30. how has your character's first impressions of their party members changed since they met them? have they stayed the same?
Since Ace pointed out that only 10 days have passed in game in the like 6 months that we’ve been playing, I’ve had to reevaluate some things lol. It’s hard for his opinion to have changed too deeply in such a short amount of time, but he is getting to know his party members better. He’s very interested in getting to know more about Zenera, given that she’s licherally from a different world and seems to know all this cool shit (he’s esp interested in learning about explosions from her lol). He enjoys spending time with Ambrose, because they never fail to amuse him (and he also kinda feels safe being with another drow, he didn’t grow up with too many drow friends). Idk how much he’s thought about it but I definitely want him to have more interactions with Kid, the two of them talking about what it’s like being the youngest members of the group and such. He’s been impressed with what he’s seen from Omaren, as they seem to be the master of many, and Sparks would definitely like to learn from that.
“Stop telling me you’re okay” for Haruka & Michiru?
1600 words! Takes place right after this fic, AU of Mystery and Shadow, I hope you enjoy!
People did not describe Michiru Kaioh as tough. One would assume this strange, given her ability to simply put her personal feelings to one side, to dispel any emotion that might alight on her, and her historical ability to accept that life was simply what it was, and there was precious little that could be done about it.
But the fact of the matter was, Haruka thought, people didn’t think of Michiru as tough because she was too beautiful. It was like calling a diamond tough. It was the hardest substance in the world, but nobody noticed that, they only saw the way it shined in the light. No one noticed how strong Michiru was, because no one could look past her brilliance.
Haruka knew. Haruka knew how tough she’d been, even though she never got credit for it.
Sometimes Haruka Tenoh felt very guilty indeed. They had a happy and relatively calm life, three years out from their tragedy, and they loved their daughter, and eagerly hoped for another. Haruka cooked and was beginning to write little pieces for different car websites, and Michiru seemed to love her job with the art museum.
The gala last night, a joint effort between her and the symphony, should have been a masterpiece for her. Everyone had said how great it was.
Even with all these good things, Haruka felt guilty. Michiru had lost plenty when they’d been hurt in the final battle, too, but she had spent all her time thinking of Haruka, and Haruka had also, spent all her time thinking of herself. She’d been hard to live with, and sometimes the shame of the way she acting make the back of her neck grow hot, and her chest get tight. Michiru’d forgiven her--it wasn’t even sure if she’d ever really been mad--but Haruka still thought about all the opportunities Michiru never got to be upset.
Haruka sat on the living room floor, thinking all these things as she fixed up the caster on her chair.
She was crying, last night. Michiru missed a lot things, too, and Haruka’s chest was heavy with the weight of having neglected her.
The soft and graceful footfall came up behind her, and there was a glass of lemonade offered at the side table.
“I rather did tell you, Haruka.” She set down the tray that had contained both glasses and took a sip of her own.
Haruka spun the caster easily. “Wasn’t hard to fix,” She grinned, “Just a pain in the ass last night.”
Michiru gave a little smile. “Even so, you would do well to consider other options before tossing yourself down a flight of stairs.”
Haruka fiddled with the small wrench her hands. Even years of therapy couldn’t always make her good at saying what she wanted to say. Things came out wrong, and she didn’t want things to come out wrong with Michiru. Michiru needed her, too.
“You were upset.” It wasn’t much, only three words, but they hung in the air pendulously.
Michiru did not immediately rise to her own defense, simply sat for a moment on the couch as Haruka looked at her. She knew Michiru had hoped she’d just forget everything that happened last night. But Haruka was resolute. She was going to try to help Michiru, in all the ways that Michiru had helped her.
Michiru finally gave a sigh. “Haruka, it is no great matter, it was only the fleeting quality of a--”
“No,” Haruka shook her head, “Stop telling me you’re okay.”
“I’m not entirely certain what you mean.” She adjusted herself on the couch, “In as much as I’m aware, I don’t have a single--”
“I know,” Haruka scooted herself over to the couch and pulled herself up next to Michiru, “You’re not falling apart, because you don’t, and you don’t because no one ever gives you room to, but I want to give you room to. I want you to know you don’t have to be...you don’t have to pretend to be a diamond. It’s okay if things leave marks.” She touched her chest as she said it, and felt a little embarrassed for its sentimentality.
But if Michiru could always be tough, if she could have been so strong for Haruka, Haruka could be strong enough to be soft with her.
Michiru sighed, and did not look at Haruka, simply stared off into the distance for a moment. Haruka knew she was thinking. MIchiru wasn’t like her, didn’t just say whatever came to her mind. Everything Michiru did was considered and thoughtful. Especially when she didn’t want to talk about something, which Haruka was pretty sure this was.
Her voice was so quiet, when she finally did speak. “It is, in my experience, an easier thing to simply put things into boxes, rather than decide what one must do with them. In the same way my violin still rests in the attic. Like so many things, it is of no use to me, and I refuse to let it go.”
Haruka put her arm around Michiru. She talked in poems and riddles, and even after so many years with her, Haruka sometimes still had to puzzle them out. But she loved Michiru. She loved her riddles and poems and all the things that made her Michiru Kaioh, and so she would happily puzzle every day for the rest of her life.
She opened her mouth, trying to meet MIchiru’s turn of phrase. “Yeah but attics get full. So, you gotta decide what to junk. Or what to keep.” She sighed. She was no good at this. “Michi, there’s no reason you can’t go to therapy. You should feel sad about not being able to play. Let yourself feel sad about that, so you can, you know, put it away. Then you can remember all the things you’re good at.”
Michiru shook her head. “Haruka--”
“I know you had a really bad experience when your parents made you go. That was a long time ago, and,” She shrugged, “I don’t think you’re crazy so it’ll be even better.”
