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cyclopstm · 3 years ago

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DISABILITY && MENTAL HEALTH

This post will cover items such as disabilities, mental health, PTSD and trauma in relation to Scott. These are things which are either canon for him, or headcanons I want to pay more attention to on my blog.

I do not have any personal experience with any of the items I will address in this post, which means that most (if not all) of my information is gained through reading and research online. If there are items I missed out on or have described incorrectly, you may contact me about this to kindly help me figure out a new/better way to put things into words. It’s in no way my intention to upset anyone, or bring forth wrong information.

To me, it just feels like Scott is a good opportunity to improve the representation of characters and people who deal with visual impairment because the narrative that disability is binary caused that most blind characters in popular media have no vision at all. Blind characters in heroic roles like Daredevil, have powers that completely compensate for their blindness while blind people who don’t have these compensations are usually portrayed as helpless.

As a team leader and a superhero, Scott offers a good opportunity to include people who are visually impaired, yet often ignored or left out of the heroic narrative.

Needless to say, do NOT reblog this post && don’t interact with it if you’re not a RP blog.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS : 1. Scott’s brain trauma and injury 2. Scott’s PTSD during his youth 3. Symptoms and signs of PTSD for Scott 4. Scott is (legally) blind 5. Scott cannot distinguish colours 6. How Scott deals with his visual impairment 7. The X-Mansion and dealing with trauma 8. Additional notes

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1. SCOTT’S BRAIN TRAUMA AND INJURY When Scott was a young boy, he went on a travel with his parents and his little brother Alex. The family’s private jet was ambushed by an alien Shi’ar scouting ship. The boys lost their parents on that unfortunate day and in the crash, Scott took a hit to the head after his mutant powers manifested for the first time and allowed Scott to break his fall and allow him and Alex to survive. The head injury Scott suffered on that day would permanently disable the part of Scott’s brain which would have enabled him to control his optic blasts. Additionally, Scott (as well as Alex) suffered traumatic amnesia regarding the accident. Unlike his brother, Scott was forced to remain hospitalized for up to a year.

As a teenager, Scott began to suffer from severe headaches and he was sent to a specialist (Mr. Sinister in disguise) who provided him with lenses made of ruby-quartz. Scott’s mutant power erupted from his eyes as an uncontrollable blast of optic force and the only means to control it ever since have been the ruby-quartz lenses Sinister gave him. Sinister knew the lenses would help due to experiments and research he had been doing on the boy while Scott lived at the orphanage where Sinister had feigned being the owner.

2. SCOTT’S POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER DURING HIS YOUTH After losing his parents and waking up alone at the hospital after the plane crash, Scott was placed in the State Home for Foundlings, an orphanage in Omaha (Nebraska) where he was subjected to batteries of tests and experiments by the orphanage’s owner, Mr. Milbury (alias, Mr. Sinister). He placed mental blocks on Scott and took on the role of ‘Lefty’, who was Scott’s roommate and bully at the orphanage. During his time spent at the orphanage, Scott was subjected to several occasions which would leave him traumatized — such as the attempt of one of the other orphaned boys at taking his own life, and Scott’s failed attempt at saving him. Any time anyone came close to adopting Scott, Sinister intervened.

At some point, Scott demolished a crane with his optic blast, by accident. He had saved a crowd of people by using his blast again to destroy the crane before it would crush the people, but they believed he was out to kill them and chased the young mutant boy. Scott woke the attention of a mutant criminal who sought to use Scott’s powers in his crimes, but abused the kid when Summers refused. At that time, he had also attracted the attention of Charles Xavier who tracked down Scott and took him in as the first of his team of X-Men...

3. SYMPTOMS OF SCOTT’S PTSD — Reliving the traumatic event (during his childhood) :: as a boy, Scott was fond of airplanes and dreamed of becoming a pilot himself one day. But when he was taken to an air show by one of the orphanage’s nurses, he had a violent traumatic reaction in the middle of the show, reciting things he otherwise doesn’t consciously remember. — Negative Thoughts and Feelings :: Scott often deals with feelings of anger, guilt, fear or numbness. He’s prone to blame himself for things going wrong on missions with the X-Men. When someone comes to pass, he’s quick to take up responsibility and the blame for it, and occasionally even deals with survivor’s guilt. Scott also feels cut off from his friends and family and hardly keeps much interest for day-to-day activities. He hardly does them to relax, but rather only when they become necessary. — Avoidance :: Scott feels like he has to keep busy at all times, he doesn’t want to think or talk about anything in relation to his past, feels emotionally cut off from his feelings, struggles to express his emotions or affection towards others and thus comes across as numb and cold and very serious and occasionally does risky things which could be self-destructive or reckless. He’s often the first in line to sacrifice himself for the X-Men not only because he’s their leader, but also because he has little to no value for his own life. — Disturbed sleep and lack of sleep. — Taking risks and hypervigilance. — Intrusive thoughts. — Nightmares. — Trust issues. — “No one understands.”-mentality. — The sense of never being at peace.

4. SCOTT IS (LEGALLY) BLIND While Scott was born with perfectly normal eyesight, and perfect vision, he no longer has the ability to see without his ruby-quartz lenses ever since his optic blasts came to manifest. Only ruby-quartz can keep the optic blasts under control, meaning that any other means of vision such as regular glasses or lenses would not be of help for Scott. Scott literally can’t see without his ruby-quartz shades. Opening his eyes would prove incredibly destructive to his nearest surroundings.

