#tmafemslashweek

[honestlysarcastic]

what the girlfriends? (for @tmafemslashweek​)

[childhoodgrave]

day 1 of @tmafemslashweek : seasonz!! local hot ladies judge u 4 feeling the cold

[arwainian]

[id: a pencil drawing of Melanie and Georgie from The Magnus Archives drawn in greyscale from the shoulders up over a soft pink background. Melanie has pale skin, long straight dark hair, scattered moles on her face and gauze taped over her eyes. Georgie is a black woman with freckles, a round face, and her hair pulled back tightly in a high curly puff. the women lean their foreheads together, both smiling softly. Georgie’s gazes gently at Melanie’s lips. end id]

TMA Femslash Week 2 @tmafemslashweek, Day One (Monday, December 30th): Seasons or First Kiss

/the moment before the first kiss. melanie on the mend and away from the institute, both of them together and safe

[remnantglow]

u KNOW i had to draw melanie/georgie after mag145

[asalesbian]

late entry for @tmafemslashweek 2019.5, in which basira & melanie Talk Some Stuff Out and also, hug.

[ID: a warmly coloured digital drawing of Basira and Melanie hugging. Basira has brown skin and is wearing an orange hijab and a checkered purple coat. Melanie has shoulder-length straight dark brown hair and is wearing a red sweater. Basira’s eyes are closed and she’s smiling slightly, leaning her chin on Melanie’s shoulder as they hug. Melanie’s face is hidden in Basira’s shoulder. The slightly blurred background shows a full bookcase next to them, and a grey wall with a window showing a pink sky behind them. / End ID]

[bisexualkramer]

Something New (Day 5: Wedding/Proposal)

(read on ao3) (for @tmafemslashweek)

 Basira had found herself a nice spot in the corner after dinner, and was eagerly waiting for Melanie and Georgie to get on with dancing already, when Daisy found her.

             “Best seat in the house,” she said, by way of greeting. Basira nodded.

             “I still can’t believe they managed to get The Mechanisms for the wedding band,” Basira grumbled, fuming. “I thought they broke up years ago. Wonder if they’re fans.”

             Daisy glanced at her, confused. “What?”

             Basira nodded towards the musicians, who were slightly hidden behind a huge flower arrangement that had, only an hour earlier, sent Daisy into a sneezing fit that had lasted nearly ten minutes. She’d had to disappear to take her allergy medication, which meant that she definitely wasn’t supposed to be drinking the glass of whiskey she was currently putting to her lips. Basira decided not to press the issue.

             “The Mechanisms,” she said. “I know I made you listen to some of their stuff, back when we got together. They broke up years ago. I never got to see them live. Glad I will now, I guess, if they aren’t just playing covers. I wonder if they were fans of What the Ghost, or Ghost Hunt UK, or something.”

             Daisy was giving her an odd look, the same one that she had given Basira when she, stumblingly, had asked Daisy on their first date, and Daisy had replied that they’d already had four.

             “’Sira,” she said, “can you tell me where Jon is?”

             Basira frowned, then glanced over the sea of friends and relatives that had gathered in the small dining room for the reception. Skimming over their heads, she finally located Martin, engaged in conversation with four older women – aunts, at a guess. “Found him,” she said, and then paused, glancing around Martin’s shoulder-level and not finding any grumpy eldritch horrors hovering around him. “Wait, no,” she said, searching more thoroughly through the throngs of well-wishers and elderly relatives. “Where is he?”

             “Basira,” Daisy started, but Basira wasn’t listening.

             “Shit,” she said. “I can’t find him.”

             “’Sira –”

             “Where is he?”

             “Basira –”

             “If he’s taking a statement on Melanie and Georgie’s wedding night, I’m going to strangle him –”

             “Basira,” said, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of her panic. “Look at the band.”

             “What?” Basira asked, turning her head. “I don’t –”

             She paused. It was impossible. It was horrible. It was too terrible to even consider. But no – there, standing at the microphone, was Jonathan Sims, lead singer of The Mechanisms.

             “Oh, god,” she said, and Daisy snorted.

             “I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

             “All this time, and it was him?”

             “If you were such a big fan, how did you not know the lead singer’s name?”

             “I listened to them in the archives all the time,” Basira said, “and he never said a thing!”

             Daisy offered Basira her whiskey. She drained the rest of it in one go.

             “Oh, look,” Daisy said, gesturing toward the crowd. “Martin’s coming. D’you think he knew?”

