stomach for that one. "I am not your love."

"Then why," he gasped, doubled over and wheezing, "did you just agree to marry me?"

Beatrice froze. What did he mean? Had he overheard...?

She was missing something here.

She discarded her theories and looked at the evidence afresh. Beast dying. Beast missing. Portrait man here. Wearing shirt a lot like Beast's that was far too big for him. Talking, now that she thought of it, in a voice remarkably similar to her Beast’s. 

She threw the branch aside. "I am the biggest idiot alive!"

The man caught his breath and stood upright, grinning ear to ear. Even his smile looked a bit like Beast's. "I'd agree," he said, in Beast's velvet, teasing tones, "except that I'm still living."

Beatrice leaped toward him, flung her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and mud and rotting fur. She’d never smelled anything sweeter. "I told you that you were enchanted."

#

Beatrice sat with her Beast on the riverbank as the sun sank toward the horizon. The enchanted high summer had given way to the mellow autumn of the outside world. A castle full of servants, now visible, roamed the grounds behind them, greeting each other with joy as they celebrated the end of the enchantment, but Beatrice had yet to move from the river’s edge. She had too much to discuss with her prince. 

Her prince. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around it. His Royal Highness Prince Matteo Adriano Edmondo Nicolo, twelfth son of King Inocenzo of Bellarosa, had rejected a fairy’s marriage proposal, and consequently found himself cursed into the form of a beast until a woman accepted his hand in marriage. 

“Was that all it took?” Beatrice exclaimed. “You could have told me sooner!” 

Matteo laughed. “It wouldn’t have been much of a curse if I could have told you.” 

“You could have hinted!” 

“Daily marriage proposals weren’t hint enough?” 

She laughed, acknowledging his point. “What a pair we make–a girl too dense to accept a prince’s proposal and a prince obnoxiously in love with his own beautiful face.” 

Matteo raised one of his perfect dark brows. “Why do you insist I’m vain?”

“Your royal highness, no one needs that many portraits of himself.” 

He threw his hands up in feigned distress. “I’m royal! My mother commissioned them!” 

“You didn’t need to display them so ostentatiously.” 

“You think I had a choice?” His manner suddenly became subdued. “The fae arranged that. Made it impossible to forget what I’d lost.” 

Beatrice took his human hand in hers. “I’m sorry I delayed so long.” 

He pulled her into an embrace. “I’d say you were right on time.” 

Her stomach twisted with guilt. She hadn’t been on time. 

She rested her head on his shoulder, still barely able to believe he was alive and well. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the mental image of his dying beastly form. “What if I hadn’t accepted?” she asked. “Would you truly have died?” 

She felt the rumble of his answer in her own chest. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

“Under the terms of the curse, I would remain a beast until you accepted my hand in marriage, or until you left and doomed me to death.” 

She looked up and gaped at him in amazement. “And yet you let me leave.” 

“I wouldn’t die immediately,” Matteo said, “and I couldn’t deny you the chance for happiness. So long as you returned before three days were over, neither of us would come to harm.” 

Despite the risk to himself, he had taken the chance. He had trusted her.

And she’d returned after four days. 

“I nearly killed you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” 

“I still should have come back when I promised.” 

He ran his thumb along her face. “Under the circumstances,” he said with a laugh. “I think I can forgive you for being a single day late.” 

She put her hands and his shoulders and met his gaze straight-on. “You really are far too forgiving.” 

“You saved me from my curse! I’d be worse than a beast if I refused to forgive you after that.” 

He’d left her such an easy opening. She couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. “You’re worse than a beast now, your highness. You’re not nearly so lovable without the tail."

He became strangely subdued at that.

“Beatrice,” he said at last. “Do you truly wish to marry me?” 

A natural question, perhaps, given her number of refusals. But she really wished he’d quit asking. "Of course I do. It broke your curse. What more proof do you need?"

He looked down, suddenly shy and earnest as a schoolboy. "Do you still wish it? You agreed to marry a beast, not a prince with too many portraits."

Beatrice laughed at that. She couldn’t help it. “How shallow do you think I am? If I agreed to marry you as a beast, I'm certainly not going to refuse you just because you have a little less fur."

His face eased. She was glad. She'd seen him in enough distress today. 

Another thought struck her. "Did you mean it? Do you really wish to marry me, or did you just propose to get your pretty face back?"

Matteo threw back his head and laughed. "Beatrice, darling, I've loved you since the day you tied a knot in my tail for defeating you at billiards.” 

