@ everyone who has sent me props, I will be working on them (no matter when you sent them!), but probably not today, because today is reserved for working on a hubris-driven surprise for my wife
Chapter 11 of BatB! This is a slightly shorter chapter, and a hard one to write, but I hope you enjoy it! Masterpost link
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Michiru had never courted a woman. She had been courted, she had extended invitations to meet in dark corners, she had taken pleasure without giving any of herself away. Haruka was not someone you took into a dark corner and had your way with. Or at least, you did not only do that. If Michiru was going to open herself to Haruka, she had to do it properly.
She went out to the garden with paper and string. For once, her claws could be useful. Mako and Usagi, she knew, looked on from high windows. She could feel their gaze and was grateful they could not leave the house, even for the walled garden. Part of her— a very large part— felt deeply embarrassed by her actions. The great Lady Kaioh, harvesting flowers like some common gardener! The great Lady Kaioh, not only deigning to give a gift, but making a gift with her own hands.
She was above this.
She was above the dirt and bugs and the sun beating upon her back. She was above every marred petal and wilting bud she sifted through. She was above working for anyone’s affections.
And yet, when she found the first perfect rose and plucked it from the bush, a wave of happiness crashed through her chest. She was not above Haruka’s smile. Perhaps she was not above anything that might bring it around.
The longer she took and the more flowers she found, the better she felt. She tried to remember what Haruka had been drawn to when they walked together. Roses, of course, and, peonies. She’d even liked the little cornflowers, common as they were. Michiru used them for a spray of color, dark blue punctuating the soft pinks. She arranged them best she could, wrapping the paper gently so as to not rip it, and tying the string into the prettiest bow she could manage.
She held it out to examine her work, and every good feeling forsook her. It looked like a child’s work, something a young boy of common taste might pick for his mother. It was not worthy of Michiru and it certainly was not worthy of Haruka.
Her grip tightened, she tensed to throw it away. But that impulse made her sadder still. Haruka deserved beautiful things, and perhaps this was not a beautiful thing but it was the closest Michiru had to offer. It felt wrong to put her shame before Haruka’s joy, however small it might be at such a garish offering.
She reentered the house as quietly as she could, checking around every corner before she emerged. She could compromise— she would leave the flowers at Haruka’s bedside, and she could think it was merely the magic of the house that brought them rather than Michiru’s own hand. Perhaps they would make her smile anyway.
Luck brought Michiru to Haruka’s room unspotted. The bed was half-made, covers thrown over the mattress but untucked and unsmoothed. Michiru remembered the state of her own chamber, as Haruka had seen it, and felt shame. She propped her bouquet up on the pillows and turned to go.
“Oh, you can come in my room but I can’t go in yours?”
Michiru froze. Haruka leaned against the doorway. “I apologize, I—“
Haruka smiled. She was teasing. Michiru could not think of anyway to respond.
“I will go.”
“Wait.” Haruka stepped up to the bed. “Are those… for me?”
“Yes,” Michiru said, feeling warm. “They’re not…. I would have liked to have done better, for you.”
Haruka lifted them to look, her cheeks very red. Michiru worried she might be angry, but she turned the bouquet in her hands in a way that Michiru could only call reverent. “Did you pick them? For me?”
Michiru wished she had been turned into something very small, that she might have the ability to turn an hide beneath a chair or a blanket. “I did, I tried to remember what you liked and I did not do well, forgive me.”
“They’re beautiful.” Haruka buried in nose within the paper and stayed there. “This might sound silly,” she said, her voice muffled and thick, “but no one’s ever given me flowers.”
“Well, you need not count this, if you’d like your first time to be better.”
“Michi.” Haruka laughed, but then she stiffened. “I mean, Michiru. I love them, thank you.”
“I wanted to leave them so you wouldn’t know it was me.” Michiru ran her claws along the back of her knuckles.
Haruka shook her head and smiled. “You are incomprehensible sometimes.”
“I only wanted to do something nice.”
“Thank you.”
The bedroom was very small, Michiru noticed now, though it had seemed spacious before. The walls were so close, and so was Haruka. There was nowhere for either of them to look but each other. And Haruka was looking, and Michiru could not read her. She was no longer teasing. Her smile was soft and her eyes were too. Michiru could not fathom the softness. It felt to her like falling through clouds, there was nothing to grasp onto and nothing to break momentum.
“Your hands are still dirty,” Haruka said. She reached out but stopped short of touching her.
“I should have washed before coming in, I—“
“No, it’s just… It’s nice that someone like you would get dirty, especially just to bring me flowers.”
Michiru leaned towards Haruka, thinking of letting her take her dirty hand, thinking of how this moment would go if she were not a monster. Their eyes met, and for a moment Michiru felt the moment would go that way despite everything she was.
