It was so easy that it was a game she’d be better off not playing. What was she doing, trying to run circles around a kid at Candyland? This was immature in the extreme, and Seiya Kou knew it. Even if she hadn’t, Taiki was only too happy to let her know every single time she did it.
She also didn’t care.
It felt good to needle another person, and if she was so simple to set off, well, Seiya wasn’t responsible for whatever had made Haruka into a pile of dry tinder. She’d been that way from the day they first met. It was an easy thing to draw her out, to make her eyebrow twitch, to make her yell, to make her go even further than that and leave her looking like an asshole. Idiot.
“Well, you’re not,” Haruka shook her head furiously, “You’re a fucking--jerk ass--son of a bitch.”
Seiya leaned back in her chair and laughed. “Don’t hurt yourself, Merriam-Webster.”
Usagi had left with Mamoru. He’d swept in, to where she and Seiya were sitting and chatting. They were having a good time, and Usagi was laughing and her eyes were sparkling with that firework of joy she put off, and the way she smelled like cotton candy, and the way her cheeks puffed into two candy apples when she laughed, Usagi was a carnival in herself. Seiya’d bought her a big pink fruity strawberry drink. She loved it. Seiya knew she would. She’d almost forgotten about Mamoru, when he showed up. Then the laughing stopped. Then Usagi left with him.
She hadn’t even looked back.
Seiya leaned forward and grinned. “That’s a dictionary, Haruka.”
“I know what it is!” Haruka spat. “I’m not fucking stupid!”
It was just like popping a balloon, just a little bit of pressure, just a little bit of aim.
“This manages to be both crass and childish, you know.” Yaten took a swirl of wine. Seiya’d forgotten anyone else was there. She was happy enough to keep acting like it was true.
Seiya looked around. It was relatively peaceful in the bar, quiet except for the few people who were looking over occasionally at Haruka’s little outbursts. Haruka was clutching her beer close to her like a child with a bottle and for one instant, Seiya almost felt sorry for her. But why should she? She had MIchiru, who loved her, and who was rich, and so why should she give a single solitary shit about hurting Haruka’s feelings?
“Oh please,” she took a swig of beer, “we all know Michiru’s uses for your tongue don’t involve intellectual stimulation. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a kept lover,” Yaten rolled her eyes and moved away from the table, Haruka’s face growing hot, “But you know, people get bored with--”
That was enough. She hadn’t even finished. She had a whole bit about Haruka’s parents getting bored with her that she’d have to stick in a back pocket.
Seiya had been expecting this, and Haruka still caught her across the jaw as they fell. She was long, and she was fast, and so Seiya knew she was at a distinct advantage in that way, but Haruka was also angry, and hurt, and these things turned her into a bull just waiting for a sword in its side. She managed to get a good one in the stomach and cuffed her in the ear before a group of men pulled Haruka off the top of her.
If Seiya could have felt anything but a sense of cruel satisfaction, she might have felt bad, seeing Haruka get tossed out, her ear turning red, tipping her head up like that meant no one could see she was almost crying. Idiot. Seiya got up off the ground and dusted herself off, pulling a last swing out of her beer. It’d be stupid to go out the front, where Haruka was probably moping or slowly trudging her way home back to Michiru. If she were smart, she’d get some noodles or something and clean up a little first. MIchiru didn’t like it when Haruka got into fights. She might find herself as on the outs as Seiya.
Maybe Seiya thought that was alright.
She slipped out the back, leaving her yen on the table, and whistled as she headed back to the apartment. The pleasure of the victory began to slip away from her as she headed down the dark alleyway, small yellow lights of counters where they friend and grilled fish laid out in front of her.
There was a very sudden and unexpected pain in her shoulder, and Seiya Kou quite rapidly found her face in close contact with a wall. She struggled to get out, but however she turned, the bright hot pain in her shoulder continued, or worsened. More humiliatingly, it felt like whoever it was wasn’t even trying.
“Just stay the fuck still or I’ll fucking wrench it out of the socket.”
Mina. Seiya didn’t often choose to clash with the leader of the Sol Senshi, who seemed to think her command extended to Seiya’s team and maybe the whole universe. People thought she was goofy. Seiya wasn’t so stupid as to fall for Mina’s trapdoor spider act. She knew cunning when she saw it, and so she avoided Mina when she could.
Currently, she could not.
