#so her understanding of things is... maybe not comprehensive and complete. regarding both herself and other people

[dandelion-wings]

Things I should have done today: chores. Things I could have done today: worked on any of my actual WIPs. Things I did do today: write 5k of loosely-connected and wildly wandering snippets of the AU where Fredrica raises Kaeya to marry Jean, omegaverse version, because my 2024 mood is that I can do whatever I want, forever, and today I wanted to do this. I tried to pack in everything @theabysscomeshome and I have kicked around for their teenage years, and almost (if not quite) managed it!

---

Today is a rare occasion: Mother is letting Jean go out shopping with Diluc, *alone*. It's the first time she's been allowed to spend time with him without Mother's supervision since Mother and Father divorced.

Okay, 'alone' isn't quite true. Mother insisted that she take Kaeya along. But she'd given Jean the purse, and told her she was responsible, and Kaeya is so quietly obedient that she can almost forget that he's there. And that the instructions Mother has given her about looking after him are identical to the instructions she used to give regarding Barbara.

Jean won't let him replace Barbara. It would be weird if he did, wouldn't it? He's going to be her mate someday, after all, and her husband, and so he can't also be her little brother--he's just someone under Mother's care, and anyone her Mother is responsible for, Jean is responsible for as well. Even if he's the alpha and she's the omega, Jean is a *Gunnhildr*, and he isn't yet. Won't ever be one the same way that Barbara is.

The same way that Barbara *was*.

Eager for a distraction from that thought, Jean slows in front of the bookstore, pausing to survey the display in the front window. The bright cover of a romance novel catches her eye: there's no question that the woman on the cover is supposed to be Vennessa, even though she's holding a style of sword that wasn't developed for another three hundred years and everyone knows that Vennessa preferred a claymore. She's holding that sword to the throat of a muscular, short-haired woman whose Lawrence insignia is half cut away, and while the pose is aggressive, the painter has put a look in both their eyes that makes it very clear who this romance is between.

"Are you going to buy that one?" Diluc asks beside her, startling Jean from her reverie.

"Of course not." Face hot, Jean tears her gaze away. Her mother would disapprove of her using the money she'd been given for any frivolous romance, but *especially* this one. No matter how compelling Jean finds it. The cover is so well-painted, that's all, Jean tells herself--it doesn't mean she would truly enjoy the subject material, not when a Lawrence is involved.

"There's a new book from Liyue about economics," she says, scanning the other titles on display. "That sounds educational. Mother would approve if we bought it."

She marches inside to do exactly that. Before she can get to the counter, she sees Barbara, browsing hymnals in the company of a nun.

"Big sister!"

Barbara flings herself into Jean's arms, and Jean instinctively hugs her close before remembering they may have an audience. Diluc won't tell, and the nun is smiling, but she still makes herself pull away. If Kaeya sees and tells Mother....

She can't make herself pull away immediately, though. "How are you? Are you making friends at the Church?"

"I am! I'm spending time with the orphans. None of them are as much fun to spend time with as you, though. I miss you a lot."

Jean feels a pang at Barbara's innocent words. Swallowing hard, she reminds herself that she should be mature about this. She can't encourage Barbara to continue to pine for her when they're always going to live apart. "I'm sure they could be, if you give them time to get used to you. If they're orphans, they're probably shy."

"But they're not *you*," Barbara says, tears welling in her eyes. "I really wish you were there. I don't know why you had to go away. And now you have a new brother-"

"He's not my brother," Jean says, fiercer than she'd meant, and hears a sharp little inhale behind her.

She looks over her shoulder to see Kaeya, whose expression flattens as soon as she looks, and Diluc, who goes wide-eyed and grabs Kaeya's hand to pull him away. Heat tingles in her cheeks. He's *not* her brother, though, she reminds herself again, defiantly, he's her betrothed, and that's a different thing. She didn't say anything wrong, or a lie.

"Oops," Barbara whispers, staring worriedly after them. "Is- is Mother going to be mad?"

"No," Jean says, though she knows all her perfectly correct arguments won't matter in the face of being told that Jean was talking to Barbara in the first place. Her stomach sinks at the realization that Kaeya has every reason to tell. Mother will approve of him if he tells, and disapprove of Jean, and if she hurt his feelings, even though that really shouldn't have....

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Jean reaches out and squeezes Barbara's hand, doing her best to give her a reassuring smile.

"Barbara, dear, I think I've picked out a hymnal," the nun says. "Why don't we leave Miss Jean to her own shopping and check out?"

"Okay," Barbara says, reluctantly.

Jean lets go of her hand just as reluctantly, with one last squeeze, and makes sure to nod politely at the nun. "Don't let me keep you."

The nun takes Barbara's hand and hurries away to the counter, while Jean goes and searches the stacks for the economics text she'd seen in the window. She finds a few simple books for Kaeya, too, ones meant for children, which means he can probably read them. Maybe Mother will be less mad if she can prove that she was looking out for him like she was told.

Diluc and Kaeya are over in the fiction section, heads bent together, whispering furiously. Jean doesn't know what they're talking about, or which book Diluc takes to the counter, cover tucked to his chest like he's hiding it, when she's done with her purchases. He has it wrapped in brown paper before he hands it to Kaeya, who squirrels it away in his jacket with a nervous look at her.

Jean pretends not to see, and doesn't tell Mother, either, when they get home. Either that makes him decide to hold his own tongue, or Diluc bought it as a bribe in the first place, because he doesn't say anything to her about Jean's encounter with Barbara in the shop. Jean is relieved and grateful enough for his silence not to ignore him when he tugs on her arm in the hall on the way to their rooms after dinner and evening drills.

"I'm not trying to be your brother," he says softly, looking down at the floor. "I promise. I know what I'm here for, and that is isn't that. And I know that family is important, even if you can't be with them anymore. I won't... if you want to see her, I can help."

Which is a ridiculous offer. His training schedule is even stricter than Jean's, and even if he had as much free time, he doesn't know anything about Mondstadt. But some of the resentment Jean has felt all day subsides at his words. She nods, and smiles at him, and Kaeya slowly, shyly, gives her a relieved smile back.

***

Once Jean is an apprentice knight, she has more money and significantly more freedom. Spending an afternoon out with Diluc isn't as much an occasion; the apprentice knights are encouraged to spend social time together, it's why they're given twice-weekly free afternoons, so Mother can't do more than make oblique comments about who she spends them with. And having Kaeya along hasn't been an annoyance for some time now.

It's sometimes a convenience, even, when Barbara also happens to be out and about. He's better than anyone at contriving the sort of brief meetings that even Mother couldn't object to, and better yet at finding places for them to talk without prying eyes and discreet methods to get them both there. Which even Barbara, by now, agrees is far better than his strategy of his first year in the Gunnhildr household, when he kept contriving to be injured just badly enough for Jean to have to take him to the Cathedral, but not badly enough for Mother to come along.

If he and Diluc tend to duck off on their own now and then on these trips, too, Jean doesn't have room to complain. It could be a good thing. Mother might not let Kaeya get away with possessive behavior, but all the romance novels she sneaks from the Ordo library make a point of just how strong alpha instinct becomes when other alphas get too close to their mate. If they're friends before Jean and Kaeya ever marry, then Kaeya won't have to wrestle with that instinct in the first place.

She hopes, anyway. She knows better than anyone else just how much Kaeya does wrestle with the instincts that puberty is stirring in him, and that Mother's strict standards aren't the only reason they make him upset. Not to mention just *how* much he enjoys spending time with Diluc on their outings, and why.

*'If you're something other than an alpha, the Church has ways to fix it,'* she'd whispered to him, the night she'd found him crying in the bath. *'Mother isn't so cruel she wouldn't let you, if you tell her what you really are.'*

*'First I'd have to know what I am,'* Kaeya had answered, his expression twisted up in ways she didn't understand. *'All I know is what I'm not, and they can't fix *that*. Besides, I don't plan to leave you in the lurch.'*

He'd looked desperate when he said that, despite his attempt at a smile. Jean could understand. Mother wouldn't stop him from seeking the Church's services, no, but if Kaeya wasn't what she wanted him to be anymore, the well-behaved alpha mate who wouldn't try to dominate the first Gunnhildr omega in uncounted generations.... He's not a Gunnhildr yet. She'd end her guardianship of him and send him to the Church to take a place amid their orphans, or if he was lucky, to live in the Ordo dorms as a rare fostered apprentice. He wouldn't be part of Jean's family anymore.

Jean is selfish enough not to argue with his determination. She doesn't want to lose him any more than he wants to leave. That means that if whatever he *is* under all the uncertainty is someone who can look at an alpha the way he sometimes, when he thinks neither of them are looking, looks at Diluc....

They aren't married yet. He isn't her mate yet. Jean doesn't mind looking the other way and pretending she doesn't see. She just wishes for his sake that Diluc was only pretending that he hasn't noticed.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Kaeya giving Diluc just that look right now, while Diluc picks through the tailor's display of new Inazuman silks in innocent ignorance. Jean turns back to her own contemplations. There's a beautiful robe here, pale green patterned with purple cranes picked out in charming detail, that she can't resist reaching out to touch. The fabric is smooth under her fingers. She traces the line of a crane's neck, turns over the price tag, then sighs and pulls her hand away.

When she looks back again, Diluc and Kaeya are both watching her. She smiles at them, embarrassed, and puts her hands behind her back.

"Mother would disapprove, wouldn't she?"

"If she doesn't pay for it, she can't stop you," Kaeya points out. "Let her frown at you all she wants."

"It's out of my price range, anyway. I'm going to look at their hair ribbons. I could use a few new ones."

Diluc frowns, but Kaeya shrugs, turning back to the silks and commenting on one Diluc seems to have liked. Their voices fade behind as she moves across the store to the hair ribbons, and she doesn't see them again until she comes to the counter with her selections. They're just ahead of her, Diluc counting out mora as the clerk ties string around two tissue-wrapped bundles. Diluc hands the smaller one to Kaeya before smiling at her and stepping out of her way.

It's far from the first time Diluc has given Kaeya such gifts on these shopping trips. It's a generous gesture, but it's also an *alpha* gesture, a courtship gesture, the kind of kindness that has a weight from alpha to omega or alpha to beta that Diluc probably doesn't even imagine it has here. That it wouldn't, alpha to alpha, if Kaeya was the alpha that everyone thinks.

As soon as her ribbons are paid for, Jean follows them out of the shop, clears her throat, and asks, "Kaeya, can you go ahead to Good Hunter and put in our order? I'm getting hungry, but Diluc and I should stop at the cobblers and see how the new boots for the apprentices are coming along. The Grand Master will expect a report."

His eyebrow goes up, but all he says is, "Of course," before taking himself off.

"Since when is it our job to check on the boots?" Diluc asks her, baffled, though he's heading down the street towards the cobbler's even as he asks. "No one said anything to me."

"It isn't, but Mother will appreciate that we took the initiative. Besides," Jean adds, her voice dropping as they pass a fruit cart, "I wanted to talk to you alone. I think... maybe you shouldn't buy things for Kaeya anymore. I think it might be giving him ideas about- about what you want from him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jean doesn't want to confess Kaeya's crush for him, but she forges on with as good an excuse as she can muster. "Kaeya... doesn't like being in debt to people. And- and at your age- for alphas- some of the things people say to him about, um, about us, that he's mentioned or I've heard about- he might think he needs to pay you back a... certain way."

Diluc only looks more confused. "He doesn't have to pay me back at all. It's my allowance, and I like buying things for the two of you with it. He knows that. What way do you mean, anyway?"

"With- kissing, and things." Jean blushes furiously, as much at the mental image of the two of them kissing as at the other word she can't bring herself to say. "Like I said, I *know* people talk like that about... us, and his debt to the family, and he's said some things to me, so I just...."

"Oh. *Gross*. No. Why would I even want that? I'll tell him so," Diluc says firmly. "And if anyone's making him feel weird about it, I'll punch them. The same if anyone makes you feel weird about it, either."

Jean's stomach drops, but at the same time she feels a rush of relief. She doesn't want Diluc to hurt Kaeya, but it has to happen sooner or later, and better that it happen before Kaeya gets too many ideas. And this way, by blaming the gossip that she honestly has overheard, she doesn't have to give up any of his secrets to Diluc. She'll keep those safe, just like he does hers. She'll just keep this conversation secret too, while she's at it.

***

However he might feel, Kaeya is an expert at *pretending* to be an alpha. It actually helps, she thinks, that Mother has spent years drilling into him that he can't be overbearing with her. If he smiles and demurs instead of posturing, and slides his way sideways out of most attempted challenges, and doesn't say a word about anything Jean does when another omega might look to their alpha for approval, then people blame Mother and not Kaeya himself. Mother meets every criticism with a pointed reminder that all dynamics are meant to be equal in freedom-loving Mondstadt, and Kaeya meets any scorn with a smile and an exact echo of her words in a faintly sardonic tone.

In the meantime, Kaeya mimics everything that Mother wouldn't reasonably have stomped out of him with aplomb. Most of it, she can tell, Diluc has taught him. Jean doesn't know when he'd shared that particular secret, or if he even has--Diluc may simply think that he's counterbalancing Mother's repression--but he imitates Diluc's straight shoulders and fierce grin when he does have to accept a challenge, and Diluc's careful backstep to signal disinterest when he's introduced to a new omega, and Diluc's fashion of cupping his hands around her own when he gives her a gift.

Which he does now and then, now that they're dating. The dating itself is a gift, too, Jean is well aware. Kaeya's disinterest in omegas is just as real as Diluc's, and it encompasses her, isn't because of her, despite the public facade that's all that makes those other omegas believe it. But she hadn't been able to keep herself being wistful, this past Windblume, and it must have been so openly that he had caught it, because she'd found herself the recipient of a bundle of roses and the worst poem she's ever read, and he'd taken the calla lilies and heartfelt if clumsy lines of her response with a smile and a cheeky reminder that, as a captain, she could afford better than he could to pay for a dinner out.

It's the least Jean can do to thank him for bothering.

Now that they are dating, Jean tries hard not to look too closely at things she isn't going to buy these days unless she's very sure that he can't afford it any more than she can. This jewelry set, though.... It's ridiculous, heart-shaped earrings and a heart-shaped pendant, set with colored glass in exactly her favorite shade of blue. Mother would disapprove of how cheap it is even if the motif wasn't so childish. Jean couldn't possibly buy something so gauche. No matter that it's cute.

And Kaeya can't buy it for her either. Necklaces are symbolic in ways that Mother would *despise*, and this particular one, with the romantic motif, would be utterly inappropriate for an alpha to give any omega but their mate. Even one they're betrothed to.

"What are we looking at?" Kaeya pokes his head over her shoulder just as Jean had expected, leaning in close. Jean enjoys the press of his shoulder against hers, and the brush of his breath on her cheek; that he means nothing by it doesn't mean that she can't take pleasure in it, so long as she doesn't discomfit him by letting it show. "Oh, that's pretty."

"I can't imagine where I would wear it, though. Mother would have a fit, and it wouldn't be appropriate on missions. It wouldn't be worth the mora."

Kaeya sighs against her ear, and it takes all Jean has not to shiver. "You don't have to talk yourself out of anything you think you want too much, you know."

"I just don't want it that much, that's all. There's no need to blow things out of proportion. And don't buy me a necklace you can't give me," Jean adds in warning. "You know how Mother would react."

"Yes, I know." Kaeya chuckles and leans back again, and Jean fights down a pang at the loss of his weight against her shoulder. "Sister Barbara! fancy seeing you here. You wouldn't happen to know how Sir Taute is holding up, would you? Jean's been worried."

Which is, if not a lie, *mostly* an untruth--Jean knows Taute is fine--but she grasps eagerly for the excuse, turning to smile at Barbara. "Yes, I would like to know."

"Let's step aside, for her privacy," Barbara says, in a cue Kaeya has long since taught them both, and smiles back at Jean as she leads her aside for a private conversation.

It doesn't occur to Jean how much of a distraction that was until hours later, when Kaeya stops her on the front porch to cup her hand and set a small box into it. Jean opens her mouth to scold him, then closes it again when she opens it. She had only told him not to buy her the necklace, after all.

"I still don't know where I'll wear them," she protests, resisting the urge to clutch the little box with its heart-shaped earrings to her chest.

"You can wear them on missions if you pass the Grand Master's uniform test. Which you should ask to take anyway. Half of your earrings dangle, and I know you wish you could wear those more often. You'll pass it with flying colors if you do."

Jean swallows down a sudden surge of emotion and puts the lid very carefully back on the box before smiling back up at Kaeya. "Maybe I will. Thank you, Kaeya."

"You're welcome."

He leans down and brushes his lips against hers in a familiarly chaste kiss, one that sends a thrill through her nonetheless. Jean takes a deep breath, taking in the rich spice-edged fruitiness of his scent, which seems to grow stronger every day. Then she pulls back before she can give into the urge to try and coax more out of him than he wants to give.

She doesn't comment on the second box she feels briefly through his jacket while they're pressed close. Kaeya may be an expert at pretending to be an alpha, eschewing jewelry for more prominent displays of ornate clothes and ornamented hair, but he ought to be allowed to experiment in private without Jean's prying. All her dreams of buying him whatever he *does* like most founder on the realities of their situation, so perhaps it's better if she doesn't know what he spends his mora on when she's not there.

Just as she shouldn't dream of a necklace to go with the earrings, and a claim he wouldn't want to make even if he dared.

***

Mindful as she is of Mother's disapproval, Jean does take advantage sometimes of having her own money to buy things that she knows Mother would never have let her spend her allowance on. The romance novels in particular. It's been years since she's had to skim them quickly in the shop or sneak them out of the Ordo library. Now she can buy them herself, at her discretion.

As long as she has good enough cause. Mother may not object aloud anymore, but Jean can still hear her voice in her head when she indulges too frivolously in some luxury she doesn't deserve.

This week, what she doesn't deserve is a beautiful first edition, with gilt edging on the pages and the author's signature on the frontispiece, of one of her favorite romance novels. She already owns a copy of the book, so it's an utterly self-indulgent purchase, but she'd thought she might have been able to earn it for herself anyway if only her company had come first in the survival games Grand Master Varka has decided the Ordo needs to run.

Unfortunately, Diluc, as always, outdoes her. Very slightly--a handful more points on foraging, which would have been balanced out by her company's better score in scouting if he hadn't made it back to base camp a mere hour before her--but it puts her company in second place, while his is first, and second place isn't good enough. She doesn't need Mother to tell her that.

Mother tells her anyway. "You *cannot* let an alpha outdo you," she says through gritted teeth, an old refrain, as she paces back and forth across their front room. "No Gunnhildr can let themselves be outdone by their peers, and that only goes double for you. Every alpha in the Ordo is primed to dismiss you, whatever excuses they may give for it. That means that you cannot give them *any* to seize upon. We have been over this."

"If it's anyone's mistake, it's mine," Kaeya says, even though he should know better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture. "I was the one who fumbled the net and lost us all those fish."

"And you cannot let him defend you!" Mother rounds on them both. "Never, *ever* let him defend you. The moment anyone perceives you as hiding behind an alpha, it will be him they look to in order to win your obedience."

"Mother," Jean begins, because ill-advised as Kaeya's words were, she owes him her defense in return.

She never gets further. Mother has significantly more to say, first to them together and then to Jean alone, and afterwards she sends Jean out with the instruction to send Kaeya in. Half of what she says to him is audible through the door.

Jean knows that all this anger is on her behalf, that it covers up the fear Mother has always felt that people will look at Jean as lesser, will disregard her accomplishments because of what she is and how she was born. That doesn't make it any less cutting. She's still raw and smarting by lunchtime the next day, though she makes sure not to let it show when she dismisses her company for their meal and heads herself to the Cathedral on the pretense of checking on two of her knights who had been particularly foolish in the games.

If that route takes her past the bookstore, well, she can look, can't she? Even if it's sand in the wound?

Maybe it should be a relief that the book is gone. The bottom drops out of Jean's stomach, though, and the rest of her day is dismal, only made more so by the discovery that Barbara is in choir practice when she arrives and won't be out before she has to go. She goes through the motions with as much efficiency as she can muster and is grateful for her bed.

She's more grateful still when Kaeya slips in through her window. Mother stopped checking on them after bedtime years ago; Jean still doesn't know if that's out of trust, or because she has some concept of what she might find teenagers up to on their own, not that Jean knows if Kaeya can stomach touching himself in the same way she couldn't resist doing in the rush of all the hormones at that age. If she still does so after he departs again from these nighttime visits, well, she's only overwhelming the room with her own scent to disguise his, or at least that's what she would try to claim if he knew.

"You know I wasn't defending you as your alpha," Kaeya says without preamble.

"I know."

Jean doesn't bother ask if Mother believed him. She doesn't know what Jean does, and Barbatos willing she never will. Not until he and Jean are married, anyway, and Kaeya is a Gunnhildr whether Mother wants him to be or no. Jean is determined to insist that he can present as whatever he is, then, or not present as whatever he isn't, and never mind the Gunnhildr reputation. It will be as welcome to her as it is to him when he stops playing the romantic alpha she wishes for in public.

Kaeya sighs in relief, as if he somehow thought she might not believe him, and sinks down onto her bed. Above the covers, while she's below, but Jean pushes the quilt down a little to bare her shoulder and he nuzzles into her neck as if he's seeking her scent. His own clouds around her. Jean breathes it in and feels herself relax.

"Do you want-"

"*Please*," Jean says, her voice nearly cracking. "Otherwise I don't think I'll sleep at all."

He pulls his face from her neck and leans down to nip at her shoulder, well below the line of her uniform, where no one, even Mother, will notice a mark. Well away from her bonding glands, too, which Jean refuses to be disappointed by. She'll get what she wants once they're married, once, if probably never again, and until then this is kindness enough.

The pinprick of pain as his teeth sink in is soothed by the brush of his tongue. His venom sweeps through her, calming her almost immediately, relaxing her muscles until she's lying nearly limp on the bed. As soon as it eases her tension away, she can feel the exhaustion throbbing in her temples surge forth to start ushering her into sleep.

She's selfish, though. Kaeya is already giving her one comfort, and she still wants another, something pleasant to take into her dreams. They used to do this through letters, hidden beneath matresses and passed back and forth in secret during the day, writing answers before bedtime to titillate each other with their secret fantasies. But they're both braver now, if only with each other. All she has to do is ask.

"If you were a pirate-" Kaeya likes pirates, so much that she's fantasized sometimes about saving up to buy him a tame dusk bird, as if Mother would ever permit such a beast in her house "-and I was a stowaway you found in the hold, what would you do with me?"

"A stowaway, hmmm?"

"A beta stowaway," Jean adds impulsively. "Promised by my family to-" she yawns "-to a powerful mated couple in, hmm, Fontaine, whom I loathed enough to flee."

