#[And since both are rare diseases that are basically death maybe knowing one would help with HIS.]

[ofstarsandskies]

@iniquitousideals || A Starter from Nii-san cause I had an idea

A rather odd day Julius was having. So much research, running around you name it. All for a disease that nobody seemed to know what the hell he was referring to.

Catalyzing and Crystalizing were two different things--different source, different effects, and different ends--but both had one thing in common: no traditional cure. Perhaps if there was hope in curing CACI, curing a Divergence Catalyst wouldn't be some hopeless pipe dream.

"If I may sir, I have an odd question for you," By now Julius asked at least twenty others who looked at him weird. One had to work--eventually. "I've heard there's a very rare side-effect from Cruxis Crystals... something called Chronic Angelus Crystallus Inofficium. I was wondering... Did they ever find a cure for that?"

[beauty-and-passion]

Time to talk about the flower shirt

You read the title. Time to talk about this.

This is the infamous flower shirt Thomas put on in his store and, since the fandom is the fandom, everyone started to speculate about those flowers.

At first, I didn’t want to do it. They’re just flowers and other people already talked about them, so what could I possibly add to the conversation?

But while I was writing about Orange, I had to talk a moment about the orange flower. It was supposed to be a small parenthesis, just a couple of words about that.

But then I looked at the other flowers and what other people told/not told about them and how some didn’t find Patton’s flower... so here I am, adding my two cents to this theme.

You needed it? Probably not. Well, I’m writing it anyway.

So let’s take a closer look at those flowers and see each one in detail:

__________________________________

Roman: Red rose

Should I really explain why it’s perfect for Roman? Red roses are the universal symbol of love. Basically in all cultures red roses symbolize passion, true love, romance and desire. Also, according to this website, even the shade has a meaning! In fact, the deeper the red shade is, the stronger is the passion.

And even the number of red roses has a meaning! In this case, we have only one single red rose and that "represents love at first sight, or if it’s coming from a long-term partner, they are saying “you are still the one”.”

You know what that made me think? About Thomas telling Roman “You’re my hero”. A perfect symbol that he was “still the one” for Thomas.

__________________________________

Orange: Lantana camara

This is an incredibly peculiar flower.

Lantana Camara symbolizes severity and rigour. And this alone can be analyzed in all possible ways, but there are other interesting details about this plant I think it's worth mentioning.

Lantana is toxic for livestock, such as cattle, sheep, horses, dogs and goats. According to Wikipedia, previous studies suggested it could be toxic for humans too, especially the green unripe berries. However "other studies have found evidence which suggests that its fruit poses no risk to humans".

Lantana is a freaking invasive plant. In some areas, it's so predominant, to reduce biodiversity, because its presence "can significantly slow down the regeneration of forests, by preventing the growth of new trees". Also, as if this isn't enough, this plant can also produce toxic chemicals which inhibit other plant species.

Lantana has also a great adaptability, that helped it to be so invasive: it can live in a wide range of different environmental conditions, it can survive long periods without water, heck it's even resistant to fire. It's not a plant you can underestimate. Like Orange, I assume.

But Lantana isn't just an invasive plant. Lantana has always been used for medical purposes, because it showed good antimicrobial, fungicidal and insecticidal properties and its extract helps against respiratory infections and ulcers.

Also, since it doesn't have many pests or diseases, lantana became a common ornamental plant. It even attracts butterflies!

In other words: isn't that the perfect plant to symbolize the double nature of a dark side? It can be a threat, change the environment, destroy and even kill. But it can also be a medicine, something useful, something beautiful.

Whoever Orange is, Lantana camara tells us that, whithout a doubt, he’s a dark side.

__________________________________

Janus: Sunflower

Do you think Janus isn't perfect enough as he is? Do you think there's not enough husband material in the snek?

Well, you’re wrong and the sunflower is here to prove it.

Sunflower symbolizes loyalty, adoration, longevity, vitality, worship. Now add this up to the sunflower’s behaviour and how it follows the sun... and you’ll get Janus. Janus literally acts like a sunflower: Thomas is his sun and everything Janus does is for him. His whole existence is centered around Thomas.

But we already knew that, because it's the same message that shone through his playlist. Everything about Janus tells us how much he adores Thomas, from his canonical behavior in the series, to his playlist, to this flower.

Oh, do you need another proof that this is flower is perfect for Janus? Some societies use sunflowers as religious symbols. Ah, some good ol' reference to religion: it’s like being in his playlist all over again.

And, of course, sunflowers are used for a variety of reasons, like cooking oils, skin care and so on. Even the flower says self care.

This man is perfect.

__________________________________

Remus: Green chrysanthemum

Here's another interesting flower.

Chrysanthemum symbolizes death and it’s the typical flower used for funerals. And I thought this was its universal meaning. It was perfect for Remus just like that.

But then I found out that Europeans use chrysanthemums for funerals and to honor the dead. This flower actually has a whole lot of meanings, some completely different from this.

In China, for example, chrysanthemums are associated with wealth, prosperity and long life. Also they're symbols of new life and reincarnations, so they're the perfect gift for old people or newborns.

While in Japan chrysanthemums are symbols of power and royalty. And that's even more fitting for Remus, because he's a Duke, so he is royalty.

But chrysanthemum also symbolizes friendship - and not just "a friendship", but a meaningful one. It's a symbol of loyalty, devotion, romantic/platonic love and, in general, positive energy. It's a flower with an incredibly strong meaning, so it can't be given too lightly.

And this makes it even more perfect for Remus. It's a flower with a huge plurality of meanings, it's both associated with life and death, it's powerful and it's royalty.

Also, you can eat it. Isn't that the perfect Remus flower?

(On a side note: please notice how chrysanthemums and sunflowers are both associated with joy, loyalty and devotion. I would have never considered "joy" a common trait between Janus and Remus while loyalty and devotion... well, they both care about Thomas and his career and they both work for him despite not being accepted, so I can see why those are common traits.)

__________________________________

Patton: Nemophila

Surprise surprise, this flower wasn't easy to find. I’ve never heard of it, so I had to search among endless lists of blue flowers, hoping to find one that would perfectly match the one on the shirt.

And that’s how I found nemophila.

First of all: nemophila is also known as "Baby Blue Eyes" and it's an extremely rare color to find in nature. It’s very famous in Japan, thanks to the Hitachi Seaside Park. Open this link: it’s a literal sea of blue and it’s absolutely gorgeous. Of course, it attracts people every year.

Nemophila represents prosperity, congratulations on success and victory. Not the first things you would associate with Patton, right?

Well, while I was searching more informations about this flower, I found out this website about the essence of Baby Blue Eyes and the passage I quoted down below has the exact same words you can find on that link:

With its pronounced affinity for water, the Baby Blue Eyes flower essences addresses qualities of tender sensitivity, innocence and trust associated one’s early childhood relationship to the father, or other significant masculine figures that are in some way disturbed.

Very often the father was absent, or there was a lack of support or genuine presence. The Baby Blue Eyes type attempts over time to cover this wound of vulnerability with a false “hardening,” such as emotional distancing, mistrust, cynicism or spiritual alienation. It is a flower that can be equally helpful for men or women, although it is especially needed for many men who struggle to become strong, by disowning their pain.

So nemophilia’s essence has qualities associated with childhood, to the father figure and attempts to “repress” and hide emotions.

That’s Patton. That’s him, period. The childhood-related emotions, that are linked to Patton’s longing for “a simpler time”. The mentions of a father figure - who migh be absent or showing lack of support (like, idk, suggesting you should die so your friends live?). And the attempt to “cover the vulnerability” doesn’t remind you anything? Like the Nostalgia episodes?

This flower is Patton.

__________________________________

Logan: Blue petunia

I would like to say, from the bottom of my heart, a huge "FUCK YOU" to this flower, because I spent TWO DAYS searching all the blue flowers in the world and all possible variants, asking myself why this goddamn flower looked so familiar and why it was so hard to find. Blue isn't even a common color in nature, so why couldn't I find it?

I've learned more about blue flowers in these two days than in my entire life. I've searched among flowers I never saw before, like glandora diffusa, leschenaultia and omphalodes verna. I was so desperate to consider this flower a new species, with the petals of a bellflower and the corolla of a morning glory. I even found a goddamn chinese variant of the morning glory that was somehow similar but not that much and why, WHY this was so hard to find?!

And then, after two days and a lot more desperation, I remembered: my dear friend @reptilianwithscallions​ told me about a post they made, regarding this shirt and the flowers. Maybe they had some idea about Logan's flower?

Well, let's all thank my saviour and this post, because otherwise I would've kept searching until the end of my days.

Long story short, Logan's flower is a fucking blue petunia.

And it's a very peculiar choice, because petunias have multiple meanings, several of which can be contradictory.

In general, petunia symbolizes anger and resentment. It reminds someone that you're still angry or disappointed by their actions and you haven’t gotten over the things that caused these feelings.

Oh my, I didn't know we were back in Logan's playlist. It's basically what he kept expressing towards Thomas with his songs: that he was angry at Thomas for his decision, that he doesn't approve that Thomas hasn't "a real job" and so on. Petunia is a flower that screams passive-aggressive, so it's perfect for Logan.

But petunia's meaning deeply changes, depending on the color of the flower. And while petunia in general symbolizes anger, a blue petunia is a symbol of peacefulness, intimacy and deep trust, shared between two or more people. It's so wholesome, because the deep trust reminds me - again - of Logan's playlist and how it ended: no matter what, he and Thomas are always best friends.

Also, petunia flowers have even a secret meaning behind. Since they’re also gifted to new neighbors or to people who have just moved into a new home, they represent a perfect welcome and a way to express affection and kindness to others.

You’re lucky to be so wholesome, you tricky flower.

__________________________________

Virgil: Perennial Geranium

Geranium is a confused flower.

Some of the other flowers have conflicted meanings, but not as much as this flower. These are the most common meanings I found:

Folly or Stupidity

Gentility and kind nature

Clever minds

Ingenuity

Melancholy

Perfect gift for a bride

You can gift it to someone with whom you have planned a meeting 

You can gift it to someone with whom you haven't planned a meeting, just to make them feel welcomed

True Friendship

See? It’s confused.

Aside from jokes, this variety of meanings is due to its great diffusion: since geraniums grow everywhere, every culture gave them a different meaning. And sometimes these meanings depend on the situation too.

Awww, isn't it perfect for Virgil? He can be good and bad at the same time. Anxiety can be bad for Thomas and detrimental for his life, but it can also be the alarm Thomas needs. It depends on the situation.

And, just like geraniums in general symbolize positive emotions, happiness and friendship, so Virgil is in general a good guy. All he does is for Thomas' wellbeing, not against him.

And this is confirmed by the vast use of geranium's essential oil. It's one of the most popular and it has a ton of properties: anti-viral, anti-bacterial, anti-inflammatory, anti-depressant, decongestant, relaxing and so on. Just like our Virge boy can be incredibly useful under the right circumstances. (Did someone say "Flirting with social Anxiety"?)

Also, geraniums are simple, humble flowers that usually grow outside, but then we take them and make them part of our homes. Once again, it’s Virgil: he's an outsider, he's humble, he talks bad about himself - but Thomas and the others took him and made him part of the famILY anyway.

__________________________________

Thomas: Cherry blossom

I searched this flower everywhere and the only one that looks like the one on the shirt is the cherry blossom. Why did Thomas make a cherry blossom with eight petals, when they all have five? I have no idea. Is this a different flower, maybe? Maybe, but I’m done: I've looked at enough flowers and I don’t have any strength left.

As you probably already know, cherry blossoms are extremely important in Japan. They're beautiful, they're everywhere and they're meaningful.

Why? Because cherry blossoms are considered the perfect metaphor for human existence. When they blossom it's a pink ocean, a party, people go to admire them - but they’re short lived, because in two weeks, the blossoms start to fall. It's just like human life: a small, rich, glorious parenthesis in the void. Something little and precious that ends soon.

But cherry blossoms also symbolize rebirth, optimism, hopes and dreams. When they bloom, it means springtime is coming and spring has always been associated with renewal.

That’s a very good choice for character Thomas. He’s basically a cherry blossom, the whole series is: something that reminds us how beautiful life is, how multi-faceted, how important. Just like Thomas' single being encompasses seven different sides of himself, so life presents a wide range of choices, of aspects, of flavours. All beautiful, all worthy of appreciation, no matter how different they can be from you and your experience.

And this becomes even more important, in relation to the passage of time and the transience of life. Because life is short and, after that, there won't be any more time to appreciate anything.

In addition to that, I would like to point out how the theme of passage of time is something we already saw in the series. And not just one time, but several. Since the first season, we have episodes all around the concept of growing up, growing old, not being a child anymore, becoming an adult. And the last Aside keeps going in this direction. It's clear this is a big theme and its connection with the cherry blossoms proves it.

But why is the flower so different on the shirt? Because Thomas wanted to mess up with us? Probably. Almost certainly. Once again, thank you Mr. Sanders for making me question everything.

The floor is (figuratively) yours now: if you have any other information, thoughts or opinions, feel free to share them.

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@willpowerwisps @royalprinceroman @reesiereads @mudpuddlenl @shelby-711 @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @sweetkirbi @whatishappeningrightnow  @effortiswhatmatters  @atlasistryingherbest @bella-in-a-bag  @doydoune  @miasheer  @forever-third-wheeling @mishanthropist  @corndot @payte @mcang3l  @geekyapollokid  @kawaiipotatuh  @hypnossanders  @idontreallyknow24  @imcrushedbyarainbow  @simplyapannightmare  @patton-cake

@riseofthewerewolf @frog-candy-bee @bosspotato01  @rosesandlove44 @methaley @sololad  @firey-alex  @sashootkahoot​ @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan  @croftergamer​ @misty-the-girlflux-mess​  @thedevilseyes​  @arya-skywalker​  @csi-baker-street-babes​ @queen-of-all-things-snuggly

@virgildarknessdementiaravenway​ @mishanthropist​  @dracayd-universe​  @unknown-artworks​   @lonelyfangirl453​  @starlightnyx​ @alienvamp-hesitantflowerface​ @stubbornness-and-spite​  @alittletoo-extra​ @averykedavra  @iloveeverytjing123 @bookedforevermore @joyrose-fandomer @anachronismes @the-cloud-14  @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing

@thatoneloudowl​  @grayson-22​  @softangryfuckingdepressed​ @theotherella​  @boopypasta​ @nevenastark​ @varthandi @floofyconfusednerd @nothing-worth-mentioning @mikalya12 @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside  @coldbookworm  @orchidstanslogan  @snixxxsmythe  @frog-candy-bee  @holleratyour-buoyancy @alexowlndra  @fadingbagelbananapatrol  @our-bloody-mari666  @cxsmospooks @we-need-more-empathy  @riverraysong

[annmarcus63]

GIVE US TO HIM

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Warning: this might hurt a little

on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/34157128

Grandma said once that to give away your raw score is forbidden.

"Your heart in it's full rawness, chaos, is a precious and dangerous thing. Never you should do something as giving it to someone else."

"But our ancestors used to do it. Look ma ¡look!" said Jaskier holding his story book on the air for grandma's tired eyes to see. A handsome knight was lying on the dry grass, dying from a wound on his stomach. He started calling for his love, an ancient fae with blond hair and fair skin. She fell upon the prairie from the charged clouds, with something shiny between her hands. The fae feed the wound with her raw core, her heart. The knight lived along side her, flying amongst the starry night, happily ever after. "This are just stories, Julian" said Grandma with contened anger in her dry voice. She took the book and close it on her thighs "Things were rarely like that. Knights and kings are more inclined to use our cores against us and other people. We can't recover from that loss" Julian look at the drawing on the coverbook, the fae was kneeled by a pond and the knight stood glorious in practically all the cover, leaving a very small space for the real hero, the one who save the life of the protagonist.

"Never give your raw core away. Stop reading these, THEY wrote this, Julian, you must be clever than her" said Grandma pointing at the beautiful fae. Julian nod, undesrtanding much more that he wanted to, and so little, so so little. Maybe that was the reason his family were hiding, they never express it in a literal way, that was the point really, but Julian notice anyway. The way, for example, of how they said their names and the rust taste that was left on the air after. It was common to hide their real names for fae, but you'd give that name knowing it's false, on the opposite when you say the false name thinking is the real one then another fae would know. Losing the self was something of a disease between the fae. Jaskier later knew that his parents have not choice but to lose themselves to save the lineage. Most fae really. Humans did that. Like they did to the elfes. Julian promise to never forget about the fae from his last storybook. He'll never forget about her sacrifice and the sacrifice of his people. But come on, after some years it was just naturally that, despite the wound on the history, a selfish creature he was and he forgot. He was raised as human, and he wanted to be a bard oh how he want it. And he did accomplish that, and a bloody good one that's for sure. Fae were extinct for all the world and that wasn't a cover, they're doomed to extinction sooner or later. It has been years since the last time Jaskier felt another fae being born. He is Jaskier troubadour, master of the seven liberal arts a mastermind amongst the crowds, a legend…an idiot most of the time basically.

What grandma failed to mention is that for a fae to be able to give their core away the recipient must be worthy at the eyes of the fae. Once this worthiness makes evident, that person would plant roots in the core itself, whether the fae want it or not. It's inevitable. Grandma should have said "be aware of where you place your heart. Hold it until you're fully sure of them" But well, it wouldn't have matter in the end. Jaskier have never being someone who follows advice, much less from his dead relative. It happened naturally, like breathing, eating and shitting. One moment he was standing next to Geralt under a pouring rain, the witcher kept looking for a missing girl on the edges of the woods, her parents place a bounty on the towns board, they couldn't offer payment in form of crowns but they're willing to let them sleep on the girl’s room. Jaskier became indignant, how a witcher is supposed to take a payless bounty? No, that is unacceptable. But despite the protesting bard and zero reward whatsoever Geralt went anyway, he look for a girl who surelly was already dead.

"I found her body near the cave by the pond. You can go for her by morning when it's safe. I'm sorry" after a minute of silence the parents with equal expression of cold sorrow release a heavy sigh charged with so much grief.

"What did it?" asked the father

"Nekkers. I got rid of the pack living there"

"Thank you, witcher. You and your bard can come in, i'm sure you're exhausted” Said the mother with great effort, like someone who can't breathe quite well.

Geralt rapidly added "No, I'm sure you and your husband need time to resign and mourn alone. My bard and i already had another place to stay" Eh, no they didn't.

"But...we don't have any crowns"

"I didn't do this for payment" And while the parents thanked infinitely to Geralt, Jaskier felt something wild and untamed surging from his chest. Reaching unabashed for the witcher with a big golden heart standing next to him, explaining to a mourning parents that he went to search for their lost daughter because he wanted to help. This new awareness of chaos, he knew what it was.

Chaos, core, raw.

And it had marked Geralt as his. We want him.

Give us to him. He's worthy.

He was doomed, so doomed from the very beginning since they encounter each other on Posada. Grandma tried to warn him of this. Oh grandma, you and i both know that I was never obedient or wise. So Jaskier let it happen, four years after knowing the witcher and his raw core already belong to him. But he didn't do it. He hold back despite the urgency on his chest because he wasn't sure it'll be welcome. Geralt was still trying to get rid of him in every town, sometimes Jaskier felt like a pet you don't want but you can't abandon it either. Surely there'd be a time in the future. And Jaskier wait and fell in love deeply with each passing year. And Geralt...well he was the same and also different in his own way, more at ease around him, softer maybe. Jaskier didn't need to be call a friend to felt like one to Geralt. They're friends, even if one part has being in denial for the past decade.

And then the djinn happened follow by the complicated affair with one Yennefer of Vandenberg. The curse caused the core to retreat afraid and wounded. He hurt us, he wished to hurt us. Jaskier argued with the voice that it wasn't his intention, he didn't even know he was the one with the wishes. In truth his heart shattered not for the wish but for the easiness in which the sorceress become someone important to Geralt, something to hold on to even if drowning. One decade and still Jaskier thinks he haven't reached that relationship level with his friend.

He doesn't want us

No.

"Uhmm?"

"What?"

"You said no"

"Oh, it's nothing" Geralt didn't ask again

But weak and in love he was, the raw core and him reached out again, with fully open arms for Geralt to pull. Jaskier long to belong to him, oh how he did.

Yennefer and her shining imbecile knight join the hunt and he was jealous because as soon as she appear the witcher was drooling as if she was all he needed to shut down the darkness inside.

Don't you know? inside me there's a full light waiting for you to hold

At the softness of the afternoon Jaskier found Geralt sitting on a rock lost, as usual, in though. But this time were different, he had failed three people, Borch's dead has left a wound that surely would scar badly. And the bard felt a deep sadness for his golden heart witcher. He's definitely blaming himself for the fall, for that narrow and insecure path alongside the mountain as if he was the one to build it.