But it could not. She straightened her posture. “I should wash now, though. It is hardly becoming of a lady to go about with soiled hands.”
“Okay.”
Michiru hurried from the room, but in a glance back she saw Haruka sit on her bed, still admiring the flowers. Still smiling. For an instant Michiru forgot the curse, forgot every selfish reason she had for courting Haruka, and all she could think of was finding more ways to get that smile.
Also fuck you for coming up with such a beautiful song just Like That, jfc that’s impressive as hell
I want you to know that after I wrote this, I had a dream that I ripped off the song from some classic rock band without realizing (I think it was ACDC? there was a lot of guitar like that)
Wow I love how you wrote Pluto here and I would love to see more of her with Minako tbh
Pluto and Minako are like, my secret favorite duo. In some ways, their burdens are the same (especially since I take the line that Minako is the only Inner who got full SilMil memories). And Pluto is the singular person who can be an adult for Minako the way she needs, for lack of a better wording. For some things, she’s the only person who’s older and has seen more.
This was lovely and sad. I particularly like how you did Pluto with her mystery and compassion. You get the feeling she’s even looking over Minako a long time.
Ahhh thank you, I love Pluto so much but find her really hard to get right. Sometimes I think of her as the senshi with the biggest heart, I imagine her wanting to take care of everyone even when she cannot act outright.
IN HIGH DEMAND I SEE, AND VERY HARD. I think Haruka would have a hard time naming a single happiest family memory, especially as she gets older, but I went for a small one that would stick in the deepest part of her heart. ______
Haruka had a photo of the day she was born.
Her mother looked terrified.
Her mother looked relieved.
Her mother looked overwhelmed.
Her mother looked like holding her baby was the scariest thing in the world.
Haruka had a photo of the day her first daughter was born.
Haruka looked terrified.
Haruka looked relieved.
Haruka looked overwhelmed.
Haruka looked like holding her baby was the scariest thing in the world.
She kept them together in her bedside table– her secret reminder of what she was.
It was much harder to keep secrets from children than she expected.
Mimi found them at age four– by accident, she claimed, the drawer just opened, though Haruka did not need Michiru’s shrewd eyebrow raise to know Mimi was digging around for candy. Mimi did not let them change the subject. “Papa!” She said, waving the more recent picture as high as she could reach. “Is this me?”
“It is, Poptart.” She picked her up and settled into the couch. “That’s the day you were born.”
“Where’s Mama?”
“We’ve got other photos with Mama.”
Michiru caught her eye. “Do you want to see more, Mimi?”
She nodded solemnly. “I was very small.”
“You were.” Michiru knelt down and tickled Mimi’s tummy. “You were teeny tiny. And now you’re grown up so big.”
She left to dig out a photo album, and Mimi brought the other photo to the front. “Who’s this one, Papa?”
Haruka bit her lip. “That’s the day I was born.”
Mimi frowned and looked from the picture to Haruka and back again. “That baby is very teeny tiny.”
“Your papa and mama started off teeny tiny, just like you.”
She kept frowning. Haruka tried to remember what the parenting books said about this. Was she old enough to grasp it? Mimi eyed the photo with all the suspicion her little body could muster. She held the two photos next to each other.
“Who else is this one?”
“That’s my mom.”
Mimi looked up at her. “Grandma’s your mom.”
Haruka laughed. “Grandma’s Mama’s mom.” Mimi stared. “I have a different mom.”
“I have two grandmas?”
“Just one, Honey bunch.” She rubbed Mimi’s arm. This was a talked she’d wanted to have when she was much older. “Papa’s mom… wasn’t very nice. She didn’t really want me.”
Mimi was quiet for a long moment. Her thumbs rubbed back and forth on the photos’ edges, leaving small sticky fingerprints in the gloss. “Do you want me, Papa?”
“More than anything.”
“Good.” She set the pictures aside and turned to snuggle into Haruka’s chest. “I want my Papa.” She clung on, and Haruka held her tight. She waited for the questions to go deeper. She waited for Mimi to deem her unworthy. But Mimi just stayed close.
“Your Papa is a good Papa, isn’t she Mimi?” Michiru said, her eyes meeting Haruka’s as she came back into the room. She smiled gently and sat next to them.
Mimi pressed harder into Haruka. “My Papa’s the best Papa.”
A sob caught in Haruka’s throat. For the first time, she felt like maybe, for her little girl, she really could be.
watching old lesbians learn new slang vid on FB and they float ‘pillow princess’ and the middle butch goes “ohhhhhhhh, i know what a pillow princess is :>>>>>” i love her
@wizphobe get ready to fall in love at least three times
That’s all I can do tonight, but I’ll do the rest over the next few days! Thank you so much, and if anyone wants to send in more you have my sincerest invitation
Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character watching over someone
You didn’t specify, so I went with probably not what you had it mind! I hope you still enjoy it, and I apologize in advance for the rhymes.