Kaeya props himself up on one elbow and cups her cheek, running his thumb gently down it. With his venom in her veins, Jean couldn't resist her shiver if she wanted to.

"Well, if *that* was the case, you'd be quite a prize, wouldn't you? You'd have to convince me that it was worth my while not to give you up for a reward...."

He starts to detail exactly how Jean might convince him in warm, suggestive tones. Jean lets his voice wash over her, and as she sinks into sleep, all her disappointment fades away. She doesn't need first place, or that book, or even Mother's approval. She already has everything she really needs.

***

Her future with Kaeya is so certain, so solid a factor in Jean's life that she doesn't realize how fragile it actually is until Mother, with one private meeting and the slash of a pen, throws it all away.

Jean is still reeling as she follows Mother home, her throat hoarse from shouting protests that went nowhere against the united wall of her and the Grand Master and the Seneschal, all furious in different and equally terrifying ways. Mother's fury is quiet, grim, and sharp, and leads her straight to Kaeya's room. She doesn't even seem to notice Jean right on her tail.

She tosses Kaeya's room with vicious efficiency, emptying drawers, flipping his mattress, digging into the back corners of his closet, and then circling back to pry at solid furniture and slit everything soft in search of hidden compartments and stashes. Which Kaeya *has*, as it turns out. Jean is only briefly shocked; she would have hidden some of this from Mother, too, if she'd had certain of his secrets, or even if she'd simply known how to conceal things as cleverly as he has.

None of it, though, is evidence. Mother's frustration mounts as she dumps out jewelry and hair ribbons, toys and harnesses that under any other circumstances would make Jean blush, and books with featureless red covers that even now do. She tosses a necklace atop the pile of earrings and bangles with a snort of disgust, not seeming to recognize the blue glass heart that makes Jean freeze in place, nor note that betraying reaction. While she turns back to the closet, Jean reaches out with shaking fingers and dares to snatch it up. Had Kaeya bought that for himself...?

The back of the closet is full of bedding that Jean knows no Gunnhildr has ever purchased. Most of it is the same shade of pale sky-blue as the necklace, just enough lighter than Mondstadt blue a proper Gunnhildr should prefer that the difference is obvious. None of it has the feather and bird motifs that Kaeya most likes, nor the diamonds that are his second-favorite; there's a duvet embroidered with fine white dandelion seeds blowing in an invisible wind, a scarf with orange tabbies, a pair of pillows with several increasingly pale shades to suggest clouds, a brown-and-green quilt whose interlocking blocks are, she realizes, in the shape of tortoises.... Mother tosses another piece upon the pile, a green silk robe decorated with purple cranes.

"This is nesting material," Jean says aloud, her voice scratchy in her throat.

"He had *ambitions*, didn't he." Mother's lip curls. "Let's both be grateful that his nerve failed before he got that far."

Jean swallows hard. Mother moves on to the closet's top shelf, where the red-bound erotica had been, and pulls out a few more books that she tosses out atop the pile with such carelessness that Jean nearly cries out in horror. All are romances, and every one is familiar, from the old and yellowing one where Vennessa holds a Lawrence at swordpoint on the cover to the fine leatherbound, gilt-edged first edition she hadn't won the right to buy last year.

Kaeya has never cared for romances. These are all to Jean's taste, ones that she had wanted and for some reason or another had never purchased. She doesn't remember the details, but she finds herself certain anyway that she'd either eyed them or mentioned them in Kaeya's presence.

A feeling is stirring inside her that isn't shock, or grief, or even horror. Jean realizes, staring at the hard lines of Mother's back as she jerks a hidden bag out from where it was tied beneath the wardrobe and pours out only mora, that it's defiance.

She takes a step back, then another, then turns and flees the room while Mother is still distracted. Nothing in there is going to be evidence. Not of Kaeya's supposed treachery, nor of the loyalty that Jean can't help but believe in. One way or another, she'll have to find her own.

Mother has discarded enough of Jean's family. She was a child when she lost Barbara, and powerless to act; now she's a woman grown, a knight and an officer, with a Vision at her waist and all the power of her recent promotion at her disposal. This time, Jean won't let Mother throw away someone she loves. She'll get Kaeya back.

[mckennamayfairgoode]

Don’t Leave Me Now, You Might Love Me Back

Billie Dean Howard x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: In which feelings get involved in a friends with benefits situation and you are tired of watching Billie Dean Howard walk away.

Warnings: Just a little angst and some pining. Also implied smut, but nothing too graphic. As a treat.

Song: One Day by Sharon Van Etten

A/N: I’m not saying all of my fics will be angsty with a side of yearning, but I’m not saying they won’t be either. 🤷‍♀️ This one kind of ran away with me. Hopefully it’s comprehensible, at least.

The faint sound of a soft indie song plays through the speakers in your apartment, a gentle melody that makes you think of morning walks in the springtime. A time you tend to keep to yourself, selfishly maybe, but one you treasure. You cherish those moments when you can see the world beginning to wake up around you. When spouses send their significant others off with a kiss at the front door, children tote their backpacks to the bus stop, dogs are walked, mail is delivered, life blooms. You cherish it, and when you can, you capture those moments like lightning bugs in a jar.

You lay on your stomach spread across the bed sideways with your feet hanging off the edge and the sheets twisted around your hips like an octopus. You’re opening the hatch of your old Polaroid camera when lips begin to trail kisses up your spine. Shivers follow in their wake, leaving goosebumps along your skin. “I don’t understand your fascination with that old thing,” her voice husks from behind you. Long, acrylic nails travel up your bare sides as she crawls on top of you. 

A smile plays at the corners of your mouth. “Careful, Billie Dean,” you tease without malice. “There’s a lot I could say regarding my ‘fascination’ with things older than me.”

Billie laughs, low and husky, from the back of her throat. The tingle it shoots down your body makes your toes curl. “Oh, darling, we both know the consequences of you saying anything like that.” She nips at each of your shoulder blades, one after the other. Her actions are slow and purposeful, just enough to tease you, to torment, to torture but never enough to hurt. Her nose follows a path up the back of your neck before you feel her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” she asks, coming to rest completely on top of you in a pile of skin and limbs and warmth. 

Your eyes flutter closed, your hands pausing in their motions as you get distracted. The smirk you feel against your skin causes your belly to jolt pleasantly. “Do we?” you ask playfully, once you feel you can speak without your voice wavering, just to see how she’ll react. As you always do. A part of you is aware that playing with fire is a mistake, but deep down, you know it’s a mistake you will make again and again. You would withstand the heat a thousand times if it meant you could sit in her fire, let her flames consume you whole, and remember how it felt for her to burn you right up. 

Billie captures your earlobe between her teeth. She bites down gently, just once in reprimand, before letting go. You swallow the moan in your throat and go back to your Polaroid. Billie Dean loves to play games and she is infinitely better at them than you are. From the moment you met her, you were destined to lose. 

Her arms come up around your neck, cheek brushing against yours as she settles her chin on your shoulder. You can feel her eyes following the movements of your fingers. “Tell me,” she demands quietly.

You hum. “Tell you what?” 

She pinches your hip playfully and smirks to herself when your body jerks beneath her. “What’s so special about this camera? You know phones do it better, right?” 

You huff, throwing her a look out of the corner of your eye. “Yes, but phones are so impersonal.” You pull out the old film cartridge and throw it on your bedside table, sliding a new one in place and securing the hatch. “If you take a picture with this, you’re in the moment. You’re a part of it.” You raise the camera above your head, just enough to get the right angle. “You get one shot and you have to make it count.” You look at the camera and click the shutter release button. There’s a whirr as the picture drops free and slides through the slot. You grab it and give it a few shakes, before turning and showing it to Billie. “One shot, one memory. Right here.”

She hums, a peach colored nail tracing the edge of the photograph. “It is a nice picture,” she admits. Your triumphant smile lasts only a few moments before she speaks again. “Until it gets destroyed or lost or tossed in the garbage.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the picture back, holding it protectively against your chest. “That’s why you take care of the things you love, Ms. Howard.” You miss the adoring smile she gives you as you look fondly down at the picture in your hand. Your heart blooms in your chest. You’re smiling at the camera, the light in your eyes bright like the happiness inside you is bursting at the seams and nothing could quite possibly put out your fire. Your gaze slides past your own face, drawn to Billie always, no matter where or who you're with. She is your sun and you will keep looking no matter how much it hurts.

While Billie always takes your breath away, you think she looks her best like this: make-up free, disheveled hair, and bare shoulders. She’s smiling, that real smile she reserves for those moments when she’s away from the cameras and her nose crinkles ever-so-slightly at the corners. It makes her eyes shine, beautiful and bold and adoring, where they look into the camera’s lens. But she’s not looking at the camera.

She’s looking at you.

--

The bed jostling underneath you is what rouses you from your deep sleep. It takes you a moment to orient yourself before you breathe in through your nose and stifle a yawn against your pillow. Cracking open your eyes, you sleepily lift your head and take a peek around the room. There’s a sliver of light filtering through the crack beneath your bathroom door. You lay your head back down and listen to the sink run in the background. The sound of Billie in your apartment, existing in the same space as you, fills you with a warmth that causes you to doze off.

You manage to open your eyes again when the sounds of rustling and movement perviate the room. “Billie?” you call sleepily. 

“Shh,” she soothes you softly, brushing your hair back with a slender hand. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Where‘re you goin’?” you slur after opening your eyes and catching a glimpse of her fully dressed in last night’s clothes, purse in hand.

Her nails trace the outline of your neck before she dips her head and presses a kiss against your forehead. “I have to go, baby. I have a show to film in the morning.”

You hum sleepily, leaning into her touch where her nails scratch gently at your scalp. “Stay,” you whisper, your tongue not obeying your mind to be quiet and let her go.

“I can’t, sweetheart. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You withhold a sigh. “Okay,” you say even though you’re not sure you believe her.

With one more kiss pressed to your head, she turns to go. You watch through bleary eyes as Billie Dean Howard once again walks out of your life. You try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, but the weight is an anchor and you feel it so deeply.

--

You shuffle through the junk mail you pulled from your postbox, hovering in front of your own apartment door like you’re waiting for someone else to invite you inside. You’re lost in your own head, stuck in an endless cycle of trying not to think about Billie Dean Howard while simultaneously doing nothing but thinking about her. 

You knew getting involved with her would only end in heartache on your part, that you were nothing more than a passing fancy, a distraction she entertained only when she was in town. But the moment you met and she looked at you with those eyes and that smile, you knew you were done for. You knew from the beginning that you would give and give and give until there was nothing left for her to take. 

That’s okay, you decide internally for it’s easy to have resolve when she’s not in front of you. When you’re not inhaling her perfume or touching her skin or hearing her voice purr sweet nothings into your ear. I don’t need her.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

You freeze in place, heart thumping a steadily growing rhythm beneath your rib cage. Turning your head, you find Billie standing behind you, one hand holding her purse and the other a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than you earn in a month. An acrylic nail traces the edge of one lens, a rouge pink color that matches her sweater and the floral pattern of her dress. You raise your gaze to hers and feel your breath hitch when your eyes meet.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” she purrs, her lips twitching into that familiar smile, part seductive, part amused because Billie knows she holds the entire world in her hands and uses that power to her advantage. 

“Hi, Billie,” you manage to say, inwardly cursing yourself as the resolve you previously had drains from your body and all that’s left is the desire to curl into her warmth and call her home.

Billie steps closer to you, backing you up until you feel the cool surface of the apartment door against your back. “I missed you, darling,” she murmurs, her breath warm against your lips as she stares into your eyes with an expression that makes your knees particularly weak. You want to believe her. You want to believe that the shine in her eyes is honesty and not proof of a lie well said. You want to believe, but you don’t and you can’t. So you kiss her.

She kisses you back feverishly, pressing against you in a way that allows you to feel every part of her and you want nothing more than to peel her out of her clothes and feel her skin beneath your hands. You push your tongue into her mouth, wanting to taste, to consume, to worship. To get on your knees and beg her to love you. But you can’t and she won’t. So you keep kissing her.

She smells of expensive perfume and cigarettes. You breathe it in like one would a bouquet of flowers and wonder if it will ever be enough. There’s a soft thump as something is dropped to the floor before you feel both of her hands cup your cheeks and pull you impossibly closer. You cling to her, tightening your grip on her hair. A hum passes from her mouth to yours and you have never felt so high in your life. She is a drug and you are addicted.

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when Billie pulls away, her chest rising with each heavy breath she takes and you watch it with half lidded eyes, consumed by lust and love and want and need.

She throws a glance over your shoulder at the door behind you. She doesn’t linger there, returning to you like you might disappear if she stops looking into your eyes for more than a moment. Her thumb trails along your jaw causing you to arch your neck and lean into her touch. You bite back a whimper, trying and failing to quell the heat inside. Her words come and when they do, they are a slow, gentle rasp that causes your stomach to ache pleasantly. “Can I come in?” she asks.

You barely manage to nod, vaguely aware of her stooping to pick up her purse from the floor as you struggle to find the right key with your shaking hands. She pulls you into another kiss, open mouthed and heady, while you put the key in the lock and give it a twist. As you open the door and Billie guides you backwards into the apartment, as your hold tightens on her hair, as your breath mingles with hers and it feels like you are not two souls anymore, but one, you realize, with a pained lurch of your heart, that you do need her. And how you hate to be wrong.

--

“So how are things?” Rina gives you a curious glance over the rim of her coffee cup, one dark brow arched.

“Fine,” you answer, shrugging and absentmindedly leaning your chair back on two legs. To avoid her knowing gaze, you observe through the window as people meander down the sidewalk, passing by the coffee shop where you and your friend sit. It’s only mid-morning, but the weekend has coaxed most people outside and into the city. They rush around in groups and pairs, tugging on scarves and talking on cellphones. You watch as a little boy darts down to the toy store a few shops away much to the chagrin of his parents. A small smile pulls at your lips as he gestures excitedly to the display he can see behind the glass.

Rina’s voice comes abruptly from the other side of the table, breaking the easy silence that had settled like a warm blanket between you. “Where’s your camera?”

You shrug again. “What do you mean?” you ask even though you know. 

She gives you a chastising look. “You know what I mean. Any other day, you’d have that old polaroid glued to your hands.”

“I don’t know,” you say, the tips of your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup. A couple walks by your window, holding hands and cuddling close in the cold autumn weather. Two men, one shorter with blonde hair and a kind face, the other older and distinguished with grey at his temples. You find them lovely. The younger man’s scarf suddenly comes loose, blowing behind him in the chill breeze. His partner gives him a fond look, reaching over and tucking the garment more securely around his neck. The younger man grins, dimples appearing in his cheeks, before he leans up and kisses his lover on the tip of his nose. The older man smiles and you can see the years disappear from his face as he looks at his lover with stars in his eyes. Click, you think. “I just haven’t been taking pictures lately,” you respond finally. You try to ignore the jealousy rearing its ugly head inside of you, the envy you feel for something you never had. Something you couldn’t call yours in the first place.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Rina sits up and ducks her head to meet your eyes. “What ever happened to Miss Hollywood?”

You snort. “Nothing happened to Miss Hollywood,” you answer casually, as though you haven’t been thinking about Billie Dean Howard since the day you met her.

“You sure? Because you don’t talk about her, and when you don’t talk about something, that means there’s more going on and you’re just not telling me.” Rina’s big brown eyes plead with you from across the table. You know she has good intentions, but you’re just not ready yet. How can you explain something you can barely understand yourself?

At what point in your fling with a medium did you even fall in love with her? You don’t know. All you know is that every time she walks away, you feel a little less whole. All you know is that whenever you see her smile, you can feel the cracks within you sealing like fresh cement in a fissured pavement. You know you miss her when she’s gone and she smokes in front of a window so you don’t have to breathe it in and she likes to cuddle after making love. And you realize, with a start, that you don’t remember when having sex became ‘making love’ either.

You feign a sigh. “Where did you get your Psychology degree? Because I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with someone who’s not a trained professional.”

“Y/N!” Rina gives you a gentle kick beneath the table, sounding so exasperated that you laugh, genuinely for the first time in weeks and it feels so good, you can’t believe you forgot how. The coffee shop’s bell rings and you turn to look, more out of reflex than anything, as two women stroll into the cafe. The laughter dies in your throat. Oh.

Billie Dean stands in front of the counter, another woman at her side. She’s beautiful with high cheekbones and long, golden hair piled atop her head. They stand close, exchanging laughter and smiles, their shoulders brushing with a familiarity that makes you burn from the inside out. You clench your mug in your hands and deliberately turn away. 

--

That night, you find yourself pliant beneath Billie’s expert hands, her lips hot against the skin of your collarbone. You’re a mess underneath her, but that burning jealousy is not far from your mind. “Who was that?” You manage to gasp between rakes of her teeth against the tendons of your neck. Maybe if your head was a bit more clear, you wouldn’t have asked. Maybe if you weren’t foggy and clouded and full of so much emotion, you would be able to think straight. But you haven’t been able to think straight since you met Billie.

“Who was who, darling?” She asks, sliding her hands under your shirt and raking her nails down your sides.

“At the coffee shop-” Your breathing stutters to a stop as her thigh shifts between your legs. “Downtown,” you emphasize, tugging at her curls to get her attention, but mainly because you just need something to do with your hands.

“You saw me?” She asks curiously, but she doesn’t sound worried. The words are muffled against your skin as she trails kisses up your jaw.

“I was there-” you whimper as she bites a particularly sensitive spot “-with Rina.”

Billie hums against your neck. “That was just a friend, sweetheart. I’ve known her for years,” she explains offhandedly like you had just asked her for tomorrow’s forecast. Frustration builds inside you, but just for a moment. It’s hard to focus with the woman you love making it difficult to remember even your own name.  

“Okay,” you say even though you’re not sure you believe her. But it doesn’t matter. You tremble and shake and fall apart in her hands only for all your pieces to scatter on the ground at her feet. You know you’re going to have to pick them up yourself, but until then, you will savor this moment. The moment you made love to the sun and did not burn.

--

Your phone vibrates with an incoming call and you barely give it a glance before you answer. “Hello?”

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” a warm voice purrs in your ear. You almost drop your phone, but manage to keep a tight hold on it as you press it closer to your ear. Like if you do, you will feel Billie’s warmth.

“Billie?”

“Who else would be calling you at two in the morning?” The teasing tone in her words is familiar and your heart races at the sound of it.

“Just you as far as I know,” you say, smiling into the phone.

You can hear her hum, just barely, followed by the flick of a lighter and the sound of her inhaling. “I just got into town. My flight got delayed four hours due to some storm in the middle -of-nowhere Kansas." The exasperation in her voice makes your lip curl fondly. "I know it's late, but I was wondering if you would like some company?”

“Are you saying you want to see me?” you ask, feeling bold when she’s not there for you to crumble beneath her knowing eyes.

There’s a pause, just long enough for your heart to clench uncomfortably, before you hear her exhale. “I want to see you, Y/N,” she says, all sincerity and tenderness. You feel like flying.

“Then come over,” you retort, warmth lacing your voice and you wonder if she can hear the love threaded inside. A sudden knock at your door has you turning from your spot at the counter. “Hold on, Billie, someone’s here,” you say into the phone before making your way over and tugging it open.

Billie smiles at you, one shoulder leaning against the door frame. She still has her phone to her ear as she meets your eyes. “Hello, darling,” she says and you realize you are soaring.

--

You always seem to know the moment she leaves the bed. The instant she moves, you’re wide awake like your body is attuned to every movement of hers. She, the goddess of beauty and elegance. You, her faithful and loyal disciple. Always.

You blink steadily at your apartment ceiling. You should just roll over and go back to sleep, but something keeps you awake. The need to hear her, maybe. The need to just feel her presence, possibly.

You listen as she moves around your bathroom. There’s the steady sound of the sink followed by cabinet drawers being opened and closed then the sink again. A car honks outside. You suddenly remember that a world exists outside of your bubble and any moment now, Billie Dean will be out there without you.

Eventually, you hear the bathroom door open and you suddenly can't bear the thought of her leaving. You know that one of these days, you will lose all control. You will get on your knees, heart in your hands, and beg her to love you, but you don't want that day to be today so you roll over, feigning sleep. A few short moments later, heels click on your hardwood floor. Your body buzzes at her presence as she stops at your bedside. You feel her fingers brushing the hair from your eyes then trailing down your cheek. 

Lips press against your forehead, one long moment that makes your insides clench. “Sweet dreams, darling,” she whispers against your skin. It is sweet and intimate and you wonder if she’s doing it to further convince you of the lie or if it actually means something. You tell yourself it has to be the former. 

She moves away, taking the sound of her expensive heels with her.

You listen, but you can’t watch her walk away. Not anymore.

--

“I can’t do this,” you murmur.

“What’s that, darling?” Billie asks, her back to you as she sits in front of the hotel vanity. Her hand pauses, hovering in the air with a mascara brush firmly in her grip. You can feel her eyes on you, and it takes everything inside of you not to meet them. 

Your hands grip the sheets beneath you. “I said, I can’t do this,” you repeat, stare firmly fixed on the ceiling. 

“Can’t do what?” Billie sets down her makeup and turns to face you.

“This,” you gesture at the room aimlessly. Frustration balls up in your stomach like a spool of yarn, tangled and twisted and infinite. You sit up and start reaching for your clothes, tugging them on haphazardly as Billie watches.

“Now, Y/N-” Billie begins. 

You cut her off, “No, Billie. Please.”

She pauses, eyebrows drawing together. You tug on your shoes, almost stumbling over your own feet in your haste to get out of the room. You won’t let her leave this time. This time, it will be you. Billie’s voice comes out in a croak when she speaks: “Please what?”

“Please just let me go,” you plead, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. You brush impatiently at your wet eyelids.

Billie stands, clutching the sheer robe in her hands as she pulls it tighter around her shoulders. Your eyes linger. On the hands that held you, on the throat she had bared just moments ago as she lay beneath you, on the mouth that said things it knew you wanted to hear. “I don’t understand where this is coming from, Y/N.”

You laugh bitterly, a fire suddenly roaring to life inside of you. “Exactly, because you can’t see. You’re a medium and you can see things that others wouldn’t believe, but you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” You sniff, the fire burning down to embers as quickly as it had appeared. You just feel tired. You shuffle closer to the door, refusing to meet her eyes. If you meet her eyes, it will all be over and you will cave as you always do. 

“Y/N-” Billie steps forward, hands reaching out for you as if the distance between you isn’t so unbearably large. As if there isn’t a vast canyon between you, as if you aren't more than just a speck on the other side. 

You shake your head and dart back another step. “I’ve tried,” you say, voice broken, the words stabbing you in the throat each time you speak. “I’ve tried for months, but I can’t- I just can’t, Billie.”