Jaskier asked him to come with him to his home, to the coast, he yearn to be there with him and feel the sea wind on their faces while walking by a cliff near a quiet village that Geralt wouldn't mind to visit.

We want to be his.

Give us to him.

We can love him better.

But Geralt didn't want him, he wanted Yennefer.

He give himself to him anyway.

"Here" said Jaskier putting a hand on Geralt's thigh, surprise, instead of flinching away Geralt held Jaskier's hand and with most carefulness took what was inside the palm. A small glass vial, similar to the ones where he pours his potions. He held it on his gloved open hand. There was something inside, warm and inviting. White, almost yellow that make Geralt felt calm and safe.

"What's this?"

"A gift. It'd take care of you" Geralt frown at him, confused and uncertain of what it meant, but he took it with a barely there smile only for Jaskier to see.

He's a coward, he couldn't confessed him the reality of what it meant because he was terrified of being rejected, grandma said that a rejection is so devastating that it might kill him. And even at this point in their friendship Jaskier couldn't know for sure.

It's me. Take me, i'll protect and save you if needed to. Have me, please have me.

Geralt went that night at Yennefer's tent and Jaskier felt glad for not having told him the truth

"If life could give me a blessing it would be to take you off my hands"

No, no, not now.

They're doing fine.

And then very fast very suddenly Geralt reached for his breast pocket to held the vial of raw core on his fist and toss it unceremoniously to the hard soild.

The noise of shattered glass invaded Jaskier's ears before the heavy blankness surged from his chest to every corner of him.

“No, no, no” said he, giving a fumbling step towards the vial but deciding to turn around instead.

Away away away away.

He can't see me like this.

Something was tearing in fine lines caused by the trembling, an earthquake from his very bones that were fighting on maintaining their solid formation. Something inside was bawling with such and intensity that make his ears bleed.

Was this dying? let it be death for he can no longer take it. Does breathing always hurt this much? like if his lungs were filled with wool and the air only add heaviness on them. What was this? a beating heart, so afraid so betrayed, like a laugh from his ancestors. He wanted to throw up his intestines, they're on fire, but when he tried only saliva flood. He was not himself anymore, and to become whole was an impossibility that the pain was making sure off. Dirt get inside his mouth, his cheek on the ground was getting cut by rocks. A voice calling for him to react, to say something. But he no longer have a voice, he was death itself preparing for a long dream.

I’m sorry grandma.

I'm sorry, said to himself

and he remembered the blond fae on the cover book between grandma's hands, of how she give her life to save her love one, but who'd give their life for her?

who'd give their life for him?

He needed to sleep, right here on the mountain ground, to become whole again or at least half whole.

He begged for death instead.

[minervahopebeyond]

Blood Petals.

You have no idea of how happy I am that I finally got to write this! Let me know what you think!💕

Ps. Sorry if you find any errors (from vocabulary or grammar)

Chapter 16: Slug Club Christmas party (part 1)

The thing that Draco hated the most about everyone knowing, was being treated like a fucking <cite>toddler</cite>.

Because he lied about his condition for months, no one trusted him. They didn’t tell him that, of course.... but Draco hadn’t been alone for not even one second in almost two weeks. He was losing the little patience he had. He even told Weasley last week.

“I’m not a child you know? I can go to the bloody bathroom by myself.” To which his friend only responded.

“Yeah, but since usually you go to bathrooms to cough your lungs out in secret... I prefer to come with.”

Stupid fucking weasel; there was a reason why he did that. The only positive thing was that, since he woke up, he seemed to get the coughs so bloody often that nobody could know who was the person he was in love with. Well, except for Severus and Theo.

His godfather didn’t say a thing, only that he understood why hadn’t he told him sooner. ‘<cite> I’m not justifying your behavior, but I understand why you told Black and Potter. That being said: do not lie to me again, Draco. It’s going to be a problem.’ </cite> The words kept repeating in his head, Severus’s broken voice at the end... The blond boy felt kind of guilty.

With Theodore, it was different. They didn’t talk since he was at the hospital wing and Draco couldn’t help but to miss him a little. He shouldn’t, he knew that, but he felt so at home when he woke up to see the boy.

“Rise and shine, Draco.” The brunette was looking at him with a soft smile. There was something in the air that smelled wonderful... when he looked at the boy’s hand, he saw a little potion vial. He frowned.

“It’s just Amortentia... I read somewhere that the smell could help patients with the flower thing you have.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at that. Theo didn’t like to <cite>read</cite>, if he had read that, then it was because he was looking for an answer...Which meant that the boy still cared. He chose not to point that out, though; the brunette had a tendency to be mean when he felt vulnerable.

“What day is it?” His voice came out rough, his throat was dry.

“It’s Wensday.”

The blond boy widened his eyes, must had been in a comic way because Theo chuckled.

“Don’t say anything about this” The boy said, pointing to the vial before putting it in his pocket. “You weren’t waking up and I couldn’t think of anything else.”

Draco felt so happy, he woke up to a reality where Theo still chose him to keep his secrets. He smiled as he looked at the hazel-eyed boy.

“Your secret is safe with me, Theodore.” Then everyone got in and that was that.

And even though both, Severus and Theo, knew that Draco was in love with Potter, neither of them made a comment about it. It helped him to feel less pathetic.

The coughs were small, he had them more often but they rarely ended up in a coughing fit. Maybe he would cough one or two petals effortlessly and move on with his day. Unless, of course, he saw Potter <cite>pining</cite> after Ginevra.

You know what was sad? That Draco woke up to a worried Potter. When the boy broke all of the bottles at the infirmary, with his magic being all over the place... It gave him hope. He never saw the green-eyed boy so upset and that made him hope for it to <cite>mean something</cite>. It didn’t.

Potter was actually coming to terms with his feelings, so that meant that he kept doing things to make Ginevra smile or (this was Draco’s worst nightmare coming to life) he would talk to <cite> him</cite> about how ‘he didn’t understand’ Thomas and Girl-Weasley’s relationship.

The excuse he had came up with to explain why he coughed all the time,while talking to Potter about Ginevra, was the most basic thing ever. When Draco thought of it, he was hoping that it would be so stupid that ,maybe, it could work.

“Talking about people that are disgustingly in love, makes me think about how unrequited my love is, Potter.” The boy looked at him with pained eyes. The flowers started to move again, this time in a good way. “Stop pitying me. I hate that.” The boy chuckled.

“I know. I just-” The boy sighed as he rested his back against the wall of the hallway. “<cite>Who</cite> wouldn’t want you back?”

The way he said it... so aloof. Like it wasn’t the most precious thing that Draco had heard from his mouth in six years. He blushed, the daffodils were moving like crazy. Then, he remembered, the boy in front of him was like this with everyone, kind, caring, he just loved that much. Right now, Potter and him had this weird kind of friendship going on... For the boy, that meant that he wouldn’t want Draco to feel bad, so he had said something that could make him feel happy.

Draco cleared his throat.

“He is straight.” The blond boy saw the face of the boy fell. Then, he blinked as he frowned.

“But that is not fair! What kind of deal is that??” He was glad to have the habit of casting a muffliato, because Potter was speaking too loudly for his liking.

“It’s a life for a life, Potter. I already told you.”

“Did you ask him?” Draco snorted.

“I don’t need to ask. He only looks, talks and gets crushes on girls.” He pulled his knees to his chest. He hated this conversation, he had it with everyone already. It’s always the same: ‘you should at least try’... Draco didn’t want to try anything, he wanted to keep moping in peace.

“Who is it?” Potter was looking at him, determined eyes on his face. Oh, For Salazar’s sake. Saint Potter already had a plan.

“I’m not telling you. And whatever the fuck you have in mind: it’s not going to work.” The boy crossed his arms over his chest and huffed.

———————

Since the hospital, the golden trio and the slytherins were something that went together. They would meet on the free periods, studied at the library, of even join him and Weasley on Sundays. Draco thought it was amazing.

He was kind of worried about how it looked for his best friends on the public eye, he even told them that. Long story short: Pansy said that if her best friend had a terminal disease, she could pretty much do as she pleased. Blaise, on the other hand, said that his family couldn’t care less about his life at Hogwarts. Draco knew it wasn’t true but with the little time he had... He wasn’t going to complain about it.

They were at the great hall, classes had finished for the day; and there wasn’t anything else to do, but to hang out.

He was talking to Pansy about how much he missed having fun, <cite> real fun</cite>, with the stupid curfew it was impossible for them to sneak out. Then, his best friend widened her eyes in realization, she turned to the rest of the group.

“Golden trio: you are going to Slughorn’s Christmas party, right?”

“<cite>We have names.</cite>” Potter groaned.

“I honestly don’t care. Answer the question.” Then Weasley spoke.

“I’m not invited, this two are going with <cite> their dates</cite>” Weasley’s annoyance was palpable. That was a comment clearly directed at Granger.

“Ronald, you were the one who told me that the club was stupid! You can’t get mad because I invited someone else.” The girl responded.

Potter started to hit his head against the table repeatedly.

“Why did you invite him? I asked you a million times and you still can’t answer. That’s because you made it on purpose.”

“You are impossible when you get like this.” Granger said as she closed the book in front of her harshly.

“Can you NOT fight about this just for one bloody day?” That was Potter, he had stopped hitting his own head to yell at them. Blaise chose that moment to intervene.

“Pans, this is a touchy subject...” He said raising his eyebrows at her. “Was there a point..?”

“Yes, but they started to yell.” The short haired girl said pointing at the them. “Blaise: drum roll please.” His friend started to pound his hands on the table, chuckling. “We are going to sneak out to the Astronomy tower on that night and get extremely pissed. The teachers and Filch would be too busy with the party going on so it’s perfect!!” Then she looked directly at Ron. “And you are coming with us, Weasley. You don’t have an option!”

The redhead’s face seemed to light up at that, he nodded as he smiled brightly at them.

“You could get in serious trouble!” Granger hissed.

“Oh, <cite>Please</cite>. You’ve been sneaking out to do dangerous shit since first year! All involving the Dark Lord or Death eaters one way or another. If they found us, we’ll lose house points and live with it.” Draco said as he made a gesture with his hand, indicating that it didn’t matter.

“I have your favorite firewhisky, Dragon” His best friend pinched his cheeks and he smiled at Blaise.

He could hear the green eyed boy, whispering with the gryffindor girl; arguing. Potter groaned in a dramatic way.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid party, Mione!”

“But you <cite> have </cite> to.” Granger hissed at him.

Why was so important? He couldn’t imagine Potter going to the party to talk about his career options... And the girl’s tone indicated that there was something that they knew and the Slytherins didn’t.

“Who are you going with, Potty?” He asked as aloof as he could. The boy just shrugged.

“Luna. We are going as friends.” Draco nodded. That wasn’t so bad. Luna was beautiful but Potter wasn’t attracted to her, so it would be fine... No possibility of kissing.

“Draco, if you pass out we can call your Prince Charming.” Said Pansy while wiggling her eyebrows. He blushed and reached over to hit her in the head. She should know better than to make that kind of comments in front of the Gryffindors.

“Prince Charming?” Asked Weasley with a smug smile. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Ignore her, weasel. There is no prince.” But Blaise also had said something at the same time as he did.

“She is talking about Nott!”

Potter turned to look at them, frowning. Draco sighed.

“The prat’s lips kissed you and you woke up; I don’t have proof, neither do I have doubts.” He could punch her, she was so annoying when she got like this.

“For the millionth time: <cite> he didn’t do anything, it was just a coincidence</cite>” Then he glared at her. “And stop talking about it, you are going to get him in trouble.” And then it was Blaise’s turn.

“My my, Dragon! Look at you, all worried about the prat.” Draco groaned.

He turn to look at the Gryffindors. Granger was looking at him in a curious way, while Weasley looked thrilled... The only one who was looking like this were the worst news ever was Potter. To be fair, <cite> there wasn’t any news</cite>, Pansy was just being a bitch. Draco was pretty sure that the girl would actually punch him if he kissed Theo... It was clearly just a joke.

Potter looked at Weasley, and pulled a face of disgust as the redhead took out a notebook and a pencil. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“What are you writing?” He asked.

“Private stuff, ferret.” The blond boy rolled his eyes.

“Then maybe write them privately, weasel.”

[tlbodine]

Essential Zombie Media

A thing that’s come up over and over again in early reviews for River of Souls is the sentiment that it’s not-like-other-zombie-stories. And that was certainly my intention. But you don’t get to make a good deconstruction without a healthy knowledge and appreciation of the genre you’re twisting around. 

So here is a list of what I would consider essential zombie media -- whether you want to write a story that plays it straight with the tropes, or one that twists everything around, or you just want something new to watch/read. 

Your own suggestions and ideas are more than welcome in the comments! Please reblog with your own favorite zombie book/movie/TV show/comic, I’d love to discover some I haven’t seen. 

The Origins

The generally agreed-upon first zombie movie is White Zombie (1932), starring Bela Lugosi, but I think it’s safe to skip it on account of both obscurity and some troubling racism. The Haitian-Voodoo zombi mythos and tradition is something best kept separate from our modern ideas of the walking dead. 

Instead, start your journey with George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968), which starts codifying the tropes that persist well into modern media (including, like most modern stories, never using the word ‘zombie’). 

Then compare and contrast with the Richard Matheson novel I Am Legend (1954), which is ostensibly about vampires but I think basically invented the modern zombie genre -- from the post-apocalyptic setting to the spread of undeath by way of disease vectors. 

Follow that up with Dawn of the Dead (1978), where George Romero revisits his Living Dead universe with the help of Dario Argento (if you’re interested, there’s a 2004 remake that’s decent, but unnecessary). And then, just to wrap up the trilogy, skip on ahead to Day of the Dead (1985). 

For extra credit, play the videogame Dead Rising (2006), which draws liberally from Dawn of the Dead and also allows you to beat zombies to death with literally anything you can find in a shopping mall (I can’t speak for the sequels as I’ve never played them). Dead Rising is far from the only game franchise to use zombies (more on that in a bit), but it pays homage directly to the genre in a way that many others don’t. 

The Zombie Renaissance

For a long while, zombies sort of fell out of fashion. Oh, there were some decent takes on the concept, like Re-Animator (1985) and Dead Alive (1992) but by and large zombies in the 1980s and 90s were played for laughs. 

But then they made a great big comeback, stronger maybe than they had ever been before. What happened?

Well, for one, they stayed close to the public conscience thanks to video games. Games and zombies are a perfect fit. Their shambling movement and slow, stupid behavior makes them a great choice for imperfect AI programming. They’re people-shaped, which makes them easy to animate, but they can be gross and deformed and scary, which makes them fun for your art team. And since they’re inhuman and dead, you can kill them in any way you’d like without feeling bad about it. 

Which is probably why zombies have been part-and-parcel of the gaming world since Entombed (1982) was released on the Atari. Doom (1993) was wildly popular, and just a few years later we’d start the Resident Evil franchise, which became both hugely influential as games and films. And lest we forget, Blizzard was giving us undead in Warcraft by the early 2000s, rising to greater prominence by World of Warcraft in its heydey (especially Wrath of the Lich King).  

But I’d argue that the number one single most important ingredient in the horror revival was Danny Boyle’s 2002 film 28 Days Later. 

28 Days Later was huge because it breathed fresh life (pun intended) into a genre that had gone stale. The monsters in 28 Days Later aren’t the walking dead at all -- they’re just people infected with a virus similar to rabies that makes them deadly (compare and contrast with The Crazies, both the 1973 original and 2010 remake, which deals with a similar concept. 

But thanks to being an excellent film with some wonderfully creepy-gross effects, 28 Days Later reignited fearful imaginations. It also introduced the world to the idea of fast zombies as an alternative to the usual shambling monsters. 

A couple years later, zombie content exploded. Aside from the Dawn of the Dead remake in 2004, and some Resident Evil and Doom film interpretations, we got Shaun of the Dead (2004), which is both hilarious and an exceptional zombie film. 

There’s also 28 Weeks Later (2007), a sequel to 28 Days (there is much debate as to which is better, I’m in the Days camp) and Planet Terror (2007), a personal favorite and one of the two films in the special Grindhouse double-feature. I’d also like to shout out Pontypool (2009) and, of course, the horror-comedy Zombieland (2009). 

ZOMBIE MANIA 

Probably nothing has been as influential in drawing zombie discourse into the public as AMC’s hit TV show The Walking Dead (2010), drawing on the graphic novel series of the same name. With a level of gore and violence rarely seen on network TV, a cast of memorable characters and an anyone-can-die narrative, it ignited a zombie fervor greater than anything we’d ever seen. 

The Walking Dead overlapped with a cultural apocalypse zeitgeist. Doomsday prepping started to go mainstream, and people started to plan their own personal zombie apocalypse survival plan. Hell, the CDC adopted zombie apocalypse language as a way to talk about real-world applications of survival knowledge. Zombies and survivalism now go hand-in-hand, for better or worse. 

No discussion of a zombie apocalypse is complete without Max Brooks’ World War Z (2007), which bears little resemblance to the film that shares its name. We should also make a shout-out for his more comedic companion volume, The Zombie Survival Guide (2003), which laid a foundation for what followed. 

For extra credit, play the TellTale Games: The Walking Dead (2012) and compare/contrast with the TV show and graphic novel. Then compare that with Train to Busan (2016), a Korean film that plays some tropes straight while turning others on their heads (it’s also one of my favorite films on this list). 

SYMPATHETIC ZOMBIES 

While the zombie apocalypse narrative took root and captured the imaginations of many, others started to look at things from a different angle. 

What if, they asked, the zombies were the heroes rather than the villains? 

John Ajvide Lindqvist, who you might know for the vampire story Let the Right One In, was ahead of his time with this on: Handling the Undead (2004) is a book that’s simultaneously heartbreaking and deeply unsettling in its portrayal of the dead returning to life and what that might mean to those they’d left behind. Compare and contrast that with the TV show Les Revenants (2004), which deals with a similar premise (there was an American remake, but I can’t speak for it as I didn’t watch it - seriously, just watch the subtitles and enjoy the French show). 

But not every zombie-protagonist story was so heart-wrenching. Look at Isaac Marion’s Warm Bodies (2010), and the film adaptation. There’s also Breathers! A Zombie’s Lament by S.G. Browne that is both hilarious and scathing. 

Follow those up with Diana Rowland’s My Life as a White Trash Zombie (2012) and the comic book/TV show iZombie (2015), both of which feature pale-haired, witty female medical examiners with a taste for brains. 

And finally, a shout-out to The Santa-Clarita Diet (2016), a hilariously dark and over-the-top gross show featuring Drew Barrymore as a zombie trying to get her life back together.

[sketchshitposts]

Hi Cou! 7, 19 and 28?

First and foremost bless ur soul for always sending in asks like no matter what q0q 💖💜

7: my favorite book is probably Unwind by Neal Shusterman!!! I haven't read it In a long time, but the book follows the Alternating POV of three kids who were scheduled to be "Unwound", which is a process your parents/guardians could sign off on (without your consent) which would see that your entire body is basically disassembled to help others. Theres a few catches in place about the procedure too, such as the procedure being null if you reach the age of 18 beforehand. One of my favorite minor characters you meet is a large man who helps care for kids who chose to run away (to avoid the procedure), and his motive is that he actually has a replacement arm from an unwound kid a long time ago, and he fees feels indirectly responsible for their death. It's a really good read I love his works so much 💜💜

19: !! Another possibly long winded answer! X'D

I'll include family pets, since our first family pet was Griff whom I was very close too 💛. Griff was a Golden Retriever we got while we lived in Germany for a time, and he was the same age as me, ALSO born in February, and we were practically inseparable ;w;

When we got back to the states, we also got this cat named Dor (Door?? I never really learned how to spell her name >7>) and she was a fussy thing, didn't really like kids but didn't super fuss about it! We did let a senior home adopt her tho, so that she wouldn't be tormented by such tiny tots. We also had a bright red betta fish, who PROBABLY had a real name, but I adoringly called him Rags, because Crowntail Bettas looked like shaggy rags to me. There's not much story for him since I didn't interact all the time!

During this time, mom let me read up on birds because I wanted to try having a pet bird, and we decided to start with Parakeets! We got a little purple girl who I named Smokey. Smokey hated absolutely everyone and tried as my 9 year old self may, I just couldn't train her for *anything* she eventually passed away from laying too many eggs, which was heartbreaking.