             “Do I think he knew that his boyfriend was the lead singer of my favorite band?” Basira hissed.

             Daisy’s smirk did nothing to help Basira’s rising anger. Martin’s kind and open smile, when he arrived, made it worse.

             “Hi,” he said, a bit breathless. “I’ve just escaped. They were asking me if I was married.”

             “What did you tell them?” Daisy asked.

             “Said I was a pouf, then panicked and ran over here. Why?”

             “It’s a gay wedding, Martin,” Daisy said. “I don’t think they’d freak out about that.”

             “Yeah, but I didn’t want them to ask when I was going to propose. Old women freak me out. What’s wrong with Basira?”

             Basira, who had been glaring at Jon for the entirety of Daisy and Martin’s conversation, huffed.

             “She’s upset that Jon is the lead singer of her favorite band and didn’t tell her.”

             “Ah,” he said. He gave Basira an apologetic smile. She pinched his arm. He squealed, but then he laughed and turned back to the band.

             As he did so, Jon stepped up to the microphone.

             “Hello, everyone,” he said, his face a bright red. Martin clapped, and Daisy wolf-whistled. He shot them both a glare. “If I could have your attention,” he said, “it’s time for the first dance.”

             Melanie and Georgie swept towards the center of the floor. Melanie handed her cane to her mother, then allowed herself to be led to the center of the dance floor. When they’d stopped, she bowed deeply to Georgie, pulling off her rather ridiculous top hat and sweeping it in an arc away from her. When she stood, Georgie stole the hat and put it on her own head. The two of them held each other firmly as the music began to play.

             “Really a beautiful wedding,” Daisy muttered.

             “It is, isn’t it,” Martin said, his voice breaking. Basira reached into her pocket and pulled out a tissue.

             “Spectacular,” she said. “Does anyone know where I could get another drink?”

 …

               The middle of the dance floor was hot and loud. Jon and the band had played for about an hour before Georgie had started her “Ultimate Sapphic Wedding Playlist” and grabbed Jon by the waist for a dance. Daisy had wandered off somewhere, leaving Basira and Melanie dancing together in the corner. Melanie had lost her hat and her bow tie, somewhere along the way, and was now sporting Georgie’s veil in addition to the ostentatious blindfold she had insisted on wearing to the wedding.

             “Did you really have to have your first dance to ‘No-Eyed Girl?’” Basira asked.

             Melanie shrugged. “It’s funny,” she shouted over what Basira thought might be a One Direction song. Melanie frowned. “This playlist sort of got away from us, eh?”

             “It’s your first dance.”

             “We had Jon do it all acoustic-y and slow! Isn’t that enough?”

             “I guess,” Basira said. “Fuck, it’s hot in here.”

             “I know,” said Melanie. “I’m thinking of taking the jacket off, but I don’t want to stop dancing.”

             “You look very dashing,” said Basira. “Very dapper.”

             “Thanks,” said Melanie, attempting a sort of modified Charlie Brown that nearly sent her tumbling into one of Georgie’s friends from college. “I wanted to look like one of those vintage lesbians, you know? Didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

             “You literally married a woman today, Melanie.”

             Melanie beamed. “I did, didn’t I? Where is she?”

             Basira craned her neck around an old man who was waving his arms around in a way that was, quite frankly, alarming. “I think she’s – no, wait – yeah, she’s doing the thing from Dirty Dancing.”

             “Aw, bless,” said Melanie. “I demand you take me to her!”

             “Demand?”

             “It’s my wedding, and I’m a bride, so I have the authority.”

             Basira rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said, and gripped Melanie’s arm, pulling her through the throngs of people to get to Georgie. As soon as Georgie noticed their approach, she flung her hands into the air, which was unfortunate, as she had been in the middle of dipping Jon. He landed squarely on his ass with an undignified yelp.

             “Melanie!” Georgie yelled.

             “That’s my wife!” Melanie yelled back, directly into Basira’s ear.

             “I know,” said Basira.

             “I love my wife!” Melanie shouted.

             “I think I got that,” said Basira.

             Basira released Melanie into Georgie’s arm and offered her assistance to Jon. He glared at Georgie.

             “Ow,” he moaned.

             Basira punched him in the arm.

             “Hey!” he shouted. “What the hell was that for?”

             “You didn’t tell me you were the lead singer for the Mechanisms, even though you specifically knew they were my favorite band, you absolute arsing –”

             “All right, all right, I’m sorry!” he said, dodging her subsequent swats. “I thought you knew!”