“Sweetheart, please,” Billie murmurs, her voice seeming to catch in the back of her throat. “Just tell me what’s going on. What don’t I see?” She sounds desperate almost, but you chalk that up to your ears only hearing what they want to hear. She’s proven time and time again that you are nothing to her but a way to pass the time. The reminder is a bucket of ice water poured over your head. It chills you to the bone.

You resist the urge to turn, to look, to comfort. “I just- I can’t keep watching you walk away. Because every time you do, you take a piece of me with you and eventually, I won’t have any pieces left.” You grab the doorknob and jerk open the door, staring into the empty hallway of the hotel. “I hoped for months that I was wrong, that maybe you could feel something for me, but it’s time that I realize it didn’t mean anything to you. I won’t let you take pieces of me anymore. I can’t,” you say, your voice cracking and hope wilting in your chest like a lone flower in the middle of the sidewalk.

You ignore the warnings in your head to run, to not look back. You chance a glance over your shoulder anyway, instantly meeting Billie’s gaze. It’s a blurry painting, but you can see the sadness in her eyes, the pain in her expression. It’s not real, a part of you whispers. Choking back a sob, you gather your broken pieces, and walk out of the door and out of Billie’s life.

--

Your phone lights up with another call, buzzing persistently in your hand. 

Billie Dean 

47 times in two days. You wonder if she’s sleeping. You remind yourself that it’s not your problem. 

Your fingers itch to pick it up. You know you should just turn it off. You know that the pain that lances through you every time her name appears on the screen isn’t worth the small victory you might feel when you see her leave another voicemail. Maybe a part of you reveled in watching her chase after you. Maybe a part of you wanted her to yearn, to feel, to need. Just like you. 

The other part of you, the part that loved Billie Dean with every fiber of your being, the part that bloomed like a flower in spring every time you thought of her smile, just wanted her to come home. 

You envision a world where you didn’t walk out of that hotel. Maybe you got to the elevator and maybe you turned around at the sound of your name and maybe Billie had chased you down the hallway in her sheer robe and maybe she kissed you. Maybe you made love once again with the sun rising to meet you, a new day, a new start. Maybe she asked you to stay. Maybe you said yes.

But this isn’t that world.

You turn your phone off.

--

You stand in front of your kitchen window absentmindedly blowing into your mug as you watch the sun begin its slow descent to the horizon. It’s springtime, your favorite part of the year. It doesn’t feel much like it, but the evidence is all around you. In the shade of the trees, in the flowers and the leaves, in the birds and the clear expanse of the sky. Even in the sound of children playing on the sidewalk. You wonder when you became so numb to the things you love. To the things that used to fill you with joy and warmth. And then you wonder why you’re wondering. Because you know why, but even after all this time, you find it hard to pin blame on the woman who promised you nothing. She was never yours, and she never said she would be. But dammit, you were hers.

You try to watch the sun set and not the street down below. You try not to notice how a woman walks by with hair a similar shade of honey blonde (too much blonde, not enough honey). You try not to remember how she once told you sparrows were her favorite, or how you can see them now as they sing and flutter from powerline to tree and back again. You try to ignore that feeling of longing you get when you hear a child’s excited squeal followed by the sound of someone laughing loudly, joyfully. You try to quell that sense of resentment burning in your chest as the world moves on while you feel stuck in a prison of your own making. You take a sip of your coffee and promptly make a face when you realize it’s gone cold without you noticing.

A sudden knock at your door has you turning on the spot. You give it a weary look, before sighing and placing your mug in the sink. You approach your door just in time to see an envelope being slipped beneath the crack. It glides across the hardwood floor and slows to a stop at your sock-covered feet. You stare down at it, too shocked to move.

It’s the loopy, elegant handwriting that catches your attention. Your heart plummets into your stomach. You bend down and scoop it up with shaking fingers. It’s a normal white envelope, a little plain for Billie’s taste, but you’d know that handwriting anywhere. It’s the words on the front that make tears well in your eyes.

It meant everything to me.

The lump in your throat feels like it’s made of glass with the way it tears you up from the inside. You try to swallow it down. You want to feel nothing. You want to want for nothing. 

With shaking hands, you open the envelope and watch as something small and square falls out and lands in your open palm. It’s a photograph.

It’s you. 

It’s- Billie Dean’s smile is soft as she looks at you, the both of you bare, you twisted beneath the sheets and her on top of you. Your heart aches and burns and cries. You don’t know what to feel when realization hits you, hard and all at once. I still need her. And this time, you don’t give a damn that you were wrong.

You drop the Polaroid, letting it float to the ground like a forgotten feather from a bird long gone, and speed towards the door, the hinges squeaking in protest when you throw it open.

“Billie!” You yell out, speeding down the hallway in your socks and your pajamas like a crazy person. You don’t care if the neighbors hear. You don’t care if they call the cops. You don’t care, you don’t care, you don’t care. “BILLIE!”

You dart around the corner of your hallway, down the stairs and out the front door of your apartment building, still screaming her name at the top of your lungs and ignoring the bewildered looks of your neighbors as you let the door swing shut noisily behind you. You’ve just made it on the sidewalk when you almost run directly into a figure dashing back towards the front door steps. You manage to stop yourself from colliding, swaying dangerously as you try to regain your balance. The person catches you by your shoulders, steadying you on your feet. 

You look up and instantaneously feel yourself freeze. You’re breathing heavily from the mad dash or adrenaline or fear or maybe it’s just love; love for Billie Dean Howard and want for her too. 

Dark brown eyes the color of molasses look down at you fondly. “Hi, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice husky and warm and if home is a person, you know it’s her. It has to be. Because your heart has never felt at peace as it does in this very moment, with you in her arms, your face in her hands, and your fingers threaded in her hair.

“You’re here,” you whisper. You savor the moment, watching as her nose crinkles when she smiles, her eyes warm and tender in a way you have never seen before. The tips of her acrylic nails graze the skin of your cheek, gently as if she’s afraid you’ll break. I won’t, you want to say. I am whole.

“Of course I am,” she says back, just as soft. “Where else would I be?”

And there, in the springtime, with children and parents shuffling around you as they return home for the day, with dogs getting their last walks before bed, with street lamps buzzing, with life in bloom all around you, you finally feel complete. And there, in the middle of the sidewalk with sparrows singing a song from the trees above you, in the protective circle of her arms, you are home. 

And there, you kiss her.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 41)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33, 34, Lewis POV 5, Mystery POV 2, Lewis POV 6, Vivi POV 5, Lewis POV 7 VIVI POV 6

Part 42: here

...

VIVI POV:

The flames are kind of mesmerising, with their dancing oranges and yellows, streaked with green and the occasional blue as various materials reacted differently to the heat. It is easy just to stare and let her attention wander, fatigue turning all her worries into background static. Inside the van, various camping implements twist and warp. It is the ache in her leg muscles that eventually pulls her attention back to the present. Her legs are tired from her earlier search for the van and prolonged restless standing. A reminder that she has a long walk back to Pepper Paradiso and her truck. She feels doubly exhausted just thinking about it. 

Vivi glances at Mystery who is also staring into the fire. His expression borders on thoughtfull, lit faintly by the fire. A familiar etherial red light is diffused amongst his fur, barely noticeable alongside the organge glow of the flames. Does the red light mean that Mystery is casting his illusion to hide the fire? She is not sure.

“So what’s the deal with this spiritual residue, physical plane stuff you mentioned earlier? How does that tie into all that stuff about deals, oaths and whatnot?” There is a lot of folklore warning against making deals with supernatural creatures but she wants the actual facts behind it. With her constant vigil at the hospital and Mystery’s own efforts to spy on Milton’s downtown police department, she hasn’t had the opportunity to ask many questions. This is the first time she’s been alone with Mystery and not been distracted chasing around after leads and information related to Arthur’s possession. 

Mystery’s head swings around so he is looking right at her. His eyes are backlit by that same red light which shines out from behind his irises. The effect is made more intense by its association to that night outside Pepper Paradiso. It isn’t exactly the same- it is a lot less angry- but the small comparison makes her shiver. 

Mystery blinks, ears drooping, and looks off to the side. She wouldn’t think a giant, many tailed kitsune could look awkward but Mystery pulls it off. A sudden change in the wind interrupts her next question. Vivi gets a whiff of burning rubber and melting plastic in all it’s this horridness. Mystery also wrinkles his nose in discomfort. The sheer displeasure splashed across his face reminds her of similar expressions he’d make at his dog food. It is crazy to picture him eating dog food after seeing him like this, with his shimmering white fur, almost silver in the moonlight, tails cascading around him both taking up too much space while also taking no space at all. Not even the fancy, expensive dog food. 

/Perhaps we should move further up-wind?/ 

Vivi nods and they shuffle around as much as the enclosed space allows so the smell isn’t coming right at them. It takes her closer to Mystery but she’s happy to discover that it’s a discomfort she’s willing to bare to avoid the stench. Once they’ve found a slightly new location, Mystery speaks again. 

 /Your question is difficult to answer because none of these - spiritual residue, the physical plane or oaths- are simple. / 

“Well, try. Or at least give me the cliff-notes. Something I can actually do something with. Like, how much can I rely on all those stories, legends and myths I have memorised?”

Mystery considers her, eyes softer, red luminescence dimming to barely an ember as he thinks. / Human belief does hold some influence over how spiritual and magical energies manifest, as does any type of will or resolve. Resolve is what shapes these energies, allowing for us non-physical entities to manipulate reality around us. It is what gives oaths and promises their holding power./

 /What is a promise if not the ultimate statement of intention./

“So, it’s a ‘humans believe in fairies so fairies exist’ type scenario?” That would be convenient if only because it would validate all the time she’d spend pouring over old myths and folktales. 

/Partially…/ Mystery’s tails twitch, encircling his paws, and he settles himself into a seated position, and Vivi gets the sense that Mystery is summarising and skipping over a lot of detail for her, / Get enough humans believing in the same story for a few hundred years and it will have tangible effects on the type of creatures that come into being. It will influences how the spiritual and non-physical function on this plane of existence, giving animation to what would otherwise be mindless energy. /

The explanation makes sense, in a way. Vivi frowns, mulling it over, following Mystery’s example and moving to the nearest rock with a semi-flat surface and sitting herself down. So far things were relatively straightforward. Supernatural creatures existed because of some non-physical, extradimensional energy which was shaped by will power. It both explained human religion and mythology, as well as the odd system of bargaining Mystery had walked her through already. Only things were never that simple, were they?

“You are the way you are because of myths and stuff?” Vivi speaks up and falters trying to think of a generic term for ‘supernatural creature,’ realising that Mystery hadn’t put a name to what he or any of them were outside of being partly spiritual, non-physical in nature, “But you said it was only partially true? Where does the partially come into all this?”

/Humans are far from the only creatures that have access to the resolve and will power needed to shape these energies. Stories told by humans are rarely completely accurate for a reason./ 

Well, that sounds super ominous and the way Mystery is watching her. like he is worried about something, isn’t helping. The fox exhales and his ears twitch. 

/If you wish it, we can discuss the matter at length another time. Many far wiser than I have dedicated centuries to understanding how creatures like myself come into being and what shapes our growth and development. For now, consider it context. /

“Context?” Is it just her or does Mystery seam doubly tentative now? His tails are shifting in an uncharacteristic display of outward emotion. 

/This plane, the physical plane, has its own structures and laws which shape it. Then there are creatures like myself that can alter these structures. Mostly, our influence is very limited, depending on our resolve and power which grow slowly with age and experience. Any alteration too drastic requires a lot of energy and may leave one in danger of fading to nothing./ Mystery lapses into a contemplative silence, attention drifting to the fire. The flames reflect in his eyes, so they dance and flicker a warm yellow which intermingles with the red. 

/Gods, deities, higher powers, humans have many names for them, but they do exist, and their resolve is beyond comprehension. More ideas and concept than anything else, their interference here comes in many forms. If one knows how and was willing to take an oath to act as acolytes to the physical plain, then there are a wide range boons available for beings like myself./

Mystery pauses as if to check she’s following the explanation. At this point, Vivi’s just taking everything in stride. Gods exist? Sure, why not. It’s not any crazier than all the other stuff Mystery’s said. What does have her worried is the uncomfortable feeling that Mystery is building up to some sort of unpleasant revelation. The fox looks and sounds dead serious and she gets the sense that he’s explaining something fundamentally important.

/Of course, when you have entities capable of granting abilities with the potential to unravel reality itself, there must be some structure to it otherwise there would be only chaos. A Natural Order exists to maintain balance. /

“Sooo…” She ends up having to prompt when Mystery’s silence stretches too long after the statement, “…you have some sort of supernatural code of conduct that stops you from messing up reality. Good to know.” Ever since Mystery dropped his dog persona, he has never expressed any hesitation when it came to outlining his own abilities.  Right now, he is looking very uncertain, almost like he regrets trying to explain this to her.

“Mystery?” She asks again, more insistent, because dammit if she’s going to let him clam-up when she’s finally getting some popper answers.

/ Your investigation, regarding the change in Arthur’s behaviour, I have a… theory… regarding what might have affected him. / Mystery turns back to her, expression serious, /I received a… vision of sorts. A warning... / 

Mystery exhales, /One tenant of this Natural Order that is rigorously reinforced is that none can interfere with the progression of time beyond the basic manipulations of time fields and alterations of the perhaps a minute or so, a hour at most. Even these small alternations require immense power and a direct connection to a deity within the correct domain. That or immense personal sacrifice. / 

“Time manipulation? That’s possible? Wait…” Vivi’s breath catches because she’s read enough science fiction literature to know that you didn’t just bring up time travel without it being relevant, “Who’s time travelled? Can you time travel?”

/No, I cannot. Not to this extent…Or I should not have been able too./ Several tails unfurl to sway in a slightly agitated pattern, /It is a discussion for another time, maybe. I am not the one who is to be suspected of time-travelling./

“Arthur? You’re saying Arthur time-travelled,” She feels like she should outright reject the implication for being too outlandish. What made time-travel any different from extra-dimensional gods or spiritual energy that was shaped by will-power? Vivi grips the edges of her jacket, clenching it tightly. For the second time that week, her whole world view shakes, reordering as a whole lot of floating pieces and facts finally start coming together into one coherent picture.

“The force behind Arthur’s odd behaviour change is because he time-travelled?”

/It is only a theory. The vision may have been incorrect or I might have misinterpreted it./

“He looks the same though. Wouldn’t he look…older or younger?” It couldn’t be younger because she knows younger Arthur and how terrible he was at lying…Or she hopes she does. Her mind spins as everything she’s worked to piece together over the past few days falls apart. All her theories, useless. Every plan, every detail, now askew.

/ It was implied that he may have travelled backwards from two years beyond our current time. As for appearance, human souls carry an imprint of all their memories and experiences. If one were to send a soul back in time any matching memories would synchronise and newer memories would sit alongside them./

“Okay, okay, say you’re right about the time travel. This is a good thing. It means Arthur was always Arthur, ah...excluding the one day when he wasn’t. The weird behaviour is because we’ve been interacting with an older Arthur.” 

Two years wasn’t a huge age gap. 

Maybe this, if it were true, was okay. How much could Arthur have possibly changed? Even as she tries to considers the possibility in a positive light, all she feels is apprehension. Before all this, she wouldn’t have thought much about the ramifications of time travel aside from the fact that it was cool. Alas, the shine that uncovering the unknown had once brought is dulled with worry. After having what felt like a lifetime of stress condensed into four days, she knows nothing about this stuff is simple. 

/I do not know whether this is good or bad for Arthur, only that such a desperate measure is never taken without dire cause. Divinities that deal in time and fate are incredibly powerful and notoriously unforgiving. I can only assume that whatever this current timeline replaced was worse than drawing ire of fate itself. /

Mystery confirms her fears. His tails finally settle and he exhales unhappily, and she mirrors him.

Warnings of impending doom not withstanding, Vivi tries to picture a future where the only option left for Arthur was to go back and do it all again. Nothing that comes to mind is pleasant. What’s more, it also throws new light onto all her recent interactions with Arthur and she is not sure she likes what any of it implies. Arthur had avoided interacting with them and had snuck off to buy medication alone. He’d had a panic attack, he hadn't had one of those in years. If that wasn’t the work of some demon-possessed asshole, then maybe it was normal behaviour for future-Arthur. Some of what the demon-bastard had said was making more sense now. The body snatcher was right, Arthur was ‘not quite himself’...in a manner of speaking. No wonder Arthur had seemed different, on that day several weeks ago, when she had caught him unawares outside his bathroom and, for a split second, his face had been strange. 

But, what could have  or caused the change. 

‘Flipped a switch on his personality’.  

Had something happened between Arthur and Lewis to cause Arthur’s standoffish, bordering of fearful behaviour? What had she done to make Arthur not feel comfortable coming to her for help?   She and Lewis would never hurt Arthur. Right?  

What could she do to fix something like this? 

How much could have possibly changed in two years? She thinks of Lewis, of Mystery biting into his arm, of blood spattering across the face, of blood on her hands, of blood on the ground. Both her friends dying while she’s sitting there useless. A lot...a lot could change and it didn’t need as long as two years to happen. She shakes her head and massages her temples, trying to rid herself of imagery and not to get drawn into thinking up a worse scenario.  s it bad that she preferred the scenario in which Arthur had been threatened into lying because he was being stalked by some crazy man in leather?  

“You said there’s a chance that you're wrong. How likely is that?” What was the accuracy rate for ‘visions’ anyway? Geez, she’s not even sure how to approach that one. 

/From what I have seen of Arthur, despite the impossibility of it all, I cannot rule it out completely. His soul is warped, his aura altered, far too powerful for a human, double what it should be. It could be a result of an older and younger soul merging or it could be the influence of some other force./ 

She lets out a long, tired breath, watching the fire begin to burn itself out. The cold begins to creep back in and the night seems just a dark as that night outside the diner even when lit by the full moon. Everything feels like it’s too much, too many problems tying themselves on knots.  Funnily, it’s the opposite problem of having too little information. She needs time to work through it all and put it in some sort of usable order. Supernatural creatures, gods, spiritual energy, souls, auras, visions, time travel, different planes of reality. She has so many questions about all of it that they’ve all melded together into a confusing mess.

“When Arthur wakes up, I’ll confirm the time travel thing. I’ll figure something out.” 

 /I will help. I noted a change in Arthur’s aura and did nothing to investigate. I regret it. As unpreceded and worrying as this situation is, I do not want my inaction to lead to further hurt./

Vivi doesn’t answer, opting to continue staring at the van. She’s tempted to let her mind wander and check out of this whole confusing mess. She doesn’t have the energy to reject Mystery’s reassurance like she’d been so adamant in doing over the last few days.

/I will admit, there is a lot I have yet to tell you…/ Mystery continues she feels the slight shift in the air as he tails begin to sway again, /Some of it involves circumstances I am not proud off, unrelated to what is happening now but maybe important for later. I require time to mull it over…I am not accustomed to making decisions so suddenly. It is a very human thing to do./

At least this apology acknowledges the fact that Mystery is still keeping secrets. It is better than a repeat of the ‘I wanted to keep you safe’ bullshit her dad had been spewing. It’s something. 

“I just don’t know where to start with this.” She looks to Mystery, trying to keep the strain from her voice. “If your theory is right, what do I say to Arthur?” Honestly, she hadn’t really thought about what she would say to Arthur if…when... he awoke aside from making sure he was okay. 

/Whatever you would normally say to offer a friend comfort. His time spent with that parasitic abomination was not kind from what I gathered during our brief interaction and it will have likely left some form of mark behind./

The assertion isn’t much really, but it is something. Mystery is right. She’ll focus on Arthur.  Whatever time-travelling disasters might have happened, this was still Arthur and that’s all that mattered in this moment. The bigger picture can wait. She wasn’t going to let the taunting of some bastard demon colour her view of potential-future-Arthur until she knew more. If Lewis were here he would know what to do, he was good at helping people. No. Lewis wasn’t here so she would do what she always did, approach the situation as rationally as possible and give Arthur emotional support whether he wanted it or not. It’s got them through problems in the past and its the only frame of reference she has. At least now she has something concrete to go on and plan around, even if it did suck. And, who knows, maybe Mystery’s theory was wrong. She yawns, now thoroughly mentally and physically exhausted. Maybe, she would fall asleep right here, sitting on this stone.

/We should begin our journey back to your vehicle. It is a significant walk and we should start if we intend to make it before sunrise./  Mystery intones, eyes tracking her as she sways from side to side. The fox stands, stretching his front paws, and she watches his tails fan out then settle.

“We can’t go yet the van is still burning.”

Before she’s even finished the objection the fire undulates, seaming to snuff out, collapsing in on itself. Mystery trots up to the remainder of the van, barely a metal shell now, nudging it with its shoulder. Slowly at first and then all at once, the van rolls over and into the ravine. There is a loud crash, followed by the screech of twisting and crunching metal. Vivi jumps at the sudden noise, standing in her alarm, sleep momentarily forgotten.

/Is this satisfactory?/

She blinks, then approaches the edge of the ravine, peering into it. The blackened, ruined van is at the bottom, warped on the rocks. “Yeah, I guess this is fine.”  Not like she had a better plan. No one would see it from the road when it was like this.

/Will you allow me to carry you. It will be significantly faster and allow you time to rest. /

“I…” She looks back over at Mystery, about to refuse outright and insist on walking the whole way under her own power. However, the way Mystery was dipping his head, ears back, head down, makes her hesitate. He is obviously trying to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. She pauses. It is a long way back and she is tired enough that the visions of looming shadows and blood aren’t so dominating without the backdrop of the diner to spur them on.

“Okay…yes. I think I’ll be alright with that.”

Instead of immediately trotting towards her, Mystery hesitates, watching and Vivi realises he’s waiting for her to make the first move. Wind blows through the ravine, whistling, taking the remainder of the burnt rubber smell and black smoke away with it. The space between them is clear and empty of obstruction. Carefully, inching along the ground to moves, stopping a step away. Mystery leans forward, closing the rest of the distance. She holds her breath as his jaws come near to her hand. There is the sensation of something wet against her palm.

Mystery’s nose is wet. He is sniffing her hand like he would have when pretending to be a dog. His many tails swish from side to side like he is attempting to mimic a wagging tail. The whole effect is somewhat ridiculous seeing as he has so many of them.  

Hesitant at first then with more confidence, she runs a hand across the fur forming the tuft at the side of his head. It is coarse but easily smoothed under her palm. She draws her hand down his neck. In the places where she touches red light particles jump into the air like dust motes, sticking to her hand before quickly fading. For a moment she smells freshly cooked rice, upturned earth, and fresh rain before that sensation fades as well. Oh...and she begins to understand what Mystery ment when he called himself non-physical. Impressions and sensation run down her arm, tickling her thoughts reminding her of when Mystery uses his thought-speech. The Kitsune feels both solid and transient. 

