#for the next hour (longer than literally everything else takes to draw combined) and it still doesnt look right

[ded-lime]

[nerdythebard]

#12: The Doctor [Doctor Who]

Brother, I disown you...

I don't know what my friend/chosen brother was thinking when he made this request... Actually, no, I know exactly what he was thinking! Well, no time to dawdle, let's do this Time Warp. Again.

Next Time: Before we return to the gods, I want to make a character very close to my heart. He is also a Doctor... only, word of warning, he's a little... Strange.

Well then... sigh, let's see the goals we need to meet to make the most brilliant alien in television playable in D&D:

Heroes Never Die: The signature ability of a Time Lord (and the most problematic), a way to cheat death and return to life. Yes, somehow we need to make a virtually immortal character in Dungeons & Dragons...

Bunny-Ears Lawyer: Even in his relatively serious regenerations, the Doctor is prone to flashes of randomness, acts of nonsense, mixing puns and physical comedy to often hide the incredibly fast and advanced brain processes.

Go-Go Gadget Galore: Do I even need to say anything? Besides his trusty TARDIS (which will not be included here, we're making the Doctor, not his equipment!), the Doctor also brandishes sonic devices of multiple varieties, psychic paper, the thing that goes DING, etc.

---

As you can imagine, finding the right race replacement for Time Lords wasn't easy. I'm definitely not using The-Movie-That-Does-Not-Exist solution, and making the Doctor... half-human, urgh. All we need to do is find a humanoid, almost-fossil race that can come back from death a limited amount of times.

The Doctor is a Human Revenant, a playtest race from Unearthed Arcana: Gothic Heroes. In-game, Revenant is an undead that came back to life to pursue a certain goal, whether it's vengeance, retribution, or to make amends. Putting some flavour into it, and turning it into a long-living, mysterious being who perhaps came from the Astral Plane to search for a way to save his home planet... why not? Regular Revenants get only a +1 to Constitution, but if we're using pre-existing race (such as Human), there's another set of rules. So, we get a +1 Constitution and +1 Intelligence, and we don't get to pick a skill or a feat. Not yet.

What's most important here is the Revenant's Relentless Nature feature. We are assigned a goal, a very specific one, that we must complete in order to achieve peace. Work with your DM on that one (the saving-your-home-world one from before sounds like a good start). Until we complete the goal:

If we are below Hit Points Maximum, at the start of our turn we regain 1 Hit Point;

We know the distance and direction to any creature involved in our goal (perhaps a fellow, once-friend Time Lord?);

When we die, we come back to life within 24 hours with 1 Hit Point. If our body is destroyed, we come back in a spot within 1 mile of our place of death (unfortunately, our equipment is destroyed);

BOOM! JUST FLAVOUR EACH DEATH AS A CHANGE OF FACE AND PERSONALITY, AND WE HAVE THE REGENERATION SYSTEM! HAH! YOU SEE THAT, BROTHER!?

Ekhm... back to work, then.

The Doctor is pretty far from home, so giving him the Far Traveller background seems like the right approach. We gain proficiencies in Insight and Perception skills, proficiencies with one musical instrument (perhaps a recorder?)/gaming set, we learn one language of our choice, and we get the All Eyes on You feature; our mannerisms and quirks definitely draw attention towards us and our group, but we can take advantage of that in order to fish for some information, secure an audience with the local nobleman, or... I dunno, snog Madame de Pompadour?

ABILITY SCORES

No surprise there, we start with Intelligence. We have a literal Big Galaxy Brain™ and we use it often, and only sometimes to show off. Follow that up with Dexterity, we're nimble and we're doing a lot of running, especially when being chased (plus, we've invented the Drunken Giraffe dance). Constitution is next, the Gallifreyan biology is significantly superior to that of regular Terrans.

Next up, Charisma. It usually works, sometimes it doesn't, but even then we're kinda adorkable. Wisdom is a little low, I think we all shall agree to that, the Doctor is a creature of whim. He gets lost in thought, has a hard time remembering to explain his logic to others. Finally, we're dumping Strength. Now, we're definitely physically stronger than humans, I just don't remember any particular feats of super-strength in the show.

Heck, you want even more Time Lord shenanigans? Ask your DM to implement the "every death/regeneration makes all ability scores randomly switch places" rule.

CLASS

Level 1 - Artificer: Once again, nobody is surprised we begin with the Smart & Techy One™ for the Doctor. Artificers were brought to 5e via Tasha's Cauldron of Everything. These magical tinkers have d8 Hit Dice, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, medium armour, heavy armour, shields, simple weapons, and optionally firearms (although that's definitely not the Doctor's style). We additionally get proficiency with thieves' tools, tinker's tools, and one set of artisan's tools we choose. We can't get the sonic screwdriver (although if you want one, hint to your DM about the existence of the All-Purpose Tool), we have all these tools to replace it with. Our saving throws are Constitution and Intelligence, and we get to pick two class skills: let's get History and Investigation.

Artificers start with Magical Tinkering, an ability to bestow harmless magical properties onto inanimate objects. We choose a Tiny object with no magic in it, and grant it one of the following properties indefinitely:

It sheds bright light for 5 feet and dim light for an additional 5;

Whenever tapped, the object plays a recorded message no longer than six seconds;

The object continuously emits a smell or a sound of our choice;

A static image (picture, lines of text, shapes, etc.) appear on the object's surface.

Artificers are also casters, so at the first level, we get Spellcasting. Our casting ability is, of course, Intelligence and the number of spells we can prepare is equal to [our Intelligence modifier + half of our Artificer level rounded down]. We also know how to cast rituals.

We start with two cantrips:

Magic Stone lets us imbue three pebbles with magic (or perhaps, in this case, kinetic energy?) for 1 minute. We can then use the pebbles ourselves, or give them to somebody else. On a successful hit, the target suffers [1d6 + our Intelligence modifier] bludgeoning damage and the spell ends on that particular pebble.

Prestidigitation is a cantrip of plenty varieties, which very well could be disguised as the Doctor's tinkering with his sonic screwdriver. It can be used to warm or chill food, clean or soil objects, or perhaps lighting and snuffing our small flames.

We start with two 1st-level spell slots, and we get three 1st-level spells:

Alarm sets up a secured perimeter, no larger than a 20-feet cube, for 8 hours. Whenever a create not-designated as safe while setting the spell, crosses its boundary, we get a signal informing us about the intrusion, which also wakes us up if we're sleeping. The signal can be set to inform only us, or everybody around.

Detect Magic informs us of any magical activity within 30 feet of us for 10 minutes (concentration). We sense magic lingering on objects, people, as well as locations, and we can determine the type of magic present (but not a particular spell, for example, we sense that a spell on the object is enchantment-type, but not that it's Power Word: Kill).

Identify is... pretty much the one function of the sonic screwdriver we've all seen. It lets us learn about an object we choose, including its magical properties (if any) and if it's affected by any spells. And it works on wood!

With a spell list like that, we can safely say

Level 2 - Artificer: We continue with the Tech Savvy Class, and we learn the Artificer's signature skill, Infuse Item. It lets us bestow magical properties onto mundane items. Similarly to Warlock's Invocations, Artificers have Infusions they can select and put into items. Starting from this level, we can infuse two items at once, and we get to pick four Infusions from the list. For the Doctor, let's pick:

Replicate Magic Item: Bag of Holding is probably the most useful infusion in the early game. The infusion does exactly what it says, and a Bag of Holding is always a good item to own (just watch out for the Bag Man!)

Enhanced Defence infusion puts some extra protection (+1 to AC) onto an armour or a shield.

Mind Sharpener is a helping hand for any spellcaster. The infusion put onto an armour, or woven into a robe, sends a jolt to re-focus the mind. When the wearer fails a Constitution saving throw to keep their concentration, one charge (out of four) of the infusion expends, to make them succeed instead. The charges are refilled at dawn.

Returning Weapon gives a +1 to attack and damage rolls of the weapon it's applied on and makes it return to the wielder's hand immediately after it's used to make a ranged attack. With the keyword "immediately", it gives your Rangers and other bow-users infinite ammunition with just one arrow.

We can also get one more 1st-level spell: Disguise Self changes our appearance for 1 hour, or until we choose to dismiss it as an action. The spell affects our body, clothing, and items we carry (including weapons). It is not a physical disguise, just an illusion woven around us; if we make ourselves thinner than we really are, and somebody was to touch the space where our regular body would be, they're going to feel the body, albeit invisible. For the Doctor, this seems like a combination of psychic paper and the Chameleon Circuit.

Level 3 - Artificer: At this level, we get the Right Tool for the Job feature. If we have thieves' tools or artisan's tools in hand, we can create any other set of artisan's tools.

We also get to pick our subclass, our Artificer Specialization. The Doctor is no alchemist, and we'll probably build Tony Stark at some time in the future, therefore we're picking Battle Smith. Those tinkers are masters of protections, being able to put up defensive mechanisms on the spot. Since the Doctor is a diplomat first, runner second, and combatant very close and reluctant third, focusing on support is a good option.

As a Battle Smith, we gain proficiencies with smith's tools, and we gain some more magic with Battle Smith Spells:

Heroism imbues the willing creature with bravery. Until the spell ends (1 minute, concentration), the target is immune to being frightened and gains Temporary Hit Points equal to our Intelligence modifier at the start of each of their turns (AKA every six seconds). When the spell ends, any Temporary Hit Points remaining are lost.

Shield creates an invisible barrier as a reaction to getting hit. It adds +5 to our AC until the start of our next turn.

Although a reluctant fighter, the Doctor as a Battle Smith also gets the Battle Ready feature. We gain proficiency with martial weapons, and when we attack with a magic weapon, we can use our Intelligence modifier instead of Strength or Dexterity for attack and damage rolls.

Finally, Battle Smiths get the Steel Defender. With our tinkering, we create our first companion, a steel defender; it is friendly to us and our companions and obeys our commands. With that, we got ourselves the one and only K9

Level 4 - Artificer: At this level, we get our first Ability Score Improvement! However, instead of upgrading our abilities this time, we'll grab a feat. The Telepathic feat from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything will represent the Doctor's limited psychic abilities: we increase one of our non-physical abilities by 1, let's go for Intelligence. We can speak telepathically to any creature within 60 feet, but the creature cannot reply (unless they're telepathic too, of course). Finally, we can touch a Detect Thoughts spell once per long rest, without a need to expend spell slots. Give your target a good headbutt, and learn their surface thoughts.

We also get our final spell: Catapult turns one inanimate object that isn't worn or carried (and weighs from 1 to 5 pounds) and turns it into a remote projectile. The object flies in a straight line for 90 feet before losing its momentum and falling. If it hits a creature, they have to make a Dexterity saving throw or take 3d8 bludgeoning damage. Distract your pursuers with a head of cabbage flying at their heads.

Level 5 - Rogue: We say goodbye to the Artificer, as we move onto Rogue for the rest of the build. Rogues use the same Hit Dice as Artificers, so nothing really changes when it comes to our Hit Points. We already have proficiency with light armour and thieves' tools, but we can pick one class skill – let's pick Acrobatics for better running and parkour chances when escaping aliens and responsibilities.

Rogues start with Expertise, which lets us double our proficiency bonus (NOT ability modifier) for two skills of our choice: let's boost Insight and History, to best utilize our centuries of living. We also learn how to speak Thieves' Cant, a special system of phrases and signals used by other Rogues to communicate without revealing their secrets. Finally, we have Sneak Attack: once per turn we can add 1d6 extra damage if a) we have an advantage on our roll, or b) the target is within 5 feet of another creature hostile towards it. The attack must be done by either a ranged weapon or one with the finesse property (like a dagger or a rapier).

Level 6 - Rogue: We get Cunning Action, which let us turn some Actions we can do in combat into Bonus Actions. That way, we still have an Action to spare if we decide to use Dash, Disengage, or Hide. Considering how much running the Doctor does, it's good to have something else to do just in case.

Level 7 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack changes to 2d6.

We also get to pick our second subclass, our Roguish Archetype. Now, initially, I considered going Swashbuckler, as it combines nimble footwork and gives us some charm abilities. However, since we're going with the build that emphasizes support and actual combat as a last resort, we'll go with Inquisitive.

We start this subclass with Ear for Deceit, whenever we roll Insight checks to determine if a creature is lying to us, we treat each roll of 7 or lower as 8.

We also get Eye for Detail. This is mostly to be used in combat (or if your DM runs dungeons in Initiative Mode), as it allows us to use Perception or Investigation checks as a bonus action, where it would normally take an action.

Finally, Inquisitive Rogues get Insightful Fighting. As a bonus action, we can make an Insight check, contested by the enemy's Deception check. If we succeed, for 1 minute we can use our Sneak Attack on the target even if we don't have an advantage or the target isn't near another of its enemies.

Level 8 - Rogue: Time for another ASI! Let's raise our Intelligence by 1 point, and use the spare one for Strength.

Level 9 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack changes to 3d6.

We also get Uncanny Dodge. Whenever we're being hit by an attack, we can use our reaction to halve the damage dealt.

Level 10 - Rogue: Halfway through the build, and we get another shot at Expertise. Once again, we get two skills to which we can double our proficiency bonus. Let's go with Perception and Investigation.

Level 11 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack becomes 4d6.

We also get one of the better abilities in the game, Evasion. If we're being targeted by an AoE attack that would deal half damage on a successful Dexterity saving throw, we take no damage if we make the save. What that means is, we can now take a Fireball face-on, shrug it off and loudly proclaim

Level 12 - Rogue: We get another ASI. Let's improve our Dexterity by two points this time.

Level 13 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack becomes 5d6.

We also get another subclass feature. Steady Eye gives us an advantage on Perception or Investigation checks if we move no more than half of our movement speed on our turn.

Level 14 - Rogue: Time for another ASI. Let's focus on getting some more Hit Points this time, and get +2 points to Constitution.

Level 15 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack becomes 6d6.

At this level, we get Reliable Talent, which upgrades our abilities to almost anime protagonist-level. Whenever we make a check for a skill we're proficient in, we treat all rolls of 9 and lower as 10.

Level 16 - Rogue: We're getting one more ASI. Let's raise our Dexterity again, putting 2 points in it.

Level 17 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack becomes 7d6.

We get our final subclass upgrade for this build, the Unerring Eye. We can now sense illusions and magical tricks within 30 feet, as well as shapechangers not in their original form. We can detect there is an effect trying to trick our senses around us, but we don't know its nature (i.e. if we meet a creature that activates our sense, we cannot distinguish whether it's a Disguise Self spell, or a natural shapeshifting ability, or a Druid's Wild Shape).

Level 18 - Rogue: We get another one of the best abilities in the game, Blindsense. We can now detect the presence of invisible and hidden creatures within 10 feet radius of us.

Level 19 - Rogue: Our Sneak Attack becomes 8d6.

Our mind becomes more slippery with Slippery Mind. We gain proficiency in Wisdom saving throws.

Level 20 - Rogue: Our build's capstone is Rogue 16, which is also our final ASI. Let's finally cap Intelligence, as it should've been from the start when it comes to Time Lords.

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There it is. My take on how to play as the Doctor in Dungeons & Dragons. I believe I've covered most if not all of the important features the Doctor has, but let's see:

Let's face it, we're not a frontline fighter... we're not even a backline fighter. We support. With 14 AC (without armour), 151 Hit Points on average, and a +4 to Initiative, our job is to manoeuvre, around the battlefield and let our friends take care of the enemy, while we do other things. With Reliable Talent and Expertise we are great at sweeping the room for clues and hints, even if in the heat of battle. Thanks to Unerring Eye and Blindsense, our senses aren't that easy to fool.

Unfortunately, our Strength is not great, and that means some weapons are just a hindrance (unless we pick a finesse weapon, which replaces Strength with Dexterity). While we have late-game proficiency in Wisdom saving throws, throughout the earlier stages those might prove a little problem.

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And that is it for this build. I hope that you guys enjoyed it, and I'll see you for the next one!

- Nerdy out!

[sailormoonandme]

Why does Usagi think Mamoru might leave/cheat on her?

Occasionally during Sailor Moon R, S and SuperS Usagi seemed to have these moments of insecurity where she was concerned that Mamoru was either interested in other people or else other people might make a play for him.

The real life reason for this I suspect is simply because Sailor Moon has a lot of sitcom sensibilities alongside it’s romantic elements, so milking comedy from a romantic topic by having our lead act over the top or goofy is a logical writing tool to reach for. Especially when you have such a large quantity of episodes to produce.

However, I have a more in-universe explanation to propose.

In real life Usagi’s behaviour would most likely be connected to trust issues with her partner, with other people or else concerns about her own inadequacies. However, I don’t think that’s the case here.

Rather, I think it’s actually far more connected to the numerous times Usagi has loved and ‘lost’ Mamoru.

Back in the Silver Millennium days there was this low key implication that romantic mingling between the Moon Princess and Earth Prince was somehow forbidden. After all when Endymion came to the Moon and tried to warn Serenity about Metalia and Beryl the royal guards chased him away and he needed to disguise himself. So from Serenity’s POV the social system she was living in was limiting her ability to be with the man she loved and made their future together at best uncertain.  

Now, I admit that’s perhaps a bit too big of an extrapolation to draw from, especially for the anime version of the characters where we got far less info about their past lives. However, the more significant part here is the fact that Endymion was taken from her when he was killed by the Dark Kingdom. Seeing her lover murdered in front of her whilst her home were also being destroyed (and her friends killed) would obviously be very traumatic, particularly if Serenity was mentally and physically the equivalent of a fourteen year old like Usagi.  

In her next life she was crushing very hard on Tuxedo Mask who routinely showed up to aid her and then rarely lingered. That’s not exactly traumatic, but the early days of their relationship would’ve still been founded by Usagi seeing the person she wants to stick around and spend time with her leave her when she wouldn’t want him to.

She also feared Tuxedo Mask had died in episode 13 when Jadeite announced that he’d killed him. True, he was revealed as alive and well shortly afterwards, but the horror of that moment (however brief it may’ve been) could’ve stuck with Usagi.

Then, in the iconic 34th episode of the show, Mamoru was violently impaled right in front of her. We can debate if he died and was consequently revived by the Dark Kingdom or if he was merely close to death before his abduction. But either way that’d inevitably be an instance where Usagi once again traumatically lost the man she loved, or at least came extremely close to doing so if not for the emotion of the moment re-awaking her old memories.

Speaking of which, as episode 35-36 make clear, the mere act of abruptly regaining all her memories would be emotionally wrenching all on it’s own. When combined with the tragic and traumatic nature of those memories, it’s far from unbelievable that subconsciously this would further mark Usagi’s psyche.  

The reveal that her lover is alive but no longer remembers her and is actively a threat to her now would obviously compound this. As would the fact that in episode 36 he uses a rose to hurt her. It’s not a serious wound at all, but he still hurt her and used an object that up until then he’d used explicitly to help and protect her. Within Usagi’s mind his roses would’ve likely been ‘coded’ with positive emotions, so seeing them used in that way would’ve been further upsetting for her, in essence a perversion of what they should  mean to her mind. The roses now being black are an apt metaphor for this point.  

Of course during the final stretch of episodes in season 1 Usagi almost  restores Mamoru. But that’s the key here, she almost  succeeds. First it the ski episode where he briefly seems to break out of his brainwashing and then again in the episode where Ryo (and the other Rainbow Crystal hosts) returns. In the latter she actually succeeds in restoring him to normal but he’s abducted immediately once again. Not only did Usagi lose Mamoru a few more times but her active efforts to bring him back to her failed.

We then come to the most traumatic events in Usagi’s second life (up to that point), episodes 44-46.

In episode 44, not only did she once again re-experience the tragic destruction of the Silver Millennium, but she got a ‘bird’s eye view’ of everything that happened, including the specific moments she, Endymion, her friends and even her mother died. True, her sadness or trauma over everyone else isn’t specific to her losing Endymion/Mamoru, however because these events happen so close together and are connected it’s not unbelievable that Usagi’s mind might’ve created an association. So her pain over seeing her mother die is associated also with her ‘losing’ Endymion as well. By that same token, the death of her beloved friends in episode 45 might’ve consequently become associated with what happened next.  

In episode 46 Usagi is outright attacked by a brainwashed Endymion. First she sees him loyally serving her enemy who (by proxy) murdered her friends like an hour ago. Worse she might’ve picked up on the obvious romantic undertones between Beryl and Endymion, including him kissing her hand, and let’s not forget in the flashback from episode 44 Beryl clearly desired Endymion. Whilst intellectually Usagi might know he’s not in his right mind, emotionally seeing him like that with Beryl in that context could emotionally upset her, almost as though he was betraying their love in the worst possible way.  

Endymion’s efforts against her are also significantly more violent and active than anything he did before since episode 36. Dashing a rose across the back of her hand pales in comparison to ensnaring her and shocking her with his roses. Not to mention trying to slice her up with the very same sword he would’ve used to defend her in the Silver Millennium. Even if you don’t buy into my point about perverting these symbols of their relationship, the mere act of him hurting her and trying to murder her like that is going to obviously be emotionally arresting.

In a sense in those horrible moments for Usagi Endymion/Mamoru really was ‘lost’ to her, he merely looked  like her lover. This I think is why it was significant that she actually fought  back against him with her tiara. But since he still looked like her lover and intellectually she knew he wasn’t to blame (and emotionally hoped he was still salvageable) her own act of self-defence horrified her.  

Of course she does save him, but then he dies again. Depending on how you look at it, from Usagi’s POV this is at least the second  time he’s really died and that number climbs higher if you include his presumed death in episode 13 and the number of times she had to re-experience his death in the Silver Millennium. And that isn’t even counting traumatic dreams about him dying in the aftermath of episodes 34-35. It doesn’t help that his mortal injuries in episode 46 are eerily similar to the ones he sustained in episode 34, namely a violent impalement.

