#but ugh the existing photographs already make me want to throw up and I am glad there aren't photographs of the worse 'dance' jobs I did

[envolvenuances]

and I think child modelling should be illegal I'm not even joking

[morkleemelon]

Jet Lag✈️

1) you and Mark are both idols and you're on video call from different countries and you miss each other. You surprise Mark secretly visiting Korea and you then surprise him in his room and you guys cuddle and stuff ^~^

@smolninja thank you for your request! I hope it’s everything you wanted! I’m sorry for the delay, I had so many issues with Tumblr and accidentally deleted it when I was like 70% done it was so sad. Nonetheless, I really liked writing it! Enjoy :)

Warnings: mild swearing

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Fem Idol!reader x Mark Lee

The set up: you’re in a 7 member kpop group called Girl Trouble and you’ve just finished the first concert of your Japanese tour. We’re pretending corona doesn’t exist :) The general public does not know that you are dating Mark Lee

-----

You feel the van come to a stop as flashing lights bloom from outside the tinted windows, waking you from your much needed sleep.

“We’re at the hotel y/n,” your bandmate, Yeeun, informs, fixing her hair in her phone camera to make sure she was ready to be photographed.

The excited cheers coming from the street bring you out of your sleepy stupor and you stretch your arms above you in a big yawn.

“How do I look?” you ask Nayoo, your best friend in the group who’s sitting next to you, touching up her concealer.

“Perfect as always y/n, duh,” she replied, playfully winking as she put her stuff away.

“Ok I’m opening the door!” you warn as you grab the handle and take a deep breath, putting on your best smile.

Swinging the door open, you’re met with an uproar of fans calling out your name and a storm of camera flashes eager to capture your latest look. It was your group’s first time in Japan so the fans were especially excited to finally have the chance to see you.

*Click click click click*

You stepped out of the car as gracefully as you could, smile never faltering as you showed off your pearly white teeth and prize-winning dimples. Brushing your hair back slightly as you walk, you tease your new gold earrings as a subtle endorsement to the brand. Your members following suit, you wave to the crowd and make your way to the entrance, nodding at a few fansites you recognized.

- - -

Throwing yourself onto the bed, your freshly showered hair promptly soaks through the comforter but you couldn’t care less.

“Ugh...,” you sighed, melting into the plush goodness of the hotel mattress, “I’m so goddamn tired.”

If only he were here with you...

“Oh!” you gasp, head shooting up from your now wet pillow, “I promised I’d call!”. You rolled off the bed and scrambled to find your phone in your bag, suddenly wide awake.

“You’re calling loverrr boyyyy?” Nayoo teased, dragging out the letters because she knew how much you hated it.

“Stopppp!” you whined, throwing your soggy pillow at her and trying to hide the growing blush on your cheeks.

Frantically unlocking your phone, you scroll through your contacts to find your boyfriend, heart racing with anticipation. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve seen Mark and you know it’ll be a few more until you have the chance. You promised each other to call whenever you could, but with NCT dream having a new comeback and Girl Trouble was starting to be really popular, there was only so much you could do. On top of that, it was stressful trying to keep your relationship a secret with all of the prying eyes around you and Mark’s intense fan base. Nevertheless, you’ve been going strong for about 8 months now you know that everything, every struggle, is worth it because of how much you truly love him.

Calling: Baby💕💋🦁...

You don’t bother to fix your makeup-less face and frizzy hair because you know that he’ll say you’re beautiful.

You smile at the thought of him as the FaceTime chimes ring.

*whoom*

“Marky!” you whisper cry, heart racing with excitement as you see his face for the first time in days.

“Baby!” Mark squeals back in the same tone, losing himself to giggles as you both giddily recover from the excitement of getting to see each other. You can hear the sound of voices mocking him in the background and Chenle’s piercing scream cuts through the audio.

“How have you been, baby?” you ask adoringly, ignoring the dreamies and look longingly at the boy in round glasses and his favorite grey hoodie.

“Shut up guys! I’m trying to talk to y/n!” he yells back at them, met with only more mocking and screaming. Sighing and giving up, he turns back to the camera, “Ah you know, I’ve been alright. We’ve been pretty busy with practice. I’m actually at practice right now if you can’t tell”. He pans the camera to the other members of dream who are clearly only taking a break because Mark made them stop for this phone call.

Guilt grips at you as you realize how you were probably inconveniencing them. After all, it was getting late and they all have to stay even later now because of you.

“Oh... if now’s not a good time we can always try tomorrow,” you offer, smiling slightly but not enough to hide your disappointment and guilt.

“Aw baby I’m sorry,” Mark soothes, “don’t worry about us I didn’t mean it like that. I missed you so much and these guys can spare a few minutes it’s fine”.

“I wish you were here, Mark. Or I was there,” you whisper, lying down on your bed once again. Placing your phone in front of you, it’s almost, almost, as if he were there lying with you.

Mark wears a pensive expression as he looks down, using his free hand to fiddle with his hoodie strings.

“Yeah. Me too”.

His voice is strained as he thinks about the nights you’ve snuck out together and the secret dates you shared. He misses the way you feel in his arms and the way your soft hair felt when it tickled him awake in the morning. He misses your terrible dad jokes and your night cooking. It was really frustrating how you were both so young and so in love, but everything else in life had to get in the way. Mark really missed you.

You reach out instinctively to stroke his hair but instead of comforting the boy you loved, your hands are met with only the cold surface of your screen.

The two of you talked for a few more minutes, trying to make the most of the time before he had to go. You could tell by the way his voice strained that he was really exhausted.

When he finally hung up, you couldn’t shake the empty feeling off; not being next to him, being able to touch him, to comfort him, to be with him was the worst feeling in the world.

And before you could stop yourself, warm tears began to fall as your shoulders shook with your heartbroken sobs. Video calls were supposed to make you miss each other less, not more. You loved him so much that you’d miss him even if he was right there with you. Being apart was devastating.

“Oh, honey…,” Nayoo coos, crawling into your bed to give you a much needed hug, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Let it out”.

Wrapping your arms around your best friend, you let the tears fall onto your already soaked pillow and spilling out the feelings you’ve kept buried inside for so long. 

“I just miss him so much,” you gasp, squeezing your fists around the fabric of Nayoo’s sweatshirt. 

“Oh I know y/n, I know,” she comforted, “remember back when we were trainees and you just started dating Mark? And I was always there to distract Manager Kim when you snuck out to meet him?”.

You let out a small laugh at her attempt to lighten the mood. Nayoo was truly a good friend and she always had your back. You were really lucky to have her in your life.

“I do, Nayoo. I never thanked you enough for that”

“You know I love you. I’d do it again now if you wanted to sneak out and meet him. Actually I bet you could pull it off since our next show isn’t for another 4 days”

“Wait…”

Both of you sat up at the same time, looking at each other with wide eyes. 

------

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Shush! We already bought the tickets there’s no backing out now”

“What if someone notices me?”

“They won’t. Look at you”

You looked in the mirror of the lobby bathroom you were hiding in. You were dressed in plain, unbranded clothes, your hair tucked in a low, messy bun. The majority of your face was covered by a mask and a baseball hat, making you look nearly unidentifiable to anyone looking. 

“I guess,” you sighed, still nervous, “let’s just go over the plan again”.

“Alright sheesh,” Nayoo groaned, “as if I am not a wizard of distracting our manager. You’ll get into the Uber we just called and go to Japan Airport. Your flight is at 2:30am and you’ll arrive in Korea at about 4:00am. Then you’ll go to Mark’s dorm and make out with him yadda yadda-”.

You punched her in the arm.

“Okay! Did I lie though? Anyways, you’ll be on your return flight the next day at the same time so you better savor your time. MY job is to tell Manager Kim that you are having lady problems and you can’t make it to practice today. He hates when we talk about periods so this is fool proof seriously. Plus we know that you will do fine on stage without one day of practice”.

“Okay…,” you chewed your lip nervously, half dreading the thought of being caught and half thrilled at the thought of being in Mark’s arms in a few hours. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you looked at the notification.

*your Uber driver Ayako is here! Look for license plate A29&Q on a black Honda Pilot*

Hugging Nayoo goodbye, you rush out of the hotel and into the cab, adjusting your cap and mask to make sure it covers your face. 

Each second that passed, you became more excited about seeing your boyfriend and less nervous about the consequences. 

Mark, I’m here for you. I’m coming, just wait a little bit longer. 

Your hands itched to call him and tell him what you were doing but you knew that he was catching up on some much needed sleep by now. 

When you arrived at the Japan Airport, you thanked the driver and walked briskly through the airport. You had nothing except a small backpack and your plane ticket so getting through security was quick. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people there at 2 in the morning so you began to relax. 

Successfully making it through security, you finally board the plane and claim your seat at the very back. 

Looking out the window to the dark, starry skies, the lights of the airplane wings illuminate the drops of rain that began to fall. 

-----

You jolt awake as the plane lands at the South Korea Airport with a rumbling thud. Your hands dart to your face to make sure your mask and hat are still there, sighing in relief when they remain unmoved. 

Grabbing your bag, you walk down the aisle of the half-empty plane, each step bringing you closer to Mark. 

Rushing out of the airport, your steps gain traction as you feel your heart racing in excitement at the thought of seeing your boyfriend so soon. The cold night air greets you familiarly as you call the nearest cab over. Telling the driver the address of Mark’s dorm building, you watch as the streetlights pass by and you near the boy you’ve been dying to see for weeks. 

At last, you arrive at the steps of the apartment complex. Thanking the driver, you rush into the building and attack the elevator button going up. Your breathing is shallow with excitement knowing that he’s there right now. He’s there and you’re going to be with him. 

Every second in the elevator feels like hours and you kick yourself for not taking the stairs. The floors seem like they’re all a mile away from the last and you tap your foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. 

8...9...10

*Ding*

You speed out of the elevator and find your way expertly to the infamous 10th floor dorm room. Feeling around the crevices of the carpet floor for the spare key, you feel a slight twinge of nerves because you’re technically breaking into their home. But, as soon as you enter the familiar room, any guilt you have washes away and the only thing you can feel is the rapid beating of your heart filled with love and anticipation.

Making your way silently through the dark common room, you stop at the oh-so-familiar door. When your hand touches the cold metal of the doorknob, you swear that the beating of your heart was loud enough to wake the entire building.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door and you see him. Your breath hitches at your throat and you fight back the urge to cry right then and there. Mark was lying on his bed, snuggled under the covers with his arms and legs wrapped around a pillow like he always does when he sleeps. His soft breathing was rhythmic and calming, the warm scent of his room inviting you in. 

Without wasting another second away from him, you drop your bag on the messy floor and walk up to his bed. Carefully, you pull at the pillow in his embrace and replace it with your own body. Mark shifts slightly and you freeze, not wanting to wake him up from his rare sleep. His eyes remain closed and his arms instinctively tighten around you. You can see through the darkness that his eyebrows furrow slightly and his lips part, and you wonder if he knew you were there. 

“Finally,” you thought to yourself, reaching up slowly to caress his hair, “we’re finally together”. It didn’t feel real. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here in his arms. His body was so warm and felt like home to you. 

You can feel Mark’s fingers autonomously rub circles into your back. As if his body realized what was happening, Mark’s eyes opened slowly and he peered into your face, blinking slowly to process this new information. 

“I’m here, Mark,” you whisper as softly as you can.

Without any hesitation, Mark leans forward and presses a deep kiss onto your lips, conveying ten thousand words with his actions that could only be interpreted as “I missed you so much”. 

You kiss him back, fingers gripping onto his shirt with raw emotion in an “I missed you too”. You breathe in deeply, not wanting to forsake any aspect of him, taking in all of his scent and drinking it all like a flower with no water.

He pulls away with a sigh and presses his forehead against yours. Mumbling incoherent words, you notice that he seems to have fallen back asleep.

Your own eyelids feel heavy and they flutter closed as you succumb to the warm welcome of sleep, your heart whole with love.

----- 

Dull beams of sun fell slanted through the curtains as you drifted awake the next morning. You felt a hand playing with your hair and you opened your eyes slowly, temporarily forgetting what you had done the night before. Memories flooded back and your attention narrowed in at the smiling boy in front of you. 

“You’re really here,” Mark whispered, “how are you here?”.

“It’s a long story,” you whispered back, voice still hoarse from sleep. 

He pulled you in closer to his chest and you gladly snuggled into his warm body, nuzzling at his favorite hoodie, the one you got him for Christmas. 

“I thought it was all a dream when I saw you last night,” he admitted.

“Stay with me today?,” you ask, worried that your time together would be short. If he had to go to practice, you could hardly see him at all and you’d go back to missing him a thousand miles away.

“I’m not going anywhere today,” Mark replies, kissing the top of your head, “my wishes have finally come true and you magically appeared in my bed. I’d be an idiot to leave”.

You giggled at his words, working your fingers to draw shapes into his back. 

You start to tell him what happened after you called him the night before and how devastated you were when you weren’t with him. Mark’s arms tightened around you as you told him you cried when you saw how tired he was and you weren’t there to cheer him up. You told him about how you put on a disguise and snuck around Manager Kim who thought you were dying right now. His body shook with laughter at the crazy night you had and you both agreed that this was the wildest thing you had ever done.

“How long are you gonna stay here?”

“My flight back to Japan is at 2:30am tomorrow morning. What time is it now?”

Mark shifts to unlock his phone on the nightstand. 

“It’s 10:49am”

You sighed and buried your face deeper into his chest, trying to get impossibly closer to the love of your life and make the most of your hard-earned time together. 

“Let’s do everything today,” you heard him say.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your chin up to look at him, pressing a small his to his jaw. 

“Let’s just do everything we always wanted to do. Let’s get ramen from the convenience store together and then go on a walk at the park. Let’s get matching sweaters from the mall and then full sugar boba tea. You’ll drink half of mine and I’ll let you because I’m a good boyfriend”. Mark giggles at his imagination and peppers kisses across your face. 

You laugh at the ticklish sensation and your heart swells with love for the Canadian boy. 

Your whole body tingled, the feel of his body around yours and his lips on yours sending your head spinning. Rubbing your nose adoringly against his in an eskimo kiss, you vow that you would be strong for him from now on. You might be apart for work a lot, but the love you share is inseparable and undeniable. Nothing could ever come between you. You were his and he was yours. 

“Let’s do it, Everything”

[nightcoremoon]

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

[angsty-aliens]

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories of Childhood

The fic isn’t finished yet, but it should be soon so I’ve started posting it on Ao3. 

***

A little boy stood with his back against the wall, one hand hidden in a pocket, heaving panicked breaths. His jeans were worn through at the knees, with frayed bottoms where they dangled a bit too long. His shirt was a solid blue with small holes near the neck and slightly faded, like a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down. He had an oversized grey hoodie with grime encrusted elbows and a mysterious stain on the front. Ketchup? Blood? His entire ensemble gave the impression of being discarded, an after-thought. Nothing chosen by him, everything chosen for him and without much care.

Liz took one step closer and he plastered himself flat to the wall, nowhere else to go. His eyes were wide and flickered back and forth, trying to track every possible threat at once and finding the number of threats to be overwhelming. He looked like a trapped animal ready to gnaw off his own leg for a chance at freedom.

She raised her hands and spoke gently, “hey… hey it’s okay. You’re okay. No one’s gonna hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Liz took a cautious step forward and the little boy's hand clenched into a fist inside his jeans pocket.

Michael watched this exchange and warned, “Don’t touch him Liz.”

Liz didn’t let her eyes leave the boy, “He’s your inner child, Michael. He’s adorable.”

“My inner child will stab you.”

She spun around at that, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Michael just shrugged, “His hand is in his right pocket. There’s a switchblade there. I stole it from a truck stop when I was ten. Blue handle. Keep stepping closer and I’m sure he’ll show it to you.”

The little boy looked at Michael with betrayal and the older man just raised an eyebrow, “Don’t stab my friends.”

Liz took a step back and the kid took a shuddering breath but unpeeled himself from the wall. He was still ready to run, but looked less likely to make anyone bleed to do it.

This was the stupidest lab accident Michael Guerin had ever been in, and he was the idiot who let Liz inject him with various science projects like a lab rat. He’d found something alien buried out near the pods and brought it back to the bunker under the airstream to investigate. He’d been so careful not to touch it with his bare hands. They’d had the artifact for days. Long enough for Alex to run some programs to try and translate the sigils covering the flat shimmering disk. Long enough for Liz to swab, looking to break down the chemical components of the artifact. All Alex was able to translate was “memory,” “child,” and “temporary.” They were all just educated guesses, but considering there was a tiny version of Michael Guerin standing in his bunker because he touched the disk and without thinking, pressed it to his forehead like it was muscle memory… Michael was pretty sure that translation was correct. He had a physical embodiment of his inner child standing in his lab, ready to stab Liz. Perfect, must be Tuesday.

Michael took a great heaving sigh and forced himself to walk towards the kid who was scowling, and who’s hand was definitely still in his pocket, fisted around the knife. “Do you know who I am?”

The boy pressed his lips together tightly and glared up at him.

“Okay, so we’re gonna rip this off like a bandaid. I’m you, but 28 years old. There was an accident and you… manifested. No we’re not messing with you. You’re an alien. You can drink acetone. Max and Isobel are also aliens.” Michael telekinetically ripped the switchblade out of the kid’s pocket and floated it into his hand. “Believe me?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he watched his weapon float away and Michael slapped a palm over his face, “shit I forgot we didn’t develop the TK until we were twelve. Um, yeah, spoiler alert, that’s a thing you can do.”

Michael slipped the knife into his pocket. Better not to have the kid armed right now. Liz examined the alien disk while being careful not to touch it. “So he’s a construct of your memory? He’s not like literally you from the past? We’re not going to alter the future, right?”

“I promise to let you know if I turn into Marty McFly, but I don’t think I’ll be disappearing from any photographs soon. I mean this thing didn’t come with a users manual, at least not one we can read. But I think he’s me… but you know, shorter.”

Liz watched from a respectful distance, “mijo, how old are you?” She whispered to Michael, “he’s tiny.” With a great bellowing voice the kid shouted, “I’m ELEVEN and you’re UGLY.”

He bolted, but Michael just grabbed him around the waist and hauled him up before he reached the ladder. “Fun. Great, we’re like one big happy family. Ugh, but seriously why am I so little? I thought eleven year olds were bigger. I FELT bigger.” He held the kid out in front of him, dodging kicking feet. “I mean Isobel was always taller than me, but I could have sworn me and Max were the same size. Is this what eleven year olds are supposed to look like?”

Liz smacked the back of Michael’s head, “put him down. He clearly doesn’t like being told he’s small.” She turned to the still squirming child and said in a slow syrupy voice, “I’m sorry, you’re not small. We’re just not used to kids. We don’t know how big eleven year olds are supposed to be. I’m sure you’re a very big eleven year old.”

The kid just glared and tried to kick her while still dangling in the air. Michael gave him a shake in retaliation.

“Michael Guerin,” Liz hissed, “you will not shake him. What’s the matter with you? He’s a kid.”

He shrugged, “he’s not a real kid. He’s me. And it’s not like it hurts. If I whack him, then you can yell at me.”

Liz was scandalized, “you’re not gonna WHACK him.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “of course I’m not gonna whack him. But I’m also not gonna let him kick you.”

“And he IS a real kid. I mean, this might be a temporary thing. Maybe a therapy tool? You have to learn to love your inner child or something? But he is real.”

The two Michaels gave each other distrustful looks. Liz didn’t get it. Michael had never been a real kid. He was the changeling stuck in other people’s nests. He may have looked like a kid but he was never real. His foster parents understood that. There were good kids with parents who loved them unconditionally. And then there was Michael Guerin, who got left behind and never got picked. But Michael did remember what it felt like to be physically restrained by someone bigger, and so with a stern look he put down his younger self. “Do NOT kick Liz. Do not stab Liz. Maybe don’t even look at Liz. Stop being a little shit.” “I’m calling Alex. You’re terrible with children.” Liz threw her hands up, “I don’t get it, I’ve seen you interact with kids before and you’ve always been so nice, Michael. You’ve been gentle and patient. I don’t understand why you’re not giving Mikey the same care.” “Mikey?” They both asked her in unison.

Liz shrugged, “it’s easier than calling you Big Michael and Little…” She quickly corrected herself, “Younger Michael.”

She mused, “Maybe I should call Isobel and Max too. Kyle? Should we get Kyle to check him out?”

Mikey was eyeballing the ladder again and Michael just put one careful hand on his shoulder to discourage the impulse. “Do not call Kyle. Mini-me never actually stabbed a grown up. I just kept the knife to scare away fellow foster kids mostly. But if you call a doctor, the kid will freak out.”

“I won’t freak out. I don’t freak out.” The kid grumbled, deeply offended.

“Yeah? What happened when the Lees took you to that shitty pediatrician when you were eight?” Michael narrowed his eyes at the scowling eleven year old.

The kid announced proudly, “I bit him.”

“You bit him.” Michael added, “And we got our asses roasted when we got home.”

Mikey protested, “No doctors! You know no doctors!”

“Yeah. No doctors. Can’t let anyone know the secret. And yes, throwing an absolute fit every time we were supposed to get a booster shot meant foster parents generally didn’t try to take us. But Kyle already knows. I can give you a list of the grown ups who know. Obviously we’re not announcing it and having an Alien Pride Parade but we have some people who know now.”