Mystery turns to the side, giving her easy access to his back, waiting patiently. She blinks the non-physical impressions away. More confident, she pulls herself up, gripping onto his fur, feeling his snout poke into her side to nudge her forward.

“I’m still angry at you, you know,” She affirms once she is comfortably situated and Mystery starts walking.  The anger and hurt of betrayal still curl tight in her chest, though they have loosened somewhat. 

/I understand. /  

Nodding once, she relaxes, letting herself rest for what feels like the first time in days.  She finds it oddly easy to balance and she ends up leaning forward against Mystery’s neck, finding comfort in the rock of his slightly uneven gate. Would this count as upholding the crappy agreement to sleep she had made earlier with Mystery?

“Why don’t more people know about all this stuff?” The question is soft, muffled by Mystery’s fur as she attempts to ward off her quickly returning fatigue. 

/Most manifestations of spiritual energy are subtle, indistinguishable from normal acts of nature. Fully realised creatures like myself are also rare and tend to keep to themselves. It is more common to come across formless entities such as spirits and yokai, and even they leave barely an indent on this plane…hard to notice when one does not know where to look.../ 

As Mystery talks, sound washing through her mind like a river, fatigue finally catching up with, taking her quickly into a blissful, dreamless sleep.

...

NOTE: THE EXPOSITION NIGHTMARE IS OVER!

And in the end Arthur never had to tell either of his friends about the time-travel. 

I have decided I hate  exposition writing, this thing took freakin forever and I’m still not sure it made complete sense. Should have explained some of this shit way earlier to make it easier on myself. Anyway, now I can finally shift the focus back to Arthur. 

I hope I made this interesting enough seeing as it was just Vivi and Mystery talking for 3000+ words. 

Part 42: here

[destielshippingnews]

Edvard's Supernatural Rewatch & Review: 1x05 Bloody Mary

In this review, I’ll be discussing suicide, survivor’s guilt, and bad dialogue.

1x05 Bloody Mary enjoys a rating of 8.4 on IMDB. It’s a strong, atmospheric episode embodying the horror-show vibe the show was intended to evoke. It was originally conceived as being episode two or three of the show, and would have made a better episode two than 1x02 Wendigo due to its themes of guilt and bereavement linking into Jess’s death and Sam’s role in it.

Mirrors are one of the defining symbols of this episode, something made painfully obvious by the incredible number of mirrors the family owns. They are both the means whereby Mary kills her victims and the means whereby characters reflect on themselves. Sam’s info-dumpage that ‛mirrors reflect our soul’ should make it explicit to viewers paying attention that Mary is a metaphor for guilt. This guilt, however, is not necessarily the guilt that comes of commission of a crime or a moral evil, but the feeling of guilt borne of not being able to save somebody, or survivor’s guilt. A person burdened by such guilt looking in the metaphorical mirror must face a metaphorical Bloody Mary waiting to pass judgement.

Quite rightly, this judgement is not just, as indeed feelings of guilt, self-blame and survivor’s guilt are unjust. A discussion of the subject on Supernatural Therapy podcast raised the topic of self-blame when in fact one is not to blame: blaming ourselves is an attempt to feel in control of something and to understand it a little better. The deaths which the ill-fated father and Charlie blame themselves for are incomprehensible.

I can say from my own experience that losing a friend or loved one to suicide is impossible to understand. Grandparents dying of age is natural, and older relatives dying of long-term illness is understandable, though unjust. But when our driving instinct is supposed to be to stay alive, a friend’s or family member’s commission of self-murder undermines completely our comprehension of the world and our reality. It’s traumatic, and the mind seeks to understand and cope with something it simply can’t handle.

Returning to Supernatural Therapy, our feelings of guilt are misplaced attempts to control and understand, but they are more negative than positive. Thus Bloody Mary is an apt villain to don the role of avenging spirit in this episode, as she attacks people who feel guilty, regardless of whether or not they truly are responsible for a death.

This episode ties itself into the Sam’s character particularly closely, as Sam feels himself to blame for Jessica’s death. At first, his guilt is depicted as completely natural: he watched his possibly-pregnant girlfriend burn to death on his ceiling and was utterly unable to help her. Anybody in that situation would be dealing with guilt on top of bereavement and trauma, so he is naturally somebody Bloody Mary would go after. However, the revelation that he had ‛dreams’ (read: premonitions) about Jess’s death for days before it happened add another layer to his guilt.

That layer, of course, being his actual guilt in taking no measures whatsoever to ensure Jess’s safety. Sam is not a blue-eyed baby in 1x01: he is a man with deep knowledge of the supernatural world and was reckless to ignore them. It is never made explicit – unless something has slipped my mind – whether Sam had any experience or knowledge of humans with psychic powers, but it is clear that he knows about the paranormal. Any Muggle would be disturbed by having exactly the same dream of a loved one dying night after night, but would likely pass it off as stress, anxiety or some such. Sam’s no Muggle, and knows better. Was having a ‛normal’ life so important to him that he dismissed and ignored warning signs that the abnormal was coming for his lady? Is Sam partially responsible for Jess’s death here?

Knowing what I know of the circumstances surrounding Jess’s death, he likely couldn’t have stopped it, even had he called Dean and John for help. But he should have called them, and chose not to. If he had done so, she might have been saved. This is death by negligence.

What makes it worse is that he is aware that keeping his visions a secret got Jess killed, but at the end of the episode acts as though he is perfectly justified in retaining his secrets from Dean. Dangerous secrets overtly related to their mother’s death and the demon responsible for killing her, information which would be very useful to Dean and John if shared, but a danger if kept quiet. He learnt that not divulging his secret is dangerous for people around him, and elected to continue not divulging said secret to Dean. Please, dear viewer, bear this in mind in series 7, 8, 9, 15 and every other time Sam gets pissy at Dean for keeping things secret from him.

He even knows in this episode that keeping his secrets almost got Dean killed by Bloody Mary, but ‛just because we’re brothers, doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything’. Sam is supposed to be the hero of this piece...

Yes, some people are genuinely like that, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them, and I sure as Hell don’t like Sam. In the first five episodes, Dean is established as a flawed, contradictory hero who actually brings something to the table. Sam’s an entitled, spoilt prick who treats his brother like a joke and an embarrassment.

Returning to the theme of suicide and guilt, one thing that is not addressed in the episode is the dad’s own relationship to the mother’s death. That she overdosed on sleeping tablets heavily implies suicide, but for about half of the run time the viewer is expected to believe the father was somehow involved in her death, i.e. that he killed her, especially as the second victim was guilty of a hit and run where a boy died. What is never addressed, however, is that his guilt and the reason Bloody Mary targeted him is that he blamed himself for not being able to prevent his wife’s suicide. Charlie is allowed the catharsis of expressing her grief to Dean and Sam, but the father is not afforded the same opportunity.

Apropos Charlie, her precise meaning when she said her ex-boyfriend got ‛scary’ is left occult. He clearly suffered serious mental health problems, something which a lot of people simply aren’t equipped to handle, especially when the one suffering is a close friend or partner. Young male victims of suicide also tend to have been very good at wearing a mask to hide: did he try taking the mask off for her, and she didn’t like what she saw? From what little information she gives us, the implication is that he threatened her with violence or that he used hard drugs or something, but the viewer is at no point privy to what she means by ‛scary’ or to the man’s side of things.

Whether or not the young man intended to frighten and manipulate Charlie by threatening her with his suicide is also unclear. ‛If you walk out that door, I’ll kill myself’ can mean different things depending on tone and context, ranging from a desperate plea for help against an overwhelming mental illness to abusive, sadistic mind games. Having lost more than one man to suicide, the idea that someone would use it as a weapon is inconceivable, but without further information I simply can’t say.

From what little information we have, the man’s suicide was not Charlie’s fault. If we assume he was threatening her to keep her with him, she was right to run. Nobody should be mistreated or burdened like that, and no relationship should be built on a foundation of such abuse. She is important, too. Even if it weren’t a threat, the situation was intensely unhealthy for everybody involved and she was very justified in distancing herself. It wasn’t her fault, and I just wish Dean had told her that in the motel room, rather than simply talking about it to Sam in the car afterwards.

Speaking of said conversation in the car, Dean’s heart was in the right place as he tried to get Sam to stop blaming himself, but he perhaps revealed his own lack of coping tools whilst doing so. Dean is intelligent and empathetic, and far more caring than people give him credit for, but he was raised in an environment where he was not allowed to talk about his fears and anxieties. Nor was he provided any tools whatsoever to facilitate understanding and processing his traumas and illnesses; John wanted him as an emotionally-dead weapon to use in his war against Mary’s killer.

Dean feels, but with no healthy tools nor anybody to acknowledge and help in processing his issues, he bottles things up and pushes them aside as best he can. Of course, the best he can is not all that best, wherefore the drinks and the sex and the gallows humour. This is John’s echo in Dean: John silenced him, and Dean therefore is not best equipped to process his own trauma at the beginning of series 1, much less counsel somebody else (though this changes as the years go by and he learns how to act without John stymieing him).

He meant well in telling Sam he can’t carry on blaming himself for Jess’s death, but the problem is Sam can’t stop blaming himself. Nobody in Sam’s situation can stop themselves feeling what s/he’s feeling, and has to simply feel it. I knew my friend’s suicide wasn’t my fault, but grief, bereavement, and survivor’s guilt are not rational and can’t be controlled by the cognitive mind. The feeling mind is the one in control, all the cognitive mind can do is make suggestions and hope for the best.

Regarding grief and Sam’s situation, Sam’s nightmare and his conversation with Dean at the beginning of the episode are about as explicit as Sam’s grief for Jess gets int eh show, and it’s not much at all. They were together for maybe two years, she was possibly pregnant with his child and died on the ceiling above him, but he doesn’t do any actual mourning or grieving most of the time. That itself is okay as some peolel take years before they’re ready to process grief and bereavement, but Sam behaves like a slightly disgruntled, moody teenager which we’re supposed to interpret as him grieving Jess’s death, but we see next to no actual grief, trauma or expression of loss.

His discussion with Dean is supposed to give us the idea that this is a recurrent event, but it is very, very far from sufficient to genuinely make us believe that Sam is anything other than a little bit sad for Jess.

We have, however, already established that Sam is partially responsible for Jess’s death, but Dean doesn’t know that. In spite of it not being the most productive thing Dean could have said, it was valid. Grieving is natural and uncontrollable, but how we react to it is at least partially within the jurisdiction of the cognitive mind. We can’t resist grief, as even denying it acknowledges its presence, but rather we have to accept it as a natural part of life to be endured and felt, but not be controlled by it.

Similarly, Mary is herself a victim of trauma, having been murdered by her lover. Understandably, her mentis is significantly non compos after the experience, and killing people she deems to be guilty is perhaps her way of trying to process what happened to her. Referring once again to Supernatural Therapy podcast, Jovanna Burke (who played Mary in this episode) states she believed Mary saw herself as a vigilante trying to get restitution for people wronged by killing their murderers, but her world-view became so skewed and she lost all concept of a grey area. For her, things were black or white: guilty or not guilty. Dean as good as says that there is only guilty or not guilty for Mary: if somebody thinks their actions or lack thereof got somebody killed, that person’s guilty. Sam, after all, didn’t kill Jess, Charlie didn’t kill her ex-boyfriend and I don’t believe the father had a part in the mother’s death.

I would add to this that such thinking sounds like a trauma victim’s survival mechanism. If things are easily understood as either / or, good / bad, safe / dangerous, the risk of danger is theoretically reduced. Think wild animals assuming humans are going to kill them: it’s safest to assume and run away.

This has been quite the lengthy discourse on mirrors, but it’s time to switch from the metaphorical and symbolical to the more practical, that being the exact nature of how the magic works. Mary was bound to the mirror she died in front of, but as long as that mirror remained intact, she was free to wonder the mirror world when summoned. In the climax of the episode, Dean and Sam summon her to her mirror in the antique shop, smash it, then face her manifest form in the real world. Dean defeats her by showing her her own reflection in another mirror, whereupon her own reflection deems her guilty of multiple homicides and kills her.

Hawk-eyed readers will have noticed already, but if Mary’s power was bound to her mirror, how then could her own reflection have killed her when the mirror binding her was smashed? Was the source of her power in her, then, rather than the mirror? If so, then how would her seeing her own reflection killed her? A ghost in Supernatural doesn’t have the power to destroy itself like that: it simply can’t. A ghost has refused the Reaper’s invitation to pass on, and can’t therefore pass on, yet Mary does. I can’t make this make sense.

One more thing about that scene is that Dean’s eyes began bleeding, implying he is also hiding a secret where somebody died. Fans made a big number out of this at the time, and Kripke promised us we would find out in due course… but we never did. This is the first instance of one of Dean’s storylines getting dropped by the show, and it’s far from being the last one.

Kripke didn't like Dean. Dean was supposed to be the dumb, womanising popular guy who always gets the women but 'treats them badly' in comparison to Sam's sensitive nice guy act. Sam was Kripke's insert, and Dean was just a character the audience wasn't supposed to like either, so he didn't bother giving Dean his own storylines. Even series 3 is more about Sam's anger and 'grief' than it is Dean's.

Now that the main points are out of the way, there are more minor points in the episode to comment on. One is the lovely cinematography, especially during the cold open / prologue. I began this review by stating that mirrors are important in this episode, and the camerawork in the beginning really drive that home. Moreover, seeing Mary reflected in so many mirrors – and indeed seeing so many reflections – blurs the line between the real world and the mirror world.

The children’s sleepover is also pleasantly lit, with very dark shadows and lots of candlelight evoking the feel of a ghost story. The shot in the library with the rays of light shining on the boys also looked wonderful, and the visual storytelling in the antique shop at the end was impressive. Said visual storytelling refers to the close up shot of a blinking red light, followed shortly after by the headlights of the police cars drifting across the wall. This is intelligent storytelling that expects the viewer to be paying attention, and it’s definitely appreciated.

In spite of my apathy for Jess as a character, the final shot of Sam seeing her on the pavement was fantastic cinematography: as with the flashing lights, it told us a story without needing to tell us anything. Sam saw her, and then she disappeared. Coming at the end of an episode about Sam’s guilt, and roughly a minute after his advice to Charlie about not blaming herself, this strongly suggests something has changed in Sam: the guilt that he was holding on to has begun to ease, or even vanish. It is, however, just a suggestion, and Sam giving Charlie a therapy session he sorely needs doesn’t mean he’s going to follow his own advice.

I wish, however, that more had been revealed about the kind of pills the father was taking in the cold open.

Speaking of the library – which we weren’t –do you remember when Wi-Fi didn’t exist? I remember. Currently I’m sitting about two metres away from my computer which is tethered to my mobile phone, typing on a wireless keyboard, using a wireless mouse in a room with no working ethernet cable or modem, listening to sounds of an oil rig on Bluetooth headphones, but in 2005 none of that was possible. There’s almost as much time between now and then as there was between my birth and ABBA winning Eurovision in Brighton in 1974.

Which is a nice segue into the soundtrack of the episode. The music in the opening is effective, being both reminiscent of the prologue of 1x01 with its minimalistic, slow piano track building tension and unease, but with an underlying hollow, howling wind sound that I can only liken to the dementors in Harry Potter.

Less impressive, however, was Mary’s dialogue, showing a complete lack of effort put into it. ‛You killed them, you’re guilty’, ‛you did it, you killed that boy’.

I rewatched this episode for the first time in 12 years in December 2020, by myself in a silent flat very late at night. I was 29, and this episode still creeped me out, making me hesitant to look at the window in case my reflection moved. Whilst it’s not my favourite episode, it’s certainly a solid effort with a memorable – if dated – antagonist in a self-contained MOTW story. Like the pilot, it showcased Kripke’s initial conception of the show as being about American folklore (although Bloody Mary is very much a British thing, too), and boasts a very atmospheric miniature horror show. It also offers character development and growth, even thought Sam’s claim that he would die for Dean is laughable in retrospect.

After once more exploring folk tales in 1x05, in next week's analysis of episode 1x06 Skin I'll be looking at how the show expands its daemonology by introducing a series staple.

[missbugaboo]

Marimag Mayhem (2)

As a fourth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Marinette was sure that life could no longer surprise her. And yet, even she could hardly believe her eyes when she first laid them on the blond boy she met, in the Requirement Room that she had not expected to find. The boy with cat eyes. The boy with cat ears. Chat Noir.

Marichat May, Hogwarts AU.

fanfiction.net / AO3

tagging @marichatmay, as requested ^^

Day 2: Bell

"Okay, but there is one thing I really can't understand, no matter how hard I try," Marinette's new acquaintance said nonchalantly, seated comfortably on the couch right next to the armchair she had picked for herself. "I mean, you're a Gryffindor, right? Gryffindor students are proud. Not in the same way the Slytherins are... but still. And yet here you are, openly making fun of your own House, mocking the one quality that others only boast about. Why?"

It'd been a good few minutes since Marinette had made up her mind about staying in the mystery room, and yet, these were the first words her companion had said to her since then. She didn't know whether it was his anxiety showing itself again - after all, the little displays from afore were enough to make her realise that his buoyant behaviour was really just a front meant to conceal the fears that ran inside him, even though she could hardly tell what those problems really were right now....

...Or if he was just busy forming the question he'd just asked to talk about anything else.

Well, she supposed a question like this demanded some thinking on his part.

"I don't know," she answered him, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. "It's an honest opinion. Do I really need a logical argument for the way I feel about things?"

"There must be some reason for it though, there always is," he disagreed. "Even if it's completely subjective. But also... It just doesn't make sense."

"What doesn't make sense is that we've been chatting for at least ten minutes now, Cat-Boy, and you still haven't told me your name. Now that's weird."

The boy in front of her only grinned.

"Funny thing, since I don't remember hearing yours, Griffin-Girl," he parried easily. "Besides, you're changing the subject. Why are you against your own House?"

"I'm not against it. All I did was suggest that in most cases, the so-called Gryffindor Courage has more to do with thoughtlessness than bravery. It's not like it never works - sometimes that little bit of carelessness is what you need to take the first steps you wouldn't have taken otherwise. Still, as useful as it can be sometimes, it's hardly something to be particularly proud of. Not to mention, more often than not it only causes you more trouble."

"Does it really?"

Marinette nodded.

"Are you talking from experience? I just want to make sure, since you seem terribly confident in that belief."

"I've been in this school, in this House for more than three years now. All of my closest friends are in Gryffindor and trust me, some of them are like a textbook definition of it, both in terms of bravery and recklessness alike. And frankly, half the time I could burst with how proud I am of them; if only I didn't spend the other half on a verge of a heart attack, worrying for their safety as they set off to their next stunt. They are brave, I'm not saying that they're not. But much as I love them, they also can be a bunch of fools sometimes."

He didn't answer her immediately, and not even some moments later. Slightly surprised, Marinette glanced at him, half expecting to see him pondering over what she'd just said, or perhaps even catch him attending to something entirely different and therefore not at all focused on the explanation he himself had asked for.

Instead, she was met with a steady, imploring gaze, so intense that she suddenly wanted to curl up and hide behind her armchair instead of sitting comfortably on it.

He didn't even know what her name was and yet, she felt like another ten seconds of watching her like this would allow him to discover more about her than she'd ever told anyone.

It would have been scary if it hadn't been so incredibly kind.

He was worried about her.

"And why are you talking about them and not about you?" he asked before she could react in any way. "You are a Gryffindor, too, and yet not once have I heard you speak of yourself as a part of your House. How is that possible?"

"That's... That's not what I did at all!" she protested now, her cheeks flushing red all of the sudden. "I mean, okay, maybe it sounded like it. A little. But that's not the case here!"

"Isn't it?"

"No! I love my friends. And I'm more than happy that I've had the chance to get to know them, which wouldn't have happened if we'd been sorted into different Houses, and we are a team, so whatever you're trying to imply here -"

"I wasn't implying anything," he cut her off. "You on the other hand, have just implied a whole lot of things yourself."

Marinette looked at him, unable to make a sensible comment on her part. His eyes were still fixed on hers, his gaze just as meaningful as before, if not more so, now additionally filled with comprehension that hadn't been there earlier. She swallowed hard, realising she'd accidentally blurted out her most cherished secret - the most uncomfortable, unwelcome truth, one that she'd been trying to squash ever since her first day at Hogwarts twenty long months ago.

And she did that in front of someone she'd known for less than a quarter of an hour altogether.

How had he managed to provoke her to do that?

"You don't think you belong there, do you?" he heard him ask with the same warm sternness that she could've already seen in his look. "You don't think you should have been put in Gryffindor to begin with. Is that correct?"

"It's not that simple," she opposed weakly and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin against her knees. "The people in our House, they really are like family to me. Alya, Nino, Alix... They are the best comrades I could have wished for. And it's not just them, it really goes for most of the students. So no, I wouldn't say I don't belong there... In fact, I'm grateful that the Sorting Hat had decided to put me in that place. I just never really understood why."

Her interlocutor's gaze softened a bit as he smiled fondly at her. "Not feeling enough of a moron yourself, huh?"

Marinette's blush only grew deeper.

"More like, I'm not the right type," she mumbled. "Of a moron, that is. And even then, there's much more to it than just my intelligence. I'm... I'm a klutz. I'm awkward and clumsy and whatever you might say about Gryffindor students, they're not that. I don't have that laid back attitude they usually show, or the confidence that makes them dive without thinking into the worst of messes because they simply can't imagine not getting themselves out of it. But first and foremost..."

She paused and looked away, unconsciously starting to worry at her lip. She closed her eyes, too, shut them tight in an display of obvious chagrin, before concluding:

"I just don't think I'm brave enough. Not in the way they expect me to be."

She hid her face in her knees, her embrace around her calves tightening even further. She didn't want to admit that; didn't want to give voice to the fears she'd been trying so hard to ignore.

So why did she?

"There are many kinds of courage, though," her companion told her then. "You look like a smart girl, you must realise that. I mean, that's basically what you've just said, so you do, so... You know."

"Actually, I'm not sure I do," she replied; her voice was quiet, however, there now was a faint hint of amusement in it. "But that's fine. It doesn't really matter."

"It clearly does to you!" he opposed her. "You wouldn't be sitting like this if it didn't."

Marinette growled.

"Oh, and now you're a character judge, too? Weren't you supposed to be like, bad with human relations or something?"

"I'm only telling what I see."

"Well, I bet those cat eyes are helping a lot."

He laughed then, a full, sonorous laughter that made it impossible for Marinette not to look up at him again. He covered his mouth with his hand immediately, undoubtedly trying to stifle it. He failed miserably, snorting and coughing awkwardly, while at the same time, his eyes remained so full of mirth that even a deaf person would have had no trouble guessing how he really felt.