We might even argue this is categorically the worst  instance up until this point of Usagi watching her lover die or seemingly die. In the Silver Millennium she herself died seconds later. In episode 13 they weren’t nearly as close as they’d become by episode 46 and she at least had friends and family in her life she knew she could lean on. This equally applies to Mamoru seemingly dying in episode 34 and even his abduction in episode 35. In fact with Minako, Makoto and Artemis Usagi had an even larger support network than before. In episode 46 though her lover has died in her arms, she’s left to go on and the Inner Senshi are dead, Luna and Artemis aren’t around and the end of the world is imminent. She’s truly all alone in her grief and intellectually she knows that even if somehow she resolves the crisis her support network has been mostly gutted. THEN she herself dies  to defeat Beryl/Metalia and save the world.

She gets her fondest wish, to go back to a normal life, but that’s also taken from her due to the arrival of Ail and An. Yay for Usagi, she gets to have ALL of those traumatic memories from the Silver Millennium rerun through her head AGAIN. And this time they’re complimented by the Hell she went through in losing her friends, her lover and dying herself in the Arctic.  

But hey, at least now she and her lover can finally be together right? Nope. He literally doesn’t know her. He isn’t Endymion. He isn’t Tuxedo Mask. He isn’t the Mamoru she knew and doesn’t even want to know her. Meanwhile a prospective romantic rival is sniffing around him and for all she knows he may well be interested in her. She gets a tiny ray of hope when Moonlight Knight shows up but that’s abruptly squashed when she receives (seemingly) hard proof this guy who seems oh so similar to the man she loves definitely isn’t that man. So her tiny hope of maybe  getting him back is taken from her almost as quickly as it came.

After Ail and An depart Earth Usagi finally   has what she wants…until two episodes later. This time in the cruelest twist of fate for her, it isn’t external forces that tears Mamoru away from her. This time he  takes himself from her. From a certain point of view this is sort of worse than him dying. Usagi knows death and reincarnation are a thing and that magic exists. She already knows that, as traumatic as it might’ve been, the pair have been given more chances than most people to get together. But how is that to happen when Mamoru, in his right mind and fully possessing all his memories, clearly conveys he doesn’t want her. In the same way Tuxedo Mask pulled a disappearing act early on, now Mamoru in normal life begins actively avoiding Usagi and even saying hurtful things to her.  

It is in episode 61 (the break up episode itself) that we arguably first see this insecure side to Usagi where she questions if Mamoru prefers a child under 10 years old to her. From there we also see Mamoru try to hint to her that he’s seeing Unazuki.  

Of course Usagi eventually learns that it WAS another external force pushing them apart again (well sort of but that’s for another day). However, to lose Mamoru again after all she’d already gone through to be with him was emotionally going to be a serious twisting of the knife for her, in addition to his efforts after episode 61 to push her away. The fact that his own desire to be with her caused him to still help and even hang out with her on occasion would’ve further confused her.  

But even after  this mess is cleared up, in Sailor Moon R The Movie: Promise of the Rose Usagi has to witness Mamoru nearly die for her again. And like on other occasions it comes via an impalement right in front of her and a consequent abduction to boot. And the abductee happens to be someone she and her friends suspect might harbor romantic feelings for Mamoru as well, someone who actively insulted her, actively tried to dissuade Mamoru from dating her and who literally  pushed her away from him.  

When taken collectively, I think all these traumas associated with Usagi ‘losing’ Mamoru or otherwise being prevented from being with him would make Usagi subconsciously on the alert for the next  thing that might take him from her.

I propose that this is the actual reason for Usagi’s concerns that Mamoru might like Chibiusa more than her, for why she gets concerned when Ami and Mamoru chat together in S, for why she goes all ninja in SuperS, etc. Deep down she does  trust him and deep down she trusts her friends and doesn’t actually  feel threatened by anyone who might try to hit on Mamoru.

It’s in reality a case of her gripping too tight precisely because the object of her desire has slipped through her fingers far too many times in the past.* Or if you like, from Usagi’s POV destiny might’ve pre-ordained that she fall in love with Mamoru but she may well be concerned that it’s also pre-ordained that they be allowed to enjoy  being in love, not for too long anyway.  

However, I think this in turn set up a great example of character development for our heroine.

First of all, in episode 132 we have Chibiusa outright warning Usagi she has a romantic rival and that if she doesn’t shape up she will  lose Mamoru to her, and yet Usagi shrugs this off. 

Of course, we could argue that this is Usagi trying to simply one up Chibiusa in this moment, or else she is dismissive of the warning precisely because it comes from Chibiusa whom is both a child and someone who makes a point of trolling her. On the other hand we might view this as an example of how Usagi has in fact grown and is more at peace with the idea that she isn’t about to have Mamoru taken from her for the umpteenth time.  

Granted her over reaction in episode 136, wherein she dresses as a ninja to ensure Rei and Mamoru don’t get up to anything, goes against that idea. However, we could just as easily argue that Usagi’s reactions in that episode were an example of her backsliding precisely because of Rei and Mamoru’s history. She might not worry about Rei and Mamoru deep down, but the idea of them living in the same place when they used to date and when she knows how active  Rei was in pursuing him back in the day? It’s not beyond belief that in these specific circumstances Usagi’s resolve faltered whereas she’d have been less concerned if it’d been a stranger or someone with no romantic history with Mamoru.ffff

More significantly though is Sailor Stars. Once more Usagi ‘lost’/nearly lost Mamoru. This time this was due to Queen Nehelenia, whose efforts poisoned the Earth and by extension endangered the life of her lover. Then she did that AGAIN, this time outright brainwashing and abducting him. 

Even if this didn’t remind Usagi of her horrible experiences with Evil Endymion and Beryl, it would’ve still been disturbing and upsetting, especially when Mamoru developed a mirror fetish. Usagi went through Hell and physical torture to try and save her lover and this time the stakes were even higher. Because this time losing him would also mean losing the other person she loved the most, (Chibiusa) a horrible event that she eventually witnessed happen.

Sure, she saved the day and got both her future husband and future daughter back, but she still had to live through those horrible experiences to get to that point.  

And yet, despite these fresh traumas regarding losing her lover, in episode 173 Usagi handles Mamoru leaving for America surprisingly well.

It’s made clear she’s upset by his departure and doesn’t want  him to go. But she comes mere inches from seeing him off with a smile as she intended, demonstrating her increased strength and maturity. 

And despite her tears, despite her not wanting him to go, she still sees him off, she doesn’t try to dissuade him, she isn’t worried that he’ll meet other people or that their relationship will get torn asunder once more. She is sad because they are going to be physically separated by a long distance for a long time, but that’s the only  thing that’s of concern to her. And her reaction even then is relatively reigned in (by her standards) even in the privacy of her own home.  

And from a narrative/emotional POV it is almost like the universe rewards  her for that growth via Mamoru giving her a promise/engagement ring, saying he loves her and kissing her in the airport.

Whilst the significance of the ring is obvious (albeit not to Usagi) we shouldn’t undersell Mamoru’s words or the kiss. 

I’m willing to be corrected on this but I’m fairly certain that episode was the first time Mamoru (not Endymion, not Moonlight Knight talking about  Mamoru, etc) had ever told Usagi he loved her. Of course, his actions spoke louder than words on this front. Even before Usagi knew Mamoru was Tuxedo Mask she suspected the latter rescued her because he was in love with her. Nevertheless, having your partner actually look you in the eye and say the words can be incredibly emotionally significant for a lot of people. In a sense it is the ultimate unambiguous proof of the other person’s feelings (in theory anyway). Even if Usagi hadn’t been waiting to hear him say the words (personally I think her expression implies she had been) it would’ve nevertheless been a significant development in their relationship all the same.  

And as for the kiss, I admit I only vaguely know about Japanese cultural norms regarding PDA, but it is to my understanding that kissing in public is frowned upon. Even if I’m wrong about that, Mamoru (as evidenced by the R movie) certainly doesn’t like to kiss Usagi when anyone else is around. If you go back to check most of their kisses, either they are alone or else it’s obvious Mamoru doesn’t think anyone is observing them. The fact that he kisses Usagi not only in a public space, but an airport of all places (when there are crowds there for three big celebrities no less) is a huge deal for him. And in turn it’s a huge deal for Usagi because, whilst Mamoru might have more reservations, Usagi clearly cared a lot less about PDA, typically being the one to initiate their kisses.  

Consequent episodes further demonstrate Usagi’s growth regarding her old insecurities with Mamoru. Putting aside how we never once see her worried about him seeing other girls, in episode 181 Seiya outright raises the idea of him seeing other people. Usagi casually, without a hint of aggression, dismisses the idea.  

The irony is that it is Usagi  who’s in the situation she so often worried about regarding Mamoru. She is the person being pursued by  romantic rival to her lover, namely Seiya.  

The cruel  irony is that Usagi having matured enough to accept Mamoru leaving (despite being deeply upset and lonely about it) actually had  lost him yet again.  

She just didn’t know it.  

*Not to mention…she is a teenager. Those people tend to be ever so slightly prone to emotional over reactions at the best of times.  

[emerald-amidst-gold]

I'm not immune to the fluff 💖

Hand-holding 32. not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands Touching 22. falling asleep on the other’s shoulder

AWWW YES! My fluff trap has worked! >:D

Some drabbles! Just for you, friend! <3

Their relationship was confusing for some. Well, most, if Fane was being honest, but he didn't really care what anyone else thought. Not many relationships in this day and age held a candle to what he and Solas had fostered, and that wasn't the fault of those who didn't understand. It was how the world was, and their relationship was complexity incarnate, so confusion was a typical reaction.

And many, many people didn't understand the concept of intimacy in sheer presence. Not all love was shown through acts of intercourse or raw carnal desire. Sometimes, it was as simple as an open palm and a small smile as two hands became as interlocked as a masterwork lock. Even better was when neither party thought of combining tumblers, the act instinctual, the purpose wanted in thought.

And that was very much what depicted their acts of intimacy.

"If I get one more letter from Halamshiral talking about my eyes, I will seriously gouge them out.", Fane growled as said eyes flitted across a piece of parchment; a letter in the most refined and disgusting filigree he had ever seen. He didn't get paid enough for this job.

"I would advise against self mutilation, vhenan.", Solas quipped from beside him, the two of them situated side by side as the mage's desk in the rotunda. His sky was currently reading his own text, but from the view of a small smirk and lax expression, it was far more calming than what Fane was currently having to deal with.

"Just try and stop me.", Fane said with a sneer before flicking the letter away unceremoniously, sighing. "What time is it, anyhow?" It felt late and he knew that because of how his marked hand felt numb and heavier than a dead weight, but also...warm?

"I am unsure.", Solas responded, throwing off his confusion from gentle heat. "The candle is worn down to about half, so I would hazard a guess and say close to midnight." The assessment even, concise, even as the voice that sounded them held the desire to sleep in its lilt.

Fane blinked. "Midnight?", he balked, the mage only letting out a hum in affirmation. "By anything that's holy, Solas, why didn't you--", he went to raise his left hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, but found that it was...heavy? And again, warm? "What the..? Why are we holding hands?", the question slow as his gaze shot straight down to their loosely joined hands and then back up and then back down.

When had they interlocked?

Solas let out an airy chuckle, his head lulling to the side, eyes picking up from his book to give him a look that said, 'Truly?' before the hand adjoined to his own gave a light squeeze.

"Truthfully, I don't know the answer to that question.", Solas admitted, looking down at their joined hands, too with a small smile. "Perhaps it was merely instinctive. I find myself reaching for you without thinking.", more admittance falling like the freshest rain upon a warm brick.

"Do you now?", Fane teased as he looked back up to gaze into the only sky he would ever know from now until the end. Solas hummed, lifting his head back up, the same small smile still in place.

"I do.", he said without hesitation before something akin to shame flashed into blue and grey, blessed warmth beginning to unravel with his slightly larger appendage. "But I can stop if you--"

Fane shook his head, cutting Solas off. "Don't start with that.", he admonished, pulling the retreating hand back to entwine them tighter together before picking up the next letter in his small pile. "You can hold it for as long as you want, my sky.", he said before shifting his gaze away from slightly wide orbs. "...And you're not the only one who finds themselves reaching out. You beckon for the dragon above to land, and I yearn to draw the sky near. So, don't worry about making me uncomfortable because I'm anything but that."

Heat blazed across his cheeks as the words left his mouth, intensely screwing his eyes on the letter in his free hand, but not retaining any of the words. Damn it all! Why did he always get so flustered?! He was just saying the normal shit he always did! So, why did it--!

"Thank you, my dragon.", the words of gratitude sounding like a literal prayer as the voice that uttered them dropped to a reverent whisper, the hand around his reinforcing its grip around his own like molten silverite. "Thank you.."

Fane huffed out an amused breath of air, giving his molten encasing a reciprocating squeeze, further solidifying the bond between them.

"No, thank you. For everything."

****

The Emprise du Lion was cold, that much was a given, but wasn't so bad for Fane. Two layers of fur was more than enough to keep him comfortably warm. Anymore than that and he would melt, his inner core still inherently the same as the one he had possessed as a dragon.

However, others were far less fortunate. Namely, a creature, that for all intents and purposes, should have insulated fur of their own.

"Cold?", Fane asked plainly as he meandered his way over to where Solas was sitting on the log by the fire of the Inquisition's latest reclaimed camp, face calm, but a light shudder through strong, but slender shoulders betrayed the true state of his sky.

"Not terribly.", Solas responded easily, but subtly tried to shift his furs around so as not to make Fane aware. Sadly, keen observational skills and a pinpointing nature were his aces in this particular deck of veiled strength.

"You're cold.", Fane stated matter of fact, stretching one long leg over the log to plop down next to his sky, chuckling a bit when a lightly shivering form instinctively leaned into his own, seeking warmth. "How you think you can hide shit from me is a mystery."

Solas chuckled, actively resting his head against one of his fur pauldrons with a quiet, but content sigh. Fane only rolled his eyes, smirking. For an elf that prided himself on keeping a poised and reserved demeanor, he sure did crumble when around him. Though, that was exactly what Fane sought every time he and Solas managed to get some time alone.

"Old habits are hard to kill, ma'isenatha. Ir abelas.", Solas murmured from where he was nestled on his shoulder, the sun setting in sky-like orbs as they shut, blocking out the orange glow from the fire before them. "It is simply more frigid than I expected."

"I imagine for you, it is.", Fane murmured back, rolling his head to the side to rest it against the top of Solas', who let out another, more tired sigh in response. "Tired, too?" It was a foolish question, he knew, but he was trying to use his voice more. Even if to state the obvious.

Solas nodded a bit. "The red lyrium is especially potent here. It makes it hard to concentrate, thus I expend more energy pulling magic through the Veil.", he explained, no longer shivering form coming closer to where their knees were touching. Fane didn't even flinch, the layers of his armor and cloak making his scars blessedly numb.

"Then sleep.", Fane ordered softly, lightly nuzzling his cheek against the mage's head. "I've been asking a lot of you these last two months, so rest. I'll take first watch." He wasn't going to be sleeping anytime soon, anyways. The red lyrium was causing him issues as well. Murmurs in the back of his mind, and echoes of blackness with crimson lights in the distance making it hard to keep his rage in check.

"No, that is unfair on--", Solas began to protest, as per usual, but Fane silenced him with a growl and with a jerk of his arm, fluttering out his cloak to wrap it around his stubborn wolf. The reaction was instantaneous as the mage practically melted into his side with a truly exhausted sigh.

"Go to sleep, you old fool.", Fane said, leaning down a bit to lay a light kiss to a lax temple. "I'm fine. The cold doesn't bother me, and neither does less than two hours of sleep. So, relax and dream." Solas needed the rest more than he did, and he would grant him that.

The mage sighed. "I do wish you would stop calling me that.", the words slurred with approaching sleep, but still held gentle teasing in silk.

Fane shrugged, lightly so as not to jostle Solas too much. "I state what I know.", he said. "And you're old."

"You are older than I.", his sky replied, inching closer and closer to the Fade as his form leaned into him more, the cheek buried in his fur going lax as usually calm breathing slowed even more. Fane smiled a bit at that, bringing his emerald cloak in more to shield his wolf from soft gusts of chilly air.

"Only by about two thousand years. Give or take.", he quipped quietly before laying another soft kiss to Solas' temple. "Now, shut up for once, and sleep. You can glare and raise your eyebrow at me later." Solas only let out a noncommittal hum at his words before Fane saw his face go completely lax, sleep wrapping around a tenacious mind like how his cloak was his physical body.

Fane smile a bit more. "Sleep well, my sky.", he whispered in a voice he only reserved for the one of utmost devotion. "Ar lath ma.", unusual Elvhen rolling from his tongue as he repositioned his head to lightly rest it against the top of Solas' again.

And sadly, he missed the tender smile that rarely graced a stoic face, his words reaching far past the boundaries of the Veil, the Fade, and perhaps, even the Void. The sky would rest in the wings of a dragon. No matter where their mind would take them for their heart, their soul, knew what the mind sometimes did not.

[occasionally-writing]

Read To Me

A/N: Hey guys!!! I apologize that this took so fucking long to come out but here it is! This was requested by an anon and I also got a similar request from @khloris-makara​, so I decided to combine them! I really hope you guys like it and to everyone else who reads it, I hope you like it as well <3

Summary: Mork is on his last year of university and his stress of a deadline for his thesis is high on his mind. Sun notices his boyfriend’s decreasing mood and decides to do everything he can to help Mork relax and take a breather for his own well-being. 

Word Count: 1953

Sun had no idea truly how long Mork has been at it. Ever since his boyfriend had entered the cafe with his bag in hand, throwing it down on the table with an obviously stressed furrowed between his brows, Sun knew that the younger boy was in no mood to be teased today. Not saying anything as he quietly watched his boyfriend throw himself on a chair at a table in the far corner of the cafe, Sun kept his eyes on him in concern through his shift, making sure that Mork wouldn’t overwork himself with whatever he was focusing so hard on. 

Not too long after Mork had sat down, the sun was beginning to set and the familiar hustle and bustle of the cafe started to grow silent, the closing of the day beginning to make the regular customers leave to head home. Letting out a sigh as his shift had just ended and the last person left the cafe, Sun untied his apron and hung it up next to Mork’s on the rack, silently stepping around the counter and heading towards the door to turn the opened sign to closed. Rolling his shoulders back as he could finally relax, Sun placed his hands on his lips and turned his attention to Mork, who was still nose deep in his books, the furrow even deeper in his brows than it was when he first entered.

“Mork? Do you need anything?” Sun asked, rubbing his face when all Mork gave him was a grunt, not exactly answering his question. Letting out a heavy sigh, Sun strolled behind the counter again and began to make a smoothie from the fruit he and Rain had in the small fridge, knowing Mork wasn’t too fond of coffee. Stirring it once it was out of the blender, Sun dipped a straw into it before he made his way towards his tense boyfriend, placing the glass in front of his face. Noticing Sun at last, Mork stared at the drink in confusion until Sun’s hands caressed his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles he could feel under his touch. “You’ve been in this position for a while. Why don’t you stop and get some rest?”

“But...this thesis is due by the end of the week and it’s Wednesday! I need to get this done, P’Sun…” Mork grumbled, his voice low and gravely as it displayed truly how tired he actually was, despite his weak protest. Letting out a hum as he put this into thought, Sun continued to massage his boyfriend’s shoulder, his thumbs pressing softly in gentle circles that had the tension slowly leaving Mork’s shoulders. Leaning back against the chair as his body relaxed against his permission, Mork sighed and laid his head against Sun’s chest, releasing the pencil he had in a tight grip as he stared up at his worried boyfriend. “What if I don’t get this done in time? This is my last year of university and it’s worth a good chunk of my grade…”

“I know...but it’s not going to be good if you don’t take a break. Your words are going to jumble and you’ll trail from the main point you’re supposed to be making. Trust me, dear, I did the same thing as you did while I was in university and I didn’t realize my mistake until Rain distracted me from my studies,” Sun whispered, keeping his voice soft to make sure Mork knew he wasn’t arguing or nagging him. Moving his gaze away from Sun’s loving gaze, Mork stared down at the work he already completed and noticed that Sun was right, his handwriting was almost illegible. Cracking his knuckles as the ache in his hands made him more aware of how long he was working, Mork swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, leaning back against Sun again as his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, a kiss being placed against the back of his head. “Come on. Let me run you a nice cool bath while you clean this stuff up. Sounds like a plan?”

Biting back a yawn at the thought of being able to relax and get out of his current hunched position, Mork nodded and allowed Sun to help him out of the chair he sat for who knows how long. Lacing their fingers together softly, Sun pressed a kiss to the back of Mork’s before he let go, offering a smile as he moved to head up the stairs to the apartment above. Watching him leave, Mork didn’t look away from his boyfriend’s retreating form until he could no longer see him, his attention moving back to the papers he had scattered on the tiny round table. Knowing that he would have to fix most of the mistakes he had made, Mork couldn’t help the scowl that turned his lips down. Sluggishly gathering all the papers up and putting them in their respective folders, Mork shoved everything back in his bag and tossed it over his shoulder, stretching lightly as everything in him cracked, showing its displeasure with being trapped in the same position for what was most likely hours. 

Slipping up the stairs as he turned off most of the lights for the cafe, Mork toed off his shoes and lined them up next to Sun and Rain’s, knowing how his boyfriend was with being neat and having everything in its place. Hearing the water running in the bathroom, Mork couldn’t help the shy smile that lit up his face as he turned away from it for a moment, heading towards Sun’s room so he could put his bag away, knowing his boyfriend wouldn’t mind it if he placed it on the loveseat he had by the window. Feeling his body relax further as he stepped into Sun’s room, the scent of his boyfriend literally everywhere, Mork tossed the bag on the loveseat and quickly moved out, not wanting to keep Sun waiting since he heard the bath running for him. 