After some research, mom decided trying a cockatiel would be better, because we didn't know that IN GENERAL, budgies are hard as hell to train. ESPECIALLY girls. So we adopted a cockatiel, and I creatively called him Spike because of his Crest! Within three days of living, I noticed that Spike was breathing p weird (remarkable for a 9 year old if ya ask me). He kept breathing through his beak instead of just... breathing. After the third day of telling my mom, she decided "yeah I should probably take him in" he died in 4 days due to a rare ass disease only 1 in ??? Cockatiels get so mom and I agreed birds probably just weren't for me

The next pet was one that I got for myself from a friend, a little russian dwarf hamster I renamed to peanut since she had such a soft brown color. Peanut lived in my room, and lived out the rest of her natural life just fine! But it was really distressing for 6th grader (going through wild mental issues) to watch my hamster die of old age in front of me. After Peanut, I stuck with Griff mostly.

After moving back to texas, and having to put down Griff, I was super.... broken?? I had a shit ton of issues lol, but my uncle Eric came by with news that he was looking for someone to take his extra cat since the air force only allowed one pet (if I remember right, dont completely quote me lol) That was when I claimed responsibility for the kitty, and adopted an orange deformed cat named Skippy. He was born without a tail, and his hind left foot wasn't completely formed, thus his skips across the house. Skippy was my last pet that I had for a long while, before I moved out and couldn't take him with me (which hurt the both of us ;_; )

Some years passed then, to the now, and I help Elli take care of 3 budgies, and a little finch who was appropriately named Peep, and that's all the pets I've had!

TLDR: A golden retriever, a fish, a cat, a parakeet, cockatiel, hamster, a different cat, 3 budgies and a finch

28: no idea! I don't have any grand important things I wanna do, mostly because of the DID. Too many interests that we all wouldn't be able to agree on, so ultimately, we just wanna live happily. Buy a house someday and just exist with ppl we care about, playing games and drawing, whatever we wanna do. In the past though, I had an interest in being a mortician! When I learned about all the science I'd have to take tho, I ditched the idea. An artist is hard as an occupation, but it's a dream. I can't even get myself to draw 70% of the time though. MAYBE if I found the time to brush up on game programming then I'd try being an indie developer, but that's a little too much for the time I have in general now lol.

[haydenmarin]

( samuel larsen | cismale | he/him ) ——— well well, if it isn’t hayden marin coming out of apartment 5.1. i always think of the sweet smell of nicotine clinging to worn leather, the vibration of bass through your rib cage, and the bittersweet freedom of giving up when i see them, don’t you? anyway - i heard the twenty five year old moved out to new york seven years ago to go to school and become a baseball player. that must’ve gone nowhere because they now work as a club owner; maybe that’s because they’ve a tendency to be calculating, libertine and sarcastic. i guess they could’ve been someone… — [ pepper | 23 | est | she/her ]

heyo all, i’m pepper, twenty three, she/her pronouns, and i’m always late dfkjdfkj as you can see, like i literally had everything prepared beforehand i don’t know how i’m still late... honestly rip. a bit about me i guess, i am still waiting for fergie to come back from her hiatus (because no song goes as hard as fergalicious, that’s a fact), i still don’t really understand what tiktok is and i’m okay with that, i’m  addicted to pinterest and atm i’m really craving some fries. okey doke, now that that’s over with i’m super excited to PROPERLY introduce you to my trash son hayden!  here are some stats on him, here is his pinterest board, and here is his playlist! down below is hayden’s bio which is hella long sdkjdskj i’m so sorry i wrote up a short form but i liked his full bio better. if you read absolutely ANY of it i love you okay.

CANCER TW, DEATH TW

BIO ;

Hayden was born and raised in Santa Barbara, California where he happily spent most of his childhood by the beach. He was raised solely by his mother, Rosie Marin, who did her very best to bring him up on her own despite his father’s purposeful lack of involvement. Rosie owned a small local bakery (aptly named Rosie’s) that she and Hayden lived above. Hayden’s childhood was peppered with memories of waking up to the scent of fresh bread, pushing up onto his tiptoes to ice cupcakes, and of course, always being the most popular kid in his classes because his mom brought the best snacks. Hayden and his mother had just nearly enough to get by most of the time, but Hayden grew up very loved and very happy. His mother made sure of that at the very least.

Unfortunately, Rosie was diagnosed with lung cancer when Hayden was just ten years old. She fought hard against the disease for two hard years before she unfortunately passed away when Hayden was twelve. In all honesty, Hayden has never really quite gotten over his mother’s death. At the time his mother was quite literally all he had. He never knew his overly religious grandparents (who disowned Rosie for having a child out of wedlock) and he had no aunts or uncles that he knew of. All he really grew up with was his mother, and watching her die for two years was incredibly hard for him, and after her death he felt that for the first time in his life he was truly alone.

To everyone’s surprise, but especially Hayden’s, after his mother’s death his father got into contact with him through his godmother who Hayden was staying with at the time. Shockingly enough despite his total absence for majority of Hayden’s life, Hayden’s father wanted to take Hayden in. Hayden was very much against it, considering he had never met his father and was reasonably rather upset with him for abandoning both him and his mother. However, Hayden’s godmother thought that living with his father would be best for him, not only considering that it may be Hayden’s last chance to have a relationship with a parent but also because Hayden’s father, Raphael, was very well off. So despite his (very vocal) protests Hayden was then sent to live with his father, which quickly became a very sour arrangement.

It became very clear very quickly that Hayden’s father wanted nothing to do with him. He spoke to Hayden only when necessary, seemed to forget his son was there most of the time, and left on business trips near constantly. Eventually Hayden learnt (through some rather sneaky eavesdropping) that the only reason his father had taken him in in the first place was to please Hayden’s stepmother. Apparently, Cheryl, or ‘Cherry’ as she insisted everyone call her, was practically begging Raphael for a baby, and seeing as Raphael had very little time or desire for having a child he decided that having a twelve year old around was better than an infant. Hayden was hurt to learn the truth about his father’s desire to take him in, and even attempted to run away in a fit of anger. But he was very quickly found by some of his father’s security and brought back to his father’s expansive home before he could get very far, and every attempt following the first resulted in much of the same thing.

Eventually Hayden gave up on running away. His father was rarely home long enough for Hayden to demonstrate how much he loathed him anyways, and within the walls of his father’s home Hayden was at least clothed and fed. He resented his father and longed to run away back to his godmother’s home but unfortunately his father’s home was a long way away from Santa Monica.

So Hayden started to build a life for himself where he was, and that life started with school. Even without being the kid in school who’s mom brought the best snacks, Hayden was still quite popular in school, and for the most part that was due to baseball. Hayden had always played baseball, ever since he was young and his mother used to bring plates full of orange slices to his peewee games (the Marins had always been a baseball family. Screw football or hockey, if it wasn’t on a baseball diamond they didn’t care about it). Hayden also had the good fortune of actually being very talented. So when Hayden tried out for catcher on his high school team he got the position very easily, and was even bumped up to first string to boot. Although some of the upper year students weren’t particularly happy about a freshman making first string, a lot of the colleges were. Hayden’s talent was noticed and sought after from the time he was about halfway through his sophomore year, and his near prodigy level skill was even featured in some local sports magazines and the local newspaper. Despite knowing that the magazines likely wouldn’t have cared about Hayden’s skill if he wasn’t going to one of the most well known private schools in the state, Hayden’s ego still inflated a bit at the recognition.

For a few years that’s all Hayden’s life was. Playing baseball, hanging out and partying with friends, and occasionally having to deal with his father and stepmother when the situation called for it. It wasn’t the best life, and Hayden wasn’t exactly happy but it was all Hayden really had, so he did his best to make do with it. In all honesty at that point the thing that made Hayden happiest was his team. While Hayden’s home life was broken, his team helped him find the community he craved. Playing baseball and being part of a team made Hayden feel that he belonged somewhere, like he was wanted somewhere, and Hayden clung to that sensation gratefully.

But when Hayden was about halfway through his junior year things rapidly went downhill. You have to be a level 10 friend to unlock what happened there because I honestly don’t think Hayden has talked about it since the night it happened, but basically all you need to know is that a series of events happened one night that led to Hayden basically being thrown out of his home that very same night and disowned, full stop. 

Hayden’s only saving grace was that his father was too proud to let his son live on the streets. Raphael set Hayden up with his own apartment near his school, and paid for Hayden’s rent and expenses. However, he did so without communicating with Hayden even once, and it was very clear that Hayden had essentially been disowned. When Hayden was eighteen the money stopped, and Hayden moved out of the apartment. Hayden and Raphael haven’t really talked since.

Hayden got into university on a full baseball scholarship, despite all the chaos. He leaned heavily on his chosen family, his baseball team, throughout that difficult interim between being kicked out and graduating, and during that time he threw himself into baseball with such vigor and intensity that he impressed more than a few of the scouts circling around him. He ended up choosing NYU because it was the school that was the farthest away, and although Hayden didn’t want to be far from his hometown and his mother’s grave, he did want a fresh start away from his father and Cherry.

Hayden university experience was unremarkable but very significant to him. In fact, the fact that it was mostly unremarkable is what made it so special to him. For the most part, Hayden was pretty close to completely happy. He became captain of the baseball team his second year, made lifelong friends in his team and his frat, and eventually achieved his ultimate goal, getting recruited onto a professional baseball team in his junior year. Hayden graduated early with a degree in business, proud of his accomplishments, and finally feeling as if he was breaking through a barrier of tragedy through his life. He was finally approaching his happy ending.

But of course it didn’t last. Hayden played for the New York Yankees for almost two years, (and was damn good at it too) before he injured his shoulder in a game. The injury was serious enough that his future in baseball seemed to just sudden became nonexistent. In a moment, a split second really, all of Hayden’s dreams that he had just barely reached suddenly crumbled in his hands. Disappeared into fucking nothing. It was like god had it out for him. Hayden didn’t take it well.

After the doctor’s final diagnosis (a solemn gaze behind wire rimmed glasses, a fucking clipboard that Hayden wasn’t allowed to see, stainless steel, the smell of death, god Hayden fucking hated hospitals), Hayden stayed in New York because even if he wasn’t living out his dream, well he had nowhere else to go. He went on a bit of a bender though. Drinking, partying, drugs, girls, guys – you name it, Hayden indulged in all of his vices in an attempt to find comfort. Some friends he made through the years tried to get into touch with him (and some very notably didn’t) but Hayden never really did much more than go through the motions with any of it. ‘I’m fine’ quickly became an automated response, one he didn’t even have to think about, one he would give whether drunk or high or completely and utterly lost– Because he was. He was fine. Anyone who thought differently could get fucked.

Hayden bought the club on a whim. His time in the league meant he had more than a bit of money saved, and since the place was for sale and Hayden liked to party, he figured it was a no brainer. He’s owned the place for almost three years now, and it’s actually been surprisingly successful. Hayden’s status of ‘former baseball player’ was enough notoriety to get people to show up, and the fact that the place was actually more than decent kept them coming. Hayden treats the club like more of a hobby than an actual business, too busy with his extracurricular activities to have more than a passing interest in it but… it’s fun. And well. It’s not like he has anything else to do.

Hayden also moved into 5.1 on a whim just over three years ago, mostly to make sure there were people around him in case he happened to drop dead one day yk, a precaution. He lived by himself for a while before that while he was in the league and after his injury but honestly Hayden is a big extrovert, he hates being alone, and living by himself in the huge ass loft he used to own just made him feel more lonely. So he responded to the first ‘roommate wanted’ ad he could find and now here he is. He honestly has enough money that he doesn’t need to be there, but he likes the company so he’s sticking around. 

PERSONALITY / HEADCANNONS ;

Hayden, is as the kids say… a fuckboi, probably

He is very loyal, like he cares a lot about his own but anyone outside of his circle he’s kind of indifferent to. Like he’s friendly, and almost pleasant but like… he does not really care about them yk, there’s a distinct lack of like sincerity in the way he treats his friends vs randos (or even ‘friends’)

Morally grey to the max

A very good liar, who lies often. Can be very manipulative but he doesn’t have a reason to be lately, so he mostly just manipulates business partners.

LOVES messing with people. It’s like crack to him

Very sarcastic

Will sleep with anyone he’s attracted to tbh. Bisexual, and very comfortable with it by now. Used to be kind of iffy with it when he was playing professionally, but now that he’s got no chance of ever being a pro again and the paps have pretty much left him alone he gives no fucks.

Actually pretty clever, hence the whole actually being able to own a successful business thing.

Might bake for the roommates of 5.1 if they’re nice to him and he’s actually really freaking good at it like he learned from his mom, and honestly baking highkey reminds him of her so he doesn’t do it too often. 

Lowkey his dream is to go back to santa barbara and run his mom’s bakery (his dad sold the place but hayden bought it back as soon as he had the money) but since he kind of considers himself a failure and disappointment to his mom at this point his bitch ass doesn’t think he deserves to yet, so he’s staying in new york for a while. 

Hates hospitals with a passion. Would rather die than go to one willingly. When Hayden is sick he just voluntarily suffers. 

Oh, and Hayden’s club is named Omnia and friends get in for free so feel free to hit him up for a good time.

WANTED CONNECTIONS ; 

i would love a bromance for hayden honestly that would be fun 

a godsibling! hayden used to be v close to his godmother so this could be fun too

someone who he has a bad influence on? someone who’s a good influence on him? 

one night stand! maybe they didn’t even realize they were going to be living in the same apartment complex at first but then they found out and it was like oh shit 

fwbs or ewbs

a secret fling could be a fun thing to play out!

a hateship. like they bicker all the time and they really wanna wring each other’s necks, just give me some good old fashion animosity.

someone who frequents his club maybe, perhaps he’s always kicking them out or perhaps they’re always partying together.

maybe an ex that he was dating during his time playing professionally (can be f/m/nb) that Hayden ended things with when he got his injury and moved to New York? Fun drama. 

Some friends from college would be cool too if anyone went to NYU.

omg that reminds me i have a headcannon that Hayden dated the first and only person he ever loved in college and they broke his fucking heart so if anyone wants to play that out and dive head first into some angst with me then lemme know. 

TAKEN CONNECTIONS ;

dolly = little sister he never wanted / soft spot 

kitty = work wife / flirtationship / friend from college

jac = ex fwb / ride or die 

art = bad influence / haaaave you met ted? 

juliette = good influence / in house nurse 

chris = bromance / friend from cali 

[meggannn]

@ferociousqueak @steinbecks funny enough I was in a mood to talk about my Shep, so you’re both mind readers :D

-- LYDIA SHEPARD

10. Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

(TBH I have difficulty understanding neuroticism because people seem to use the word a lot to refer to a lot of things, people, and symptoms. Even reading and listening to doctors’ explanations doesn’t help, but I’ll try to answer this.)

It’s weird, she does have some serious personality issues that make her a little left of normal, but IIIIIIII wouldn’t call all of it neurosis? She’s not overemotional, doesn’t have anxiety, and she’s not strictly a negative person. But she can be paranoid (from ME2-onward), cynical, and obviously has serious PTSD throughout the series; I wouldn’t say she’s depressed until maybe ME3. I think she knows all of these things: she has a pretty realistic grip on her strengths and flaws, and she knows when she’s not in a good headspace to make certain kinds of decisions, etc. It’s what makes her a good leader but it gives her a contradictorily low opinion of her own self-worth outside of her title. I think she starts treating herself a bit like a machine, like, she only eats well because she knows she has to; she makes herself sleep well because the consequences will be worse later if she doesn’t; she’s loyal to people but doesn’t expect (or sometimes even want) people to be loyal to her.

20. Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

I don’t have anything particularly juicy to report here. No diseases when she was a kid, whether out of luck or extermination of modern diseases in the 22nd century. But she did suffer from malnutrition and anything you would expect to come from that: anemia, fatigue, etc., especially as a biotic. They were probably worse, though manageable, when she was a teenager, but got better once she joined the navy with a steady diet and exercise.

30. Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

She goes to work on autopilot. Shepard is a very action-oriented person, so an ever-present thought for her is always going to be “What next?” Kaidan’s dead, but we still need to stop Saren. Legion and Thane and Mordin are dead, but we still need to stop the Reapers. Anderson, my friend and mentor and only father figure and probably the person who knows me best in life, is dead, but I still need to activate the Crucible. I think part of it is just made easier because she accepts this is the reality of her work. If it’s a death for a good cause, it hurts, but it’s easier to swallow.

Shepard’s ‘resurrection’ might be the most complicated and fascinating intrapersonal tribulation I might have ever seen a character go through, and imo I love it when Shepards handle it TERRIBLY. This workaholic trait is why she was able to get back to work as soon as she woke up from the dead, but it comes at the risk of her own emotional sanity, imo. Some of it she might be able to release by yelling at The Illusive Man, but that’s it; I think she’s too good a soldier to risk a mission by being reckless just to work off stress, so pouring herself back into work by doing the best job she can is the only avenue she sees available. Grief, if/when it comes, usually comes months later; at most she might lock herself in a room, have a moment, and then get back to it.

40. Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Weirdly both? It comes with having a high opinion of her abilities and strengths, and almost no opinion of herself outside of the uniform just because she doesn’t know who that is. (To her credit, she is rarely wrong about her skills, just because it’s literally her job to know her limits. As an N7, she isn’t exactly incompetent; the only time I would say Shepard miscalculates her own abilities is on Aratoht.)

50. Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

*cracks knuckles*

Pre-service: Yes, though she wouldn’t say she’s afraid of dying, just specifically starving.

Enlistment: No opinion. She wants to do better, but she doesn’t have much going for her. If she’s a little fish in a very big universe; if she can at least die for a better cause than a gang war, she’d be fine with that.

Akuze: Yes. Oh god yes. She doesn’t know what she was thinking before.

Villa Militar: Slowly, surprisingly, no, but in a peaceful way. She’s only reluctant to die because she knows she has worth now alive, she has a mentor and a team of people who support her now, and doesn’t want to let them down.

ME1: Not anymore. Not to quote a psychopath, but along the lines of “Did you put on that uniform thinking you wouldn’t be asked to kill?”, Shepard has come to an understanding of “Did I put on that uniform thinking you wouldn’t die in it?”

ME2: hahhahahahHAHHAHAHHAH she’s not thinking about it. She’s not thinking about what happened after she “died,” she’s not thinking about how she saw nothing felt nothing WAS nothing. In fact she’s so good at Not Thinking About It, she’s snaps at anyone who calls their tour a suicide mission, even jokingly. She will not lose an entire crew for the third time, she will not she will not she will NOT.

ME3: The closest I can get to is... Dying in war for her would feel unfinished and restless. Dying after it’s over would be the closest thing to finally having peace that she can imagine. (She gets her wish.)

-- ATEM

9. Makeup?

Oh of course. Have you seen him? Both ancient world Atem and modern day Atem go all out. Atem is also fascinated by nail polish. Fortunately Yuugi is the fantastic encouraging partner that he is and doesn’t mind sharing a bathroom space with a guy who owns ten different kinds of mascara.

18. Favorite beverage?

Atem’s favorite food is his homeland is falafel which is basically like the modern day casual equivalent of a hamburger, so I’m gonna guess his favorite drink is also something extremely common, like beer, esp since the Egyptians drank so much. modern-day, I think he would also be oddly fascinated by and have a small obsession with like, a random sports drink, like Gatorade or something.

27. What is their biggest regret?

If accepting the Orichalchos/sacrificing Yuugi isn’t number one, it’s definitely at least in the top three. I think not being able to save Mahaad and his friends is another, and the Dark Games/his s0 behavior is a final third.

36. What makes them feel guilty?

Letting down his loved ones; for him it’s more than just failing to protect or do right by them them, I think it’s also failing the image he puts on for himself. He puts on a brave face because he knows he has no other choice. When he falls short of that, it means his friends sacrificed themselves for nothing, it means the Ishtars have been putting their hopes on a fraud, it means he’s not the man he thought he was.

45. Superstitions or views on the occult?

Well this guy believes in the Egyptian pantheon and is pretty accepting of any random ass magic that crosses his path -- and then usually masters the random ass magic within like, twenty minutes -- so I think that he’s got a pretty open mind where that’s concerned. For him, duel monsters is literally religious, so I think he has a great respect for unknown forces in the world.