Michael turned to Liz, “but we still shouldn’t have them all show up at once. Even I don’t like being in a room with that many people and I’m not an artificial construct of my inner traumatic childhood.”

The kid muttered, “you’re an artificial construct of my farts.”

“Call either Alex, or Isobel and Max. I don’t care which. But not your whole Scooby Gang.”

***

After several attempts to reconnect the Michaels by having them both hold the artifact, they ended up in Max’s living room. It was decided that the bunker was too small and the airstream was definitely too small and it’d just be easier to meet someplace a little further from town where no one would show up for an oil change and see a kid who shouldn’t exist.

The two Michaels sat on the couch as Liz, Max, and Isobel stood in front of them with arms crossed. Michael was starting to feel like a specimen, and Mikey sunk lower on the couch, once again feeling like an inconvenient piece of trouble.

Max broke the silence, “Well this is certainly Michael when we first met him.” He crouched down and said in an awkwardly soft voice, “heeeey buddy. I’m Max. Do you remember me?”

Michael rolled his eyes and whispered to his younger self, “don’t stab Max either.”

With that reminder of their first meeting, Max stood up and took a safer step back. Both Michaels chuckled conspiratorially. Isobel was more pragmatic, “Okay so we’re going to need clothing, a toothbrush, pajamas… What size clothing are you? Mikey? Ugh Liz, that’s a terrible nickname. Mikey, stand up so I can check your sizes and make a list. This is also the time to make any requests, or I’ll finally get to give my little brother…”

“Not your little brother!” Michael interrupted.

Isobel continued, “Give my little brother the makeover I’ve always wanted to.”

The kid found himself bullied up to his feet and Isobel began reaching into his shirt to check for a label. Mikey tolerated it until she spun him around to check for the label in the back of his pants. When she started to raise his shirt and grab at his waistband, he jerked away.

Isobel stepped away with hands raised in surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry Mikey. You can tell me your sizes later. I… Honey, who hurt you? Your back…”

Michael found himself standing in front of the kid to placate his siblings, “Iz, you know I was with the religious fundamentalists. Leave the kid alone.”

Isobel protested, “I didn’t know they hurt you like that. Michael, his back…”

Michael turned back to the kid, matter of factly, “Hey Mikey, do you wanna talk about this?”

“Fuck no.”

“There’s your answer, Iz.”

Isobel looked torn between reprimanding the boy on his language, and trying to pry further. Max eventually took his sister’s elbow and led her to the kitchen where they could whisper furiously about all of Michael’s childhood traumas and pretend no one could hear them.

Liz twisted her hands, “soooo… are you hungry? I could make pancakes.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “it’s 4pm, Liz.” Liz replied, “Everytime is a good time for pancakes, Michael.”  

Mikey interjected, “Look, if the lady wants to make pancakes, let her make pancakes.”

Grateful to have a task, Liz disappeared into the kitchen where she could join Michael’s meddling siblings in whispering about them.

Michael flung himself back on the couch with a dramatic sigh, and Mikey joined him. They stared at Max’s empty fireplace, carefully not making eye contact.

“So where do you want to stay tonight? We can crash with Max, or I can maybe call my... friend, Alex. Alex has a cabin and he won’t be weird about this. Maybe. Hopefully he won’t be weird about this.”

The kid shrugged.

Michael swallowed, “what’s wrong with your back?”

Kid stared intently at the fireplace and shrugged again, “switch.”

Michael closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

It felt like no time passed at all before Max, Isobel, and Liz came out of the kitchen, which was an open concept kitchen and a terrible place to try and whisper about Michael’s childhood trauma. Michael gave them an unimpressed look to try and convey that thought through some artful eyebrow lifting. Isobel just shrugged, completely unrepentant. Liz had made pancakes as promised and they gathered around the dining room table. Mikey already had a hand out, pancake almost in reach. “Wash hands first!” Liz pulled the plate back.

Michael smirked and reached for the pancakes, “Yeah, kid, go wash your hands.”

The plate shifted again and Liz poked him in the chest, “¿Qué estás haciendo? Animals, all of you. Go wash your hands. Didn’t anyone teach you manners?” Michael couldn’t catch the rapid fire spanish that followed, but he was pretty sure she called him a filthy vulture. With mutual grumbling, they went to the kitchen to scrub up. When they returned to the table, the other adults were already eating having previously washed their hands. They left two chairs open for them between Liz and Isobel sitting at either end of the table. Max sat across from them, and continued to stare at the little boy with doe eyes. Michael was finding the whole thing extremely irritating, and based on Mikey’s rhythmic kicking at his chair, the kid was equally uncomfortable. Michael made the boy a plate with three pancakes and plenty of syrup before grabbing his own stack. Liz watched in horror as they both rolled a pancake up like a burrito and shoved it in their faces. There were going to be sticky handprints everywhere, little child sized ones, and big adult sized ones. Ridiculous. Isobel cleared her throat, “so… Mikey, do you want to tell us more about your foster placement?”

Michael looked up from his second pancake burrito and warned, “Iz. Leave it.”

Isobel protested, “Michael, I don’t see why it’s a big secret. We should be able to talk about these things.”

With a huff, Michael shoved the entire pancake into his mouth and wiped at his sticky hands before gesturing for his sister to follow him to Max’s bedroom. The kid just watched this exchange in silence as he kicked at the rungs of his chair, and took another giant bite. Maybe he could fit one of the dry pancakes in his pocket. If it didn’t have syrup on it, it’d probably stay good for at least a day.

Michael closed the door behind them, because unlike his siblings he knew how to meddle without being heard by the whole room.

“Iz, I know you’re concerned but not only does he not want to talk about this with you, but I don’t really want to talk about it either. I didn’t share and care as a kid ON PURPOSE.” She threw her hands up in frustration, “Why wouldn’t you have told us it was this bad though? We could have done something!”

“What were you going to do? Tell your parents? They weren’t going to come in and rescue me. They didn’t want me at seven, they weren’t going to want me at eleven. Were you going to tell the cops? Because they also didn’t really care. Only thing that maybe would have happened is I’d’ve gotten a new placement, and that could have been anywhere. It took four years for me to get to Roswell. I wasn’t going to whine about some bruises and get shipped back to Albuquerque. I know I wasn’t warm and fuzzy to you and Max at first, but I still didn’t want to leave.” “You could have still talked about it. Even if we couldn’t do anything, you shouldn’t have had to keep it a secret.” “I talked sometimes, and it always freaked you both out. I didn’t… I don’t want to be someone you pity.” Michael snapped, “Lots of people have shitty childhoods. They get over it. It’s not a big deal.”

Isobel gave him a displeased look. “Okay but Mikey could talk about it. You think the disk may have been a therapy tool. Maybe he NEEDS to talk about it. Just because you chose to keep it a secret as a kid, doesn’t mean you should have kept it a secret. And you don’t need to keep it a secret now. I’m not going to pity you Michael. You’re far too annoying for me to pity. I can be mad people hurt you without it being pity.” “Mikey…” Michael shuddered, “I hate that nickname and I’m annoyed it’s actually useful here. Mikey, can talk to me. It’s MY therapy. Even if it is therapy. I wish I never touched the damn thing. I thought I was so good putting up a mask as a kid, and obviously I sucked at it and it’s just adults didn’t care. He’s a walking, talking open wound and I’d rather everyone not get to examine all my childhood traumas. You wouldn’t enjoy a little Isobel walking around so we can all remember how scared you were of not being perfect.” She socked his shoulder, “I wasn’t scared of not being perfect.” “If we had a little Isobel here, I’m pretty sure you’d see and EVERYONE would see you were very, very scared of not being perfect.” He gave her a pointed look, “It’s not fun being under a microscope. Can we just… not? Kid literally manifested like an hour ago. Lets not force him into group therapy right now.”

Isobel inhaled deeply and raised an eyebrow, “fine. I’ll stop asking for now. But we’re having a conversation about this later, the two of us. I thought we all agreed, no more secrets.”

Michael laughed, “My childhood isn’t a secret. I’m surprised I didn’t win “Most Tragic Orphan” in the school year book. You and Max knew, I just didn’t give you the unabridged epic version. You got the cliff notes and that’s all you’re getting. Leave my little clone alone.”

Isobel in true, queen bee splendor, fixed her brother with a considering gaze before sauntering out of the room like this whole thing was her idea to begin with. Michael trailed behind her as they rejoined the table. Max announced in an awed whisper, “He’s eaten six pancakes.”

Michael beamed proudly as the kid licked syrup off his palm.

Before long, Max was on dish duty as Liz tried to wipe the kid down with a wet cloth while he squirmed,  “I’m eleven, lady. I know how to wash my own face!”

She attacked a particularly sticky spot on his cheek, “Unfortunately for you I know Michael Guerin as an adult and if I don’t trust an adult Michael Guerin to properly remove syrup, I definitely don’t trust you.”

Both Guerins gave her an outraged look, but Liz was an expert at ignoring people and she just kept scrubbing the kid’s face. Without moving her gaze from the boy’s cheek, she dictated to Guerin senior, “You better wash your hands before you touch anything. I can’t believe you two didn’t use a knife and fork. Pancakes are not finger food.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but obediently went to wash his face and hands. He even submitted to Liz’s inspection afterwards to make sure he did an adequate job. His younger half seemed delighted that someone else was receiving Liz’s attention. In a fit of true maturity, Michael flipped off his younger half and while Liz was distracted being scandalized, Mikey made sure to flip him off right back.  

Now that basic necessities were taken care of, Michael needed to figure out a place to stash the kid. The airstream was too small. Michael knew he could make it work anyway. He never expected anything fancy as a kid, and he hardly ever had his own room. Crashing in a sleeping bag on the floor wouldn’t be the end of the world by a long shot, but despite that, Michael wanted to give the kid a better experience than that. Max would die from doe eyes if they attempted to crash here. Michael could already feel Max’s overwhelming sense of guilt, and it was exhausting. The idea of being here without Liz and Isobel as a buffer was excruciating. Staying with Isobel? No. Too nosy. And asking to crash with Liz at the Crashdown wasn’t even an option. Arturo could sniff out an orphan a mile away and Michael needed to keep his little mini-me far away from mainstreet. Maria was also out of the question. They were still friends despite the breakup, but The Wild Pony was too close to town and a bar was no place for the kid. Alex was the only real option left. His house had more space, but was in the center of town. But the cabin was far enough away from main roads that hopefully Mikey wouldn’t get the urge to hitchhike to Foster’s Ranch at 2am. It was small, but the couch was comfortable enough, and Michael could trust Alex not to see this as an opportunity to dig into Michael’s past. He understood the importance of secrets.

With that decided, Michael sent him a text trying to explain the situation. He knew Alex wouldn’t turn him away. They may not be together anymore, but they were still friends. At least trying to be friends. With that in mind, he collected Mikey from the clutches of Isobel.

“I promise you can torment us both later. But I need to grab clothes from the airstream, and we’re crashing with Alex. You can drop off essentials tonight, or tomorrow. Whatever’s easier. It’s Saturday so Walmart will be open late.”

Michael steered the kid towards his truck while waving vaguely in the direction of his siblings and Liz.

As he drove off, the kid asked, “it’s Saturday?”

“Yeah, and I made Iz promise not to go crazy with the clothing. She owes me so many favors. Don’t worry about it. I fixed her instapot last week. Do you know what an instapot is?” The kid shook his head and Michael shrugged, “yeah me neither. But I fixed it. So she owes me. And we’re literally the same person, so she owes you too.”

At the airstream, Michael stuffed some essentials inside a ratty blue backpack. When he got back to the truck, he handed the kid two packets of peanut butter crackers. “You can eat whenever you’re hungry. No one’s locking down the kitchen. But I know I like having some emergency food anyway.” As the kid started to protest, he pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and pressed that into the boy’s hands. “For the pancakes. So they don’t get lint on them.” Mikey glowered at him, “I don’t have pancakes in my pocket.”

Michael shrugged with feigned nonchalance, “We’re the same person, and if I were eleven and a lady made a stack of pancakes, I’d have at LEAST one in my pocket. I mean maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I didn’t get good at swiping food until I got older. Eleven is pretty young.”

The kid glared and pulled two pancakes out of his hoodie’s pocket, and shoved them into the plastic bag. “You’re old and I don’t need your help. You think you’re hilarious, but the only thing funny here is what a joke your life is.”

Michael started the engine, and refused to make eye contact. He wasn’t going to let an infant hurt his feelings. He didn’t need to prove anything. He was doing fine.

[miss-edith-cushing]

Tag people you want to know better / catch up with. I've been tagged by @ashfae and I’m not surprised at all - she probably noticed how much I love tag games; and the second I saw someone on my dash answering those questions I hoped Ashfae will be a dear and will tag me, and of course I wasn’t wrong - so thank you!

Last song: Zbigniew Preisner - Niebo (Sky) - performed by Elżbieta Towarnicka It’s the last piece with lyrics I listened to, so I guess I should choose this one. It’s an aria from Preisner’s ‘De Aegypto’ (called also ‘Egyptian Opera’), which is... I’m not entirely sure what is that - it was a spectacle performed in TV, but I never listened and seen all of it, and I don’t think it’s available in any way, legally or illegaly. You may know Preisner as a composer who created film scores for Krzysztof Kieślowski’s movies, the best known of which are The Three Colours Trylogy (’White’, ‘Blue’ and ‘Red’) and ‘The Double Life of Veronique’. Elżbieta Towarnicka is his probably favourite performer, and you will clearly hear why (she worked with him also on scores for films I just mentioned). The piece itself was inspired by the Egyptian Book of the Dead and the lyrics refer to it.

You know what, this is such a beautiful song and lyrics in the comments are not properly translated, so I’ll do it for you:

You are the yesterday,

You are the today,

You are the tomorrow,*

And you have the power to be born for the second time.

You are the divine soul

That created the gods,

You are strong,

Brightness lasts** in your heart.

Let him wander in peace,

Let him cross*** the skies,

Let him worship the brightness,

Let him, let him, let him.

I am the yesterday,

I am the today,

I am the tomorrow

And I have the power to be born for the second time,

For the second time.

* Using one word for naming the days - yesterday, today and tomorrow - sounds kinda dull here, because the language of this song is very formal. Normally when we want to say ‘yesterday’, we say just ‘wczoraj’ instead of ‘dzień wczorajszy’ (day... yesterday-y??? the first word means just ‘day’, the second word is an adjective), and that rather unusual pattern was used here to describe the days. I have no clue if English has any equivalent of that; but I felt giving you this information is important.

** The verb here, ‘trwać’, have many meanings, and one of them is ‘to last’. I’m not sure if that’s perfect word here - maybe I should choose ‘stay’. 'Trwać’ means here that the brightness in his heart will not fade away - it’s so special not because the circumstances are unfavourable for it to exist, but because that described being is a creature with an unique nature that ensures him to keep the brightness in himself.

*** Do you remember that iconic line from ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’ with Gary Oldman? ‘I have crossed oceans of time to find you’? This is exactly the meaning. ‘Przemierzać’ means to travel for a very long time and across a huge distance, so the journey feels like it will never end (which doesn’t have to be an unpleasant feeling). It can be a journey repeated routinely on one road (like the sun, or the ship that cruises between two harbors) or a way of roaming through large space in many directions (like a continent or a sea).

Hey, look who started babbling again, how unexpected.

Last movie: At home: ‘Secretary’ (2002). I’ve seen it many years ago and didn’t remember much, and now I liked it a lot. For my film d’auteur class: ‘La Chute de la Maison Usher’ by Jean Epstein. Pure beauty. And I gave in on Thursday and went to IMAX to watch ‘Tenet’. I’m very serious about this whole pandemic business, but I sure as hell ain’t gonna watch this movie for the first time on the screen of my laptop. I’m not entirely sure what happened, this whole wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff was too complicated to understand so quickly, so I’ll definitely watch it again, but it blew me away and that’s exactly what I wished to happen.

Currently Watching: ‘Supernatural’. It’s the last season, five episodes left... Ugh, I’m already getting nervous. And I guess that’s it... I haven’t watched any new show lately, except for miniseries like ‘Des’ (GOSH that was so good). I don’t feel like starting any new shows and when a few months ago I tried to watch ‘Masters of Sex’ I’ve noticed binge-watching makes me very depressed and nervous very easily, so I stopped. I have a few shows I’m planning to watch, but not many, i.e. ‘Killing Eve’, ‘The Terror’ and ‘The Queen’s Gambit’ - the last one mostly because Marcin Dorociński plays in it - this dude should be more famous than Leonardo DiCaprio and win one award after another. If you have HBO GO, ‘Bez tajemnic’ (’Without secrets’), Polish version of ‘In treatment’, should be available there - there are plenty of incredible and legendary actors in this show, but he is the absolute star of it. And for fellow David Tennant’s fans out there: I haven’t watched ‘Spies of Warsaw’ yet, but Dorociński played Antoni Pakulski there and certainly was great too.

Currently Reading: I just started ‘My Brilliant Friend’ by Elena Ferrante - my therapist says I’m very much like the title character and I’m very curious what does it mean. I have also a few articles about theory of cinema to read for my tomorrow’s course: ‘On the politique des auteurs’ and ‘The Ontology of the Photographic Image‘ by André Bazin and ‘The birth of a new avant-garde: La caméra-stylo’ by Alexandre Astruc. SO damn interesting. And SHIT-TON of books about Medea - I’m writing my master’s thesis about her, but please don’t ask me about it, I’m already panicking.

Currently Craving: A good long sleep that would last for at least eight hours. To feel strong and healthy enough (I’m extremely tired, my back and stomach hurt like hell) so I could be able to clean up a little, wash my woolen sweaters by hand (I’m not throwing them into washing machine, they cost too much to risk any damage), organize my desk and uni notes from last year... I’m in one of those rare, but powerful moods of making lists of things to take care of and just... putting my world in order. And visiting places. And I would gladly just spend nice, simple time with some of my friends - just having fun and talking about important, but not especially painful stuff. I really, really need to meet with Olaf, my best friend from work, and joke with him, and talk with him like a new bi person with an old-timer gay person, and get to know him better.

Anyone surprised my replies are so long? I’m not.

And now the worst, stressful part: tagging. @dearcrowley @heart-blood-death @darkanachronism - but if you’d like to answer those questions and haven’t tag you, feel invited to do it and please tag me so I could see it!

[jedifighterpilot2727]

The Rook Chapter 3

Alright, y'all, here it is! The grand finale!! (Though there may be an epilogue!)

I hope you enjoy!! (btw, comments and asks are my absolute life!)

The song for this is 'i hate u, i love u' by gnash ft. Olivia O'brien 

Oh, by the way, I sobbed writing this, so tissues are recommended.

        I Hate You (But I Love You)

She wakes on her office couch, the now empty bottle of Scotch beside her reminding her that her pounding head is her own fault. She refuses to open her eyes, even though the curtains are drawn and the room should be mostly dark.

She just wants to not think, about Kara, about Supergirl, about how stupid she was for not realizing that the woman she was in love with was hiding  a whole identity from her.

So, she lays there, pondering how long she can put off getting up before someone interrupts her relative peace.

Turns out the answer is about five minutes before the door to her office swings open.

“Come on, up and at ‘em. Early bird gets the worm, yada yada yada.”

“Ugh, Jess, no.” Even behind her closed eyelids, she can tell when Jess flips the light on and she groans, throwing her arm over her eyes.

“Nope, none of that! Come on, busy day ahead.”

Lena groans again but complies, shifting into a sitting position and blinking until her eyes adjust enough that she can see the aspirin and bottle of gatorade that Jess is holding out for her. She takes them gratefully, swallowing the pills and following them with a long, slow sip of the neon colored drink.

“Gotta say, boss, the drunk on a work night look does not work on you.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good, cause we have a lot to do today.” She thrusts a small bag in Lena’s direction. “Here are some toiletries, there’s a dress that just came from back from dry cleaning in your closet, oh and be sure to wear some sunglasses to cover those bags under your eyes - I called the press so there’s going to be photographers.”

Lena looks up, pressing the cool bottle of gatorade to her forehead.

“Photographers? For what?”

“Oh, right, sorry, the plane for Metropolis leaves in . . . “ Jess checks her watch. “Two hours.”

“Metropolis? I’m not going to Metropolis!”

“Yes, you are, in two hours; so chop chop.”

“Jess, what are you doing?”

Much to her surprise, her assistant kneels down so she's at eye level.

“Look, Lena, you pay me a lot of money to know . . . well, everything. And we may not exactly be friends, but I care about you, and for the past few weeks you’ve been really . . . not yourself. And I’m not going to mention any names, but we both know why. You need some space, and you’re going to get it. For a month. In Metropolis.”

“A month?!”

“And, speaking of she who shall not be named, there’s quite a list of things that you’ve been meaning to do in Metropolis that you’ve been putting off because you didn’t want to leave her. Now is the perfect time to tie up all those loose ends. Plus, my mom has been begging me to come visit, so it works out great. Three birds, one stone.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Of course, dummy, who else is going to keep you straight!” Jess frowns. “Well, not straight, cause you like the ladies, but you know what I mean. Now come on, we gotta go.”

Jess turns for the door, and Lena watches her, stunned for a moment before calling out.

“Hey, Jess?” she waits for Jess to look back at her before continuing. “Thanks.”

“No problem, boss. Oh, and you might wanna put your hair in a bun today, it looks kinda -“ She trails off, her hands making some sort of jazz hands gesture around her head that makes Lena laugh.