             “How on Earth would I have known that, Jonathan Sims, you complete –”

             “Hey,” said Martin, appearing at Basira’s shoulder. “Sorry, but can I please borrow my boyfriend? You can have him back if you want to abuse him later.”

             “Oi!”

             Basira sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Go be gross and gay somewhere else.”

             “Speaking of,” said Martin, grabbing Jon’s hand, “I think Daisy’s looking for you.”

             “Oh, thank God,” said Basira as Melanie and Georgie reappeared in her vision, trying to waltz to “Mama” by My Chemical Romance, which had just begun playing, and failing miserably. “I need to talk to someone normal.”

             Martin laughed. “She’s by the bar, I think,” he said, even as Jon began to tug him down and kiss him repeatedly on the cheek.

             Basira glanced at Jon. “You’re gross,” she said. He flipped her the bird.

             Daisy was, in fact, by the bar, having a weird half-conversation with the bartender, a young man who looked like he might be one of Georgie’s cousins. When she spotted Basira, she hopped up from her stool and gave the man a halfhearted salute. He sputtered something as a goodbye before being pulled away by a nice old lady who was wondering if he didn’t have anything stronger than wine, deary, and Basira and Daisy were left to themselves.

             “Our friends are idiots,” said Basira.

             Daisy laughed. “D’you want to dance?”

             “Oh god,” said Basira, but she let herself be pulled back to the dance floor.

 …

               “Last slow song of the night!” Georgie yelled into the abandoned microphone. “And then it’s just ‘Don’t Stop Believing,’ and then you all have to leave so Melanie and I can go and have sex!”

             The few friends and younger family members who remained cheered. Melanie’s grandmother wolf-whistled; Georgie’s cousin at the bar looked incredibly uncomfortable.

             The first few notes of a slow do-wop song began to play. Basira placed one hand on the small of Daisy’s back and pulled her close. Daisy leaned her head against Basira’s chest as the two of them began to sway.

             “I really love you, you know,” Daisy mumbled.

             Basira pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. “I love you, too,” she said. She squeezed Daisy’s hand. “Always will.”

             “I know,” said Daisy. “I keep asking myself how I got so lucky.”

             “Easy,” said Basira. “It was your incredible, incredible ass.”

             Daisy snorted. “Thanks.”

             “I just saw it, and it was like a black hole. I couldn’t escape.”

             “You’re very kind.”

             “I’m serious. I thought, ‘Oh my God, she’s got such a good ass. I can’t believe I’m going to sleep with her.’ And then I did.”

             Daisy pulled back and fixed Basira with a skeptical glare. Basira winked. Daisy pulled her down for a kiss. Her lips were soft and a bit dry, same as they always were, and she tasted of whiskey and wedding cake. When they parted, Daisy stroked her cheek.

             “Not to mention,” said Basira, “you’ve got abs for days.”

             “Sap,” said Daisy.

             “Yeah,” said Basira. She pulled Daisy back to her chest, and the two of them swayed together to the music. “Yeah, I reckon I am.”

[kellanswritingblog]

Day 2 of @tmafemslashweek!  The prompt I chose was fairytale, so I went with aromantic Daisy as the cursed princess, trapped in a tower, until Knight Basira is able to help her realize that romantic love isn’t the only way to break the spell. 

Something Like Hope

Daisy had heard the sounds of combat from the many floors below her, and now the door burst open to reveal a heavily armored knight.  Ash coated their sword and their armor was dented from the fighting.  So many traps and mystical warriors lined the halls of Daisy’s prison, partially to make sure only the worthy were able to enter.

But mostly to make sure that the beast within never got out.

“Princess,” the knight said as they knelt just inside the threshold, removing their helmet.  “My name is Basira Hussain, and I have come to rescue you.”

“You did very well,” Daisy admitted with a forced smile.  She hated this part.  “But I’m afraid you made the trip in vain.  I cannot be saved.”

The knight hesitated, then warily stood and cast her eyes around the room, brows creased in confusion.  “I don’t understand.”

“Surely you know of the curse upon me.  Each night I am to turn into a beast, a monster, intent on hunting and killing all it can find, until I find true love.”

Daisy watched as Basira’s eyes hovered on the heavy chains affixed to one side of the room.  That area was barren save for the restraints Daisy used on herself each sunset, to keep the beast inside of her from wreaking excess havoc, while across the room was a desk, chairs, a bed; the accoutrements of a normal life.