Someone who is completely blind can’t see any light or form. Of the people with eye disorders, only about 15% can see nothing at all. If you’re legally blind, you can still see, just not that clearly. Normal vision is 20/20. That means you can clearly see an object 20 feet away. If you’re legally blind, your vision is 20/200 or less in your beter eye or your field of vision is less than 20 degrees.

In addition to being unable to distinguish colors due to the red tint in his glasses, they also reduce his low-light vision, which means Scott deals with low vision.

5. SCOTT CANNOT DISTINGUISH COLOURS I’m not using the term colorblindless in this post for the main reason that Google gives me too many search results in relation to racism, and I do not intend to use a term that has a double meaning that could be taken the wrong way.

Scott’s ruby-quartz lenses cause him to see the world through a veil of red. The lenses are tinted in red which alters Scott’s general, every day perception of the world. He sees the world in shades of grey, white, black and red and can no longer distinguish any other colours. Maybe rather than ‘colourblindness’, Scott deals with something alike to monochromacy. Though, Scott’s monochromacy is perhaps not of a kind that has been officially diagnosed in real life cases before.

The comics and movies rarely acknowledge Scott’s eyesight aside from him claiming to have an ‘eye condition’ as an excuse for him to wear sunglasses all the time. Scott’s adaptations to being unable to distinguish different colours would be mostly rather subtle and maybe it doesn’t inherently add onto the story a comic book or movie wants to tell, but they shouldn’t be ignored in how I wish to bring Scott in my writing...

6. HOW SCOTT DEALS WITH HIS VISUAL IMPAIRMENT — High contrast text and browser extensions for reading. — Color coding his outfits. He labels them with what color they are and organizes his closet by items that go together. — As a prodigy at billiards, Scott has a special billiards set adjusted to his specific needs. — Large prints for letters, books, digital fonts, etc. — Increased brightness on any of his devices’ screens. — Assistance from ‘self-driving’ tech when flying the Blackbird or riding his motorcycle. He knows the majority of controls through muscle memory by now. — Assistive technology to improve contrast, especially at night. — Scott owns a touch-based Rubik’s Cube. — Help from his closest friends.

7. THE X-MANSION AND DEALING WITH TRAUMA Scott and Ororo both (among others), are hyper aware of the traumas some of their students have experienced. They recognize behaviours and reactions in trauma survivors because they have been in such a position themselves as well. They made sure the school has a clear set of rules and policies on the safety and comfort of students. The school faculty received training in mental health first aid, there’s places students can retreat to when they feel anxious or suffer from power meltdown.

People like Scott, Jean and Rogue would know how to handle students who have gone through different types of abuse. As trauma survivors themselves, they’d take extra steps to reassure students who have every reason to distrust adults. They would announce themselves when approaching students from behind, maintain wide personal space bubbles and refrain from initiating physical contact such as hugs or touching students without asking them first. They see there’s no use in raising your voice to the kids, and won’t tollerate any kind of jokes about trauma. Scott is rumoured to be very strict on the rules of the house concerning mental health.

8. ADDITIONAL NOTES While Scott is aware that there is no shame in any of what he deals with every day, he still keeps it under wraps a lot. He doesn’t ever want for his visual impairment or his trauma to become his only and main personality trait other people associate with him. This is why a lot of people may not even know that he is dealing with these things on the daily. He’s very subtle about everything and only those who get to know him better may begin to see and notice things which indicate that he’s disabled. Scott has grown so adjusted to living with his disabilities that they commonly no longer cause him trouble.

The only people who know Scott is visually impaired because he told them himself are Charles (confidant and father-figure), Jean (lover, the person he maybe trusts more than anyone else), Hank (as the resident scientist), Ororo (as his fellow team leader) and Emma Frost (as his therapist).

Scott has been able to take therapy sessions with Charles during his early years, and later on with Emma Frost. Jean has also helped him an incredibly great deal on coping with his trauma and PTSD, lack of self-esteem and dealing with his emotions and expressing them more openly.

To this day, Scott still suffers from migraines and occasional moments of memory loss. His brain injury does not always allow him to maintain or store knowledge accurately. His migraines are a result of his optic blast building up surplus energy. When Scott can’t use his optic blast regularly, he will build up a surplus energy which manifests into migraines.

#( META. )#( SAVED. )#tw ptsd #tw mental health #tw disability #tw trauma #tw abuse

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her0brine · 4 years ago

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Here’s the follow up to my Steve headcanon post, it’s everything for Herobrine! (It’s absolutely massive so buckle up :’))

* Steve and Herobrine are the SAME person. No, Steve does not have a case of D.I.D., but it is more of a surreal supernatural state in which when Steve receives any sort of fatal damage to his body, they fully black out and Herobrine seems to ‘take over’ their body.

* As for Herobrine’s appearance when ‘taking over’, it is nearly identical to Steve’s appearance, minus the obvious difference of having solid white eyes, as they have a total lack of a iris or pupil. Also, it seems that the already mesomorphic-like physique Steve has seems to get slightly augmented in terms of suddenly gaining more muscle mass when Herobrine is ‘active’, so they look somewhat even more buff and stereotypically hypermasculine.

* Herobrine’s eyes can glow, as their natural state emits a very faint pure-white glow. If in low-light conditions, the brightness of their eyes seem to get stronger, depending on how dark the surroundings really are. If they become agitated however to a certain degree, their eyes can become legitimately blinding to any living thing that even just glances at them.

* Their body feels stone cold if you were to touch it, as if they’re really just a living human corpse. Their blood doesn’t even seem to flow properly under their veins, and it looks somewhat coagulated if it bleeds out of them if drastically injured.