“Yeah, of course. Oh and Jess? Can you make sure the plane has some hashbrowns for the ride? Preferably smothered in gravy."

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Long story short, Jess is a genius.

For starters, the photos of Lena leaving her office and getting into the SUV for the airport are stunning. She looks hot, by any standard, regardless of the fact that the sunglasses covering her face are hiding blood shot eyes and there’s a gatorade and saltine crackers tucked into her purse. All that matters is that her wine colored dress has a plunging neckline and her matching lipstick is one of Kara’s favorite shades.

It doesn’t matter that she almost breaks down on the short ride to the airport, because the Page Six spread makes her look like she’s fine.

It’s a sort of evil satisfaction, knowing that Kara will see the photos and wonder why she’s so put together.

She only wishes she really was that put together, and that her heart didn’t feel like it was shattering into a million pieces as she watches National City fade from view out the plane window.

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Metropolis is . . . refreshing.

She doesn’t see Kara in her mind’s eye every time she walks down the street or steps into a restaurant. Everywhere isn’t tainted with the memory of the best friend she thought she knew like National City is. After a few days, she can actually breathe, she can actually exist for longer than an hour without thinking of Kara’s smile.

She works pretty much from the time her eyes open until the time she falls asleep; but the exhaustion is welcome. Jess was right, she did have a lot of things to take care of in Metropolis, which is why she’s surprised when Jess leaves a break in her schedule on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Jess?” She calls over the intercom. “What am I doing from 3-4?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to pencil it in. You have an appointment with Dr. Fowler.”

Lena frowns.

“A doctor’s appointment? It’s not time for my yearly.”

“Dr. Fowler is a psychiatrist.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, I scheduled you an appointment with her, thought it might help with your . . .  girl problems.”

“Jess, I don’t need a psychiatrist.”

“Ok, boss, noted. but it’s already booked and paid for, so you might as well go this first time.”

Unfortunately, Lena can’t find the logic to argue with her.

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She sits on the comfortable chair in Dr. Fowler’s office, staring down the woman across from her.

She seems, nice, for a psychiatrist.

Her shoulder length brown hair is tucked behind her ears, and her gray suit is non-threatening. She has a kind face, Lena thinks, unable to think of anything negative. Still, she refuses to cave, and fixes her eyes on the clock above Dr. Fowler’s head.

“My assistant made me this appointment.” She says for explanation. “I don’t really need therapy, so I’m sorry to waste your time.”

“I don’t mind.” Dr, Fowler smiles. “We can always just talk. No therapy needed. Are you from Metropolis?”

Lena debates answering her, but common manners win out.

“Well, mother was from Ireland, originally, but that’s . . . “

“A story for a therapist.” Dr. Fowler guesses, and Lena nods.

“That’s fine, we don’t have to talk about it. What brings you to Metropolis? Business? Pleasure?”

“Business.” Lena answers immediately, but guilt creeps up her spine, and she adjusts her answer. “Well, sort of. I live in National City, but . . . well, my assistant thought I could use a break from some people there so she scheduled me some time away. L-Corp has offices in both cities, so it’s convenient.”

“Ah, L-Corp. I remember when you opened up a branch in National City. I thought you were just supposed to stay there for a few months to make sure that everything was going smoothly, what made you change your mind?”

Lena hesitates, unwilling to share more than she has to, but still, she is paying for this; she might as well see what crazy advice this sham has to offer.

“I met someone.” She explains. “A friend.”

“A friend?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Sort of? Do I sense gay drama?” Dr. Fowler’s eyes sparkle, and Lena’s gaze catches on a picture of Dr. Fowler with her arm around another woman, a yellow lab sitting in front of them.

Of course Jess would do her research.

“She’s like . . . sunshine personified.” Lena offers as explanation. “Or at least, she was. Now, I don’t know what she is.”

Dr. Fowler shifts in her chair.

“What’s changed?”

“She . . .” Lena hesitates, reluctant to rehash her heart break. “She lied; about who she is. It turns out that she has this whole other persona that she just . . . hid from me. And you know what the worst part is?” She laughs mirthlessly. “I was friends with the other persona! and she just lied to me! Over and over again! Like I’m some kind of fool! Because I’m the idiot who can’t figure out that Kara Danvers is Supergirl!”

Her eyes flash to Dr. Fowler at her accidental revelation, but the other woman just smiles.

“Everything you say here is confidential. The secret is safe with me.”

Lena nods softly, but it seems that once the dam is broken the flow of her words can’t be stopped.

“She lied to me. For three years! I had to learn the truth from my dying brother! And then when she finally got the guts to tell me, do you know what she said?”

Dr. Fowler shakes her head.

“She said she loved me. That she wanted us to be together. Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear that?!”

“For three years?” Dr. Fowler offers, and Lena chokes back a sob.

“I’ve been in love with her for so long! And she was just oblivious. I guess like I was oblivious about her being Supergirl. But then she just tells me that she loves me. In the same conversation that she tells me the truth.”

“I’m sure that must have been devastating.” Dr. Fowler comments quietly, and Lena sets her jaw.

“I don’t know how I feel about her anymore. I don’t know if I can trust her.”

“That’s fair, you deserve to feel that way.”

Something in Lena settles at that. Up until now, she’s been berating herself for her anger. Like she was wrong for thinking bad of the great Supergirl. But now, she feels validated.

“I bought a whole company for her, you know. . . “

* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The rest of her session with Dr. Fowler is cathartic, if only because she can finally air out feelings without fear of judgment, with someone who gives her constructive feedback.

On her way out, she checks in with the receptionist.

“Jess scheduled you for two sessions a week, your next appointment is Thursday at 2. Is that okay?”'

Lena can’t help but roll her eyes. She definitely owes Jess another raise.

“Sounds perfect.”

* - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s surprisingly hard for her to fall into her post Kara routine. More often than not, she finds herself looking for her best friend in her downtime.

Kara’s presence has become a staple in her life, and she can’t help but mourn the loss.

Even though she knows whatever dream she had of them is lost.

It’s infuriating.

The one time she gets attached to someone,  it backfires.

Dr. Fowler says that she has ‘abandonment issues’, but she doesn’t feel abandoned, just. . . lost.

Kara Danvers was her reason for existing for so long. The drive behind every decision she made.

She just wanted Kara to be happy, but it turns out that Kara is a completely different person than she thought.

Dr. Fowler challenges her, asks her how she feels about Supergirl, separate from Kara.

And honestly, she doesn’t know.

At first she felt like she had to like Supergirl, if only to combat her brother’s dangerous rhetoric with Superman.

But then . . . Supergirl was nice, and good, and she saved Lena’s life on numerous occasions.

Not to mention she was the most beautiful woman Lena had ever seen, minus Kara, of course.

Kara with her glasses and dorky blunders.

Though she supposes, now that she thinks about it, that those blunders come from less of a place of awkwardness and more from the place of an alien being unsure of earth customs. She finds it endearing, in a way that makes her uncomfortable, and Dr. Fowler smiles softly before letting the subject drop.

The good thing about being in Metropolis is that she doesn’t hear a single news story about Supergirl.

Superman, maybe, but Supergirl is noticeably absent.

It’s refreshing.

So it shocks her even more when she gets a surprise visitor.

“Ms. Luthor, I’m sorry, I tried to stop her, but she’s got a badge, and a gun, and I wasn’t sure if -“

Lena’s eyes settle on none other than Alex Danvers.

“It’s fine, Jess, don’t worry about it. “

Jess looks between them for a long moment before she heads back to her desk.

“Alex.” Lena says once Jess is through the door.

“Lena. Kara told me you know her secret.”

“Ahh, are you here to mock me?”

“Mock you?” Alex brow crinkles in a way that’s so much like Kara it almost hurts. “I’m not here to mock you, I’m here to see if you needed a friend. I know I’m not as close as you and Kara, but I thought I’d at least offer my support.”

“Support?”

Alex sighs heavily.

“Look, ever since I was 14, protecting Kara’s secret identity has been my main goal. My parents entrusted me with it, and . . .  I never really got over it.”

“She never lied to you about her secret identity though.” Lena scoffs.

“No.” Alex concedes. “But I lied to her about mine.”

Lena’s head snaps up, eyeing Alex like she’s the last oracle.

"For four years, I lied to her about my job. I told her I was involved in biomedical engineering, that I was a sales rep for some company when really I worked for the DEO.”

“The Department of Extranormal Operations.” Lena clarifies.

“Exactly, and I didn’t even tell her what I was doing, because I wanted to protect her.”

“That’s still not -“

“I shot her down,” Alex continues. “I shot her down with Kryptonite arrows. Because I didn’t trust anyone else to make the shot. I shot my own sister with the one thing that hurts her, when she thought I was a sales rep.”

“What’s your point, Alex?”

“My point is that sometimes we lie to the people we love because we think it will protect them, even if it ends up hurting them in the end.”

“So you side with her then.” Lena concludes.

“No, I don’t, I . . . look, as Supergirl’s protector, I’m glad she waited to tell you, because the less people who know, the better, it’s not even because you’re a Luthor, it’s just common sense. But as your friend. . . she was wrong not to tell you, and you deserved to know the truth. It’s not always black and white, sometimes good intentions make for bad actualities. I can understand why Kara didn’t tell you, and I can also understand why you’re upset. I’m just saying, sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to, sometimes we lie to the people we love and sometimes we think we know what’s best for them, even when we don't.

“But no matter what happens between you and my sister, just know that you’re still my friend, and I still support you. I know we’re not as close as you and Kara, but I’m here for you; if you need me. “

“You’re here for me?” Lena asks incredulously.

“I’m am, and I’m sorry you got the raw end of the stick. If it were anyone but Kara, I’d go beat her up for you. In fact, I have a red sun room for training, I still can if you really want me to.”

Lena’s voice breaks in a sob, and Alex stares at her strangely.

“Oh god, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do with criers, please don’t.” she holds out her arms and Lena collapses into them. “Do you want a hug? Will a hug help? I can do a hug.” She whispers as rock solid arms close around Lena.

Are both of the Danvers sisters jacked?

“Did you really shoot Kara down with Kryptonite arrows?” Lena hiccups.

“Yeah, I did. One of the biggest regrets of my life. Just like I’m sure not telling you the truth is one of Kara’s.”

“You’re her sister, you’re supposed to say that.”

“Look, maybe I am. But I don’t have to say this - stay mad for a while, she deserves it. But I hope to see you around soon, game night just isn’t the same without you.”

Lena wants to say more, but she doesn’t, letting Alex pull away.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth, because I’ve been protecting Kara since she was 13 years old. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t deserve to know the truth.”

“Easy for you to say. You were in on the secret.”

“I was.” Alex concedes. “And now you are too, what are you going to do with it?”

Lena doesn’t answer, and Alex backs away.

“I have to get back to National City, but call me when you come home, ok?”

Lena nods, even though she’s unsure of the details of her returning to National City.

She feels the warmth of Alex’s hug long after the other woman is gone.

* - - — - - - - - - - -

She stays in Metropolis for a month and a half, a fact she’s sure Jess and Dr. Fowler are conspiring together towards.

She can’t deny that she feels exceptionally better on the plane ride to National City than she did on her trip to Metropolis.

She hates to admit it, but therapy really has helped her, and she has Dr. Fowler’s number stored in her phone and ready for face time sessions.

She doesn’t exactly forgive Kara, but she maybe understands where she was coming from - even if she doesn’t agree with it.

Still, she doesn’t expect what she finds when she comes back to National City.

Supergirl is no where to be found.

According to all reports that she can find, Supergirl disappeared two weeks after she did. It makes sense, she supposes, but what she doesn’t understand is where Kara is now.

Lena's back now, so where is Supergirl?

She tempted to text Kara and ask, but she holds out, unwilling to give in like that. Curiosity isn’t enough to send her crawling back. The anger has faded, but the hurt still lingers. She misses the Kara that she used to know, but she still isn’t sure where she stands now.

A few days after she comes back, she meets Alex for lunch - at a craft beer bar, because Dr. Fowler says it’s important for her be around people who care and she figures Alex is the closest she’s got. But still, she refuses to ask about Kara, and Alex doesn’t offer any information; though she does insist on meeting up again soon.  

Despite the million other things she has to do, one question overtakes her mind.

Where is Kara?

A look at CatCo records reveals that she’s been clocking in to work as scheduled, so maybe the question she should really be asking is ‘where is Supergirl?’

Later, back at her apartment,  she pulls out the switch that Kara sent her and sets it on her coffee table. An hour of staring at it doesn’t give her anymore answers than she had before.

* - - - - - — - - - - -

She finally gets her answer a week later when a school bus is locked up in a battle  with a few aliens. The bus stop is on her walk to get coffee, so she gets an unintentional front row view.

Her mind is racing, trying to think of some way to help in this post-Supergirl world that they're apparently in.  Luckily the DEO vans show up just as she’s debating how weaponize a fire hydrant, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

She breathes an even bigger sigh when Supergirl shows up out of nowhere to join the fight, and all of National City + Lena is enthralled. Especially when she sees Kara’s new suit.

It’s an all blue, skin tight number that Lena definitely hasn’t seen before, and the missing skirt adds to the attractiveness.  

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do much to distract Lena from the fight, especially when Kara puts herself in unnecessary danger.

The anger she thought she was over is back, only this time, it’s for Kara.

How dare Supergirl put her friend in danger like that, by fighting that horribly! Her speed is definitely slowed, and some of her movements are jerky and uncoordinated. Frankly, she looks like a prize fighter that took an extended leave of absence and showed up to the championship match without even a warm-up.

Which, Lena supposes, is exactly what happened.

She holds her breath for what feels like hours, refusing to exhale until the hostile alien is deposited with the waiting DEO agents nearby and Kara is safely on the ground.

She knows the exact moment that Kara spots her, shoulders tensing and her forehead crinkling.

Grinding her teeth, she watches as Kara takes a tentative step in her direction.

“Kara."

“Lena, I -"

If Kara had gotten hurt because Supergirl was on some hare-brained, self righteous mission to just jump back into action without even making sure she’s ready, Lena’s going to . . .

Well, she doesn’t really know what she’s going to do.

In fact, she barely realizes she’s made a decision until her fist is halfway to Supergirl’s face.

Bad move.

Stupid brain.

Thankfully, Kara shifts with the punch, but it still feels like she laid a haymaker into a brick wall.

“Shit! Shit! Fuck!” she doubles over, clutching at her hand, but soft fingers pry her hands apart and cold air leaves a frosty mist over her bruised knuckles as Kara uses her freeze breath to soothe the sting.

“Nothing’s broken, thankfully. Damn it, Lena, you really could have hurt yourself, you have to be careful -“

“I have to be careful?! I have to be careful?! I’m not the one who’s going around fighting aliens when it looks like I barely remember how to fly!”

To her surprise, Kara actually looks remorseful.

“I tried, Lena, I tried so hard, not to be Supergirl, but I -“ she gestures at the school bus. “- the kids, Lena, I couldn’t let them die just because -“

Lena interrupts her.

“You tried to stop being Supergirl?” That would certainly explain things, but it’s a concept Lena has a hard time wrapping her head around. “Why?”

Even as she towers over Lena in her cape and boots, Kara still somehow looks so small.

“Because you hate Supergirl, and I didn’t want you to hate me. I thought maybe if I could stop being Supergirl then maybe - well, I don’t know what I thought, but . . .”

Kara continues to speak, but Lena stops listening.

Instead, her eyes settle on something glinting in the sunlight.

A white gold chain around Kara’s neck, the sapphire of the pendant nearly hidden in the blue of her suit.

Suddenly, everything is too much.

Horns are honking, people are talking, and there’s a stupid bird that just won’t SHUT UP. Almost before she can make out what’s happening, Lena finds herself at the brink of a panic attack.

“Kara,” she fights to stay upright, holding up  a hand to stop the flow of the other woman’s words. “Get me out of here.”

“What?”

“Get me out of here, please.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere, please, just - “

Before she can blink, Kara’s scoops her up and they’re flying off. She has no idea where Kara is taking her, but it takes long enough that by the time they touch down, her panic attack is mostly over; Kara’s strong grip and the white noise of the wind working wonders.

They land on a deserted beach, and Lena looks out over the ocean for a long moment, trying to place where they are.

Until Kara clears her throat.

“Umm, should I like . . . put you down? I mean if you want me to hold you that’s fine, you’re really light, I just umm, well I didn’t know if you wanted to -“

“Kara.” she squeezes the shoulder under her hand, bringing the adorable rambling to a stop. “It’s fine, you can put me down, thank you.”

“Right, umm, here.” Kara bends, lowering her arm so that Lena’s feet can reach the ground, and she uses Kara’s for balance before stepping away.

“You know if I would have known it was really Kara Danvers holding me all those times you saved me, I would have enjoyed it a lot more.” Lena says without thinking, and Kara blushes all the way to the tips of her ears.

“Sorry!” she immediately backtracks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, it was just awkward, and I thought ‘why not make it more awkward?’”

“No, it’s fine! I mean I like holding you.”

The awkward tension lingers between them for a long moment before Lena breaks it, turning to stare out over the ocean. She waits until Kara steps up beside her to speak.

“Where are we?”

"Somewhere in the Caribbean? I don’t know the exact coordinates, just a little place I found when I was looking for a place to think and look at the stars after you . . . after you left.”

“It’s beautiful.” Lena observes, and she can feel Kara’s eyes studying her profile. After a moment, she turns to look at Kara too, taking in the face she used to know so well.

“You cut your bangs.” she finally says, and Kara blinks at her from beneath the fringe.

“Well, you said you hated my ‘stupid hair’, so . . . “ Kara shrugs, and Lena holds back a smile.

“Is that why you changed your suit too?”

“No!” Kara’s forehead crinkles. “Maybe. Yes. I just didn’t want you to hate me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You hate Supergirl.” Kara counters.

Lena turns back to the ocean with a sigh.

“A while back, my therapist asked me how I felt about Supergirl, apart from you. And when she asked, I didn’t know what to say, because I wasn’t sure. But I’ve had some time to think about it, and I’ve come to some conclusions.”

She faces Kara before continuing.

“Supergirl is . . . she is kind, and she is good, and she's saved my life on numerous occasions. But she is also self-righteous, and arrogant, and stubborn - almost to the point of being foolhardy on occasion. . . She broke my heart once.”

Lena’s voice cracks, and her eyes fill with tears as Kara’s head drops to look at her boots.

“But she also made the decision to put on that suit and help people - people who don’t always deserve it - at great risk to herself. She could just hide away her powers and be a reporter and spend her Thursday nights playing scrabble with her friends instead of putting out factory fires. And I would love that person, because that person is enough. But instead she chooses to use her powers for good, she puts her life on the line to protect people. And for some reason she has this deeply rooted belief that people are good; even when I know for a fact that she’s seen some of the worst that humanity has to offer.”

“Lena -“

“Let me finish.” she says gently and Kara nods, tears streaking down her face.

“I don’t hate you, Kara. I could never hate you. And it’s taken a lot of therapy, and a lot of long talks with Alex, but . . .” She takes a moment to put her words in order.

“The way I see it, I have two options. I can move to a new city. I can work at a different office in a different state where nothing will be tainted with your memory and I can pretend like Kara Danvers never existed. But I don’t like that option.”

Kara’s face lightens marginally, but her eyes are still wary.

“What’s option two?”

“Option two is that I forgive you, and we start over. This time with no secrets - not about our identities, or our feelings, or our pasts. I want it all out on the table, and I want us to try. And it may not work and it won’t be easy, and I want you to see Dr. Fowler with me. But my heart has been shattered, regardless, and I can either fix it with you or without you, and I want to do it with you; because life is so much better with you in it. Even the bad parts.” The tears spill over now, and she chokes out a sob, Kara’s face crumpling.

“Lena, I am so sorry. And I never in a million years meant to hurt you. You’re my red sun. You make me feel so grounded, and home. And I realize now that I was using you as crutch to deal with this double life I lead, and I thought maybe somehow if I kept you separate then things would be different. But I was so wrong to do that to you. I should have told you the truth years ago, and I promise I will never keep secrets from you again. I will do whatever I have to, to make this work. I’ll go to therapy, I’ll communicate, I’ll literally fly to the moon if I have to.”

“Will you share your potstickers?” Lena can’t help asking, desperate to lighten the mood, if only for a second.

Kara sobs a laugh.

“You can have all the potstickers. I would never eat a potsticker again if it would make you happy. I would do anything you asked of me and not give it a second thought to show you how sorry I am.”

Lena studies her for long moment.

“Would you really give up being Supergirl for me?”

“Lena . . . I don’t think you understand. You’ve made me indestructible. Whatever weakness I still have under this yellow sun, you’ve come up with the technology to fix it. Nothing from earth can hurt me. But that day on the rooftop, when you walked away . . . it was like watching Krypton explode all over again. And there’s some sort of poetic justice about the person who made me indestructible also being the only one who can bring me to my knees. But would I give up Supergirl for you. I think showed today that I’m not very good at giving it up, but I would try again, for you.”

Lena can see the sincerity in her eyes, in the way that her arms are halfway outstretched as if just waiting for an invitation to pull Lena into a hug.

“I would never ask you to give up a part of who you are. In fact the reason that I was so upset when I found out was because you felt like you had to hide it from me in the first place. I want you to be yourself, and Supergirl is part of you; I just need you to share her with me.”

Kara nods slowly.

“I can do that.”

They stand there, staring at each other on the beach, the waves lapping against the shore, and for the first time since Lex told her the truth, Lena feels at peace.