THE EXCESSIVELY DETAILED HEADCANON TUMBLR MEME

[pitiless-achilles-wept]

I’m [Not] Fine: Distress Tolerance as a Double-Edged Sword

So, friends, it’s been a while. And if you’re wondering if I still have cancer...I do. I feel somewhat silly writing updates when, practically speaking, there’s nothing much for me to update you on. I also feel worried that I may “bore” you by continuing to have--and continuing to talk about--this same disease over and over. Cancer is just a fact of my life now, both terrifying and quotidian (and terrifying because quotidian). And, I guess, my cancer is also a fact of yours. And so I worry that you’ll lose interest or become habituated to it or maybe even just forget that it’s a Big Deal--to me, to you, to the world--and that I exist every day in quite a scary position. Or that--particularly since I’ve been keeping up do assiduously with my normal life (about which more in a moment)--you’ll wonder why I’ve chosen to confront you with my illness yet again. At a certain point doesn’t continuing to talk about it become...rude?

I’ve now had five weeks of in treatment during only four of which I’ve received chemo. (You get “off” weeks so that there’s some built-in recovery time so that, for example, I’ll get chemo again on Thursday and then I’ll get a week off next week.) Five weeks and, to my great surprise, I’m still not looking or behaving much like a cancer patient.

Or am I?! What IS a cancer patient supposed to look or behave like anyway?!

[Reflections on this question below the cut]

This question relates to the post I wrote earlier about the invisible illness and how I have (still) the privilege of not looking like I have stage 4 cancer - a disease that is extensive and serious and which is maybe still growing even as I type this. I wrote before about how the invisibility of my illness so far is a largely positive thing that allows me to “pass” as a regular person. I’m experiencing a bit more of the other side of that now, though, which is that as my treatment progresses with relatively mild symptoms and without hallmarks of illness (I STILL have so much hair that I actually had to get it CUT last week!) the severity of my disease becomes, I think, less real to the people around me. It’s still quite real to me. Not only do I literally never forget about it, but it’s my physical body that’s experiencing symptoms, which are accurately characterized as “mild” but which are absolutely, definitely unpleasant. For the record, I have more or less constant acid reflux, which I manage with over-the-counter medicine; low-grade nausea that I have drugs for; occasional diarrhea that also just takes over-the-counter stuff; neuropathy--nerve death--manifesting as pins-and-needles in my fingers and toes; joint/muscle pain in my shoulder withs some spasms; and bleeding and bruising easily which has led to some bloody noses when it’s dry. (Far worse, I will add, are the psychological effects of wondering constantly whether chemo is working; if it is working how well; if it isn’t working how much the cancer has spread; whether I will recover at all and, if so, for how long; and all the myriad other questions that can send me deep into an anxiety spiral.)

So I guess that’s...not nothing. And yet I barely ever mention it. In part, it’s because I’m aware how of how incredibly lucky I am to have such relatively minor symptoms. I know it’s worse for most people, that chemo renders many people miserably sick and basically non-functional. I also don’t bring them up because I hate mentioning things to people when they can’t do anything about them, projecting, I suppose, my own dislike of feeling powerless to help those I care about. (I show love by trying to problem-solve, which is neither the best nor the worst approach.) Add to these reasons the fact that I’m very afraid of being perceived as “whining” or “complaining” (even when there is a very valid thing to complain about) AND of being perceived as “weak” if I can’t hack something this relatively mild and you can see why I choose simply not to discuss it.

But I think my decision not to talk very much about my symptoms has to do also with an ability I have that has betrayed me before and kept me from getting the support--emotional or practical--that I have needed in the past. That ability is my skill with distress tolerance. “Distress tolerance” is a term from DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) although I find it more broadly useful as a concept. Essentially, it is what it sounds like: the ability to withstand emotional or physical discomfort. It’s a quality that I have cultivated relentlessly over the years, both because I needed it to cope with the situations in which I found myself and because it was highly valued by others. It is a positive thing, in one way, since it affords the ability to make it through incredibly difficult situations intact. It can be a negative one too, though, particularly since “distress tolerance” can look to the untrained observer a lot like being unaffected, unruffled, “fine.” It functions far too effectively as camouflage.

One of my best friends, who was my housemate during my Oxford Master’s, said back then that you could always tell when certain people were on the edge of collapse because, when asked how they were, they would just say “I’m fine.” These weren’t just any people, though. They were people like us. Some people probably mean it quite sincerely when they say that they’re fine--they may even want you to stop asking if they say so! Those people would probably also tell you if something were wrong, might NOT think of themselves as being weak or disappointing in some way because of the simple fact of needing something from another person. I’m not one of those people, though, and neither was she. We’re the kind of people, instead, who will smile while bleeding internally, laugh through the pain, keep up a good appearance no matter what. We’ll also trick you and distract you like professional conmen, weaving together strands of questions and compliments about your life, until you’re unaccountably talking at great length about it. You may have asked about us, but after we say the magic word (“fine”) you’ll find that we are talking about you and only you. 

Very few people spot this trick, which is understandable since people, in general, love talking about themselves. This makes it also a very clever emotional trap for friends, family, and partners; if you don’t see through me, if you let me go through my song and dance, I feel like you don’t really see me at all and I can therefore push you away. The rare people who do see through this fiendishly clever trick are usually the ones who know how to do it themselves. They’re kindred spirits with whom the process short-circuits, forcing me to have a real conversation about how I am past “fine.” I’m lucky that I now have a lot of these people in my life, partly because when I find them I cling on for always, partly because I’ve worked hard on breaking this pattern to be able to have more of these real conversations. After all, is there anything more valuable than finding another person who you feel truly sees you?

So when I am tolerating my distress--whether it’s physical or emotional--I can at least be sure that there are some people in my life who will see me, and see through me. But they’re mostly not living where I live, which adds another layer of complexity. How will they see through me when they’re relying entirely on my own reports? The answer, of course, is that I have had to get better at being honest: at honestly assessing how I am and honestly telling people if it’s not “fine.” And it’s absolutely one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. But it will, I think, mean that I emerge from this horrible experience with even better friendships and, perhaps, better coping mechanisms. Distress tolerance is all well and good, to an extent, but it shouldn’t be the main principle along which I organize my life. 

So that’s how I am, really. Both fine and not fine. Living my everyday life as well as I can, ignoring the symptoms I can’t eradicate, taking things a step at a time and hoping for all the best. But also consumed with grief and rage and fear, all of which sit untapped but just below the surface, easier to access even than the veins into which my port is plumbed. My reluctance to tap those feelings is because, more than acid reflux or shoulder spasms, they would make my life unlivable if I experienced them all the time. But perhaps it’s enough to share that they are there, even if you can’t see them, and that they are part of what makes me different from how I used to be--even if I still look the same. 

(Pictured: new haircut)

[math-is-magic]

Heya. So I've been thinking about matching scars verse, and had a question I wanted to ask you because I love your headcanons, especially for Izuna. Basically, if instead of Mikako Shikako is reborn as Senju Takako, and Izuna is her soulmate how do you think things would go? Can a soulmate whose experiencing their partners wound be healed? And if they do, does it heal the other's wound as well? What would this Izuna think of soulmates? These Uchiha's? Would he even realise he has one?

Oh boy, Kitsune, if you wanted to trick me intro writing a story for you, this is a good way to do it. XD Even just explaining my thoughts on this is. Not going to be short. But I’ll do my best.

Okay, so first. Mechanics. 

Laural and I decided that soulmates are very, very rare in this verse, practically legendary. Tobirama has only seen one other person who had a soulmate in his entire life. Izuna hasn’t seen any, except Mikako (and therefore wouldn’t have seen any in a Takako verse). Otherwise the whole society would. Not be able to operate the way it did in canon because everyone would be dead. 

Additionally, if one soulmate is injured, that soulmate must be the one who is healed. Otherwise it would be WAY too OP, to be able to heal someone in battle from a safe distance. Soulmates

Now, as to how things would change… Lets start with a few differences between Tobirama and Izuna, at least as Laural and I wrote them. 

Izuna has much lower self esteem than Tobirama. His priorities are, in order 1) his siblings, 2) the uchiha clan (and those two things are tied together TIGHTLY in his mind), and a DISTANT 3) himself. Izuna has so much of his world wrapped up in Mikako and Madara (as his siblings, and the Most Important People in the Clan, which is the Most Important thing) that sometimes the way he looks at the world is a bit. Funny. 

Even if he noticed any similarities between Mikako’s injuries and the wounds he gave Tobirama, he’s literally incapable of putting two and two together because that would mean he hurt Mikako, which is just. Unfathomable. Does not Compute. This Sentence is a Lie. (See also: why he’s so invested in her injuries being Tobirama’s fault when things are revealed in canon).

Tied up in the above, Izuna can not accept that the world itself would be so cruel as to hurt an innocent like Mikako. The world is dark, yes, but that’s because the Uchiha’s enemies yet live. It’s the people who are cruel. If Izuna can just destroy them all, then the world would be bright, and Madara and Mikako could live safe happy lives. The world cannot be cruel, or else everything Izuna wants is impossible. And if the world is not that cruel, then this can’t be the result of some “””soulbond.””” This is an attack by an enemy. And so that was the sort of thing he was always looking for, not Mikako’s soulmate.

Meanwhile, Tobirama is a lot more practical, somewhat more honest with himself, and has actually seen a soulmate die in battle from her partner’s wounds before. 

Where I’m going with all this, is that Izuna never figured it out, but Tobirama probably would. He would notice that Takako’s injuries matched, and that would affect how he dealt with Izuna. Capture would quickly become priority, though whenever Hashirama found out, he’d probably try to go for negotiations instead, since he truly wants the village, and believes her can talk Madara around in a way Madara doesn’t think he could Hashirama. So, you probably end up getting the village eventually, even if Izuna is VERY cranky about it and probably considers killing himself a few times to “free” Madara from the Senju’s hold over him. I choose to believe these attempts would be averted and he would come around though. So, this option would be quite painful to Izuna for a very long time.

(I am also assuming here that Tobirama doesn’t figure this out until later/never tells his father this, because I can imagine Butsuma weighing things in his head and deciding to kill or maim Takako to try and take down one of Senju’s most promising ninja, and emotionally upset their other top ninja. This would end. Badly. Hashirama wouldn’t allow it, and Tobirama wouldn’t stand with his father against both of his siblings. They’d have to either run, or, ironically, pass her to the Uchiha somehow, since the Uchiha have oodles of reasons to protect her and keep her safe. Which creates a really interesting tension. There’s lots to possibly explore there.)

But that’s not particularly fun. So let’s say he doesn’t realize. Tobirama is still a sealing genius, and he’s messed with stuff much worse that soulbonds. Life and death, time and space, he twists them to his will. Additionally, I headcanon that Tobirama’s red lines are from a failed attempt at Sage Mode, so he’s always a little extra aware of special non-chakra energies (like I imagine Mokuton to have a bit of life force) in addition to just generally being a good sensor and a genius. 

So, I think Tobirama would probably manage to sever the bond Takako had with her soulmate. But Laural and I decided that if such a thing were to happen, it would only cut the injury part, not the pain part. That’s much deeper. Additionally, it would slowly weaken each party; the bond strengthened and balanced them, after all, and having a severed soul bond just. Can NOT be good for you. And so as she slowly weakens and wastes away, Tobirama would be frantically looking for a way to fix it. Which means he will need to go find her soulmate. 

Eventually, it will be obvious that something has happened to Izuna too, and so Hashirama would probably pester Madara and eventually Tobirama would figure that out and they’d all have to work together. This probably ends VERY badly for Tobirama; Izuna’s not going to see himself as indebted to Hashirama for saving him, since it was to save his sister. And he’s going to oppose the alliance hard, even with Takako’s knife hanging over his head. If the alliance happens, he will surely push for retribution against Tobirama for his unnatural work and how it almost destroyed Izuna and even Tobirama’s own sister! So, this story probably doesn’t end well for Tobirama, at least not for a really long time.

So, let’s say Tobirama doesn’t notice Takako’s soulmate is Izuna, and doesn’t manage to sever the bond in any way. I’m going to avoid putting Kako on the battlefield for now; Laural and I purposefully gave her a chakra disease to Nerf her, otherwise everything is way too easy.

So, Kako doesn’t give a shit about Izuna. She’s actively preparing to eliminate Madara. But otherwise, she sees no need to get involved with anything between the two clans, and risk Konoha not happening. So, that last fight between Tobirama and Izuna probably goes as in canon. Izuna is fatally injured, and refuses help rather than let Madara be in the Senju’s debt. Tobirama and Hashirama go home, things a bit strained between them, I imagined, as Hashirama is all emotional about Madara’s grief for Izuna, and Madara’s rejection of help.

And then. 

Kako’s not just hurt, she’s dying. From the exact same slow, painful wound Tobirama gave Izuna hours earlier. And no healer, not even Hashirama, can do anything about it.

From here there is some variation of Tobirama offering himself up to heal Izuna and be punished, a La “As Is The Sea Marvelous” by blackkat, Tobirama telling Hashirama and them bursting into the Uchiha compound forcibly heal Izuna, if necessary, or maybe some slightly tactful explanations and negotiations. There’s a lot of ways to take this with differing levels of angst along the way, but ultimately, I think this would still get to Konoha being built and Izuna and Takako becoming friends, and tensions slowly simmering down. Or at least being ignored, because Tobirama and Izuna feel they can’t physically hurt each other any more. 

I feel like those two would be REALLY good at passive aggression though.

Aaaand... yeah. I think that answered you questions? Though I ended up focusing more on Tobirama and Izuna than Takako, which is unfair to her but also like. Kako is Kako. We know how she would feel about these things at any point.

And....I am running out of steam and too tired to add much more right now, so. I’ll leave it there. 

[byjayr-blog]

Divine Femininity, Power of Her Aura - Ella.

I’ve been in the arts and music industry for about 4 years or so now, and inevitably saw how the rise of women in the creative industry hasn’t been getting as much attention, so I’ve decided to start a series based on women all around the world who are in the creative industry. I ask them to share their story with me (and you :) ) as to how they got to where they are today. The series will introduce a new divine woman once a month, as my first post to this series I’d like to introduce July’s divine woman my friend Ella.  

Ella is a Fashion Model currently based in Montreal, I’ve asked her to share her story with me, enjoy.

byjayr - Walk me through your story, and can you recount any specific pivotal moments (as much description as you can remember on where you were and how you were feeling)?

Ella - My story is a long one. I guess it’s not just one story at all, there’s a lot of events and challenges that have led me to where I am today. For this interview I’m going to specifically talk about the part of my story that concerns the journey I’ve been on regarding my physical appearance & health.

I’m not really sure how to start this, so I guess I’ll start at the baseline. I was a happy person. Grew up without financial burdens in a suburban white family. I kept honours in all of my classes at school, loved theatre, had very high muscle strength for my size from ballet & gymnastics, was super fit and healthy, conventionally attractive person. Everything changed in November of 2011 when I had to become a tough bag of knuckle and grit, being flown by air ambulance to Halifax for an extremely rare auto-immune disease (Rapidly Progressive Glomerulonephritis) that had given me stage 5 (end stage) kidney failure. I was a young body filled with dreams but my body disagreed with me. You lose a lot of trust in yourself when your own body turns on you.

For the first three months or so of my sickness I was undergoing chemotherapy as a method of trying to suppress and reboot my immune system in order to get my kidneys to work again. During this time, I had huge diet restrictions (basically all I could eat was white bread, gummy bears and water) and became extremely malnourished. On top of that, I was on high dose steroids with horrible side effects, making me extremely weak. All I know is that I spent the last hours of 2011 sitting on the floor, staring at my legs, being astonished by skinny they were. I was strangely proud of how undernourished and skeletal they were, I had always wished I had the will power to intentionally be that skinny- but that’s another story. Both physically and mentally my functions were imbecilic. That night I blacked out and received the a blood transfusion that saved my life, but gave me a rash from hell. Physically, you honestly couldn’t recognize me.

The transfusion helped me in gaining my strength back from the months of crawling on the ground like a helpless baby. Despite my new found dividend of health, everything I was going through at this point made me ugly. Chemotherapy had taken away my thick, luscious locks of strawberry blonde, it took away all of my fingernails and toenails. The rash that covered me head to toe was gruesome. My entire body kept shedding it’s skin like a snake, leaving behind fragile pink tender skin that wasn’t even ready to be exposed to air. I felt like an unflattering cardboard cutout of an ugly caricature of myself.

I stopped leaving the house for a solid chunk of my precious time.  Alone and sad, waiting for the day I could finally close my eyes for the last time. I don’t think I saw anyone but my family and my friend Mia for at least three months. No photos exist of this time. Evidently this made it hard for me to keep up with my then “boyfriend”. In fact, I remember him asking if I’d take him back when I recovered, but all I said was “I’m not getting better”, and proceeded to ignore him. I couldn’t accept that he had the nerve to still adore me, I was so painstakingly un-sexual. How dare he want to kiss me. I knew I was no longer the girl who was all the perfect fashion, and eventually I really started to mourn for myself. I would never be glamorous, I thought, but at this point I desperately sought being able to be something completely ordinary and unremarkable. Staring at my familiar, tragic limbs- I believed my cold pink hands would never again feel pretty.

One very vivid memory I always think about is when I left to go to the mall for the first time since being sick. I slathered on a coat of the makeup watching actual centimetre parcels of skin peel like a million meaty sunburns that oozed out makeup. I started peeling and picking off the scabs but the more I peeled the more I bled. I came to the conclusion that I would have to peel off my entire face if I wanted to even out the texture of it, so I gave up. I slathered it in vaseline to glue the drooping flakes back onto my face in attempts to mimmic a smoothness and then used half the bottle of foundation to even out the colour. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror for what felt like hours. My face was the texture of a golfball; but more uneven and porous. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t even close to me. Even my eyes had grown so passive, my lids that were once a flirting device batted still- but with their sparsely fallen out lashes they were so dim, so dead.

By late February of 2012, they realized my kidneys just weren’t going to start working from the chemotherapy. They stopped the chemo and I was put on peritoneal dialysis. In a nut shell, that means they put a tube in my belly, the tube connected to a machine every night at home and ran for 8-12 hours, depending on what the circumstances were. Essentially, dialysis does the work for your kidneys, but its more of a temporary thing, and as I found out the hard way, it has lots of complications. Years went by and I had plenty of brushes with death. Plenty more stories to be told about that. But this story is about the growing pains of my confidence & beauty, not my psychical pain.

It’s 2019 and it’s been five and a half years since I received my life saving kidney transplant. My mind has a weird complex built up around how I see myself in the mirror. I often find myself comparing myself to who I was before I ever got sick. I have this way of idealizing who I was before the sickness came, and I’m always seeing the world through rose coloured lenses when I think about my childhood. Sometimes I take a look at myself in the mirror and it’s really hard. I’m so quick to notice how frayed I am at the edges like I’m some kind of hand-me-down lace. Sometimes I just feel like all of my bones are too old for me, that they creak like a dusty house full of empty photo albums because I lost so much opportunity to fill them up with all the teenage  memories I had to miss out on. People tell my all of these experiences make me strong but for the most part I just find myself thinking they make me heavy. I had to grow up too fast and it hurts. It hurts but it’s going to be okay. The ocean is fucking heavy, mountains are fucking heavy, but they’re so perfect and beautiful and that’s all I should be seeing about myself too.

Today I feel secure, complex, and empowered. Maybe I won’t tomorrow, but taking things day by day is the best way I’ve learned to navigate through this world. There will always be people who take me for face value & my looks alone. It takes serious courage to love yourself in a world, in an infrastructure strategically set up to make people who have suffered trauma feel isolated, unworthy, and heavy. The caliber of experience I have endured has done nothing but expand my emotional intelligence, even if it isolates me. Our dominant culture is filled with violent myths. Break them.

J - What inspired you to do what you love?

E - The internet, contemporary situations, and people I surround myself with can be a source of inspiration/influence, but they can also be a huge form of intimidation/comparison. I used to try so hard to impress people but ultimately it just created huge insecurity blocks. Seeing other people competing for acceptance is toxic. I think it’s important to keep some things to yourself. Deconstruct the social construct of what “talent” is. You don’t have to cater to other people. The world doesn’t have to be this finite, limited space you think it is. Don’t let people devalue your creative ability and worth just because they don’t understand it. It’s their loss. My mom is the biggest loner I know and she inspires me every day. I think I work best alone and I get that from her. Maybe this sounds selfish to you but I think that more than anything, I inspire myself. My life has been one dark struggle after another and somehow I crawl my way out of it every time. I’m strong enough now to realize that being alone isn’t a bad thing at all. Isolation breeds individuality. Once I realized that, the world became a safer place for me.

J - What do you find yourself daydreaming about, and can you recount a specific daydream you’ve been having lately?