* Usually when Herobrine ‘wakes up’, it’s right after Steve experiences death, and Herobrine is thrust back into whatever deadly situation that caused Steve to die in the first place. There has been many times where Herobrine woke up to see that they’re currently being eaten alive by zombies or their flesh is fully charred from falling headfirst into a lava pit. Some of the less ‘annoying’ situations that they wake up in are being miles under the ocean with their lungs full of seawater, or waking up in the middle of the woods with their body being riddled with arrows and lying down in a puddle of their own blood and vomit, or waking up to see that they’re at the bottom of a abandoned mine’s pit with severely broken or fully shattered legs.

* Herobrine’s pain tolerance is absolutely ungodly. You can essentially cut any of their limbs off and he won’t even flinch, as the mere sensation of pain to them is literally nonexistent. However, having the inability to feel pain also means they’re eventually unable to feel ANYTHING at all. Even when walking on firm ground, they can’t even feel their own feet being in contact with it. They’re in a eternal state of feeling ‘loose’ from the world, as they don’t feel physically bound to anything. Even when they try touching or holding items, it feels like they’re grasping at thin air.

* Even though they can still receive physical damage to their body, any lost or injured flesh and bone is immediately healed up at a supernatural rate. Not even any sort of potion or golden food item can immediately cure such a variety of severe physical damage unlike Herobrine’s body. They can be blown to actual pieces and can still regenerate in minutes, although with some absolutely disgusting bone and muscle squelching sounds at full speed.

* Along with a body that can regenerate, Herobrine’s body seems to be a elemental conductor. If given the time to focus, they can summon electricity to flow within them, by becoming a literal human lighting rod. Although it does requires them to be actually struck by lightening first. Fire seems to be a easier element for them to summon and manipulate, as using any torch on hand or just walking directly into exposed lava (which does nothing to their body and just flows off harmlessly like water) can ‘charge’ them immediately. As for expelling these elements, they can emit them through their hands and chuck them as blocks or they can become a living EMP by letting it all ‘burst’ out of them. They rarely do this, when they they do, it’s usually only to clear out large waves of mobs who attacked them first.

* They can teleport, just like Endermen, but seems to rarely use it at all. When they do, it’s usually to traverse across large caverns or any sort of natural roadblock that comes across their path. When teleporting, they do not emit a easily visible aura such as the purple flecks that Endermen emit, but they do seem to cause some heat haze phenomenon to appear around their body and surroundings before and after teleporting themselves.

* Herobrine CAN speak, unlike Steve who is born mute. However, when they do speak, anyone can see that their body was never meant to actually talk. Their voice sounds discordant and strained, as if every word they speak is literal agony to say. It just feels scratchy and forced, making them sound like a pained dying Wither whose mouth is full of gravel. Herobrine assumes that their voice is ‘normal’, and is oblivious to how genuinely perturbing it sounds.

* Unlike Steve, who has a defined personality (shy and quiet, but overall a kind person who genuinely wants to help others and secretly craves social interaction), Herobrine has a complete lack of it. They are devoid of even basic personality traits, and is essentially a husk of emotions. Fear, joy, and envy are foreign concepts to them, but it is unfortunately obvious that they can experience and express extreme rage and absolute disgust. Agitating Herobrine is a rare event, but it is a grave mistake for any living being to purposely make them mad or even annoyed.

* In terms of the retaliation these pesky individuals might receive from Herobrine’s hands, they wish they would’ve been killed by falling directly into lava instead. It seems like the cruel, twisted, and genuinely macabre inner thoughts that Steve keeps to himself are fully expressed through Herobrine. Acts that Steve would NEVER do in their entire lifetime towards any sort of mob is instead done by Herobrine, with uncomfortably perfect execution. It’s easy to tell when a mob has been killed by them, as usually they’re deformed beyond recognition or all that remains of them is a blood splattered crater in the ground.

* Not even Herobrine himself knows why they do these acts of EXTREME violence and torture, as they claim that it ‘just feels right’. Even when physically mauling and gutting a mob to death, they’ll always retain the same stoic facial expression they always carries.

* Herobrine is 100% desensitized to gore. After all, there’s been numerous times when they have been mauled, stabbed, missing limbs, puking up blood, and other various states in which their insides are on the outside. It’s gotten to the point where they think it’s totally okay to see somebody else bleeding to death, as Herobrine assumes that they can also recover from their injuries, just like they can.

* When ‘waking up’, Herobrine seems to always have one goal in mind: Go back to bed. After getting out of whatever predicament they woke up in, they immediately makes a beeline towards ‘their house’. Sometimes it takes days or even weeks to walk back, but it’s always a constant thought on their mind. Even if interrupted by Villagers, Pillagers, or mobs, they’ll always dismiss them while continuing to head back home. The only time they’ll actually stop and go off-course is when they’re attacked, and after dealing with whatever interrupted them, they’re back on-course again.

* Food and water are almost unnecessary for them to stay alive, as they can last for weeks without experiencing hunger pains or thirst. Oddly enough however, they can experience fatigue, so as they spend weeks wandering back home, they will occasionally try to force themselves to rest by sleeping on the ground. It usually fails, and this is one of the few things that can actually give THEMSELVES agita, even if they weren’t attacked by a mob. It seems that they literally cannot rest, unless they’re SPECIFICALLY on ‘their’ bed at Steve’s home.