“P’?” Mork mumbled as he knocked on the door, opening it just slightly so he could peek into the bathroom. Noticing Sun right away, Mork stepped further in and closed the door behind him, deciding to sit on the toilet seat as he got the gentle smile from his boyfriend. Making sure the water was the right temperature, Sun nodded and stood back up from where crouched and wiped his damp hands off on his jeans. Letting out his hand for Mork to take, Sun carefully pulled him up and wrapped his arms around his waist, keeping Mork close enough to where their chests were touching. Feeling a wave of shyness making his cheeks warm, Mork swallowed back a protest and allowed Sun to hold him. “P’Sun, can I get in the bath now?”

“Oh...right, sorry. Go right ahead and just throw your clothes in the hamper. I need to do the laundry tomorrow anyways. I’ll go get some clothes for you to borrow,” Sun whispered, pressing a kiss to Mork’s flushed cheek as he let him go, playfully slapping his butt as he stepped out of the bathroom, a cheeky grin on his face when Mork gasped and turned to give him a playful glare. Watching the door close behind his boyfriend, Mork sighed and did as Sun had said, removing his clothes and tossing them into the hamper, not waiting long as he let his body sink in the lukewarm water. Leaning back against the tub, Mork felt his body losing all the tension he kept throughout the day and closed his eyes, not moving until he heard the slight knock on the door. “I brought you some clothes. I’m going to be in my room if you wanna join me when you get out, okay?”

Humming in return as Sun placed the clothes on the sink, Mork let his eyes slip shut again as Sun stalked over and brushed his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp until the touch disappeared and the bathroom door was opened and closed once again. Letting himself soak until the warmth of the water disappeared to a cooler temperature that made goosebumps rise on his arms, Mork huffed but slowly sat up, pushing the plug to let the water drain as he stood up, carefully stepping out on the rugs Sun always had down so no one would slip and crack their heads open. Blinking slightly when he noticed two towels on the toilet, Mork couldn’t help the grin that made his lips twitch up when he realized that Sun must’ve put them down for him when he dropped off the clothes. Wrapping the towels around himself, Mork sluggishly dried off, slipping on a pair of shorts and a muscle tee that he knew belonged to his boyfriend, the scent of his cologne woven deep into the fabric from how much Sun had worn it. 

Stepping out of the bathroom with a yawn once he was dry and his hair was slightly damp, Mork slowly made his way towards Sun’s room, pausing to glance at Rain’s closed door before he continued his pace towards his boyfriend’s bedroom. Gently rapping his knuckles against the door, Mork quietly let himself in and came face to face with his boyfriend, who was sitting on his bed with the one lamp on his bedside table on, bathing the room in just enough soft orange light for him to see the words on the pages. Glancing up from his book, Sun gave him a small smile and patted the spot next to him softly. Finding he didn’t have the energy to react like he usually would, Mork agreed and crawled onto the bed, squirming up to Sun as he laid his head on his boyfriend’s chest, letting one arm drape itself across Sun’s waist. Keeping one hand on the spine of the book, Sun threaded his free hand through Mork’s hair, drawing him closer until they were meshed together.

“You can sleep if you want. I’m going to stay up a little longer to read more,” Sun whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Mork’s forehead, making a small sound slip from his lips that caused Sun to chuckle. Huffing slightly with a pout on his lips, Mork buried himself deeper into Sun and sighed, relaxing fully for the first time today. Continuing to rub his fingers through Mork’s hair, Sun kept his eyes on his adorable boyfriend for a moment longer before he finally let his gaze drift back to his book, beginning to read again. Observing him quietly as his eyes began to flutter shut, sleep wanting to drag him into unconsciousness, Mork whispered something that made a smile rise on Sun’s face. “You want me to read out loud? Okay…”

Taking in a deep breath as Sun relented and began to read, his voice steady and hushed in the semi-dark room, Mork struggled to keep his eyes open as he listened. Getting into another chapter in no time, Sun paused when he felt Mork’s body grow lax against his, his eyes leaving the book to take in his boyfriend, who had finally passed out and was holding onto him tightly like he was afraid Sun would disappear if he didn’t hold him close. Letting out a fond sigh, Sun held Mork tighter against him and smiled, nuzzling his nose in his hair for just a second before he gave his attention back to the book, keeping up with reading out loud very softly as he remained unaware of the soft smile that was resting on Mork’s face as he snuggled closer, burying his face into Sun’s chest as he slept.

[stonedgilbert]

do you have a meta post about why jeremy has no relationship with elena and what lead to having no contact? if not, would you like to share now? i'm very interested in what you have to say! (especially considering i wholeheartedly believe jeremy has every right to hate her)

why THANK YOU FOR ASKING NONNIE! i don’t know if i’ve ever formally written out something fully, but i’ve definitely done mini-metas here and there that sort of point out SOME of the reasons he has no relationship with her - but, in reality, it’s a combination of a lot of reasons, both canon from the show and things i’ve come up with on my own. so... here we go.

ONE : the lack of pictures of jeremy in the gilbert household. this is something i’ve expanded on in a few ways, but really - it’s canon. if you actually pay attention, in the show, you see pictures of miranda and grayson, of elena, but... the ONLY picture you ever see of jeremy is a picture that elena has on her bedroom mirror. point blank, you never see anything else of him/his childhood in the household. now, i’ve sort of created this headcanon that, as miranda would have fallen pregnant with jeremy when elena was only a few months old (as i believe? that she is supposed to be sixteen at the beginning of season one, and jeremy is 14 in the first few episodes, and has turned 15 by the time 1x05 comes around - the closest i can get to an estimate, considering his birthday is october 13th, and 1x05 is the halloween episode, which mind you, i will never NOT be mad about the fact that even though he Has a canon birthday, his birthday is never actually celebrated on the show), they had sort of taken this effort, given their children were so close in age, and elena was adopted, that they made this... effort to make sure that elena would never feel second best, like less than because she was adopted, but within that effort (and because miranda most definitely had a closer relationship with elena, with that mother/daughter relationship), jeremy sort of... fell through the cracks. combined with my own headcanon that jeremy has a few learning disabilities that makes/made school incredibly hard for him, and the MAJORITY of his “quality time” with his parents was them helping him with him homework (which he hated, because he hated school), inevitably getting frustrated in that very “smart white wealthy suburban family doesn’t understand learning disabilities when it’s in their own child, even if they’re supportive of it in other kids” way, and then simply giving him the answers because it’s late and they’re tired and there’s just not enough time in the day to hold his hand through all of that work, thank you very much. (i also headcanon that miranda had been looking into getting him formally diagnosed before the gilbert parents died, but unfortunately it never happened, and he doesn’t actually discover he has a legitimate disability until denver) and then, he is never actually shown as having ANY friends before the accident. we are thrust into him being in with the stoner crowd, but that he only became involved with them because of his parents’ death, so... where are the friends? it’s my own particular headcanon that he was simply so bad at school, that doing his homework took so much time out of his day, that there just WASN’T enough time in the day to form legitimate friendships with anyone, so when they died, he sort of just... stopped doing homework. withdrew, and then had nobody, which is how he ended up with the stoners. but, all of those things combined, jeremy felt incredibly INFERIOR when it came to elena. the rest of the town heard “gilbert child” and IMMEDIATELY thought of elena. jeremy wasn’t much else other than the “other gilbert”. second fiddle. an afterthought. so in a lot of ways, he resents her because of that. it’s not HATRED... it doesn’t turn into hatred until you combine it with everything else, which brings me to...

TWO : jeremy was fourteen when the gilbert parents died. it is, arguably, old enough to be left home alone for an hour or so while they go pick up elena from a party she’s not supposed to be at. but that doesn’t change the fact that the both of them didn’t NEED to go. but they chose to, because (in jeremy’s mind) their first thought was always elena, and he was an afterthought. because they are not alive to say otherwise, there is a part of his mind that firmly believes that when they got the call from her, they didn’t even stop to think that he was (probably) in bed/asleep, and they would be leaving him alone. so he wholeheartedly blames her for their parents dying - both for going to the party in the first place, and for being so much of the ‘golden child’ that both miranda and grayson left without a second thought, when really, only one of them needed to go. to this day, jeremy has a certain degree of PTSD from that night, where if someone knocks on the door without him knowing that they’re going to be knocking (so, he needs someone to text him like ‘almost there’ so he can prepare), he is IMMEDIATELY thrown into a flashback of that night, of being woken up by the police knocking on the door and telling him that there’d been an accident, that he needed to go to the hospital, where he had to sit and wait for jenna to show up, which, since she was away at college, i also envision took at least a couple of hours. a couple of hours of him being completely alone, all because of elena (at least, that’s what he sees).

THREE : the memory tampering. after he discovers what she had damon do, he gets incredibly angry, and resents her for it. because the pain of vicki never went away (which, i headcanon for different reasons than the show gave, but still valid nonetheless), he really just saw it as a control tactic. she wasn’t helping him, because he still hurt, he still felt empty. and all of these things coming together, given that jeremy is still very young (this all happens in season 1, mind you), and not fully emotionally developed, so all of this pent up rage just builds inside of him, and it gets focused on the only thing he can find to focus it on - her. he doesn’t have a healthy outlet for it, so he attacks her, because it’s the only way he can find relief for what he’s going through. hating elena is easier than anything else, really.

FOUR : also, please note that if you pay attention in the show, there are MULTIPLE TIMES where they end the episode with jeremy angry at elena, and rightfully so, but because the the writers didn’t care about him, in the next episode, they’re back to normal (or whatever is normal for them at the time, at least), without elena ever saying she’s sorry or apologizing in a meaningful way, because 99% of her on-screen apologies to him are “i’m sorry you think that” and not actually owning up to what it is that she does. so, basically, when it comes to my jeremy - HE DOESN’T IGNORE WHAT SHE DOES. it’s why i’m a strong proponent of ‘if i write with an elena and she actually apologizes, jeremy is willing to have a marginally better relationship with her’, because... she just. never actually apologizes.

FIVE : then she drags him into the mess. and he hates her, for all the reasons i listed before this. and he’s just so angry that he firmly just “i do not believe your life is worth the trouble we are all going through for this”. ESPECIALLY when more people die on her account. his mindset at that point is just “just kill her and get it over with” because he is quite literally watching people around them die, time and time again, for her. he dies HIMSELF a few times, despite the fact that he certainly never wanted to, not for elena.

SIX : and then she sends him away. and he doesn’t hate her for that. his life is actually pretty good in denver - but he DOES hate her for bringing him back after sending him away, because they’re inconvenienced and need his ability to see ghosts, and he hates her because she literally takes away possibly the only chance he has at a normal life, a chance for him to actually get real help with his learning disabilities so he can get an education, and he just... doesn’t have a choice in the matter. she and damon show up like “okay time to come back” and he gets no. say. and when he’s back in mystic falls, that support for learning is no longer an option because everything is so hectic there, around them, so he... loses that. he loses his chance at a future, away from mystic falls, to be a normal man.

SEVEN : then they quite literally force him to become a hunter. he starts seeing the tattoo, literally out of nowhere, he can’t explain it, and they go “great so you need to kill more vampires so we can get the cure for your sister”. he never WANTED to be a hunter. there is literally a scene where they essentially force-trigger the hunter in him so he will kill a vampire to further progress his own tattoo, so they can use him as a map. and then there’s the fact that them FORCING him to do this leads to his death. and not even his first death, just one of the literally many deaths he’s gone through. something he NEVER WANTED TO DO, gets him killed. it just further fractures their relationship, and at that point, it’s basically beyond repair for me. BUT I STILL HAVE MORE DON’T WORRY.

EIGHT : then i do write him as having a bit of an affinity for kai, regardless of relationship status. in the end, it doesn’t actually matter if he’s dating kai or not, he just... develops this entrancement, attraction to him that draws him in and makes him pick kai over mystic falls and everyone in it - mostly because of how broken his relationship with elena already is, but i have also written a full meta on why jeremy is so protective of kai, and can see things in him that a lot of people ignore, mostly stemming from the idea of that just what jeremy went through growing up made him hate his sister, but after finding out how kai’s father treated him? there is a large part of jeremy that believes if he’d been put in the same situation, he would have turned out exactly like kai. and then ... kai dies. because of elena, really, but at that point, it really has nothing to do with elena. all jeremy knows is that the one person he truly cared about, the one person he felt that he had (regardless of how kai felt about him in return, and whether or not he was just manipulating him, or whatever) is gone. and he... breaks. he’s an adult at that point, and he crumbles, he’s angry, and i headcanon that the mystic falls gang had to hide elena’s magic-coma body not only from vampires who might want the cure that she has in her veins, but because of the fact that jeremy is actively hunting her, trying to find her so he can kill her, both as revenge on damon for taking away the one person he cared about (very ‘an eye for an eye’), and because he feels he has nothing left to live for, so if he dies in the pursuit, he’s okay with that. there’s even a part of him that believes he might get to see kai again if he dies, even.

NINE : this is the final Big Reason, and it’s sort of subjective. what makes jeremy FINALLY cut off all contact with elena, to the point of not even really telling his daughter that she has an aunt (cali literally thinks that she and jeremy are the only gilberts left in the world), is elena marrying damon. granted, some elena’s don’t take it into account, and it doesn’t even really make a difference overall in the relationship if they don’t get married, because jeremy’s already too lost in his hatred to ever have a real relationship with her again. but the way he sees it, it’s... damon killed him. and yes, later on, they become sort of friends. but because jeremy already hates elena so much, when she gets engaged, he sort of just sees it as a slap in the face. a sort of... “yes, i forgave him, but it was ME who he killed, you have NO RIGHT to forgive him for it. i am the only one who can do that”. and he sees it very much on her part as this idea of “my brother’s life doesn’t matter as long as i get what i want.” whether that’s true or not, it doesn’t matter, because that’s what he truly believes. granted, it’s only been cemented in his mind considering he has died multiple times for “her cause”, even when he specifically did not want to. he genuinely believes that, at that point, elena sees him as a means to an end, and not as a brother. again - WHETHER IT’S ACTUALLY TRUE OR NOT DOES NOT MATTER. what matters is that that is how he perceives it.

so uh. yeah. that’s why jeremy hates her and has no relationship with her. MIND YOU, i probably forgot something bc i didn’t actually sleep last night and i’m tired and this is super long, but AT THE VERY LEAST, these are the important bits.

[notgonnarememberthis]

Confessions

Hey y’all! This idea came to me a few days ago when binge watching a youtube series about female killers (The youtube channel is literally “Female Killers” if you wanna check it out). The case is actually a combination of two of the videos and the names of the actual women I don’t remember at all. This is set a year after the season 6 finale so they’re back in New York once more as Doherty has been teasing since the finale. One more thing that is also based on real life is the Massachusetts gas explosions which actually happened in Boston last month.

Anyways I missed writing my babies and had to get back to them at least once before exam season hits me like a truck. So enjoy this little oneshot!

Ringing in Joan’s ears pierces the darkness forcing her back into consciousness. Her vision is foggy as she opens her eyes to a distorted world. Fire dances up wallpaper and curtains spreading ash and smoke in its wake. She blinks once, twice trying to get her mind to connect previous events to how she got here.

She and Marcus split from Sherlock to investigate a suspect in the killing of a local millionaire. They were looking into the mistress but the sister said she wasn’t home. The girl allowed them entry anyways before dismissing herself. She heard Marcus shout and then nothing. Her eyes widen with realization.

It was a trap. There was a bomb in the back room and it’d gone off before she could get out. She tries to sit up but a piece of a support beam weighs heavily across her stomach. Pain blossoms in her ribs as she tries to free herself knocking the breath out of her. She leans her head back trying to find anything in her reach that could help.

“Joan!” The shout of her name just barely cuts through the crackling of the fire around her. Marcus made it out. That’s good.

“In here!” She shouts back much to her body’s protest. The door crashes in as Marcus appears. His eyes widen as he finds her stuck.

“Shit.” He mutters, moving quickly to lift and throw the beam off of her. “It’s okay. I got you.” She takes in his form noting that he had a few scratches but looked relatively unharmed. He must’ve gotten out the back door before the explosion went off. “Paramedics are on their way.” He lifts her without hesitation carrying her out of the building.

Her head feels heavy again as they step out into the cloudy daylight. Her entire chest burns with the exertion of simply breathing and she wants nothing more than to sleep.

“Hey.” Marcus calls to her shaking her gently as he sets her on the damp grass. “No sleeping, they’re almost here.”

“Sherlock,” She coughs aggravating her ribs once again.

“I called the captain they’re meeting us at the hospital.” He looks up as sirens draw closer, waving on the paramedics as they pile out of the ambulance.

Vaguely she feels herself being lifted onto a gurney with Marcus in toe. One of the men secure an oxygen mask on her face and that’s the last thing she remembers before everything fades away once again.

The next time she wakes is to Sherlock’s voice and bouncing legs next to her hospital bed. She feels the weight of his hand holding hers. She squeezes his hand lightly pulling his mind from whatever depths it’d plunged into while she was away.

“Joan,” Just her name steals her breath away again. She can count the number of instances he’d called her Joan on one hand. Whenever he did she knew he was more serious than ever before. “You’re awake.”

“Can’t keep me down for long.” She jokes lightly but it doesn’t break the tension in the air.

“I’ll call for the nurse.” He moves to stand but she doesn’t let his hand go. He looks back at her, his face displaying every emotion at once. So few times is Sherlock so open with her. It takes her back a year ago when he tried to say goodbye and leave for London without her. “Watson…”

“I’m okay.” She whispers.

“You encountered a bomb.”

“So did Marcus.”

“Marcus wasn’t trapped. You were.” His voice is so soft she can barely make out the words. There’s so much held in his tone that’s unspoken. She partially wonders if he’ll ever say what he means aloud. Against every instinct in her body wanting to keep him here, with her, she lets him go. His eyes shine with relief that she understood and he leaves her alone once more.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Growing accustomed to sedentary life is easier said than done for Joan. In the explosion she’d fractured two ribs again as well as a nasty sprain on her ankle. Between the captain, Bell, and Sherlock they were all making sure she was adhering to her doctor’s orders. Admittedly she pushed the boundaries occasionally but most of the time it was to see how much she could get away with before the others intervened. Though such a method put her in the place of a half an hour long lecture from Sherlock for simply carrying a box of case files to the evidence room.

Moments like this she especially loathed as one of the recommendations was less outings with the police. She was to remain off her feet as much as possible for proper healing leaving her studying cold case files while Sherlock and Marcus investigate their latest case. Clyde keeps her company in her terrarium that Sherlock kindly set up within her reach. He munches quietly on his lunch while she studies mindlessly.

“Watson!” Sherlock announces himself as he steps in from the crisp November afternoon. “I bring sustenance.”

“In here.” She calls. He marches in the room placing the bag on the coffee table before peering over her shoulder at her work.

“You’ll be happy to hear that the Dane sisters have been apprehended as of this morning. It is unlikely that either of them will escape a life sentence.” The Dane sisters, as they discovered, were the millionaire’s mistress and her older sisters. They’d conspired together to murder the millionaire as the mistress discovered she was the main benefactor in her lover’s will. His marriage was a bitter one with no children to part his money to. The bomb was set to rid of evidence, carefully disguised as liking to the series of gas explosions that wracked Massachusetts homes earlier this year. Though between her and Sherlock it wasn’t difficult to unearth enough evidence for conviction.

“Good.” She makes her move to stand frowning slightly when Sherlock rushes to her side to support her. She knows he means well but there are just moments where it is a little overwhelming. “At least we have some good news today.”

Sherlock just purses his lips in a tight smile and nods. He bounces on his toes a few times eyes fixing on every part of the room except her. She raises an eyebrow waiting for him to explain the odd behavior. Finally his eyes land on her and as if someone pressed pause, he stills. “I have a confession.”

“Okay?” Amusement pierces her tone as she studies his features. He’s a bundle of nervous energy and it’s a state she hasn’t seen him in in a far too long time.

“A year ago, when Michael attacked you… Had Hannah not have beaten me to it, quite literally might I add. I would have killed Michael Rowan.”

“Don’t say that to anyone else they just let us start working with the NYPD again a month ago.” She teases but she stops her laugh when she sees how deadly serious he is. Against every instinct that screams in her head she grabs his hand squeezing it lightly. “Hey, I’m okay.”

He nods, eyes glued to their hands. When she tries to pull away she finds that he holds her in place, squeezing her hand in return before letting it go. “Yes but you almost weren’t. It’s becoming an occurrence that is far too often for my liking.”

“We’re going to have those days Sherlock. Cases will go wrong sometimes. I seem to remember two months ago you got locked in the back of a suspect’s trunk and got taken to the other side of New York.”

“Yes, I know.” He sighs frustratedly. “I just need to get something off my chest. Something that should one of us die tomorrow I know I said my piece.”

“Sherlock?”

“Joan,” Her name once again holds the strength to knock the air from her lungs. The amount of emotion he can pack into one syllable is remarkable. “The truth is, I’ve never loved anyone as I have you.” He steps closer to her, still minding her space but just enough to make it intimate. A space between them that hasn’t been crossed outside of undercover cases. “It’s true I loved Moriarty. I once said that everyone else pales in comparison to her. It seems I made the same fatal mistake as she. I underestimated you.”

Her fingers reach to him but she stops herself, knowing better than not to interrupt. She doesn’t want to break the fragile glass holding this moment together.

“What I had with her though… Is so different. With Moriarty it was as if I was addicted to her. To her touch, to how she made me feel. It was a rush of adrenaline I could never mimic. Not even with heroin. You, however, sustain. You keep me alive Watson. You are like water in a desert. I never knew I was thirsting until I met you. Until I almost lost you, I took that for granted. No more.”

His confession hangs in the air on a thin thread. One wrong move would send everything crashing and he could retreat. His eyes no longer meet hers, rather he stares down at the space in between them so focused on the swirls in the wood. She can practically see the shame washing over him.