Marinette regarded him for a moment, completely at a loss as to what she should do next - how she should respond to this sudden reaction of his.

Her words had been anything but cordial, and yet, he was laughing?

"I'm sorry, it's just... The way you said it..." he explained in between the chuckles. "I don't know, I probably shouldn't have laughed. Only... It's so good to finally have someone to banter with like this."

His hand was pressed at the nape of his neck again, as he rubbed it awkwardly, a sheepish expression once more reflecting on his face. Marinette eyes him for a moment, not sure how to respond - not like it was anything new, really - and instead chose to wait for him to add something on his part.

He must have noticed her confusion because he froze in place the next moment, raising both of his hands in a gesture that looked both defensive and apologetic, and said, "No! I mean, bantering probably isn't the best word for it, is it? After all, you don't really banter with someone you've just met, and surely not so early into the conversation, right? It's something you do with your friends, and only the close ones, because obviously, it's a delicate matter and it's foolish to assume you might even want to banter with someone like me. Someone you don't know at all! I mean, how crazy would that be? I don't even know your name, we couldn't be further from close."

He stopped talking then, as if ashamed of letting himself be carried away in this manner. His jaw clenched as he turned away, his very real cat ears flat against his head; the change in him so sudden that for a second there Marinette was sure that her mind was playing tricks on her.

Just how anxious was that boy?

He could successfully rival with me right now, she thought, concerned. And at my worst moments, too. Not to mention, even I don't shift so swiftly.

"Marinette," she said out loud, hoping the simple introduction would be enough to chase away some of the awkwardness; magic knew there was nothing else she could think of. "My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And I'm more than pleased to meet you."

Acting entirely on instinct, she reached out her hand towards him; hearing her words, he looked back at her again and then blinked, clearly taken aback but the gesture that accompanied them. His gaze went from her face to hand and back again, so many times that Marinette started to think that he might not take it after all, and almost withdrew it - but then he made his move, grasping her hand and squeezing it firmly, as if he'd been afraid that she might fade away if he hadn't.

She smiled warmly.

He really was a puzzle to her.

"So, since you know my name now, Chaton," she added when she realised that he was not going to say anything on his part. "Do you think we can be friends, banter and all?"

The smile he gave her in return was the most grateful expression she'd ever been gifted with.

Good Godric, he was practically glowing.

"Banter and all. Yes, please," he replied eagerly. "I mean, yes, I'd like that. Very, very much."

"Great, then it looks like we've got a deal," Marinette giggled. "No backing off now."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Their conversation was cut off abruptly by the sound of the bell, announcing the end of Marinette's break. She nearly jumped upon hearing it, letting go of her partner's hand and turning rapidly towards the entrance of the room, surprised.

Was it really time to go already?

"I... must have miscalculated how much time it took me to come here," she said timidly, glancing back at the boy by her side. "I really gotta go, or I'll be late to Transfiguration and I definitely don't want to get on Professor Mendeleyev's bad side again. I... guess I'll see you around?"

Before he could answer her, Marinette was back on her feet with both her books and wand held securely in her tight grip. She flashed him a smile and waved at him. Then she was off, running towards the exit (she sure hoped it was an exit as well) with the speed of a Quidditch champion in their prime.

"Wait, but I haven't told you-" her companion called after her, but it was too late. The door had opened and closed and she was no longer there, with nothing but his own memory to remind him of her.

...my name, he finished in his thoughts, dazed. Then he shook his head and took a deep breath, determined not to give in to the disappointment he felt at her sudden departure and, even though there was no one there to see it, he forced himself to smile.

It was the beginning, not the end.

One way or another, he would see her again.

Even if you don't come, even if you forget, I won't let you get rid of me that easily, he vowed. After all... we've got ourselves a deal, ma Belle.

[akitokihojo]

Enchanted - Part 2

Inuyasha was easily growing distracted by just the thought of her. He was being scolded for the work he had building up, his mind out the window and over the walls of his grounds. Sometimes, the urge to see her became too overwhelming, so he found himself sneaking out in the dead of night. Not every time did he find her, and to be honest, he was grateful for that. He recognized very quickly that he didn't like her out late on her own, and the few times that he did run into her, whether it be collecting specific herbs that thrived in the evening or walking home from some sort of medicinal delivery, he wasn't able to bite back the frustration that developed. He'd offer to walk her home, she'd respectfully decline, then he'd begrudgingly walk her home anyway. Her only excuse was ever, "It can't be helped." After a few times, despite his incessant lecturing of the dangers, he noticed her smiling from the corner of his eye, almost appearing comfortable with their walks. He’d put up a front for the sake of his argument, but inevitably softened from her warmth. 

Seeing her was like a dosage of medicine, and when he went days without, he craved the satiation she provided. He knew he needed to be serious about things. He had responsibilities, and he couldn't afford to tip anyone off that he'd been sneaking out. Miroku would have his head, and if word got to the king, hell would open up and swallow him whole. The prince was falling behind, becoming sloppy, so he pushed himself to focus. If he went a specific amount of days without jumping the wall, if he caught up with the pile of paperwork on his desk, and didn't lose form during combat training, he'd allow himself a few hours outside as a reward. Of course, he'd take the woodland route. If he was spotted, especially at night, he was done for. If his name or title was risked to be heard, his cover was blown.

Inuyasha obviously didn't know what he wanted. He couldn't be Koga forever, and quite frankly, personally knowing the actual owner of the name, he should have chosen wiser. It was a moment of anonymity, and he grasped for it. Now there was a part of him that wished she knew him. Really knew him; who he was, his favorites, his dislikes. But then what? What did he want to come of that? How would she react to his blatant lie? It was too soon to tell, but in that regard he had to ask himself, how long could he get away with this?

"From the fort, Your Highness." A messenger entered, holding out a sealed envelope for Inuyasha to take. Without hesitation, the prince opened the message, reading it thoroughly.

"What is it?" Sango asked, noticing the deep crinkle in his brow.

"They were attacked." Inuyasha responded, the words clenched in his throat. "They fended whoever it was off, but troops were hurt."

"Any casualties?" Miroku apprehensively inquired, the tension heavy in the air.

"It's not stated."

"And the attacker?"

"They don't know. They were snuck up on." The prince had yet to peel his eyes from the paper in his hands, reading it twice over before looking to the messenger standing at the door. "Get word to them that we're on our way."

The messenger bowed, doing a stiff one-eighty before hastily heading out. Inuyasha turned to his aides, both of them awaiting their instructions.

"I want three more men to come along with us. Have the horses readied, we're leaving in an hour."

"Wait. Inuyasha, what do you think this means?" Miroku stepped forward, indigo eyes steady.

"We won't know that until we see the damage for ourselves. Most importantly, my soldiers are hurt. If we are under attack, we can't expect them to be a formidable line of defense if we don't tend to whatever they may need. I want Koga as one of our troops, I trust you to choose the other two."

"Understood."

"Sango, make sure we have additional supplies, including food. I don't have word on their rations and I won't have anyone skipping meals."

"Understood." She nodded.

"What about a medic? Should we call for Kaede?" Miroku asked.

"No, she needs to be here for Rin. We'll bring Totosai to help the fort's medic tend to the injured."

"I'll send for him now."

"I'll meet you in an hour." Inuyasha said, eyes shifting out the window. He heard the stomp of Sango and Miroku's boots as they left him to do as they were instructed, and it wasn't until the noise had completely faded when he swiftly turned on his heal and headed out the back way.

He wanted to tell her. Chances were strong that he'd be gone for a minimum of two weeks, considering the time it took to travel there in the first place. Inuyasha felt more comfortable with the idea of her knowing he had to leave. Maybe she'd be a little more cautious while he was away and consciously make sure she was home around the time it got dark. At the very least, she could manage that during the span where he couldn't make sure she was safe, himself.

It was broad daylight, but he knew his path around the wall of the grounds well. The concealment of darkness made it easier, but it wasn't impossible to sneak by while it was still busy out. Once his boots collided with the soft earth of the forest floor just outside, he got running. He had little time to waste, and could only hope she was near Kaede's shop or in the small cabin out back that she’d claimed as her own. As he approached, he slowed, allowing his enhanced senses to take over, finding her sweet scent leading him towards the herbalist's doors. Just as well, Kaede's scent was powerful too. They were in there together.

His muscles gradually grew more rigid with each step. He wondered if Kaede could take a hint as easily as his aides had come to understand him, the direct look of his eyes bringing them to immediately follow his lead in whatever scenario. She was a smart woman, highly intuitive. Having seen too much in her age, she was willing to do whatever to keep the peace and spread compassion. Could he trust her not to say anything if he signaled for her to keep quiet, or would she speak too soon for him to catch her?

With no more time to contemplate, the prince grasped the knob of the door to the shop, slowly twisting it open, ignoring the unsettling feeling in his abdomen. Behind the counter, he saw Kagome, her nose close to a book as she silently lipped what it read, the petals of a plant held loosely in her right palm. There was no squeak to the hinge of the door, so when she finally noticed him standing there, she perked up, a soft smile greeting him. Quickly, the prince pressed a finger to his lips, ember eyes briefly glancing at the elderly woman sitting near the fire at the side of the room. Her back was facing him as she worked to grind medicine in a bowl, completely unaware of him standing in the doorway. As he glanced back at Kagome again, he gestured for her to follow him outside with a flick of his head. Her brows had furrowed slightly, perplexity written in the downward curve of her lips, but she didn't hesitate to do as he asked. She curved around the counter, the apothecary not even bothering to look up as she passed, and followed him out into the small field, shutting the door behind her.

"Hey." Inuyasha breathed. 

“Hi.” Kagome half expected him to fill the silence; it seemed he had a lot to say, yet in that moment his lips were sealed and eyes unsure. “Is - uh - is everything okay?”

It was like his brain had become foggy. Why was he here? Why was he so set on her knowing he had to leave? Interestingly enough, whatever nerves that had built from the message he’d received from the fort at the border of their country was beginning to dwindle away. The longer he stood there in her presence, the calmer he felt.

He was losing his damn mind.

“I’m not sure yet.” The prince answered, running his fingers back through his hair as he tried to clear his thought process. “But I have to leave. On a mission. With the prince.”

“Oh.” Was the only thing she could manage to say for a moment, her body stiffening moderately. "Did you need some -"

"N-no. I didn't come here for anything. I just wanted you to know."

"Okay." She gave a slow nod, one that grew as the comprehension sank in. She couldn't help the awkwardness that was gradually building, decidedly passing the petals she still had in her hand from one palm to the other in an attempt to keep herself somewhat rooted. "Is it dangerous?"

"You never know with these sort of things. The potentials there."

"Be safe, then." 

Inuyasha was the one to nod this time, uncertainty filling him like trickling liquid as he continued to question his initial purpose for coming. As he turned on his heel, he felt a little idiotic. There was no plan in the first place, he could finally see that. He'd just given himself a cheap excuse to see her before not being able to for an undetermined period of time. That was it. And now he was walking away prematurely, the realization of just how hopeless he was steadily replacing the uncertainty. Ironically, he liked the feeling. It was new. It held promise.

Suddenly antsy from the distance, the prince swung back around, marching back toward the girl with intention. "For the love of god, would you please try to be home before dark?"

"Oh, I knew it! I knew that wasn't all!"

"I don't think I'm asking for much here!"

"You know, I've been doing this a lot longer than you think, and I've carried my own pretty well!"

"That doesn't mean it has to keep happening! Would you just shut up and listen to me for once?"

"It has to be done, Koga!"

"But why does it have to be done then? Why not the next morning?"

"Because Kaede has a lot on her plate being the main pharmacist for an entire town, and with her weekly - sometimes multiple times a week - appointments with the princess! She's too old to carry the weight of this all on her own! Besides that, some people are too sick to even get out of bed! It has to be brought to them, and I don't mind being the one to do that!"

He huffed, the sound gruff and long as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, can you just do this for me while I'm away?"

"You act like you walk me home every night." Kagome rolled her eyes.

"Just -" Inuyasha groaned, simultaneously frustrated and amused. "Please?"

She pause, fighting a smile. She could see the fire in his eyes. Though there was a hint of venom in his tone, his expression lacked the depth to convince her of anything. He was serious, she could tell that much, but he wasn't quite as flustered as he was letting off. "I'll be fine."

"Kagome."

"I promise." She gently assured. "I've got a heck of an arm."

"Tiny arms." The prince mumbled.

"Keep saying that and I'll show you." She warned.

He chuckled, once more running his fingers through his short, untidy hair. "Just be in one piece when I get back."

As he walked away, Kagome felt a tickling flutter within her belly. From her angle, she could still see the upturn of his lips, swelling the feeling. Her cheeks grew warm, and she finally gave in to the smile, calling out for him. He stopped, looking over his shoulder, bright eyes patiently waiting.

"One condition." She began.

"What's that?"

"You have to be in one piece, too."

Without thought, Inuyasha walked back her way, a finger delicately smoothing over the loose hair that framed her face, pushing it behind her ear. "I'll do my best." 

Three weeks later

Inuyasha slowed his horse by pulling on the reigns, the steeds of his soldiers' bobbing back and forth nearby as they were welcomed back in the main courtyard by countless smiling faces. It had been a long journey, longer than intended but necessary once he recognized the damage done to his fort and his men. 

The prince stepped down to the ground, giving his companion for the venture a pat of appreciation, smoothing over her hair as a handler came to retrieve the reigns from him. 

"How was the trip, Your Highness?"

"It was good. Worth it. Thank you." He smiled, giving his mare another pet. "Take good care of her tonight, she deserves the break."

"Of course."

"Uncle!" A high-pitched shout caught his undivided attention, and Inuyasha spun around, pushing his cloak out of the way so he could kneel and catch his young niece running straight at him. Happily, he lifted the little girl up in his arms, holding her close for a long-overdo and very needed hug. "I've missed you!"

"How's it been, kid? You been wreaking havoc in my place like I told you to?"

"You bet! Mama says she much prefers your havoc, because it isn't her problem!"

Inuyasha laughed, not doubting those exact words had come from the queen.

"Papa says he wants to see you as soon as you're back."

"Well, you tell your papa I'll see him once I'm good and ready."

"I'm eight, I'm not stupid." Rin deadpanned, hands resting on Inuyasha's shoulders while he held her at his waist. "I think I've done enough of your dirty work for a while."

"Alright, alright." He drawled, playfully rolling his ember eyes. "I'll go."

"Oh! Can I come with you?" She excitedly bounced in his hold, legs kicking away from his body.

"You can walk me there, but you can't stay."

"Can I announce you?"

"I don't need an announcement." He said, beginning the trek toward the castle, not yet putting the princess down.

"But you could have one if I do it!"

"Alright, but you have to do it perfectly? Just like we practiced."

He placed his niece's feet on the floor just as they reached the inside of the doors, the little girl immediately grabbing his hand and eagerly guiding him toward the king's study. A guard stood outside, opening the door at Inuyasha's nod.

Rin straightened just outside the door, marching in as if she, herself, were a knight, pink dress twirling out as she spun to the right to face her father. "Your Majesty, His Royal Highness Uncle Inuyasha."

Inuyasha dropped his head defeatedly. It wasn't quite how they'd practiced, and he had to stifle his laughter as he imagined his brother's all too unamused face. Composing himself slightly, he entered, nonchalantly holding out his hand for Rin to high-five on her way passed.

"I wish you'd quit teaching her these things." Sesshomaru sighed, closing the book he was reading. The guard shut the door, providing a puff of hair to rustle the king's groomed hair.

"Don't lie, that was cute as hell. You're just devoid of showing any sort of joy." Inuyasha sneered, standing in place in the center of the study.

His brother barely grinned, shaking his head as he crossed the room to greet the prince, grasping his hand and clapping his shoulder with the other.

"What news do you bring?"

"Twelve injured, no deaths. The damage is reparable, and was almost completed by the time we left. Whoever the enemy was had their faces covered, and came from the Northeast, but still no clear indication on who they were. It could have been worse, though."

"Could have been better." The king walked back towards his desk, his straight expression returning as if it'd never left.

"Sesshomaru, they -"

"Were snuck up on. Which means they were not paying attention. Which means they could have failed the kingdom entirely and allowed an attack on our country."

"They fought them off! They won! The fact that someone attempted something in the first place is what we should be worried about!"

"We can only worry so much about what we can't control."

"Funny, coming from someone who tries to control everything." Inuyasha challenged.

"You will bite your tongue, younger brother." Sesshomaru demanded, the venom in his tone all that was necessary to cause the prince to stiffen and silence. "Were your soldiers punished?"

"Twelve were injured, and they're working overtime to repair the fort. I could see the guilt in their eyes. Don't you think that's punishment enough?"

"Will guilt save our kingdom from an invasion?"

Inuyasha didn't answer, swallowing thickly, eyes wavering and dropping from the contact he held with his brother's.

"No. They will undergo more training. Apparently, they need a refresher course on the concept of standing post. If you want to keep these men under your jurisdiction, Inuyasha, I suggest you send out a general. At your earliest convenience, of course." The king cocked a brow, obviously challenging the prince.

Inuyasha clenched his fists, biting back his swelling temper as he nodded curtly. "I understand."

"You're dismissed."

"What about the attackers?"

"I will figure that out."

"I should be involved."

"It was most likely a warning, Inuyasha." Sesshomaru answered directly.

"A warning for what? Isn't that something we should discuss?"

"Is it?" The king stepped inward, a fire growing in his slanted eyes. "What did you find during your investigation? Any kingdom symbols or clues of any sort? Who do you suspect? You have nothing to report back to me, and therefore you are dismissed!"

Inuyasha didn't move, his nails pinching into his palms as his fists bunched even tighter. He clenched his jaw shut, controlling his anger to subside so he wouldn't say anything regrettable. His older brother was insufferable sometimes. He looked down on him, often times telling him he was too soft and therefore fell short of what was expected of him. Sesshomaru knew how to manipulate things to work in his favor. He was intelligent and strong-willed, Inuyasha wouldn't be the first to recognize that. It made Sesshomaru a good leader. With that being acknowledged, Inuyasha was also aware that his own methods didn't make him a bad one, either. Revealing his vexation would only show his brother weakness, and he refused.

Breathing the remainder of his indignation away, Inuyasha raised his chin. "If it were another kingdom, they wouldn't have let up at the first sign of resistance. They would have come in with a storm of soldiers. Considering their faces were covered, I suspect bandits testing our strengths. Maybe to see just how much they could get away with, maybe to weaken a portion of our defense, maybe to play the spy. I don't know that much. What I do know is my soldiers stood their ground. Excuse me, sire."

With an about face, the prince promptly exited the study, his cloak rustling behind him.

--

"Please go." Miroku spoke, finally breaking through the palpable tension in Inuyasha's office. The prince had clearly been fighting the urge to stare out the window, his fingers fidgeting against his pen as his leg impatiently bobbed up and down, and it was getting on the knight's nerves.

Inuyasha froze, ember eyes landing on his aide in the corner. Sango hardly looked up from the files she was sorting through, brown eyes flickering his way, then back to what she was doing. Miroku was solid in his disposition, his posture ill as he sprawled out on the small couch next to his partner.

"Go." He repeated. "Just don't be out too long."

"Go where?" Inuyasha apprehensively asked, a cold creeping through the blood in his veins.

"Please don't play dumb." Sango said, still unfazed.

"You think we don't know where you've been going? We've followed you almost every time."

"Miroku!"

"Just go! Please! Get it out of your system, you're driving me crazy!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"You're brooding!"

"I am not!"

"Okay, fine." Miroku hopped off the couch, sauntering over to the head of Inuyasha's desk. "How much work have you filled out?"

Inuyasha hastily covered the papers before him with his body, glowering at the knight. "Back off!"

"Let me see!"

"Mind your business!"

"Hey, uh, news flash: In case you've forgotten during your daydreams of Kagome, you literally are my business!"

A wave of heat washed over Inuyasha's face, the words on his tongue dissipating as his stomach fell to the floor. He could feel his face drop, eyes widen - called out and exposed, humiliated, and completely nerve-wracked but too shocked to really do anything about it.

"Come on, Koga. Go see her. You and I both know that if you don't do it now, you're just going to cave and sneak out later. You might as well take the open opportunity."

"You really knew?"

"We know a lot of things you probably think we don't." Sango mentioned, the smirk on her lips taunting him. 

The prince stared at her incredulously, unsure how to even respond.

"Don't worry, no one else knows." Miroku waved off, walking back over to the couch. "You should have just told us."

"Because you would have let me go?" He defensively asked.

"We haven't stopped you yet."

After a moment, Inuyasha sighed, dropping any idea he had to make an excuse, the tension leaving and deflating his chest. The soul purpose of having Sango and Miroku at his side was to help him with whatever he may need; whether that be protection, information, or guidance. They didn't just work for him though. Over the years, they'd become his closest friends. He trusted them.

"I liked that she had nothing to do with my main life at first. She smiled at me not because it was a polite face to put on in front of royalty, but because I genuinely made her laugh." He admitted, propping his chin up with his fist. His eyes fluttered downward as he thought back to the melodic sound, the memory filling him with the faintest tingle of hope. "In that same regard, she never feels obligated to swallow what she wants to say. And no matter what it is, I always want to hear it. It made me feel normal for a while."

"And what do you feel now?" Sango questioned, setting the files she once worked on aside.

"Scared."

"Why?"

"Because I can't get enough of her."

A smile bloomed on Miroku's face. The prince was justifiably guarded having lived a high-profile life. He couldn't allow just anyone in, and trust was hard for an outsider to earn. Miroku knew Inuyasha better than even his brother, having the close relationship that came with his trusted role, and he can honestly say he's never seen that soft, half-mast expression on his face before. 

Ember irises glided up to meet his gaze, and without an ounce of delay, Miroku gestured toward the door with the flick of his eyes. The prince stood from his seat, not bothering to push it in as he promptly left his study.

Inuyasha seamlessly traveled through the halls without attracting any attention. The sun had yet to disappear behind the mountains, creating an amber hue to flood through the windows and reflect off the shining walls inside. Like second nature, he stuck to the barrier dividing the courtyard and the forest, finding his spot and swiftly climbing over.

"I wish you'd let me go for you." Kagome said, petting down the bridge of the nose of Kaede's rich, brown horse.

"It's nothing this old woman can't handle, child." She smiled down at her, the reigns loose in her grip. "I want you to rest tonight. Take the medicine I left for you, it'll help."

"I'm fine." She insisted, ignoring the thickness in her own voice.

"Kagome, dear," The herbalist hid her chuckle behind the back of her hand, a sympathetic curve arching in her brow. "That's impossible to believe when there's a "duh" sound being made at the end of fine."