* Simple things in life that Steve enjoys, such as flower fields filled with friendly bees, clear water streams filled with fish, untouched snowy fields, or even seeing any sort of cute wild mob will bring out no reaction from Herobrine. He feels no psychological reaction from any of these relatively positive things, neither a positive nor negative reaction. If he was to even see a panda, he would just stare at it for a few seconds, and walk away, totally disinterested.

* However it seems that the general distaste Steve has towards undead mobs is something Herobrine also shares, as he usually kills on sight any zombie or skeleton he sees, even if it takes him off-course. He is visually disgusted whenever seeing a undead mob, and seems to not ‘toy’ around with them as much unlike other mobs he has killed.

* Even though Herobrine may come off as this unstoppable being with no emotions, ungodly abilities, and extreme strength, there seems to be one ‘weakness’ to him. Alex. He seems to actually experience physical discomfort or even stress when even looking at them, as if all the memories Steve has with Alex has bled over to Herobrine’s consciousness. He just becomes so incredibly meek around them, acting almost Steve-like in how timid he becomes. Just being lightly touched by them causes Herobrine to completely freeze up. However this goes away fully whenever any mob tries to harm Alex, and Herobrine absolutely LOOSES it. Just the mere thought of Alex being injured or being completely gone genuinely SCARES him......

* The first time the two of them met was during one of Herobrine’s long walks ‘back home’, and Alex naturally thought it was just Steve walking back from a day out. As they came closer to speak to him, Alex was immensely horrified to see Herobrine drenched head-to-toe in what seemed to be his own gore, as a arrow was logged through the back of his head, exiting through one of his eyes. Assuming the worst, Alex thought Steve died and came back as a zombie, and soon drew out a sword to mercy-kill them. Herobrine seemed unimpressed by this, and continued to walk his way back to home. Genuinely confused and also still dealing with this sudden wave of fear and grief, Alex once again tried speaking towards what they assume to be a zombified Steve, to only get a bonechilling response. “I.... aAMM...... NOOTT...... STTEEVVEEeee.......” Taken aback from this, Alex attempted to grab Herobrine by his arm, asking feverishly ‘who are you?!’. It seemed however this brief singular act of physical contact by another human being seemed to...... disturb him...... He finally stopped walking to stare at Alex, before speaking again. “Y..you........ aaAAALLEEXxxx?....... w..why..... I... I....... I...... know...... y...yooOoou?.......” Now experiencing what may be confusion for the very first time, the two of them managed to have a conversion, abit more of a one sided conversation as Alex flooded Herobrine with numerous questions about who he is and why he looks so much like Steve. The two of them finally made it to Steve’s house, as Herobrine asked Alex if they can help PULL the arrow out of his head. They obliged, hoping that all of this was just a surreal nightmare. Finally Herobrine threw himself into Steve’s bed, finally getting the sleep he craved. Alex stayed there all night, still in awe and horror of what they just witnessed. As daybreak arose, the being in Steve’s bed finally woke up. Assuming it was still that ‘white eyed doppelgänger mob’, Alex was soon comforted to see Steve’s deep violet eyes staring back at her. Although, what Steve signed next rocked them to their core: [Alex!? Wait, what are you doing here? In my house? Did I let you stay over last night? I really can’t remember, all I know is that I just had a horrible dream with you in it! I remember exploring a cave and some skeletons attacked me, and I accidentally tripped when running away and then I remember a arrow entering my head, and it was a dark haze after that, but you were there as well?! I think we were in the woods, and I remember you were holding my arm and yelling stuff at me, but I don’t know what you said.....]

* Knowing that Herobrine is essentially devoid of feeling or expressing most emotions, Alex tries to bring out the ‘best’ in them by making him do daily activities that Steve enjoys doing, such as taking care of livestock, baking, exploring mines, or crafting items. Unfortunately, Herobrine didn’t really ‘click’ with any of these activities, especially when being around animals. They just look so uninterested and didn’t even flinch when a fox wandered into Steve’s chicken pen and brazenly killed some of the chickens in front of them. Alex was honestly hoping that along with bringing out their potentially suppressed personality and emotions, they were thinking that by doing some things that Steve does, it’ll ‘jog’ Herobrine’s memory that they ARE Steve.

* As time passes on, it becomes more and more apparent that Herobrine is in complete denial that they are some sort of unknown type of supernatural being that is occupying Steve’s corpse and is essentially warping it in unnatural ways. However as Alex keeps bringing it up, it gives them a sense of............ shame. If what they’re saying is absolutely true, then WHY do they exist?............... and... why.... they don’t... want to....... be.... alone.... again............

#LONG STORY SHORT: He’s just a OP god who suffers from loneliness issues and suffering from the inability to explain/express emotions well #herobrine #minecraft #steve #alex #⬜️

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wizardofahz · 4 years ago

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Introducing Grim

A/N: Just a little bit of silly to get back into writing. This is a follow up to Fulfilling the Lie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I think someone’s going to die.”

The panic in Nia’s voice has Kara shooting straight up out of bed though she manages to stop before crashing into the ceiling. Still hovering in the air, she asks, “Did you have a dream? Are you okay? Where are you?”

It’s the middle of the night--3:52 AM according to her phone--which makes the dream scenario most likely. Hopefully that means Nia is safe at home. Still, Kara mentally prepares herself to change into her super suit and fly out the window.