She takes the step forwards putting herself in his view. Her fingers reach for his cheek pulling his eyes up to hers. She searches them for any chance that this may be some sort of trick of any kind. An experiment that he may be using to test her. Truth and vulnerability shine in the blue depths. Her thumb caresses the thin layer of stubble growing in again. The lack of heels draws her attention to the height difference. His hands hover before landing on her waist, fingers spreading across the fabric of her cardigan. She can practically see him logging every detail into his mind.

In the end it’s her that crosses the final line as she leans up brushing her lips against his. His eyes never close still taking in every detail. She grows a little bolder as she feels his grip on her tighten so she presses a little bit firmer gauging his response. Finally tension seeps out of his body and he sinks into her. Her heart thrums so loudly in her ears she wonders momentarily if he can hear it too.

Her breath catches as his hands begin to explore as well. One ventures up her spine settling between her shoulder blades to pull her closer, the other buries in her blonde locks taking in how it feels between his fingers. Her own hands find new places as well, one gripping the front of his shirt and the other the back of his neck, her nails scratching the base of his hairline.

In the heat of the moment she forgets her injuries. She gains more confidence, but as she pushes against him her ribs cry out in protest pulling a whimper from his lips. He immediately pulls away eyes assessing once again. “I’m sorry.” He mutters the apology along with the phrases ‘foolish’ and ‘I forgot’ dispersed between his quiet words.

“I’m okay.” She whispers pressing a faint kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Right.” He leans his forehead against hers, lips stretching into a genuine smile. His eyes sparkle with something she’s never seen before. It sends her heart thumping all over again. They remain like that for a few minutes. They simply linger in each other’s embrace seeking comforts they weren’t allowed just minutes before. She feels his heart pounding against her fingertips just as quick as hers. His nose bumps against hers as if he’s tempted to delve in once again, yet he resists the pull. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold, shall we?”

“I’m starved.” She smiles back giddy with promises anew. “What’d you get?”

“Thai. I know it’s your favorite.”

[braindamageforbeginners]

Neuralgia/ADA/GOP-On-The-Run

Cycle 7, Day 19

First of all, next week’s my “week off,” which is usually just a blood-draw, however, because it also marks Dad’s birthday, which he’s intimated is supposed to be A Party of Special Magnificence, so I’ll be in the greater SoCal area during my “off week,” and, with my brother at hand in a festive mood, there’s a chance I won’t come to my senses until November. So, unless something goes spectacularly wrong at next week’s blood-draw, there’s a chance I’ll only update/write about random goings-on, or Dad’s giant, dragon-shaped firework (that isn’t a euphemism, I’ve been explicit that I want to see wizards, halflings, the whole deal).

Today, however, I’d like to draw some attention to my own physical disabilities (such as they are), why large chunks of the country aren’t ADA-compliant (I don’t even mean in a paved sense), and your very corrupt, local congressman, if you’re from a rural area (almost guaranteed).

So, even though I am automatically, federally-qualified as disabled (look it up under “compassionate allowances”). However, 80% of applicants eventually get disability coverage because - here’s a shocker - when people can’t do their jobs or survive normally, that tends to be noticeable, unless you have an extremely advanced neurodegenerative disease (in which case, you get to be president). And when I applied for disability, no one was, shall I say, directly unpleasant, but I got the very distinct impression that everyone would rather be doing something else. It wasn’t until I actually wrote my own condition down and told the social security rep to call their boss and give them that diagnosis that I got a bit of an attitude change. So, most disabled folks tend to be somewhat sensitive about it, because it is a pain in the ass (sometimes literally) and society is very much stacked against us. I actually wouldn’t even have given it much thought unless I had to fill out and file paperwork on it. Again, be kind and patient (that’s the general message), and don’t assume. I prefer to be called “crippled,” because I feel that word accurately captures both what happened to me, and and how it’s effected me.

To that, I also get passing privilege, because I can walk (though steep stairs and long sprints are out), and you’d only tell my left side is off if you were familiar with me. So, a neurologically-mangling injury usually occurs in one of two ways, externally (or externally-derived), which is usually what you associate with disabled vets, or internally (either due to clot, stroke, or cancer/tumor).. In the former type, you’d see nerve damage below the injury point. In the latter type, it’s a little harder. Everything in the brain is integrated - physically -  it’s a little harder to keep track of the higher-order, Wile E. Coyote (Super Genius) functions, especially since you develop new neural pathways throughout your life. But, just for the physical functions, damage to the brain occurs on the opposite side of the body, and it’s a half-body thing (most of my left-side is unreliable in the right circumstances, but for day-to-day use, it’s just the lower leg and lower arm). And these can be anything from noticeable motor impairments to, in my case, “diminished sensation.” Again, I’m just speaking for myself, but neuralgia - the reduced/lost sensations and/or pain of nerve damage - is a killer for folks like me. In my own case, if you’ve ever had minor oral surgery or a filling where the dentist got a little careless injecting the novocaine, you’ll be familiar with the numbness issue. Your muscles worked just fine, but without sensation, it’s hard to orient them enough to get them to work. That’s a rather extreme example, and it’s not terribly accurate for me, but it’ll give you an idea of what I’m talking about. Again, unless you know me, it’s kind of hard to spot me (I only hobble on inclines). Unless you knew I’d been trained as a pianist for a number of years when I was much younger, you’d have a tough time guessing my left hand has trouble with buttons. And, fortunately, the legal definition of disabilities isn’t limited to “patient is mostly-functional, but severely reduced by previous-standards.” (I also really do spend an hour or two in the gym every day, if only because I want a body capable of absorbing and metabolizing every last damned drop of marizomib they can pump into me)(which, come to it, is probably some sort of admission of addiction). I am, however, going to start referring to my left arm as “my Grendel arm,” because, if I’m attacked by Vikings, I intend to let that side take the damage (again, it won’t be as painful because of that “reduced sensation” problem I run into when I’m very tired)(and, hopefully, when I’m on fire and being attacked by Norsemen seeking retribution for

Speaking of legal issues, now’s a good time as any to point out that vast swathes of the country are near-impossible to live in if you’re, let’s say, medically-compromised. Now, I realize that I’m a very special, special-needs patient/citizen in that my existence is dependent on technology that’s beyond the ragged, bleeding edge of most hospitals - most states, as it turns out. But that’s going to be true of just being able to access decent care in most places, even for something relatively simple, like the heart disease currently building up in the Boomers. And I bring that up because, in most places, your elected federal officials are actually working against your best interest. Frequently with your consent. And these are, in my experience, always in rural districts. The party of your representative isn’t an issue, I’d bet; the issue is whether you live in a zip code with a population density closer to Los Angeles, or Maine. Americans (or, health-industry lobbyists) made a hullabaloo about Obamacare (or, as it’s formally known, the Affordable Care Act - the ACA). However, for people like me, it did help knock down things that will kill Grandma and Granpa, like lifetime limits (I’ve reached and exceeded those probably ten years ago), and - this is big - prior conditions. These are both weasel terms used by insurance companies to reduce patient numbers. Again that wasn’t a major issue for me until an orange-haired idiot came into office, promising to change all that. At the time - these were in the intertumor years - I was living in Utah. Here’s an important thing to understand when someone is actively working to undermine your life expectancy; they’re not going to be honest about it. And, in my experience, elected officials from rural areas tend to have more in common with Boss Hogg than they do Mr. Smith, but that could be because the first Congressman I met “representing” me was Jerry Lewis (that was his nom de guerre)(but not his real name)(also not his real hair), who was almost hilariously sleazy, and consistently plagued by corruption accusations. Which, uh, I think, describes almost all of the Congressmen who represented that district. So, you can imagine my complete lack of interest at being pushed and prodded and shoved in front of a congressional underling at the sitting Congressman’s office (this was Chris Stewart - or his local office, BTW).

We will ignore the odd decorating decision to include a large photo of a bomber with an explosion on it - I guess it’d been made by a constituent. We were met by - as expected - an office underling. The hiring and firing and promoting of office staff in small districts is usually pretty sordid. That’s not some sort of slanderous accusation; all professional politicians are legally prohibited from directly employing their companies or family members. Most, like Ron Paul, figure out a workaround until those pesky Congressional Ethics reports come out. The assistant in front of us assured us - in the wake of GOP populism that’d swung in just a few weeks earlier, that the Congressman didn’t like his job, only did it because no one else was stepping up, and was all in favor of term limits and revolving door policies - basically, the sort of pep-talk I always look for in the medical industry when looking for a well-qualified specialist (”Yeah, he’s great at his job, but he dislikes it and is only waiting for an opportunity to get out.”). The assistant was not the Congressman’s chief adviser on health care (I can only assume that was some wildly unqualified lobbyist from Pfizer, but that’s pure speculation). You know what really sends out a message of professionalism and receptiveness to constituent needs? When a constituent calls to schedule an appointment to voice concerns regarding health legislation, and the person qualified to answer such things isn’t in the office. Anyway, even though the assistant didn’t have any answers to most of my questions, he assured us that the congressman didn’t want to cut anyone’s insurance, but thought that a free market - the standard BS filler that comes from someone who has never been thrown out of a hospital (yes, this happens, folks, it made headlines in Baltimore a few years ago). Upon later checking, the assistant had actually actively lied about both issues, based on the Congressman’s actual voting record. Again, I don’t think he’s alone, I just think rural Congressman who coast on for a career based on name recognition aren’t used to an informed, angry public making proper inquiries. At least have the guts to tell me it’s more immediately profitable to kill me than to keep me alive; we’ll have to agree to disagree, but I get it. To make a long story short, because of Utah’s combination of hilariously inadequate insurance coverage for people like me, and my stubborn refusal to settle for less-than-best when seeing neurology specialists, I’m no longer a constituent. Thank you, sir, you ran me off your land, kudos. But I’m certainly not alone. Again, the Boomers are at an age where they’re going to be dropping dead of heart disease, cancer, etc. That’s not some dire, emo warning, either, it’s just that they’re all in their 60′s or above, and, until 2013, almost half of the US was either uninsured or disastrously uninsured. I think the HMO system will last two dozen cases of wheeling grandma and grandpa into the cold street before it comes to an end. But what the hell do I know? I’m just a sick person who’s had to learn insane amounts.about the health insurance industry and pharmaceutical companies to make it this far.

[remotecontrolchuck]

Super Late Toonami Night Review: The COUNTDOWN continues!

So after a week of technical difficulties of my computer literally falling apart, and moving everything I have to my new laptop, I’m finally able to work on my weekly Toonami review for, well, last week. With that said, onto the review!

Last week we continued with the COUNTDOWN event, where we learn that TOM has been sent into the not so distant future, where after the Vindication goes through a bizarre nebula, SARA goes all Terminator and begins gearing the clydes for war against all organics. With help from future TOM, present TOM sets out to go back to the past, and prevent doomsday from happening.

Aside from the COUNTDOWN event, not much else occurred last week besides new episodes and old reruns we all enjoyed. Next week is going to be the DBZ Kai marathon for Thanksgiving weekend, though hardly fitting compared to Dragon Ball Super, which has a tournament started because of food in the first place. That, or Lupin the Third, because of the great food they’ve been showing on that show. Could go for some Italian right about now.

And speaking of Lupin the Third Part IV: the Italian Adveture, can’t believe we’re down to seven episodes left this season. It feels like only was only a few months instead of six that this show started, and man has it been a blast! While I’ll save my review for Lupin the Third when it finishes its run, I will say that so far it’s one of the best anime to come to the block yet, and I’ll miss it when it’s gone.

Anyway, back to the DBZ Kai being the marathon for Thanksgiving weekend, I feel it’s not that great of a choice. I mean honestly do I really need to feel like I’m eating soylent green when Majin Buu is turning people into candy before eating them, or into milk before giving them to formerly blind children for that matter? I’d rather have a food fight or be shown extravagant food than see that.

Moving on, last but not least, it’s been recently announced that the block’s run will be expanding yet again on December 2nd! If this keeps up, the old 6 Hour Challenge will be back! As for the reason for the reason expansion, a new show will be coming to Toonami, Black Clover. It’s a new series I’ve been hearing about here and there, with some people either liking it or hating it. Since I don’t know really much about it, I’ll watch this series and see for myself whether I’ll like it or not.

Now that I’m done with the news segment, it’s onto the recap of last week’s shows!

Dragon Ball Super: Despite their massive power, both Goku and Hit appear to be evenly matched. However, Goku throws in the towel after Beerus and Chompa get into another arguement. Naturally Chompa is thrilled, and Beerus is pissed. With their last fighter being Monaka, it appears Universe 7 is doom to lose... at least it would been so if not for Hit.

Seeing how weak Monaka really was, Hit decided to take pity on the little guy, and made it look he was taking out by him with one punch, declaring that he and Goku were now even. Naturally everyone is shocked by the sudden turn of events, Beerus being the most surprised as he didn’t expect to suddenly win the tournament.

Of course being a sore loser, Chompa began having a meltdown and began threatening to kill his failed champions. However, both he and Beerus are left shocked and speechless when all of a sudden a strange little fella showed on the arena floor with two purple-clad guards. And if the Destroyers are scared out of their minds, this obviously isn’t good news.

DBZ Kai: After another round of mindless massacre and rampage, Majin Buu is finally taken on by the combined form of Goten and Trunks, Gotenks. But when said combined form has an overconfident ego, the jolly bubblegum goon has no trouble trouncing the two. Fortunately the two managed to escape, the same can’t be said for the Earth military that tried to take on Buu, and ended like the previous ones that went up against Nappa and Cell.

So with their military basically annihilated once again, the people call upon their champion, Mr. Satan, to take care of the unstoppable menace. But despite his ego and dirty tricks, the “brave” fighter ends having no chance against Buu. Fortunately for him, the pink blob thinks he’s pretty funny and keeps him around as a servant, leaving Mr. Satan plenty of time to figure out how to save his image.

Stardust Crusaders: After sending Anne back to Hong Kong, JoJo and the gang head off into Pakistan to continue their journey. But they’re soon delayed by heavy and treacherous passes, forcing them to stop at local village, filled with creepy people and a recently deceased body in the middle.

Reader: Ooh, that’s bad.

But JoJo and the others are soon greeted by a nice old lady who invites them to her hotel.

Reader: That’s good!

The old hag is actually DIO’s servant Enyaba, who wants revenge for the death of her son.

Reader: That’s bad.

But JoJo begins having suspicions about Enyaba.

Reader: That’s good!

He and the others still go into the hotel anyway.

Reader: That’s bad.

Later, Hol Horse shows up at said hotel and we’re introduced to Enyaba’s Stand, Justice, who takes cares of her son’s former partner in crime.

Reader:...

That’s good and bad.

Reader: Can we move on now?

Gundam IBO: At Tekkadan’s Earth Branch, Chad and the others are attending the inauguration of the Arbrau Defense Force (ADF). However, things take a turn for the worse when a bomb goes off, taking out and heavily injuring both Chad and Prime Minister Makanai. Turns out the Teiwaz accountant sent to work for the Earth branch, Radice, had sold them out to Rustal’s mercenary, Galan Mossa, who planted the bomb to start a war between Arbrau and the S.A.U.

Takaki, who’s now in charge, has to somehow keep everyone in line. And to make things worse, Takaki is unable to contact Orga, as he’s being prevented by Radice, because again the guy is a backstabbing dick that’s working for Galan Mossa. And speaking of Mossa, the merc soon becomes the commander of the ADF, and McGillis is soon contacted by the S.A.U. lead their forces against Arbrau.

Soon enough, Takaki and the Tekkadan Earth Branch is forced to work with Mossa and the ADF, and fight against McGillis leading the S.A.U. forces in the upcoming war. Meanwhile, Orga gets word of recent events on Earth, and decides to head there himself to oversee the Earth Branch. He orders Mikazuki, Eugene, and Akihiro to come with him, and Kudelia joins them in order to check on her mentor Mr. Makanai.

Hunter x Hunter: Taking on the Bomb Devils (who I’ve realized I’ve been calling Mad Bombers by mistake for the last month or so), Gon goes up against Genthru, while Killua and Bisky take on the latter’s two goons elsewhere using their spell cards.

At Soufrabi, Bisky reveals her true muscular form that makes he look like a JoJo character, and promptly beats the shit out of Bara. At Masadora, Killua takes out Sub with his incredibly heavy yo-yo, using a new electrifying technique that proves to be shockingly effective.

Lupin the Third: Someone begins painting pictures of those involved in the Italian Dream affair all over Italy, leading Lupin and everyone else to the Santa Maria delle Grazie, where someone has prepared an elaborate dinner in front of the mural of da Vinci’s “The Last Supper”. During this meal, where each course is a clue to the artist’s identity, Lupin eventually figures out who it is.

Lupin reveals that the artist and their mysterious host is none other than Leonardo da Vinci himself, having been resurrected by MI6 using Wataru’s notes on the Italian Dream, a collective consciousness inside the mind of every person on Earth where all mankind's knowledge is housed.

Naturally Lupin is right, and Gibbons summons his agent to kill everyone that now knows, forcing everyone to flee the scene. While running from MI6, Lupin stumbles across Leonardo himself, who manages to escape in a hovercraft/flying machine. But before taking into the night sky, he tells Lupin that he plans on changing the world soon.

Naruto Shippuden: While down about Lady Tsunade in a coma, Naruto and Sakura are given a nice surprise when they encounter Tazuna and Inari, having been hired to help rebuild the town. They then catch up and remember the old days, specifically when after Team 7 completed their first mission, how Naruto inspired Inari and helped him and his village fend off Gato’s remaining goons.

Outlaw Star: After picking up their new crew member, Aisha Clan-Clan, who had tried to kill them earlier, Gene and the gang continue on in the great space race. However, after a dirty tricked pulled by Harry MacDougall, the Outlaw Star gets lost in subspace for bit.

Fortunately, Gene pulls a daring move by piloting the Outlaw Star through an Aether Stream, which helps them get to the finish line. While they unfortunately make it in fourth place, they do make into first place on the Privateer class, breaking it even with their sponsor Fred.

Cowboy Bebop: We are introduce to Radical Ed, a young female hacker, who helps the Bebop crew track down the one responsible for causing satellites to fire laser into planet Earth, and carving strange drawings on its surface. She soon reveals that the culprit is actually an old A.I., who she calls “MPU”.

Apparently MPU had been feeling really lonely, and was trying to recreate the Nazca Lines that were destroyed during the Gate Incident fifty years ago, when it was just a spy satellite that would pass over it often. While guiding Spike and the others on how to get to MPU’s satellite through the lasers, Ed helps the A.I. make a copy of itself, before transferring itself to Ed’s computer.

That way MPU can avoid being sent the police, and be with Ed and her friends and no longer be lonely. Ed’s plan goes off without a hitch, but unfortunately for Spike and the others they can’t collect a bounty on MPU, due to it being an A.I. and not an actual person. Shortly after, Ed joins the Bebop crew, after forcing them to take her with them after remotely taking control of their ship.

GitS: SAC 2nd GIG: In order to obtain evidence of money laundering by a sleazy businessman with a fetish for prosthetic dolls/androids, Section 9 pulls off a fake heist in order to get them inside the vault. With the Major Kusanagi playing the thief, as well as clever misdirection and camera editing, the rest of Section 9 who are providing security manage to get inside the vault and find the evidence they need to arrest the millionaire.

That’s it for the recap, as well as this review! This week’s run of Toonami is about to start soon, so expect another review shortly after it. So see you guys in a bit for the Toonami live blog and Stay Gold!

Quick Update: I just found out that the Japanese voice actress for Bulma, Hiromi Tsuru, had recently passed away. There’s no words to describe this sad loss, she will be dearly missed. RIP and Stay Gold.

[peopleandrhythm]

Episode Twelve: I Might Seem So Strong

Vincent and Hope sit side-by-side in the third pew from the front, the church yawning wide around them. Hope’s eyes are trained on the statue of the Virgin Mary at the back of the altar. Hope’s never been overly religious, but at this particular moment, she feels an odd sort of kinship to the woman who got more than she ever bargained for.

It’s been a while since either of them have spoken. Vincent’s taken some time to process the story that Hope just relayed to him. He places his palms on his thighs and stretches his fingers out. “Who knows?” His voice is quiet, but the echo in the empty church is still jarring.

“No one.” Who the hell would she tell?

“Alright. Alright, it’s gonna stay that way.”

Hope’s head snaps to stare at Vincent. “What do you mean? Shouldn’t—I mean, my parents—”

Vincent lets out a low hum of disapproval. “Your daddy cannot find out about this until we are sure we know what’s goin’ on.”

“Why?”

Side-eying her, the regent says, “Because he’d burn this place to the ground.”

Hope opens her mouth to argue, but then closes it again. He’s not wrong. So instead she says, “Well what are we going to do? Because I can’t be the…the…”

“The Advocate.”

She doesn’t even want to say it. “Right. See, I can’t do that. I have enough family members to deal with without tacking on generations of dead witches.”

“See it don’t work like that.”

“How do you know that?” Hope stands up and begins pacing between the pews. “How do you know I couldn’t just…I don’t know, give this power or ability or whatever to someone else? To Theo? She seems to want it!”

“No, no, Theo could not be trusted with this. And besides, you told me what happened.”

Hope stops pacing. “What?”

“You told me that Theo asked the ancestors to bind themselves to their most faithful, most judicious descendant. Sure, she might have meant herself, but if they chose you, they chose you. Ain’t much we can do about that.”

Hope swallows thickly. She just stares at Vincent, face pale. After a minute, she whispers, “I have to go get River.” She turns and makes a beeline for the exit.

“Now hang on!” Vincent shoots to his feet to stop her, but Hope whips around. “No! No, I can’t deal with this today.”

“You have to deal with this today. Theo LeRoy is on a warpath.”

“My girlfriend needs me,” Hope snarls. “And I need…I need…” She takes a deep breath. “I need to not be here.” She storms toward the doors once more, and this time, Vincent doesn’t try to stop her.