“Fine. Fine! God.”
“Leave her the fuck alone.”
Seiya lifted her head up off the wall. “The fuck do you--”
Her head slammed back against the wall as the hold tightened. “Did I fucking stutter, Seiya?” She leaned forward and hissed into Seiya’s ear. “If she gets arrested because of you, you’re gonna mess with me. You will not enjoy that.”
She pushed Seiya against the wall one more time and backed up. Seiya whirled around to face her, wiping off her cheek.
“It’s not my fault she--”
“Oh, we both know that’s bullshit. Take some fucking responsibility.”
Seiya rubbed at her shoulder and shrugged. Mina shook her head and looked out toward the snack counters and smaller bars.
“You think Usagi would love you for this? For poking at Haruka till she bleeds? For getting her thrown out? For making her cry? Don’t tell Haruka I said that, she likes to pretend she’s a rock and an island.”
Seiya leaned against the wall, but said nothing. Usagi didn’t love her anyway. There was no point in trying to be the person Usagi could could love, because she was always just going to love that milquetoast rich boy because of destiny and fate and whatever. So who cared?
“Haruka’s not competition for you, Seiya.” Mina was looking at her now, drilling into her soul with those sharp eyes. “She thinks Usagi’s like, twelve. She’s in love with Michiru. What’s your fucking angle here? You know what?” she tossed up a hand. “Don’t answer me, cause you don’t know. You fucking clown on Haruka for getting hurt and lashing out but what the fuck are you doing, exactly?”
She turned to leave, and looked back one last time.
“She’ll never love you. Get your shit together and accept it.”
Now it was Seiya’s turn to tip her head, and turn back into the darkness.
Unrelated to the liveblog, but I thought @sittingoverheredreaming would like to see how much Hot Pocket is enjoying using her pin box as a midday nap spot.
The long-awaited (for @sittingoverheredreaming, at least) Part 4 of this commissioned series! Group post here, if you need to catch up. If you like it, drop Sam a thanks for commissioning me, or give a comment or reblog - we authors thrive on feedback! Hope y’all enjoy.
The next hour passed in such a daze of quick events that Michiru scarcely recalled them even as they occurred, one moment bleeding into the next like inexpertly applied watercolors, mingling until the entire canvas was muddied beyond recognition of what it once was, what it should have been. There were doctors in and out of the room, she recalled, and she knew that she had signed several documents with a shaking hand, her signature remaining as delicate and ornamental as it had ever been, still a perfect piece of artistry even as the canvas of her world rended itself into scraps of confetti.
Haruka never left her vision again, staring at her intensely with those green eyes that she knew couldn’t be real but somehow had never felt more alive, the lips that she knew could not be there, and yet she could feel when they brushed against her head, her hand, her cheek. The pain as her wounds knitted back into place was nothing compared to the searing agony in her chest, each beat of her traitorously living heart a reminder that she had ruined everything to save Haruka, to save the woman that she loved, and she had not even succeeded in that effort.
Once she was settled at home the others left her room, Rei doing so only after instructing her gently to get some sleep. Hotaru offered to stay and provide healing, but Michiru asked to have some time alone - except she wasn’t really alone, Haruka was sitting on the bottom of the bed - and Hotaru did not push further. The heavy wooden door shut and Michiru turned to the phantom of her lover, not wanting to say the words aloud but knowing that she needed to in order for them to become true.
“You are not really here. My Haruka is dead.” The sentence came out in a whisper that turned into a strangled, choking sob, her weakness on full display as tears ran openly down her face, dotting the hospital gown she still wore with markers of her own incompetence.
Haruka - not Haruka, she corrected internally, some manifestation of my own subconscious - shrugged in that same casual way she had a thousand times, her shoulders lifting slightly before relaxing again. “I’m as here as you want me to be, Michi.” She flipped herself onto her knees and crawled closer, and Michiru could swear that she felt weight and heat from where Haruka’s body covered her own. “I’m as real as you need me to be.” She kissed her again, less gently this time, a hand winding through Michiru’s hair in a familiar caress.
“This isn’t real,” Michiru whispered between kisses, shaking her head.
Haruka smirked devilishly, her free hand wandering downwards, Michiru gasping softly. “I’ll make it feel real.” Michiru bit her lip, knowing that the touches weren’t really happening but unable to deny their effect on her regardless. “Does this feel real to you?” She let out a soft whimper under the familiar caresses, Haruka’s practiced hands knowing exactly what she wanted.