“I know this is kind of awkward but . . . can I have a hug? I really missed your hugs.” Lena shifts awkwardly in the sand, but she shouldn’t have worried, because Kara’s eyes light up and her mouth twists into the soft smile that Lena loves so much.

“Of course, get in here, bring it in.” Kara’s arms widen even further, and she takes a step towards Lena before wrapping her up in a bear hug.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Kara whispers against her hair. “I was afraid that I’d never get you back.”

For a few long minutes, Lena just lets herself breathe, content in the way that Kara’s arms are just slightly too tight around her, her fingers clutching at Kara’s cape.

“It’s kind of weird, hugging you in the suit.” She says, finally breaking the silence.

“I can change?" Kara offers, starting to pull away, but Lena holds her in place.

“No, I wanna get used to it. I can’t limit my hug time to just when you’re not in the suit.”

Kara settles at that, and Lena waits another minute before she pulls away, unable to stop the smile that’s spreading across her face.

As much as it hurts, it’s good to have Kara back.

“So what now?” Kara asks, seemingly nervous in the aftermath of their hug.

“Now we’re going to get dinner. I’m picking,” she clarifies, “and paying, because it’s going to be fancy, and I’m going to make you eat vegetables.”

Kara’s nose scrunches.

“Fancy just means smaller portions.”

“Perks of being a billionaire, I can buy you as much food as you can eat.”

Kara’s nose stays scrunched, but she doesn’t complain further, so Lena continues.

“Then we’re going to talk, we’re going to lay everything out in the open, and we’re going to start this off right.”

“Your place? Or Mine?"

“Yours please, I left my NCU sweatshirt there last time I was over, and I want to get it back.”

“I’m sorry, your NCU sweatshirt?” Kara scoffs.

Lena raises an eyebrow.

“I went to NCU and I’m the one who bought that shirt!”

Lena’s eyebrow gets even closer to her hairline.

“You went to MIT!” Kara insists, and they face off for a moment before Kara finally caves.

“Fine, it’s your sweatshirt. That you sometimes let me borrow when it stops smelling like me and you don’t want to wear it anymore.”

Lena blushes at being caught in her scheme, and Kara grins.

“Ha! I knew it! It was always suspicious when it would randomly show back up.”

The glare Lena gives her is withering, but it does little to shrink Kara’s grin.

“Will you please take me home? Before I decide to add a plate of Brussel sprouts to our order just for you.”

“Geez, I was just joking, you didn’t have to bring Brussel sprouts into this!” Kara says with a laugh before stepping forward.

For the second time that day, Kara bends to scoop Lena up into her arms, but before she can, a thought strikes Lena and she taps Kara on the shoulder.

“Kara, before we go, I just have one more question.”

“Anything.”

“Why are you wearing the necklace?”

“Oh.” Kara’s hand reaches up to grip the pendant between her fingers. "That’s easy, because my best friend gave it to me, and then she disappeared, so this was the best way I had to keep her close.”

And Lena knows that they should probably take this slow, and they still have so much to talk about, but something about those blue eyes makes her lose all self control.

She leans forward, one hand  on Kara’s crest and the other on her cheek, and brings their lips together. She’s imagined kissing Kara more times than she’d like to admit, and she’s envisioned so many different possibilities for how it would be, but reality?

Reality is positively mind blowing.

For a moment, Kara seems stunned, but then she steps into the kiss; arms wrapping around Lena’s back and pulling her in.

It’s the best kiss of Lena’s entire existence, and as Kara’s lips move under hers, she can’t help but think that some things are worth fighting for, no matter the cost. Because not everyone is out to hurt her, and some people really do have good intentions -  at least that’s Dr. Fowler tells her. And maybe, she can start believing it too.

All too soon, Kara’s lips pull away, though her hands stay where they are - inching dangerously close to Lena’s backside.

“So just to clarify -“ Kara starts, and Lena takes a little pleasure in the way her cheeks are flushed and her breath is coming in puffs.

“Are we at the kissing stage now? Or this a one time thing? It’s cool either way, I just don’t want to overstep -“

“Kara Danvers!” Lena cuts her off with a laugh. “Shut up and kiss me.”

“Oh, wait, cause while we’re being open and honest -“

Lena’s heart rate spikes.

“- My real name is Kara Zor-El.”

“Zor-El, huh?”

Kara nods, a contented smile on her face.

“It sounds nice when you say it.”

“Well then, Kara Zor-el, shut up and kiss me."

And if she thought kissing Kara the first time was good, the second time?

Even better.

[darks-ink]

Play Your Part 5

Chapter 5: Not Only Will I Soar Again

I am Very Boldly posting this chapter with linebreaks and readmores and praying it doesn’t turn out like the last one. And if it does, well... Tumblr let me edit back the readmore today so it won’t be messed up forever, anyway.

[first] [previous] [next] [AO3] [FFnet]

Danny’s eyes watered as he reached out. One hand, shaky with emotion, made contact with the picture. Ultimate proof that it was… that this was real.

“Is-- Is that--”

“A ghost core?” Tucker grinned wider. “That’s exactly what it is, yeah.”

“But then…” Danny frowned, one hand still on the core on the photo, the other reaching for his chest. “Why isn’t it… working, then? If I have the core, why don’t I have the powers?”

“Well, we can’t know for sure, of course, but…” Jazz placed one finger on the photograph as well, tapping the core. “This isn’t an active ghost core. We have pictures of Danny’s, and of a few regular ghosts, and this one looks even less active than Danny’s when he’s in human form.”

“Oh.” One hand still rested on his chest, as if he could feel the core’s hum now that he knew it existed. “How? Why?”

“We already figured that you lost your powers because you purged your ectoplasmic contamination, right?” Jazz shrugged, gently pulling the photograph out of his hand. “In doing so you must’ve run your core out of ectoplasm, forcing it into some sort of hibernation. I think, if we can carefully feed it ectoplasm again, that it might activate again.”

“And that’ll get me my powers again?” Danny brightened up slightly, hope unfurling in his chest. It sounded… it all sounded very possible. Would it just be that easy?

“Well, probably. Like I said, we can’t know until we try.” Jazz sighed, placing the photo on the table Danny was sitting on. “At least I know a good way to get you ectoplasm in a somewhat safe manner.”

“Oh lord, Jazz, you want him to eat--” Tucker made a disgusted face, pretending to vomit. It wasn’t very encouraging, to be honest.

“Oh grow up.” She shoved the boy, turning to Sam, who looked far more steady. “Sam, can you go fetch some of the leftovers in the fridge? You know how to recognize the right ones, yeah?”

“If they try to bite me they’re good.” Sam nodded, turning around like she hadn’t just said that food might actively attack her, hello? What the hell was going on here?

Danny cleared his throat, drawing Jazz’ attention back to him. “What’s, uh. What this ‘safe manner’ of ectoplasm consumption?”

“Well, it’s.” She blushed, twirling a strand of hair as she tried to find the right words. “Uh, you know how in this universe, our parents are ghost hunters?”

“Uh huh,” he said, slowly.

“And ghosts are made out of ectoplasm. Which means that for their inventions, they do a lot of experiments with said ectoplasm, including ways to use this to make food faster?”

“Oh.” He still didn’t understand where she was going with this.

Jazz opened her mouth to explain further, but a strange hissing sounded by the stairs, and Danny twisted to look at that instead. Sam was coming down, her arms full of various plastic containers, some of which were duct-taped shut.

“Got the leftovers you asked for. Is the malevolence directly related to how heavily contaminated they are?”

“I think so.” Jazz shrugged, releasing her hair. “Not sure. Mom and Dad never really looked into it much.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Danny waved his hands around, drawing the attention of everyone else back to him. He ignored the jostling of the plastic bins for the moment. “You want me to eat… contaminated food? Living food?”

“Well, it’s not living, technically.” Jazz wiggled her hand a little, making a so-so motion. “They’re kind of… reanimated, I guess? We’re starting off slow, with the stuff that just glows. Anything that moves we’ll re-cook first.”

“Like the weenies,” Tucker added helpfully, taking one especially violent container from Sam. The duct-tape on it seemed to strain to hold it closed, and through the plastic Danny could see sausage-like shapes bouncing around. “These are definitely some of the worst in the fridge.”

“Yeah, and the fact that they’ve been in there for months hasn’t helped.” Sam shook her head, moving over to the table to put down the other stuff. “Anyway, don’t worry about it, Danny. Our Danny can eat this stuff just fine, and so can any ordinary ghost. We’re not giving it to you until we’re sure you’ve got enough ghost in you to do the same.”

“Oh. Um.” He looked at the boxes that now shifted over the table, driven by the force of their contents. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t thank us until it works, man.” Tucker placed his one container on the table as well. When it immediately threatened to throw itself off again, he placed a heavy-looking invention on top of it. “Seriously, if we make you eat this stuff and it doesn’t work you’ll hate us.”

“Tucker, stop discouraging him,” Jazz scolded, picking up one of the containers that lacked duct-tape. “Danny, it’ll be fine. Mom and Dad and I have eaten this stuff on multiple occasions, and you’re supposed to have this stuff in your body. Do you really think I would be giving this to you if I thought it would be a problem?”

“No,” he said, “but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried feeding me something weird as a big sister prank.”

Jazz made a face, then nodded. “Ah, I guess that that’s fair.” She opened one box, showing its contents to him. “How do you feel about starting with these mildly glowing carrots?”

Bad, he wanted to say.

“I guess they’re… okay?” he said instead, taking the bin from her. They did, indeed, look like regular carrots. Y’know, if carrots came in ecto-green and glowed. “Do I… have to?”

“You can try the Portal too, if you prefer that,” Sam suggested, leaning against the table. “Get it over with in one quick swoop.”

Danny made a face, then shoved one baby carrot into his mouth. The moment he bit down he pulled a face. It tasted like what he imaged raw ectoplasm might taste like; copper and rusted pennies and something like lemons? Except it still had a mild taste of carrot, and its texture was mostly carrot-like. Mostly, because it was just a little goopy on the inside.

He slapped his free hand over his mouth, trying to push away his desire to puke. Come on Danny, just bite through it!

Swallowing, he made another grimacing face at the others.

“Ah, come on, they’re not that bad.” Jazz clicked her tongue, shaking her head disapprovingly. “How is it that you guys in the halfa-universe are less used to eating ectoplasm infused food, huh? Am I the only one wondering about that?”

“No, I was too,” Sam admitted, looking far too amused for Danny’s liking. “And I bet our Danny is, too. He’ll definitely be enjoying the break where he doesn’t have to worry about his lunch coming to life.”

Danny sighed, placing the carrots down again. “Can I try something else? Maybe that’ll be better.”

Tucker snorted disbelievingly, but to his credit, did push one of the other boxes towards Danny. “Here, I think this one is just glowing toast.”

“Ugh, toast.” He pulled off the lid, revealing, indeed, several slices of ecto-green toast. “Well, can’t be worse than regular toast, right?”

He took a bite of one of the slices. Wow, hey, that’s actually worse than regular toast, who would’ve thought? Again that taste of copper and lemons and sour metal, although the inside wasn’t quite as soft as with the carrots. Just felt like untoasted bread instead of goop.

“Well?” Tucker asked, a grin on his face again. “Better or worse?”

“Better than the carrots,” Danny said as he swallowed the bite. “And honestly? Not much worse than regular toast.”

“You want jam or something with that?” Sam asked, turning one of the slices in her hand as she looked it over. “That might mask the taste a little.”

“Hm, maybe.” He took another bite, trying to chew it away quickly. “Egh, yeah, let’s give that a shot if you’ve got some.”

“I’ll go look,” Jazz said, ruffling his hair as she passed him by. “Sam, Tucker, stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble?” Tucker gasped dramatically. “We would never!”

Danny shot him an unimpressed look as he chewed away another bite of sour toast. “You two literally tried to zap me with a giant ghost portal while she was away.”

“Don’t get involved, Fenton.” Tucker swung a finger in his direction. “Eat your toast and shut up.”

“Yes sir.” He took another bite of the toast. Against all expectations, he was actually kind of getting used to the taste of ectoplasm-infused food. It felt kind of warm in his throat, like it was melting as he chewed it away.

He’d finished his first slice of toast when Jazz reappeared downstairs, carrying a few types of jam and some margarine. “Wasn’t sure what would go best with, uh, ectoplasm,” she said, blushing a little. “What do you want to try first?”

“Margarine, I guess?” He shrugged, picking up a new slice of toast to butter it. “I think I just had to get used to the toast, anyway. It’s not too bad anymore. Kind of nice, actually? Warm and melty.”

Jazz frowned, sharing a glance with Sam and Tucker. “Warm? Ectoplasm is cold and goopy, usually.”

“Oh.” Danny took a bite of his still-unbuttered toast, tasting it carefully. “No, it definitely tastes warm. Like, pleasant warm, like honey?”

“Maybe that’s what it tastes like for half-ghosts?” Tucker suggested, his brow creased in consideration. “They are made out of the stuff, so of course it wouldn’t feel cold to them.”

“Does that mean it’s working?” Danny asked as he started buttering the toast. The taste of lemon and metal hadn’t gone away entirely, and he wasn’t too hot on it still. “If I just keep eating enough toast, that’ll fix my core? It’s really just that easy?”

“I mean, you’ll probably have to move on to something stronger eventually.” Sam tapped on one of the taped boxes, ignoring the way it jerked in response. “Danny has a lot of ectoplasm in his body, usually. If you want to recover all of that in a short time, you’ll need to eat more ectoplasm and less actual food. There’s only so much food you can eat before you’re full, after all.”

“Right.” He took a bite of buttered toast. Not bad, actually. The butter definitely offset the sourness, even if wasn’t entirely functional against the taste of copper. “So when should I switch, if the higher amounts could be dangerous?”

“Finish off all the toast first, then we’ll see.” Jazz looked distastefully at the weenie-container, which seemed to be trying to throw off the heavy weight that pinned it down. “Honestly, we might try roasting the weenies. They’re definitely the highest in ectoplasm to food ratio, and they won’t fill much either way.”

Danny eyed the box suspiciously. Then, rather than speak up about the fact that these hot dogs might just be the most dangerous thing in the lab, he took another bite of toast.

“We, uh, should probably get them roasting sooner than later, then.” Tucker leaned down next to the box, his frown deepening. “I think that they’re trying to chew through the plastic.”

“Do you think the Thermos would work on them?” Sam asked, her tone light as if this was perfectly normal. “Or are they not ghostly enough?”

“That might just suck out all the ectoplasm and leave behind the weenies.” Jazz sighed, stepping away to dig through some equipment. “If they break out, just trap them in something metal. Or, like, trap them in a box with something else and let that distract them. I’ll look for something moderately safe to cook them with.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tucker declared cheerfully, frown gone again. He picked up a larger plastic bin, opening it and peeking inside. “Ah, non-sentient ham. That should keep them occupied if they break out.”

Sam sighed and shook her head, but didn’t comment. Danny shoved another piece of toast inside his mouth. If she didn’t want to comment, neither did he.

But, really. How was this world so much crazier than his own world? Is this what their planet would be like if it was ruled by humans instead of half-ghosts? Crazy. Maybe they really were still out there somewhere, surviving unseen thanks to their sheer insanity.

“Well, so, most of the stuff I found I wouldn’t trust around food,” Jazz said plainly as she rejoined them. In one hand she held a metal pot, the inside stained a suspicious mix of green and black. The other, she held behind her back. “I wouldn’t worry about the ectoplasm on this, except that it seems to be burned to hell and back, and I don’t think the charcoal will be any good. And I don’t trust the bunsen burners with this, either.”

She placed the burned pan on a nearby table, then swung the object in her other hand around to her front, using her other hand to hold it up as well. It looked like a weapon, but not any Danny was familiar with. Sci-fi esque, silver with glowing green accents. Round and shiny, like a cylinder with another cylinder on top. This, at least, looked kind of like the water containers on a water gun. The vivid green really just kind of reinforced this appearance.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with that one.” Sam stepped closer, twisting her head to look at the weapon. “What is it? A flamethrower?”

“Yep,” she simply said, placing it in Sam’s arms. “Here you go, I’m pretty sure you’re the best shot of all of us.”

“Tuck’s pretty good too, and you’re not too shabby either.” But as she said this, Sam shifted the flamethrower in her arms, gripping it properly. She grinned like she was absolutely loving this. God, humans were scary. Danny was faintly sorry that he had ever felt lesser for thinking he was human if they were all like this.

Rather than get involved, he took another bite of toast and jumped off of the table. He could watch the proceedings from somewhere further away, he was sure.

Tucker lifted the machine off of the bin that contained the hot dogs, pinning the box down with his own strength instead. “I’ll count down and then dump them on the table. Got it?”

Sam, grin widening, nodded. “Got it.” She turned to gun onto Tucker, holding it steady with one finger already on the trigger. “On 3?”

“I was thinking on fire, actually.” Tucker nodded back, licked his lips, then started counting. “3. 2.”

“1,” the both of them counted in sync, muscles bunching as they got ready.

“Fire!” Tucker shouted, peeling the container open and spilling the contents onto the table, then stepping back in the same swift motion.

The hot dogs seemed thrown off by the sudden movement, sitting dazedly on the metal tabletop a long moment. They were ecto-green, glowing, and they seemed to have… eyes and pointed teeth? Yikes.

On the shout Sam had pulled the trigger, and bright flames spilled from the gun. Despite his expectations, they weren’t pure green; pink was scattered throughout the flames, and the inner column was white-hot.

The reanimated meat screeched when the flames reached them, but they were quickly silenced under the steady fire.

An unmeasurably long moment later, Sam cut off the flames. Jazz stepped forward to inspect the results, expression carefully blank. Then she smiled, expression lighting up. “Looks good to me! I think we can finally put the Frankenweenies to use.”

“Frankenweenies?” Danny repeated incredulously, swallowing his last bite of toast. “Really?”

Jazz hummed. When she turned back to him, she was holding one of the hot dogs pinched between her fingers. The flames hadn’t lessened its glow, but they had turned it into a darker green. The eyes and mouth seemed to have somehow disappeared entirely. “What do you think? Does it look appealing?”

“No,” Danny said honestly, taking it from her. “But neither did the toast.”

He took a bite, chewing it experimentally. The skin was like… not like a hot dog, but more like a regular sausage? Somewhat tough, a little chewy, but not in a bad way. The inside was soft and warm and gooey, and actually kinda sweet. Like it was filled with honey.

“That’s… pretty good, actually,” he said when he swallowed it. “I mean, I don’t think it beats actual food, especially since the green is a real deterrent, but…”

“What, the glow is fine with you?” Sam scoffed, but the smile on her face didn’t leave. “Priorities, Danny.”

“Eh, the glow isn’t too out of place where I’m from.” Danny shrugged, taking another bite of the hot dog and swallowing it. “With all the half-ghosts and stuff. My parents, especially Mom, they use telekinesis pretty often, so stuff often glows in and around the house.”

“That’s fair,” Sam decided, nodding approvingly. Her fingers drummed on the barrel of the flamethrower. “Hey Jazz, do you want this thing back or can I keep it?”

“If you get in trouble for having it I’m not taking responsibility.” Jazz crossed her arms, twisting to look at Sam. “My parents will just blame its disappearance on a ghost anyway.”

“Nice.” Sam flipped a switch on the side, and the glowing elements dulled down. A safety switch, then. “I’ll find a spot for it, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Jazz said, just as Danny hiccuped. Loudly.

“Sorry,” he apologized, hiccuping again. Something in his chest rattled strangely. “I think something didn’t go down right.”

He clenched his eyes closed, dropping the half-eaten sausage back on the table. His other hand came up to claw at his chest. Something felt wrong, it hurt, it hurt--

Another hiccup, following with a thrum in his chest. He opened his eyes again, staring wide-eyed at his friends, his sister, hoping for some sort of help or advice or--

“Look!” Jazz exclaimed, enthusiastically. “See, I told you it would be fine!”

“Fine?!” Danny bit back, his voice peaking up high as a hiccup burst through the last half of the word.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” Jazz gestured at him like it was an explanation. “See, and your eyes brightened even further. Must be your core.”

Tucker frowned, looking a little concerned. “Are you alright, dude? Besides the hiccuping, obviously.”

Danny groaned back, his fingers digging into his chest even more. His core? Was that what this was? Why did it-- “Why does it hurt?”

“It’s not… supposed to.” Jazz darted closer, suddenly, kneeling a little to look at his face. She pried his hand off of his chest, placing her own there instead. “Maybe it’s because it was out of energy for so long? Like when you boot up a machine after it’s been off for really long, and it sounds like it’s struggling to get functional again?”

“Or like when your muscles hurt way more if you haven’t been active in a while?” Sam suggested, tone not as jubilant anymore. “That could be it, yeah. Should we hold off and give it time to work through it, or should we try feeding it more energy?”

“I don’t know,” Jazz said, slowly. “Danny, do you think you could eat?”

“Dunno.” He huffed, feeling faintly breathless. It felt like something was burrowing in his chest, trying to shove all his organs aside to make room for itself. “Maybe.”

“Alright, that’s a no in Danny-speak.” Jazz took him by the arm, gently tugging him towards a table. “Sit down, tell us if it gets worse.”

He nodded, letting her shove him onto the table. He tried clawing at his chest again, but Jazz swatted his hand away and he gave up.