“I’m at home,” Nia responds, speaking a mile a minute. “I dreamed that there was this big black dog, like you know the Grim in Harry Potter? The omen of death? And I think Alex was there, but I don’t-- I didn’t get the sense that she was in danger? But I don’t know. It’s the Grim, right? I keep thinking about Ron’s Uncle Bilius and how he saw a Grim and died. And I know that’s Harry Potter, but, I mean, the messages in my dreams come in symbols, right? So maybe my powers are finally trying to communicate with me in a language that I’ll understand, and maybe that means that someone else is going to die even though I saw Alex, and--”

“Oh,” Kara says once Nia’s words register. All the adrenaline dissipates from Kara’s body, and she sinks back down onto her bed. “No, you dreamed about Alex’s cat.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Nia sighs with relief. “I was really worried. Like I said, I didn’t think Alex was going to die, but I’d really hate to be wrong about that. You know how hard it can be to interpret my dreams.”

“I get it,” Kara says, and she means it. If there was any sign that something would happen to Alex, anything at all, and there was something Kara could do to stop it, she would. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me too,” Nia says with a shaky laugh. “All that freaking out, and it was just Alex’s cat.” A brief silence. “Kara?”

“Yeah?”

“Since when does Alex have a cat?”

Oh, right. After they left the animal shelter, their day had been a whirlwind of pet supply shops and cat-proofing the apartment, and with Alex and Grim’s matching lack of enthusiasm for attention, they hadn’t really told anyone other than Eliza, J’onn, and Kelly. Oops. Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. Almost literally. “Today, or I guess, technically yesterday. It’s a long story, but his name is Grim.”

“Okay,” Nia says in a tone that indicates that she doesn’t really understand but she’s willing to go along with it for the moment. “No one’s going to get hurt, and that’s what matters.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kara mutters, thinking about the unfortunate mismatch between sharp claws and soft human flesh.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

...

Kara’s breakthrough moment with Grim comes entirely by accident.

Her mission for the evening is to keep Grim away from the kitchen while Alex and Kelly finish preparing dinner. Unaware that Kara is an invulnerable Kryptonian, Kelly had given her an apologetic look upon hearing her assignment. Kara doesn’t mind the teeth and the claws. She just hopes Grim doesn’t get too mad at her. She’s still trying to get on his good side.

“I’m sorry. You can’t,” Kara says, intercepting Grim as he wanders in the direction of the kitchen. She crouches in front of him and tries to redirect him. “Alex is busy. How about the cat tower? Want to climb on that instead?”

He does not.

After a few repetitions of this, Kara brings Grim to the couch, holding him in her lap as he tries to wiggle free. He meows his discontent and begins to claw at her.

“No, no, no,” Kara whispers quickly, grabbing a blanket and pushing it between them. “You can’t. Kelly doesn’t know.”

Normally accustomed to a Kara who’s willing to play scratching post, Grim looks up at her in consternation. He paws at her tentatively, testing her reaction. His claws sink into the blanket instead. He pushes into her and then pauses as if processing the feeling. He flexes, stretching his toes out before grabbing the soft material again.

Kara joins him, running her hands through the blanket as well. “I know. It’s nice, right?”

Grim begins to knead the blanket in earnest.

“They’re so cute,” Kara hears Kelly whisper from the other side of the kitchen island.

“Yeah,” Alex whispers back.

It’s one word, and a quiet one at that, but it’s so full of love and happiness. Kara knows how important family harmony is to Alex, and Grim is part of the family now. She knows, without Alex having to say anything, that Alex has been waiting for this moment.

She is going to hug Alex as soon as she can.

...

J’onn J’onzz is a cheater. Of this, Alex is convinced.

After meeting Grim, he initially keeps his distance, but after a while, J’onn seems to know exactly when Grim will tolerate being pet--not to mention exactly where he wants to be pet--and when he’s feeling antisocial. Alex has no doubt that J’onn is reading Grim’s mind.

Because of this, J’onn and Grim establish an understanding faster than anyone other than Alex.

That is until her mom arrives.

“Mom, this is Grim,” Alex says. Grim is currently in her arms for everyone’s safety and comfort, but Alex kneels and places him on the ground between them.

Eliza kneels opposite her. “Hi, Grim. It’s nice to meet you.”

Grim looks to Alex, who nods with approval. “It’s okay,” she says. “It’s just Mom.”

Grim takes a tentative step towards Eliza. She reaches out a hand to let him sniff her, and it’s not long before she’s allowed to pet him, scratching him gently behind the ears.

“What? How?” Kara whines. “That’s not fair.”

“Apparently Alex is only deferential to Eliza,” J’onn says. “He can sense it.”

Alex’s eyes narrow. There it is, evidence of her suspicions. “How do you know that? Are you reading my cat’s mind?”

“I may not work for the DEO anymore, but I still find it prudent to investigate and track potential threats.”

“Hey!”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Eliza says, joining Alex in coming to Grim’s defense. Years of raising Alex has taught Eliza to recognize when someone is reaching their limit. “It’s okay, sweetie. You can go.”

Grim scampers off for the moment, but he returns to her regularly throughout her visit for more head scratchings.

...

Trust has to be earned.

As a therapist, Kelly is very well aware of this. She has a lot of practice ensuring that her patients grow to trust that they will be listened to and not judged.

The problem is that she has done this by communicating in English, a language that Alex’s cat Grim does not speak, and Kelly, being allergic to cats as she is, does not have a lot of experience speaking cat.

“I’m not trying to hurt her,” she insists to Grim, who is scowling at her from Alex’s side.

Kelly is using her lunch break to check on Alex, who has had a long couple of days vigilante-ing. Sure enough, upon letting herself into the apartment, she was met with the sight of Alex asleep on the couch, still in her outfit with the tight suit and boots on.

Kelly had simply thought to wake Alex just long enough to get her to change and into bed, but Grim seems to be taking offense to the idea of disturbing Alex’s rest.