“But why do you say you can’t be saved?”

“I don’t love,” Daisy stated flatly.  “Not the way these curses are written.”

Basira cocked her head to the side as she continued to not understand, and Daisy continued.  “All these spells speak of romance, of a love I don’t experience.  I’ve never-”  She paused and interrupted herself.  “I’m sorry.  Do you want to come in?  Take a seat.  I can get you something to drink.  You must be exhausted.  I know the trials below are exceptionally difficult.”

“I appreciate it.”  Basira sat as delicately as was possible in full plate armor and accepted the cup of water Daisy handed to her.  Daisy felt her eyes linger on the thick scars that lined her wrists from where the chains had marred her skin.  “I’m afraid I still don’t understand, though.”

“If I don’t love in the romantic sense, the curse can never be broken.  I am to remain a beast.  The safest place for me is here.  I’m sorry you came all this way, fought through each test just for me to send you away, but it’s the safest thing.  Other knights have come, seeking to be the lover I needed to break the curse, but it’s not something I can give.”

Basira took a long sip of water.  “Why are you here?  If others have made it through the trials?”

“Because it’s not safe for me to be outside of these walls.  I won’t hurt anyone.  Not again.  And the curse cannot be broken.  So, I was placed back here.”

“Listen, Princess, with all due respect: I didn’t come here because I expected you to love me,” Basira admitted.  “I came because you don’t deserve to be locked up here.  You’re not a beast.  And regardless,” she added hastily as Daisy attempted to cut her off, “there’s no way you can find love within these four walls.  I get romance isn’t a thing for you, and there's nothing wrong with that.  But you can love other things, and people, just not in the romantic sense.  And you definitely aren’t going to find out if you stay cooped up here.”

Daisy bit her lip and paced along a well-worn track of floor.  “I don’t want to put anyone at risk.  I understand what you’re saying, but the monster I become at night… I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“We can figure that out.  Hopefully without chains.”  Basira stood and held out a hand to the princess.  “Come with me.  We’ll find a way to break the curse, even without romantic love.”

Daisy eyed this stranger, unsure of what to do.  She could still taste the blood on her lips from the last time she’d escaped the tower at night…

But Basira was right.  Whatever the type of love, she would never find it atop a tower.  If there was a way to break the curse, she had to leave to find it.

Hand in hand, they climbed the steps of the tower and exited through the battle-torn remnants of the mechanisms meant to protect the Princess and protect her surroundings from the Beast.

The first few weeks were tough.  Daisy took to restraining herself with chains again in the basement of Basira’s home to keep herself from hurting anyone, from slaughtering the entire village.  Eventually, they found some sturdy enough building supplies and shore up the stone and the wooden door so that Daisy could roam free in the small space without the metal cutting into her like it had so many times before.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was something.

During the day, Daisy finally had the freedom to do what she wanted, even though she had no idea what that was.  She tried everything she could, carpentry, farming, magic, anything.  As a knight, Basira taught Daisy how to fight, how to protect herself without relying on the monster inside her.  Even though Daisy didn’t plan to stay with Basira for long, she couldn’t bring herself to find a new home, not even when she knew there were more opportunities out there, more things to try and explore.

One afternoon, as she watched Basira sharpen her sword – an old thing, passed down through her family for generations – Daisy finally realized why.  Basira had saved her, in more ways than one.  That tower was a prison, and now, after so many years of wallowing in the future the curse had set out for her, Daisy had the chance to be free.

And it was because of Basira.

If that wasn’t a kind of love, she didn’t know what it was.  It didn’t feel like the storybooks, but she knew that she wouldn’t leave Basira, she couldn’t, and she would never want to.

In an instant, a pale shimmer passed over her skin and her veins pulsed with the opposite of the fury she felt when the Beast overtook her, something calm, something like hope.

“Daisy!”  Basira cried, charging across the room as she noticed the visible change in her appearance.

And then, as quickly as the shimmer came, it left again, but the feeling of hope remained.  Daisy met Basira’s worried gaze and smiled.

“The curse is broken.”

“What?  That’s what that was?”

Daisy nodded, and Basira beamed.

“That’s amazing!  I’m so happy for you!”  Basira engulfed Daisy in an embrace that she eagerly reciprocated.

Crying into Basira’s shoulder and holding her tight, Daisy murmured, “It’s because of you.  I love you, in my own way.”

When they broke apart, clinging to each other’s hands, Basira was still smiling and her chest shuddered.