Haruka drew back suddenly, ceasing her touches, and Michiru nearly groaned with frustration. “Do you want me to go away, Michi? Just tell me to leave, and I’m not real any more.” The sparkle in her eyes and the growing, almost predatory smile on her face indicated that she already knew the response, and as Michiru leaned forward to press her lips against her lover’s, she tasted of apples.
--
At the Shrine across town, Mercury pored over her handheld computer and studied the flashing symbols on the screen with ferocity. The knowledge of how to unlock the hidden data from the days of the Silver Millenium had been gifted to her when she remembered the ancient, long-dead language that had been used then, its characters foreign to all living eyes but hers now. She smiled at the thought that she was the last person with such knowledge, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
“How are we progressing, Mercury?”
Mercury jumped internally as the cool voice washed over her like a wave, whipping around and falling to a knee as instinctively as she breathed, the motion just as effortless and necessary. “My Queen,” she responded, the air in front of her lips fogging just slightly, her element showing itself more in the presence of its mistress. Her eyes stared at the hem of the white gown in front of her, everything else in the room dim and dull by comparison of its pearlescent shine.
“‘Princess’; I am not Queen as of yet,” she corrected, and Mercury felt a trickle of sweat freeze to the skin on her back, icing over. “Stand, Mercury, and give me a report.” A pause - then, as an afterthought: “Please.” The last word sounded out of place with the others, a switch from her natural cadence to an attempt to pronounce a concept from a newly-learned foreign language. Mercury stood and raised her eyes to the face of her ruler, though never high enough to make eye contact, her gaze resting on the flawless porcelain cheekbones.
“Princess,” Mercury forced out with mild effort, which she endured because she could not fathom the thought of disobedience, “As you are aware, Jupiter expended her energies greatly during the battle. She was left in a comatose state. You chose to revive me -” revive seemed the wrong word somehow; she had never been dead, just slumbering beneath the surface of a weak-willed teenage girl, one whose favor of kindness over science disgusted her - “two days ago, and have been resting your energies since then.”
Her gaze drifted past Serenity to the bed behind her where Jupiter lay, Sleeping Beauty tucked between Rei’s anime-themed sheets, still and unresponsive as a fairytale illustration. “There has been no change in Jupiter’s status. I remain unable to wake her, and it is only through your daily energy sharing that she continues to exist in this state.” The knowledge of her failure hung greatly over her head, and she resisted the urge to drop to her knees and beg forgiveness, if only because her Princess would not stand groveling from her soldiers.
“Scan me. I would know the probability of a successful revival at my current energy levels.” Mercury nodded and took a step backwards, raising the computer and tapping a few buttons to bring up the proper display. Data scrolled across her visor and screen simultaneously as she allowed the computer to work, a few moments of silence passing as the calculations were completed.
“The probability of success at this time would be approximately 86.83%, Princess. There is a 8.49% chance that she would improve slightly but not wake; a 3.14% chance that no change would occur, and a 1.54% chance that you would extend your own energies too greatly and damage yourself. Given these values, I believe that you could safely awaken her at this time.”
The Princess-Queen glanced over at Jupiter in the bed, still and fragile and somehow looking so small, despite being taller than either of the other women. Serenity nodded sharply. “Very well, Mercury. Your diligence is noted and appreciated.” She frowned even as Mercury bent at the waist slightly, a thanks for the compliment that her body performed naturally. “Will I need to recharge so long before waking Uranus? And what of Pluto?”
Mercury shook her head lightly, ice-blue hair sweeping out of her eyes. “No, my Q- Princess,” she corrected hastily, “your powers were much more significantly depleted from your own transformation, eliminating the opposing army, and purifying myself. Awakening Jupiter will use a large amount of your energy, but it should recharge significantly faster. I estimate that you will be able to revive Uranus within 24 hours.”
Serenity’s rose-petal lips curled into a tiny smile, so minute and controlled that a less observant party could have assumed it was a trick of the lighting; but Mercury was nothing if not an efficient tool for data intake, and so she catalogued the discrepancy as she continued to speak. “Pluto’s body has yet to be discovered. As the area has been thoroughly canvassed, my current theory is that she dematerialized and was instantly reincarnated at the Time Gate, as is typical of her position. We do not currently possess a means of reaching the Time Gate to confirm this hypothesis. My recommendation is to classify Pluto as a lost asset.”