Hayley and Hope trek through the bayou, each with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Hayley notices Hope’s uncharacteristic silence, and asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

Hayley’s not convinced. “Do you feel…different?”

Hope looks up at her mother, wide-eyed. “Why would I feel different?”

With a shrug, Hayley says, “I’m no witch, but I would imagine that suddenly being connected to a city’s worth of ancestral magic would make a girl feel more powerful than usual.”

“Oh. Yeah, no, I more or less feel the same.” Honestly, Hope hasn’t even had time to consider what this new connection might mean for her beyond the fact that she is now its lynchpin.

“Then why so quiet?”

Hope hates this. She tells her mother everything; after fifteen years of mostly just each other for companionship, the mother and daughter are extremely close, and Hayley has always been a reliable sounding board for Hope’s troubles. But Hope trusts Vincent, and if he thinks it’s best for her to keep the fact that she is the Advocate a secret for the time being, she will.

So she lies. “Just looking forward to seeing River.”

And sure enough, Mary’s cabin is appearing through the trees, the wood soft in the glow of early morning. The two step up onto the front porch, but they don’t even get the chance to knock before the door is being yanked open. “I’ve been naked for an hour,” River says unceremoniously, wrapped tightly in a plaid blanket.

Hope cocks a half-smile. “Maybe I was late on purpose.”

Hayley rolls her eyes as River grabs the duffel bag from her girlfriend and retreats into the house. She and Hope follow her in. “How was your night?”

“Um.” River closes herself in the bathroom to dress, but says through the door, “Actually, not the worst?”

Surprised, Hayley and Hope exchange a look. “Really?” Hope calls.

“Really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the transition was so painful I wanted to peel off all of my skin, but…” She reemerges, dressed in jeans and a tank top, her feet still bare. “Being a wolf?” She searches for the words.

“There’s nothing like it,” Hayley offers, and River nods.

The front door opens, and Mary and Rose enter, each carrying a massive pail of water. Mary nods her hellos to the newcomers, and then says, “Damn water thing’s busted again, so we gotta use the well for a while.”

River sniffs the air. “Is that food?”

Hayley drops her duffel bag onto the floor, and River kneels to unzip it. “Bagels, oranges, bacon—probably cold by now—hard-boiled eggs, muffins, and, of course—”

“Beignets,” Hope finishes.

River looks up, two strips of bacon already crammed into her mouth. “Ah luff ya,” she says.

Hayley laughs, and then turns in surprise when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She sees Rose, face severe, jerk her head toward the open door. “We need to talk.” Hayley’s eyebrows fly up, but she nods and follows the alpha outside.

Hope helps River move all of the food onto the rickety kitchen table as Mary heads back outside to fill her water tank. As they sit, Hope asks, “So what was it like?”

River swallows her huge bite of beignets. “It was…it made sense.”

“Okay…?”

“Like…being a wolf made sense. The part where my body was literally tearing itself to pieces to become the wolf, that made no sense, but once I was in that body…the smells, the sounds…the feeling of the wind in my fur as I ran…it was like my whole life was leading up to that moment.”

Hope squeezes River’s hand atop the table. “I’m glad it was better than you thought it would be. It sounds awesome.” Her eyes fall down to the table.

River senses a shift in mood, and puts down the muffin she had just reached for. “Is everything okay?”

Hope hears Mary’s heavy footfalls on the porch, and shakes her head. “Later?”

River’s eyebrows furrow, but she nods as Mary reenters the cabin, cursing under her breath about the plumbing.

Marcel strides into the empty church, tapping on his phone as he says, “Alright, what the hell was so important you had to pull me out of a meeting with the mayor?”

Vincent’s waiting for him on the altar. “You alone?”

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Marcel gives Vincent a look somewhere between confused and offended. “Yeah, of course I’m alone. You ask me to come alone, I come alone. Now what is this about? Shouldn’t you be keepin’ your witches from starting yet another civil war in my city?”

Vincent decides to let my city go. “So you know about Theo.”

“Know that she tried to make herself the grand pupa of the ancestors and failed? Yeah, I know.” He stands before the regent, hands on his hips, chin in the air. “So what?”

“Theo may have failed to make herself the ancestors’ Advocate, but that doesn’t mean the spell itself failed.”

“Look, Vincent, I don’t got time to—”

“It’s Hope Mikaelson.” Marcel is deadly silent. “Hope Mikaelson is now the Advocate for the ancestors of New Orleans.”

Marcel runs a hand over his face. “This isn’t funny.”

“No.” Vincent steps down off the altar to stand right in front of Marcel. “This is the best damn news we’ve gotten in years.”

Marcel looks at the regent like he’s crazy. “You think this is good news? Klaus Mikaelson’s daughter now has exclusive access to the witches and you think we shouldn’t be runnin’ for this hills?”

“Think about it, Marcel,” Vincent hisses. “How many times have we tried to establish a real, lasting peace in this city, huh? One in which every community—witches, wolves, and vampires—have been able to live their lives in peace, free to be who they are?” Marcel doesn’t answer. “Even since the fall of the Mikaelsons, we ain’t had a real peace. The witches weren’t strong enough to fight for themselves, and that’s what led Theo to do what she did.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that the witches and the wolves were never gonna trust you to speak for them. And the wolves and vampires were never gonna trust me to speak for them, neither. And as many times as we’ve tried to create a—a—a council, a group representin’ everybody in the city, it’s never worked!

“But Hope.” Vincent’s face blooms into something bright and buoyant. “Hope might just be the key to savin’ this city once and for all.”

Outside of Mary’s cabin, behind the first row of trees, Rose rounds on Hayley, arms crossed. “I don’t like you.”

Hayley’s face betrays only mild surprise. “Okay.”

“I might’ve been a kid when you left fifteen years ago, but even then I understood that our alpha was abandoning us to go on some grand quest to save a couple of vampires who individually have lived longer than everyone in this pack combined.”

“Rose—”

“I’m not done,” Rose snaps. “For years we were leaderless. Jackson was dead, you took off god knows where, and the vampires decided to pick us off while we were at our weakest. After a while Marcel told them to back off. He played it like he was trying to honor you or something, but I knew. He just didn’t want the death of your pack to draw you back here.” She scoffs. “Not that I thought for a second it would.”

Hayley looks at the ground, tugs on the hem of her shirt. “Look, Rose, I know I didn’t do right by this pack—”

“So I stepped up.” Rose keeps talks like Hayley never opened her mouth. “I triggered the curse at nineteen, and when I was twenty-two I couldn’t stand by and watch my people fade away into nothingness. I’ve been alpha for three years now, and I may not know what I’m doing, but I do know what my next step is.”

Face drawn, Hayley asks, “And what’s that?”

“I need a meeting with Vincent Griffith and Marcel Gerard, and you’re going to set it up for me.” Not a question, not a request. A demand.

Hayley takes a deep breath. “Okay. And what would this meeting be about, exactly?”

Rose’s answering smile is sarcastic. “Well that’s alpha business, and you’re not the alpha anymore.”

It stings, but Hayley knows she deserves it. “And why should I ask them to meet with you? Seems to me like you don’t have much going for you out here.”

Rose narrows her eyes. “You’re going to do it because I spent last night keeping your daughter’s girlfriend from losing her goddamn mind. And because you owe us.”

Hayley sighs deeply, then nods. “Okay. Okay.” She starts to walk back toward the house, and then stops, turns to face Rose again. “Why do you turn?”

Rose’s brows knit in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The rest of the pack. They gained control of their turning during the ceremony with Jackson. But you…”

Rose works her jaw. “I was a kid, and I hadn’t triggered my curse, so I wasn’t invited to the wedding. Every Crescent born afterward would inherit that ability, but me…” She shrugs. “I got shafted.”

“Oh.” Hayley never considered the kids, never thought about those who hadn’t yet triggered their curses, but might, someday. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” Rose nods to the cabin. “Get them back to the Quarter. And get me that meeting with Vincent and Marcel.” And with that, Rose stalks off into the woods.

When River and Hope enter the compound, their jaws immediately drop. An intricate web of streamers—gold, green, and purple—encompass the courtyard, where a small army of workers assembles a stage in one corner. Across the way, a long table is being put together, an endless tablecloth waiting to be draped over top. Colored balloons are tied to the balconies, and strings of lights weave between the wrought iron.

“What the hell?”

Elijah and Rebekah turn to grin at the girls, who can barely move for shock. “Welcome back!” Rebekah says cheerfully. She walks over to them and wraps an arm around River’s shoulder. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m doing the weirdest acid trip in history. What is all this?”

“Ah.” Elijah sets a clipboard down on the impossibly long table and approaches. “These are…preparations. For the party.”

“The party,” Hope repeats, deadpan. “Wasn’t Mardi Gras, like, months ago?”

“It’s for you!” Rebekah chirps.

Hope’s eyes widen even further. “For me?”

“For your birthday!”

And that’s when Hope remembers: her eighteenth birthday is tomorrow. “Oh.”

Elijah tries to dampen his smile. “Did you forget?”

“Honestly…yeah. I mean, first there was rescuing Dad, and then waking all of you up, and then River getting kidnapped, and then last night…” She catches herself before she says too much, recalling Vincent’s warning. “It’s just been a lot. I haven’t had time to think about…”

“Being an adult?” Rebekah offers. Hope nods.

River points at all of the decorations. “That still doesn’t explain all this.”

“Yeah,” Hope says. “I mean, a party? For who? I have one friend, and I’m dating her.”

“The party is for New Orleans.” Everyone’s eyes turn to Klaus, who’s descending the staircase, gesturing grandly to the set-up. “All of the most important figures in this city will be invited to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of my child, as well as our triumphant return to New Orleans.”

Hope nods once, eyes falling to the floor. “Right. So this has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with reminding everyone that the Mikaelsons are all-powerful harbingers of terror.”

Klaus gives a too-pleased grin. “Well, I suppose one could…” He trails off as his daughter stalks past him, avoiding his gaze. “Hope?” He looks at his siblings, bewildered.

River narrows her eyes in judgement. “Dude.” Shaking her head, she follows her girlfriend up to their shared room.

Elijah shifts to cross his arms and glare at his brother, who merely gives a baffled shrug.

After dropping the girls off at the compound, Hayley makes her way to St. Anne’s, where she’s lucky enough to find both Vincent and Marcel, heads tipped together conspiratorially. They look up quickly when they hear her footsteps. “What’re you doing here?” Marcel asks bluntly.

“Nice to see you too.” She finally reaches them and crosses her arms. “I need the two of you to meet with Rose Capitoline.”

The men exchange blank looks. “Who’s that?”

Hayley rolls her eyes. “She’s the new alpha of the Crescent pack.”

“Huh.” Marcel leans up against the wall of the sanctuary. “Didn’t realize they had a new alpha.”

“Shocking they didn’t consult with you first.”

“Well why does she want a meeting with us? Shouldn’t the Crescents hate the vampires, and the witches too?”

“Oh, they should, and they do,” Hayley says bitingly. “But I don’t know why she wants a meeting. I don’t care. You’re going to give it to her.”

Marcel works his jaw like he wants to argue, but Vincent says, “Actually…I think meeting with her is a good idea.” He gives Marcel a significant look, and Marcel slowly nods in agreement.

Hayley looks between the two of them with suspicion. “Do I want to know what’s going on here?”

Vincent gives her a bland smile. “Tell Rose we’d like to talk to her as soon as possible.”

Part of Hayley is worried that Rose is walking into something far more complicated than she could ever imagine, but right now she just wants to get back to Hope. “Whatever,” she says, spinning around, already pulling her phone out of her pocket as she exits the church.

When River enters their bedroom, Hope is leaning on the rail of the balcony, her hair falling down to obscure her face from view. The werewolf makes her way out, standing beside her girlfriend and looking down onto the street below. “I don’t really know what to say when your vampire dad says he’s going to use your birthday as an excuse to claim power in New Orleans. Maybe offer to make tea?”

Hope puffs out something akin to a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just…I knew, who he was, what his priorities were. My mom tried her hardest not to…make him seem like a monster to me. And he didn’t. My whole life I thought of my dad as a martyr who sacrificed a life with me to save his siblings, and he was a hero to me.” She sighs. “I guess even heroes are people, too. Still, I should have known better than to expect too much from the man so terrible that he was the scary story regular vampires told each other over campfires.”

“I don’t think you were unreasonable to expect your dad not to be a dick,” River points out.

“I guess.” Hope tucks her hair behind one ear so she can see her girlfriend out of the corner of her eye. “It’s just, with everything going on…”

“Holy shit!” River grabs Hope’s arm and pulls her upright so they’re facing each other.

That’s when Hope feels it, the trickle of something hot and wet from her nose. She wicks the blood away with the back of her hand. “Sorry, sorry—”

“Don’t—oh my god.” River takes Hope’s face in her hands and stares her right in the eyes. “This has gone on long enough. Tell me what’s going on, now.”

Hope stares back for a long while, and then whispers. “Okay, but not here.” Her eyes flick down to the street. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

They meet in St. James Infirmary. It’s neutral ground for all of them, and Rose already feels ganged up on, even though she’s the one who called the meeting. Vincent and Marcel, for all their disagreements, are mostly allies, and they have no reason to listen to a word she says.

There’s a jazz band playing, and the bar is fairly crowded, so when Rose approaches the corner table where the witch regent and the vampire king are waiting for her, she’s not worried they’ll be overheard. They’re seated when she walks up, shoulders straight to display a sense of confidence she’s not sure she has. “I’m surprised you agreed to meet with me.”

Marcel motions for her to take a seat opposite them. “Actually, we were going to reach out to you.”

That’s…interesting. Rose slowly lowers herself into the chair, suspicion coloring her face. “Why?”

“We wanted to talk to you about the future of New Orleans,” Vincent says, gaze steady.

“That’s a lucky coincidence. I’m here to talk about the wolves’ future in New Orleans. I am done watching my people suffer in silence out in the bayou. We deserve access to medicine, to culture. Our children deserve to go to schools, real schools. We deserve to live our lives without fear that the vampires are going to slaughter us, or that the witches are going to put a curse on us again. We want back in the Quarter, and we want it now.”

Vincent and Marcel look at each other, the ghosts of smiles dancing at the corners of their mouths. Finally Marcel flags down a server and says to Rose, “Get yourself a drink. We have a lot to talk about.”

They’re walking down Chartres Street toward Jackson Square. Each restaurant they pass is blaring music as the midday lunch rush swirls around them. Hope keeps her hands in her pocket as she begins her story. “Because the bones of my grandmother were consecrated on New Orleans soil, I have an ancestral tie to the magic that fuels the witches who live here.” River nods, following along. “Fifteen years ago, that tie was severed. It was a much bigger deal for the witches who live here, because for them, the ancestors are their only source of magic. That’s not the case for me, so it wasn’t much of a problem.

“Last night, that ancestral tie was…fixed. All of us have access to that power again, but it’s…it’s different now.”

“Different how?”

Hope takes a deep breath, searching for the words. “The witch who did the spell, Theo—”

“The crazy bitch who kidnapped me in my sleep? I’m familiar.”

“Right. Well, she was worried that the ancestors, if we were connected to them again, would, I guess, be super controlling of the living witches. Apparently that was a big problem back in the day? I don’t know, I was like two.

“Anyway, she tried to make herself the sort-of gatekeeper for the ancestors. They’d only be able to express their opinions, concerns, whatever to her. They wouldn’t be able to control us.”

“Well, that sounds like a good thing,” River says. “What’s the issue?”

Hope stops walking, and River does the same. “It didn’t work.”

River stares at her blankly. “What do you mean?”

“Theo didn’t make herself the gatekeeper.” She pauses. “It’s me. I’m the Advocate for the ancestors.”

River’s eyes widen. “Okay, I’m still not one hundred percent sure what that means, but it sounds serious.”

For a second, Hope wants to walk away, to leave River far from the confusing mess that her life is devolving into. But she doesn’t think she could do any of this without River by her side, that snarky, comforting voice in her ear. So she explains, “It means I hear them. All the time. Hundreds, thousands of voices in my head, screaming at me, whispering to me. The ancestors of New Orleans have been silent for fifteen years, and now I’m the only person who can hear them.”

River grips Hope’s hand so hard Hope worries the bones might crack. “Jesus Christ, that sounds awful.”

“It’s—I don’t know. It’s a lot, and you can’t tell anyone.”

“Yeah, of course.” River’s face works through a dozen different emotions. “But is this what’s causing the nosebleeds? I thought those started before last night.”

“Oh.” Hope starts to walk again, River’s hand still squeezing hers. “It’s…related?” River merely waits for her to elaborate. “Okay, think of my magic like…like a river.” River smiles, and Hope rolls her eyes. “Like an actual river, a strong one, like the raging rapids that people raft down. It’s fast and strong and overwhelming. And my entire life, I’ve put this dam in the river. It’s kept my power at bay. Sure, I’ve been able to use it, mostly for small spells—opening locks, locator spells, turning off the lights when I don’t feel like getting out of bed. And each time I use that power, a tiny crack forms in the dam. Nothing I can’t handle. My power stays hidden, where it can’t hurt anybody.

“But since the night that Vincent came to Tallahassee to get me, I have been doing much bigger spells, and using a lot more magic. And those tiny cracks are now much, much bigger. It’s getting harder and harder for me to keep the power from swallowing me whole, and thus…”

“Nosebleeds,” River finishes, and Hope nods. “Shouldn’t you tell someone about this? What about Freya? She’s got to know how to help.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Hope worries her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t know what to do. And now that I have this ancestral magic on top of what I already had…it’s like the raging river is flooding.”

“Hope.” River pulls them to a stop again. “It’s not just you and your mom anymore. You have people in your life who can help you, who want to help you. You have to let them. Before this magic kills you.”

Hope nods. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But Vincent told me to keep this whole Advocate thing a secret and—”

“Screw Vincent.” River kisses Hope’s forehead, and Hope didn’t realize just how much she needed that. “You are more important than whatever he’s up to.”

Hope smiles softly. “Thanks for…I don’t know. Being you. Being epic.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty great.” She loops her arm through Hope’s and resumes their walk to Jackson Square. “Remember that when I tell you I forgot to get you a birthday present.”

It’s late in the day, and Theo LeRoy is alone in her crypt, seething. She’s mostly righted everything inside, and now she’s poring over every piece of paper she owns, trying to figure out exactly what went wrong.

“It should have worked,” she mutters to herself, fingers curled into fists atop her work table. “I did everything right. It should have worked.”

“I think it did.”

Theo’s eyes flick up to see Dom leaning in the doorway. “I’m not in the mood.”

Ignoring her, Dom says, “I just had a very interesting conversation with all nine of our Harvest girls.”

Theo’s eyes are scanning the pages again. “So?”

“None of them can access the ancestors.”

That catches Theo’s attention. She straightens up. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve been trying to channel the ancestors all morning. Contorted themselves six ways to Sunday and still nothing.”

Theo leans back against the wall. “That is interesting.”

“So what does it mean if not even the nine girls we sent to retrieve the ancestors can commune with them? Someone has to be talking to them. They’re not exactly a quiet group.”

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Theo’s face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That there’s an Advocate running around the city somewhere and we have no idea who they are?”

Theo lets out a long, humorless laugh. “Oh, I am going to find them. Whoever they are, I will hunt them down and I will take back what was stolen from me.” Her eyes snap to Dom, who’s looking at her with something akin to surprise. “Even if I have to kill them to do it.”

[pikapegasus]

#86 from One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ for Starmora please?

86. “You’re important, too.”

or, the one where peter and gamora have made it through the honeymoon phase and have to evaluate whether or not they’re strong enough to actually work out in the long run ;))) yay, angst lmao

send me a ship + a number for a way to say “I love you”!!!!!

Peter fucked up.

Though he may not as easily admit to others, he recognizes,within himself, that he’s somewhat at fault for the fight that had transpiredbetween him and Gamora earlier. They’d been out on a mission that, of course,spun out of control and led to a shoot-out with some (surprisingly organized)thugs, which resulted in everyone returning to the Milano a little worse forwear.

By the time they’d later returned to the Quadrant, Peter realizedhe was a bit more injured than he’dinitially thought (or let on to the others), and when he attempted to downplayit, all hell broke loose.

Specifically, between him and Gamora.

Their fights are known for being epic among the team, as Peter oftenconsiders Gamora his rival in stubbornness. They’re two individuals witha death wish for the sake of protecting their loved ones; the moment one ofthem calls the other out on it, since it sometimes leads to dumb decisions on the battlefield, things go awry between them for a few days.

But now things are different, which Peter knows is whyGamora was so quick to react negatively this time. Ego isn’t quite a distant memory for them yet, andneither is Peter and Gamora’s “unspoken thing” making its way to the realm ofopen, honest acknowledgement. What once felt like a dream now feels like thecold claws of reality trying to rip them apart.

Basically, a lot of weird things and feelings are happeningwithin the team right now, and Peter’s not really sure what to do about it.

So, rather than sleep on it, like Gamora had advised him tooafter grumpily treating the deep blaster graze on his arm (yet, her hands remainedas careful and delicate as ever throughout the procedure, though she was thrilled to give him an earful theentire time), Peter decides to wander around the Quadrant with his Zune, justthinking over things.

He turns the corner toward the cockpit, deciding the bestplace to space out is, well, where he can see space.

Then the pilot’s chair swivels toward him to reveal—of freakin’ course—Gamora.

Though Peter’s somewhat startled, he’s not surprised. He pullsthe earbuds out of his ears. “Hey.”

She presses her lips together. “Why aren’t you asleep? Yourarm—“

“—is fine,” he finishes for her, even moving it a bit toshow her. (He regrets it immediately, wincing a bit as it falls back intoplace, but he tries to internalize it as much as poss—okay, nope, Gamora definitely noticed, dammit.) “I just needed to mellow out for a bit. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I just wanted to check on things.” She crosses her armsover her chest in her typical Gamora-fashion.