E - I want to be somewhere new. I’m so tired of Montreal. I dream of being somewhere  where absolutely nobody knows my name or where I’m from or how I got there. I don’t want to talk about myself. I want to learn about other people. To get inspired by them. Lately I’ve been working on music lots. It’s something I’m really passionate about and I can’t wait to share it with people who are open to listening. All I daydream about is being somewhere warm and somewhere exciting. The last few years have been really hard on me. I struggle with a lot of issues that I’m not going to delve into right now, but my biggest dream is just to be happy. To be able to look at myself and be proud, and to make my friends & family proud too. Life moves really fast and I’m making lots of changes. Things are changing for the better, I have to believe they will. <3

Thank you Ella for sharing your inspirational and moving story! <3

Come back next month to see August’s Divine Femininity. :) 

[shaykeijser]

#60 - i said get rid of it

this wasn't requested because all of my followers aren't active but i miss writing so here's this imagine :)

you were absolutely furious, it was taking all of your will power to not start throwing things and knocking over chairs. you were running around your small apartment that you shared with your boyfriend calum hood that was right outside of you both's campus, looking for any other of the death boxes.

ever since you were a young girl you had always been informed about how horrible smoking is for you, that it can lead to lung cancer and several other life damaging diseases. after you heard that your grandpa had struggled on and off with risks of cancer you had promised yourself that you would never get into the habit and would never be with anyone who was a smoker.

so when you found out freshman year of college that the brunette australian boy you had been dating for a few weeks smoked, you quickly ended things. your friends called you crazy, saying that you should have waited to see if he did it frequently or if it was a rare thing.

but you had made up your mind when your grandpa had a possible lung cancer scare. his doctor told him that a tumor he had was most likely cancer and right after that he quit smoking cold turkey. however, he got lung cancer about ten years later. knowing how much pain smoking had caused your family you didn't even want to spend time checking in on him.

after what felt like hours of waiting and waiting for your boyfriend of nearly three years to come home, the door finally opened. you ran to the door, ready to say the speech you had been preparing for ever since you saw the cigarettes hidden in the back of his night stand.

in fact, when you went to meet calum at the door you had already started your monologue.

"what the hell is wrong with you!? when i decided to get back together with you to help you quit i never thought that you would fucking go back to it!" you yelled, remembering when you had finally caved and got back together with him.

when you paused to collect yourself, you looked up to who you thought was going to be calum. however, it wasn't. it was ashton, one of his best friends, and yours.

"woah y/n, calm down. it's just me. were yelling about how calum started smoking again?" ashton asked you. as soon as he asked that your mind jumped to the worst case scenario, assuming that all of the other boys had known about him getting back into the life ruining habit. you didn't want to jump to that conclusion, but god damn it all made sense.

your voice rose to a scream, "did you know about this!? was i the only one that didn't, or did my boyfriend decide to just tell one of his friends, who also happens to be my best friend?"

flash back time bitches

"hey ash?" you asked your best friend ashton since your seventh year of primary school. at the moment you guys were on the couch together, two weeks before you both went off to college. you are both going to the same college, but your extended friend group was not.

"yeah?" he said.

you sighed, "are we going to try and make a whole group of friends, or just go stag throughout the campus together?"

"i actually mean to talk to you about this forever ago, but i'm joining a frat. so i'll have them" he looked up at you as if he was scared you would run away at any moment, "i'll still spend basically all of my time with you though."

ashton saying that made a choice you had been struggling with for a while very easy to choose, "that works perfectly! i was thinking about joinging a sorority too, i'll only do it if my roomate does though too."

ashton was apart of the same fraternity as calum, so that and you being in a sorority too made it a very easy greeting. you don't know it, but if ashton had a say in the meeting back then, and still now, he would have never let you met him if he knew how serious the relationship would go.

end of flashback time hoes

"no! of course not, you should know that i wouldn't hide something like that from you." he yelled back. right after he said it he wish he could take it back, he could tell that the last thing that you needed right now is getting yelled at by your best friend.

"hey, you have to listen to me okay? i know that right now you don't want anything to do with him, but i bet he'll have an explanation. okay?" he said, not using the same harsh tone as before. his words calmed you down.

finally, calum unlocked the door and came into the flat. he looked even more tired than when he had left this morning. granted, it was a 7 o'clock class.

his eyes lit up, "y/n! oh my god you have no idea how jealous i am of you for having later classes."

when his eyes fell on ashton he visibly stiffened. you were oblivious to it all, the way that you mainly saw ashton when calum wasn't around, the way calum happens to plan hang outs with the boys when ashton can't, and mainly the way that every three or four months they would have a huge fight about you. about how calum doesn't like ashton hanging around you when he isn't home, and that ashton can't keep using the best friends card. because everyone but you knew that ashton had been in love with you far before calum had ever met you.

"hey ash, didn't see you there." calum said, not looking at you or ashton.

"yeah, i've been meaning to come over to help y/n and you set up the sound box." he replied. ashton saying that should have made calum feel better, it was the truth, but it didn't. he no reason, but it just didn't. maybe because it was something that he wasn't able to figure out.

after less than two minutes of conversation with any of the three, you couldn't wait any longer.

"calum, i found your fucking cigarettes. i can't believe you, i said get rid of it years ago! how long? how long have you been hiding these in my home?" you attempted to yell. the more that you looked at him and tried to get angry again, the more you started forgetting. the more you felt yourself thinking that you didn't care. that you didn't care that he hid them, that he lied about it, that he had picked up the habit that caused you to break up with him in the past. you didn't care because all you could feel was love for him. and you were mad at yourself for that.

"they aren't mine, i promise!" he yelled back. you were surprised that he so able to get so mad so quickly, like this is something that you pulled out of your ass, something that didn't make any sense.

he turned to ashton, "was it you? did you point her to where they were? you must have known by now. hell, you were probably the one who made her so quick to think they're mine!" he yelled. you were shocked at why calum thinks calum would do something like that.

not letting it get to him, ashton remained calm, "wasn't me dude. she found them herself. i even told her that there's an explanation to why you have them. so instead of accusing, get explaining."

damn it calum! stay calm around him when y/n is around too, one day he'll do something that you can call him out for, calum thought.

"they're michaels. well, his girlfriends. she smokes and he's trying to have her quit. she's telling him that she did but he's finding them hidden around there place. so we're keeping them here. we agreed to not tell you because we knew that you wouldn't want them around me." he finished explaining. even though it was an elaborate plan you probably should have doubted or thought through it longer, you didn't care. you believed calum.

"i believe you. i wish you told me, but i get why you didn't...i most likely wouldn't have let you keep them here. you can now though, i trust you." you smiled up at him. you took his hands and wrapped them around you, feeling the guilt from accusing go away.

calum was so happy, standing there with you in his arms. for a moment he had thought he ruined everything. that ashton had. but no one did, you were still his. he was still yours.

lol sorry this is really long and still shitty. i want to get back into writing, so send requests. i write the maze runner, 5sos, shawn mendes, and riverdale. also, i'm totally down to write some ship fluff and imagines too. for arrowverse tv shows and riverdale. like olicity and bughead. so send requests for all of those if you want. like, reblog, and follow if ya like this, i hope to get back into writing soon! also, i'm going to try and link the prompt list somewhere here, i don't know if it'll work because i'm shit at html but i think i linked it as a source. anyways, love y'all!

[gorogues]

“Therefore I Am” and “Welcome to the Jungle”

Spoilers for this week’s episodes of Flash and Legends!  Cut for length.  It’s long, but I’d like to think it’s worth the read.

Two very good episodes this week.  The Flash episode takes place in the present day, but has quite a few flashbacks from the DeVoes' life four years ago.  The Thinker (Clifford) and the Mechanic (Marlyse, though I'm not quite sure how to spell it) are husband and wife, and in the past they were very much in love.  Clifford was and is a history professor, but four years ago he was frustrated that people didn't listen to him and didn't think he was intelligent enough to make them listen and ultimately educate them.  He had a plan to build a thinking cap to increase his intelligence, and Marlyse built it for him -- she's the techanical genius, with doctorates in mechanical engineering and robotics.  Clifford then hoped to power it with Wellsobard's particle accelerator, and the DeVoes attended the press conference seen in the pilot episode.  There, Marlyse asked Wellsobard a question, and his smug response indicated that he knew who Clifford was and knew what was going to happen; he said he was a big fan of Clifford and wished him luck.

Marlyse immediately realized that Wellsobard knew there would be an explosion and wanted it, and she thought that they shouldn't go ahead with the plan, but of course Clifford wanted it too and was determined to carry it out.  So he put on the thinking cap when the dark matter started going haywire, and was struck and nearly killed.  When Marlyse asked how he felt, he replied "Enlightened".  From that point on, he was hyper-intelligent and knew just about everything, but then he suffered a seizure and learned he had a degenerative disease similar to ALS as a result of the accident.  His new intelligence was feeding off his body, and would kill him within a couple of years.  This really upset him and he wished he'd never gone through with the experiment, but Marlyse built a special chair for him which prolonged his life (the one we've seen him in earlier this season), and that takes us to where we are today.

In the present, Barry and Joe go to interview him and Barry is convinced the innocent-seeming Clifford is the one he's looking for even though everyone else on the team disagrees.  In fact, Barry investigates him to a very creepy and illegal extent, such as breaking into their home, leading the DeVoes to complain to Detective Singh and getting Barry suspended.  It's pretty clear that Clifford was manipulating him into doing it and trying to separate him from his allies, because the rest of Team Flash was legitimately getting freaked out about his actions and he could have lost his job.

After some harassment, Barry decides to break the restraining order the DeVoes have on him to confront Clifford at his lecture hall.  Clifford says he knows Barry is the Flash, and unsurprisingly knows a lot about him (for one thing, he's had a camera in the Samuroid which has been in STAR Labs all this time, and Cisco really should have been smart enough to sweep for surveillance devices).  He admits to being the mastermind that Barry has sought, and says he has nothing to fear from the Flash because "you can't out-think me".  He brags that Barry's speed is nothing compared to the power of limitless thought, and that he has the fastest mind.  Basically he's cocky as hell and doesn't give a damn.

So Barry goes back to Team Flash and tells them about his little meeting, and they accept that he was right.  Cisco dubs DeVoe "the Thinker", and Wally makes an unexpected return.  He fought Starro while he was away!

At the very end of the episode, Clifford and Marlyse talk as they go to their underground lab, and Clifford says he approves of Cisco's nickname.  He gets tremors when he's unplugged for too long, so Marlyse hurries him into his special chair and they watch Barry and Iris on a spycam.  He says he'll let them get married, as he thinks that love is important.

The relationship between Clifford and Marlyse is really sad; they both loved each other dearly before the accident and she clearly loves him still, but he's been very distant from her since then.  He may still care about her, as suggested by his comment about love, but he's not the same person he once was.  The accident may have done something to his brain, or perhaps he's become separated from his humanity since his intelligence was boosted.  Or both.  My spouse and I disagreed about his motives pre-accident; I thought he was arrogant but generally well-meaning, and my spouse argued that he was malevolent from the start.  So I don't know, I'll have to watch those scenes again later.

It was cool to see the old-school thinking cap in all its dweeby glory and have it play a significant role in Clifford's backstory, and I really like that Marlyse is a skilled genius in her own right.  She seems to downplay her intelligence in favour of Clifford's, though, which is sad but not uncommon.  I wouldn't like to see her turn against him because that'd probably be really heartbreaking for her -- since she loves him so much -- but it'd be nice to see her accept her own genius and believe in it.

Anyway, it was a really interesting episode and I'm glad we got such an in-depth look at the DeVoes' earlier lives.  The villains in this show rarely get that, so it was good to see and helped to make clear why Clifford is and will be dangerous.

******

The Legends episode is heavy on both Mick and Grodd, and gives us a lot of insight into Mick's character.  He also gets some significant personal growth too.

In 1967 Vietnam, at the height of the war, some US soldiers are attacked by a mysterious force which we later learn is Grodd.  Yep, Grodd has become an Anachronism, so the Legends have to go solve the problem even though Sara's still in a coma.  They split up, with Mick and Nate going off together while Zari, Amaya, and Ray question the only soldier who'd escaped.  Mick is far crankier than usual and complaining about everything, and eventually tells Nate that his dad served in Nam and he doesn't want to encounter him.  So of course they're promptly caught by his dad and his squad.  His dad carries a flamethrower too and bears more than a slight resemblance to his son's personality and mannerisms, and Mick refuses to surrender to him.  Turns out his dad is named Dick Rory, and the two of them have a staredown but Dick ultimately accepts their presence.  He believes they're with the CIA.  But when Nate wants to know what the hell is going on with Mick, Mick says he never saw a shrink because he never regretted burning his dad to death, and is really angry about the subject of him.  He's quite unimpressed with Nate's attempts at tough love to get him to talk.

Dick sees Mick's burns and comments "Bad burns, son", to which Mick retorts that he isn't his son.  Mick tells Nate that all his dad did after the war was sit in his chair and drink, so you can see the source of his anger towards his father.  But when they're attacked by US soldiers who were mind-controlled/influenced by Grodd, Dick saves Mick's life by pushing him out of the way, and the two use their flamethrowers together to chase off the enemy.   Mick stares at some fire -- something we know he does when he's struggling with his thoughts or dealing with uncomfortable feelings -- and acknowledges to Dick that he saved his life.  It turns out that keeping his men safe is very important to Dick and he keeps a list of those who've died under his leadership.  He's obviously traumatized by the war, though he indicates that he plans to marry a woman (presumably Mick's mom) after the war and maybe have kids someday.

Later, Nate finds Mick self-injuring by burning his arm.  He tells Nate that he'd always seen his dad as a monster and blamed him for all the sick things he (Mick) did, but now he sees that he's worse than his father.  He says he should have burned to death in the house instead of his dad.  So he's obviously really fucked up emotionally at this point, having now understood that his dad had been traumatized by the war.

Ray later floats the idea that all the Legends' 'chance' meetings with their ancestors or their younger selves due to Anachronisms may not be coincidental, which is honestly one of the more interesting concepts the show has used.  All of these meetings had seemed rather coincidental, so it's good to know that the series may be going somewhere with it and that one of the characters themselves realized it.  Not all of these meetings have led to great revelations or character development, but some have, and perhaps time itself is trying to help them deal with personal issues or at least make them realize a few things about themselves.  Or perhaps an individual is guiding them for some reason.  Maybe Mallus, who may want them to get off his back and not fight him like Rip has been wanting them to.  They won't be able to do that if they get erased or significantly changed by the Anachronisms.

The story with Grodd is that he's been controlling people and keeping them from fighting the war.  He still plans to rule over everyone though, because he's obviously pissed off with humans in general.  Eventually, he tries to stoke World War III and kill LBJ, although the various Legends manage to foil those plans and keep him from getting the Waverider to take over the planet.  Amaya had briefly managed to get through to him, although that later gets ruined.

Dick learns of the enemy encampment (which is actually Grodd's camp) and plans to attack it even though Nate tells him not to because the other Legends are there.  Mick says he's with Dick.  The two of them attack the camp and Mick saves his father's life, and they take most of the people there prisoner -- including some of the other Legends.  Dick is about to execute the captives but Mick turns his heat gun on him to save the others.  When Nate reminds him that'll be erased if he kills his father before he's born, he says he doesn't care and has nothing to lose.  But he tells Dick that he *does* have something to lose, and that if he kills those people he'll hear their screams forever.  Once he's talked Dick down, he punches him, saying that he's always wanted to.

Later, Dick tells Mick that he appreciates what he did, and thanks him for keeping him from crossing that line.  Mick notes that he's been pulled back from that line himself, and they part ways; Mick starts to talk to him about his future kids, but decides not to and just leaves.  He then shakes Nate's hand and indicates that he appreciates the earlier tough love, and says he doesn't need the lighter anymore.  He lets Nate keep it.

At the end, Sara wakes from her coma and the two halves of Firestorm are preparing for their inevitable separation.  Plus, Grodd is saved by Damien Dahrk and given access to a different time travel device, so uh-oh.

So this episode told us a lot about Mick and his family dynamics, and it was good to see him learn from it and make peace with it.  He gave up his lighter and possibly his self-injuring behaviour, and hopefully he can continue that.  He learned a lot about his father and why the guy wasn't much of a dad, and while he has to live with the fact that he killed a traumatized veteran who could be a decent man, he will hopefully be able to deal with it.  It's possible that in the future he'll find he can't really cope and will start self-injuring again, but that's something we can't really predict right now.  However, he seems to have mostly forgiven his father and may one day begin to forgive himself.

Good episode, and it gave us a lot of food for thought: about Mick's history and issues, and about the idea that there's a guiding hand at work.  I enjoyed it.

[rilenerocks]

The other day I exchanged messages with a friend I’ve never seen. We met in an online Merkel Cell cancer support group. Her husband was a decade younger than Michael when he was diagnosed with Merkel, in his early fifties. The course of his disease was short, less than a year and a half from discovery to death. I got banned from that support group after being in it for a little over a week. I was bringing up questions about emotional issues rather than just talking about the nuts and bolts of the disease and its possible treatments. After I was kicked out, this friend begged the administrators for my email address and we’ve been corresponding ever since. The anniversary of her husband’s death was last week and I always check in with her on that day. I expressed my hope that she was getting along well and had found some space for small joys in her life. When she answered, I felt like she was troubled by her current emotional state. She wrote that we’d both had wonderful experiences in our marriages but that now we had to learn how to live again in real time. That caught me up short.

Live in real time? I’ve been living about as hard in real time as a person can, in my opinion. Since Michael’s death, I’ve traveled alone several times, organized my 50th high school reunion and seen my favorite tennis player, Roger Federer, twice in real life tournaments for the very first time. I’ve been to half a dozen music concerts from John Prine to Pete Yorn to Janis Ian and Paul McCartney, among others.

I swim five days a week. I go to movies and have joined a book club. I’m going to serve on my city’s historic preservation committee. I’ve taken a number of classes, had both my knees replaced and knocked many items off my to-do  list. Isn’t this living in real time? I think what she meant was that my constant emotional engagement with Michael means I’m living in the past. But that’s simply not true for me. Our long and deep emotional connection is still alive in me. He’s only been gone a tiny percentage of the time we were together. And he’s not going anywhere, not out of my head or my heart or my soul.

But that seems to be a point of contention in regard to how people are “supposed” to be after a death. Michael isn’t in my way in terms of daily life. I am. He doesn’t interfere with what I do. He didn’t when he was alive either. And that’s the way it is.  I thought to myself, this exchange is another case of more and less, the story of my life. I am always talking about the things which are “more” while many around me could do with a little “less.”

I certainly know more now about lots of things than I ever have  in my life. And that “knowing” is not yet close to its endpoint. I’m learning every day. I’ve always been learning. I’m motivated. As long as my brain is healthy I expect I’ll continue increasing my stash of both useful and useless facts and ideas. I retain volumes of it, stuffed in the corners of my mind. And I like to talk about it all. In traditional terms that seems ok. Certain areas of my conversation are acceptable. For example there are topics which are nice and neutral. There’s gardening. Sometimes there’s politics, although I can’t say I’m exactly neutral in that regard. But there’s  school.  This fall I’m taking three classes. One is about current affairs in the Horn of Africa about which I know very little. Another focuses on Persia and Rome and will feature readings from Herodotus. I’ve always wanted to read Herodotus, especially after watching the smolderingly sexy Ralph Fiennes carrying around a battered leather copy of his histories in the film The English Patient. The third is about early Scottish history. I know a little bit about that, but after watching the Outlander television series with the equally smoldering Sam Heughan, (who just happens to look like my husband when he was young,) I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn more. I’m a curious mixture of intellectual and pop culture knowledge – I can disappear into the classics world and pop back into current entertainment pretty seamlessly.

I was taking biology classes for a time during the past couple of years. Another socially acceptable conversation topic. But the science class offerings this fall weren’t that interesting to me this semester and frankly, I’ve got enough cancer stuff happening in real life without exploring more theory right now. Fucking cancer. I know several people who are actively engaged in their cancers, some of which are new and others which are old pals that lay dormant for a long time before reappearing in new places to create havoc. Now I’m moving into the “more” arena. This is where things get uncomfortable in my world. For example,  I think that the majority of people who live for a long while will get cancer. We actually have it every day, mutations that crop up at the genetic level but are squashed and eliminated by healthy immune systems. That is, until the mutations get tougher or the immune system gets weaker. After all my years of reading, that’s what I’ve concluded. Some treatments buy time. Others are still primitive. You don’t get to know whose body will react poorly or positively to what is attempted. Until there are wholly individual treatments that’s the way it’ll be. So where does that take me? I try to be a helper and do what I can for those I know.