“I love you too.  I don’t know in what way, and I don’t know if it matters, but I do.”

Daisy smiled.  “I guess love really was out here, for both of us.  In our own way.”

[anathemadevisearchive]

radiant warmth

PAIRING: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, What the Girlfriends. WARNINGS: none. SUMMARY: What the Girlfriends have a soft first kiss, as per the prompt for the TMA Femslash week (2019.5)! The Admiral is there. AO3 LINK.

day 1, written for @tmafemslashweek

Sometimes, she could forget the double-edged sword of not feeling fear, but other times, where fear should be, Georgie could feel the hole. She'd be the first to admit, at first she spent far too long trying to work out where fear ended and other emotions began. When did fear become concern? Emotions normally lined with fear felt different, and she spent time thinking about that, too.

There was something, though, when her mind drifted back to Melanie (and her mind drifted back to Melanie a lot...). She didn't like what was happening, how she was feeling, the lack of control she had over herself. Georgie set her keys down in the bowl, glancing into the dark living room, though she can hear the gentle chatter of Melanie sweet talking The Admiral. Jon isn't there anymore, but the image of him, eyes frantic and full of something he couldn't quite explain, tired and out of control on her sofa was still there when she blinked. Fear, or lack of it, aside, she didn't want Melanie to feel that helpless.

"Traitor." There's no malice in her tone as Georgie shuffled her coat off her arms and stepped past the living room, into the warm light of the kitchen. Melanie looked up, but the Admiral kept his attention on making sure Melanie's hand continued to scratch behind his ears.

"Who?"

"Both of you, actually!" With her coat off and slipped onto the back of the nearest chair, Georgie rolled her eyes at Melanie, leaning in to press a kiss to the Admiral's head, then turning only slightly to press a kiss to Melanie's cheek.

Melanie stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped scratching the Admiral's ears. The only thing she didn't stop doing was think. Her mind was racing, though she knew it shouldn't be. Casual affection was easy with Georgie, and hardly unexpected. Why was she caught so off-guard today? Maybe it was because Georgie had frozen, too. She'd pulled away, but not far enough for their personal space to be their own again, warm brown eyes combing Melanie's expression. Something about this had stepped over a boundary, despite its seemingly unintrusive manner.

Before either of the women could address it, though, the Admiral slipped his face between them, purring loudly. Georgie laughed and Melanie relaxed, though Melanie wondered if there was something lost. The moment passed them by and they slipped into the familiar conversation that came with their evenings.

The tense moment hadn't escaped their thoughts, but it had settled further back in Georgie's mind than Melanie's. They ate, they picked the movie for the evening (ignored in favour of a heated discussion about microphones), they decided that Melanie shouldn't make her way home now, it's far too late (though the last Tube didn't leave for hours).

"I could pass out right here, right now." Melanie had been having some trouble sleeping, which was to be expected, and Georgie was just glad that she was comfortable, even if she didn't fully believe her.

"You'll have to fight the Admiral for his spot." He seemed to emphasise Georgie's words by leaping up onto the sofa, padding onto Melanie's stomach and settling down immediately.

"I can take him." Melanie almost had laughter in her voice.

"Oh, yeah? And what if I were to try?" Georgie shifted from her spot on the floor, gently resting her knee on the sofa cushion, just beside Melanie's waist.

"Try what?" Her words were a little heavier now, a sudden awareness of Georgie's casual touch. Was the air suddenly thicker with that awareness? Or was it the fact that Georgie was squeezing herself next to Melanie, the two all but wrapped around each other, and their faces closer than before.

"I was going to say something about taking your spot..." Hearing Georgie's voice so quiet was thrilling, but mostly Melanie just wanted her to finish her thought. "But I want to try something else, now."

Melanie's eyes were closed before Georgie's lips met hers, soft and a little more intense than Melanie had been thinking they would be. Or maybe the intensity was coming from her, leaning up to meet her. It didn't matter: the daydreams of kissing Georgie had turned into reality and she wasn't pulling away from her. First, Melanie smiled, and Georgie felt the curve of her lips. Then, Melanie started laughing, and the tension, all the tension she'd been feeling that evening, slipped off her shoulders and she fell back into the sofa cushions.

"Still comfy?" When Melanie opened her eyes, she saw that Georgie hadn't yet, though there was a curve to her lips. Melanie hooked her arm over Georgie's waist, pulling her a little closer.

"Enough to pass out, right here, right now."

The Admiral purred loudly on her stomach, making a point.