“Isn’t it Kraglin’s shift tonight?”

“I took over for him.”

He pauses, studying her for a moment. “Why?”

She shrugs, rotating the chair back to facing the front ofthe ship.

That’s about as good of an answer he knows he’ll get out ofher for that, so he decides to let go of itfor now. He’s too busy taking in her appearance, anyway; her eyes look heavierthan usual, her hair dangerously close to looking straight-up disheveled, which is enough for him toidentify something is wrong.

The answer’s obvious, though. He walks up to the chair,standing beside her. “So…this is the most we’ve exchanged words since earlier,so I’m assuming the silent treatment is over?”

She glares up at him, but it’s noticeably softer than hours before.“You say that as if I was the only participant.”

And she’s not wrong; he’d been holding up his end of the stubbornsilence just as much as she had for the past several hours. He sighs. “I didn’tmean it like that.”

When she doesn’t respond, he continues, “We equally held upour ends in the silent treatment. There, I acknowledged it. Can we move past itnow?”

But she shakes her head, her steely expression finallycrumbling a bit. “I don’t know, Peter. I’m not sure this is a good ideaanymore.”

“The silent treatment is always a horrible idea—“

“No, I mean, this,”she says vaguely, gesturing between them. “Us, our unspoken-but-now-spoken thing, the guy andthe girl and the…TV ratings? Either way, every time we have an argument…”

She trails off, but he understands where she’s coming from.Honestly, he thought finally beginning a “relationship”—or whatever they arenow—would prevent them from having these stupid squabbles like they’ve hadsince day one.

But, of course, that’s not the case. They’re still Peter andGamora, just now together in a unit.That hasn’t changed their individual selves and personalities, which meant they’dinevitably remain on somewhat of a collision course over certain things.

And Peter draws further upon his extended knowledge ofTerran TV programming for an explanation. “We’re out of the honeymoon phase.”

Confusion replaces the sadness and frustration in Gamora’sexpression. “The what?”

“On Terra, after people get married, they go on a specialvacation alone to celebrate called a ‘honeymoon.’ Since they just got married, they’re so busy beinghappy and stuff to really notice any big problems that they’ll probably end upfacing later in their marriage,” he explains. “So when two people are dating,or courting, or whatever, there’sthis part in the beginning, right after they first got together, where it feelslike everything’s perfect, nothing could go wrong, things will for sure improve, but…” He gestures between them, as she hadmoments before. “Then it eventually ends because the reality that, hey, you’restill not going to always get along with this person and agree with them on everything, inevitably sets in.”

Just as it has now.

“So, yeah, we’ve finally come face-to-face with the realitythat us being together isn’t the perfect endgame to every problem, I guess,” hecontinues carefully.

(He tries to ignore the nervousness expanding in his chestat the direction the conversation’s going, because, honestly, despite theirepic argument earlier, he’s somewhat convinced himself that being with Gamorais one of the coolest things ever,but it’s because he respects her that he can’t force her to feel the same way.)

(Because if she wants to call it quits…he respects her too much to stop her.)

She considers his words for several, silent moments.

“So…we are no longer as perfect of a couple as we initiallybelieved ourselves to be.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “This is usually the make-it-or-break-itpart of the relationship. At least, that’s what’d happened on TV. This is whenpeople figure out if they should stay together.”

“Have you figured the answer out for yourself yet?” sheasks.

“I…have,” he replies cautiously, trying to gauge herresponse. “And you…?”

“I have.” She stands up then, grasping his hands and pullinghim closer to her. “I want to keep fighting.”

“You want us to keep arguingforever?” 

“No, not like that,” she corrects with a small smile. “Iwant to keep fighting to stay with you, which means persevering in a galaxythat occasionally seems to want us dead.”

He laughs andsqueezes her hands, feeling his muscles relax and heartbeat slow. “Oh, good, Iwas a little worried there for a sec.”

“If we are goingto be in a…’relationship,’ or what have you, now, we should probably try to resolve our arguments more efficiently,” she says softly. “Weshould talk about what happened earlier.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your injury?” she asks, hertone careful to exclude anger.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal?” he tries, butshe maintains her hard, calculated gaze. “Well, okay, yes, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but that’s ‘causebefore…before Ego happened, it wouldn’thave been, since I was still part…well, you know.”

And that’s the ugly, terrifying truth Peter’s been trying toevade for hours now. Before they killed Ego and he was still part-Celestial,Peter had actually been able to escape serious injury a lot more easily. He’d recover quickly enough for injuries (like theone he’d suffered today) to practically disappear overnight.

But now he’s “normal,” or whatever, which has now knockedhim down a few pegs, physically speaking.

He briefly recalls his argument with Gamora back on Ego’splanet, and judging by her thoughtful expression, he has a feeling she is, too,especially when the first thing she says is, “I never thought of you as the ‘weaklink,’ or anything of the sort. More physically disadvantaged than the rest ofus, perhaps, because of your Terran background, but never weak.”

“I’m sorry I said all those things,” he murmurs, feelingguilt claw at his heart. Their fight on Ego’s planet had been one of theirugliest, but their usual post-argument routine (which typically consisted of the silenttreatment, snide comments, disagreeing on literally everything else, or any combination of all of the above) had beenskipped entirely because the next thing Peter knew, he was being used as a battery forEgo.

“It’s okay,” she reassures him. “Ego is, actually, part ofthe reason I reacted the way I did earlier as well. It’s just…I almost lost youback there, on Ego’s planet, and I just haven’t been able to shake this fear—“

Days after the events on Ego’s planet had taken place,Gamora had briefly mentioned what had happened when Mantis actually managedto touch her, how it had woken up a fear that she’d managed to bury so deeplyfor so long. But ever since Mantis’ touch, coupled with everything that hadhappened back there, Gamora’s been a bit more shaken up than usual.

“It’s okay to be afraid,” Peter reassures her when she neverpicks the sentence back up.

“It’s childish,” Gamora insists quietly, almost ashamed. “It’snot important.”

“But you’reimportant, Gamora,” he reminds her, releasing her hands so he can embrace her. “Notonly to me, but to everyone else on this ship. Your feelings matter.”

She hugs him back, breathing a sigh into his shoulder. “You’reimportant, too, Peter. That’s why I get upset when you downplay things likethis.”

“Well, I’ll try to work on that,” he says earnestly,because, honestly? Gamora deserves the effort, so he’s willing to try. “You’reright. This honest communication thing works a lot better than the silent treatment.”

She laughs at that. “Thank you, Peter.”

He breaks the hug then, meeting her eyes. “Can you work onsomething for me, too?”

“Yes?”

“Just letting me know when you’re…upset,” he says. “Whenever you’re sad or scared or whatever, you cantalk to me about it. I want to bethere for you, because you’re always there for me.”

“I’ll try,” she murmurs, a bit uncertainly, but he knowsher, and Gamora never puts less than100% effort into anything she does. He trusts her.

“We’ve successfully survived past the honeymoon phase!” heannounces. She smiles at that, but rolls her eyes when his attempt to raise hisarms in a true victory pose endsabruptly with a string of muttered curses over the pain.

“Can you please gosleep off your injury now?”

send me a ship + a number from this **new** list (pls specify it’s the new list tho)!!!!

[ajokeformur-ray]

@theoriginalgodsgirlrachel

Little things about me: I love the beach, and kinda feel connected to it. Not just the sand and ocean itself, but everything else? The little towns, the beaches in the middle of nowhere, city-side beaches, the shops and places to eat, if I fall in love with the atmosphere of a place it's most likely because it's by the sea 💕 I love peaches~ And baked apples ^_^ And bananas and chocolate (together~) And STRAWBERRIES~!! I love pastel colored bikes, and The Golden Hour, and Good Vegan Comfort Food tm, and tea (rose, or English Breakfast~) + a fire and a cozy blanket on a rainy day. (Which I also love~ ^_^ ☔️) I adore all the seasons too much to have a favorite, but my favorite transition is summer to fall 💚💛❤️ And PEONIES~!! 💖💖 And pink/blue/burgundy hydrangeas~💖💙 And pink/white/yellow/orange roses~✨ And my birth flower, Lilly of the Valley 💚) I listen to/adore far too many kinds of music to list any, but if I could list one kind that I feel like would sort of 'describe' the kind of person I am? It would 100% be In Love with A Ghost, on YouTube 💗 I'm very close to the LGBT community in general, and because of that, while I certainly still have a faith, I am absolutely not religious. I'm a total geeky nerd who loves to learn scientific theories and combine them with what my religion says happened/may have happened, purely for the fun of it~. Like how people would make theories over a new chapter of Black Butler would, lol. I am not at all close to either of my parents. Though I AM closer to my mother. But not by much. I've always been in love with ice skating. Professionals look so stunningly graceful and powerful, and I want to strive for that kind of beauty too, even if it's just as a hobby~ 💖 Art is my life. My drug addiction. The air I breathe. I am literally not good enough at anything else to do it as a job without at least sinking into daily depression. And I've always loved it for as long as I can remember~ Since I could walk, practically✨ I'm forever hooked on the process of creating something out of nothing~ (Though artists and depression both run in my dad's side of the family, and unsurprisingly I have occasional bouts of it as well. Vitamin B helps tons tho~ ^_^) I hate confrontation, so I'm a very forward person, though that doesn't mean I'm harsh unless I have to be~!! If I like you, I'll tell you💕 If I can't stand you, you'll get ignored. If you ask if I don't like you, I won't beat around the bush. And if you don't like what you heard, quite frankly, I won't care. Because you asked. It takes a lot of pushing for me to have any kind of extreme reaction over something. Unless you're someone I actually love, then it usually instantly distresses me. It hurts me to leave the people I'd take a bullet for if they're suddenly being incredibly toxic, but I'll do so if I know I have to, and I couldn't fix it.If I love you and I'm no longer shy about it bc you know/feel the same, HOLD ME BACK!!! I might be kinda shy at expressing it at first till I get used to/comfy being romantic with you, but eventually I'll just??? Love you to death??? Listen I'm polyamorous, I literally have all the love in the world to give 💖 If a partner told me they were ever feeling less loved than another, I'd set everything else to the side immediately, and smother them in love and kisses until all those doubts and feelings went away again 💕💕 I'd straight up die for you, wether to save you or be with you forever 💗💗 However, I'm also very much a "my good impression once lost is lost forever", kind of person. I take my T I M E to give you all of my heart. And if you mistreat it, or break it, you lose it. Even if it's slowly. You won't get it back. Fortunately, I know my own self worth and it's taken a long time for me to find it. And no one is an exception to that. Not my parents, not family or friends, and certainly not lovers. I AM A VERY SUPER SILLY PERSON WHEN YOU GET TO KNOW MEEEE~!! Srsly my humor consists of Shane Dawson, Tana Mongue, and Markiplier (roughly). And also Tumblr tbh. So~ If I'm being silly/loud with you in a happy way, and still have down-to-earth moments with you, you can have no doubt I like you a lot and feel like I can be myself with you 💕💕

- Sebastian would take you to the beach as often as he could get away with. It doesn’t matter if Ciel is expecting him back at the Manor soon, he’s gonna take the scenic route and take you to the beach. You’d be nestled in his arms and he’d carry you there. He’d give you a few minutes to just soak it up, drink it in, and then you’re back in his arms, being rushed with his demon speed back to the Manor. Ciel can smell the sea air on you and knows what happened but pretends that he doesn’t know. He wants that beautiful smile on your face just as much as Sebastian does.

- Sebastian would always bake you your favourite things, whch mostly includes all the fruits you love! Every now and then he’d gift you with expensive chocolates that he’d likely made himself. Chocolate covered strawberries are a favourite; he loves feeding them to you. Chocolate dipped bananas are also a favourite and he makes sure that if you have a banana split, you have plenty of chocolate sauce to keep you content. He would berate you sometimes if you eat too many sweets in one go but he loves seeing you happy and turns a blind eye when your sweet tooth is raging.

- On days when it rains and there’s not much on your schedule, he’d come to you when you’ve done what you need to, a blanket tucked under his arm, some good books and a pot of fresh tea. Then, with the rain lashing against the windows, he lights a fire and the two of you get comfortable. His fingers naturally find their way into your hair and he gently untangles any knots as he goes. He’s so careful that you don’t feel him there.

- A little section of his garden, next to Ciel’s favourites, are peonies and hydrangeas in your favourite colours. He cuts one off, every day, and puts it in your hair or on your clothes. Sometimes, you’ll even wake to one on your pillow with a small handwritten note telling you that he loves you.

- Just like I wrote in your commissioned oneshot, you can bet your ass that Sebastian makes you an ice rink during winter on the Phantomhive grounds and you can bet that he goes with you each and every time and will even fashion you your very own custom made ice-skates. No expense spared and even Ciel might have a go, though he stops when Sebastian begins picking him up and throwing him around xD Sebastian would tell you that you’re beautiful when skating even when you stumble, and when you fall he will catch you in that flawless way with a wink and a, “I promised to always catch you should you fall, did I not?” and a dipped kiss.

- He loves your artistry and your devotion to creativity and he’d buy you parchments and the like that you need in order to draw. He’d get you absolutely whatever you wanted and wwouldn’t ever let anyone or anything impose on your drawing time. He also heavily appreciates your straight-forwardness when dealing with confrontation and finds it amusing how you will straight up ignore someone who’s being rude to you or someone ou know. 

- He knows well just how much you love him and though he’s alwas busy, he gives you a few moments each and every day to smother him in hugs and kisses. Believe me, he’ll return it to you in kind. You know what you want and how to get it, and you know your own worth and where you stand. This sureness about where you fit in the world fills him with pride and I know that he would tell you every time you stand up for yourself that he’s proud of you, aware of how much effort it can sometimes take to be so strong.

- Sometimes, when you’re chilled and relaxing with a film or you’re happy and chirping at him, he’ll grin wide enough to show his fangs just to hear you gush and fawn over them. He never doubts your love for him, not even for a second, and he makes sure that anyone who even tries to put similar doubts in yor head will be mentally and physically destroyed. No one upsets you, and he makes sure that you know just how much you mean to him. Your life may be fleeting, but he’ll be damned if he lets you spend even a second feeling bad about loving him.

[rina-rambles]

Hold On To That Feeling

Daydreaming and feeling overwhelming surges of inspiration is normal for me when I’m separated from the means to write (in other words, my laptop) for any extended period of time. I admit that very few times in my life have been so hugely joyous that a certain urgency to capture it in words lasts past the event. Some people have the gift of being motivational rather than nagging and I fully believe that it is the seven-hour car ride next to Sam and my number one baby that I owe this determination to not procrastinate anymore to.

The happiest and saddest experiences are either the easiest or hardest to put into words. In my grief for Max in 2015, I tried desperately to put into words the sudden sense of mortality I felt, being able to remember him as a little pup as if it were yesterday. But unlike my externally forced graduation speech back in 2010, which told as neutrally as possible of my hellish high school years, I couldn’t find the words for my sweet boy. The ever-expanding graveyard is since that summer where I find my ultimate peace and maybe that’s all I can ever say about it.

Maybe because I’ve admired and looked up to One Tree Hill actress and my idol Shantel Vansanten for so many years now, but I finally understand why she says “I look for inspiration in everything around me.” There was a time when I used to wait for that surge of urgency to write, but now many writing courses and pep talks later I’ve realized that it takes as much determination and focus as it does genuine inspiration to be productive. Every time I have heart-to-heart talks with Sam, I come away feeling more talented and capable for it so I owe it to her and myself to capture all the moments that it brings me joy to think about.

After the family vacation through Bruges in Belgium, the French war memorials and last but far from least Watford’s Warner Bros Studios three years ago, I always regretted not pushing through the procrastination to write about how much lasting joy I gained from October 10 2014. Naturally, it was my psychologist who helped me make use of that day of bliss at every turn, by using the happiness of the memory to put me back in a good headspace during stressful and less joyous times. Because I’ve figured out the key to making memories long-lasting for me personally, it is and always has been music. The more Indian weddings I attend the more certain I am that any Indian function my possible future wedding may have will be a sangeet only. I have a carefully chosen anti-anxiety playlist of positive musical associations and have to give even my least favourite One Tree Hill character, Peyton Sawyer, credit for one truth: 

But I digress, being a huge fan of John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars after the film adaptation released in summer 2014, come the sightseeing in Belgium that October it was the soundtrack’s peppy track Boom Clap I tuned into as we walked the quaint streets of Bruge. The film’s love story took place in Amsterdam before terminal cancer turned it tragic and hearing that song on a tourist boat ride in Belgium felt close enough to the movie magic to be a joy to recall. 

Seeing the war memorials on the next part of the trip it was my Dad’s excitement and the sheer scale of historical melancholy that made it unforgettable, being there to witness the 100th anniversary of WW1 was obviously an immense and sobering experience. But all that took place before one of the happiest days of my life, the one I’m sure I would think back on if J.K Rowling’s Patronus Charm existed in real life. In a way, I understand how she made the joy-sucking Dementors a metaphor for her own depression because that single day has had the strength to carry me through hard times ever since.

Harry Potter was what turned me into what I define myself as today: a fangirl. The fascinating Marauder era still holds a very special place in a heart no longer seventeen but probably happier than nearly a decade ago. It makes me feel old to think that the first Potter film adaptation came out sixteen years ago, 2001 was incidentally the same year to give the world Karan Johar’s Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, which initiated my ten-year obsession with SRK.

Coming back to the Watford experience, I can safely say it was life-changing: Between Tom Felton’s humorous tour guide recorded narration, the animatronic Buckbeak that actually bowed and blinked and my first taste of Butterbeer, I was floored long before the most exhilarating and then emotional parts of the day. The simulated broom ride which thanks to the souvenir videos and photograph reminds me more than anything else how happy that day was, is still something I just have to watch to feel intense surrealism to this day. But my favourite photograph that day is of me posing behind the Privet Drive sign. It’s hilarious to think that on the set the awful Dursley’s home exterior is right next to the ruin of Lily and James Potter’s house.

Already soaring on a wave of bliss that had begun with the HP film scores blasting all the way to the parking lot, standing in front of that scorched wall is where I got really emotional because somehow the couple who are dead before the series even begins have always meant the most to me. Yes walking through Diagon Alley’s set with the incredible detail on all sides I genuinely felt like Harry in wishing I had about a hundred eyes at once. But somehow it was still that ruined Potter cottage that I remember responding to now; the fictional sacrifice for their baby’s life as stirring and inspiring as anything else that trip.

When I was sixteen I once had a crush on a boy just because he resembled the fifteen-year-old James Potter from the Order Of The Phoenix film adaptation, incidentally my last non-celebrity / fictional crush to date.

Needless to say, that went nowhere and Harry Potter has stayed an important happy place for me longer than anyone in school ever did. There might still be times when the high school years negatively affect how I feel about myself but those days are few and far between.

Luckily for me, it’s a fact that time heals all wounds and someday only those powerful happy memories will remain. As Albus Dumbledore wisely said after all...

Even as a writer, with a craft as creative and yet honed by habit as many others, the end result of a piece like this isn’t always in sight from the beginning. There’s always the fine line of discussing a work in progress with my cheerleading family and figuring out on my own what feels right. I’ve had all sorts of advice; to combine experiences or don’t, or to be honest and heartfelt but draw the line somewhere. But at the end of the day, I know that the only way to get the words out is to find my own flow and go with it. All the song lyrics and Disney mottos about following your heart have got to come from a place of some kind of experience I suppose, so that’s what I decide to do with every word.

The theme of this article is holding on to joy and describing some hugely happy moments in my recent past would not be complete without the last week’s trip to Kottayam in Kerala. Some say this past week, with a royal Indian wedding and such a fabulous vacation with old friends deserves its own article and maybe someday it will get it. After all it took three years to pay tribute to the Potter joy as this article does.

But stand-alone tribute or not, the vacation after the Scindia wedding deserves a very heartfelt mention for inspiring me to write again in the first place with the love from old friends and simply breath-taking experiences. In a way, it does tie into the whole filmy Potter experience because Chacko Uncle shared his jaw-dropping world so modestly with us. How often does the average person get to sneak onto an active TV set and witness a girl prance onto the stage to an iconic SRK song? 

For almost a decade my love of Bollywood became a way to connect with my roots from abroad and now it is always being in India that finds some way or other to remind me how much I will always admire King Khan. Granted there’s a huge nostalgia factor now but that song choice and moment in a little corner of that studio, trying to sneak a peek without tripping over the wires or squealing out loud was something I won’t forget in a hurry.

Over the next two days, the thrills just kept on coming, whether it was the epic serenades of our very own crooner Charles (the man stole my heart with Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and kept it awed with a freaking Swiss German number) or getting to feel like a film star speeding along the backwaters, it was definitely like the Warner Studios tour in that I wanted to drink in all the sights and hold on to how I felt in the moment.

I’m not normally particularly keen on selfies, but with the enforced dressing up for the wedding before the Kottayam vacation, maybe the habit of sharing spilled over to that part of the holiday. Cruising along the backwaters I felt able to define wind-swept hair quite literally and even the slight motion sickness became easy to ignore with the sun kissing my exposed skin and finally getting to put my prescription sunglasses to good use. The picturesque backdrops helped me to feel beautiful and for that, I am more thankful than anything. Here’s hoping ten years don’t go by until the next reunion, visits to the south are as much a fascinating window into Mom and Dad’s past as anything else.

As my former obsession show used to say “by its very definition, glee is about opening yourself up to joy” and with experiences like these under my belt I might yet learn to do just that more often. 

Despite the way it crashed and burned, Glee did teach me to never stop believing and I like to think I’m one step closer to that faith with the power of all these good experiences to guide me. One Tree Hill creator Mark Schwahn made the idea of “someday” a trademark of many couples he wrote and I think my someday of just feeling good might be a lot closer these days. To end on one final OTH quote because it has words for everything 

I’ve come to realize that I don’t have to dismiss the bad things in my past in order to find happiness, but I feel like my perspective on the years of teenage suffering has changed and that, for now, is good enough.