I think about myself too. I have no idea when my turn might come. I think a lot about the advocacy I was able to provide for my family and most especially my husband. Will I be able to advocate well for myself if necessary? That’s one question I have no answers for at this point. I think about this stuff a lot and I try talking about it but my kids don’t like it and some friends are taken aback. They say what I know they intend to be nice, defusing comments that move rapidly away from the morbid topics. I guess that having thought about death for all the years during Michael’s illness, coupled with my longheld death anxiety from my childhood, as I watched my mom go in and out of hospitals, has locked me into what some think is the morbid side of life. To me it’s more practical than morbid. But it’s one of “those” topics that I tend to bring up that is off-putting to a lot of people. When I talk about it I’m not sad or scared or maudlin. I’m just wondering. Death is something that will happen to everyone and pondering it doesn’t stop me from living a reasonably positive daily life. But the death arena fits into the “too much” category.

The issue of my feeling Michael’s presence so often is another “more” topic. I guess it makes some people uncomfortable. Maybe they think I’m nuts. Maybe they think I’m not living a healthy life. I don’t view other people’s opinions as my problem. I’m open to sharing but am also aware that red flags pop up when I start waxing eloquent about my “ghost.” I can feel that it’s time to move on to something else, a subject more palatable for whomever is the listener.  It seems that I’ve always brought up issues that no one wants to talk about. Michael used to say that if I would only be quiet about certain topics life would be perfect. But I never believed anything was really perfect. Rather, I thought that if you kept working on problems or disturbing ideas like death, or basically anything that caused people psychological discomfort, that the process itself was almost more important than the end goal. I really enjoy thinking and discussing and sorting through virtually everything. I always thought that the more I knew about any issue, the better off I’d be. Michael, more reserved and less prone to the deep inward dives I do, loved me enough to go outside his comfort zone, sometimes kicking and screaming, into places he’d rather have ignored. In the end these explorations brought us incredibly close and gave us the stamina to go through our personal challenge that ended with his death. But what’s perfectly clear to me is that a lot of people prefer doing with less of these internal explorations into what I think are life’s and death’s fascinating mysteries. So when I bluntly bring up one of the off-limits topics, I’ll often feel the invisible hand up in my face and I know I’m supposed to be quiet. Despite the fact that I think we humans share a considerable amount of commonality in life’s essential business, talking about those things out loud just doesn’t happen enough for my taste.

There are all kinds of self-help books and advice websites about virtually everything. But say I decide to open up a sex conversation? Lots of people cut me off fast. I want to talk about how dreadful it feels for me to acknowledge that this most essential part of my life is over. I know that because I’m completely uninterested in being with anyone but Michael. But my drive isn’t dead. I’m going to miss intimacy and kissing and being touched in the way you build with bonds with another person for as long as I remain cognitive. But that’s a “less” conversation. I often wonder what other people feel and if they’re still sexually engaged but I rarely talk about this stuff because it feels like I’m crossing a social boundary line. Maybe I am.

I just think there’s comfort in sharing information and feelings that to me, must be widespread across our species. Am I outrageous? I guess some people might think that. But to me, I’m just myself. I’m still struggling with the separateness that I feel when shut down by the unwritten rules of social exchange. I just can’t stand all these implicit boundaries. Still, I have to live in the culture I occupy so I mostly abide them. More and less. Death and illness and sex are apparently for my private ruminations except for a very few people who accept me for who I am. With the others I guess I can talk about taxes and the weather. I’m glad I still feel Michael so strongly inside me. I can still talk to him about anything and he knows I’m living in real time. With a vengeance. Another thing he always told me was that he thought I was very polite to ask him his opinion on an issue when we both knew I would do exactly what I wanted to no matter what he thought. Still valid. Ultimately, I really don’t care what anyone thinks about my choices. But I’m pretty sure they’d like them if they gave me a chance to say more.

More and Less The other day I exchanged messages with a friend I’ve never seen. We met in an online Merkel Cell cancer support group.

[sandstonesunspear]

The Budling, part 4

Or alternatively known as: The fourth, and final, part of that obligatory accidental baby acquisition fic

Alright, here’s the last part of the Budling Arc. Chronicles of the Starship DEO will still be on going as think of prompts, they get delivered to me, or I find something in the Space Pirate Alex tags. Hope you all enjoy this.

Oh, and @queercapwriting, I borrowed Adrian a bit for this piece. Hope you don’t mind.

- 

5 Years Later…

-

Alex and her crew had encountered countless planets during their seven-year voyage across space. Garden worlds that looked wonderfully tempting until scans came back and revealed just what kind of death trap they were. Gas giants whose inhabitants made up for a lack of usable real estate with exquisite space stations. Asteroid belts that hid nomadic flotillas. And yet, none of those compared to the sight before them. Earth. They were finally home.

Or at least, almost home.

Alex stood on the bridge staring out the viewscreen. For once, the bridge was silent, aside from the hum of the DEO and the occasional beep of a console. Everyone quietly worked away, but the usual focus that her crew possessed was nowhere to be found. Alex couldn’t find it in herself to be mad. She understood. Seven years, they had traveled across the stars. Seven years of fighting, of dying. Now, it was almost over.

“ETA to Earth, two hours, Captain,” Bob spoke up. His voice was soft. He quietly thanked the twin gods of Romulus that Alex had seen fit to choose him as her helmsman. It meant that he had one of the best views on the ship of the approaching planet.

Alex nodded. She reached behind herself and accessed the communications console. “Attention, crew of the DEO, we’re officially two hours out from Earth.” The words sounded surreal outloud. “Prepare yourselves accordingly. Repeat, ETA to Earth is two hours.” A pause. “We’re almost home, everyone. Danvers out.”

She took a breath. She pulled up her phone and accessed codes that she had waited seven years to use.

“Reinhart?”

They were by her side in an instant. “Yes, Captain?”

“Open hailing frequencies and begin broadcasting.” She handed them her phone. “Use those to narrow the band. We need the DEO to know we’re finally back.”

“Understood, Captain.” Reinhart carefully took the phone from her, knowing just how important it was. “I’ll begin right away.”

Alex nodded. “Good.” She looked around and took stock of her crew. “I’m going to pick up Astra. If anyone needs me from here until our arrival, ping my comm badge.”

Various crew members voiced their acknowledgement. No one was going to protest Alex stepping away from the bridge. In the years since Sameen’s death, Alex had developed into a doting parent.

-

Astra was looking into a microscope, a little frown etched firmly on their face when Alex walked into the medbay. Both they and Zar’ya, who was standing behind them, looked up when the doors hissed open. Astra’s eyes lit up at the sight of their par.

“Alex-par!” Astra leapt off the stood and ran to her. They grabbed her hand and tugged her over to the microscope.

Alex laughed. “Good to see you too, doodlebug,” she said. “Hey, Zar’ya.”

Zar’ya tipped her head in greeting. She smiled at the sight of Alex being dragged by their adopted child.

Astra gently shoved Alex to the scope. “Alex-par, look!”

Alex gave Astra an amused smile, but complied. Her smile vanished moments later.

“Hey doodlebug, just what exactly am I looking at here?”

Astra bounced excitedly. “Zar’ya called it ye-selena pes-to!” They announced proudly.

Yeselena pesto? That didn’t sound like any disease she’d ever heard of. She focused the microscope again. She frowned. Wait. Alex pulled her eyes away from the microscope. She turned to give Zar’ya a look of disbelief.

“You have my kid looking at plague?!” Where did she even get a sample? Alex didn’t know which part she had to worry about more: the fact that Astra was looking at plague, or the fact that, somehow, Zar’ya had managed to get her hands on a sample while in space.

Zar’ya laughed. “It’s only a microscopic model, Captain,” she assured. “Besides, there are far worse diseases on Earth.”

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why would you think that showing a child a model, even a microscopic model, of a disease responsible for wiping out large swaths of humankind was a good idea?”

Zar’ya shrugged. “I thought it would be best to prepare Astra for Earth-illnesses.” She looked down at Astra, who grinned in response.

Alex fought the urge to faceplam. Of all the… She had to admit that it wasn’t the worst idea anyone on the ship ever had, especially when one took the DEO’s tract record into account. The situations that faced a space pirate meant that Alex was very open minded about Astra’s education. Over the years, the Saurian had been taught basic first aid (courtesy of Alex and Zar’ya), stellar navigation (courtesy of Bob), various languages (thanks to Reinhart’s constant code switching), and how to fight (courtesy of the crew at large, and something that Alex had agonised over for months). Why shouldn’t rare infectious diseases be a part of that education?

“Just…maybe a head’s up next time, yeah?” Alex let out a breath. “That way we don’t incite panic by having microscopic models of deadly diseases because everyone thinks it’s the real thing?”

“I will make a note.” A beat. “You realise that your request is unnecessary, given that we’re approaching Earth, right?”

“It’ll cut down on future paperwork.” Was Alex’s simple reply.

Ah. Zar’ya nodded. “Fair enough.” She’d forgotten about the paperwork that would most likely be awaiting all of them when the ship finally touched down.

“Come on, bug, time for you to clean your plates,” Alex said.

Astra huffed. “Clean already, Alex-par!” they protested. They’d taken a bath the night before.

Alex sighed. Astra’s opposition to baths was a recent thing. No one had any idea where it had come from. She took their hand and gently led them out of the medbay. “You smell, bug,” she teased.

Zar’ya shook her head in amusement. She, like the rest of the crew, was well-aware of Astra’s recent distaste for getting clean. She heard Astra trying to negotiate with Astra and smiled as the doors closed behind them.

-

“Head plates only, Alex-par!”

Alex shook her head. “Nope, all your plates, Astra.”

Astra stomped their foot as they made their way back to Alex’s quarters. “Head plates!” they tried again.

Alex simply raised eyebrow in response. If she was being honest, she found Astra’s attempts to get out of bathing to be endearing. A smile rose slightly. It reminded her of how Kara had vehemently opposed to having to do anything with water shortly after her arrival to earth.

“You have to clean all your plates, bug,” she said. “Keeps them from getting itchy, remember?”

Astra huffed. They didn’t want to clean their plates, though. “No!” they protested.

Alex sighed and stopped. She knelt down and gently placed a hand on their face. “I hear you, bug, but you have to,” she said. “It’s a health and safety matter. You can’t get off the ship with dirty plates.”

The close quarters of the DEO meant that proper hygiene was absolute must for everyone on board, even her youngest inhabitant. The last thing Alex wanted was for Astra to be whisked away to DEO’s quarantine unit because something had stuck itself to their plates.

Astra huffed again. They kicked at the floor, hating how Alex was right. “Okay…” they relented. “But you help with back plates?”

Alex laughed. “Of course.”

-

Earth

Winn was frowning at the screen in front of him. Something was different about the numbers in front of him, he just didn’t know what. He grumbled and entered another line of code. Maybe this’ll fix it.

He yelped when the computer pinged. His eyes widened. He stared at the screen.  There’s no way. He shot out of his seat, startling some of the newer agents around him. He paid them no heed. I’ve got to get to J’onn! He bolted.

-

Winn came sliding into the DEO’s bullpen with a panicked shout of, “J’onn!”

J’onn looked up. “Yes, Agent Schott?” he replied calmly. He could make out disbelief and nervous anticipation coming from the young man. He fought the urge to rub his head at the psychic noise.

“You need to hear this.” Winn rushed over to one of the consoles. He shoved Vasquez out of the way, garnering an indignant, “Hey!” for his efforts. He ignored it. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he pulled up the transmission.

“We are the Starship DEO. We mean you no harm. We are Captained by Dr. Alexandra Danvers.” The message declared. Eyes widened throughout the room. “If this message is being received by the DEO, we request permission to land. Repeat: We are the Starship DEO…”

Winn cut the transmission, waiting for J’onn’s response.

“Is it legitimate?” J’onn demanded.

Winn glanced at Vasquez, who accessed the console and cross-checked the codes. After a few moments, they looked up and gave J’onn a nod.

“The transmission is coming over channel 15.6.9b, sir,” they said. It was a frequency accessible only to members of the DEO and their few, trusted affiliates. It hadn’t been used in years, not since Alex’s departure, having been relegated as a backup emergency line.

“Do we have any idea where it came from?” he asked.

More typing, this time, from Winn. “Transmission’s pinging just beyond the moon.” A few more keystrokes. “I have a location of the ship.”

“Pull it up, Agent Schott.” Almost immediately, agents of the DEO were greeted with a stellar map. A single icon pulsed just beyond the moon, as Winn had said.

J’onn closed his eyes. His adopted daughter was almost finally back. He took a breath.

“Alright, people, get to your stations,” he ordered. “Agent Vasquez, contact the desert base to let them know that a ship with be landing in their area in several hours. I want medical and response teams standing by. Agent Schott, hail them back and give them the coordinates for the desert base. Tell them that they are to land there, or risk being shot out of the sky.”

As soon as J’onn stopped talking, people immediately rushed to comply. He nodded. He turned on his heel to make his exit, only to be stopped by Winn.

“Uh, J’onn, where are you going?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “To let Supergirl and Detective Sawyer know that Agent Danvers is almost home, Agent Schott.”

-

Starship DEO

Astra exited the small shower stall in Alex’s quarters. “Clean, Alex-par!” they announced happily. Steam trailed off of their plates as they walked over to Alex.

Alex looked up from her reports to see Astra coming towards her. A stack of datapads sat next her. She grabbed the towel.

“Alrighty then, doodlebug, you know the drill.” Astra stopped in front of her. Excess water running down their plates, forming a little puddle under their feet. They lifted their arms up and laughed loudly as Alex began the process of toweling them off. She was mindful of their plates, knowing that while they grew harder each day, they were still somewhat delicate.

After a few minutes, Alex tossed the towel towards her chair. “Good?”

Astra wiggled. They stomped around, checking to see if any more water fell from them. When nothing did, they examined their plates, running their small claws over little groves. Dry. They patted themselves down. They nodded and looked to Alex.

“Good, par!”

Alex nodded. She stood and grabbed Astra’s suit. She held it up. “Need help or try on your own?” They were capable of dressing themselves, but still had a tendency to get stuck pulling on their suit, especially after a shower.

“On my own,” Astra said firmly. They took the small, Saurian sized suit from Alex and set to work putting it on. It was a gift from Kessel and Reinhart several months prior. It, alone with a veritable fashion line of Saurian-friendly clothing, had been gladly welcomed by Alex.

While Astra got dressed, Alex got to work making herself presentable. She grabbed a henly off the back of her chair and sniffed it. It smelled like gun oil and spices, a result of her being on cooking duty after a day of weapon’s maintenance. She shrugged. There were worse things to smell like. She pulled it on.

‘Alex-par?’

Astra’s tentative mental voice caught her by surprise. They rarely used telepathic communication, having hit the stage in their youth cycle where they preferred to try their hand at verbal communication. For Astra to reach out mentally meant that something was bothering them.

Alex tilted her head. ‘What’s up, bug?’

Astra shifted nervously behind her. ‘Almost at Ee-arth, yes?’

‘Yeah, bug.’ Alex paused. ‘That’s not what’s bothering you, though, is it?’

More nervous shuffling. Alex turned to face them. She knelt down. ‘What is it, Astra?’

‘What if your Ee-arth family doesn’t like me?’ They rushed out.

Alex’s eyes softened. ‘They’re going to love you, bug,’ she replied. Of that, she had no doubt. Her mother would undoubtedly have her criticisms, but afterwards she would more than likely gush and dote on her new grandchild. J’onn would huff and puff, but the thought of having an adopted grandchild would soften him right up. James and Winn most likely wouldn’t even blink an eye to the newest addition of the Superfriends. Kara would be over the moon about her nibling; Alex could always ply her with food if she wasn’t.

Astra trilled. ‘What if Maggie doesn’t like me?’

Inwardly, Alex winced. That was the million credit question. There was only one reaction she couldn’t predict, and that was Maggie’s. Sure, the DEO had sent off a few data packets over the years, but no one had any idea if they reached Earth. And none of them contained images of Astra, for obvious reasons. Children were something she and Maggie had discussed, but only in passing. Alex would have liked to think that Maggie would welcome Astra, but it had been seven years. She knew better than anyone else how time could change a person.

Alex sighed. “I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how Maggie will react, kiddo,” she admitted aloud. Astra looked distressed as her response, so she continued. “But, what I do know,” And remember. “Is that Maggie has a very big heart.” She thought about Adrian and how much Maggie cared for him, even though they shared no blood.

Astra made a noise of distress. ‘Don’t want you to hurt.’

Alex gently knocked her knuckles against their forehead plates. “Hey, you and me, we’re a package deal now, bug,” she said. “I can’t be with someone who can’t, or won’t accept that.” She tilted her head to the side and gave Astra a small smile. “I’ll be okay.”

Astra hummed. “Okay, par.” They reached out. “Hug now?”

Alex laughed. “Of course.” She pulled them into a hug. She closed her eyes. She could only pray that everything went well.

“Bridge to Captain Danvers,” Reinhart’s voice broke the moment.

Alex looked up. “Danvers here. What is it, Reinhart?”

“We’re ten minutes out, Captain, and we have an incoming transmission from Earth.”

An incoming transmission? Alex frowned. Did that mean that the DEO received their hails?

“I’ll be right there.”

“Roger that. Bridge out.”

Alex looked down at Astra. She reached out and fixed their hood. “You ready, kiddo?”

Astra bounced eagerly, all traces of their apprehension wiped away by the hug. “Ready, par!”

She held her hand out. “Alright, let’s go.”

-

Alex entered the bridge, hand in hand with Astra. Lyra was the first to notice their entrance. She snapped to attention.

“Captain on the bridge!”

Everyone quickly followed suit, much to Alex’s exasperation. Yes, she was the ship’s Captain, but she had never been one for formality in the first place. Her time in space had taught her that there was a time and place for it, like during First Contact-ish situations, but this wasn’t one them.

“At ease.” She gave Lyra a mildly reproachful look. “Really?”

Lyra gave her a cheeky smile in return. “Figured I’d do it one last time, you know, for old time’s sake.”

Alex just sighed. Astra tugged at her hand, drawing her attention. They pointed at Kessel and tilted their head in question. Alex gave them a small nod and let them go. Astra walked over to Kessel, who promptly picked them up, eliciting loud squeals from the tiny Saurian.

She smiled slightly at the noise before refocusing on her crew. “You said we had an incoming transmission, Reinhart. From who?”

“Earth, Captain,” they replied. “The embedded codes match the ones you gave me.”

Which means the message is from the DEO. “Play the transmission.”

Reinhart’s accessed the communications console. Everyone waited with a bated breath. Then,

“Attention Starship DEO, we have received your hail.” Cheers broke out. Alex couldn’t stop the grin that broke across her face. “Proceeded to the embedded coordinates; failure to comply will result in the destruction of your ship.” The cheers died down a little at that. Alex just shook her head, smile still on her face. “Repeat: Attention Starship DEO, we have received your hail…”

Reinhart cut the channel. They looked at Alex expectantly. “Next move, Captain?”

Alex looked around at her crew. She stepped towards the galaxy map, arms clasped behind her back. She turned her gaze towards Earth.

“Our next move is that we continue on our course,” she replied after a while. “Radio down and let the DEO know that we’re complying with their request.” She glanced at Bob. “Adjust our heading accordingly, Bob.”

Bob nodded. “Inputting new coordinates at once, Captain.”

Alex gave him a nod. She moved to the Captain’s Chair and sat, closing her eyes. Noise exploded around her as everyone rushed to get to their stations and ready the ship for its final approach. This was it. We’re almost home.

-

Earth, DEO Desert Base

Director Lucy Lane looked at the sky. Dressed to the nines in black despite the desert heat, she, and the rest of her colleagues, made for an intimidating sight. Around her, agents milled about checking weapons or exchanging water bottles. To the casual observer, it looked like any other training exercise. To those currently present, the tension was palpable.

“Director Lane.”

Years of training kept Lucy from visibly flinching at the voice coming up from behind her. She instead offered a casual glance over her shoulder.

“Director Henshaw,” she greeted.

He stopped next to her. He glanced upwards. “Any word?”

“We have confirmation from the Starship DEO that they will be landing in this area.”

“ETA?” J’onn worked to keep his voice neutral. As a Martian, time was something he had in abundance. But it had been seven years. seven long years of not knowing if his adopted daughter was still alive. He had already lost his wife and children once. To lose his found family, even just one member, was an unbearable thought.

“Thirty minutes.” 30 minutes until she would finally see her fellow agent. 30 minutes until her friend finally got to stand on Earth. 30 minutes until six years of anguish and anger finally came to an end.