"Really! It's just allergies!"

"And even if that were true, going into the high mountains to bring back herbs would only make your allergies worse, wouldn't it?"

"But -"

"Bed."

"Kaede -"

"Bed."

"I'm -"

"Don't say it." She openly laughed this time, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head as she prepared to leave. "You've done more than enough lately. There's nothing to worry about. I'll be back by tomorrow evening."

Kagome sighed, the steed bouncing backwards with the pull Kaede gave before they turned around and headed down the paved path at a hastened pace. She stood there, watching them fade to silhouettes in the distance. Kaede was a sneaky one. There were no orders for medication to make, and if there were, they were hidden from Kagome. The one delivery she thought she had to do today was picked up by the man's grandson just under an hour ago. Usually, whenever Kaede went to do anything overnight, Kagome was left a small checklist of things to do or prepare. Today, she found a container with a readied remedy for the common cold with a note that said, "Don't even think about chopping wood."

She couldn't help but feel useless. It was easier to keep busy than keep still as of late, and laying in bed while she was too physically uncomfortable to sleep wasn't exactly going to be the best solution to her restless mind. 

Turning around on her heel to walk back, Kagome tried to think of subtle things she could do around the shop that wouldn't be too obvious to tip Kaede off that she'd worked. She could clean a little. Get ingredients to bake a pie for her return. How would Kaede even know if she chopped some wood, honestly? She'd just done laundry, and she regretted having that already checked off her list. Alternatively, she could practice shooting with her bow and arrow; her aim was rusty so it could use some work.

"Hey."

Kagome's sights darted up from the ground, landing on the knight she'd been trying so hard not to think about, leaning against the side of her own home. He was dressed semi-formally; a dark grey coat covering most of his torso, the inner hem and sleeve edges lined with gold and rolled up to expose half of his forearms. Beneath, covering his sternum and peeking through, he wore a deep red Bastian shirt, tucked properly within black pants, which in turn were tucked neatly within brown boots, his sword complimenting his attire at his hip.

If it was written in her body language, she didn't mind. There was no attempt to hide how finally seeing him there eased the tension in her shoulders, the soft grin he gave warming her core. She smiled in return, more of relief than anything, sighing out and redirecting her path toward him.

Her cheeks were flushed before she'd even noticed him, lids blinking over dull eyes. As soon as he gathered her attention, a small light returned to her, plush lips parting slowly. Though they weren’t as pink as he was used to them being, it was still more than enough to make him glad he came.

She didn’t stop walking at any distance, her head drooping slightly as she slowly closed any existing gap, gently resting her forehead against his chest. Inuyasha’s hands hovered out to the sides of her, uneasily. He knew something was wrong. If he hadn’t heard Kaede talking, he would have clearly seen it in her features. Nonetheless, he’d never expected Kagome to come to him as she had.

“You’re back.” She breathed, her weight sinking into him just an ounce more. Like a magnet drawing him in, relinquishing his caution, Inuyasha smoothed his fingers through her hair, threading at the crown with one hand while he pushed raven strands out of her face with the other. He could feel heat seeping through his clothing, scorching his flesh, a deep-rooted concern making home in his stomach.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

The prince ran the back of his fingers over her cheek, leaning away slightly and bending at the knees to get a better look at her face as he grasped her temperature. “You have a fever.” He said, and as she gave a wane smile and shook her head, he took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding her still to look at him as he stood straight once more. 

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t do that. I told you I wanted you in one piece when I got back.”

“And I’ve yet to fall apart.” Kagome smiled cheekily. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you look it.” He teased, sarcasm heavy in his tone. She grimaced, wrinkling her nose, but he spoke again before she could rebuttal. “Where’s the medicine?”

“You’re such an eavesdropper!”

“And I’ve got some fancy ears to support the hobby. Where is it, Kagome?”

She shook her head out of his grip, tucking herself within his chest once more. Her fingers gripped his coat this time, and his arms instinctively wrapped around her.

“It’s inside.” She murmured, words muffled by his clothes. There was something else there, something causing her to tighten her hold on him. He’d never seen her this way, and though he’d recently found himself wanting to know all there was to her, he wasn’t particularly fond of seeing her riddled with any degree of anxiety. When she didn’t say anything more, only trusted him to support more weight, he understood she wasn’t ready to move from their spot just yet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was worried about you.”

Those words sank through his skin, igniting a flame in the cavity of his chest, flickering and popping like kindling encouraging wood to burn. 

“I told you, one piece.” Inuyasha whispered in response, resting his chin atop her head.

| Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Int. | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Final |

[vampexx]

Uh oh....I used my brain again....get ready lol

DISCLAIMER: I’m going to try VERY HARD to make all this comprehensive and understandable, promise. But when my wheels are turning this fast lol I have a VERY bad habit of not being able to keep up with my own thoughts so please be patient with me as I make an attempt to translate what all is going through my head at hyper speed lol so sorry in advance. Also, for clarity reasons, discussed romantic approaches between adrien and marinette are rated on a scale of 0-100.

OK, so.

That metaphor of how kagami is like a mirror (I mean, I know kagami means mirror or whatever but that’s not what I’m talking about). Ok, well I think it applies to both of them (luka AND kagami) in a literal way. Hear me out.

First: kagami and adrien. Kagami is very strong in her approach when it comes to romance (or anything in general). Very headstrong and blunt, she won’t hide how she feels or what she thinks in any circumstances, right? Now adrien isn’t necessarily that way BUT chat noir is. His approach with ladybug was very....what’s the word....tenacious lol poor thing. He never gave up, which as adorable and as loyal as it sounds to us - the fandom, came off very strong and was received kinda poorly by ladybug to be kinda aggressive I guess? NOT SAYING HE WAS HARASSING HER BECAUSE HE WASN’T! He just didn’t want to lose hope because he was CONVINCED that him and his lady were made for each other MUCH LIKE KAGAMI and her feelings regarding adrien. So, given as of late, ladybug is really the only girl he has fully and openly flirted with. I think that, as he gets closer to kagami, he will at some point take note of her really kinda protective and territorial(?) personality. Like I’m not gonna lie, it comes really close to adriens father and his raising...possessive and territorial  because again, they were raised the same way (NOT SAYING KAGAMI IS LIKE GABRIEL BECAUSE HE IS LITERAL GARBAGE, I AM IN NO WAY SAYING THAT KAGAMI IS TRASH, EVEN THOUGH I’M NOT A FAN PERSONALLY, I WOULDN’T SAY THAT BECAUSE IT’S SIMPLY NOT TRUE) I have mentioned before that their similar raising and domestic circumstances is really something they can bond over, as they should so it will boost their relationship in a friendly way no doubt, but I think that it will likely be their downfall in a romantic way. Allow me to explain...

Yes, her social issues are because of her raising, I understand that. BUT, her raising only accounts for about half of her personality in my opinion, but I’m no psychology expert mind you. I say it accounts for half because her mom is quite clearly the same way so obviously to some degree, it’s also boils down to genetics (again, MY OPINION). Her mom is strict, blunt, strong willed and has such a confidence that it comes off as egotistical (AGAIN, NO HATE INTENDED, DON’T @ ME! BEING HONEST!) Kagami has made some improvements, I will agree with that and I also agree that she has every capability to continue to improve. However....will she ever not be the way she’s known to be? Cut and dry, strong willed and blunt? No. Why? Genetics. It’s the personality she was born with, she just wasn’t done any favors by the way she was raised, which made it worse and made her evidently unlikable and hard to relate to, thus her having no social life or social skills.

Back to adrien. He will take note of how kagami’s approach to romance can be very off putting and intense, seeing how it can rub people the wrong way. I think he will hopefully make the connection in his head, as in he will see how and why chat noir was not successful in his attempts with ladybug, and having an understanding of ladybugs perspective for a change. He will see this and recognize that style of romantic approach isn’t a good fit for him, given how gentle adrien can be on the contrary to chat noir (who yes, is gentle and just as sensitive but is FAR MORE open and flirtatious), and will then make an effort to maybe not just slow his flirting approach from a strong 100 down to a 50 but also see how since he has so many romantic loose ends emotionally, he will continue to insist that he is NOT ready for a relationship given the emotional wreck that is his heart (or at least in my opinion, he should insist because...logic lol, don’t know how else to put it). I mean understand, he has such intense love for ladybug that won’t go away, feelings for kagami that I’m personally not really convinced are romantic (at least, not on his part), and we all know the underlying feelings he has for marinette that he is doomed to have to face sometime soon. It will be nothing short of chaotic, that’s for sure.

To sum up for adrien, kagami will be his mirror for his past romantic approaches as chat noir and will decide to tone it down a bit or just pause completely after seeing the flaws that come with it. But still, it will knock him down from say 100 (give or take) to more like a 50.

Still with me? OK...half way there lol

Second: marinette and luka. Luka is definitely interested in marinette, don’t get me wrong. It’s pretty evident. HOWEVER, as interested as he has shown to be romantically via those couple of times with marinette, literally every other time luka and marinette have interacted, it’s been like 95% friendly, or at least, IT COMES OFF THAT WAY** (hold that thought ok? Remember that). So Luka reads as a confusing character for me because, yes he has made it clear that he likes marinette via small, less intimidating approaches, but he still otherwise kinda comes off to me as also somewhat....disinterested(?)(for lack of a better word). What I mean is this, he said nice things in silencer and felix, I agree with that too, but really that’s all he has done pretty much lol if we’re honest. Like marinette, his romantic approaches however meaningful and sweet they were, were still very few and far between. Otherwise, it’s been seemingly a completely friendly relationship, which THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH (DON’T @ ME OK?). That’s what I mean when I say that he comes off as interested and somewhat disinterested at the same time. Like, to me, it’s this kinda vibe: if you like me, cool / if you don’t like me, cool lol. That’s what I mean when I say disinterested, as in, he could go either way (either being with marinette or not) and he be completely cool with it and HE HAS CONFIRMED THIS in felix. It’s confusing to marinette because he’s not really vying for her attention which explains why she said in the marinette on luka video, that she can’t stop thinking about her feelings for adrien, even with luka (I mean duh, I know those feelings are also never gonna go away) BECAUSE luka’s approach isn’t bold enough in my book to really capture more of marinettes romantic attention like it kinda needs to if lukanette is gonna happen. Does that make sense? God I hope so lol.

Like adrien with kagami, I think marinette will take notes on lukas approach to be like her mirror, seeing how somewhat ineffective it can be. She will see the flaws in her approach however gentle, tender and non-threatening it may be, it just isn’t bold enough to really advocate for herself romantically like we all know she deserves. Like I said earlier, that kind of approach can come off as CONFUSING and mainly FRIENDLY** (there’s the thought I told you to hold onto). That would explain why adrien got mixed messages from marinette, one day he thinks they good friends (*facepalm*) and then the next, she seems so standoffish (granted, mainly from her nerves, unlike luka) that it kinda comes off as, again, DISINTERESTED (the same meaning written above still applies, not really giving adrien solid/ definitive signals either way) again, much like luka. 

She will note all of this and maybe realize that she needs to be a little bolder in her approach in order to properly stand up for herself romantically. She will learn that, yes she has made bold attempts with adrien (*applause*) and will also hopefully see how she may have counteracted them with some not so flattering and/ or just flat out standoffish actions. She needs to learn how to hold her ground and allow herself to be an clear option for someone romantically via not hiding her feelings (like her mom said, never apologize for how you feel) and by being very clear with her feelings from the get go for someone, as in it not being one day essentially, “I like you” to the next day being like, “What? No, I don’t like you. That’s crazy lol.” We have seen MANY examples of that, again it explains adriens mixed signals from marinette. She needs to learn how to let her and her feelings be COMPLETELY CLEAR AND VISIBLE so she doesn’t end up disregarded, confusing and walked all over like a doormat (poor baby, it’s true though). She needs to own her worth and her confidence. SHE NEEDS TO FEEL VALID AS AN INDIVIDUAL AND ADRIEN TOO.

This will essentially encourage marinette to take more risks romantically and to have trust and confidence in herself that she is worthy of love and she is very much worthy to be with who she wants to be with. It will bring her up from say a 0(-ish, like lets be honest, aside from a few certain instances, as far as her outwardly vying for adrien, it has been just her and the crickets lol) to a 50 like adrien.

See where I’m going with this?

With both marinette and adrien both at a 50, as in they both found a balanced and healthy romantic approach/ view on romance in general, they will finally be able to literally meet each other half way romantically. Does that make sense? Let me put it this way if it helps: 50 + 50 = 100?

Marinette taking more risks and having faith in her worth, adrien slowing down and analyzing his heart, also knowing his worth, it will set a solid and clear path for the both of them to meet each other half way romantically, finally. Thus paving the way for the lovesquare to implode/ reverse/ resolve...whatever and then setting up for the movie that is seemingly revolving around ladynoir and their love for each other which will then lead to a reveal (hopefully).

For further personal insight into my theories on the whole lovesquare and love rival dynamic, my link for my initial theory post is here: https://vampexx.tumblr.com/post/189482028990/just-a-thought-there-are-spoilers-in-case  Also, I have another post of mine that kinda touches on this subject that I will link next, but to warn you, it is salty. However, it is NOT salty to any one ship, it’s mainly salty towards the fandom so....it’s tagged ml fandom salt or something like that, anyway here is the link if anyone is interested at all: https://vampexx.tumblr.com/post/189856458390/alright-sorry-but-im-gonna-be-salty-real

AGAIN, I would like to remind those that took the time to read this that NO SALT OR HATE was intended in this post IN ANY WAY. I had to be open and honest for the sake of analyzing this mess properly. I apologize if anything has offended anyone but like I said, in order to put this all into words, I really had to be honest.

Hope this made sense, I put a lot of thought and effort into this, so dear God I hope so lol I’m so tired now lmao I KNOW THAT WAS A LOT I’M SORRY! THANK YALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE BUT NOW I’M EXHAUSTED.

Have a miraculous day! Love yall!

[dabistits]

Himiko & emotional intelligence

This is an aspect of Himiko that I deeply appreciate and want to talk about here, especially since I haven’t seen a comprehensive post about this character trait. I think this is especially important given her desire to Kill and Replace, but it also contradicts portrayals of Himiko that construe her as not particularly smart or strategic. Emotional intelligence is actually a huge asset of hers, in many terms, including as a weapon. She exhibits a profound and seemingly intuitive understanding of other people’s emotions and can modify her own behavior accordingly for her own ends. Below is a listed breakdown with specific examples, in no particular order of importance:

1. Intuitive understanding of unspoken feelings

This is probably the most prominent example, and which we see time and again. Himiko repeatedly makes assertions based off tangential information, which she surmises into an accurate reading of other people’s character. Ochako and Izuku are basically complete strangers to her, but with minimal interaction, Himiko’s able to deduce important relationships to both of them. In the latter examples, while Izuku and Jin have alluded to their feelings to or around her, Himiko cuts right to the heart of the issue: not only does Izuku hold Ochako’s abilities in a conflict situation in high regard, he trusts her; not only does Jin feel guilty for Magne’s death, he feels the most guilt, and cooperating with the yakuza hurts him because of his guilt.

She confidently makes a statement about three different characters, and she’s shown to be correct in how she interprets their feelings. Her intuitive deduction often acts as a narrative device to show authorial intent (that Ochako does have a crush, that Izuku does trust her, Jin does feel guilt), so it’s important that her statements are accurate. As a result, she happens to become one of the most emotionally perceptive characters in the series, almost to an unnerving degree, able to correctly make snap judgments about people’s feelings and relationships. But how else do you use a quirk like Transform, right?

2. Blending into her role

We’ve so far seen Himiko in four different transformations (Rock Lock isn’t on here because I got lazy lol). Quite obviously, she’s not perfect—Kemi’s classmates at Shiketsu notes that she’s been acting weird, and Izuku quickly figures out that the Ochako he rescued during the Hero License Exam was an imposter. That said, Himiko does several things very well that shows it’s not carelessness on her part, so much as reasonable limitations given how much she knows about each of these people.

Starting from the obvious: her mannerisms. Himiko adjusts her mannerisms according to whomever she’s imitating, including expressions, body language, and (I’m assuming, w/o the requisite Japanese knowledge to go on) speech. Her personas are distinctive in each instance, and tailored to suit the situation they’re in, from Ochako’s sheepish look to Izuku’s direct, urgent communication. Himiko assumes a, at the very least, passable imitation of people she’s, again, barely met, adopting salient behavioral traits so she doesn’t easily get found out. Even when Izuku calls her out, he points out technical flaws in her imitation of Ochako (that she didn’t float, the lack of planning when coming to save him) rather than obvious tells from personality.

That said, where and when Himiko uses her Transform ability is also strategic in nature. For sustained periods of transformation, she selected a target who she could imitate more easily, whose strangeness would be more likely to get overlooked. Shishikura Seiji says this about Kemi:

Himiko’s target and surroundings are carefully chosen to minimize chances of discovery, all strategic considerations that rely on an ability to read the atmosphere and people’s dispositions. She makes use of moments of confusion and plays off of people’s (but especially heroes’) need to react and help, betting on them to act before asking too many questions. This also raises an interesting question for me: in the hero license exam as Ochako, did she fall deliberately, counting on Izuku to catch her? Canon doesn’t make it particularly clear either way, but to speculate about it is fun in its own way.

3. Curiosity towards others

This trait ties in obviously to Himiko’s fixation on Kill and Replace, but it also serves to expand her understanding of other people. By asking these questions in her drive to satisfy her curiosity, Himiko must also necessarily take in and process the information she receives in response, so she necessarily acquires an (emotional) understanding towards others. While this line is directed to Izuku, her interrogation of him broadens her perspective about not only Izuku himself, but those who are like him—in this case, heroes. Both Himiko and Tomura (in the mall scene) seek out Izuku to elucidate certain ways of thinking that are foreign to them, and seem to come away from the interaction with some knowledge gained about the enemy. While Tomura is the one who clearly grew during his encounter, in beginning to use his acquired philosophy to gain legitimacy, it would be inaccurate to say Himiko gained nothing from hers, even if it was marginal enough not to be addressed in the canon narrative yet. She’ll obviously have more interaction with Izuku in the future though, so there should be plenty of opportunity to show how this encounter affected her too.

4. Using emotional information for her own ends

All of her skills amount to this—a brilliant play in the Hideout Invasion Arc that is vastly under-appreciated. Let’s set the scene: she and Twice have been drafted into the yakuza, whom neither of them much like, and now they’re embroiled in the yakuza’s affairs which involves a confrontation with heroes. They’re disadvantaged in terms of sheer physical power, they’re trapped in the battlezone with a significant risk of getting arrested, and their true target (Overhaul) is quickly making his escape while Mimic slows everyone down. Mimic is someone with whom she’d had a brief but antagonistic interaction that we know of, maybe more went on off-screen. Regardless, she understands enough about this person to figure out where he’s hiding (which stupefied the heroes), and exactly what to do to make him reveal himself against all his best interests. How she goes about this sets the course for the rest of the chapter.

With the right combination of words, she coaxes Mimic into self-sabotaging by revealing his location, and the heroes react exactly as she wanted them to. They prioritize subduing Mimic; once Izuku catches on to where he’s hiding, he takes him out, and it occupies all of the heroes for just long enough for her and Twice to make their escape. Himiko talks the situation into her favor, and ends up with one of the most troublesome yakuza members out of the way, and the road cleared for Twice and herself to execute their own plan to sabotage Overhaul.

I don’t think I need to go on about how amazing it is to manipulate a chain of events like that. Suffice to say that achieving such a result required a remarkable understanding of Mimic’s character and tics. She knew what to say that would dig the most at his insecurities, what would piss him off the most, and how the heroes would react. Basically, she played them, pretty much effortlessly and with very little time to think everything through. As stated in point 1, her ability to grasp a situation and all personalities involved seems pretty much intuitive, allowing her take advantage of what is going on around her. This is one of those scenes when the cunning of a character truly shines through, and it happens by allowing Himiko to take control of the situation just by reading someone’s personality and emotions. 

5. Emotional intelligence=empathy?

One would think that this all amounts to an extremely sympathetic reading of her, and Himiko does tend to get very sympathetic reactions out of fans. After all, she’s redeemable by her age, she’s fun, and she has extremely endearing interactions with Twice. People particularly like to cite the scene above as evidence that she’s empathetic, and therefore not just a surface-level sadistic serial killer. I somewhat agree on these points, but although I’ve just spent a lot of words detailing indications of her emotional intelligence, I hesitate to assert that it necessarily makes her more predictable in terms of her loyalties or willingness to self-sacrifice.

So as to not get too deeply into what other people think or don’t think, I’ll just present my own argument here. While Himiko does show herself to be perceptive towards other people’s feelings, upset at the team’s loss of Magne, and reassuring when Twice is distressed, it may not come from a totally selfless, empathetic place. This is something of an extrapolation from her behavior in other instances, like the serial killing lmfao, but also this bit towards Tomura:

When faced with the possibility of doing something she doesn’t like, her reaction drastically differs from Twice. Twice is hurt by Tomura asking them to join the yakuza, but Himiko doesn’t seem to feel hurt; rather than echo Twice’s plea for consideration, her reaction is a logical, problem-solving attempt to remove the element that is making her do that which she dislikes. Her gesture towards Tomura is antagonistic. Her expression is placid, she even calls Tomura by his first name, but her action is a threat, making it clear she will hurt someone to get her way.

What I read from this interaction is that, to Himiko, people are disposable if they become ‘unpleasant.’ It’s the people on her good side who warrant her reassurance, but given that it’s Tomura she threatens here, that can change at the drop of a pin. This is why I hesitate to point to her emotional intelligence as something that indicates unconditional loyalty or compassion; there is very clearly a self-centered and opportunistic streak in the way Himiko evaluates people around her and her relationships to them, and that’s a trait that’s often overlooked. People are welcome to interpret her however they want, but I think her willingness to rebel against and threaten the people she deems friends is something that bears acknowledging.

6. Bonus: she still cares to remark on what Tomura thinks though

IT’S CUTE, that’s all.

Emotional intelligence doesn't always point to good deeds and intentions, and I think this aspect of it is ignored when it comes to Himiko. Focus on her character tends towards the moments when she's being compassionate (and I get that because it's really cute) but I feel like it undersells how manipulative she can be. She regularly uses her people skills to infiltrate, confuse, and sabotage, which is also very a interesting and fun part of her character. She can be strategic! She can be cunning! It's just a different type of intelligence that most of our main characters exhibit, especially in terms of how she uses it, but that's also part of what makes her a great villain.

[experimentaldragonfire-fics]

experimentaldragonfire’s SU Fic Rec List

Stuck at home? Running out of stuff to read? I figured I’d put together a semi-comprehensive series of fanfic recommendations so that all the hours I’ve spent on AO3 over the years can be considered at least vaguely useful. A lot of these are quite old, so if you’ve only read more recent fics, you might find something that you haven’t seen here!