The rose of Serenity’s lips wilted, and the thorns of her perfectly white teeth poked out from underneath the small curl of disgust. “That is...disappointing, indeed.” Pluto had been one of the stronger defensive Senshi, and Mercury knew that from a tactical standpoint the loss of her power was not insignificant. “Still,” Serenity continued, taking small, gliding steps towards the bed where Jupiter lay. “We will have the rest back soon. Beginning with her.”
She stopped at the bedside, pale hand reaching out somewhat tenderly to brush back the bangs from Jupiter’s forehead. Serenity’s eyes, as blue and as cold as the most rare of sapphires, closed as she touched a single finger to the center of the prone woman’s forehead. The golden moon on her face began to glow, its aura traveling downwards over her unearthly pale skin from her neck, to her arm, to that extended finger, and finally onto Jupiter before disappearing into her forehead. Serenity’s brow creased slightly as the light increased in strength, crescendoing until there was a single bright flash of white light that forced Mercury’s eyes to squint shut, unable to withstand the intensity.
When she reopened her eyes, Serenity looked slightly less radiant than she had a few moments prior - her sapphire eyes were fogged over as though in need of a polish, and the subtle sparkle that her skin always seemed to hold now was emphasized by the light layer of sweat that crossed her chest. The woman in the bed looked much the same, except that her hair had lightened a few shades, a more medium-brown at the roots fading into a tan shade towards the bottom. Her eyes opened to reveal the other change in Jupiter’s appearance, the bright yellow irises seeming to crackle with electricity.
She sat up quickly, a near-predatory smile on her face as she cracked her neck, then her knuckles, the second causing small sparks to fly from her hands as she did so. Jupiter rose from the bed, steady as though she hadn’t just been in a coma moments ago, and knelt at Serenity’s feet. Mercury knew chastising her for such strain would get nowhere - Jupiter had never been one to listen to reason - and so chose to put her energy into performing a basic vitals scan, just to ensure that all had gone as it should have.
“My Queen,” came Jupiter’s voice, rumbling and sure.
This time, Serenity did not correct the title. “Rise, Jupiter. There is much work to be done if we are to enact Crystal Tokyo.”
Jupiter did as she was commanded, a broad smirk spreading across her face as tiny crackles of electricity danced across her knuckles. “I can’t wait to begin.”
For Fav fic-- I'M TERRIBLE AT REMEMBERING TITLES but your HaruMichi in Europe fic always stood out to me! Seeing how you had them navigate studying abroad was so cute!
OMG thank you!! I had fun writing that one, I might write a sequel idk
(for anyone wondering it’s here on tumblr and ao3 if you wanna read it)
If you’re still taking thanksgiving asks, do you have any hot tips for downsizing thanksgiving meals without totally losing the feel of it, and/or tips for repurposing leftovers?
Yeah! First of all, I’d just make a turkey breast for the turkey, to save on having too many leftovers. Or it doesn’t even have to be a turkey! Roast chicken is another great thing, that I felt certain I had posted a recipe for but apparent have not.
I would identify what are the IMPORTANT parts of a Thanksgiving dinner to you. Some people can take or leave cranberries! Some don’t care about rolls, really. Figure out what makes a thanksgiving plate feel COMPLETE. And just make that! Also, use oven safe bowls and stuff to make smaller amounts of beloved dishes.
AS far as leftovers, I’m a huge giant fan of adapting things to the “turkey pot pie’ model. so like, I’ll throw turkey and green bean casserole into a general chicken pot pie style sauce, with any roasted vegetables we made, and then top it with either mashed potatoes, or stuffing, and bake. Other things: Turkey tacos, mashed potato cakes, turkey noodle soup, sweet potato soup, cranberry poptarts/quickbread/etc, sweet potato bread.
But honestly for my family, we LOVE the thanksgiving leftover sandwich, so if I try to make it into a “real meal” I get my hand slapped a bunch of that time ahahaha.
Usagi was dead, and the battle was over. They had lost. Everything that that had tried to do would be unmade in this world, and the Crystal Kingdom would never rise, and whatever Galaxia intended for this world, if she even knew, would come to pass. It was time to lay down the sword. They were defeated, checkmate, shah mat, goodbye.