It was hard for him to tell how much time passed. For most of it, he had his eyes closed, focusing exclusively on the feeling in his chest. As the pain receded, he started to feel his core more clearly. It was pulsing, thrilling and humming in his chest. Like a heart, but also… not? It was clearly trying to drag in energy, awake but not… not satisfied, he didn’t think.

Once it felt as stable as it would get, he opened his eyes again, looking at his best friends as his sister. “It, uh. I think it’s done. But I don’t think that it has all the power it needs, still.”

Jazz nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Didn’t think so. But we got it enough energy to wake up, so if it’s functional we can try feeding ectoplasm straight to your ghost form.” She started, looking at him somewhat guiltily. “If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“I mean… sure? Assuming that I can shift right now.” He shrugged, then settled one hand on the back of his neck to rub it.

“Do your parents have some of that Ecto-Dejecto still?” Sam asked, turning towards Jazz. “Danny uses it sometimes when he’s really really out of energy, but I think he stockpiles it all in his walls.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” Jazz perked up, gesturing at one of the nearby drawers. “I think they have some in there?”

Sam hummed, moving to search it. “Worst come to worst, we can try having Danny search through his own walls. If, uh, he can maintain that kind of intangibility, that is.”

He made a face, not that she could see. “Yeah, let’s not risk that.”

“Oh, wait, here it is already.” Sam straightened up, a tube of unnaturally bright ectoplasm in her hand. “We just need a needle, and for Danny to shift into his ghost form.”

“At least we won’t have to fight with his sleeve this time,” Tucker joked, nudging Danny. “Did you know how much of a hassle that is, to roll up the sleeves of those jumpsuits? Absolutely awful.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind?” He tried mentally poking his core. How were you supposed to shift to your ghost form, anyway? He thought he was doing it right, but he had no way of knowing whether he was doing it wrong, or if his core just didn’t have enough energy. “When should I shift?”

“Now’s fine,” Sam said, reappearing with a worryingly large syringe. It was filled with the same fake ectoplasm as the vial before. The ‘Ecto-Dejecto’, presumably. “We’re ready if you are.”

“Oh, joy,” he muttered, stirring his core more forcibly. He tried to encourage it, tried to picture himself as the photos he’d seen of Phantom. Tried to goad it with the lure of more energy.

Then, suddenly, it was like lightning crackled through him. Pure energy burst forth, sparking through his flesh and his skin but not hurting him. It formed a ring, bright and luminescent, and Danny felt like he could cry.

As with everyone else, with every shift he’d ever witnessed, the ring split into two. Twin halos of pure light danced over his body, inverting the colors everywhere they passed, until he was left in his black shirt and with white hair hanging down in his eyes.

“Arm,” Sam immediately commanded, like she hadn’t just witnessed something incredible and life-changing. When he didn’t respond, Jazz grabbed it and pulled it towards Sam for him.

He was so occupied with, well, everything, that he didn’t even notice the needle until its contents were being pushed into his body. It wasn’t even cold, not really. Just… weird? Very energetic. His core thrilled, immediately pulling in the energy provided.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, feeling the pulse of power throughout his entire body. His core hummed so loud that he wondered if everyone else could hear it, too, like the purr of a cat. “That’s… holy shit.”

“Sounds like it worked,” Tucker commented dryly, not even bothering to hide his smile. “Feeling good, ghost boy?”

“Yeah,” he answered, breathlessly. “Yeah, wow. It’s like… Like this weight in my chest is gone, suddenly. Like I’ve been dragging around my core this whole time, like a ball and chain, and finally I’m free.”

“How poetic.” Sam grinned, nudging him playfully. “Want to take your powers for a spin?”

“In the lab?” he asked, already pushing off of the table. “Are you sure?”

“We train Danny’s powers here all the time,” Tucker said dismissively, flapping a hand. “And it’ll be safer here than outside.”

“Fair enough.” He bounced a little on the ground, feeling lighter than usual. He wondered how floating worked. Didn’t it come naturally to--

“Oh.” He flipped in the air, maneuvering like he’s been doing it his whole life. “Wow, that’s really fun. Now I get why everyone’s always flying everywhere.”

“I guess I should’ve seen that coming.” Jazz grinned at him. “Danny’s favorite power is flight, too.”

“I can’t blame him!” Danny exclaimed, flying a lap at moderate speed through the lab. “It’s so much fun!”

“Alright, well, let’s run through a few more powers. Hopefully establishing that your powers work will trigger the switch back.”

“Yeah,” Danny hummed, feeling his core pulse with happiness at the thought of showing his parents his powers, before a spike of dread stabbed through it. “Unless your Danny has something he needs to achieve, too.”

Danny’s eyes watered as he reached out. One hand, shaky with emotion, wrapped around his mother’s wrist. “Wait.”

“Yes, sweetie?” She crouched down in front of him, smiling softly. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t.”

“Can’t what, kiddo?” His dad frowned as he, too, crouched by Danny.

“I…” He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all so nice.”

“Of course they are,” Jazz said, voice carefully blank. “They’re our parents. When have they ever not been nice?”

“That’s complicated,” he muttered back through his fingers. They’d never meant to be mean towards him, of course, but… but they’d uttered plenty of insults and threats towards Phantom. And that was… it was just hard to ignore, especially when faced with such complete and utter acceptance.

A silence fell, and Danny got the feeling that his parents and sister were sharing confused glances.

“What do you mean, son?” his dad finally asked, uncertainly. “We’ve always tried…”

I know.” He dragged his hands off of his face to shoot them a look that hopefully expressed how lost he felt. “You’ve been nothing but nice, I know. But you’re not-- I am not--” He groaned again, now in frustration at himself and his trouble to put his feelings into words.

Jazz narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you Danny?”

“Is he what?” his mom asked, at the same time that he shook his head. While she snapped her jaw shut, he corrected himself by nodding, then made a so-so motion with his hand.

“I’m Danny Fenton,” he finally said, giving up on his attempt at miming out an answer. “But I’m not… your Danny.”

“Oh,” both of his parents chimed, perfectly synced.

“Yeah.” He dragged a hand through his eyes, wiping away the half-formed tears. “I’m… yeah. It’s, um. Complicated, I guess.”

“How?” His mom reached for him, twisting his head like she could suddenly see differences that didn’t exist before. “Why? What happened to our Danny?”

“I… I don’t know. I really really don’t know,” he admitted, much as it pained him. “I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t understand it. Usually if I get brought to a different timeline I’m told why, what I’m supposed to do. Not…” he gestured vaguely. “Not this.”

“And our son?” his mom repeated. “What about him?”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Danny dragged his hand through his hair, mussing the black locks up beyond their normal mess. “Sam and Tucker and Jazz will take care of him. They’re good at that kinda stuff. They’ll catch on quickly, I bet.”

“That’s good.” His mom – this version of her – patted him on the arm. Her expression was hard to read, though. “Now, what was this about your parents, sweetie?”

“I, um.” He blushed, licked his lips. “It’s. Complicated. Like I said. They don’t… they don’t mean it, they’re nice, but it’s…”

He hummed, looking at his hands in his lap. “You know how you’re all half-ghosts, and so am I?”

“Yes?” His mom frowned a little, shooting a short glance towards Jack. “Is that not… Is that a problem, back home?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, because I never told them.” He blew out a breath, the confession making him feel lighter. Not much, but, well. A little. “It’s… You know how you’re human hunters, here? Well, my parents, they hunt ghosts.”

“Oh,” his dad said on his other side, voice low and quiet.

“Yeah.” Danny sighed, thumbs twirling. “They, um. They’ve seen me in my ghost form, but they didn’t know it was me. I’m the only half-ghost in town, so I… fight the other ghosts? To protect the town. But they don’t see it like that. They just see an aggressive ghost causing trouble.”

“They hurt you,” Jazz stated, her voice clearly forced into neutrality to cover up her emotions. “Right? They’ve hurt you, but they didn’t know it was you because you never told them. And they don’t think of the similarities, because they don’t think half-ghosts can exist.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you nailed it. They’ve, uh. Made something of a habit out of threatening and insulting ‘Phantom’ around me and Jazz. They work on their inventions in the lab and in the kitchen, and they keep going off near me, and one day--” He snapped his mouth shut, shaking off the thought.

“And you’re afraid that one day it’ll go wrong.” Light flashed as Maddie shifted back to her human form without moving. Her hand, laying on Danny’s, became marginally warmer. “You’re afraid of your parents, because they don’t know that their prey and their son are the same person.”

Danny nodded, listlessly.

“Can I offer some advice?” Jazz asked, her hand on his knee. She continued before he got a chance to answer. “Tell them.”

“What?” he frowned at her.

“Tell them,” Jazz repeated, looking from him to their parents. “You’re afraid because they don’t know that you’re half-ghost. So tell them.”

“But they-- They hate ghosts.” He gestured with his free hand, leaving the one with Maddie’s hand on it. “They hate ghosts with such fervor that they’ve dedicated their life to getting rid of every single one of them!”

“Danny.” His dad caught his free hand, gently placing it down and pinning it with his own warm hand. At some point he, too, had shifted back to human form. “Danny, I don’t know how different your version of me is, but I can tell you one thing with absolute certainty. The most important thing in my life, always and ever, is my family. And that includes my son, human or ghost or half-ghost.”

“Oh,” he said, soundlessly. “But--”

“What about your sister?” his mother asked, suddenly, cocking her head at him. “You said that she would help, and Sam and Tucker. Does she know?”

“Uh…” Danny twitched at the non-sequitur. “Yeah? I mean, I didn’t tell her, but she figured it out on her own.”

“And she hasn’t recommended that you tell your parents?” this Jazz asked, brow quirked. “She didn’t comment on the secret-keeping, on the damage it could do?”

“I, well…” he sighed, letting his head hang. “She did, actually. But she’s… big on letting me tell people at my own pace. And she’s heard the vitriol my parents spit, so…”

“So she should’ve encouraged you to tell them,” Jazz insisted, more forcefully. “Danny, you need your family. You can’t hide this. Do you really think that they haven’t noticed that something changed, that their relationship somehow got damaged and they don’t even know what happened?”

“I… oh.” He looked at his hands, both covered by his parents’ hands. “I hadn’t… thought about that.”

Maddie sighed. “And I guess I didn’t think about how we might’ve done something similar to our Danny, insisting that he had to be half-ghost as well.”

“Well, how about this, then,” Danny said, trying to summon his bravery a little. He could, at least, help this other version of himself, right? That’s what heroes did, and he was a hero. “You tell him that you love him, that you accept him, half-ghost or not, and I’ll tell my parents.”

“Sounds like a plan to me!” his dad boomed, his characteristic grin finally reappearing. His free hand clapped on Danny’s back. “Now we just need to figure out how to get you back!”

Danny opened his mouth to reply, but halted as a pulse of energy ripped through the atmosphere. He couldn’t tell where it came from, just felt the pure power hum--

White light blinded him, energy ripping at his body, he didn’t know what was happening, and--

Then, blissfully, he passed out.

[miss-lumiere]

Hidden Affection - Chapter Three

Sherlock x reader x Moriarty

Synopsis: Sherlock’s and John’s lives are about to drastically change, when John’s younger sister he hasn’t seen in years, appears at their doorstep. After living with the two for a while, Sherlock grows fond of the younger, intelligent woman. He feels connected to her like he never did before with another human being. But will the attention of a certain criminal mastermind get in the way?

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: mild swearing, a tiny bit of angst A/N: Hey again, since I just hit 100+ Followers I wanted to let you know how grateful I am for all the appreciation of my work and all the support! Thank you so much for being a part of this, this series honestly means a lot to me! Enjoy, and look forward for the next chapters! :)) Masterlist  Chapter Two  Chapter Four An ominous encounter Your cab had barely pulled up in front of 221b as the four of you – who had surprisingly fit into the cab all at once – hurried out of the car following a serious-looking Sherlock to the front-door. At this point you were full-on confused, why were you back at the flat? Weren’t you trying to find this place from the picture? You searched John’s and Lestrade’s expressions, but they seemed to be just as clueless as you were. Sherlock unlocked the door, but instead of heading up the stairs he walked straight towards Mrs. Hudson’s flat. After calling out her name he turned towards the door next to the flat, that you strangely had never acknowledged before. In that moment you understood. Gulping, a bad feeling started to fill your guts. The letters “221c” that were stuck to the door indicated that this was another flat. Something in the picture had seemed familiar and now you knew what it was: The fireplace had reminded you of the one from 221b. You had a premonition, that you would find something in this apartment that you surely wouldn’t like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Hudson who had opened her door and handed Sherlock a set of keys seeing how the latter had been examining the heavy lock that hang on the door in front of him. “You had a look, didn’t you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat.”, the landlady concluded. Sherlock was still examining the lock closely even though he had already unlocked it. “The door’s been opened recently.”, he deduced affirming your premonition. “No, can’t be. That’s the only key.” Sherlock removed the padlock before opening the door with another key. “I can’t get anyone interested in this flat. It’s the damp, I expect. That’s the curse of basements.”, Mrs Hudson explained to you and John. “I didn’t even know it existed!”, you replied frowning. The Consulting Detective opened the door and stepped into the flat. The three of you followed leaving Mrs Hudson at the entrance who seemingly didn’t notice how tense all of you were. “I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls ...”, she rambled on before Lestrade closed the door excluding her from the scene. The four of you walked down the stairs to the entrance of the living room. At the sight a shiver ran down your spine: The room was identical to the one in the photograph. The only thing that had changed were a pair of ominous-looking white trainers sitting on the floor in the middle of the room. The wallpaper was flaking off and the windows were partially covered by some sort of drape which just added to the spooky atmosphere. “Shoes.”, John stated plainly making you roll your eyes. Sometimes John was one of these people who only saw what they wanted to and ignored anything else. If you had learned anything from Sherlock this far, it was to look beyond the obvious and John had been living with him for month! “He’s a bomber, remember.”, your brother redeemed himself as Sherlock stepped forward to study the shoes closer. Well, you were wrong, he had picked up a few things. Sherlock lowered himself carefully to the ground to get a closer look. Just in that moment a phone ringed, making Sherlock refrain from continuing his investigation. Taking his gloves off the tall man pulled the pink phone from inside of his coat and looked at the screen. Curiously you stepped closer to Sherlock, but it simply showed that the I.D. was blocked. Meeting your brother’s eyes he looked at you with a frown. Taking another step backwards, Sherlock held the phone up to his mouth, putting the phone on speaker. “Hello?”, Sherlock answered calmly. “H-hello ... sexy.”, a shaky female voice replied between sobs. You frowned, exchanging looks with the other two men, confused as to why the woman on the other side of the line was crying. “Who’s this?”, the dark-haired man inquired. “I’ve ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi.”, she stated continuing to sob. “Who’s talking? Why are you crying?”, Sherlock continued to ask intensely. “I-I’m not crying ... I’m typing ... and this ... stupid bitch ... is reading it out.” Shit. So, this was indeed the bomber and he was simply using this woman, so he wouldn’t be identified. He was playing with Sherlock, it was all just a silly game to him. “The curtain rises.”, Sherlock mumbled cryptically making you look at him questioningly. “What?”, John chimed in apparently having understood as much as you did. “Nothing.” “No, what did you mean?” “I’ve been expecting this for some time.” “Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock ... or I’m going to be ... so naughty.”, the female voice said shakily before the call was ended abruptly. Without another word Sherlock picked the shoes up already on his way to leave the flat. “Sherlock, where are we going now?, you asked with a sigh, seeing how Sherlock never explained anything. “We’re following the lead the bomber gave us. There are things that these shoes can tell us with further analysis, but we need the right equipment to do so.” As the three of you entered one of the labs of the St. Bartholomew hospital, Sherlock moved to the side to start examining the pair of shoes, that had been found at 221c. After you had left the flat, Sherlock, John and you had taken a cab leaving Lestrade behind to do his work. While John was wandering around absentmindedly, you took your time to look around the lab. It reminded you in big parts of the laboratories that you had worked in in the past, yet it was more cluttered which was an indication for the fact that sherlock was often working here. Despite the pressure you all were under, you broke into a tiny smile. Sherlock always left a mess around him wherever he went. Although it used to bug you when you met him, it was somewhat charming. He simply didn’t care what others thought of him and you admired that. A line of tables where positioned in the centre of the room, where a computer, a microscope and other lab utensils where placed upon. On the walls hung a few shelves with jars and bottles of chemical substances. At this point Sherlock had moved to the microscope, probably examining something he had found on the shoe. Instead of questioning Sherlock, you moved behind him to see what he was doing, knowing he didn’t want to be distracted. The computer was comparing pollen to determine which kind it was that sherlock had most likely found on the shoes. “Brilliant, if we know what kind of pollen you found on the shoes, we can determine the geographical area the owner of the shoes was from!”, you proclaimed. Sherlock looked up from his microscope for a moment, a smile on his face, seemingly glad to have someone else with him that esteemed his intellect. You turned away for a second to analyse the pair of shoes, as John started talking to Sherlock. The shoes were trainers, still in good shape, despite their age. Maybe from the 80s, or just retro? No, they had to be original, the soles were heavily used. The size meant, they had most likely been worn by a man or a woman with big feet. Then again, there were traces of felt tip on the inside of the shoes, no adult would write their name in their shoe. So, it was- Your train of thoughts was interrupted by the sound of a text alert that seemed to come out of Sherlock’s direction. You set the shoe down, just as Sherlock demanded to pass him his phone, in no general direction. “Where is it?”, you ask as John looks around the room. “Jacket.”, Sherlock simply replies without taking his eyes off the microscope. “Seriously, Sherlock?!”, you exclaim in disbelief. John looks just as angry as you but turns to you with a pleading look. “Ugh, alright!” You throw your hands up in frustration, but you get the phone anyway. “It’s from Mycroft, something about the Andrew West case?” You questioningly look from Sherlock to John. John sighs but takes the phone either way. “Delete it.”, Sherlock commanded. “Delete it?” “Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it.” Sherlock elaborated, seeming not the least bit interested. Oh, right, the case Mycroft wanted Sherlock to look into and that was of national importance. Obviously, Sherlock simply didn’t want to investigate it to piss his brother off. He was such a child sometimes. John would probably have to investigate on his own and you would gladly help him, seeing how you were already hooked on the rush investigating a case gave you. “Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He’s texted you eight times. Must be important.”, John tried persuading him. “Then why didn’t he cancel his dental appointment?” “His what?”, John asked after sighing. “Mycroft never texts if he can talk.”, Sherlock deduced. “Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: Why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?” Sherlock turned back towards the microscope, probably not understanding the fragility of the situation, or – more likely – simply not caring. You pinched your nose in exasperation before turning towards Sherlock. “Sherlock, this is not one of our usual cases where the murder already happened. There is a women’s life at stake, try to remember that!” John turned the phone off and looked at you, slightly surprised by your outburst, yet seemingly thankful that you joined the conversation. “What for?”, the taller man retorted irritated. “This hospital’s full of people dying, Doctor. Why don’t you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?”, the taller man replied exasperatedly. “Which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t at least try to save every single life you can.”, you replied defending your brother while crossing your arms. “Well, you wouldn’t care, Sherlock.”, John murmured under his breath, before turning away from the conversation. Sherlock looked back into the microscope, seemingly unmoved by John’s and your anger. Suddenly, the computer beeped, indicating a match had been found. In this moment, Molly Hooper burst into the room. You had met her before and the two of you had hit it off immediately. You had been spending quite some time together and you already considered her a good friend. “Any luck?”, she asked walking energetically towards Sherlock stopping next to you. You really liked this positive and lively part of her. It always lifted your mood just being around her. “Oh, yes!”, the curly-haired man expresses smirking triumphantly at her. “Oh, hi (Y/N)! I didn’t see you there!”, she shrieked happily before turning to you embracing you in a short hug. Of course, she didn’t, you thought, as soon as Sherlock is around, he is the centre of her attention. Molly was hopelessly in love with him, although she would deny it vehemently. It was so obvious and you noticed it almost immediately as soon as the two interacted with each other. Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to all her attempts of affection. Although you two were friends, you had felt an aura of jealousy surrounding her on various occasions, seeing how much time Sherlock and you spend around each other. You knew she was aching for the opportunity to spend time with him, and for him to return that enthusiasm. She knew you were there mostly because of John, but it still seemed to bother her. As Molly started focusing on the screen, a brunet thirty-something man pushed the door open stopping after he entered, seemingly undecided whether he should interrupt. He wore a white t-shirt with kakis, an awkward smile on his face as he was fidgeting with his hands. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t…”, he started but was interrupted by Molly, who looked excited by the man’s entrance. “Jim! Hi!”, Molly shouted. The man named Jim attempted to exit the room, but Molly stopped him. “Come in! Come in!”, she exclaimed encouraging him to join them, making him smile shyly. As the brunet closed the door, Sherlock looked up from his research to study between the two just to look away uninterested. “Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.”, she introduced the Detective as Molly’s acquaintance walked closer. “Ah!”, he proclaimed excitedly, immediately focusing on Sherlock, while ignoring us. As John and I turned towards them again, Molly noticed she hadn’t introduced us yet. “And, uh ... sorry.”, she said apologizingly. “This is (Y/N) Watson and her brother John. I think I already told you about them.” “Hi.”, he replied unenthusiastically. Jim’s eyes rested on you for a few seconds before his attention went back to Sherlock, yet you thought you saw something flicker in them. What was it? Something dark, that you were sure of. You absentmindedly shook your head. You had probably just imagined it. “So you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. You on one of your cases?”, Jim started questioning him, while Sherlock was still seated with his back to the smaller man.At that you looked at your brother next to you rolling your eyes. Not another one of those fanatic fans. Granted, you admired Sherlock too, but you would never admit that. You were way to proud to admit that somewhere inside you, you had a soft spot for that stubborn, immature idiot.He was intellectually everything you had ever wished for in another human being and even though he liked to call himself a sociopath, you knew he wasn’t one. Sure, he was often rude and pretended not to care, but you knew he did underneath that cold exterior of his. “Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance.”, Molly explained giggling with Jim joining in. You simply smiled, happy that she had found someone even though her body language showed that she obviously wasn’t over Sherlock yet. You glanced at John, who seemed a little uncomfortable being completely left out. Sherlock took another look at Jim who was now standing on the left of John and you, before returning to his work. “Gay.”, he simply stated with an indifferent expression. “Sorry, what?”, Molly asked disbelievingly, her smile fading into a shocked expression. “Sherlock!”, you groaned silently pinching the bridge of your nose. Sherlock looked up from the microscope, most likely just then noticing what he had let slip. He turned his head in your direction, having noticed your warning, his eyes catching a glimpse of your angry expression. “Nothing.”, Sherlock answered fast before sending a fake-smile in Jim’s direction. “Um, hey.” You rolled your eyes. Great. He always had to be the smartest person in the room. “Hey.”, Jim returned not reacting to what the detective had insinuated, smiling nervously. Not paying attention, he knocked a metal dish off the table, apologizing profusely. He picked the dish back up followed by more awkward smiles and nervous fidgeting. You stifled a chuckle contrary to your brother who had turned away from the scene face-palming. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked aggravated. You had to admit the guy’s behaviour in Sherlock’s presence was sort of hilarious. Jim moved back to standing next to Molly, touching her back affectionately while saying: “Well, I’d better be off. I’ll see you at The Fox, ’bout six-ish?” Molly affirmed, before both say their goodbyes to each other. Before Jim left he turned back around to Sherlock. “It was nice to see you.”, he said without receiving a reply. After a few seconds of silence, John interrupted. “You too.”, your brother responded. Jim eyed him up and without another word, left the room. “What d’you mean, gay? We’re together.”, Molly inquired appalled. “And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you.”, he replied meeting her eyes. “Two and a half.” “No, three.” “Sherlock, that’s enough! You’re being rude.”, you retorted frustratedly walking over to Molly and crossing your arms. Could he just for once keep his mouth shut?! Almost every time he saw Molly he either intentionally or accidentally hurt her feelings. “Sherlock!”, John decided to step into action. “He’s not gay. Why d’you have to spoil ...? He’s not.” Molly started getting angry. “With that level of personal grooming?”, Sherlock snorted apparently trying to convince us he was right no matter what. “So, what, you think he has an ulterior motive? To meet you?!”, you voiced having had enough. “You’re so full of yourself.” With worry in your eyes you turned towards Molly. “Don’t listen to him.”, you said vehemently before rushing towards the exit.                                             You were leaning against the wall outside of the lab, trying to calm yourself down. Sherlock was so ignorant at times: He was often simply hurting others, because he just couldn’t hold that bloody tongue of his. Running your fingers through your hair in frustration, you spotted Jim on his way to the staircase. Wanting to know what just had happened you ran after him. “Who are you?! A fan of Sherlock’s?”, you inquired a little angrier than you intended since you were still infuriated as you had reached him. “Did you plan this?” “Everyone seems to be in love with Sherlock Holmes”, he drawled unfazed as he slowly turned around, his demeanour changing in only seconds. From the shy and awkward guy was nothing left. Walking slowly towards you, a wave of fear overcame you. His eyes had lost all its warmth and the way they looked you up and down send shivers down your spine. You shuddered inwardly. How could someone change from being this insecure to confident - even dominant - in seconds? His body language was now completely contradictory to his behaviour in the laboratory. His back was straight, the fidgeting and awkward smiles were gone and replaced by an aura of confidence. Jim leaned into you, his eyes scanning your face closely while tilting his head to the side. He lifted his left thumb to your face, making you try to move backwards, but to no avail as you hit the wall. His thumb brushed over your cheek, making you cringe. The hungry, almost predatory look in his eyes filled you with unease. “Even you are effected.”, he whispered, a fake-surprised look appearing on his face. You gulped, crossing your arms. He made you feel like a deer in the headlights. And…he enjoyed it. Who was this man? Surely not the kind and shy man Molly believed him to be. “Shame.”, he said stepping away from you. His face was again distorted into an exaggerated expression of what looked like pity. With a sadistic grin he turned around, walking towards the door at the end of the corridor he was headed towards before. “We will meet again, I am sure.”, he exclaimed with an amused smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Before turning around and vanishing behind the door, he looked you over once more with an intense stare that you would swear could look into your soul. As you hurried back into the chemistry lab, you were met by John who had a concerned look on his face. Sherlock looked shortly up from the microscope with an absentminded expression but didn’t seem to acknowledge you. “Are you alright, (Y/N), you don’t look so well?”, John inquired turning away from Sherlock. You hadn’t noticed how tense you were until now. “Yes, I’m – Everythings fine.”, you lied. “Let’s get going.” To be continued… If you would like to be tagged for the series, please let me know!