Ironically one of his growls nudges Alex into consciousness. She drowsily blinks a couple of times before recognizing her visitor.

“Kelly?”

“Hey,” Kelly says gently. “I thought you might want to change out of that outfit and get into bed. You know, be more comfortable?”

Alex looks down the length of her body. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea.” She instinctively reaches for Grim. “Come on, dude.”

When she slides into bed, Grim settles beside her again.

“Do you need anything?” Kelly asks before she leaves. “I can refill Grim’s bowl. I noticed it was empty.”

“Ye--” Alex yawns. “--ah, that’d be great. Thanks. You’re the best.”

After several repeat occurrences, Kelly can tell that Grim is growing to trust her more.

The ultimate show of acceptance comes when she’s staying at Alex’s because of a cold. She wakes up feeling better but with a weight on her chest. That weight is Grim, curled up and purring up a storm.

Kelly smiles and reaches out a hand to pet him. “Thanks, Grim.”

...

Grim backs away from Nia with a hiss.

“Maybe try again with a little less enthusiasm,” Kelly says. “Less is better with him.”

Alex keeps an eye on the three as she talks to Brainy. She has finally been coaxed into bringing Grim to game night to meet the rest of the Super Friends. She trusts Kelly to make sure Grim is all right, the only reason she isn’t glued to his side.

Brainy is a question machine. He asks if Alex met Streaky, the differences between Grim and Streaky, the differences in cat personalities, inherent cat behaviors, and the logistics of cat care. Alex is sure Brainy has additional questions, but Kara and J’onn are approaching from the kitchen area with the drinks, and Grim is starting to look overwhelmed by all the people.

Alex is about to rescue him when she catches the look on Lena’s face.

Lena is looking at Grim with an expression of horror in multiple senses of the word, maybe half foreboding horror like one watching a horror movie and half distasteful horror like someone being given a rancid fruit and being told it is an exquisite solid wine.

Alex finds that latter half offensive.

“You cannot use my cat as an excuse to restart Non Nocere,” Alex says, startling Lena.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Lena says, her voice entirely lacking in conviction. In fact, her face says that if she hadn’t been thinking about it before, she’s started thinking about it now.

William is running late, and by the time he arrives, Grim has disappeared into the shadows.

That’s not to say that William doesn’t meet him.

Sort of.

When William goes to the bathroom, the sound of the door closing is followed by a scream of surprise from William and a series of yowls from Grim.

Kara and Alex run for the bathroom and skid to a stop as William stumbles out of it.

“Kara, you were right about the cat.”

...

By the time Andrea comes to her first game night, Grim has gotten used to socializing and learned how to let people know he’s had enough in a non-threatening manner.

Kara helps Lena welcome her to the group and introduce her to the few people she has yet to meet. Alex and Grim give Andrea identical wary looks. It is one of the cutest things Kara’s ever seen. That doesn’t stop her from steering Andrea to the other side of the room.

“Uh, maybe you should sit over here.”

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #nia nal #eliza danvers #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #et al.#moments in the life of superfam #i'm sorry i barely stopped being lazy enough to write this #i still have enough laziness to not tag all appropriate parties

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lowlypotatofarmer · 4 years ago

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my thoughts on

julie and the phantoms

also now that i’ve finished the show, i will be tagging any future posts containing potential spoilers with #jatp spoilers for at least the next few weeks so you might want to blacklist that if you haven’t already?

spoilers under the cut

(it got kinda long and messy and chaotic i’m sorry in advance)

i have so many feelings about that show. it was genuinely so so good (i’m going to try to not harp on the gay rep too much but i will bring it up because as a gay, i obviously enjoy it)

julie: starting with julie because while i love her dearly, i have a lot more to say about the boys. julie is an amazingly well written character and all of her reactions to things feel so real, from the emotions behind her being unable to play piano at the beginning, to three guys just appearing, to playing for the first time. it’s tangible. and she doesn’t do that thing i hate, where something bad happens and all is immediately forgiven after a little ass kissing, she actually holds grudges and reacts like an irl person would to being stood up at the dance. i love her so so much. also she’s absolutely gorgeous (and by her i mean the actress ofc)

boys: anyway, the meat of this. the boys. words cannot describe the stupid amount of affection i feel for these absolute idiots. i’m always hesitant about the ‘pretty boys’ in media because 9 times out of 10, they don’t have personalities or emotions. mainly the emotions part. media is often still stuck in that idea surrounding toxic masculinity, that strong men can’t cry and have emotions and be affectionate and feel things deeply while still being strong. the second we are introduced to the boys you can tell that is not the case.

this fucking boyband. the passion in the songs, the meaning. something you don’t find everywhere. not to mention their friendship. i could write an essay on their friendship. god, i want what they have. they all just love each other so much and are so comfortable with one another. the thing i keep thinking about is how casual they all are about alex’s sexuality. obviously they had some time between when he actually came out and the story, but never once do they seem anything less than fully normal about it. it isn’t a big deal and it shouldn’t be. the point being, i don’t know how the 90s were, homophobia-wise, but i like to think 2020 is probably coming to the best it’s ever been but even now, most straight guys are still uncomfortable being around gay men. luke and reggie rib alex about his crush on willie the same way they poke fun at luke for the chemistry between him and julie or with reggie and any girl he ‘flirts’ with. i fucking love it so much.