Please feel free to add your own links and recommendations--I personally would love more reading material! This list will focus on SU fics, but I’ll probably make more for other fandoms going forward if anyone’s interested. Bear in mind that, as I’ve mentioned, since many (most) of these were written a while ago, they might not represent exactly how the plot of the show progressed (though they now provide a pretty interesting look at the older fanfic tropes/theories!)

Also, upfront: most of these, when ships do appear, are Lapidot or PearlRose--clearly, I’m very narrowly-focused on what I read. And if one of your fics is on here and you want to be tagged, let me know and I will do so!

Steven Universe Fic Recs

General (None or canonical/background/multiple ships):

histories by avulle (T, F/F, Gen)

“Pearl (pearl) is born in what would have been the year 100,492 BCE. (She is not older than the entire human race—but only just.)”

An introspective look at the Crystal Gems through the years, written in a style that’s practically poetic and absolutely gorgeous.

Inferior Blue by hTeDruknenPotaT (M, Gen)

"Your name is Lapis Lazuli. Lapis is a fun thing to name your child when your last name is Lazuli, and when your name is Lapis Lazuli, blue seem like a nice color to dye your hair. It's fortunate that blue is your favorite color, that you manage not to despise it after all the blue you've been surrounded by all your life."

Lapis Lazuli meets a strange young boy who helps to heal the scars of her past.

The first time I read this fic, I stayed up until 5AM and cried into my pillow through the final chapters. And it continued to make me cry every time I reread it. Massive angst warning, but if you can handle fics that are beautiful but tragic, this is for you.

capacity by broken_halleluiah (G, F/F)

After a routine council meeting, Pink Diamond insists on repairing a broken piece of equipment. The result is far more than she bargained for.

A fic speculating on the nature of Pearls in Homeworld society, written well before we got to see any of that in canon. As such, it isn’t entirely in-line with later canon, but is still entirely worth reading.

Breaking Down by PTlikesTea (M, multi)

Rose's world view is shattered by a black market pearl and the realization that everything she knows about them is wrong.

An extensively long series of shorter mostly-self-contained stories exploring a version of Homeworld society where Pearls are considered as little more than disposable property. Major warnings for Pretty Much Everything--definitely keep an eye on the tags--but this is an iconic series of works, started in 2015 and predating many of the later revelations about canon Homeworld. 

A Gem and Her Pearl (Rose) by Potential Violet (G, gen)

Blue Diamond forces Rose Quartz to get a pearl, changing Rose's life, the pearl's life and the course of Gem history. All relationships begin somewhere, this is the beginning of Rose and Pearl's.

Another take on Rose and Pearl’s meeting, and the status of Pearls in Homeworld society (there’s a bit of a theme here with these recommendations). Again, predates most canon revelations regarding the topics, and predates all of the canon information about the Diamonds.

Pearl, Interrupted by AceyEnn (E, multi)

In August, Steven Quartz Universe was born.

In August, Rose Quartz died in childbirth.

In December, Pearl decides she can't handle any of it.

Or: Pearl Tries To Kill Herself And Ends Up In A Therapy Group Run By Her Best Friend's Mom (Well, One Of Her Moms).

Human AU focusing on Pearl dealing with Rose's death--or rather, not dealing with Rose’s death. Major content warnings for suicide attempts, self-harm, etc (please read the tags), but overall a very well-written story. Still updating, despite being first posted in 2016! 

Lapidot:

in which Peridot is Not At All Surprised by the sudden appearance of a new waiter by gaySpaceRock_exe (G, F/F)

Peridot meets the new waiter at her regular restaurant and immediately falls head-first in love. 

Cute and fluffy, what more do you need in a fic? 

Homesick by DrPaine (G, F/F)

An encounter at the Galaxy Warp.

Short oneshot predating the Peridemption/Barn Arc, can be read as friendship rather than romantic. 

Observation by DrPaine (G, F/F)

Peridot is a technician, meant to catch every detail. Not something she’s very fond of, but making yourself aware of your surroundings can be helpful, when you’re slipping into troublesome thoughts.

Incomplete but very much an introspective look at Peri’s character as perceived back in 2015-ish. Not as much focused on romance as on concepts of identity and anxiety. 

Of Stage Lights and Stage Fright by AcrylicPaint (M, F/F)

All Lapis wanted was to participate in the local production, but there was a minor element she hadn't taken into consideration when she agreed to take the leading role, and that was; dealing with the cute techie's constant staring.

That, and the fact she was beginning to stare too.

Human theatre AU, and an excellent completed multichapter fic. I remember that when I first read this, I was in high school and part of the musical, so it was a very topical read--and now it’s the height of nostalgia. 

No Regrets by Raptor_Red (E, F/F)

No Regrets, or, the story of how Peridot tried to romance the blue-haired tattoo artist from the parlor across the street

A personal favorite! The writing in this fic is just so nice to read, and though I’m not usually a fan of tattoo artist AUs, this one really managed to make the whole concept make sense within the story. I can’t count how many times I’ve read this fic. Please read this.

12 O’Clock at Your Local King Soopers by InsomniacArrest (T, F/F)

Lapis works late night shifts, Peridot is somebody's overworked assistant, they both need more sleep and better people skills: the grocery store story.

Is it a Lapidot fic rec list if I don’t include 12KS? Probably the most iconic fic for this pairing, with good reason. Also, consider this a recommendation for literally everything IA has ever written--there are too many good fics to name them all individually, otherwise they’d comprise half of this entire list.

Of Meteors and Minimal Speech by Waypaststrange (moonbeatblues)(F/F)

In which things at the barn settle down, nobody speaks much, and strange lights appear in the sky.

Vaguely fluffy oneshot, very cute!!

Awkward Office Encounters by SilverEyedRukia (T, F/F) 

Due to a broken down air conditioner on a scorching hot day the computers' overheated systems need fixing. Luckily for everyone a blonde technician is up for the job, but unbeknowst to them the IT nerd turns out to be someone they didn't expect her to be, especially not Lapis who kind of asked her out on a date already.

Human workplace AU, starts off relatively comedic but gets into Emotional Territory towards the end.

Camp Pining Hearts by kamanzi (M, F/F)

Peridot and Jasper return to summer camp after their freshmen year of college--this time, as counselors. Peridot is disappointed to learn that nothing is quite the same, especially her relationship with her best friend. Whose fault is this? She blames Jasper's girlfriend.

“‘Let’s go back next year and be counselors,’ she said. ‘It’ll be fun,’ she said.”

Human summer camp counselors AU that’s definitely long enough to use up some stuck-at-home-self-isolating time.

A Week by teamchaosprez  (E, F/F)

Who knew that a single night of drunken sex could push Peridot and Lapis from being roommates with a mutual crush to regularly fucking and maybe - just maybe - eventually becoming girlfriends and standing up to the homophobia surrounding both of their family lives.

A human college AU focusing a lot on working through interpersonal relationships and coming to terms with emotions

Set Me Free by cym70 (T, F/F) 

Being roommates gives Lapis and Peridot a lot of time to get to know each other and, despite their rocky history, they might just be able to make something entirely new.

A friends-to-lovers fic, post-Barn Mates. Very sweet!

Waltz of the Nian by QuickYoke (T, F/F)

Lapis doesn't understand fusion at heart, but she does know she's an unideal partner for it.

 Lapis' relationship with fusion, and also Peridot. A fic that basically encapsulates the ideal of profound prose that makes you feel things, even if you don’t precisely know how or why.

Pushing by Like Hearts by mautadite (T, F/F)

“Sounds like you’re really counting on that road trip magic.”

(Peridot and Lapis do Midway City, and Empire City, and Plateau Ville, and all the places in between.)

Canonverse road trip, because every rec list needs a “the characters go on a long journey together and find themselves, and each other” fic. And because this fic made me feel so many emotions.

A thousand years (F/F)

I have died a thousand years, waiting for you.

 Childhood friends-to-adult-lovers human AU, one of the fic tropes that always just punches me in the face with feelings.

[dashorchid6-blog]

How Sex Conflicts Can Affect the Mental Illness

The entire subject of sex has too long been covered in riddle and dread sustained by numbness and misconception. Different feelings of trepidation of humankind have been dissipated by comprehension. We have discovered that numerous sicknesses are brought about by microorganisms and infections and not detestable spirits. Therefore we never again feel a nonsensical fear of malady however attempt to control it by detachment, immunization, and chemotherapy. In the event that sexual issues were comparatively comprehended and straightforwardly considered by all, the sexual feelings of trepidation and clashes so common in our human advancement would vanish. Maybe the best snag to all around solid sexual mentalities is the way that albeit numerous guardians understand the estimation of sex instruction they feel insufficient and poorly arranged to offer direction to their youngsters. They are as yet dependent with restraints, humiliation, and an inclination that sex is unclean. Thus the youngster assembles autonomously a mutilated, unfortunate gathering of falsehood and misinterpretations. Legitimately there is no motivation behind why the psycho-sexual advancement of the individual ought to be respected from an alternate perspective from other substantial capacities. At each phase of improvement certain signs show up for which the youngster ought to be readied. He is more hurt by nervousness and dread of things he doesn't comprehend concerning sex than by conceivable untimely guilty pleasure. The rash treatment of sex interest in youthful youngsters may have enduring impacts. A large number of the hindrances that counteract an ordinary, sound reaction in youths toward individuals from the contrary sex have their beginning in such early experiences. A profound situated dread of sex may prompt constraints that make the young lady or kid contract inside a shell of save that they can't clarify Years of maladjustment and despondency may result from a couple of snapshots of botch. The best protect against the improvement of sex strife sick youth is a battle of sound sex instruction for the two guardians and youngsters, the core value for guardians ought to be trustworthiness and a demeanor of easygoing candor. It isn't important to endeavor a full dialog of science in one sitting, for such genuineness and overemphasis is as extraordinary as complete refusal to talk about the theme. In answer to the kid's inquiries concerning different things it isn't standard to plunk down and give him a full address regarding each matter. A straightforward, fair solution to his inquiry is all that is required, and in spite of the fact that the first inquiry might be trailed by others for elaboration, the subject is before long dropped and the energetic personality pursues its common course to different things. The youngster's advantage may seem first in inquiries regarding his very own beginning and if the appropriate responses are provided without passionate presentation or concern the kid acknowledges them matter-of-truthfully. These recommendations may appear glaringly evident to us yet it is astounding what number of the kids who go under perception at the center are absolutely uninformed of the logical basics of sex. Singular Problems Complicated Different kinds of enthusiastic responses, just a couple of which have been examined, are normally usable in creating the side effects displayed by a given person. This is all around shown by the accompanying case report: The patient was a young fellow in school, who went to the specialist with the accompanying protests. For a long time he has attempted futile "to deal with himself" and has turned out to be altogether debilitated and about "pushed beyond his limits." He has had mastoid, sinus, and tonsil contaminations which he supposes have influenced his psyche. Throughout the previous three years he has been strongly despondent and has made no companions, since "individuals disdain him." He says that he is a physical defeatist and is "rationally tormented by negative behavior patterns." Ideas go through his mind with the goal that he can't rest. Now and again he has felt that individuals were perusing his musings and watching him in the city; and once in a while he accepts he is going crazy and has set out to end it all. This young fellow's adolescence was despondent, owing both to awful neighborhood conditions and to the contradiction of his folks. During the majority of their wedded life his folks were kept together more by money related and religious contemplations than by any respect for one another. At last, the dad chose that the main way out of the trouble was to separate the home. Unfit to talk it over sensibly with the patient's mom, and so as to maintain a strategic distance from an excruciating scene, he sent the family to another city, where he had orchestrated a home for them. He additionally given that the mother get a specific aggregate of cash every month for the help of herself and the two young men. Now the dad dropped good and gone, as he went to another state to restore himself in business. The kid's initial social contacts were shocking. He had a few delayed diseases, which influenced him physically to such a degree, that for a period he was unfit to contend with different young men in physical things. Moving into another network made this doubly hard. He was harassed unmercifully by different young men. At last, he went under the mastery of a kid who was living in a similar flat, a kid to some degree more seasoned, rather dumb, yet very much grew physically. The last accepted a kind of defensive frame of mind toward the patient. It was from this kid the patient had his first sex guidance. He was instructed to stroke off and in the meantime informed that it would hurt him physically. He admitted his first experience to his mom, who was sickened and stunned. She disclosed to him this was just an affirmation of her conviction that he took after his dad in his Weaknesses. She disclosed to him that his dad had dependably been exotic and awed the kid with her appall for masturbation and with her conviction that it was an extraordinary sin. He made a goals to stop, broke the goals, made another, and with each endeavor turned out to be increasingly more persuaded that he was unfit to battle this malevolence. He felt that he should overcome it so as to demonstrate to himself and his mom that he was not a powerless character, wicked ordinarily, and so forth. It progressed toward becoming to him a kind of image of his entire battle against the possibility of underhandedness. In the event that he could vanquish this thing, it would imply that he could overcome the shortcoming he had acquired from his dad, he would recover the regard and friendship of his mom and have the option to contend with his more youthful sibling for her respect. His thought regarding masturbation added to his troubles with different young men. He felt that not exclusively was he physically disabled by the diseases which he had and his ensuing ponderousness yet in addition that he was not approach ethically to the next young men in his gathering. He got notification from some of them that one could generally tell a pervert by the pimples all over and the failure to look at a man without flinching. He turned out to be much progressively unsure and built up a dread that his propensity would be found. Subsequently, he abstained from gathering different young men and remained at home a lot, ignoring physical exercise and diversion. About this time there were in the area a few domineering jerks. They rushed to perceive the patient's mentality, and on a couple of events waylaid him in transit from school, provoking him to battle. He was startled and ran. On the main event when he put up a light since he couldn't escape, he was seriously pounded by the two young men. This persuaded him that he was a physical defeatist and added to his effectively developing loathing with himself. In his college courses, this kid had appeared uncanny capacity to select bits of data which would in general affirm certain things which stressed him. He got the hang of something of the organic hypothesis of heredity and was fortified in the conviction that he had acquired his dad's shortcoming of character. He picked up something of logical determinism, deciphering it to imply that man is not the slightest bit a free specialist, and that it is difficult to build up one's determination in the event that one doesn't as of now have it. He knew about the shades of malice of the supposed "feeling of inadequacy" and having discovered a word under which he could total up his issues, he was like never before awed by the size of them Although he made decent evaluations, accomplishment in this was of little incentive to him, truth be told, to go about as a pay for different disappointments. He in this manner lost intrigue and started to disregard his investigations. Over everything he required that acknowledgment, companionship, social contact, which his own sentiments kept him from getting. It was found at the beginning that any basic clarification and counsel would not be' of any incentive to the patient. He had ahead had such clarifications from different able personnel counsels. What was required was an intensive passionate re-teaching. It is clear from the record of the patient's life that his issues were profound situated and included such essential relations as that of the patient toward his family, toward religion, and toward the issue of sex. The patient was bizarrely wise and agreeable all through the method. He was seen in any event three or multiple times each week; and in spite of the fact that there have been times when he demonstrated extraordinary gloom; in general his advancement has been stamped. At present this kid is dealing with the family circumstance well. He is never again bad tempered, unruly, and withdrawn at home. He has had the option to make a few profitable associates on the grounds. He is presently very ready to put forth a concentrated effort reliably to his work, and his evaluations have improved. He has picked a calling and, despite the fact that he isn't yet prepared to enter his expert preparing, he is exceedingly intrigued by it and had completed a lot of outside perusing on related subjects. He has tackled the sex issue palatably and isn't jerking off or doing any surprising measure of fantasizing about sex, things. findomme trusts himself a weakling.

[migleefulmoments]

Did I make her mad?

I seem to have ruffled Ajw’s feather. I left her a message- always anon or she won’t read them. I know this because used my username for years and they are ignored. So here we are with a LONG response to her answer.  

It started here: The CCers tried to change the history of Darren and Mia *you can read their entire exchange here* 

But here is the part I was responding to: 

ajw720

Agreed light bearding started April 2011, heavy bearding when they moved her to LA in Fall 2012.  In between I do think they considered other, more famous options but went with her as she is the only person that they could “prove” pre-C. And the CC relationship was their major obstacle and the thing they knew they had to hide to make D straight.

This being said, the article is WRONG if they are following the PR narrative that says they started to date in June 2010 and that is what the “7 ½ crazy and adventurous years came from.”  A narrative that was spun in 2015.

M herself would love to claim college as she is desperate to say Not Alone is about her.

So yes, it is likely they “met” in college, but I doubt it was more than a night out at a bar at most.

So I asked her: 

Come on, you know there are several public pics of M and D together before his "Blaine' audition hair cut. IDK if you have been in a serious relationship but how it works is you start out seeing each there occasionally and then as you get closer and fall more in love you start doing more and more together until you get married. Being in a long distance relationship means that can all take a little longer. Going out more publicly AFTER she moved & over time is how that works.

My responses to her comments are in Italics:

Dearest Michigan,

I really do make an effort to ignore you and your nonsense, but I just could not resist. I know on your blog you have questioned my credentials, well I must say, I question yours and I highly recommend you enroll in a grammar school level reading comprehension program. I have two master’s degrees and undergrad from Michigan, but thanks for the advice.  First, who is disagreeing that they knew each other pre-g/lee?  That is a fact, a fact i state often and frequently and no one that I have encountered here who has any knowledge refutes this fact. Yet you keep repeating this like we are unaware, both in this ask, and in your absolutely comical analysis of the handshake completely based on the the false premise that we think this is when M&D met. Please stop putting words in our mouths and READ critically.

Well let me leave just a couple of receipts as to why I keep saying that: 

This exchange on 11/20 regarding the Trevor Live 2012 video that they have claimed over and over shows Michael introducing Mia and Darren and Darren shakes her hand.  I proved that is not what happened here . 

1.  flowersintheattic254

I’ve never seen this video before and wondered if anyone else new here had? Apologies for putting her on your dash, but it’s useful to have a gentle reminder that this is and always was a business arrangement.  Watch them shake hands under the watchful eye PR at Trevor 2012 and D proceed to ignore her. #because most people shake hands with their SO right 9/ 

2. Anonymous asked:

So glad theTrevor clip exists. That’s my go to when people ask for proof. They had been “together” for 2 yrs. Question on the timing. Does this coincide with the “confirmation” date when D was so upset in Canada?

ajw: Hi anon, this was December, confirmation day in Toronto was the following June.  But no question, they had moved her to LA and the choice to make her full-time beard and to completely oppress CC had been made.  This was right after the BU episode of G/lee, a plot conceived to keep D&C apart.  Not a pleasant time in their lives and when everything really changed.

3. ajw: article is WRONG if they are following the PR narrative that says they started to date in June 2010 and that is what the “7 ½ crazy and adventurous years came from.”  A narrative that was spun in 2015.

4. Hi anon.  That is likely the correct answer.  Her friend dated Jo/e W when they were in college and I believe she maybe visited U of M one weekend.

That being said, to be clear, if they met then, and it is not 100% substantiated, they went to different schools, located in different parts of the country and she graduated before them. They didn’t start dating in college and I would guess they did not keep in touch. The real connection was later when Ch/uck and C/harlene were friendly with her in NYC after they all graduated.  And that is how she was chosen to be the beard, the worst decision D ever made.

Second, I am not disputing that from 2010-2011 it was sort of low key, though by April 2011 she was already being speculated about in JJ with pap pics, so maybe we can say it quickly went from low to mid-key.

Yes, this is how relationships work. You meet, you may not start dating right away. Eventually you start talking...maybe a date or two- they were long distance so likely much more talking. Fly to see one another...a few dates... more talking... more flying until she moved to LA. Nothing inconsistent about the story. They started out long distance so there is no doubt the “start date” is debatable to them. 

However, she was moved to LA in the fall of 2012 and from that moment forward there was nothing low or mid key about this.  That was SIX, count them (unless you need basic math classes as well) SIX years ago. Therefore, a publication CANNOT state that they have been low key dating since 2010. That is a boldface lie. They could say perhaps “they started out under the radar and have since decided to share” but NOT that it has been low key since 2010.

No, no it isn’t a bold face lie. It is literally how REAL LIFE relationships work..you know the unscripted ones. It’s their relationship and THEY get to say when they actually started dating. You could probably win an argument that the fandom didn't KNOW they were dating until 2012, ya know, if you REALLY just need to win.   

Since 2012 she has accompanied him to approximately 75% of all of his events, her picture is taken constantly, her image is videoed, her SM is full of him, and recently his SM contains her face. Their “friends” and family talk about them on their public SM constantly, She has been interviewed about him (remember when she claimed she never wanted to be associated with someone famous), and she is mentioned in D’s press constantly and has been for YEARS.

I will say this slowly.  They. Are. Engaged.  It is normal for her to be with him at events. As many events as they want to attend together. People like love; people like beautiful couples. Photographers and fans are going to take pictures of a beautiful couple in love. Interviewers are going to talk about the engagement and the wedding. It’s we do in America. The problem is you don’t like it. But I’m 100% sure that Darren didn’t ask you for permission. He doesn’t care what you think.. 

Her friends and family post about them constantly? Everyone’s family talks about family constantly. I’m sure YOUR family talk about you. It’s literally what social media is for- bragging about your kids and perfect life, posting naked belly shots in the gym, and connecting with family and friends. I know you talk about your family on Tumblr and you post your cats and your wine on Tumblr.  How does Mia or Darren or their family have less right than you do? I don’t follow the logic and as you say you're a lawyer, I really don’t follow you.  Everyone gets to pick what they want to post on their own social media...that is the rule. 

As for that article...Mia claimed she never wanted-PAST TENSE- to be with someone famous; it wasn’t something she imagined for herself. That isn’t the same as saying she doesn’t currently want to be with Darren who become famous after they fell in love. I will avoid ridiculing you about your lack of basic English grammar skills. 

Yes, she is mentioned in Darren’s press...so what? They are a couple. This is isn’t hard.      

So I am unclear why you are asking me about how a relationship works? I certainly understand how it works.  

Relationships dear michigan are based on love, friendship, and respect, Three fundamental things missing from the mi/arren relationshit.

Couples KNOW when they met and how long ago it was. But not mi/arren. Was it college?  Don Hi/ll’s? In NYC pre-g/lee?  They don’t know, but they will be sure to twist the answer each and every time asked. (D actually looked shocked when she said college). But you know what D knows in precise detail?  His mandate, when he went to see S/utton F/oster, a story he has recounted approximately  5 times, with g/olden g/lobe winning, NY T/imes best selling author C/hris C/olfer (his constant tribute not mine).