[sunlightdances]

i only have eyes for you

Title: I Only Have Eyes For You Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Female Reader Words: 1851 Summary: You come to Philly to see Sebastian during a con weekend. Genre/warnings: Fluff. Pure, tooth rotting fluff. Author’s Note: This gif isn’t from this year’s WW con, but I couldn’t resist. Quick disclaimer, I don’t know Sebastian or his life, and no harm is intended by this writing. And as always, my works are not intended to be posted on other websites without my permission.

It’s raining again.

It’s early in the morning, and though you’re tired, you relish in the quiet of an early Saturday morning as you stare out the window, watching the traffic flow by on the street below, hot coffee warming your hands.

You hear him shuffle into the room and turn just slightly, your lips tilting upwards with a smile. He tugs on the ends of your hair gently as he passes behind you, headed for the coffee maker. Once he’s got his own mug, he comes to stand behind you, arm sliding around your waist.

You hum. “Hi.”

“You’re up early.” His voice is deep and raspy in the morning, and it always causes a shiver to run through you.

You shrug one shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on,” he says, gesturing towards the large couch in the middle of the room. “Don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours.”

Though your incessant insomnia was beginning to be a problem and you felt guilty for getting him awake so early too, you really loved mornings like this. You and Sebastian haven’t been together for long - just a few months. He’s been doing so much press that you’ve only recently gotten to spend a long amount of time together.

Even this weekend he’s doing a convention, but he convinced you to come and meet him at the hotel in Philadelphia so you could at least get a few hours of one-on-one time with him. You’re sort of glad you woke up so early, so at least you can hang out with him and have breakfast before he has to get ready to go to the convention center.

You meet him in the living room where he’s already looking over the room service menu. “Want anything in particular?”

“Potatoes. Lots of potatoes.”

He laughs. “Got it.”

You plop down on the couch next to him, grabbing a throw blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders as Sebastian speaks on the phone. When he hangs up, his arm goes around your shoulders, tucking you close to his side. He’s warm, and you make a contented noise as you snuggle in closer, turning sideways so your legs go over his lap, your head finding a spot in his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he says quietly. He’s not one to speak about his feelings that often, only in important moments. You’ve learned that much as you’ve gotten to know him over the last year.

“Missed you too.” You reply. You lean in and kiss his cheek, and he sighs.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough. “This isn’t-- me traveling like this, it isn’t how I wanted to start this, with you.”

“It’s your job.” You tell him, frowning. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“We’ve been dating for four months and I’ve only been with you 4 weekends.” He sends you a sad smile. “Not the kind of thing you envisioned?”

You adjust yourself on his lap, straddling him, his hands falling to your hips. “All I ever envisioned was being with you.” You smile. “I knew what this was going to be like when we started it.”

You think about meeting him on a day when the sun was blinding in the sky above New York, and when his smile was even more blinding. He was so charming and you think you fell in love with him that very same day.

His fingers are tracing mindless patterns on your bare thighs, shivers racing up and down your spine at his feather-light touch. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That’s bullshit.”

He looks up, surprised.

“It is!” You insist. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but a knock on the door and a call out from room service interrupts him. “Hold that thought.” He says, helping you off his lap and handing the blanket back to you.

After a few minutes, he comes back with a large tray and more food than you could possibly ever eat.

“Seb!” You exclaim, laughing.

“Sorry! My eyes were bigger than my stomach, apparently.” He grins. “Let’s eat.”

The two of you tuck in to your breakfast, Sebastian flipping on the TV. After you eat, you feel your eyelids start to droop. You don’t want to fall asleep, but you can’t help it. After a gentle smile from the man sitting to your left, you let yourself curl up on the couch and close your eyes.

.

.

.

Some time later, a hand shakes your shoulder. “Hey, wake up. I gotta go.”

“M’kay,” you mumble, reaching for him with your eyes still closed, hands finding each other in the dim light of the room. “Have fun,” you tell him, and he smiles softly.

“Wish I could stay here.”

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, one that he immediately tries to deepen, brows furrowing as he stops himself.

“You’re gonna make a lot of people happy today.” You tell him. “Go, before I try to convince you not to.”

He groans. “You can’t say stuff like that to me.” Another kiss to your temple. “I’ll be back tonight. I know it’s boring, but can we order in?”

“It’s not boring.” You sit up, letting him pull you to your feet. “You’ll be tired. We’ll get carry out from some place. Don’t worry about it.”

He’s looking at you with so much adoration you almost can’t stand it. You feel a blush creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks and this is one of those times when you really have to remind yourself that this man is real, that he’s here, with you.

“You’re--” He shakes his head. “You’re amazing. Really.”

You blush again. “Sebastian--”

“I know, I know. I’ll see you later.” Another kiss, another few seconds where you get lost in each other before he reluctantly pulls himself away.

.

.

You work remotely for a few hours while he’s gone, and go for a walk to grab some lunch around midday. After that, you Facetime with your Mom and tell her about your trip before you head back to the hotel. You feel like taking a nap and want to try to finish a few more work tasks before Sebastian comes back for the night.

When you check your phone, you smile when you see a few messages from the man himself.

I got cupcakes for the VIP m&g. Is that weird?

I’m taking your silence to mean it’s weird

Who doesn’t like cupcakes tho, right

… right???

You laugh out loud as you read his messages and see that they’re from almost an hour ago. You quickly type out a reply --

Sorry, was on a walk. Not weird, SUPER CUTE

A beat, and then your phone buzzes.

You gotta take your phone with you when you go out alone :(

Also, I am not “cute”. I am the opposite of cute.

So dramatic.

I’m an actor. It’s literally my job

Don’t you have a throng of admirers to talk to? ;)

Ha ha. Just for that, no leftover cupcakes for you

I can’t believe this!!! We’re breaking up

Wait!!! I take it back!!!

As JoJo once said, too little too late

Who?

Ugh. Remind me to play you one of the best breakup songs in existence when you get back

I’ll pass.

Gotta go. I’ll be back in a few hours. <3

Smile pretty!

.

.

The noise of the keycard in the door drags your attention away from the screen, and you laugh when you see Sebastian half hidden behind three large bakery boxes.

“I knew you wouldn’t keep those away from me.”

“I was tempted to, though,” he says, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Give me a hand, will you?”

You take the boxes from him and set them on the table in the middle of the room. Turning back to Sebastian, you jump a little when you find him already right behind you.

“Hi,” he says, a heartbreakingly beautiful smile on his face.

“Hey.” Your arms go around his neck and he pulls you close, sighing as you run your fingers through the short hairs at the back of his head. “You smell like a bakery.”

He makes a face. “I need to shower.”

“Hurry back,” you say, pulling away from him. “Chinese food tonight?”

“Sounds perfect.” He kisses you gently before heading to the shower, and it’s only about ten minutes before he reappears, eyes tired but otherwise looking refreshed.

He plops down next to you, nuzzling into your neck as you shriek as the wet tips of his hair drip against your collarbone. He’s grinning by the time he pulls away. “This is all I’ve wanted to do all day.” His arm tightens around your middle. “Have I thanked you yet for flying out here to see me?”

“No, but you don’t need to. I wanted to see you, dummy.”

His smile is bright as he leans close, his breath fanning over your face before his lips finally connect with yours. When he pulls back, his voice is low. “Gonna let that one slide…”

Your eyebrow arches, “Oh, are you?” You pretend to swoon. “So generous of you!”

He rolls his eyes. “God. You’re…” He trails off, shaking his head, a fond smile on his face. “You’re too much.”

You chuckle, shoving him in the shoulder lightly. “Come on, show me all the presents you got. I’ll take a picture for your Instagram.”

You’ve been really careful not to get photographed together, and it kinda sucks that you have to make sure no one could tell that you’re staying in this hotel room together before you take the picture, but you think in the long run it’s worth it.

While he’s on Instagram, you watch as he smiles as he sees some of the pictures and videos people have tagged him in, and your heart bursts with affection as he types out responses to nearly all of them.

Unable to stop yourself, you practically push yourself in between his legs as he’s sitting there, his arms automatically making room for you as he looks up at you, surprised. You lean down, taking his face in your hands before kissing him, hard. He’s frozen at first but responds eventually with equal fervor, his hands reaching for your hips until he can pull you down into his lap.

You pull away, breathless, watching with amusement and adoration as he takes a second to open his eyes, his chest heaving. “I--” He stutters, clearly dazed, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”

“You’re so good, Seb.” You shake your head, “I just-- want you to know that.”

A blush creeps over his cheeks and it’s so endearing you’re almost breathless with how intense your feelings for him are. You never thought you would feel like this about someone.

“Thank you,” he whispers, taking one of your hands that’s cradling his face and pressing a swift kiss to your palm. “For being here with me.”

“You’re stuck with me, buddy.”

He grins. “God, I hope so.”

[toggle1-mrfipp]

End of All Meaning CHIV: A Gnawing Absence

Fipp: So I learned, as I wrote this chapter, is that there is a flower called a jackass clover, which really cleared a few things up for me.

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End of All Meaning

Chapter IV: A Gnawing Absence

She's no expert in hacking, she's never really understood how it worked, but she was more than confident that what she's doing is much different than what would happen in her day. Flying through this odd, pale-colored hacking space, as some kind of strange cursor and shooting at the enemy's internal defense systems, and while it works well enough she was always more than happy enough to just cut machines apart. However, that's not the thing that bothers her the most.

“I... am a...desert test unit... Created... wipe out mankind...”

“What was that?” A2 asked, the odd, machine voice throwing her off, almost causing the enemy fire to strike her.

“The hacking has caused the enemy's memories to merge with your own,” came the voice of Pod 153, her newly acquired, and very unwelcome support Pod. She never liked these things, they always seemed annoying and they never shut up whenever she encountered them.

She didn't want these memories, not the memories of some pile of scrap, not when she's still trying to sort out the memories she willing took on. Memories that just don't make sense to some degree because so many of them contradict with each other.

“Better make sure he's actually dead next time. That was dangerous ma'am.”

“This is a fragment of 9S' memory from when he was alive. This was said upon his initial contact with unit 2B.”

She didn't need a shitty Pod to tell her that, and as the words poured into her head she could recall where they had been said; The Factory, in one of the new flight units, just as he met with...

But it was wrong, the first time they met, the one from his memories, was on The Bunker. She knew how that mission went, he had read the reports because he-

No, did they meet at The Factory? She thought it was somewhere else, in the desert. Or was it somewhere in the city?

It hurt to try and think about this, but all she can do is just move forward and keep shooting.

More memories keep pouring all around her, despite her wishes for them to stop.

“...not right, No. 2. We're all here... chose to be here... Thank... giving meaning to my life...”

No, no no no! Leave that alone! “Enough!” she snapped. That was her memory, not something to be dragged out for anyone to see, leave No. 4 alone!

“Memory data recognized as belonging to YoRHa unit A2 herself,” Pod 153 continued, and A2 want to break its casing and crush it like a tin can.

“Shut up and get out of my head already!” she yelled, not needing anymore of this. There were too many memories, and she didn't know which were hers anymore. A2 tried to focus on No. 4, No. 16 and No. 21, but all she could do was think was of how they were dead. All because YoRHa used them, sent them to die, betrayed them.

She could still feel the sword piercing her chest, she thought they were friends! Why was she-

No! That's not hers! Why was she even...ugh.

Just keep going, and don't think about it.

So she went on, she kept shooting, kept fighting.

“Mama... Mama...” she followed the desperate cries, to a mass of black cubes, pathetically huddled onto the ground, while an avatar of her body replaced the cursor. It kept crying out for its Mama.

Gritting her teeth, A2 had not problem slicing her sword, the avatar of the sword that was now hers, right through the mass, dispersing its shape into the hacking space around her.

More memories came to her. They kept conflicting, but they were so fragmented that she was never able to piece together a full picture of what was going on, and the dates were so wrong, taking place before he was manufactured and-

There's only one consistent thing within 9S' memories, and that is 2B.

“Shut up,” she hissed, trying to block them out.

“I wonder, did I ever become like you when the truth came to light?”

“Shut up.”

“Did I ever rage and scream against the world, or did I just keeping going with the motions, or-”

“I said SHUT UP!” A2 quickly spun around on her feet and threw her sword right at the image of 9S in front of her and-

-and suddenly she was back in the desert.

The desert. The desert. Shouldn't there be ruins around here? Some kind of temple?

A memory popped up, one of the strange fragments that didn't make sense, but this one was much cleaner. Then again, the ones of 2B were always the ones that seemed to be in the best condition.

It's not a pleasant memory. It's rather gruesome.

“What did you even see in her?” she asked to no one, an anger building up inside of her.

000

“I'm ready for my next mission, ma'am.”

Anemone filched at the words, her shoulders tensing up for a moment before slumping back down, and while she appeared hesitant to do so, she turned around to face 2B, a tired expression marking her features.

Anemone gave off a haggard sigh. “2B, I've already told you, multiple times, do not call me 'ma'am', I don't like it.”

“I apologize, but I needed to tell you that I have completed my last mission, so I am ready to receive my next set of orders,” 2B said, her tone firm, and stance rigid.

It had been three days since 2B had woken up, and it did not take too long before she felt the desire to leave the storage room, the silence too much to bear for her, and she couldn't deal with being left along with her own thoughts. Upon stumbling out the room, she came to the realization that she was, above all else, a soldier, and a soldier follows orders.

“And 2B, I think you need to take a break,” Anemone continued.

“I'm sorry, but I don't understand,” 2B asked, a feeling of anxiousness already building up inside her.

“You've been going nonstop for the last few days, you need rest, and to be frank I'm starting to run out of things for you to do. You've done everything from fetch quests for the twins, to moving boxes around in storage, and so much more.”

“It's all part of my missions, if I receive one I must preform it to my utmost ability.”

“For the love of-and another thing, stop treating me like I'm your CO, I'm not.”

“Are you the leader of this Resistance cell?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then, with both YoRHa gone and the Commander dead, the chain of command has been broken, and since you are the highest ranking android around, you then gain command over all remaining units, and are within your rights to issue orders to me.”

Anemone's brow furrowed as she brought a hand to her face, fingers rubbing at her eyelids.

“Fine, if that's the way you want to play at it, then here is your next mission; take a break, find something to do with your time other than pestering me for orders until you work yourself to death.”

“But-”

“No, this is final.”

“...alright,” 2B said, with reluctance.

“2B, you've been through a lot the last few days, and I think it would be best if you tried to-”

“No, I understand, I'll take a few days off, since that is what you ordered.”

2B ignored Anemone's sudden protests as she quickly turned on her heel and walked away from her.

She was a solider, the sudden alternations in her life did not change that in the slightest, no matter how traumatic they had been, and as a soldier, it was her duty to accept and follow orders. This was how she had spent her time since she had woken up; doing whatever Anemone had asked of her, no questions asked, no matter how small or menial the task at hand was. It kept her mind in focus, sharp as she put everything she was into her mission. Her missions were important because they had to be done, and she had to do them because she was assigned to them. The more missions she did, the more time she spent putting her focus on her missions. Do the missions no matter what.

Ignore the silence next to her, pretend it didn't exist.

But what was she supposed to do now? Could she ask around the camp to be given tasks to be done? Maybe go out of the camp and find someone, anyone, that needed some form of assistance? She had done it before, and there was always someone who would need help with something, and all she needed to do was find them.

All she needed to do was find a mission and everything would be better.

“Hey, YoRHa girl!”

2B almost tripped at the unexpected call, catching herself soon enough to hope that no one noticed. Her attention was then drawn to one of the Resistance members, a man dressed in a dark hood, sitting on a chair next to some of the camp's more complex equipment.

“Yes?” 2B said back as she approached him. “Can I help you with anything?”

The man nodded, and reached into his jacket to pulled out an old photograph, featuring him, and several other androids. They looked happy.

“Have you seen these folks, perchance?” he asked as she carefully studied the image.

“Sorry,” she finally replied, with the shake of her head. “But I haven't seen these androids anywhere.”

The man gave a deep sigh as he tucked the photo back into his pocket. “They were part of my squad, but I lost contact when they went out for field research. If anything happened to them-”

“So you need me to go look for them for you?” As much as she tried to hide how desperate she was for this task, 2B was unable to help herself from taking two steps forward to the man, causing him to almost fall out of his chair.

