My wife’s review of the SuperS movie: “I like that the fairy cried glitter
Author: sittingoverheredreaming
25, gay, nerd. Probably crying as we speak.
The wife is seeing the SuperS movie with me today and I am a nerd:
@ people who have rational, proportionate reactions to making a mistake at work:
- How???!??
Man, the longer BatB goes on the more afraid I get of messing it up and disappointing you all
HaruMichi BatB Part 12! Finished just in time to get it up before work, as always here is a Masterpost link
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Haruka did her best to be reasonable. Flowers were a single gesture. Flowers did not make Michiru any different, they did not mean she had changed.
And yet Haruka felt that they meant exactly that. She could not imagine the Michiru who had been cursed, the MIchiru Usagi had described, working in the garden for anyone. She rolled back onto her bed and rested the flowers on her chest. She’d always wanted to get flowers from a girl. She’d always wanted to be wooed. But she loved too fast and too hard most of the time, and trying to play coy got her nothing at all.
The scent of the roses wafted over her like a blanket. How strange to be pursued. How nice. It hardly mattered that Michiru was cursed. A woman of her class, thinking Haruka was something special? Haruka laughed at herself. She was an absolute sucker. One bouquet, and she was over the moon.
She traced the petals with her fingers, blushing at the supple soft feel of them. What would it feel like, to touch Michiru’s cheek like this? Would she be rough against Haruka’s hand? Would it matter?
Haruka felt a tug and and ache and she sat up quickly. She was not… it wasn’t like that. But one good gesture deserved another, surely. She should plan something. Something just as big as Michiru digging around in the dirt. She thought of their garden walk, and the things they talked about.
If Michiru could step down for Haruka, perhaps Haruka could step up for her.
She placed the flowers gently on her pillow and stood. She would need help, for something big.
“Usagi?” She called down the hall.
“You like the flowers, don’t you?”
Haruka turned to see Usagi’s shadow bouncing like an excited child. “Yeah, was that your idea?”
“No,” Usagi said, “I would not have thought it was a suggestion my lady would take well.”
The notion that it was all Michiru made Haruka smile.
“She hasn’t been like this before.”
“I want to do something for her in return. But I can’t do it alone.” Haruka took a deep breath. “I want to show her I can do something on her level. I want… I mean, it won’t be the same without people. But, when she was human, she had balls here, right?”
Usagi stopped bouncing. Somehow, that made her excitement even clearer. “You want to throw a ball?”
“It won’t be much, I’ve never even been to a dance, and you don’t have to know how to dance for those these days, but I thought it could still be…”
Color seeped in around Usagi’s edges. “Romantic?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
“Oh Haruka!” Usagi hugged her with such force that her translucent arms went halfway through Haruka’s stomach and gave her shivers. “This is more than I ever dreamed of.”
“It’s nothing. She’s just… nice, when she tries. So I want to be nice back.”
Usagi snorted. “This is more than nice, Haruka.” She pulled away. “The house should be able to make music, functions like that stayed even without people to carry them out.”
“I’ll need you to convince her to come.”
“That may be hard. But I’ll do it. When—“
“Tonight.” She didn’t want to lose her nerve. “Before dinner.”
“I have to get going, then.” She took a step, then launched into another hug. “Thank you, Haruka.” She glided off down the hall, humming.
_____
Haruka regretted the idea as soon as she faced the wardrobe. She’d never been good at dressing up. And she couldn’t even dance. She was going to launch Michiru right back to superiority, she would see that Haruka certainly was not worth anything. The wardrobe showed her a variety of menswear styles, some from Michiru’s era, some from the present, and Haruka felt absurd even looking at them. She could hardly even think of actually wearing anything she saw.
“The navy would look sharp.”
Haruka jumped. Mako leaned against the doorway.
“Does it help to know she’s agonizing over if she can wear anything?”
Haruka hadn’t thought of it. “I’m sorry.”
Mako stood straight, intimidating even while incorporeal. “If you’re playing a game—“
“I’m not.”
“If you’re playing a game, you have to play it a little longer. Michiru is really falling for you.”
Haruka turned and pretended to look through the clothes. She did not think she could hide that the thought made her happy. “I don’t—“
“Here.” Mako came up behind her and grabbed a navy jacket with princely silver buttons. “You’ll make her heart jump.”
Haruka looked at Mako, wishing she had more details to read her expression from. “I’m confused.”
Mako sighed. “I love Michiru, I don’t want to see her hurt.” She cocked her head. “I’m in half a mind to threaten you. But I’m also tired.” She pressed her hands together, and then through one another. “I want you to do what you will, so we might move on.”
“Usagi said if she like me, that itself might be enough.”
“She knows more than I give her credit for.” She sat on the edge of Haruka’s bed. “It was hardest on her. Even compared to Michiru. She had a baby. We should have denounced our lady and saved ourselves.” She faced Haruka, face stern in what few features she had. “I want you to go, if you get the chance. Don’t make our mistake.”
Haruka hesitated. Her mind told her Mako was right. Her heart protested. But she had to try and be reasonable. “I promise.”
“Thank you.” She looked at the wardrobe. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
“Not a clue.” Haruka laughed at herself. “I’m kind of hoping the idea is charming enough that it won’t matter.”
“Let Michiru lead. And don’t look at your feet.” Mako put a hand on Haruka’s shoulder. “You’re going to do good.”
Haruka smiled, but she had a foreboding sense that they had different ideas of what good meant.
Holy shit Jacob’s Ladder is intense
Mourn Me- Beryl
She ran him through.
Traitor! yelled her armies. Liar! yelled her troops. Death to the false prince!
He looked surprised, to have her sword find the gap in his armor. To see her eyes beneath her helm.