I already outlined how long distance relationships work and there is a vague, nebulous start date. But I also suspect that Darren, who does value his privacy, doesn’t really care to share those kind of details with us. So he gives vague, unimportant responses to that question. There is also the fact that journalists and bloggers do research and don’t always ask every question they cover in an interview. Sometimes they use their research to fill in facts- this can lead to perpetuating something that isn’t 100% accurate but Darren doesn’t care to call them out or correct it because it isn't our business. 

As for your mandate. Haven’t you figured out that it is the only Chris Glee story Darren is allowed to share without upsetting Chris? He keeps repeating it because it’s out there already. “Chris hates when you talk about him” so he keeps repeating the same story to feed the Glee nostalgia without getting him upset. Again, this isn’t hard. 

Couples know how long they have been dating.  Not m/iarren and you would THINK after the encage announcement they would stick to the very public timeline created, yet they don’t. She actually wants you to think they started dating in college, years before 2010.

Nobody cares when they started dating. I couldn't tell you when my husband and I started dating- there are times I can’t remember how many years we have been married or what year we got married- It isn’t important to all people. It means NOTHING in the big scope of the day-to-day struggles of being married and raising kids, and struggling with chronic disabling illnesses that we deal with in our kids. Love isn’t a Disney Prince meets Princess sweeps her offer feet and they live Happily Ever After cuz now she’s a Princess.  It isn’t Instagram perfection of big dates, huge romantic gestures and huge diamonds. It’s living with someone and negotiating who does what chores; who cooks and who cleans up dinner; who is taking the kid to PT or the doctor appt that is 3 hours away this week; it’s washing his dirty underwear and getting a puke bucket when the flu hits. It’s missing him because he is gone half the month flying FedEx packages to Dubai, India and China while I am single parenting a lot. In most people’s lives, the date they started dating isn’t that important after you get through a few. Those moments become less important.  

When one proposes to their partner after “7 ½ crazy and adventurous years” I would hope they would know the person well enough to buy them a ring that they would love and cherish. And in turn I would hope the recipient loved the ring, even if not their dream, because it is a symbol of love and devotion. Not mi/arren, D apparently got in wrong FOUR times as she is now wearing ring number FIVE, an indisputable fact.  And no, multimillionaire D did not buy FOUR place holders.

You have very childlike ideas of what relationships and engagements are like.  I haven’t worn a wedding ring in years, nobody cares. Mia wore one engagement ring from January to January- she added other rings to the stack at times which seems to have confused you that it was different rings. I saw your picture proof  and those are all the same diamond ring. She just got a beautiful ring on GG night. My GUESS would be that they designed the new ring together. Couples do that. Some couples get engaged long before there is a ring. None of this is “abnormal”...there is no “normal”. But even if she did have 5 rings...who cares? It means NOTHING to us. They get to do what they want and THAT is an indisputable fact. 

Generally partners don’t run in front of the other constantly when they think they aren’t being filmed. D runs ahead of her constantly as documented many, many times. And notice how he ALWAYS tries to correct it when he sees the camera. They also aren’t afraid to touch their partner (D constantly avoids it, remember Op/eration S/mile when he was caught on film hiding his hand behind his bag to avoid touching her?). 

You pick and choose pictures and videos to prove this trope. You and I both know there are many pictures of them waking together. Again, I ask if you have ever been in a long term relationship because after 8 years, nobody is worried about who is walking in front of who. On the red carpet, it is pretty common for the celeb to walk in front of the spouse because everyone wants to see the celeb and not the spouse. Darren is at work on the red carpet. But if you want to hang your hat on THIS being the BIG proof you have that it is all a lie then go for it. If you want to ignore all of the times Darren has said “I love her” and instead fixate on a photo of him standing in front of her....you are only deluding yourself.  

A partner would NEVER try to steal the spotlight from the SO yet M pulls focus constantly despite the fact that it is D who put in the time and effort to receive the accolades he is currently getting.

I honestly can’t with this one.  She only “steals the limelight” with you guys. Darren’s real fans just enjoy pics of them together as the gift that they are as we enjoy everything Darren does. You guys, on the other hand, stalk the internet looking for pictures of her just so you can rage over them; you guys talk about how she steals the spotlight. Nobody, NOBODY could steal the limelight from Darren Criss.  

A partner would respect that their partner has repeatedly stated that he craves privacy. Neither M nor any of their “friends” give two shits about his wishes as he is all over the internet as posted by this group.

This cracks me up because it assumes that Darren has no idea his pictures are being posted...the ones he posed for and the ones that he watched them post seconds later. Nobody is posting photos that Darren doesn’t want posted.  Mia shut down her public social except for very rare red carpet or special events. When you rage about untrue things you sound exactly like Trump “ there is an EMERGENCY AT THE BORDER...drugs...rapists...coyotes.. DEMS WANT OPEN BORDERS”. “DARREN BEGS FOR PRIVACY AND NOBODY RESPECTS THAT”. Both of those statements are complete bullshit. 

A caring fiancee would concede an award show to allow for him to take his mom (d’s express wishes as he voiced on ET. And no if this is corrected it does not count as he called her out in a very public way).

OMG with this one.  An anon pointed out that the one person who DID take his mom to awards shows after age 30 was Kevin Spacey.  Darren took who Darren wanted to take to his first GG as a nominee. Most adults have closer relationships with their lover than their mommy. His mom came to the parties. I don’t see her upset...she looked pretty damn happy hanging with her hubby. 

Mature, wealthy adults in their 30s don’t have another wealthy adult living with them for, and i quote from D himself “many, many years.”  And no B/en didn’t crash on the couch as you have deluded yourself to believe, he fully lived (or lives) there.

Mature, wealthy adults in their 30′s get to decide who lives in their home with them. If you actually do follow Ben on his social, then you know he is rarely in LA for more than a few days. I never said he is sleeps on the couch because I assume he had his own bedroom. 

If I got to meet a music idol and he wanted to move in with me and we could sit around and immerse ourselves in music, I would  be thrilled. In college my roommate, her boyfriend, and I sleep in the same bedroom. They were a couple, I was just a roommate. It’s even more disingenuous that you keep screaming what is and isn’t normal while you claim to be the biggest gay ally in the world. Gay families form in all sorts of combinations and configurations. You need to educate yourself before you proclaim you guys are the biggest bestest Queer Allies around and stop betting hung up on heteronormative 1940′s norms. . 

A loving partner would not constantly mock and ridicule the other publicly, something she has done often (remember that time she called him douchebag on twitter?).  Nor would s/he mock and ridicule his fans and treat them like the lowest form of vermin. particularly if not kissing said person’s ass.

First of all, I believe she was joking though I haven’t seen that tweet in ages. It is super old. Second, people fight. People say horrible things to their lovers. It’s NORMAL.

You have tried to make the “Mia is mean to Darren’s fans” trope into something with as much effort as “THERE IS AN EMERGENCY AT THE BORDER”.  Neither one is sticking. 

A partner that respects their SO doesn’t force them to perform in a bar nearly every single one of his/her days off, when it was evident the man was on the brink of collapsing from exhaustion, as M did for the duration of the summer.

When you say this I always wonder if you EVER ACTUALLY LISTEN to Darren talk...like USING his words, out of his mouth. Because Darren Criss LOVES making music with people. He played outside restaurants at Michigan, he played inside Sava (MI) and Maggianos (CA), he does concerts and he lives for a small venue event. Marie’s Crisis and other piano bars rock his world so he opened one of his own close to home. Darren LOVES TO CONNECT TO OTHER HUMAN BEINGS THROUGH MUSIC. This is something he has said many times, in many interviews. It is sad that you cannot see that-you cannot hear him- and you continue to disparage his joy. When you finally realize that you are wrong about all of this, the one thing that I hope makes you feel the worst is that you have degraded, disparaged, and denigrated two things he loves- Mia and TSG. 

I could go on and on and on about the issues with this horror show, but i will spare my readers.  But I will repeat something i have said often, the ONLY thing to me that would be sadder than reality, would be if this is real. Because they are the OPPOSITE of relationship goals and incredibly toxic as painfully evident in what they have allowed us to see.

I can go on and on as well. It is real and it doesn’t involve you. Your petty, ill-informed, silly conspiracy theorist investigations have created a reality that lives on in your heads. Darren is clearly happy and everyone around him loves him AND Mia. You spend a lot of time and energy wiping away ALL of Darren’s truths in order to keep your fantasy alive. The only toxic relationship Darren has is with the CC fandom. I don’t know his personal life but what I see from my position in MI is a man and woman who are living their best life and a fandom that is trying so hard to hang on to a fantasy that has FAR outlived its useful life. Chris and Darren have no public relationship and if I had to guess after reading STFF,  I would say no relationship at all. Chris has asked you to stop shipping them more than once. Instead of listening you continue to fabricate fictitious stories to explain away every single word out Darren’s mouth and many out of Chris’s. You aren’t “finding the truth” you are CREATING YOUR TRUTH to keep a fantasy alive. Reading Instagram ‘likes’ and looking at song lyrics WHILE IGNORING THE VERY WORDS OUT OF DARREN’S OWN MOUTH is really messed up and very disrespectful. If you really believe that Darren’s public life is a lie than walk away. You have the right to your opinion but you don’t have the right to bully Darren or his family and friends on behalf of that opinion. You don’t have the right to an opinion on the value of his love for Mia. If you don’t like it then you have the right to walk away...not to spread your hate on social media until it gets back to Darren & Mia, and their family and friends. The CC Bullshit that comes directly from YOUR MOUTH was left on Chuck’s baby post for fuck’s sake. That is ALL ON YOU. You claim you don’t post on their social but you have never told your followers to stop and they use your exact words. Chuck and that newborn baby deserved a hell of a lot better than the hate that a CC Family member left. You OWN that. 

Now i beg, please, please, please go back to your own blog where i can blissfully ignore you and leave me alone unless you an actually come back and produce a valid argument.

Nope...as long as you lie, as long as you made ignorant, unsubstantiated and easily disprovable statements, I will be here. Think of me as the New York Times...always giving the folks the well-researched truth. I learned to do research at Michigan. I might not be able to sniff out obscure facts like marriage licenses or who Mia’s mom works for (well mostly because I don’t care) but I can do a damn good job of disproving your tropes because they rely so heavily on misconstrued truths (see my take down of the Fox Studio 7 year contract fact) , outright lies, shortened videos, and photos taken out of context. Also BTW some fact checks: it was CrissColfers who moved into Chris’s neighborhood to terrorize him, NOT Miarrens, in their mission to find proof that Darren was really going to Chris’s home and your anon who mentioned Dot Marie Jone’s wife standing up for Darren and Mia...she is friends with Chris and she was defending Chris and Will NOT Darren and Mia. 

Love,

Me

[head-and-heart]

I don’t know what this is, but there’s something I need to get off my chest ...

About five years ago my issues with depression and anxiety really escalated.

Incidentally, I discovered The 100 at a time in my life where I felt very alone and worthless. It felt like no one cared about me at all. In the years that have passed since then, I have come to realize that these feelings of loneliness and the fear that no one truly cares from me are unfounded and self-imposed tortures that my mind creates for me. But it’s still hard to pretend there isn’t any truth to them sometimes and it’s hard for me to stop isolating myself from the people I care about. The 100 started as a mindless distraction - then, somewhere down the line, it shifted into something else.

I don’t know how much of my obsession with this show and this ship has to do with The 100 itself and how much of it has to do with the time in my life that I started watching it. For all I know, I would have spiraled as deeply into fandom had it been any other show. Maybe I was just looking for an escape of any kind and The 100 happened to be what was staring me in the face at the time.

But I think it has more to do with Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake. Subconsciously, and for how many reasons there are, I poured a piece of myself into them, the show, and (of course) Bellarke.

I’ve talked a lot on here about the connection that I feel to both Clarke and Bellamy. How I relate to the constant pressure and responsibility that Clarke puts on herself, her tendency to isolate herself and push away the people that care about her. Bellamy’s continuous issues with self-worth and his struggle to see anyone’s love or understanding of him touched my soul. I felt myself being drawn into them, into their story. 

I think, in a way, watching them struggle and overcome and work together gave me hope. 

But that’s not the same Bellamy and Clarke that I see on my television screen anymore. I don’t connect to them, I don’t feel for them. It feels like they were lost somewhere to the black pit I’ve been trying to outrun for five years and I’m left here, grappling, trying desperately to hang onto the image of them that kept me afloat for so long, a hope that doesn’t exist anymore - because it feels like they gave up, too.

To have so much of what I thought about the show - all of my hopes and speculation and unshakable conviction - be entirely turned upside down and inside out this season has completely screwed with my perception. I don’t trust my own thoughts. I shut myself down for feeling hopeful. I feel guilty for criticizing anything in the narrative just because it wasn’t what I would have done, and then I immediately feel angry that I’ve allowed myself to care this much, because haven’t I tried so hard not to care at all?

The narrative has become a reflection of my self-worth. 

When my speculation turns out to be off-course, it makes me question the function of my own brain. I feel delusional, foolish. I don’t trust my own mind.

When someone criticizes my favourite character, it feels like they’re criticizing me. (Because, after all, didn’t I pour myself into them?) If Bellamy Blake is worthless after all, that must mean I am, too. 

When Clarke continues to be isolated season after season, when she fails time and again to reintegrate herself back into the group, it feels like a statement that this feeling of loneliness will last forever. Once you’re on the outside, the door locks. There is no way back in.

When the one thing that gave me the most hope - Bellarke - is splintered and broken beyond repair, it must mean there is no hope left to be found and my worst fears are true: there truly is no point to any of this. 

If Bellamy and Clarke no longer love each other, if they no longer care whether the other lives or dies, then why the fuck should I believe anyone who says they care about me?

Every single hit that my favourite characters and relationships take - on-screen and off-screen - feels like a personal slap in the face.

I know it’s irrational. Deep down, I know. And it’s not the CW’s fault or the fandom’s fault or even fucking Jason Rothenberg’s fault. It’s my own.

But I can’t stop the thoughts. I can’t stop the way it makes me feel nauseous every time a cast member says something negative about Bellarke, or how every time Jason tells us we are interpreting something wrong it feels like he’s actually saying that my feelings aren’t valid, that I don’t have the right to feel how I do. I can’t stop the gutpunch every time something doesn’t go how I expected it to - how I was certain it had to.

It’s not personal. It’s an opinion and it’s a story, but everything feels like an insult, a criticism of me, and I’m just so tired of feeling like everything I say, everything I think, doesn’t matter. 

What hurts is that, in regards to my mental illness, it really felt like I’d made progress in the past year. Things had finally been looking up. I felt happy. But Season 5 has been extremely destabilizing for me. To say that discovering something that once filled the void I felt in my personal life has transformed into something that is no longer comforting or familiar to me “sucks” is the understatement of the century. The result of Season 5 has been crippling for my mental health, and 5x12 really escalated all of those negative feelings that were simmering under the surface.

I know it's fucked to bank so much of your happiness on something that isn't real, that you have no control over, but I can't help it. 

Everything just hit me last night like a goddamn train. The 100 and this cursed fandom has been enabling my depression for years. The realization of how much time I have dedicated to this fandom, to the show, to supporting it and rallyng for it and writing about it ... is crushing. I don’t know how to get back the  years. I don’t know how to get back the time. I’ve wasted so much of it.

The truth is, I used my obsession for The 100 has an excuse to isolate myself further, to disappear deeper into my mind and push away the people in my life. I couldn’t tell you why I do it. It’s beyond my own comprehension at this stage. But the point is that I did it, and now that I so desperately want out I don’t even know how to leave. It’s been too long and this fandom has become such an intrinsic part of my coping mechanism that giving it up feels like giving up a piece of me, too. 

I’m angry. I’m so angry. 

I’ve wasted so much time and I don’t know how to stop wasting it. I feel so trapped. I know that no matter how bad it gets, no matter how many times it disappoints me, I’m going to keep watching this show until it ends. I’m going to see it through because I have to. I don’t know any other way. I barely remember how I used to feel before I started watching it. And, as toxic and abusive as the fandom is, I do genuinely care about the people I've met here.

God. It’s so fucked up.

In retrospect, it feels like one cosmic joke that the time at which I began my struggle with mental illness happened at pretty much exactly the same time as the Pilot of The 100 premiered, give or take a few months. It showed up at precisely the time I was looking for it, I allowed it to consume me, and now it is standing by and watching as I unravel once again.

That’s some sick kind of poetry.

[athyrabunlord]

Say my Name

A/N: I can’t believe I typed this whole thing on phone lol but I’m in desperate need of DiaRiko and I need to get this out of system before ep4 airs.

Ship: DiaRiko

Words: 1,229

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“You are the only one left.”

Amber eyes blink slowly. “I’m sorry?”

Dia resists the urge to sigh and repeats. “You are the only one who has yet to correct your wording.”

Riko furrows her brows, looking just as puzzled as before but there is a hint of exasperation now. “My wording on what? I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Dia-san.”

“This! Exactly what you just said!” Dia couldn’t help but gesture fervently, slamming her hands down on the desk only to flinch in pain a moment later.

Riko’s lips twitch in controlled amusement, though she admirably keeps her voice even. “Dia-san-?”

“Yes, that. I have already requested the rest of you not to call me that anymore.” Pleased that they are finally getting somewhere, Dia folds her arms and begins to pace around the student council room. “It took a lot of effort, but I have succeeded with the others earlier while you were in the music room.”

She pauses and rubs her throbbing temple, recalling the dreadful experience. With her precious little sister Ruby’s suggestion, Hanamaru was more than happy to call her ‘Dia onee-chan”. Ah, it felt so wonderful then, to have gained another adorable sibling.

But of course Mari had to ruin it by calling her the same too. Damn that smirky blonde. Kanan was in a playful mood too and also called her that, which gave Dia unpleasant goosebumps. Her two childhood friends have always referred to her directly by her given name, so it felt quite wrong to hear otherwise. Chika and You chimed in soon after and, while Dia did find them cute, it was already too late to salvage the ‘onee-chan’ idea.

And so, at the end, they settled with ‘Dia-chan’. It did feel a bit odd to be called that by the younger girls but it certainly closed the distance Dia wanted to remove between the grades. This cemented her protective feeling over them and her role as the shadow-leader of their idol group, just as the amazing and cool Elichika had been!!

Although, Yoshiko is adamant in calling her ‘Diamond’ in English during her Yohane persona…

Dia shakes her head and returns her attention back to Riko. “Anyways, Hanamaru-san, Chika-san and You-san have started referring to me as ‘Dia-chan’, while Yoshiko-san is… probably going to directly call me ‘Dia’ as she does Mari-san and you.”

Comprehension dawns upon Riko’s features, though a bit of the exasperation remains and now maternal patience appears to have taken over. It is the same expression she wears whenever Chika and Mari get too excited about their various ideas.

It is rather odd to have such expression directed at her, Kurosawa Dia. As an older sister and the heiress of a traditional family, Dia has not felt like a child yearning to be placated since, well, she was actually still a child.

“So, you want me to stop calling you Dia-san?” Riko says slowly.

“Yes,” Dia then adds defensively. “That should close the distance between you and I as well.”

Indeed, there is an inexplicable wall between them. It is easy for Dia to treat the other four younger girls like little sisters, just less pandering as she involuntarily finds herself doing to Ruby. However, with Riko, Dia could only interact with her as she would towards other younger students of Uranohoshi. Dia does not want that, since they are both fellow members of Aqours and should have been much closer.

Their personalities match, both being people of logic and sense (most of the time anyway), so why the distance? It couldn’t be because Riko is from the city - she is quite close with Chika and You after all. Not to mention, due to subunit practice and choreography coordination, she gets along with Mari and Kanan like they are good friends already.

Truth be told, Dia is envious of their closeness. Therefore she came up with this plan to once for all remove any barrier. The answer must lies with the way Riko calls her name!

Dia nods to herself, more and more convinced with her educated guess. Today is the day. No more kouhai-senpai relationship but fellow members of Aqours, of equal standing!

“Not Dia-san…” Riko murmurs to herself, “Dia-cha-“

They both blink and, for some reason, blush in chagrin. Riko chuckles awkwardly as she waves it off. “That sounds too weird, doesn’t it?”

“You call Kanan-san that just fine…” Words slip out before Dia realizes it, making her fluster more.

Riko appears just as taken aback. “Chika-chan and You-chan do it so naturally that I find myself calling her Kanan-chan as well. She does have that older sister feel-?”

“And I do not?” Dia grimaces at her second slip-up. This is beyond embarrassing! This sounds like she’s whining to Riko about trivial complaints or even lack of attention?! No, this shall not do!

“Um, well, you do,” Riko clearly looks uncomfortable with the way she averts her gaze. “I’m fond of, maybe even a bit envious of, how close you are with Ruby-chan. I’m an only child, so sometimes I do wonder what it feels like to have a sibling.” Her voice is laced with exasperated fondness now. “Well, truthfully, Mari-san feels like an older sister, especially during our Guilty Kiss meetings.”

“But not me?” Dia doesn’t like how desperate she sounds now, but pride compels her to demand an acceptable answer. “You said I feel like an older sister but, from the way you explain, it seems like you hold Kanan-san and Mari-san in different regards than you do for me.”

“U-Um Dia-san-!” For some reason, Riko blushes harder and sounds rather panicked.

“No, try again!”

“E-Erm-!”

“Come on, say it…”

“D-D-Di…!”

“Say my name!”

Dia breathes heavily, her hand pressed against the spot beside Riko’s head to ensure the latter could not escape. It is only now that she notices how close they are, physically, for she has backed up the younger girl against the cabinet.

Frowning, Dia is about to step back and apologize when she realizes how different Riko appears in this position. The burgundy-haired girl is mesmerizing with her mouth slightly agape, her cheeks flushed and amber eyes wide. Various emotions swirl in her gaze, of uncertainty and unknown yearning. Dia has never seen her so vulnerable other than around Shiitake, and that is in a completely different way too.

This… this makes Dia want to do something.

“Dia…”

The heiress shivers, pleasantly surprised by how the soft voice tickles up her body. How do those syllables sound so wonderfully different, uttered by this girl? The duration is too short though, not enough for her to thoroughly appraise this change.

“Again.”

A shaky exhale. “Dia.”

There’s a strange spike of heat in the air between them, and Dia finds herself staring at Riko’s lips. “Again.”

“N-no,” Riko whispers coyly, “you have to call my name too, it’s only fair.”

Dia couldn’t help but smile in agreement. “Very well then… Riko.”

The younger girl swallows and returns the smile. “Dia.”

She doesn’t know who closes the distance first, but the intangible barrier between them certainly is gone.

It is only much, much later that Dia and Riko learn their little exchange is overheard by the entire school due to the P.A. equipment being accidentally switched on at an inconvenient point.

That’s another story for another day.

[gloverdominic92]

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