“Well, um, yeah, I would like that very much, thank you. I'd look for them myself, but my motor systems were heavily damaged some time back, so I can't get too far from the camp right now.”

“Very well, I shall accept this request.”

“Yeah, thanks, it's just... I need to know if they're alive or not, and if they're dead... I just need to know so I can mourn them properly.

“I... I understand.” For some reason, 2B felt her throat dry out. “Do you know where I might be able to find them? Or at least where I can start?”

“They headed towards the flooded section of the city on the coast, last I checked. I'll give you their ID codes, to help you out, and we all wield dual weapons, so you should be able to find them easily.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “If they're dead, I'd appreciate if you could retrieve any personal articles you find.”

“I'll do what I can,” 2B said, before turning around and headed towards the transport. Even with YoRHa gone, their equipment was still functional.

“Hey!” the man called out to her. “I forgot, I never got your name, what is it?”

“2B,” she replied, having halted in her steps.

“Huh, good name, for what it is. I'm Hydrangea, just so you know.”

“...Okay.”

Time to head out.

000

She hadn't been in the flooded district since shortly after the destruction of the giant machine that had rampaged against everything in its path to the shore, when she had tried to find clues as to where...

The first thing she noticed as she stepped out of the transport was how humid the air was, a striking contrast from the usually cool and clammy temperature the coast had. Already she could feel the condensation building on her, causing her clothes and hair to stick to her skin. Beyond the initial thoughts, she pushed any afterthought aside and planted her feet onto the grass, rounded the corner of the building and made her way down the path to the broken and flooded highway, each step taking her closer to the marker on her HUD's map. There were machines in her way, blocking her from reaching her destination, but like the countless number before them she had cut them down.

Typically in combat she was swift and graceful, quick to dispose of whatever machines that were required to kill for the sake of the mission, but no matter how many enemies she destroyed, there was never any real sense of accomplishment for her, no pride in what she did, just an acceptance of what she had done. Ever since she had woken up, she had taken notice of a change in how she fought; an increasing anger that had built up in her, expressing itself in her being more careless, more brutal in how she cut them down. 2B tried to keep these emotions in check, pushing them down as far as she could, to not let them affect her mission efficiency in the slightest.

Emotions were prohibited.

Even though she had come here to find Hydrangea's comrades, any thoughts of that mission were left behind as she stepped onto the highway, and she spotted the massive structure that had appeared at the end of the road. A large metal tower hovering just over the water, seemingly made of countless metal pipes and plates, and through the large openings in its sides, a bright and glowing yellow light shined through.

“What is that?” 2B asked, awestruck by the structure.

“Statement: Unknown,” Pod 042 quickly answered.

“You're helpful...”

“Analysis: It would seem that this structure is related to machine technology.”

“Machines?” She looked back between the Pod and the tower, unsure what to think about this whole situation, about what this thing was. She wasn't a thinker, she didn't solve problems like that. She was a soldier, she followed her orders. “Is the Resistance member we are looking for possibly in there?”

“Negative: The android in question is not too far from where we are standing, and is already marked on the mini-map. However, this structure is most likely related to the tow-”

“I don't care,” 2B snapped, marching down the road. “We have a mission to do, and we will do it. Nothing else matters.”

It didn't take her long to find the body, laying amongst the rubble near the buildings, next to a rusted out car, her body burnt from enemy firepower and two broken swords next to her.

“Alert: This is one of the Resistance members we were asked to locate.

“I was afraid of this,” 2B said with a sigh, as she crouched over the body, trying to ignore the pit forming inside of her. From how the blood looked, it had seemed as though she had been dead a while. “The only personal items are these dog tags.” 2B carefully raised the woman's head off the ground and slipped the dog tags from around her neck.

The name on the dog tags read 'Shion'.

“Analysis: Remaining transmission records indicate the Resistance members were attempting to retreat from battle. Analysis of final coordinates complete. Marking locations on map.”

“Yeah...” 2B said as she stood up, clutching the dog tags tightly in her hand. She tried to ignore the slight tremble. “Let's go...”

000

The Amusement Park also had the same humidity that the Flooded City had, and looking over her shoulder she saw another tower, seeming as though it was over the theater. According to the minimap, the signal was not coming from there, so she ignored it. It wasn't part of the mission.

Beyond that, she could tell that something else was wrong; It was quiet, she couldn't hear the continuous bangs of fireworks in the air, lighting up the sky, the songs and dance of the resident peaceful machines. There was nothing, and it unnerved her, but it wasn't until she saw the first machine were she concerns realized.

The clown-dressed machine, instead of joyfully throwing confetti, singing and laughing, stumbled around, the front of its faceplate town off showing the sharp row of teeth that machines for some reason were designed with. A thick sludge leaked from the wounds, running down its face and stained the wide frilled collar it wore while a deep red glowed from behind its eyes and mouth. It reminded her all too much of the dozens of zombie machines they had found beneath the theater. Going further into the park, she saw that the remaining residents were of a similar state, mindlessly wandering the ruins, occasionally walking into walls and tripping over loosened bricks.

“ccOmEEE pllllllllayy with uzzzzzzzzzzzzzz-” one garbled, and it was the most coherent line she had gotten.

She never admitted this, but she rather liked this place. It was much different than anywhere else she had ever been, and even though it was occupied by machines, a part of her couldn't help but wonder how humans had enjoyed this establishment as they chased after fun and joy. She couldn't see the roller coaster continuously running, and something about that left her black box humming; the initial time she had rode it to get into the theater had been the first time he asked her-

Emotions were prohibited.

She found the Resistance member in the courtyard in the front of the park, bloodied and ripped to shreds, his body and the ground around him coated in blood.

His dog tag read 'Orchid'.

Two for two were dead, gone before she couldn't even get there.

She had to find the others. They needed to be alive. She needed them alive.

000

The third one was found in the lot outside the factory, hidden away in one of the bushes, and a large gash cut into his back. She didn't need the Pod to tell her that he was dead, she knew it from the moment she saw him.

His dog tag read 'Hyssop'.

All three of the androids she had found were dead, gone, and Hydrangea would never see them again.

Her breathing had deepened, but she ignored it.

“Alert: Emergency support request found in transmission records.”

“What?” 2B spun around to meet Pod 042. “When?”

“Approximately twelve minutes ago.”

2B immediately bolted back to the transport. She was sent to find four androids and three of them were dead, but this one was very much alive. The request for help had only come a twelve minutes ago, he had to be alive, he just had to be.

She could still save him.

000

2B tried to keep her mind on the mission as she ran through the desert. She tried not to think about exploring it for relics from the old world or looking for an oasis that matched a photograph or old desert ruins or-

All that mattered was finding this last android, making sure he was alright, and not dead and-

Emotions are prohibited.

She closed in on the signal, and over the dunes she could see plumes of fire and smoke shooting up into the air, before she finally caught sight of the source; two large machine tanks, retrofitted with large rusty spikes and  jagged blades, covering its surface. It was a rather crude-looking design, but it seemed oddly appropriate for the desert.

There was no pause as she had Pod 042 open fire on the closest one, bringing out her sword and cutting into the armor.

“REVENGE! CLAIM YOUR REVENGE!” one cried out as the cannons, each turret facing every direction, began to unload a storm of bullets upon her.

“Avenge the pain of our comrades!” the other one cried, rolling its way towards her.

“I HATE ANDROIDS! HATE THEM! SEIZE THEM! KILL THEM! DESTROY THEM ALL!”

“Violence rules this world! Violence is all!”

She stabbed and fired, trying her best to kill it, to get it to stop ranting. There was no reason to hear anything it had to say, nothing it had meant anything to her.

“KILL EACH AND EVERY ONE! TEAR APART THOSE WHO RESIST US!”

“Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! KILL! KILL!”

“BURN THEM TO DEATH CRUSH THEM TO DEATH!”

The longer the battle went on, the more sloppy she became; she rushed in more, taking less notice of what they were doing in favor of getting in the most damage, which only resulted in her sustaining more damage herself. The blasts from their projectiles and the immense weight of their retractable treads slamming into her, sending her flying and rolling into the sand, but she was always quick to jump back up, ignoring the pain. All she needed to do was silence them, she didn't need to listen to them cry about revenge, for their lost comrades, not after everything they had-

Emotions were prohibited.

Eventually, they were both destroyed, the burning and charred remains scorching the sands around them as thick, black smoke pouring off them. Her breath was heavy and her grip on her sword was tighter than usual, so much that she was almost concerned that she might have broken it.

They were dead now, that was all that mattered. No, there was the Resistance member. She had to find him, he had to be alive, she couldn't let him die.

But he was dead as well, half his body crushed by the heavy treads of the tanks. It must have happened only moments before she arrived.

The pit that had started in her gut had grown much worse, she couldn't save this one, none of them. All dead, and there was nothing she could have done for them. Gone.

His dog tag read 'Hyacinth'.

000

With a sense of dread, 2B stepped out of the transport and onto Resistance ground, and with a deep breath, to try and delay the moment as long as she could, she slowly made her way to to where Hydrangea still sat. As she approached him, Hydrangea looked up at her, only for his expression to deepen and fall.

“Your face tells me everything I need to know. They didn't make it, did they?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.

She didn't say anything, all she did was reach out to him, the dog tags collected from his friends held in her hand.

“Thank you,” he said grimly as he took them from her, his thumb affectionately running over the tags. “I'll just place these flowers with them...”

“Flowers?” she asked, taking note of the first time of the bundle of flowers wrapped at his feet. Why would he have flowers?

“Yeah, I'm just imitating an old ritual,” he explained. “The human race had many traditions when it came to mourning their dead. I know it might not mean much to us, but...” Hydrangea sigh heavily, leaning back in his seat and looking up to the sky. The tags were gripped tightly in his hand. “Well, I just want their souls to find some peace. That's the wish I'm putting into these flowers. Thank you again for your help. Can I admit something? I'm... relieved that I was too injured to fight, it allowed me to escape.”

She did say anything else as she turned away, her eyes downcast to the ground, going over what Hydrangea had just told her.

Mourning the dead with flowers?

000

It took 2B nearly twenty minutes to finally step over to the other side of the bridge. She didn't know why, she had crossed this bridge numerous times before, but now she was unable to make the final step, sometimes she didn't move, or she backtracked, going as far as to nearly make it halfway back, but eventually she stepped onto the ground. This shouldn't be hard, it just shouldn't be.

It didn't take her long to find the bloodstain near the ledge of the cliff, dried out, and faded, seemingly washed away by possibly rainstorms, but the body was nowhere to be found. Maybe the earthquakes had rolled it down into the ravine, possibly landing it on a cliff, or burying it under rubble from resulting landslides. It was likely she would never find him.

Something caught her eye, wrapped around a branch of a nearby bush.

It was his visor.

000

The elevator rattled to a stop, and upon the doors opening, 2B found herself bathed in an soft, ethereal light of the field of flowers. Lunar Tears, such a beautiful and delicate flower, and something about them brought a feeling of peace and serenity that she could not explain, but regretted that she never had allowed herself a chance to come back here on her own time with...

What was she doing? Would this even help?

She walked to the center of the field and stabbed a wooden stake into the dirt the visor tied around the other end.

“I...” she began, before she stopped. “This is...” Did she even have the right to this? To mourn and honor the dead like this after everything she's done, after she had desecrated his body as much as she had? “I remember once, you told me about how human had a belief of what happened to the soul after death, and while I'm not sure if androids have souls, I would like to think so. I wonder, what happened to you? Did you meet all the other previous yous that I killed, or did you all merge into one, and become a complete person? Wherever you ended up, I do hope you're happy, you deserve it after everything I've put you through. ”

Emotions were prohibited. This was a mantra she had repeated so much that others had mocked her behind her back for it, but for her it was something she had to cling to, to pretend it worked for the sake of her own sanity when things became too unbearable for her. In the end, where did it get her however?

“I'm sorry for everything I did to you, for everything I took away from you,” she continued. “I'm sorry for not being what you needed in your life, and not being there for you when you needed me the most.” She struggled to keep her body under control as her shoulders began to shake, and her voice started to hitch.”I'm sorry for more than I can ever apologize for.” 2B stifled a sob as she leaned forward, placing her hand on the stake, her grip tightening around the end. “I don't have any right to ask for this, but I would do anything to see you one last time, and tell you all this myself, but from what I've heard, I don't think my soul will go to the same place as yours.”

Lunar Tears, according to myths and legends, were supposed to grant wishes. There were hundreds of flowers in this long-forgotten and abandoned cavern, so maybe, hopefully, just one of them would grant her own wish.

“9S... Nines... I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry...”

With no one around, 2B mourned, continued to mourn, as there was hardly a time in the better part of the three years that she did not mourn 9S' death, even when he was right beside her.

This was supposed to make her feel better, to bring her some semblance of peace, but all it did was remind her of how she could never make things right, and it felt like the weight of the world was crushing her from above.

000

Please be well,

Mrfipp

[askrandomslasher]

Hi I’m the anon that flinches when my mom touches me and also the one that doesn’t know yet if I want to kiss people cause I’m ace. thank you so much for your advice, I’ll keep it in mind and it did make me feel lot better. I have one more thing. My self esteem is practically non existent and since like 4 years ago it had done nothing else than get lower. To the point I want to vomit or I slightly panic when I see a picture of me, do you maybe have advice on that? I really don’t know what to do.

I’ve actually been there. In a lot of ways I am still there. I hate pictures of myself. I’m fat, and I hate that about me. (I wasn’t always--I’ve never been skinny, but I’ve been much thinner than I am, but after a back injury I put on about 150 lbs because I couldn’t move well). 

i’m working on changing it about myself in a few ways. One way is my fiance--before we were engaged, back when we were just close friends, she and I worked together to help me acclimate to frequent or affectionate touch. She would wrap her arm around my waist, or hug me, or cuddle up next to me, until I couldn’t tolerate it and asked her to stop. I would get better at tolerating it for longer periods as I got acclimated to affectionate, physical touch. Eventually I got to the point where I enjoyed it. 

The picture thing I’m working on by taking them more frequently. I’m reminding myself that there are people who really like me, who see me on a regular basis, who know what I look like already. So pictures of me, for them, aren’t ‘awful’ or ‘hideous’--that’s basically how I look and they already love me for it. And if I think it’s awful or hideous, it’s because I’m not used to seeing me, and I carry a different image of myself in my own mind than the one that I see in pictures. It’s the discordance between those two different images that is really what throws me off, not the image itself. It’s not that I look awful, exactly--it’s that I look so much different than I thought i did. 

So taking selfies, or short videos of me, and looking at them in privacy allows me to start getting used to the way I do look. And slowly, I’m learning to find the things that make me happy about my appearance. Sure, I’m fat, but my smile is pretty welcoming, and my nose is kinda cute, and my hair looks pretty good in this style. It’s a work in progress, but it’s working.  

Start working on familiarizing yourself with your own image, and try to find things you like about it. Surround yourself with people who regularly tell you nice things about you. And when you hear that small voice that starts being mean, try this: 

Imagine the person in the mirror or the photograph is your best friend. And as yourself: “Is this how I would talk to my best friend?” 

Or imagine the person is you, as a small child. Ask yourself, “Would I address a five-year-old in such a mean way?” 

If the answer to those questions is ‘no,’ then why would you talk to yourself that way? You were once that small child--and you can be your own best friend, or your own worst enemy. Try being the friend. 

I’m sorry if this advice is a little rambling. I’m still on pain medication, lol. 

OH! One last strategy: If pretending you are your best friend or the child version of yourself DOESN’T work, try this: pretend that voice that is saying all those mean things is someone you really hate. Then you can get angry at it, and defy it. Like...if I’m staring in the mirror and I hear a voice say, “Ugh, why are you so fat?” I’ll pretend it’s Donald Trump, and I’ll be like, “FUCK YOU TRUMP, I’M BIG AND BEAUTIFUL AND I DON’T CONFORM TO YOUR MISOGYNISTIC WORLDVIEWS!” 

It’s surprisingly effective. 

[hajimeme-hinata]

Hi this is probably the best thing I've ever written but it's not finished and probably never will be so I don't wanna post it on ao3 so.. here it is (it's dangan btw)

Ibuki

--hajime!!

--hajime!!

--hajime answer your phone!!

--hajime!!

--are you sleeping?

--hajime!!

--hajime!!

--hajime!!

--h

--a

--j

--I

--m

--e

--wake up

--h

--a

--j

You

--JC IBUKI IT'S 12 O CLOCK WHAT DO YOU WANT

Ibuki

--hajime!

--come over to ibuki's house!

You

--Wait, now?

Ibuki

--yeah!

You

--Why?

Ibuki

--because ibuki wants you to to!

You

--I'm not going to your apartment at midnight just because you want me to

--I need sleep

--Which you have rudely awakened me from btw

Ibuki

--but hajime it's only 12

--you can spare some time to come over!

You

--But I'm tired

--What if I crash into a gas station

--Driving sleep deprived is very dangerous

Ibuki

--i'll just have mahiru pick you up!

You

--Wait you mean Koizumi?

--Wait Ibuki

--Why her

--Ibuki

--What are you doing

--Ibuki

--Ibuki

-----

"Hajime!" Ibuki was practically exploding with energy, not like that was any different then normal. "You came! Ibuki thought you fell back asleep! Mahiru would have been really angry if you were sleeping when she came!" I have a feeling Koizumi would have shown up angry no matter what I did... "Did Mahiru find your apartment or did you drive here yourself?"

"Oh, I found his apartment." Koizumi spoke from behind me, "It's a miracle I did, with those really vague directions you sent me."

Ibuki looked confused for a second. "Vague? Ibuki only gives the best of directions!"

"I'm pretty sure Hinata can agree that what you sent me was not 'the best of directions'."

I nodded, "I'm gonna have to back up Koizumi on this one, describing every street with a song title isn't very effective." It took Koizumi having to call me to figure out if I actually lived on a street called 'As Warm as Your Freshly Spilled Blood' to even know what part of town I lived in.

"It's the only way Ibuki can remember... Regular street names aren't very fun..." She looked at the wall in thought before snapping back to her bouncing self. "Anyways, you guys are late! Everyone else is already here!" Ibuki grabbed my hand in one hand and Koizumi's in the other, dragging us further in the apartment and calling out pretty loudly, "Guess who's here!"

After pulling us into a hallway, Ibuki stopped and motioned us to stay put, and walked up to another doorway. Koizumi let out a sigh, and Ibuki immediately turned around to shush her. I sat down, and Koizumi followed suit. Ibuki practically leaped into the other room with a yell. "Guess who's here!"

"We heard you the first time," a voice came from the room in response to her, "and I thought you weren't inviting anyone else."

"Hold on," I whispered to Koizumi, who was also listening to the conversation, "Is that Saionji?"

She pushed my shoulder, making me lose my balence a little. "Shut up, I'm trying to listen."

I repositioned myself and focused on the voices again. "Ibuki didn't tell you more of Ibuki's friends are coming over because she wanted to surprise you! Now guess!"

"I-I know! Is it S-Sonia?" Tsumiki's soft voice asked.

"Nope!"

"Would it be Komaeda?" That sounded like Pekoyama, how many people could possibly be here?

"Close!"

"How was that close?" I whispered again, and the photographer next to me hit me.

"Well you're both terrible at following directions, for one."

I turned my head to face her, "What directions am I supposed to follow, we weren't given any!"

Her annoyed expression was starting to turn to one of anger, "The one where I told you to stop talking because I can't hear if you don't!"

"Well I remember Ibuki telling us both to be quiet, so it looks like I'm not the only one not following directions."

Koizumi squeezed her eyes shut, "Ugh, boys are so ann-"

"I'll guess Hajime and Koizumi, since I can hear them arguing in the hallway."

We both stopped at the mention of our names. The thumping of what I assumed was Ibuki jumping slightly shook. "Correct, Chiaki!" Ibuki appeared in the doorway again, color streaked hair bouncing along with her. "You guys gave yourselves away! You need to let them guess first!"

I stood up from my spot on the floor and stretched. "Sorry, Ibuki. I guess we were getting excited waiting to see who was here."

Her eyes lit up right away, "Oh yeah, you still don't know who's here!" She reached over to Koizumi first and slapped her hand over her eyes, making Koizumi let out a sound of surprise and struggle for a second before giving up. She then turned quickly toward me, and her other hand flew toward my face, and I out of reflex shut my eyes quickly and tried to duck my head. Her hand hit my face at high speeds anyways. Sometimes I forget just how fast she can be...

"Mahiru, close your eyes! Ibuki can see you opening them!" I felt Ibuki pull me along, then felt her lift her hand from my face. "Okay... Now open your eyes!"

I blinked my eyes open. Chiaki, Pekoyama, Saionji, and Tsumiki all sat in a half circle on the floor, staring up at us.

Chiaki was the first to speak. "Hello, Hajime. I thought you'd be sleeping by now."

I looked off to the side with I sigh. "I was supposed to be..."

"Hiyoko!" Koizumi sounded angry, "You didn't tell me you were coming here!"

Saionji's eyes widened. "Ah..!" Her eyes started to water. "Ibuki told me not to tell you..”

The singer nodded quickly. "It's true! Ibuki wanted it to be a secret..! To surprise Mahiru!"

Koizumi's expression softened. "That makes sense.."

"Great!" Ibuki sat down directly across from Tsumiki. I followed her lead and sat down next to her, Chiaki on my other side, closing part of the circle. Koizumi also complied, sitting next to Ibuki and Saionji, closing the circle completly.