Michiru closed her eyes.
“Michi,” Haruka was full of dogged determination, now that she’d had the courage to say it, “you can find whoever you like, or whatever, but it’s not just at the party last night. You’re sad whenever we go to the art museum, we don’t go to the symphony anymore, you’re just...staying away from everything you like. Even I’m at the gym now.”
It was an inelegant speech. It hadn’t been the one Haruka had been meaning to give. She wished she was the writerly type, the one that could say how much she missed the way Michiru described art movement as they strolled through the halls, they way she would carefully identify things Haruka liked, and point her to more. How she’d adored the sparkle in Michiru’s eyes as she teased after the girl in some opera, her half-smile as she compared composers, and the things they did. They were things she loved, even if she’d never meant to, and they brought her such light.
She would tell Michiru, if she was better at saying things, that she loved seeing how happy Michiru was with M.A., and how she loved the way she talked to her daughter, and looked at her. But that Michiru had loved other things, too, and that she could teach M.A. about them.
What she really wanted to tell her is that she could still paint, even if it were different. She’d learned how to write with her left hand, and Haruka saw no reason why she couldn’t switch the paintbrush, too, but she also knew enough to know that wasn’t on the table today.
When Michiru opened her eyes, there we tears in them. “I rather don’t see the point. What’s gone is gone, and there is little value in keening over it.”
“I want you to talk to me,” Haruka had not know how sad she felt, until she heard her own voice, “I want you to let me be with you in this stuff.”
Michiru rested her head on Haruka’s shoulder, and allowed a tear, shining as a diamond but not so hard, anymore, to plop gracelessly down her face. They sat there, together, for a moment, simply taking in the exquisite pain of growing, of learning not only to move on but to mourn. Michiru gave a sniffle, and nodded.
“All right, then. I will attempt, for I love you so, to be more, open, I suppose, over the matter.”
“We can do it together, Michi,” She kissed her on the top of the head, “I was way worse than you are, and look at me now. I’ve, you know, adapted, and I’m happy again.”
“Yes, truly, you have integrated all considerations of your condition into your life,” she gave a giggle, “You’ve left your wheelchair in the middle of the room.”
Haruka gave a playful scowl. “Yeah, I just now thought of that.”
Michiru rubbed Haruka’s chest aimlessly. “I suppose you’re trapped here with me for time and eternity.”
Haruka chuckled. “I can probably deal. Till I get hungry.”
Michiru drew her arms around Haruka. “Sometimes,” she started slowly. If she could be hard, and a diamond, then this could not break her, “I still dream of playing, and I can feel the strings on the tips of my fingers…”
It was slow, reading this diary of pains kept in Michiru’s heart, locked away like a terrible contagion. But Haruka had, at the very least, broken the lock.
She had extensive private tutors paid by her parents to ensure she would always know the answers at school, and it ended up feeding her superiority complex because, even at the private schools her parents enrolled her in, she often knew more than the teachers did at the subjects they taught.
It also makes her deeply embarrassed when she faces something she doesn’t know how to handle (as it happens, dating Haruka leads to a good handful of these)
Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious
SORT OF RELATED TO HEADCANON A, HARUKA TRIES TO TEACH MICHIRU TO DRIVE STICK SHIFT, AND SHE IS SO ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE AT IT
Haruka talks about cars like they’re a part of her own body, and Michiru has just no idea what she’s on about. She keeps stalling out the car and getting increasingly frusterated because she is a Kaioh and a Kaioh cannot be outdone by rusty old pickup worth less than her cheapest handbag
But she can never get it, and she’s sworn Haruka to secrecy. (But Mina knows, and is biding her time with the knowledge)
Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends
My favorite headcanon that I always write about is that no matter the timeline, Michiru always knows if she or Haruka will die first, and approximately when and how (the closer it is, the more she knows). She lives with the knowledge either that she will leave Haruka alone, or that Haruka will leave her. The former brings her a perverse sense of peace, because she always assumes she’ll die protecting Haruka. The later she rails against, it’s something she can never accept even ass the visions get clearer and clearer.
Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.
In canon it’s kind of implied she’s a swimmer for sport, but I love the idea that she’d never ever do it competitively. The water is one thing that is just for Michiru, it relaxes her and is something she doesn’t have to be the best at. (For bonus angst, when she awakens as Neptune she gets to doubt if it wass ever her at all.)
Favorite LGBT+ Character/Couple: HI MY NAME IS ROCKET AND I’M A GONER FOR THE ORIGINAL SPACE LESBIANS HARUKA AND MICHIRU
Favorite LGBT+ Song: Listen, we all know Hayley Kiyoko is our queer girl jesus so is it really any surprise that “Girls Like Girls” is one of the top played songs on my iPod??
Favorite Pride Memory: I have never been to pride admittedly. I’m a bit of a self proclaimed small town queer that focuses a lot on stealth and rioting in my own quiet way. I love seeing all the pictures and all the happy smiles but I may be one of those that just hangs out and gives silent support.
Would You Consider Yourself a Supernatural Gay or an Extraterrestrial Gay: .... I guess werewolfs and vampires and ghosts and stuff fall under Supernatural so yeah let’s go with that one.
Are you THE “gay cousin” or does your family have more than one: I AM THE GAY COUSIN YES. NOT ONLY GAY BUT TRANS GAY TOO!!! although my dad’s brother is gay and has been happily married/with his partner for the past like. 28 years so it’s maybe not quite as revolutionary
Favorite LGBT+ Meme: honestly I’ve no idea what qualifies as a “lgbt” meme but I’m willing to bet “this is homophobia” is one and in this essay I