[queenkaramel]

In A Moment

Summary (One Shot)

Kara is grieving over the loss of her fiance, Mon-El. She reminisces the life she had with him, while questioning whether she will ever be able to move on.

Posted On:  AO3   &   FFN 

The clock read 1:41.  

Kara flipped to the other side of the bed where the clock could no longer taunt her. She tightly clutched a plaid shirt in her hand, the dampness increasing as another tear streaked down her face. Each sob that racked her body was caught in the shirt. Her fierce grip made it impossible to determine where the shirt began and where she ended.

She constricted her body into a fetal position with one simple goal: to achieve numbness. Alas, her Kryptonian physiology and the yellow sun would prevent a cool wave from washing over her. She simply wished to stop the constant pain that surged in her body. However, the numbness never came and the grief continued to suffocate her. Each heartbeat reminded her of what she lost, who she lost: her friend, her companion, her lover, her partner, her fiancé. Mon-El.

She snuggled into the shirt in search of his scent, hoping the embrace would invoke some memories that are attached to this simple piece of cloth. Even the inconsequential ones.  The ones people would simply overlook, the ones people took for granted, the ones she took for granted.

This was his favorite shirt, this had always been his favorite shirt and, for the love of Rao, she didn’t even know how he came to own it. He loved to wear plaid; a glance at their closet would let anyone know. It seemed like Mon-El had vowed to own every type of design, in every color combination. The man had somehow managed to where this shirt the night he proposed to her.

When he proposed to her. When they agreed to be one another’s, always and forever. Grow old together, maybe even have kids, grandkids. A litter of little Mon-Els and Karas. Maybe they would take up the Supergirl and Valor mantle. Maybe they would save the world. Maybe they would have had a legacy. Maybe. That was all she was left with, a bunch of maybes.

Kara was furious. Mon-El was late. She began pacing fervently with her super speed, creating a faint skid mark on her floor. All she cared about right now was for Mon-El, the love of her life (who still infuriated her), to come and knock on her door and take her on a date. There were no villains attacking National City, no aliens, no petty thieves trying their luck, and if someone decided to be brave and try something, she knew James was working tonight. All she needed right now was to enjoy her night off with her boyfriend. But with each passing second her hope diminished and her anger simply grew.            

After an hour of waiting, Kara finally gave up hope.

If she wasn’t going to enjoy her night off with Mon-El, then she would definitely spend it relaxing. Maybe draw herself a bath, catch up on her shows, or read a new book. She was going to do something.

Halfway through drawing her bath, she heard a knock on the door. Although her anger for Mon-El was still very much present, a small smile escaped her. Kara shook off the smile as she turned off the water and went to open her door. Knowing it was Mon-El, she opened the door and walked straight back into the apartment. Didn’t bother to turn around, just waited for him to speak.

"Kara. Kara. Come on. You seriously aren't mad at me, are you?" He was standing right behind her. His arms wrapped around Kara’s waist, as he placed his head in the crook of her neck. Before settling into the position he pecked her quickly on the cheek.

"I was only,” he glanced at his watch, "an hour…late." His voice faded as realization dawned on him. He was late. Super late. A brief silence enveloped them.

"But I have something planned for you, something awesome. I know you are going to love it!" He added more enthusiasm to offset the silence that had taken them, but Kara turned her head away from him, all while remaining in his embrace. Despite her frustration, removing her body from his just felt wrong.

"Kara. I’m really sorry. I was going to be here on time, I swear on Rao. But then a group of very angry biker aliens came into the bar. Biker Aliens, Kara! And a human thought it would fun to try to hustle them at the pool.  To cut a long story short, he did manage to hustle them, and they figured it out. I was chosen to clean up the mess--"

“Your shift ended at 5, so you were on clean-up duty for 2 ½ hours. Even without your super-speed, I highly doubt that was the case.”

“Well, there was something else I had to do. Just believe me, I would have been here on time. Ask Winn.”

Kara turned around, she draped her arms leisurely around his shoulders, as his fell to her waist. She was desperately trying to remain mad. But one look at his gray pleading eyes and she knew she was melting. “And how exactly can Winn vouch for you?”

“I was with him…on official DEO duty. Doing something…DEO related. For the DEO.”

“You do know that if you decide to lie, it should be a really good lie.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Official DEO duty. That’s your reason?”

“Yup.”

“With Winn.”

“Yup.”

“So if I call Alex or J’onn they can confirm?”

“Yup.” Kara raised her eyebrows. He was literally digging his grave in front of her. Kara thought about her next move. She could call Alex and J’onn and catch Mon-El in his lie, send him packing for the night, and return to her bath. Or she could ‘believe’ him, spend the night how she wished, and then catch him in his lie tomorrow. She mulled over the options, although the answer was as clear as day. The more she was thinking, the more Mon-El began to squirm in her arms.

“Okay.” She quickly pecked his lips and walked to their bedroom.

“Okay,” Mon-El repeated, slightly dumbfounded, “Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. I’m going to change,” she disappeared, and appeared in a blink of an eye. A confused look still adorned Mon-El’s face. She believed his lie. She believed his spur of the moment, completely transparent lie. Kara laughed at the state of her boyfriend. In that second, she knew that this was definitely the better option to pick. She grabbed his arm, “Come on Mon-El. I have no idea where to go. Remember, you planned all of this.”

Mon-El shook himself back into reality, “Right. Of course. I’ll lead the way.” He took Kara’s hand and led her out the door, completely forgetting to change into date-appropriate attire.

They walked down the street holding hands, silently enjoying each other’s company. Minutes passed, and they had yet to arrive at their destination. It seemed like Mon-El was taking random turns down the street, not even paying attention, just aimlessly walking around.  She stopped and dragged Mon-El back, “Mon-El where are we going? We have been walking around for ten minutes.” Mon-El just looked at her with a goofy smile, upsetting her more, “Mon-El, I am being serio—”.

Mon-El swept his arm under knees and gripped her in his arms as he super sped off.

“What are you doing Mon-El?” Kara giggled.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking you on a date.” He smiled down at her. Kara refrained from asking another question. Clearly she was going to know eventually.

They stopped at the top of a hillside, Mon-El gently putting her down as Kara took in her surroundings. Clear cut grass, masses of wildflowers and in the middle of it all, there was a picnic basket, a blanket and tons of pillows. She walked over to them, “What is all this Mon-El?”

“Our date Kara,” a grin on his face. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, “A little star-gazing. Since we both fell from there, I thought it would be nice to admire what brought us together. Mhm?”

“Yeah, that sound’s lovely,” Kara leaned in to him to place a peck right next to his mouth, “Is this why you were late? You were setting up all of this?”

“Yes,” Mon-El responded nervously, trying to hide his embarrassment. Kara didn’t need to know how irrational he was when he was setting everything up. Winn can attest to his meticulousness, since Winn spent a good two hours trying to help Mon-El find the perfect location for star-gazing, “I spent about an hour arranging all of this, from the food choice to the pillows. A perfect evening.”

They sat on the blanket, admiring the stars and the night sky as they ate, shared kisses, and talked about everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. Amidst it all, they ended up lying on the blanket, with Kara’s head tucked into the crook of his neck. She was rattling on about constellations using Mon-El’s chest to draw them out, rather than pointing at them in the sky. And all she heard from him was a ‘hum’ in response. He loved her passionate rants, so he let her ramble on about Orion and the twelve Muses, while he brushed her hair, finding peace in her embrace.

Kara ran out of stories to tell him and began to doze off, when Mon-El shocked her out of reverie, “Come on. Its time.” He helped her up as he moved to stand behind her, “For what?” Kara asked.

One arm wrapped around her waist as the other pointed to the sky, “For that Kara…” she looked up at the sky and saw a ball of glowing energy cut through it, lighting a trail as it went it along.

“Comet,” Kara spoke in awe.

“Yeah, a comet,” Mon-El turned so was facing Kara instead, “You call it Halley’s Comet,” he gazed into her eyes, and whispered something Kara couldn’t catch.  

He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs grazing them, “Yup. Comets,” he chuckled as he let out a deep sigh. “Kara Zor-El. When I met you, I was selfish, I was a coward. I was afraid and weak. But you made me a better person.  You finally gave me the courage to be who I was, and inspired me to be better.  To reach my potential. Someone who can stand next you. When I landed here I thought ‘just my luck to be stuck with a Kryptonian’. But now I couldn’t ask for a better life. Yes, we’ve had our ups and down, moments of weakness, and even moments of doubt. But every time we come back, we come back stronger. I could have landed anywhere in the universe. But fate brought me here, brought me to National City…fate brought me to you. I found someone who loves me for who I am, and I am nothing without you. The yellow sun may give me powers, but it is you that gives me strength. And with everything I am, I love you,” he paused. Trying to catch his breath, hoping he wasn’t rambling because this wasn’t the speech he rehearsed. But he looked at Kara again, her eyes were literally twinkling, a smile spread straight across her face. One glance at Kara, and it gave him this courage to continue.

Letting the tension go, he pulled a case out of his back pocket as he bent down on one knee. Kara froze, one hand over her mouth, covering a gasp that escaped when Mon-El opened the case.

He slipped his free hand into hers, “As superheroes, there will never be a guarantee of a tomorrow, but I want to spend every day I have with you. Always and Forever. So Kara, will you marry me?”

She couldn’t find her voice. She wanted to scream across the hillside, ‘YES’, but her emotions prevented a sound from coming out. Fate had brought them together, and she couldn’t thank Rao any more than she already has. She loved this man with every fiber of her being, “Kara?” Mon-El asked gently.

She nodded her head yes frantically, quietly letting out a “yes,” knowing her voice would betray her. “Yes,” she repeated louder, it came out cracked, but did it matter? Mon-El slipped the ring onto her finger, and leapt up to take her into a human-crushing hug. He moved back to capture her lips, eliciting a small moan from her. Her hands trailed up his back until they were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. She broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his, as he attempted to chase her lips.

"Always and forever?" she asks, a dopey grin stretched across her face.

"Always and forever." He answers, and proceeds to reclaim her lips.

 Kara looked at the ring on her finger. She still wore it every day. No matter what, she was going to fulfill her promise, their vow. Always and Forever. Maybe it was this mentality that prevented her from moving on. The desire to live in the past was far greater than the one to live in the lonely present. Despite the fact each memory stung her, she would rather reminisce about him a thousand times over than face her fate: a world without him.

Perhaps that was why she would wait every night, staring at the door in the hopes that he would open it? Why she placed two plates on the dining table, as if expecting him to come home exclaiming, ‘Kara...I’m Home!’ Why she would close her eyes, and hope to find two gray orbs staring at her when she opened them again? Perchance Rao would be generous to her and return her happiness? And if holding on to this hope was foolish, she would gladly embrace that mantle. She closed her eyes and reached for him; wishing, and praying that by some miracle Mon-El would be sleeping soundly next to her, alas all she could feel were the cold, empty sheets.

Kara and Mon-El stumbled into the apartment, slightly intoxicated. It was well past midnight, but their energy was still strong. Alex and Maggie had gotten married today, and Kara couldn’t be happier. Her big sister was married, she was going to get married. She was journalist, she was Supergirl, and life was good. Mon-El cut his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water to level the alcohol in his system.

“We are definitely going to have to top that,” he said. And then he chugged the glass of water. Kara watched him gulp it down, his head stretched up, exposing his neck. Her eyes trailed down to his tux, the top bottoms undone, giving a nice view of his chest. She bit her lip, her inebriation letting many dirty thoughts pass through her head. She just wanted to place a trail of kisses from the base of his neck to his sweet, supple lips.

“Kara?” she jumped out of her thoughts, Mon-El was staring at her. He asked again, “did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah. We need a big wedding. I got it,” Kara replied.

She walked to him, grabbing the glass in his hand, and drinking the rest of the water. She needed to sober up a little if she wanted the night to progress the way she desired.  “No. Not a bigger wedding, a better wedding,” Mon-El shook his head.

“Isn’t that the same thing?” she asked while staring at his lips.

He chuckled.  “No, Kara. I sometimes forget that Kryptonians didn’t know how to party. Trust this Daxamite hedonist, bigger does not mean better.” His voice sounded husky, and he sent her a wink. Kara’s cheeks flushed, the subtle innuendo didn’t escape her. His arm weaved around her, as he dipped his head to her neck, placing a kiss as he moved up to her jaw. He whispered into her ear, “Right Kara?” She couldn’t form any words, each kiss ignited a fire in her, leaving a blaze on her skin. His lips where ghosting over her cheek, Mon-El asked her again, “Kara?”

“Yes?” her voice came out so weak that Mon-El groaned.

“Oh Kara, I’ve barely even touched you,” his voice was tantalizing.

“Why don’t we fix that?” Kara’s voice was so raspy, she doubted it was her own. She crashed her lips onto Mon-El. Her hands pull-out off his coat, and then found their way back into his hair. Each kiss was stronger, fiercer as their tongues and teeth clash. Mon-El presses himself closer to her, finding any amount of distance was too much. Kara ripped the remaining buttons off his shirt and began to tug it down, but Mon-El roughly lifted her onto the counter, forcing her to stop her ministration. He stopped their kiss to look at her eyes.

“I love you,” he cupped her cheeks. Her arms locked around his back, bringing him closer so their hips were joined, her legs wrapping around his waist. She barely managed to say I love you to him before his lips descended on hers. Igniting the fire again, he slowly began kiss her neck, feasting on her skin, and only stopping the onslaught to bite it. She moaned his name, and roughly pulled him back to her lips, taking charging this time. Mon-El scooped her up, her legs still wrapped around him, and made his way to the bed.

Another sob racked her body. She just wanted to feel his presence again.  To touch him again. To feel his breath on her, to be peppered with kisses, to simply hold his hand.  The essence of him was present in every inch of their apartment. The clothes in the closet, the cookbooks in the kitchen, the hideous painting he bought, their collage of photos, his bike in the garage -- everything of his here but him.

“What happened?” Kara screeched as she entered the DEO’s hospital wing. Alex was blocking her from entering. Kara caught Mon-El lying on the hospital bed, “Is he hurt? What happened Alex?” Kara’s voice laced with dread.

Alex chose her next words carefully, trying to remain level-headed for her sister, “Kara, there was an accident and Mon-El was severely injured—“

“Just tell me what happened!”    

“He was working at the bar, and a couple of rogue aliens came in and started, I guess, a bar brawl. Mon-El was trying to save as many people, and he jumped in front of someone. Trying to protect them from a bullet. But the bullet was pure lead Kara.” Alex paused to let her sister take in the information.

Kara tried to process the information, but her mind was just focused on what looked like Mon-El’s lifeless body. She brushed past Alex and sat next to Mon-El’s bed and took his hand in hers.

“Okay. Okay.” She tried to remain calm, but a storm was brewing in her mind, “Its fine, he’ll be fine. Did you take the bullet out?”

“Yes we did, but –.”

“Thank Rao. He is going to be fine in a couple of days. You made it sound like certain death over the phone Alex. A little dramatic,” Kara chuckled.

“Kara you don’t understand. He isn’t going to be able to heal from this bullet.”

“What are you talking about? He healed from the bullet he took to his leg just fine.”

“Yes, Kara, to the leg. But this bullet, it was right by his heart. A couple of centimeters to the right, it would have been his heart!” Alex was frustrated and scared. She had to tell her little sister the worst news possible.

“But. You. Got. The. Bullet. Out. Though.” Kara hissed.

Alex sighed as leveled with her sister, “Yes. But this was by his heart Kara. His heart. In his leg, the poison couldn’t spread as much. But his heart Kara, it got a one way ticket to every inch of his body. He won’t, he can’t heal from that.”

“Then we need to find an antidote, a cure, something!” Kara’s voice could be heard down the corridor, “We can call Eliza, and you guys can figure it out. Right? Right?” She voiced dropped to a murmur as she began to register to gravity of this situation.

Alex simply shook her head, “We don’t have time or the technology. A cure could take years.”

“Then you are just going to let him die?” Kara’s words stung, but Alex knew that words were coming from a place of hurt.

“We have a plan. J’onn came up with a plan. He is deteriorating by the second. So what if placed him somewhere time doesn’t pass. And when we finally have an antidote, or a cure, we can bring him back and administer it. We can save him, if we place him in the Phantom Z—“. Alex stopped as Kara whipped her head to face her sister.

She glared at Alex, silently commanding her to stop talking. She knew what her sister was hinting at, but she didn’t need to vocalize it. It would make it too real. She gripped Mon-El’s hand tighter, “No.”

“Kara. It’s the only way he can survive,” Alex said, desperately trying to keep her voice neutral, her sister needed her to be rational, but tears began to pool in her eyes. ‘The only way he can survive.’ Those words echoed in Kara’s head, but so did ‘years’ and ‘we don’t have the technology’. How long would he be there? How long would it take? How long would she have to stay away from him? How long? This lifetime, or the next?

“No…please,” Kara whimpered. She caressed his cheek. Silently willing him to wake up, to crack a joke or, tell her it’s a prank. For Winn to burst into the room, telling them how he caught it all on camera. But his face remained stoic, and her heart began to sting, like a thousand needles were stabbing it all it once.

“Kara, the longer we wait, the less chance he has,” Alex said.

“I know. I know,” she couldn’t tear her eyes away, “just let me look at him. I just need to memorize him. Please.” Her fingers brush his jaw, sweeping across his lips, and settling in his hair, “I don’t know if I will ever --,” a sob was trapped in her throat, preventing her from finishing the sentence. She looked at her sister, imploring her to listen, “Just let me look at him,” she finally managed to breathe out.  

Alex nodded, knowing if she spoke her voice would break, and Kara didn’t need that right now. She left the room, letting them have this moment.

“I love you so much.”  She waited, hoping Mon-El would open his eyes, and tell her that he loved her as well. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. Holding it there as time ceased to exist for her, “I love you with everything I have, forever and always,” she whispered against his forehead. Kara drank in the moment, the last one she would share with him. Praying to Rao for him to wake up, even for a moment. That’s all she needed right now. One moment to stare into his eyes. To hear him speak one last time. She wasn’t asking for a miracle, just a moment.

She heard movement behind her, and she knew her time was up. She swept down to place a longing kiss on his lips. Now praying to Rao that he will come back to her. Someone pulled her off his body, she didn’t know who, and all she could look at was Mon-El, using these last seconds to commit him to memory. Everything else was just white noise now. She stood in the background as he was wheeled away, following behind like a lost puppy. J’onn took command and she watched her surroundings like she was in movie. Nothing felt real, but the heaviness in her heart told her otherwise. As she heard Winn and J’onn talk about logistics she knew she didn’t want to be here. Every sympathetic glance at her pierced her heart. Kara thought she could watch him be sent to the Phantom Zone, thought she was strong enough. But any strength she had, Mon-El took with him. ‘The yellow sun may give me powers, but you are my strength’. No, she couldn’t be here.

Should she go back to her home, to her empty apartment and empty bed? She could go to Alex’s, but she didn’t need to feel like a burden. Should she just fly the skies? Go to work? Where could she go? Her mind settled onto one spot. The Hillside. She sat there staring at the stars, she sat there staring for what felt like an eternity. He was up there somewhere, frozen in time completely unaware. And she was down here, where each moment felt like death.

The ache in Kara’s heart doubled over, she grasped the shirt harder, hoping the memory would stop. She raised herself from the bed and, removing her shirt, slipped on his. She embraced the shirt, silently yearning for less agonizing memories to surface. She settled back onto the bed, facing away from the empty spot. The spot scorned her, it mocked her, and it served as painful reminder. She stared at the clock again, as another tear slipped down her cheek.

It was only 1:42.

shoutout to @gldngrl7 for beta-ing my story. Thank You! 

Thank you guys for reading! Sorry for the angst (not sorry)! Hope you enjoyed it! 