Lover! yelled her heart. You could have come back to me.
He took a swing, even as his life poured out of him. Fighting to the end for the wrong kingdom. Another soldier struck him to the ground, and he did not move again. They pressed forward, irreverent to the body of the boy who might have grown to be their king. They had a Queen, now, who would never betray them for the iron fist of the Moon.
There could be no weakness in their Queen. But as they marched on the castle, her heart stayed heavy in the dirt behind them. The image of Endymion, broken on the ground, stayed with her. He’d been bewitched, she’d said at first, and had wanted so badly to believe it. Surely, he would not forsake his people. Surely, he would not forsake her. But when they met in battle, the whole army saw his eyes were clear and his choice clearer.
She hated him. But she loved him also. She loved the boy who gave her flowers, the boy who dreamt of peace. The boy who’d said when they married, he’d let her do everything, because she would be a better ruler than he could ever be.
That part had been true to the end, hadn’t it, Endymion?
She’d listened, when they were taught what it meant to rule. You love your people first, yourself second, and anything else third. She loved him third, but she loved him. And he loved Serenity above all else. These are our people! she wanted to scream at him. Turn your back on me if you must, but not your people. He had never given her the chance. The war had never given her a chance.
An inhuman shriek pierced the air around the castle— word of her lover’s fall had reached that alien princess, and now she dared mourn what was never rightfully hers. A whole new wave of hatred crashed over Beryl as the armies of earth fought their way inside. She would win this war, make Endymion’s death more than a casualty of the Moon’s continued tyranny. She’d take his body back to earth, where it could bring life to the soil. He’d give her flowers once more. It would mean something. He would finally do right by his people.
One by one, Earth struck down the Moon’s warriors. That vile princess fell, and Beryl tasted victory. Beryl tasted the peace her prince had dreamed of, won with his blood.
She faced the Moon’s queen, ready to accept no parlay, no surrender, yet the queen did not rise. Tears streamed down her ghost white face, yet she met Beryl’s eyes with a smile.
“This is not over,” she said, her voice deep enough to echo against the palace walls. “The moon shall rise again, and no one will mourn you when you fall.”
Beryl raised her sword. “It is you who has no one left to mourn you.” She charged, and was lost in moon-bright light.
Eons later, she died alone in the cold, where no kingdom would avenge her, where no flowers could grow from her corpse.
Mourn Me- Beryl
She ran him through.
Traitor! yelled her armies. Liar! yelled her troops. Death to the false prince!
He looked surprised, to have her sword find the gap in his armor. To see her eyes beneath her helm.
Lover! yelled her heart. You could have come back to me.
He took a swing, even as his life poured out of him. Fighting to the end for the wrong kingdom. Another soldier struck him to the ground, and he did not move again. They pressed forward, irreverent to the body of the boy who might have grown to be their king. They had a Queen, now, who would never betray them for the iron fist of the Moon.
There could be no weakness in their Queen. But as they marched on the castle, her heart stayed heavy in the dirt behind them. The image of Endymion, broken on the ground, stayed with her. He’d been bewitched, she’d said at first, and had wanted so badly to believe it. Surely, he would not forsake his people. Surely, he would not forsake her. But when they met in battle, the whole army saw his eyes were clear and his choice clearer.
She hated him. But she loved him also. She loved the boy who gave her flowers, the boy who dreamt of peace. The boy who’d said when they married, he’d let her do everything, because she would be a better ruler than he could ever be.
That part had been true to the end, hadn’t it, Endymion?
She’d listened, when they were taught what it meant to rule. You love your people first, yourself second, and anything else third. She loved him third, but she loved him. And he loved Serenity above all else. These are our people! she wanted to scream at him. Turn your back on me if you must, but not your people. He had never given her the chance. The war had never given her a chance.
An inhuman shriek pierced the air around the castle— word of her lover’s fall had reached that alien princess, and now she dared mourn what was never rightfully hers. A whole new wave of hatred crashed over Beryl as the armies of earth fought their way inside. She would win this war, make Endymion’s death more than a casualty of the Moon’s continued tyranny. She’d take his body back to earth, where it could bring life to the soil. He’d give her flowers once more. It would mean something. He would finally do right by his people.
One by one, Earth struck down the Moon’s warriors. That vile princess fell, and Beryl tasted victory. Beryl tasted the peace her prince had dreamed of, won with his blood.
She faced the Moon’s queen, ready to accept no parlay, no surrender, yet the queen did not rise. Tears streamed down her ghost white face, yet she met Beryl’s eyes with a smile.
“This is not over,” she said, her voice deep enough to echo against the palace walls. “The moon shall rise again, and no one will mourn you when you fall.”
Beryl raised her sword. “It is you who has no one left to mourn you.” She charged, and was lost in moon-bright light.
Eons later, she died alone in the cold, where no kingdom would avenge her, where no flowers could grow from her corpse.
So there’s this other butch in my office, and I was really excited when I first got there because POTENTIAL BUTCH OFFICE FRIEND. But she had no interest in me and, it turns out, will ignore me even for work related questions. And mostly I got over it, I’m getting to be friends with other people, it’s all good.
Except today I found out when I’m not around she makes groan-worthy jokes in meetings and why are we not an amazing butch jokester tag team??? The lost potential is tragic.
So mistakes were made, the biggest one being thinking I could do this.
BUT my wife and I recently had an honest conversation about things we felt we missed out on doing our wedding the way we did (read: small and cheap) and one thing they said is they wished we had gotten a real wedding cake. And since tomorrow is the anniversary of the night we met, I took the opportunity to try and give them a cake. It’s not very good, but it did make them cry, so, small victories.
SittingOverHereDreaming 