also not to stray from my point but luke and reggie also have some chemistry when they share a mic. not necessarily romantic but it’s There and definitely gives their performances an extra something. and the scene where luke sings at reggie and “that was pretty hot” where he kisses his fingers and puts them against reggie’s lips was easily in my top 5 fav scenes it was just so funny

but anyway, back on track. none of them are afraid of being real with each other. alex’s constant anxiety and the jokes about him crying for 25 years (and him dancing with dirty candy? amazing scene), reggie being upset when his house had been turned into a bike shack, literally every song luke writes being a piece of his soul that he’s sharing with not only the others, but the world (i cried during that whole ‘unsaid emily’ part, ngl). they’re best friends, and maybe it’s just because i have no straight guy friends to base it off of, but the honesty between them is something i rarely see in friendships between guys, even though we should.

honorable mentions:

absolutely love that connection between julie and sunset curve via her mom (the waitress)....that was supposed to be the implication, right? rose was her mom, she was the waitress bobby flirted with, she mentioned the bands she’s been in, one of those was rose & the petal pushers (the ticket on the top of her mom’s trunk?)

also bobby being trevor who is carrie’s dad was also a fantastic connection, though i really wish we got a scene about the boys actually confronting him about stealing the music, or even just catching up. the reveal of trevor seeing the boys on youtube and then in person was 11/10 but i wish there would’ve been a bit more payoff there, just a personal point

and then finally i swear to god if caleb fucks with nick’s friendship with julie or turns him into an asshome i will personally murder a fictional character. i will find a way. nick is amazing i love him.

i like flynn as a character but it kinda annoyed me how, in ep3 before finding out about the ghosts, she was so quick to anger about julie hiding things from her (understable anger though) but IMMEDIATELY went to text julie’s dad when she forced julie into telling her what was actually going on. like if you want your friend to tell you things, maybe going directly to her dad the second she does confide in you isn’t the best way to go about it. then again, i’ve never had a friend lose a parent and start seeing ghost bandmates so maybe i would do the same thing.

willie and alex are so adorable and booboo stewart plays the slightly dorky skater perfectly. i am a SUCKER for a good fanfic type pairing and nothing says that more than the skater and the drummer. also alex’s “get woke” to luke was the fucking funniest thing he’s so dorky

anyway, if you read all that, big kudos to you. and if you didn’t that’s understandable, i would probably skip it too. yall should share your fav scenes, i’m really genuinely curious so like submit an ask or something, i want to know!

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #sorry this is so long

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batfam-imagines · 6 years ago

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Pregnant Batsis

Request: So we all know how badass Batmom is, but how about a badass, single mother batsis? Maybe she is older or like a year younger than dick, but she took pregnancy and taking care of her baby like a true warrior. How do you think the bat fam will take that?

A/N: So I don’t know if I quite followed the prompt, but I did my best! I’m a little rusty when it comes to writing! Hope you guys like it!

“I have an announcement to make” Glancing around to make sure everyone is paying attention, you focus your attention on Bruce, “I’m pregnant, 22 weeks if what the doctor said is right”

Surprisingly Jason is first one to react, “Are you both healthy? You were literally out on patrol yesterday ...! Why the fuck were you out on patrol if you’re pregnant?!?”

“I just found out for sure this morning, and I’ve only had suspicions for like a week. According to all the scans she took today everything looked fine”

Dick finally seems to get over his shock, “Did you get any pictures? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ll show you in a few minutes, Dickie.” Bruce still hasn’t said anything, “B? Are you alright?”

“I assume the father is still in the picture? And that you’ll be resuming Patrol once the child is born? You know how important the Mission is, and even these few months without Sparrow’s presence will put a strain on everyone else”

Tim’s brow furrows, “That’s what you think of? The Mission? Your oldest daughter just told you she was pregnant and all you want to know about is when she’s gonna be back on the street. You can’t even say congratulations?!”

Holding up a hand, you step between everyone, “Calm down. It’s fine, Timmy. B, the father isn’t in the picture anymore. When I told him, I might be pregnant he said that he didn’t want anything to do with me or the baby and said that he would hand over all parental rights when the baby was born, and I’ve already moved into my own apartment. And I didn’t intend to go back to Patrolling full time after the baby. I’ll come out in emergencies, but I was going to have Babs teach me how to man the comms while I’m pregnant.”

“I think that’s a great idea. You can be there if the little tyke needs you, and you can give Babs a break every once a while.” Jason throws you a smirk, “Between us and the girls we’re driving her batty”

“That was terrible, Todd, however having Y/N on communications would be much more preferable to Gordon.” Your youngest brother shifts out from under the arm Dick slings across his shoulders, “I would also very much like to see the pictures of the child”

Sitting down on the large empty couch, all your brothers gather around to look at the various pictures, “We couldn’t find out the gender today, the ultrasound technician said that the baby wasn’t in a good position to tell anything.”

Unfortunately, Bruce doesn’t seem interested in looking at pictures, he just gets up and leaves the room.

Two days later there’s a knock on your apartment door. It isn’t any of your brother, because one of the first things they made you promise was to give them 24/7 access to your apartment.

“Y/N, it’s me. Please open the door” Opening the door a crack, you and Bruce lock eyes, “Can I come in? I think we have some things to talk about”

“Just so you know, I told Steph and Cass last night about the baby. Cass did that angry stare thing when I told them about your reaction, and Steph threatened to put itching powder in the Batsuit”

Bruce snorts, “I wouldn’t expect else from Stephanie, and I already got a video-call from Cassandra. She was actually the one to convince me to come here.”