Lucy looked past J’onn to see the Superfriends gathered. James was decked out in his Guardian ensemble, not willing to leave anything to chance. Winn, for once, had forgone his usual cardigan in exchange for some lightweight armor that she recognized as coming from R&D. Kara and Maggie stood side by side, arms folded. Both shared twin looks of nervous anticipation. Lucy couldn’t blame them. She barely begin to imagine what they were feeling. Lucy could at least call and talk to Vasquez when they pulled shifts at the National City headquarters. And despite the animosity between her and Lois, she knew her sister was only a plane ride or a phone call away, deployments notwithstanding.

“Pam’s here too,” J’onn spoke up.

Lucy chuckled. Of course she was. “Armed to the teeth with a stack of NDAs and Alex’s extremely overdue DD17.5’s?” She was only partially joking.

“Of course.” Was J’onn’s amused reply. In fact, upon hearing the news that Alex was only hours away, Pam had marched straight down to the bullpen and demanded that she join the retrieval party. The piles of documents ferried by rookie agents gave him a moment of pause until he saw the look in her eyes. It promised a hellish amount of paperwork if her request was denied. J’onn, being a smarter Martian than most, did not want to incur the wrath of the head of his HR department and promptly stood aside.

Both Directors fell into an easy silence.

-

Maggie ran her fingers through her hair for the umpteenth time that hour. Out of all of the Superfriends, she was the one most likely to keep her cool during stressful situations. Her years as a cop had made it so. And yet, the fact that Alex, her lover, her ride or die partner, her best friend, was only 30 minutes out was enough to reduce her to a nervous wreck.

What if she found someone out there? What if too much time has passed? What if…?

A gentle hand on her shoulder snapped her out of her panicked ‘What ifs?’ Kara’s concerned gaze met hers.

“Alex loves you, Maggie. Space won’t have changed that.” She said it so earnestly that Maggie couldn’t help but smile. She wanted to believe Kara, but Maggie knew better than anyone in their group the kind of strain time and distance put on a relationship.

She took a breath and closed her eyes. Worrying about it now wouldn’t change anything. Right now, she had to focus. Alex was almost here. She’s almost home.

-

Starship DEO

“Preparing for final descent,” Bob announced. The DEO lurched moments later as she entered the Earth’s atmosphere. The ship groaned in response.

Alex grunted. “Easy, Bob, let’s not break her in half before we land, shall we?” She grimaced the DEO picked up speed. The roar of superheated metal making contact with the Earth’s atmosphere echoed inside the bridge. “I said easy, Bob!”

“Making necessary adjustments!” Bob’s fingers were a blur as he worked to stabilise the ship. “Reinhart?”

“Redirecting power to shields and inertial dampeners!” They called back. The console before them sparked angrily. They yelped.

The shaking grew worse. “Reinhart!” Alex barked out. In her arms, Astra whimpered in fear.

‘Alex-par!’

She tucked them close. ‘I’ve got you, doodlebug. It’s just a rough entry; it’ll be okay.’ As if just to spite her words, emergency klaxons began blaring. Oh for fuck’s sake. She pulled up the report using the Captain’s Chair console. Dammit. There wasn’t enough power available to balance the systems.

Alex slapped the communications panel. “Bridge to Engineering!”

“Engineering here!” Belen’s voice crackled through.

“Belen, have your teams redirect power from all non-critical systems to shields and inertial dampeners!” Alex shouted over the roar.

“Captain, the only area we can pull from at this point would be hydroponics!”

Sweat started to bead along Alex’s forehead as the ship continued to plunge. Sirens screamed around her. Astra burrowed themselves deeper into her chest, trying to block out the noise.

“Do it!” Normally, Alex wouldn’t even attempt to take power from hydroponics because the area was so important to the livelihood of the crew. But right now, she had no choice. If they didn’t get the necessary power to shields and inertial dampeners, they would all cook and the ship would break apart.

“Roger that, Captain! Stand by for power redistribution!”

“Lyra,” she called over her shoulder. “Radio down to the DEO and let them know that there’s a chance we might be coming in hot!”

“At once, Captain!”

Alex’s free hand dug into the armrest of the Captain’s Chair. Her other arm clutched Astra even tighter. The Saurian didn’t complain. They welcomed the pressure.

Come on, come on. No way in hell was Alex going to die up here. She hadn’t fought her way across the galaxy just to die in a fiery ball of doom miles above her home. No, she had fought tooth and nail, sacrificed her arm, and watched countless members of her crew perish in order to make it home. She was coming home to Kara, to Maggie, to J’onn, to the rest of her family, no matter what.

The shaking stopped. Crew members were sent flying as the inertial dampeners finally kicked in. The roar of flames fell silent as shields came on line.

“Engineering to Bridge.”

Alex let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. She tapped the console. “Bridge here, Danvers speaking.”

“Power was successfully redirected, Captain,” Belen reported. “Shields and dampeners should be up now.”

“They are,” Alex assured. “I can confirm that shields and inertial dampeners are up and working.”

“Roger that. We’ll keep working down here to make sure it stays that way. Engineering out.”

The resounding click of the communications channel echoed throughout the bridge. They all exchanged looks. Alex cleared her throat.

“Shall we continue?” She smiled as her question was met with a sea of nods. “Alright, let’s finish this, Bob.”

“Of course, Captain.” Bob worked to pull up their initial heading. The failure of the DEO’s shields and inertial dampeners had knocked them off track by a few miles, but that would be easily remedied. He input the necessary corrections. “30 seconds to touchdown.”

Alex leaned back. This is it.

-  

Earth, DEO Desert Base

The sight of several hundred tonne alien freighter plummeting from the skies was a sight J’onn could have desperately done without. At first, nothing had seemed amiss. Then a panicked voice had come over their radio channels informing them that the DEO was experiencing severe mechanical issues. Only his quick reflexes and strong hand kept Kara from intercepting the ship. He knew that a speeding Kryptonian’s hands meeting a hunk of metal falling at terminal velocity would not end well.

And so, the gathered Superfriends and agents had be left to helplessly watch as the freighter holding Alex plunged to the ground. The collective anxiety coursing through everyone’s veins wasn’t helped by the fact that whoever had been on the radio hadn’t turned it off on their end. They could only listen to Alex shouting orders. It felt like an eternity. And then, cheering. Not from the agents or the Superfriends, but from the radio. It was followed by Alex’s rather nonchalant comment, “Shall we continue where we left off?”

It drew a laugh from Kara as everyone exchanged looks of relief. J’onn exhaled sharply. He rubbed his temples. Alex wasn’t even on the ground yet and already he could feel a headache building. His movement didn’t go unnoticed by Lucy. She snickered.

The loud bellow of stabilizing thrusters drew everyone’s attention back to the sky. Arms went up to protect eyes and faces as dust began to billow around them. The sun vanished behind the profile of the freighter. The air grew cold as the ship slowly, but surely, lowered itself to the earth. After a few incredibly loud seconds, it finally touched the ground, sending dirt and debris flying. Winn’s loud yelp hit J’onn’s ears. A muffled thump followed moments later. He shook his head.

The dust and wind died down. Arms followed. There, in all her battered glory, was the Starship DEO. Silence reigned.

-

Starship DEO

Alex and her crew gathered in the cargo bay. It had never been this full, but no one complained about the cramped quarters. Hushed murmurs in a dozen languages filled the air.

Kessel appeared next to Alex. He leaned against a crate he deemed to be his and cuffed her hard in the shoulder.

“You gonna say something to them, Captain?” he asked gruffy.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. She looked up at him. “You think I should?”

Kessel just gave her a look. She sighed. To be honest, Alex had no idea what she was going to say. She’d envisioned this moment for years. Returning to Earth had been the driving ideal for her crew and now, barely anyone could scarcely believe they had made it.

Alex closed her eyes. What can I say? The answer came just as quickly as the question had: the truth; they were finally home.

She opened her eyes and moved to climb up Kessel’s crate, ignoring his huff as she did so. She whistled loudly to get everyone’s attention. A sea of faces turned towards her. Alex could hardly believe that the people before her were the same people she had left Earth with seven years ago.

“Well, I’m not going to lie, it’s taken a great deal for us to get here,” she started. “We lost a lot of good people.” Like Sameen. “But we also made some good friends.” She grinned at Kessel, who whooped loudly, drawing laughs. “Over the last seven years, the universe has come to know who we are, what we stand for, what Earth stands for.”

Alex had to take a breath, her voice catching in her throat. “I never could have made it back without any of you. The past seven years have been rough, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Thank you, for having me as your Captain. I’m honored to have served alongside each and every one of you.” She tried to discreetly wipe her eyes. “I guess what I’m trying to say is in a really roundabout way is, we’re finally home.”

Cheers broke out. The noise was deafening. Alex didn’t mind. She smiled, sharing in their joy. She leapt down, unnoticed to all but Kessel. He gave her an approving nod.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Captain,” he grunted.

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the shoulder. Lyra came up beside her. Alex glanced at her.

“I just realised, I forgot to issue disembarking instructions!” she shouted over the din. “You know who’s getting off first?”

Lyra gave Alex a look that suggested she had brain damage. “You’re kidding, right?” At Alex’s confused look, she sighed. She signalled to Kessel to get everyone to quiet down once again. An ear-piercing whistle rang out moments later. Silence followed quickly on its heels.

Lyra cleared her throat. “Who here objects to Captain Danvers being the first one off this ship?”

If any crickets had been aboard the DEO, they would be the only things filling the silence.

“Raise your hand if you think Captain Danvers should be the first one off this ship?” A sea of hands was her answer.

She turned back to Alex. Alex tried to protest but a raised eyebrow from Lyra made her fall silent.

“Are you sure?”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Is everyone here absolutely sure that they’re okay with Captain Danvers being the first one off this ship?”

A loud, resounding, “Yes!” followed her question. She glanced at Alex. “Well, Captain? Your crew has spoken.”

It was hard to argue with that. Alex felt Astra take her hand. The Saurians eyes shone with a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and nerves. They shuffled nervously. She knelt down and looked them in the eye.

‘You ready, doodlebug?’

Astra nodded. ‘Ready, Alex-par.’

Alex stood. She dusted her worn black jeans with her free hand. It was a means to both try and make herself look a little more presentable and to buy herself little more time to gather herself. She looked down at Astra and nodded. The crew parted around them as the two made their way towards the cargo bay doors.

They stopped before the doors. Giant, looming slabs of steel were now the only things separating Alex and her crew from home. She glanced at Bob and gave him a curt nod.

“Open her up, Bob.”

Bob slapped his claws against the override button. The hiss of containment seals deactivating filled the air. Slowly, the doors of the cargo bay unsealed themselves and began to unfurl. After several agonizing moments, they hit the dry desert ground with a resounding thud.

Alex brought her arm up to shield her eyes from the harsh desert sunlight. She squinted. A blur caught her attention. Before she could react, 160 pounds of Kryptonian sunshine slammed into her. It was followed by a rib crushing hug. Alex froze for half a second before melting. She returned the hug, squeezing back as hard as she could. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She was finally home.

-

Earth

The silence following the fall of the ship’s doors was deafening to Kara. No one dared to move, let alone speak. Then Kara heard it. Alex’s heartbeat. It was a sound she hadn’t heard in years, but it wasn’t something she would ever forget. Before anyone could stop her, Kara was off like a shot.

Within seconds, Kara was on the gangplank. She collided with Alex, careful not to knock her over. A beat later and her arms wrapped around her sister. She felt Alex’s arms settle around her. She breathed in deep. The scent of gun oil and antiseptic filled her nose. It was an aroma that was so uniquely Alex. Kara choked back tears that had risen, unbidden.

“I’m here, Kara,” Alex murmured. She pressed her nose into Kara’s hair. If sunshine had a smell, Kara would be it. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” Kara began to sob in earnest. “I’ve got you.”

It was their phrase. Just like the words, “Ride or die,” were Maggie’s way of telling Alex that she was in for the long haul, the phrase, “I’ve got you,” may as well have been Alex’s way of saying El Mayarah. Stronger together. How many nights had she held a shivering Kara all the while murmuring these words?

Kara slowly started to gather herself. She pulled away and wiped her eyes. She took in her sister. The years had not been kind to Alex. She looked older, but that was to be expected. She had a new scar, just above her eyebrow. It looked like it had been made by a gauntleted fist. Kara bit back a sigh. Knowing Alex, it was. Alex’s hair had been cropped short. It fluffed around in the desert breeze. The mechanical arm she had seen in vids had definitely seen better days. It was an amalgamation of scuff marks, parts whose original purpose had long since been tossed to space, and etchings in numerous languages. The sight of it filled Kara with overwhelming sadness. What else had Alex sacrificed during her time in space?

A nervous rustle caught Kara’s attention. She looked past Alex to see a tiny alien, a Saurian if she remembered correctly, clinging tightly to her sister’s leg. The poor thing looked terrified.

Kara bent down. “Well hi, who’re you?” she asked.

The Saurian hid behind Alex. Alex clucked her tongue.

“Hey, none of that, bug,” she gently scolded. She shot Kara a nervous look. “Kara, this is Astra, your...nibling?” It came out as more of a question than she intended it to, but she didn't really have any other term to describe Astra.

Astra? “You named her Astra?” Kara asked in disbelief.

“Them,” Alex corrected. “And yeah. Figured it would be a good name for a kid born in the stars.” And a good way for me to make up for all the lives I've taken.

She glanced down at Astra. “Astra, this is Kara, my sister. Your aunt.” Kara eyes welled up with more tears. Alex immediately began backtracking at the sight of them. “I mean, if she's okay with that.”

If I'm okay with that? Was Alex serious? “Of course I'm okay with that!” Kara knelt. The action drew Astra partially from behind Alex. “I’d love to be their aunt! But only Astra here’s good with having me.”

Alex and Astra shared a look. She gave them an encouraging smile. She wouldn't push them; it was up to them, after all.

Astra slowly moved from behind their par. They looked over the alien before them. They remembered her laugh. It was warm, like the sun above them. They could tell Alex loved her, like she had bud-par. They slowly approached Kara, who was careful not to make any sudden movements. Astra silently wrapped their arms around her. The joy brought about by their hug crashed through like a wave. They burrowed into her chest. She matches her smile.

Kessel loudly sniffled behind the three of them. A trumpet-like noise sounded moments later.

Astra pulled away. They looked up Alex and nodded. Her shoulders fell ever so slightly in relief. Now there was only more reaction to test.

Kara stood. She looked at her sister. She could see the anxiety starting to build in her. She glanced back down at Astra.

“You know, there’s a whole group of people waiting to meet you,” she said to them. “You want to go meet them?”

Astra nodded. They took Kara’s hand and moved to walk down the gangplank. They paused when they noticed Alex wasn’t following.

“Coming, Alex-par?” they asked, head tilted to the side. The sight made Kara want to aww at the cuteness of it all, but she managed to restrain herself.

“I'll be right there, bug,” she replied.

Astra nodded. They looked up to Kara and tugged her hand. They wanted to go meet the rest of their par’s family.

Alex glanced over her shoulder to her crew. They stood, waiting. She raised an eyebrow at them.

“Just because I'm the first one off the ship doesn't mean that y'all have to wait, you know?” she remarked. No one moved. She sighed. “Dismissed everyone. Get off the ship. Food and families are waiting.” Alex paused when she saw the glint in Kessel’s eyes. She fixed him with a glare. “And don't punch out the DEO agents.”

Alex turned away and moved to join Kara and Astra. Her crew followed behind her, Kessel and Lyra at the head of the group. She didn’t look back. Her gaze had been drawn to the waiting DEO agents and Superfriends. She took a breath to gather herself. Come on, Danvers. There would be no more putting this off. Her family was waiting.

-

Alex and Kara headed towards the Superfriends together. Astra was clinging to Kara’s shoulders, serving as a makeshift cape. Neither sister said a word. Their boots crunched in tandem through the sand. As they drew closer, Alex grew more and more apprehensive. Maggie hasn’t seen me in seven years. What if she doesn’t like what she sees?

Kara could sense Alex’s apprehension. She bumped her shoulder into Alex’s, catching her attention.

“Maggie’s just as nervous as you are, you know,” she said conversationally.

Alex stuttered to a stop.

Kara rolled her eyes. She motioned towards the waiting group. Alex followed with her eyes. There, at the front of the group, stood Maggie. Her heart stopped. From a distance, Maggie hadn’t changed much. She was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket that Alex was certain had originally belonged to her, prior to her departure. Alex had never seen a more breathtaking sight.

Kara gently shoved her sister. “Don’t keep your lady waiting!” she admonished.

Alex gave Kara an uncertain look. She didn’t want to leave her sister or her child behind just so she could get to Maggie sooner.

“Go, par!” Astra piped up from behind Kara’s shoulder.

Kara gave Alex a look. “You heard them,” she teased. “Now get going!”

Alex didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled ahead of Kara and Astra. There was no going back. She shut out the part of herself that was voicing its doubts. She had fought for seven years and traveled across the galaxy just to be able to hold Maggie in her arms again.

-

It turned out that Kara was right and that Alex needn’t have been worried. Maggie met her halfway. She pulled Alex into a crushing hug. Alex pressed her nose into Maggie’s hair. Gunpowder and spices. It was an scent that had lurked on the edges of her memory for years. It was so uniquely Maggie.

Alex let out a muffled sob and shut her eyes. She held Maggie tighter. Please let this be real. How many times had she dreamed of this over the years? How many nights had she awoken, expecting Maggie to be laying next to her only to be met with metal walls and cold sheets?

Maggie wasn’t fairing much better. It was surreal. Alex was finally back in her arms. She was here. Maggie wanted to pinch herself, just to make sure that this wasn’t a cruel dream.

Alex eventually pulled away, but only slightly. She took in the woman before her. Maggie had changed very little. There were a few more lines around her eyes. Her eyes were weary and spoke tales of grief and anguish, but the love in them was still there. With each passing second, the grief faded. In its place was a bright, disbelieving happiness.

“Hi,” Alex croaked out. “Miss me?”

It was such an Alex statement. Maggie couldn’t help it. She laughed. The sound warmed Alex’s heart. She’d missed hearing Maggie’s laugh.

“Yeah, I missed you, Danvers,” Maggie said, trying her best to act as if she wasn’t as teary-eyed as her lover. “It’s been seven years.” A sad smile.

“I know.” Seven long years of fighting off raiders, slavers, and other galactic malcontents. Seven long years of waking up alone. Seven years of sleepless nights, wondering if she would ever make it home.

Maggie placed a hand on Alex’s cheek. “Your entire body’s regenerated in that time, you know.” She stepped even closer. She ran her thumb across Alex’s cheek. “I’ve never touched this you before.”

Alex’s heart stopped. For one terrifying second, she thought that Maggie believed that too much time had passed, that things were too different. Then, she felt Maggie’s lips on hers. Her eyes fluttered shut. She tangled her fingers through Maggie’s hair and pulled her close. She deepened the kiss, pouring as much emotion as she could into it. It was desperate and hard and would undoubtedly leave the both of them a bit bruised, but neither one cared. Dreams and memories could only do so much. They were nothing compared to reality. The world slowly slipped away as Maggie kissed her back. Tears rolled down their cheeks unnoticed. In this moment, nothing else mattered; it was just the two of them.

Eventually, air became an issue. They broke apart, breathing heavily. Tear tracks were visible on both of their face. Alex mustered a grin at the sight of Maggie’s swollen lips and flushed face. She pressed her forehead down against Maggie’s.

“So…I’m taking that to mean you definitely missed me?” she asked. “‘Cause that’s what I got from that.”

Maggie rolled her eyes playfully. “Yeah,” she chuckled. “I definitely missed you, you nerd.”

They settled into an easy silence. No one dared to approach the two, allowing them their time together. The silence was broken by a shy, ‘Alex-par?’

Maggie jumped, not expecting the mental intrusion. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Out of habit, Alex played dumb. She wanted to kick herself almost as soon as the words left her mouth.

Maggie wasn’t fooled. She gave Alex a look.

Alex folded faster than a paper plate loaded with gravy. “That was um…” She trailed off. Kara walked up to the two of them, Astra still clinging firmly to her shoulders. They peeked up from around her neck.

‘She’s Maggie?’ Astra asked, curious.

Maggie’s eyebrows went up. She vaguely recognised the kind of alien holding onto Kara. A Saurian, if she remembered correctly. The crew manifest from the freighter listed one on aboard at the time of its departure, but the Saurian before her looked much too young to be the same one.

“Yeah, doodlebug, she’s Maggie,” Alex replied aloud. She glanced nervously at her lover. “Um, so, Mag’s, remember how we discussed kids?” Just rip the band-aid off, Danvers.

She did. The conversation hadn’t amounted to anything solid. It had mainly just been the two of them speaking in hypotheticals. At the time, they already kind of had Adrian and his never ending collection of queer strays.