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Minako could only anticipate so much. She’d had the hubris, once, to tell Pluto she was prepared for every possibility. Pluto had smiled, the way Pluto smiled that was more gutting than tears, and said she hadn’t.
And Pluto, of course, had been right.
Minako was prepared for war. She was prepared for destruction. For the dwindling of their humanity as they became gods. She’d thought through scenarios of their past taking over, their future vanishing, of their powers forsaking them at the worst moment.
She was not prepared for this.
A weak heart, the doctor had said.
Minako had nearly laughed in his face. No one who’d known Rei a good thirty seconds would call any part of her weak, and certainly not her stubborn, stupid heart.
“It’s consistent with her family history,” the doctor had said, more to the clipboard than to Minako. “If only we had caught it sooner.”
If only I had caught it sooner! It was stupid, not to think of it. To think that superpowers would steamroll all else. To think they were already gods enough to cheat their genes.
Rei lay quiet now, faded like a ghost, like she was already gone. Minako could not bring herself to go in, to hear the slow beeps that went with the lines on the machine she was hooked up to. She must hate it, all the wires. Any moment, she’d wake up and tell the nurses to stop wasting electricity.
Any moment.
Any moment.
Minako was supposed to keep them all safe. She was supposed to watch over them, she’d done everything, she thought, and yet…
She put her head against the glass. She’d relied on more eyes than just her own. Rei was how she saw, sometimes. They were partners, fitting together so fluidly sometimes it felt like they were a single body, filling each weakness with the other’s strength. How would Minako see now? How could she watch over them without her sight?
And who, now, would watch over Minako?
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. Pluto smiled at her once more. “There is still hope.”
“You sound like Usagi.” Minako wiped her face. “But you and me, we know how this ends, don’t we? Knowing isn’t the same as giving up.”
Pluto inclined her head in concession. “Acceptance is just as admirable.”
“I haven’t accepted it.” Minako made a fist against the glass. “I can’t accept it, not until I see.”
“We don’t really know then, do we?” Pluto put her hand next to Minako’s, not quite touching, and began to hum softly. The melody struck something deep in Minako’s soul, something old and sad and slow.
“A song for a vigil.”
“The language is lost now, even to me. I have sung for you many times, even as the words forsook me.”
“Do you remember what it meant?”
“Something like a light for ships in the harbor, and stars for ships at sea. I look out for those I love, and love looks after me.” She traced waves across the glass. “I do not know what future lies before us. But I will watch it come.”
Minako could not be sure if the later was part of the song, or Setsuna’s own sentiment. It wove into the song in her head anyway, and she began to hum along. A light for ships at harbor, stars for ships at sea. If you must go where I cannot, I’ll keep watch for thee.
She kept humming as she took her first steps into that sterile room, as she pulled a plastic chair up to Rei’s bedside. The papery sheets crinkled when she took her hand. I know not what lies before us, and may never understand. But I’ll watch it come beside you, we’ll face it hand in hand.
There are many creatures that only grow to be as big as their cage, and the heart is no different. Walls went up in Michiru’s childhood, steely bars of propriety, of superiority, of talent and of class. Her heart stayed small and safe in their confines.
That is, until someone dared reach in.
Michiru took Haruka’s hand and expanded her walls little by little, until her heart had not a cage but a home. Warmer, more vulnerable, but still safe, still confined. She had one person to love, to protect, to give everything for. Her heart grew, but only within its borders.
And then, the first time she sees Haruka pick up their newborn, those borders shatter. Michiru’s heart cannot stay small, cannot stay safe, cannot be confined by anything. She is raw and wild and pulsing. She looks upon her wife and daughter, and there is no going back. No cage could hold a beast this size. No walls could stand between her and all the barbs love bears. She is free. She is loose. She is lost.
Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about a character trying to cheer another one up.
Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble.
Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about a character asking for another [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about characters taking shots.
Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about characters fighting with/or against each other.
Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about a character saving another.
Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character watching over someone [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character asking someone to…
Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character giving someone an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character killing another.
Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble.
Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character mourning another’s death.
Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character healing another.
Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character giving another a gift.
Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character drawing a picture of another [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character trying to calm another down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character trying to get another to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble.
Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character confessing something [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character freeing another, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character telling someone how they feel about them.
Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about the subject of wedlock [be proposing or marrying, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]
Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]
Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character dressing another [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]
I’m trying to poke my creative brain with a stick, and this looks like a good stick. Any takers? Unrelated prompts are also acceptable.
SittingOverHereDreaming 