"So," Ibuki started off, "You're probably all wondering why I brought you here. Well..." She threw her hands in the air. "It's Ibuki's birthday!"

Saionji's expression turned to confusion. "What? It's not your birthday."

"I-I agree with Saionji, I-Ibuki.. Today is November 26, and I believe your birthday is November 27..." Tsumiki spoke quietly, not making eye contact.

"Hey, I was still talking you little-"

"Hey!" Ibuki reached across Koizumi and pushed Saionji backwards, making her screech and fall back. "It's my birthday, so no fighting!" After patting Tsumiki's head, she sat back down. "And it is my birthday! Look at the time! It's been my birthday for twenty three minutes!"

Chiaki nodded. "So you're pulling the 'technically' card, hmm?"

Ibuki just giggled. "And so, in celebration of my birthday, I've invited all of my bestest friends to have a sleepover with!"

"What...?" I stared at her. "You didn't tell me that!"

"You didn't tell me any of that either!" Koizumi spoke up again.

"I'm afraid she didn't tell any of us." Pekoyama answered in a calm voice, and turned to look at Ibuki. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Ibuki wanted you all to be surprised! Like a reverse surprise party!"

"You could've at least told us to bring some extra clothes or something..." Koizumi mumbled.

Ibuki smiled. "Don't worry, you won't need anything Ibuki doesn't have! Besides, we won't be sleeping, so that one less thing you need stuff for!"

"Hold on." I interrupted quickly, "What do you mean we won't be sleeping?"

"It means, we won't be sleeping! Ibuki's sleepover is going to be so fun we won't have time for sleeping!"

"But Ibuki! I need sleep! If I don't get enough I start getting pissed off at everything!"

Saionji grumbled, "Then you must be tired all the time..."

"Good thing you slept already today Hajime!" I tried to argue with her, but she wrapped her arm around me and pulled me closer to her, making me fall against her side.

"Ibuki-!" I stuggled to get up, but she was holding me down with her arm. "Ibuki!"

"Before the wild night of fun starts, Ibuki must set up some rules!" I finally pried my head out from her arm. Wow, she's really strong... "First: no fighting! Ibuki won't name names, but people with spiky hair, red hair, and banana hair should listen!" Saionji scowled. "No one is allowed to yell at each other! Anyone that does will be sent to the closet of doom~!" Ibuki pointed to the hallway, "It's small and crowded and filled with stuff from the previous owner Ibuki was too lazy to throw away!"

Koizumi frowned. "I thought I told you to clean that closet ou-"

"Second!" She held up two fingers, "What Ibuki says goes! It's Ibuki's birthday!"

"That's pretty much setting up a monarchy for yourself..." I leaned my head on my hand.

"Monarchys don't exist if it's their birthday!" She put up another finger. "Third!" Ibuki looked like she was about to say something else, then stopped, looking deep in thought. "...Well... Ibuki hadn't thought past rule two... but if Ibuki need to add more Ibuki will!"

Pekoyama nodded. "That seems fair enough."

"Now that we've gotten rules out of the way," Ibuki sat up straight, "Who has an idea of what to do?"

I stared at her. "You mean after calling us all to your house in the middle of the night and surprising us with a sleepover, you have no plans?"

Ibuki laughed nervously. "Well... Getting Hajime out of bed via text took up a lot of my time... Besides! Spontaneous things always go much better then planned things! So, what do you want to do?"

Chiaki tapped her lip. "Hmm.. what to do with a group of people..."

"Maybe we could all tell ghost stories in the dark, then go to sleep." Everyone ignored me, not like I expected any different.

Chiaki spoke again, "How about something like a 'club activity'?"

I thought for a second before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, actually, that'd be really fitting for right now."

"Um..." Tsumiki stuttered, "I-I don't mean to be r-rude but... W-What's a 'club activity'?"

"Yeah, I'm with Mikan! What's a club activity?"

"Well," Chiaki explained, "I'll leave out the confusing specifics, but basically everyone plays a game, and whoever loses has to do a punishment everyone agrees on, like annoying a teacher, wearing a maid outfit to school, buying a parenting book at the grocery store-"

"Oh! So it's a game with a reason to win!" Ibuki exclaimed. "That seems fun!"

"So all we need is a game to play, right?" Pekoyama pulled on the strap of her sword case.

Ibuki's eyes lit up and she jumped to her feet. "Ibuki knows the perfect game!" She ran out of the room, and after a few seconds of crashing noises she came back in holding something and threw it in the middle of the circle. "Ta da! I found it in the closet of doom a few days ago!"

Koizumi leaned forward to read the title on the pack. "Uno?"

"Uh-huh! It seems pretty fun! You pass cards around and find the Uno card!"

I looked at her. "That's, uh, not how you play.."

"Here," Koizumi snatched the pack of cards and opened the top. "I've played before."

"Hold on." Chiaki held out her hand into a stop motion. "We still need to choose the punishment."

Ibuki smiled and laughed. "Oh, Ibuki has the best punishment..."

---

"Come on, Hajime, you can do it!" Chiaki sat next to me, trying to cheer me on. I stared at my cards. Ever since we started, I've been gathering cards, with no hope I'll ever get rid of them. So far, Chiaki, Pekoyama, Ibuki, and Koizumi have all gotten rid of all their cards, in that order. All that's keeping me from joining them is Tsumiki, Saionji, and a handful of cards.

"Hey Hinata, it's your turn." Hearing Koizumi's voice pulled me out of my concentration. I choose one of my cards and placed it on the pile. Maybe if I can lay down enough skips, I can-

"There!" A soft voice made me snap my head up. Tsumiki had a small smile, and no cards in her hands.

"Yay!" Ibuki threw her arms around Tsumiki. "Mikan won! She won't need to do the punishment!" She squished her face into Tsumiki's side, making Tsumiki giggle.

"Come on, Hajime, it's the final stretch!" Chiaki continued to say words of encouragement. It was probably a lost cause, though, since it looked like Saionji was running out of cards. Then again, she had a lot of cards too, so maybe...

We continued on, me carefully placing cards, Saionji sweating and concentrating hard, both of us silent.

"Come on Hiyoko..." Koizumi whispered, looking as concentrated as Saionji. The short girl picked up another card from the drawpile with a shaking hand and threw it on the stack.

"Uno!" She held a single card in her hand, smiling. Crap, if I don't put down the right card it could be all over for me... I stared at my last cards in my hands.

"There's only a one in four chance the card you lay down will work with her's, even less with the amount of other cards you could put down." Chiaki's right, the chances are pretty low.. I searched my cards. I used all my special cards earlier in the game, so all I had left were regulars. I choose a red six and gritted my teeth. Maybe, if I'm lucky...

Saionji just smiled bigger and laid down her last card: a wild card.

"Haha! Big bro Hinata lost!" She threw her hands in the air, laughing.

I groaned and laid back, covering my face in defeat. "No..."

"Yup! Hajime lost! He has to do the super duper terrible punishment!" Ibuki pumped the air with her fist.

"Ugh..." I curled into a ball on the floor. I'm dead...

Chiaki patted my head, probably out of sympathy. "You tried."

--

"Hajime!" Ibuki pounded on the bathroom door.

"There's no way I'm wearing this! It can't be the only thing you have!" The outfit Ibuki had given me was a pair of extremely torn up jeans, with slashes down the front and back of them, and a frayed t shirt with a band I've never heard of before.

"That's Ibuki's second greatest outfit! If Hajime doesn't like it he won't like anything else!"

I sighed, looked at my myself in the mirror one last time, and opened the door. Thankfully, only Ibuki was there, the others must have stayed back in the other room.

Ibuki's eyes lit up. "What's Hajime talking about! That looks great!"

I pulled on the shirt. "I look like a scene kid."

"Ibuki would hope so, Ibuki wore it during her scene days!" That made sense...

"Do you have anything else? As much as I love this," I gestured to the clothes, "I don't think it's really my style."

"Everyone will vote on it then!" Ibuki ran to the doorway, "Hajime wants to show you all something!"

"Ibuki, no I don't!" I was too late to stop her, though, because the shout had been heard.

Tsumiki ran in first. "W-What is it Ibu..." She stopped in her tracks when she saw me. "H-Huh?"

Saionji pushed the nurse out of the way. "Why the heck are you ye-" She stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter. "Big bro Hinata, you look great! Very flashy!"

"What are you wearing, Hinata?!"

"I think you should keep the scene stuff to Ibuki, Hajime."

I groaned. "Ibuki, do I seriously have to wear this? It's really tight and itchy.."

Ibuki nodded, "Yup! Ibuki thinks Hajime looks great! Although, Ibuki thinks he would look better if he dyed his hair..!" She jumped forward and patted at the hair near the my face, and I swatted her hand away.

"Well, I guess if this is all the punishment is I can endure it." I stretched my arms as far above my head as I could without ripping the fabric.

Ibuki's eyebrows scrunched up. "Huh? Ibuki doesn't understand."

I turned to her. "What?"

"This is just Hajime's outfit he's gonna wear for the punishment! Ibuki doesn't want his normal clothes getting all dirty!"

Pekoyama looked at Ibuki. "Ibuki, what do you mean? I thought we discussed the punishment earlier."

The guitarist averted her eyes, laughing guiltily. "Ahaha, well, you see.. Ibuki thought that punishment wasn't original enough! Jumping into a freezing pool at a sleepover? Ibuki feels like that's been done before!"

"Ibuki," Koizumi put her hands on her hips, "You can't just change the punishment because it's 'not origi-'"

Ibuki jumped, "But Mahiru, Ibuki's thought of a much better punishment! Besides, remember rule number one!"

Koizumi rolled her eyes. I turned to Ibuki, "Wait, so if I'm not getting wet, why did I need to change clothes?"

Ibuki smiled. "Ibuki told you, you might dirty!"

I sighed as Ibuki raised both her hands, "Now who wants to put on some blindfolds and get into Mahiru's car!" She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me out of the bedroom before I could question the blindfold part of that statement, and I heard Koizumi follow us.

"Wait, why my car?!"

--

"Ibuki, why can't you drive? I don't even know where we're going."

"Mahiru is the only one qualified! Ibuki got her licence taken away after a boat party last year!"

After being thrown in between Saionji and Nanami and -true to Ibuki's word- blindfolded, I couldn't really tell

[batsysims]

100 QUESTIONS NO ONE ASKS

I was tagged by @tickledsims ty ily!!

1. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED? CLOSED when i was younger my little sister had a baby doll that would talk on its own at night and we called it the demon baby and hooooly shit

2. DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS? i dont take those bc my hair cant take cheap hair products but i do take the soaps!!

3. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT? i put the mattress cover sheet thingy on my bed but i dont use an actual sheet :/

4. HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE? nah lol

5. DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES? YES i love using office supplies i could spend all day at staples omg

6. DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM? no lol but il save the lil receipt coupons and find them in my wallet months after they expire

7. WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES? hhhhh bees

8. DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES? yep!! i love them its why im scared to use foundation i dont wanna lose em

9. DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES? i either smile or if my moms takin the pic il make a stupid face 

10. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? i have terrible road rage...... um........... i also hate it when men interrupt me i just walk away at that point 

11. DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK? yeah i pretty much count everything

12. HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS? i dont think so??

13. HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS? def not lmao

14. DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERES NO MUSIC PLAYING? i have an eating dance, a drinking dance, and a video game playing dance hahaa

15. DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS? yes ugh it annoys me but i cant stop

16. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK? at LEAST 0

17. WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED? i think its a single? a single or a twin either way im miserable send help

18. WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK? ummm probably You by Weird Milk?? its the most recent song i added on spotify so  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

19. IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK? yeah def unless its one of those “real men wear pink shirts” like just.... stop

20. DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS? sometimes my sister makes me watch stevens universe?? il watch phineas and ferb too bc honestly who doesnt anime too but not always cartoon ones or w/e

21. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE? 2001: A Space Odyssey and Daughters of the Dust come to mind

22. WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE IF YOU HAD SOME? u kno where ;) no how big is the treasure?? if its a lil bit id put it in that drawer under the oven bc my family never uses that but if its BIG TREASURE id hide it in the backyard of the last house i lived in bc a. nobody lives there now and 2. its totally overrun with green bc of like two floods

23. WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER? water! only water ever

24. WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN? honey if theyre mcnuggets but other than that i use honey mustard!

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? chicky parm

26. WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE? honestly Inception is my feel-good movie

27. LAST PERSON, YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU? a lil babu

28. WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT? i was in girl scouts much longer than i ever wanted to be lmao WISH i coulda done BOY SCOUTS

29. WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE? if cash is involved absolutely

30. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER? aboutttt three months ago!

31. CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR? no but i can watch

32. EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET? when i first got my license yea :( 15 yr olds are dum

33. EVER RAN OUT OF GAS? twice! very good memories

34. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH? egg salad gud

35. BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST? the all star breakfast at waffle house yasssss

36. WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME? honestly like 9 since i always have to wake up at 7 in the am but il stay up til 11 if i can

37. ARE YOU LAZY? absolutely when have ACTIVE ppl done ANYTHING

38. WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN? i was usually a cat bc i never could find a costume i liked smh but when i was 2 i went as winnie the pooh lmao

39. WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN? ox!

40. HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK? just english but im tryna learn spanish and japanese and im fluent in french if a two year olds speech patterns can be considered as such

41. DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS? nah

42. WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS? LEGOS lincoln logs are big with nostalgia thoooo

43. ARE YOU STUBBORN? with dumb shit yeah but i usually just dont care enough abt stuff to deal

44. WHO IS BETTER: LENO OR LETTERMAN? theyre both old idc

45. EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS? no lol

46. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? not really tbh i like the adrenaline

47. DO YOU SING IN THE CAR? if im alone!! nobody deserves to hear that

48. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER? nahhh

49. DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR? when im in the drive thru haaaa

50. EVER USED A GUN? id like to go to a shooting range some time but ive never used one im also very anti gun so i probs would never buy one unless it was a cute lil glock i can handle well

51. LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER? st patricks day it wasnt technically for me tho

52. DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY? not in general but when ppl start obsessing over a certain one for months on end abt a certain time period and certain performers and certain songs and certain people of history i start wanting ppl to die

53. IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL? YEAH I NEVER HAVE MONEY WTF

54. EVER EAT A PIEROGI? my sisters obsessed with them so yea but never like. authentic polish potato pockets or anything just a frozen box of em

55. FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE? apple?? im not rly into pie tbh

56. OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID? ive wanted to go into law enforcement/criminology my whole life!! for a sec i wanted to be a firefighter, a journalist/writer/poet, and some sort of artist but u know how kids are

57. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS? i tried to find that clip from malcolm in the middle for like ten mins but i couldnt yea

58. EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING? doesnt everyone tho?

59. DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY? no im a bad adult

60. DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS? nah

61. DO YOU WEAR A BATH ROBE? im not rich!!

62. WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED? usually just my undies but when im living with other people il wear a soft shirt and my dc heroes pajama bottoms ayyy

63. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT? ive never been to one! i was gonna go see metallica in baltimore but i moved before i could smh

64. WALMART, TARGET, OR KMART? walmart sry targets cool but too much money!!! i go there for home things tho does kmart still exist

65. NIKE OR ADIDAS? ADIDAS ive been trying to get a full adidas tracksuit for YEARS

66. CHEETOS OR FRITOS? fritos! i like the super hot cheetos tho

67. PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS? peanutsssss

68. EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP TRES BIEN? Nope but they must be good im keepin @tickledsims response bc it made me laugh

69. EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS? when i was a lil babu i took ballet and gymnastics a lil later

70. IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING? i hope to never have a spouse  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

71. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? yep

72. EVER WON A SPELLING BEE? ive actually never even had a spelling bee im sure theyre a myth

73. HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY? i think so??

74. OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS? nah

75. OWN A RECORD PLAYER? nahhhhh

76. DO YOU REGULARLY BURN INCENSE? no but i had a roommate who did i fell in love

77. EVER BEEN IN LOVE? yeah ok lol so one time when i was a sophomore my french teacher had to use a substitute teacher and hes the reason i believe in love at first sight im STILL in love with him wtf ive also had a bf haha im hilarious

78. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT? i dont really do concerts so i couldnt say but i think matd would be fun!!

79. WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW? oh my god

80. HOT TEA OR COLD TEA? hot!!!!

81. TEA OR COFFEE? coffee!!!!!!

82. SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES? i dont rly like either but i prefer snickerdoodles over sugar

83. CAN YOU SWIM WELL? i can only do that weird frog swim i forget what its called so no im shit at it

84. CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE? ye

85. ARE YOU PATIENT? if im able to distract myself?? it also depends on the severity of what im waiting on i guess

86. DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING? probs a band i guess i dont rly think abt that kinda stuff sry

87. EVER WON A CONTEST? when i was four i won a coloring contest at the ice cream store

88. HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY? nope im poor 89. WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES? both are good!

90. CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET? i can knit but i cant crochet

91. BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE? fckn bathroom

92. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED? not rly unless its a partnership longlasting romance stresses me out especially with financial responsibility etc

93. IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED? -20 years

94. WHO WAS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH? my high school boyfriend hahaaa h,,,,

95. DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY? im an adult sry

96. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? 1!

97. DO YOU WANT KIDS? nope! lmao i love her tho

98. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR? red but i also like many others??? idk

99. DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW? ummm not rly?? im not close enough to anyone to miss them and those i am close to im able to hang with

100. WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAG TO DO THIS TAG NEXT? god uhhh if you havent done it already and want to, @dreambot @nebula-simms @ellowynsims and @pixelbloom

[digging-holes-in-the-river]

This morning I read this really useful post about... practical approaches to actually getting things done, even if you lack willpower.

Most of the ideas were familiar to me (they were either things I’d tried, or things other people had suggested to me), but I still found the post really inspiring and it helped me go about my day.

I had woken up at 10, lurked in bed until 11, and then got out of bed to use the computer.

In an ideal world, where the internet didn’t exist or wasn’t a temptation to me, my day would have gone like this: (1) wake up around 9, (2) wash dishes and make myself some breakfast, (3) spend the rest of the morning / early afternoon cleaning my living room and kitchen, (4) go for a hike in the late afternoon, (5) do my finances in the evening.

And I was going through the usual mental routine this morning, the one that’s like “ugh, if only I had willpower, I could do all the things I should be doing today, instead of wasting my time on the internet”. I had told myself to at least make myself lunch / caffeine around noon, but it was past noon, and I was still sitting at my desk chair.

Anyway, then I read that post, and I thought about... why I was doing all the things I did. Like, being on tumblr isn’t “slacking off” (and I would like to throw out the idea that all activities are either “being productive” or “slacking off”; that is not the dichotomy around which I want to organize my life).

The reason I’m on tumblr (after quitting and rejoining seven million times) is because... (a) I like the friends I’ve made here, and I like talking to them; tumblr is a form of social activity; and (b) I found that... while I was on tumblr, I did a lot more personal record-keeping and writing-things-down than I otherwise would; like, I keep meaning to start a personal, private diary where no one else can see it, and I never get around to doing it (because time is limited and I have a lot of other things to do), but on the other hand, I am totally motivated to make posts like this on my public tumblr where they’ll receive likes and feedback. I want to do more personal record-keeping (and don’t mind if most of it is public), so this is a good incentive structure for me.

And there’s been multiple times when... I sat down at my computer, with the intention of writing on tumblr, but was too exhausted or not motivated enough to write anything. So... the fact that I sat down this morning and wanted to write on tumblr was a good thing! Even if I’m not writing the things on my to-write list, even if my mind feels disorganized as I’m doing it, writing all this is still really useful and I’ll thank myself for it later.

And then I thought about all the things on my ideal to-do list. Food / caffeine were on the list because, if I don’t eat / consume caffeine by 1 or 2, my brain just stops working for the day, and I wanted to prevent that. The cleaning was because, every time I walk through my living room and kitchen, the dirt bothers me, and I’d be so much happier if they were clean. The hike was because I enjoy hiking, and also I’ve been making it a personal project to document all the plants growing near my house, and I haven’t been out to photograph them in almost a month. I know I’ve already missed a bunch of flowers that bloomed in July. And the finances were because I like keeping detailed financial records and being able to look back on them later. So all of these things are effortful activities, but they’re either effortful activities that I actively enjoy, or ones that I know I’ll benefit from later.

And once I had changed my framing in this way (as a content between one thing that helps me fulfill my goals (tumblr) and a bunch of other things that help me fulfill my goals (all the other tasks on the list)), I stopped feeling guilty for being on tumblr. And then, instead of having to work up the willpower to go make lunch because it was something I “should” do, I realized that it was something I wanted to do, because it would help me do other things I wanted to do afterwards. And then it took very little effort to get up out of my computer chair and make my lunch. And then I came back, and have spent the rest of the day since then on tumblr, after deciding that... if I have the motivation to write today, then screw my original plan, I’m going to spend the day on the internet. I definitely want to do my finances today (so they’re not hanging over my head) and probably clean the living room, but the rest of the cleaning can wait, and I can go hiking some other time.

Then, around 5, despite having decided this, I realized that I still felt like I was “wasting my day” by spending so many hours at my desk. And I realized that I could alleviate that, somewhat, by going outside and using the computer on my deck (so that I wouldn’t be “wasting” the beautiful weather, and I’d get to spend some time outside). And that helped a lot.

So I’m having a good day.