“This is Astra.” Alex motioned to the young Saurian. “My kid. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” The last time Maggie had checked, cross-species couplings were definitely a thing, but having a child result from said coupling usually was not. It could happen, but not easily and not without serious risk.

“Their budding parent was a member of my crew,” Alex explained. “Their original partner wasn’t onboard and needed someone to help the process along. So I volunteered.”

Maggie’s eyes softened. Of course she had. Despite how gruff and aloof Alex tried to portray herself, she had a heart of gold and a self-sacrifice streak a mile wide.

“And then Astra’s budding parent, Sameen, died and I ended up stepping in full time,” Alex finished lamely. It wasn’t the best explanation, but she didn’t want to dump the full story on Maggie out in public. She would much rather wait until they were home. “I probably should have opened with the fact that I have a kid now instead of going in and kissing you but I just--”

“Danvers?”

Alex’s mouth clicked shut. Astra giggled at how flustered their par had become around the tiny human lady.

Maggie gave her fond look. “Did you really think I’d say no to you just because you came back with a kid after all this time?”

Alex recognized a verbal trap when she saw one. “Ahh…”

Maggie shook her head in exasperation. “I’d like to think that kids were always part of the plan, Danvers. So we accelerated our schedule a little,” She shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“You’re really okay with this?” Alex asked.

Maggie smiled. “I am.”

Astra picked that moment to drop down from Kara’s shoulders. The muffled thump they made caught the attention of the three of them. Astra approached Maggie, who crouched down. They stood in front of her.

‘Alex-par likes you,’ Astra said matter of factly.

She glanced up at Alex. “I like her too.”

Astra shuffled their feet in the sand. ‘You like me?’

“How could I not?” Maggie gave them a lopsided grin. She could see that Astra still looked a little uncertain. She held her hand out. “Your par’s my family, kiddo. That means you are too.”

Astra took Maggie’s hand. They could sense the truth of her words. Maggie’s love for Alex burned brightly. And they could feel her love for them settling around them like a warm blanket. They let out a happy trill before shyly wrapping their arms around Maggie’s neck. She’s like Alex-par.

Maggie laughed. She stood, picking up Astra in the process. She glanced at Alex, who looked at her with unconcealed joy.

“I think we’ve kept everyone waiting long enough, don’t you think?” Maggie asked. “How about we go say hi?”

Alex smiled. She glanced at Kara who nodded. She looked back her lover. “Sounds like a plan.”

-

J’onn J’onzz wasn’t a hugger. He would tolerate a hug or a clap on the back if the situation called for it, but that didn’t change the fact that when it came to personal contact, he was every bit as awkward and stiff as his adopted daughter. He communicated his feelings through grunts, frowns, and exasperated pinches to the bridge of his nose. The latter was especially common occurrence when Alex was involved.

That said, the first thing J’onn did when Alex stepped in front of him was to pull her into a bone crushing hug. She let out a surprised squeak as he lifted her several inches off the ground before putting her back down.

Alex blinked owlishly once her feet were back on solid ground. In so far that she could remember, J’onn had never been one to initiate a hug. It made for an interesting experience. Not entirely unpleasant, just unexpected.

J’onn looked Alex over. The sight of her before him filled him with relief. To lose Alex for good would have been like losing K’hym and T’ania all over again. He thanked his ancestors that that had not been the case. As it stood, the seven year journey had obviously taken its toll on Alex. Physically, aside from a few scars and a new arm, she looked relatively unchanged. It was her eyes, however, that gave J’onn pause. The idealism that had once shone was gone. In its place was a cold determination. A crinkle of warmth flared up when Alex looked at Maggie or the young Saurian in her arms, but just barely.

“Alex,” he greeted.

“J’onn.” To anyone else, the one word greeting shared between them would have signaled discontent between the two. But J’onn and Alex, it spoke the opposite. They had worked together for so long that in language they spoke, a single word could carry incredible weight. It helped that J’onn could also read minds.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to finally be back.” Alex glanced over at her shoulder to see her crew milling about. She grinned sheepishly. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought back some guests.”

“Not at all. Pam might have something to say about it, though.” Even though she stood out of earshot, Pam began to wave a thick folder of documents, almost as if on cue. Alex bit back a groan.

“Seriously?” she whined.

“You went rogue.” Was J’onn’s simple response.

“We can’t seriously have paperwork for that!”

He gave Alex a look. Her antics during her tenure with the DEO meant that Pam had paperwork for just about everything. If J’onn remembered correctly, most of those forms were even pre-filled. Alex laid claim to a piece of alien technology before anyone else could examine it? That was form 57-8b; just fill out lines 6, 7, and 11. Alex decided to charge ahead and take out an enemy fortification without backup, again? Sign and date lines 3, 5, and 8 on Form 15-9a. Pam even had a special stamp whose sole purpose was to be used on any Alex Danvers-related paperwork.

“Ah, good point,” Alex conceded.

A smile cracked across J’onn’s face. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Alex.”

To Alex’s embarrassment, tears welled up in her eyes at his words. She hadn’t done anything special. All she had done was survive.

J’onn brought her back into another hug. “You did more than just survive,” he muttered. “You went above and beyond anyone’s expectations and you brought your people home. You made it home.” He closed his eyes. He caught glimpses of a Saurian’s final moments and their desperate plea to her. It was followed by a stone faced Alex watching as another makeshift coffin was shot out towards the stars. “You did everything right, Alex. I am so proud out you; any father would be.”

Alex began to sob in earnest. Jeremiah Danvers might have helped sire her, but  J’onn J’onzz had been more of a father to her than Jeremiah ever had. During their fateful confrontation in the forest, he had claimed to be proud of his eldest, only to turn his back on her when she refused to join him. J’onn had stood by her time and time again, looking after her the only way a father could. Whatever praise he espoused about Alex was genuine and without a price. So far Alex was concerned, he was her father in every way that mattered.

In the background, Alex could hear Lucy, Winn, and James fawning over Astra. To her relief, it sounded like Astra was enamored with them. She pulled away from J’onn to see Astra prodding at James’s helmet, as if trying to figure out exactly why he was wearing it. James didn’t seem to mind. He was incredibly patient with Astra, calmly answering question after question spat out by an eager Saurian youngling. That’s my kid. Astra glanced at Alex for half moment. They waved to her before returning their attention back to the Superfriends.

Alex could feel J’onn’s amused look. “What?” she demanded, wiping away tears.

“Parenthood suits you, Alex.” One of the main reasons he had recruited Alex, aside from the debt he owed Jeremiah, was her protective nature. That she was Kara’s sister had just been a side bonus. Unfortunately, years of Eliza Danver’s parenting had given Alex an incredibly unhealthy self-sacrifice streak. J’onn had done his best to see it pushed aside, but Alex was stubborn. It had taken the entrance of Maggie into her life to begin the process of making Alex see that her life was worth something. Becoming a parent had done the rest.

The old Alex would have puffed and sputtered out denials at J’onn’s words. Now, all she did was smile.

��I’d like to think so, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.”

J’onn chuckled. “No one does.” He certainly hadn’t. He had never felt more out of his element than the first time he had held his daughters in his arms.

An easy silence settled between them. They watched as Astra allowed themself to be passed to Winn, who gave everyone a deer-in-the-headlights look. A warm clap on the shoulder from James and an encouraging smile from Maggie and Kara slowly put him at ease.

“Hope you don’t mind that I’ve been telling Astra that they have a Martian for a grandpa for the last six or so years,” Alex mentioned casually.

J’onn’s head snapped to her so fast that had he been human, he would have undoubtedly broke his neck.

“Excuse me?”

Alex glanced at him. “You heard me.” She frowned, suddenly nervous. “Unless that was wrong…?”

While J’onn had never bought into the whole “men don’t cry” ideology that humans seemed so fond of, he had never been one for shedding tears. He had wept upon losing his family on Mars and he had wept when Alex had been first been lost to the stars. But aside from those few instances, he never allowed tears to fall. He knew that if he allowed them to, he would never stop. And yet, having Alex inform him that he was to be the grandfather to her child drew tears to his eyes. He focused his gaze towards his grandchild to hide the fact that tears were rising in his eyes.

J’onn cleared his throat. “No, it’s not wrong.” A warm smile. “It’s an honor.” He’d never allowed himself the entertain the thought of having grandchildren, or even another family, after the death of his own. Somehow, the ragtag group of humans calling themselves the Superfriends had wormed their way in and, without his notice, had become his family on Earth. And now, his eldest adopted human child had given him a grandchild.

Alex nodded. She placed her head on J’onn’s shoulder and allowed his arm to wrap around her shoulders. Nothing more needed to be said, especially when one of them could read minds.

-

Later that night

Alex stared at the ceiling as she lay awake. Maggie dozed away next to her, finally exhausted from their hours of love making. Astra snored away in the living room with Adrian, who had showed up at the apartment shortly after Alex’s arrival. The last she had checked before retiring to the bedroom with Maggie, Astra was using him as a pillow.

Despite the darkness and quiet sound of Maggie breathing, Alex couldn’t sleep. Or more accurately, she wouldn’t sleep. She feared that if she closed her eyes, she would awaken back on the DEO to find that this had all been a cruel dream. As illogical as it sounded, it wouldn’t have been the first dream of home she had had over the years. She just didn’t know if she would be able to handle her return to Maggie being just a dream once more.

Alex let out a frustrated breath. She rolled over onto her side and gently ran her fingers through Maggie’s hair. She smiled ever so slightly at the phantom feel of her lover’s hair flowing past her mechanical fingers. The haptic sensors in her arm were experimental, the result of scavenged technology and countless instances of trial and error. The sensations drawn by her hand were slight, but they were there. And to Alex, that was all that mattered. She would take any feeling, no matter how slight, over no feeling at all.

Maggie’s face scrunched up unconsciously at Alex’s touch. Her smile widened. Maggie made for such an adorable sight when she slept. How many nights and early mornings had she spent awake, marveling at the sight of the incredible woman next to her? How many times had she wondered just how she had gotten so lucky to have Maggie Sawyer choose to be with her, of all people?

“Mmph...Ally?” Maggie’s sleep-heavy voice drew Alex from her musings.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.” A small yawn contradicted Maggie’s words. She blinked tiredly as her eyes adjusted to the dark. The city lights that managed to slip past the blinds illuminated Alex’s form. With her hair mussed from sex and naked form barely covered by a sheet, her lover looked ethereal in the darkness. Maggie hadn’t seen anything that beautiful in years. “What’re you still doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Alex lied.

Maggie didn’t believe that for a second. She sat up. Alex found her eyes drawn to Maggie’s body as the sheet fell.

“What’s really bothering you, Alex?” she asked. She kept her voice gentle, knowing that Alex tended to shut down if questions about her feelings were raised in an accusing tone.

“Nothing. I just can’t sleep.” It was stupid. She was home. I made it home. Maggie was right next to her. This wasn’t a dream.

“Ally…” Maggie placed her hand on Alex’s face, drawing her gaze to hers. “You don’t have to bury your feelings anymore. Not with me.” They had had this conversation, years ago. Alex hadn’t been too receptive, but overtime, she had come to open herself up and speak up when something was troubling her.

Alex sighed. She looked away. Logically, she knew that her fears were for naught. But there was a part of her that couldn’t let it go. Countless nights spent dreaming of Maggie, of home, only to awaken to an empty bed had taken its toll on Alex. She wanted to believe that she was home. God she wanted to. But she was afraid.

Maggie caught the fear crossing Alex’s face. In that moment, things finally clicked. And when they did, she felt her heart break. She drew Alex to her. She trailed her fingers through Alex’s hair.

“You’re home, Alex,” she murmured. “I’m right here.”

Alex was silent. She shifted ever so slightly so that her ear close to Maggie’s heart. The soft thump-thump was more soothing than she’d expected it to be.

“I want to believe that,” Alex muttered after a while. “I know it’s stupid and--”

“It’s not,” Maggie interrupted, though not unkindly. Countless mornings she had awoken, fully expecting Alex to be right alongside her. And every morning that she woke to cold sheets and an empty apartment drove the spike of grief that much deeper into her heart. “It’s not stupid at all.”

Maggie moved her fingers from Alex’s hair and intertwined their fingers together. Gently, she moved their joined hands to to her heart. In the stillness of the bedroom, her heartbeat was easily felt by both of them.

“Feel that?” Alex nodded. “I’m right here, Ally, I’m right here.”

Alex burrowed her face into Maggie’s chest, feeling tears rise to her eyes. She was so tired of crying, of being afraid. Despite her best efforts, a small sob broke through. She clenched Maggie’s hand tighter as her body shook with muffled sobs.

Maggie continued to murmur assurances to Alex. She absently ran the fingers of her left hand through Alex’s hair. Eventually Alex’s weeping subsided as exhaustion finally set in. Maggie gently placed a kiss on Alex’s forehead. She shifted, pulling Alex even closer. She needed her close, just as much as Alex needed her.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Alex,” she whispered. “I promise.” Maggie wasn’t sure if Alex was awake enough to hear her words, but she imagined that she saw a ghost of a smile make its way across Alex’s lips. She closed her eyes and followed her into sleep. Even as sleep claimed her, she never let go of Alex’s hand.

Both slept without issue in eachothers arms, content in the knowledge that Alex had made it. She had kept her promise. She was home.

[dieverdediger]

Some heretical ideas...

Disclaimer: I am not a theologian and I am not studying theology. My knowledge of these matters come mostly from what I’ve read, or what I have heard from those who seem knowledgeable on this. I don’t mind being proven wrong.

I met this guy a few years back. He struck me as a real Christian. But I’ve noticed over the years that often the people you respect most for their faith end being those you respect least. I still respect him and I do think he IS a Christian. But he shared a couple of stuff on his Whatsapp status today that I had to address. 

For many people out there it will just be a case of my word against his. Even worse, he IS actually studying theology. But at least there is a “my word” against his and not just “his words”.  

He made a list about “10 things about Christianity that Jesus would not be happy about if he returned”. 

1. That his vision for a transformed society, which he called the “kingdom of God”, got twisted into an afterlife fantasy about Heaven”.

Fair enough. Kinda. I wonder whether he actually believes there is a heaven, but that’s too unclear to comment on. However, either way this “kingdom of God” is NOT a kingdom on earth at the moment. As I understand it (and again, I could be wrong), Jesus himself saw himself as the Kingdom of God. In fact if I recall correctly that’s what N. T. Wright said in his book, The Challenge of Jesus (it was also said by the apologist William Lane Craig). It is through Christ that we can partake in a shadow of what is to come. So in a sense yes, we should work towards transforming society right now. But the Kingdom is in him, not here. But we shouldn’t expect that there will be a kingdom of God in our life time before his return. 

2. That a religion was formed to worship his name, instead of a movement to advance his message. 

This is really on the line between orthodoxy and heresy. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. He is right if he means that we should not just worship him. We should also spread the Gospel. That’s fine so far that goes. But what he is hopefully not saying is that worshipping his name is wrong. 

3. That the gospel says his death solved the problem of humankind’s separation from God, instead of his life as a witness that there is no separation from God.

This is downright wrong, if not blatantly heretical. The point IS that we are fallen human beings. This came about through our own sinful deeds. It is only through Christ’s sacrifice that we are forgiven and allowed true access to God’s presence. The Jews in the Old Testament were never allowed to venture into the temple all the way to where the Ark was. They were unclean. Only the high priests could go there and only extremely rarely. But through Christ’s atonement we are cleansed. Though our sins are red, they shall be white as snow.

4. That the religion bearing his name was conceived by the theories and doctrines of Paul, instead of the truth Jesus lived and demonstrated.

Agreed. I remember studying religious studies how they would argue that Paul founded Christianity. Only much later on did I discover that all sane historians believe Jesus did actually exist. It is because of him that Christianity has come about.

5. That he was said to exclusively be God in the flesh, putting his example out of reach, rather than teaching that we all share in the same spirit that empowered his character and life.

Yes and no. Once again this takes a very fine line. It is true that Jesus being God incarnate does not put his example out of reach. If anything, he became as much a man to show what the perfect man would be. Do we share the same spirit, though? This is an odd question and it is beyond my knowledge. My problem is this: The Christian doctrine is that God is a trinity. Jesus is the Second Person of the Trinity. The Holy Spirit is the third. We share the third Person, the Holy Spirit, in that the Holy Spirit lives in us. I don’t know though whether Jesus actually had the Holy Spirit while on earth. I mean, why would he? And when Jesus went away he said he would send the Spirit after him. 

So I don’t know. But I’m just cautious about this point. 

6. That the religion that claims Jesus, teaches that his wisdom and teachings are the only legitimate way to know truth and God. 

“Truth and God”. Two statements are made here: 

That only only his wisdom and teachings are legitimate ways to know truth.

And that only his wisdom and teachings are legitimate ways to know God. 

I agree on the former, but not the latter. 

No one in their right mind would say that you have to be a Christian to know truth. Life, nature and everything we learn can be known whether you’re an atheist or not. Many Christians would argue that it is through the natural world that you can come to know God. 

The second point is more difficult. Yes, but I would change it a bit. Jesus’s wisdom and teachings are the only legitimate way to know God as best as you could. As with the point above, it is possible to learn some things about God in other places. Like Plato who argued for God’s goodness. Or the Hindus who are not that far away with their whole idea of Avatars. That’s true. You can learn facts about God from outside of Christianity. Many Christian theologians from the beginning agreed on this. They took inspiration from Plato and Aristotle and others. 

It is also possible (though I know some will disagree) that you are honestly mistaken about Him. Suppose you grew up in a Muslim family and for some reason or another you were never really exposed to Christianity. If you are honestly a Muslim and you never consciously rejected Christianity then maybe (A BIG maybe cause I don’t know), maybe you’ll still be saved after death. 

BUT... if you KNOW of Christ and you know what he offers then it’s stupid to hold to anything else. I mean, I’m sure those cheap PlayStation 3 knock-offs have some good games here and there, but why have the knock-offs when you can have the same thing? Even worse, suppose you see the love of your life. Why settle for anyone less than him or her if you can have him or her? Isn’t it insulting and an outright rejection to reject your love for something worse? 

It is possible that by loving someone you learn how to appreciate the love of your life when you meet him or her. But that’s not the same as rejecting your love for the lesser version. In the same vein you can only truly love God by accepting him as completely as you can. Anything else is just fear and idolatry.

So to get back to the statement, you can know some things about God in other faiths. You may even (perhaps I’m wrong) know him somewhat if you are honestly seeking him in that faith. But if he revealed the true path to you, if he revealed the Christian faith and Christ himself, and you reject it, then you reject him. In that case you cannot know God.

7. The idea that humankind stands condemned before God and deserving of God’s wrath and eternal judgement, requiring the death of Jesus to fix it.

This is the same as point 3. This is downright true. Anything else is heresy. This is the entire point of Christianity. We are standing condemned and we do require Christ to “fix” it. It’s like THE central message. 

I need to actually quote the Bible here:

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Not only is this so, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

We have all done bad things. As C. S. Lewis said, in ancient times people knew of the disease but not the cure. Today people do not even know of the disease. Look deep into yourself. Do you really like what you see? We all have this spite and anger, jealous, pride and lust. Do you like it? Do you like the fact that you’ve just said this or that to your friend? Or thought this other thing about your mother? What is this in us that makes us so wretched? A part of us wants to be punished. We did this one very terrible thing which no man on earth should approve. It should be condemned. We want others to be punished for doing this and a part of us want ourselves to be punished as well. 

THAT, is what Christians mean when they say we are sinful and need to be saved. We need to be saved from ourselves. And we can’t. That’s what we mean when we say we stand accused before God. And that only Jesus can fix it. He takes all that guilt and badness on him and is punished in our place. 

8. That people are waiting on Jesus to return to save the world and end suffering, rather than taking responsibility for saving the world and saving suffering ourselves.

Yes and no. As Christians we are obligated to help others in the here and now. That’s true. We should alleviate suffering as far as we can. But we will never save the world or end suffering completely. That’s simply unrealistic, as anyone with a basic grasp of human nature or politics can tell you. 

9. That people think there is magical potency in uttering the name of Jesus, rather than accessing our own natural powers and capabilities to effect change.

Agreed. His name is not some magical chant that you can use as you wish. That’s simply blasphemy.

10. That people have come to associate Jesus with church, theology, politics and power, rather than courage, justice, humanity, beauty and love.

Why not both?

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P. S. The aim of everything is simply to give another side of the argument. It is to give a defence (however weak) of orthodoxy. It’s easy to attack the Church and ancient beliefs. It is fashionable. It is unfashionable to defend it.