Beatrice grinned, the last of her doubts flying away. "Then it’s settled. I'll marry you, you'll marry me, we both love each other. Does that sound right?"

Matteo pulled her in for a kiss. "That sounds like an excellent plan."

When they pulled apart, a cool wind came off of the river, and Beatrice shivered.

"I wish I had a cloak to offer you, but someone threw mine in the creek," Matteo said.

"You're terrible!" Beatrice said, but she accepted his arm and his escort back toward the palace.

As they crossed the south lawn, Beatrice said, "You know, I'll have to go back to my father's soon. Someone has to tell my family about the wedding."

Matteo nodded. "Of course. Under one condition."

She pulled away and looked up at him in exaggerated disgust. "More rules? I thought we were done with all that."

He waved a hand to dismiss her protests. "I think you'll find these conditions acceptable." He numbered his points on his fingers. "You may return if I can accompany you. And this time, you can stay as long as you like."

"That's two conditions."

"Do you object?"

Beatrice took his arm and continued walking toward the lighted palace. It was good to be home. "Not at all."

[bmpmp3]

HIMETCHI i have her in my pix rn. she likes cereal and gummies

[ultravioart]

????

So I'm trying to write out some ideas for Dominion au scenes and I guess I'm questioning what kind of humor fits Dominator? She's definitely comically evil + mean spirited so there is dark humor galore (Plus with kid cosmic using death as a punchline, lmafo it makes for some dark opportunity),

but if.... sighes, If the writers really were trying to go for the "she doesn't belong in the show" anime-op-badass "sexy bully"(<<<gags I hate this approach i hate sexy bully) archetype, I have to wonder if she's conscious of herself in situations or not. In Q&A they say she loves riot grrl but she's also fine with using a guy persona to "mess with people"?? Mess with them how? Make them double take and awkwardly scramble to treat her differently? Or make them not judge her as a (gender) but as a badass foe first and foremost regardless, and being a woman is just the cherry on top? I have to wonder if her love for the riot grrl genre includes the fundamental girl empowerment (proud to be a girl), or the "don't judge me just because I am a girl! I belong here too!" aspect. Is her perspective that she is proud to be a badass woman, or does she feel she's a badass who happens to be woman therefore women must be great? She seems to use whatever tools she has at her disposal, but also has a comedic self care routine of fluffy towels and pink guest bathrooms. So she's all out evil villain, but also has sensitivities and seemingly personal boundaries with "me-time" which doesn't read entirely as the all out off the wall destroyer, but a quirky lethal evil conqueror. It matters because like, would she be a "sexy" bully that has personal boundaries over her body, or is it all in, make the others squirm and yelp? Is she vulgar and unhinged? or does she have some kind of pride that would prevent her from "degrading" her self in her view by flirting with people she sees as losers? We have characters that have a sense of pride or a sense of boundary, which can make for good kind spirited humor too, but if Dominator really doesn't belong, it's hard to discern just how far her actions would go. basically it's one of the two: A) she embodies the "intensely evil little girl" all grown up into a fearsome villainess, playing godzilla with living toys. This is within the same vein to Hater's "spoiled brat emo prince" all grown up into a manchild rockstar tyrant personality. This means she would have some personal boundaries and sense of pride, meaning she would toy with others (flirting, teasing) but not be intensely vulgar. Fits the setting of WoY pretty well, though? Is... being pretty and mean enough to be a sexy bully archetype? Ugh Man, I hate this trope lmao. It feels gross. B) She embodies the "evil no matter what" and just happens to be a woman. she relishes in bullying others and making them squirm, wanting to destroy everything in her path. She's super unhinged and even self-destructive if not careful. No sense of sympathy for others, she just. wants. to. destroy. those puny little faces. (Cute aggression over 9,000!) And it's bleak! Yeah! ...and, lonely. Woops. This means she would be very vulgar, and not care what people think about her or her body because of course she's already perfect, she's HER. This to me reads as more so the sexy bully archetype, but ignores some semblance of her softer sides like her "...friend?" moments with Sylvia or her funny reactions to things like "what? Ew--no." which imply personal boundaries. I'm writing a whole damn essay about this because I don't want to make her too vulgar if it's ooc. But... it's seriously hard to understand what the hell the writers even meant by "sexy bully" because is that just a hot mean girl? Or a get under your skin and twist the knife just "to break your heart and watch you cry" kinda thing??? HOW FAR DOES IT GO, idk idk. Frankly I wish canon Dominator was not fanservice sultry and only sporadically "maniac pixie nightmare girl" like the VA's videos implied, because that stuff was hysterically fitting for WoY. Unhinged and unfitting of the WoY universe, but in a light goofy turning instantly heavy and dark humored way.