Mina pointed out they could negotiate for the protection of the people of Earth, in one way or the other. Michiru offered to be the emissary. She was trained in the art of manipulation and manners, in a way that Mina mostly simply possesed in its raw state, and so if they were going to try this, it would be all the better to proceed with their best possible foot. She would wear one of her outfits befitting Galaxia’s stature. She would curtsy low. She would twist words like gold wire into the filigree that would pretty up the entire situation.
This was the wisest course of action. This was the only thing left to them, to protect the earth. This is what Usagi would have wanted.
But Usagi was dead, and the battle had not yet begun.
Rei had never considered herself a traitor, never considered that the fate of the world lacked importance to her. That was for the turncoats of a moment like Michiru, or cowards like Ami. Rei was loyal. Rei was principled.
Trouble was, all of that was to Usagi, and Usagi was dead.
And so, as Michiru and Mina attempted to broker a peace for the world, Rei sat upon the throne of her own making, and led the rebellion. Mako had followed her, looking for answers that could not be found except that end of her fist, hating the world for taking one more person from her. Hotaru had followed her, waiting for the end of the world, being willing to be the one who brought it. It was what she was meant for, wasn’t it? So let it come. Let her open the door.
Rei was a princess of a world of destruction.
The fire burned hotter in her than it ever had, and it bowed and scraped to the new crown of her rage, melting together the precious metals that had gilded her life as a senshi and making them into a cursed diadem. Friendship. Love. Trust. She bent them to her coal-fired will, destroyed them and made them into new things. Betrayal. Pain. Death.
She had hardly noticed when her stream of hot fire burned Haruka across the face so badly that it would never heal, even with whatever senshi power she possessed. Let her serve as a warning, Rei thought, that no one may stand against me.
Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she could hear a small voice, one that hopped like a tiny rabbit in the moon. Oh, don’t hurt her! It cried. Oh, we love her, Rei. The people are scared, Rei, and Galaxia said she would treat them fairly, if only…
Rei waved it off. She had reclaimed Japan with her band, and so what if this was a battle she could not win. It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees.
She told the rabbit to be quiet, and let the bonfire inside of her roar out her demands.
It didn’t happen very often. All things considered, she had it under remarkable control, and she’d worked very hard to make that true. She should really be grateful--a lot of people who had been through what she’d been through would have bigger problems than having to collect themselves if a burst of cold hit too brisk, or a few nightmares now and again. It was nothing.
Which was cold comfort when she was sweating and shaking in the corner of her room.
“Not again,” she whispered to herself, “It’s not ‘appening again. You’re alright, love. It’s--” she looked back to the clock,”3:43. You went to bed at 11, right? You can’t ‘ave been gone, you’re at the ‘ouse in Canada, where you started,” She took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart, “can’t ‘ave been gone. Doesn’t feel as if you’ve been gone, right? Right. You’d know because it ‘urts, and it doesn’t ‘urt now, so, you can’t have been gone. Safe as anything.”
There was a knock at her door.
“Lena?” His voice rumbled through the door. “I heard you, well, are you okay?”
Tracer nodded to herself. “S’all right Win,” she called to the door, “bit of a--just a nightmare, there we are, up she goes.”
She pulled herself to her feet, and took her stuffed sloth off the bed as she clipped her CA into place. Felt better to have it on. She shut down the door that held the time lock and opened it. Winston stood there, a worried look on his face and one of the large t-shirts Tracer had made for him softly hanging on his shoulders.
“Sorry to wake you.” She gave a weak smile. “Bit of a barney with meself, which is the worst kind of all, innit?” she chuckled. “Sorry.”
Winston could not stop himself, and reached out for her, his hand enveloping her entire shoulder and part of her back. He squeezed it gently, and Tracer just rubbed her eyes, tired from the come down of adrenaline.
“I’m all right. Promise.”
She was alright, and that could be true, but also it could be true that she might benefit from a bit of comfort. Winston would never let her be gone, not forever. He’d always find her, and he’d proven that twice over, no matter how impossible they said it was. He loved her. She could do with a bit of security, and there was no shame in it.
She laid her cheek on his hand and closed her eyes. “But, if you wouldn’t mind ‘aving a bunkmate.”
“Of course not,” he drew her in an held her tight, “not at all.”