[seductivebeaut]

#FeedingDemons With @FeralTormentor

Frankie Loveridge, SeductiveBeaut: {My hands pinned above my head, each blow to my face blurred my vision. This 20 stone man that had me pinned beneath him was kicking my ass, fighting with everything I had, squirming, trying to attempt to shake him off.. how the hell had this happened. I must admit I'd been drowning for a while. My focus off, the darker side of me becoming less satisfied with each hit I did. I could feel the downward spiral taking hold. The next blow that struck was harder than the others combined, or at least that's how it felt as his knuckles bounced off my swelling cheek. But luckily for me the heavy swing threw him off balance, his hand stupidly releasing my wrists to stop himself from falling but it gave me just enough time to slip my hand in my boot, gripping the blade. I think this was the fight or flight moment.. but the second he gave me that opportunity that dark side took a firm hold. Within the blink of an eye I had sliced his throat, his blood spurting over my face just before he collapsed on top of me. 8 days had past since my run in with the big guy. The swelling had gone down and only a yellow bruise remained. My split lip was almost healed too. Finally spotting the car from my position on top of the fire station, I lined up my sight as it pulled up outside the town hall. With a feather light touch, I settle my finger on the trigger. The door opens and my target steps out.. taking in a deep breath, I take my aim, releasing it slowly as I gently squeeze the trigger. This was my second hit of the day and I couldn't stop the satisfied smile that claimed my lips as I watched the target hit the floor. I quickly started to pack away and get on the road, I had another hit in the next town over. 25 days in and all the hits kinda blurred into one.. takedown after takedown. I was averaging around 8 kills a week, and I wanted more.. Viv had set up a steady stream of hits to me. This guy that stood in front of me screamed and begged as I brutally shoved my thumbs into his eyes. Feeling them give under the pressure. Pulling them out wiping the goo on my jeans before I reach for my gun and shoot him between the eyes.. or not anymore.. As his body hit the floor the silence that remained was deafening. I stood over his now lifeless body for a moment.. wondering how long this could go on for.. if i was honest.. I was nowhere near ready to stop.} Stefan Salvatore, FeralTormentor: [If there was one thing I had learned over the expanse of my lifetime then it's that Mystic Falls -- is too small, especially when the flip has been switched. Far too many pesky humans sticking their nose in other people's business, eager to reconnect me with humanity. Buzzkill the lot of them. With my latest dance with the devil, I left town. I'd feed the hunger within me, my demons were inevitable. The only thing there was to do was to give into them. For months I drifted from to town, taking what I wanted, who I wanted. Killing on nothing but a whim. What did I care for the human condition? They were born screaming and I would ensure they would die screaming too. Covering my tracks at times, only to prevent someone from my past tracking my movements. The past was done with, I had no use for any of them anymore. Nights were spent in a blood and liquor induced haze. If the victim drank just the right amount then I'd have the pleasure of tasting it myself while I mercilessly fed. Nobo kills were so artfully pre-planned, I was a hunter, enslaved to my unwavering desire for blood. Drawing the pad of a thumb across my blood stained lower lip, gathering up the last droplets to savour the thrill of my latest kill. Booted feet shuffled silently across the floor, leaving the girls remains in the alley, she had torn just like paper, for some poor soul to find when dawn broke. Each step became more purposeful, there was a name to add to a wall. No sense in hunting any longer, even the stragglers would be fucks up in bed by now. The silence of the night broken by the sound of a struggle, lips pulling back to reveal a sly grin. It seemed there was still fun to be had. Scaling the fire escape of the nearest building, I followed the sound of the struggle, what better way to view a fight than from higher ground. The night sky was clear, leaving the stars overhead visible to all, such a clear night brought a chill to the air, not that such a thing bothered myself. Open palms pressed against the roofs edge, an emerald gaze falling to the blonde bellow, battling a guy who’s stature easily towered over her own. Nasal passengers filled with the scent of blood, his or hers? I didn't know. I didn't care, my only interest here laid at the feet of the victor. Blood filled with adrenaline… Hmm, now that always went down nicely. As the two man war raged on below it was becoming difficult not to appreciate the brutality of the blonde. It spoke to the darkness I held within. A darkness that until now had thrived alone. Thumbs removed the man's ability to see before a single shot rang out, sending him straight to hell. If I was to act on my hunger then now would be the time. Feet however refused to move, to kill such a dark beauty would be a crime, especially when there was fun to be had. Company was something I had lacked for a long time, not yet ready to introduce myself, I tailed the blonde first from the roof and then from the shadows below. I wanted to see just how dark she was willing to go] Frankie Loveridge, SeductiveBeaut: {I finally move, reaching to grab the collar of my latest victim's shirt. I drag his body a few yards and an odd feel creeps in. Releasing his collar. I allow my gaze to scan my surrounding briefly. My bottom lip juts out as I shrug a single shoulder.} You're losing it Frankie. {Securing my grip in this guy's clothing once again I drag the dead weight to my Truck. I'd put the Aston Martin in storage in Ohio I think. It was not practical so I got something that fit a little better. Dropping the tailgate and pulling back the cover. I fight with a bag of muscle and bone until he is in position. Shutting it all back up I jump in the truck and head to the little cabin I intended to crash at, it was literally 15 minutes away. Grabbing a dusty glass off the side I pour myself a large whiskey. Tilting the glass and it's contents down my throat in a couple of gulps. I set the glass on the sable top and hissed, shaking my head as the burn warmed me. Walking towards the door, I pick up a set of overalls and a hacksaw before heading out to the truck. I pause on the dilapidated porch and slide each leg into the overalls and push my arms through the sleeves. Taking the 3 steps off the porch I open the back of the truck and drag the guy off watching as his body slumps against the ground. With the same process, I drag him out back to a tin shack of a garage. After an hour this guy was limbless and I was beat, all I needed to do now was toss the parts onto a fire and then I could pass out before another day of hits. But first the fire. I rub my forehead with the back of my hand and head out, It shouldn't take too long seen as I was smack bang in the middle of small woodlands.} Stefan Salvatore, FeralTormentor: [Seeing the blonde drag the lifeless corpse along behind her was entertaining, clearly she cared for the clean up. Why else go to all that effort. As her svelte physique turned back I stepped further into the shadows where no human vision would ever pick up upon my presence. The tricky part came when she made a beeline for a truck, my own mode of transport a few blocks away, parked outside the place I had claimed as my latest place of residence. A darkened gaze swept out, weighing up my options, finally settling on one of the run down vehicles beside the curb. It would have to do. I waited until the truck and the mysterious blonde was nothing but tail lights before stepping out of the shadows and proceeding to break into the car. The task in itself was simple enough and hot wiring the engine had become child's play for me a long time ago. Tailing the blonde at a safe distance, if she saw me now then the plan I was beginning to build up in my mind would never see it's why to fruition. Pulling the car into one of the hedges at the side of the road I stepped out, deciding it was better to go the rest of the way on foot. Booted feet met the ground silently, shoulders hunched forward while attempting to make myself as inconspicuous as I possibly could. Thick brows rose in mild surprise as I drew up to an old cabin, I wouldn't have pegged the woman as the cabin type] What other secrets are you hiding? [Mumbling to myself. I'd reached the cabin just in time to see the woman drag the body around back. Jogging forward to catch up I found an old building around back. Unable to slip inside without making myself known there was little else for me to do, other than settle outside and listen to what was happening within. Being no stranger to the removal of limbs, although my victims tended to still be alive at this point, it didn't take me long to piece together exactly what was going on. Lips lifted into a sly smile, arms rising to fold at my chest following the approach of footsteps. The door swung outwards, hiding my broad frame from sight. The scent of blood once again making nasal passages its home] Tsk, who's been naughty. [Tone low and husky as the blonde moved past without noticing me. Hikes a brow, my head canting to one side while I await her reaction. My hearing focused in upon her heartbeat. The last thing she would be expecting would be company and mine was sure to be unwelcomed] Frankie Loveridge, SeductiveBeaut: {I made a b-line for the outskirts of the woodland. Only to freeze in place as the low tone meets my ears. My hand slowly moves behind me as I force myself turn towards the voice.} You have no Idea. {My gaze scanning the dark surroundings. A small stream of light that just made out the outline of the figure, I could make out it was a guy, his broad shoulders, prominent in the silhouette the crack of light cast over him. Pulling a small concealed blade from holster attached to my belt, taking a small step towards them.} If you're here to kill me, let's get this over with, I'm a busy girl you know. {My tone was firm and confident, not give away how I really felt, but internally I was thrown off guard, this was a safe house, how on earth did they find it for starters.} Stefan Salvatore, FeralTormentor: [Listening to the way in which her heartbeat picked up, undoubtedly pounding against her rib cage, she’d been running on pure adrenaline for hours now and the effects were wearing off] Oh I have an idea. More of an idea than you realize. [Leisurely footsteps brought me out from the shadows and into what little light the night sky had to offer. It wouldn't be enough for her to see my features clearly but it would be enough to afford her a better picture than the one she had] You intending to gut me Blondie? [Tongues tip, grazing across a lower lip, arms hang in loosely at my sides] Where's the fun in that? Not to mention.. [The sentence trailing off as I took the final step forward, a large hand gripping at the wrist of the hand that held the impressive blade, before she had a chance to react I pulled against her arm forcing her forward until the blade slid into my gut like butter, a small wince my only reaction. For months now I had drunk nothing but human blood, building up not only my strength but my tolerance for pain] ..I'm a lot harder to kill than your friend in there. [Hand released her wrist and returned to my side, while a gaze shifted momentarily to the shack behind me] So, what's it gonna be? Fun or messy? Frankie Loveridge, SeductiveBeaut: {As he spoke he stepped forward and I was on full alert. I almost relaxed when he said about an idea but in my line of work that could mean anything. I stood tall and pushed my shoulders back defensively as he drew closer.} What kind of idea? {With a tilt of my head my curiosity is peaked as my gaze roams over his muscular frame before returning to meet his own.} If you give me a reason too, I won't hesitate. {The confusion was real, was this guy gonna hire me.. kill me.. torture was an option to.} Wait fun? {The second he took that step closer my grip tightens around the hilt, but just as quickly his large hand grasped my wrist. I was about to fight back but he pulled my arm that held the blade, the muscle sliced as he drives it into his torso. I stumble forward and my hand reaches out, gripping his arm to steady myself. Glancing down at the blade then back up at him.} Vampire. I should have known. {His hand move from my wrist, i waste no time in pulling the blade from his torso, my other hand falls from his shoulder. I take a step back and wipe the blood from my blade on my thigh, staining the overalls I had on. I allow a small silence to follow before finally breaking it.} Can't it be both? {My lips curl into a sadistic smile.} I mean it's not fun if you don't get a little messy right? {Turning my back on the stranger, I head towards the woodland to grab the firewood, to finish the job i had started and burn that body.} Stefan Salvatore, FeralTormentor: [Dark pulsating veins webbed out beneath lower lids as incisors lengthen and sharpened, allowing the girl before me to get a look at the monster that lurked just beneath the surface. The self inflicted wound at my abdomen already healed] Mhmm, you really should have. [I hid my mild surprise beneath a toothy grin, it would appear the blonde was more versed in the supernatural than I first would have expected and the chances were if she knew of vampires then she would also know of vervain. Oh well, it all still worked in my favour, there was always more fun to be had when compulsion wasn't at play. Tipping my head forth in an agreeable nod at the last statement, girl had more fire in her than she showed. A trait I could easily show appreciation for, but maybe not just yet... Arms brought once more to cross at my chest, backing up once more into the shadows, blondie had a job to do and I wasn't the type for manual labour, not when I could slip inside the shack to appreciate the handy work of one so young. The game would continue upon her return..] Frankie Loveridge, SeductiveBeaut: {It had taken an hour to gather enough wood to build a fire big enough to burn the body, but it was worth it. Although, the whole time I wondered what idea this vampire had, I saw him continue to lurk the whole time. I mean what did he want with a twisted girl like me.. I’m sue if he wanted me dead, he’d have attempted it or succeeded by now. Heading back inside the shack I stuff the body parts into a sack, dragging it from the shed to just in front of the fire. Once the bonfire was lit and the flames lapped the wood, hungrily and one by one, I threw the mangled chunks of my last victim into the centre of it. The warm, amber glow consuming my concentration. Finally snapping myself from my daze, not quite sure where he had gotten to at this point. So I spoke hoping those keen senses he possessed worked in my favour.} So, idea, huh? I’ll grab the whiskey, and you can tell me more. {Turning on my heel I head back into the cabin for a brief moment to fetch two glasses and a bottle and head back outside to the fire, taking a seat on one of the old tires strewn about the area.} Stefan Salvatore, FeralTormentor: [A hooded gaze followed the retreating figure of the blonde with mild interest, knowing the task she was about to take care of and having little desire to help. Booted feet met the earth below silently, leaving what little light the sky overhead allowed to duck inside the shack. Nasal passages once again assaulted by the stench of blood, the place was filled with it. The interior resembling that of a one man massacre, this woman's style was something to not only be appreciated but also moulded into something greater. With someone such as myself at her side who knew what she could become. A forefinger traced the smooth cut at the neck, neater than any pieces I tended to leave behind. Then again I didn't tend to deal in power tools. Snorting to myself at the image such an idea conjured within the depths of my mind. I had no idea how long I had been appreciating her handy work when the silence was broken by approaching steps and laboured breath. No matter, I simply became one with the shadows of the night again. Leaving the blood soaked shack without her even noticing. Curious as to my location, that was a given, yet if I wanted to watch this mysterious woman who walked a dangerous path then it was best to do so from afar. In truth people such as us tended to work better alone.. at least for a little while. Eyes trailed upon her every move, almost robotic. Her soft features, now lit by the soft glow of the bonfire, were void of emotion. Lips twitched at the mention of liquor. Woman was smart, smart enough to realise I wasn't done with her just yet. Approaching the fire, only once she had disappeared inside the cabin, perching upon one of the upended logs] What would you like to know? [An emerald gaze cast briefly in her direction before returning to the lapping flames once more] Frankie Loveridge SeductiveBeaut {My gaze lost on the flames for a moment, my mind raced with the past few hours. I knew I felt, saw someone earlier, before I met him. I set the bottle firmly between my knees and twist the cap off, my other hand balancing both glasses, placing the cap between my teeth and gripping the bottle securely I fill our glasses.. The whole process repeated as I secure the lid back on the bottle before handing this guy one. I pondered his question as I swirl the liquor around the bottom of the glass before glancing over at him} Everything, I mean.. You must want something from me, I’m alive.. {Glancing down at the glass.} So, I figure you want me alive for a reason. You just watched me pop some guys eyes in and then chop and burn the bastard body. {Finally bringing the glass to parted lips I knock back the liquor.} So.. something tells me, you’re either as twisted as I am, or you just like being all creepy lurker around blondes. {A small twitch of amusement briefly curled my my lips. Blowing out a slow breath as I feel the heat of the whiskey Warm my chest} Why don’t you tell me everything. {There was nothing in my features, no fear, no curiosity. I felt numb, like I had for months now, but there was a twinge that pulled at my insides and that was there is a small chance this guy was similar to me, in some sense. Plus, something told me that this could actually turn out to be an adventure, but I wasn’t going to get ahead of myself. I mean, when did that ever happen. Reaching for the bottle once again, I refill my glass, and offer him another.} I’m Frankie by the way.

[reesesxxpieces-blog]

Spencer James “I don’t know how it happened.  Try as I may to stop it, it didn’t work.  I did everything I knew how to in order to keep it from taking him, but there was nothing.  There was nothing I could do.  Time swept him up into her arms and carried him forth to a place that I could not reach him.  If I could have slowed time just a little bit, I would have done it.  To have just one more day the way that it was.  To hold him just one more minute longer.  But time was cruel and she saw my eagerness to hold on and like a villain from a Disney movie, she sped it up.  She made me move a little slower while he moved a little faster.  She sent me out into the world and allowed it to happen while I wasn’t even looking.  Then when I was looking, it was moving so fast that I could not change the trajectory for it was already set in motion.  I set it in motion.  I … I made him do it.

Rhys John James.  Thank God no one has ever called you R.J. or I think your poor mother would lose her wits.  No.  You are my Rhyster.  Your father’s Rhysies Peeces.  Your brother’s ‘Ees.  You were causing waves through the world before you were even born.  Creating ripple effects that would go on past your first year and only time, the cruel mistress that she is, will know just when the ripple will stop.  Your father and I seemed to know early on that you would do great things, that you would leave your footprint on the face of this world, only we didn’t know you’d do it before you’d taken your first breath of fresh air.

It is through you that I’ve learned how to be a mother.  I didn’t know how.  It didn’t come with a handbook and I promise you there are times that I need one.  But you’ve always found a way to let us know what you needed.  But now, as I hold you in my arms, rocking you in a rocking chair that your legs now touch the edges of, I know that this time will be limited as well and your needs for me will be constantly changing.  I don’t like it.  I don’t like that you’re walking and babbling.  I don’t like that you are taking this independence so soon, but I know that you have to.  I know that my mother… my mother surely felt this very same way when she held me in this same place years ago.  I am sure that she looked down into my face while I slept in her arms and she begged me not to grow up so fast.  I didn’t listen any better than you are going to listen and no better than one day your own child will listen.

But I’m not ready for you to go out there yet.  I may not have ever done this all before, but I know what it is going to look like.  You’re going to need me less and less until you don’t need me at all.  And yes, I know, you’re literally a year old today and that’s a long way off, but you see, I thought this was a long way off, and it wasn’t.  It happened in the blink of an eye.  I swear I turned around for one minute and you were a year old.  Feeding yourself from plates of finely chopped food where once upon a time, we had to hold your bottle for you.  Dancing with your brother as you hold onto the edge of the sofa, just wanting to do it like he does.  Reaching out for Scrappy’s ear and holding on until he pulls you from the edge of the sofa just because you want to love on him.  Your heart is big, Rhys James.  I see it on the rare occasion that your brother cries and you stop everything to see if he’s alright.  I see it when you reach for his hand in the car and he reaches for yours.  I see it when you hold your father and you rub his shoulder just like we rub your back.  

And just because I see all the good in all of it, in all of you, it doesn’t make me any more ready for this than I was yesterday or the day before that.  I’m not ready for it.  And I don’t know if you are.  But I promise you this, we’ll do it together.  Every step of the way, I’ll be there, right by your side.  I’ll help you up when you fall down and I’ll hold you close when the world is too big.  My lap will never be off limits to you, even when I know that you will be far taller than I am.  I will still hold you in my lap should you want me to and I will still kiss you on your forehead and tell you that your mommy loves you.  Even once you are a grown man, I will be there for you in every way possible.  

So, it’s two hours away.  In exactly two hours, you will be one years old.  I’m not going to be ready then either, but happy birthday, sweet boy.  Your momma loves you.”  Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she placed him into his bed, secretly hoping he’d wake up before 10:57, yet she could never be sure, wanting to see those eyes just one more time before they were a full year old.  But as she left the room, she knew that the first year was over and her little boy wasn’t quite so little anymore.  As her heart was breaking, she’d go straight for John there in the hallway where she buried her face in his chest, hands tensing in his shirt there at his sides, sobbing as she had held it all in within that room, needing now to just let it out.  For her son.  For her mother.  For herself.

Johnny William Knowing it was coming as the woman found him in the hallway. Though he looked as if he shouldn't even be standing, he'd be there to receive her. Black eye, busted lip, broken ribs and all. Arms slipping around her shoulders as he wouldn't attempt to tell her anything. To tell her she was wrong for feeling this way or the next. No, he'd simply hold her as his arms swept her shoulders. Lips resting to her temple with various kisses being pressed there anytime it felt opportune before resting his chin to the top of her head. Hand to the back of her head as he gently scratched his fingers to her scalp. Doing all he knew how to do for the woman. "You going to wake him with me when it's time?"

Spencer James In truth, there had been doubt that John would be home for Rhys' birthday, but she should have known better. This man wouldn't have missed it for the world. As she came into him there in the hall, her tears were thick and heavy, held back for too long as she had been going through the motions of everything relatively well considering and then all at once it would all just hit her. She had already known that Rhys' birthday would be difficult, as she'd felt it welling within her for weeks ahead of time. But she'd be surprised in the sudden need to fall apart over not just him, but her mother. She'd cried when the news came in and a few times since, but speaking to Rhys so candidly, mentioning her mother casually, it had taken her by surprise for a moment there. These tears were three fold and thus they'd fall just as heavy as they were. Feeling the kisses he'd offer her, knowing the pain he was surely in, yet he was being there for her, she heard his question a moment later. Nodding her head briefly, even through her tears, knowing she didn't want to, but knowing she did want to all at the same time as there was no stopping time. It was happening, with or without her permission, just like everything else that took place around them. "I bought him a little cake," she confessed through her tears, a serving for one that he could tear into and eat with his hands, destroying it at his own free will with the assurance of a bath afterwards. A cake at 10:57 pm would become a part of this boys life for all of the days of her own and hopefully beyond even that. But it would start tonight, along with whatever John might have in mind there to contribute, but knowing that was the one thing she wanted to start here this night and carry forth with, come hell or high water.

Johnny William Watching her nod as he reached up to wipe one stream of tears in particular as he heard her confession. "Which works because I bought some ice cream." he stated honestly. "Little bit of cake for the rest of us too. Figured River is going to have a hissy fit if he doesn't get anything." he confessed honestly as he could only imagine what the woman was going through. All he could do was try to be there for her though he had no idea how to even begin. Lips finding her forehead as he inhaled evenly. All he knew how to do at this point was to keep breathing and moving past all the thoughts swarming both her head and his.

Spencer James As he confessed to his own contributions, she lifted her face from where it was at his chest, forever looking to bury herself into him when she was upset like this, finding his to be the perfect match for her own. Nodding her head, she agreed to it as he wiped the stream of tears from one side of her face. Not confessing which words in that room had done this to her as it had been a combination of them, but certain ones holding the biggest gut punch. Feeling the kiss to her forehead, she gently wrapped her arms around his midsection, still not comfortable with the fact that he was in pain and held more bruises that were not from her, but thankful at this point that he was there, with her and the boys, and for all intents and purposes, alright.

Johnny William Going for the other side of her face as he drew off her tears. Feeling her arms wrapped around him far more gently than usual as if she'd break him though he knew himself not to be so easily defeated. Much less by his wife's grip of him as he said nothing. Having nothing left and willing to let her just feel it all out.

Spencer James It would take another five minutes in that hallway just like that before she'd finally draw back slightly from him, time ticking away and their sons last hours before his first birthday was official dwindling away with her tears. Lifting her head, she'd meet his eyes, her hand lifting to the side of his face where she'd gently place her hand where her fingertips neared the edge of his blackened eye. "You though?" she asked, transitioning from herself to him before they'd jointly move back to the boys again with a late night wake up for the both of them thanks to Rhys' delivery time. "Are you in a lot of pain? I'm so fucking scared to touch you right now and I'm just not used to it," she offered in truth, explaining her gentle touches as she couldn't bear the thought of hurting him in that manner.

Johnny William Not sure what she was asking as his brows would mildly furrow. Perhaps not as severe as usual but notable enough as she asked her question. "No." he stated simply, as it all didn't seem so bad in comparison of what his brother got. Matter of fact, it seemed downright lucky. "You don't have to be scared to touch me." he assured her no matter how true it was or was not.

Spencer James With no choice but to take the man at his word, she'd do just that, but her touch would remain softer than usual until he literally forced her hand. Slipping her hand down from the side of his face to find his hand, she drew a breath and glanced towards the staircase. "I think there are some balloons in the kitchen drawer that I can blow up for him. Think he'd like having them to play with throughout tomorrow and maybe even the next day so long as we watch the boys with them," she offered, knowing the suffocation hazard of such things and not willing to have another ambulance at their house that week.

-May 31, 2017