[whomturgled]

:^(

[silentalltheseyearsnomore]

Ehhhh session went okay with S I think. Better than what I dreaded, which was her having her wall up still and not being able to reach her and it staying like that until we end in a matter of weeks. But she was still her. I didn't get to confront her about what happened and the things we know aren't okay. But we did connect a little, talked a little about how to use these sessions, she said she wants to still be around to help after we end, wants to help us get the right therapy etc, but she is just being very careful knowing our history with therapists and she wants it to be healthy and different and okay for us both. Which we appreciate obviously even if the unknown is terrifying. Talked about the referral for specialist therapy, she is still trying to make that happen for us. But we likely will have no therapy for a while. It is not what either of us planned for but I am glad she is navigating it the best way possible to make sure circumstances dont implode our relationship. We both agreed none of this is about me, her, or our relationship, but simply circumstances and we both want that not to ruin what we built. And to do that she needs to know her limits and hold them and we need less pressure on our relationship. I mean even just the fact we don't live in a safe environment yet again makes therapy almost impossible. It's not her fault or our fault. It just is. And I'm proud of our system for managing any of it tbh, considering the extent of triggers, I am proud of us for talking about any of it, for even trying, even being alive honestly.

The most helpful bit was her talking about trust. And reenactments. And being in the present. I don't remember it as it was a mush of child parts but I do remember the sense of 💡 moments they had, and a sense of the trust being directed back inwards and in to the present rather than more outwards and in to the future. They panic so much about the future, about who still stay, what will happen, things no one can know. And something clicked today where they realised that it is them that is always questioning, not her. She just trusts. And that their constant questioning can actually make others start questioning things they're sure about in the relationship or elsewhere, and end in self fulfilling circles. So our aim is to just hold on to the transitional thing of hers that represents this trust, and try and forget all the noise and questions. She said it represents her trust in us too, it shows she believes we are worthy of this trust, and that we never see it that way around. She said we often torture ourselves with things we feel she must feel when she doesn't at all. So. Trust. Trust that even though every part of our life is in limbo and scary that each day we face what we can and then the next and things will change. Trust that right in this moment she is there, still wants to get us the right help, still wants to be around. Trust that we can still get better and have a future. Trust that things will work out and that questioning actually has the opposite effect of what we want. Trust in how people feel and their actions rather than questioning. (We can tell when someone cares deep down, we just don't believe it.) Trust in ourselves that we are trusting for good reason. Trust just today and the next day and that we will face the end of therapy when it comes and then the next thing. Jeeeeeeze. Change is hard. Trusting in the present moment is hard. I feel relieved and scared and brave and shaky all at once.

[tvrningout-a]

i'm grabbing y'all by the face and telling y'all that the alternate version of jorogumo is gonna be chiyo's mom and it's gonna be angsty as heck bc chiyo never got to know her mom and her mom never got to know her and : ))))) it's a very weird and uncomfy situation when they meet before it's actually kinda healing. but first i gotta brainstorm and develop her momma a lil more and find a fc... if anyone has suggestions, i'll take 'em uvu

[cycloplasm]

happy birthday to every bunny on the planet. here’s almost every bunny oc of mine

[oceanxveiined]

With the frequent time she spends around areas and brings tainted by/of the Abyss due to her research, it has most definitely taken a toll on her.

Physically, it has long since dulled the color of her eyes, from a brighter, almost gem-like turquoise to a murkier teal. Her scars seem all the more prominent, especially those afflicted by Abyssal monsters, even almost glowing in the presence of that energy. Her usual body aches do tend to feel a lot less painful after a spell near such places/monsters, but then the subsequent withdrawal from the energy tends to leave her more aggressive and tempered than before it, especially with how much worse her chronic pain would flare away from its influence. And that’s without mentioning the more long term effects creeping up on her, with her own lifespan and mental/emotional health being sapped away by the corrupting energies.

She is partly aware of this, but even if she knew exactly how badly this will wind up being for her, it’s not as though she would plan to stop hawking it out any time soon. If anything, it would encourage it further.

[damn-d4niel]

happy new season everyone!!!!

[wtf-amiru]

look, she's wearing real clothes

[allonzy]

i thrive off validation (hidden comments in the form of saved bookmarks in ao3)