“Because we all know you’re emotionally stunted, and wouldn’t have come here on your own”

“Right” Bruce shifts awkwardly, “Please, Y/N. I realized that the other day could have been handled better”

“Yeah, alright, fine. Come in. Excuse the mess, the boys were over last night, and I haven’t had a chance to clean up”

“It’s fine, I know how much of a mess those boys can make” Bruce glances around at he empty pizza boxes on the counter and the blankets piled on the couch before sitting on the empty side of it.

Taking a seat in the arm chair, you lean forward, “So what did you want to talk about?”

“I wanted to say that I am sorry for the way I reacted the other night when you announced your pregnancy. No matter what you’re my daughter, and I don’t want anything to come between us. This family has enough problems, without me adding another one to it. I don’t want to create another rift between myself and my children, Y/N, especially when there will be a new little one soon. I hope that you can accept my apology, and if you don’t want me in the child’s life, I hope that you will at least let me still contact you”

“Wow, I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk without yelling in a long time. Of course I want you in mine and the baby’s life, B! I was hoping you’d get your head out of your ass soon so you could be a grandfather. This means I’ll have to call the other’s and call off all the pranks”

Bruce chuckles, “I would appreciate that, but you know your brothers will still do something in retaliation.”

“Oh, I know, but if I at least tell them you apologized it might not be as bad.” Glancing towards the clock, you flash a grin at Bruce, “Now, as the final part of your apology you’re going to take me out to lunch and then we’re going to go people-watch at the mall”

“Whatever you say, Y/N. Why don’t you call your brothers and ask if they want to come? Alfred is already preparing dinner for everyone tonight, Stephanie and Cass are flying back from their mission now, so everyone will be there”

“So you’ll get to spend the whole day with me! Aren’t you lucky, B!” Bruce chuckles, “I’m gonna go get dressed and call everyone”

Thankfully, there are no other family problems during the pregnancy, and everything progresses like normal. Barbra teaches you how to hack and how to man the Comms. There are a few instances where someone comes back to the Cave hurt and Alfred starts teaching you how to patch everyone up. During the day you continue to teach Criminal Justice classes at Gotham University.

“Guys, will you quit. I’m pregnant, not an invalid, I can still go to work!”

Even Bruce looks concerned, “Are you sure? You have to stand in front of class … should you even be standing anymore? Are you sure this apartment has enough room for you and the baby? I can still get you a better one, or you could move back into the Manor -”

“Bruce! I don’t need you to buy me an apartment, I can afford this one just fine and it’s plenty big enough. I’ll come to the Manor and visit, but I like living near work. And of freaking course I can stand!”

Tim peeks over the back of the couch, “We just to make sure you’re alright, Y/N. None of us have ever really been around pregnant people, especially pregnant family”

“I know, Timmy, but sometimes you guys can be a bit much”

“If Drake or Todd are the ones causing you stress I can … get rid of them” Dick nudges Damian and raises an eyebrow, “Or just challenge them to a fight for you”

Dick rolls his eyes, “That wasn’t much better, Dami.”

“Y/N cannot fight in her condition, so I will do it for her”

“I don’t need anyone to fight for me, Dami. I’ll just make them wait until after I have the baby, and then kick their ass” Damian grins at this and nods.

When the baby is born, everyone is there. The boys try to distract you from the pain, Bruce is a constant presence at your side, and the girls are constantly asking the nurses questions and arguing with the boys.

“Alright, Ms. Wayne, who do you want in the room with you when it’s time to deliver?” The nurse smiles and checks the fetal monitor while asking the question.

“Just my dad, while I love my siblings, I’d rather they didn’t see my vagina”

Jason barks out a laugh, “I appreciate that, Y/N. We might be a close family, but I’ll come back after the baby is out”

“Alright, that sounds like a plan, Ms. Wayne. Everything is looking good here, the baby looks like they’re in a good position, and the heartrate is looking good too. You were at 7 centimeters when I just checked, so the contractions might be getting a little more intense. If you need anything just hit the call light”

After the nurse leaves, Bruce turns to look at you, “You really want me in here?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be the baby’s grandfather, and … you’re my dad. I need someone’s hand to break”

Once you’re discharged from the hospital, everyone refuses to leave you alone. Alfred makes sure that your fridge is full, Bruce constantly stops by the apartment after work to check-in, and your siblings drop in at all times of the night and day.

“You know I can handle this myself right, I don’t need someone to constantly check on me!”

Bruce snorts, “We’re always here because we care about you and want to be a part of Alex’s life. We know you can take care yourself and your child, we aren’t questioning that. Your pregnancy just … brought everyone together. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the boys get along this well, just last night Damian and Tim had a conversation without fighting, and Cass smiles more than ever! Alfred seems to have more energy now that you named him honorary Great-Grandfather. I’ve even noticed a change in myself”

You flop down on the floor and lean against Bruce’s legs and let out a resigned sigh, “Well, when you put it like that … I guess everyone can keep coming around to bug me”

———————————————————————————–

Let me know what you think! Send any ideas or requests you have to my Ask Box!

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estradioltone · 4 years ago

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Why’s my stomach hurting? Why am I feeling so lonely when I have so many messages to answer? I CANNOT have another favorite person. Does that mean I’m doomed to high school loneliness?

When I was fifteen lots of people liked me AND I didn’t have a favorite person. Sean? Sam? Danica S? I’m trying to remember. Alex? Stephanie? What show did we do that year? It was Charlie Brown. Mattress, Charlie Brown, Trial by Jury, Sound of Music, and Alice. Shauna? Alex? Danni? Jonathan? Jordan? Danica made those CDs for me. Gabi? Ellery? Irene? Keziah? There were so many people. And none was the favorite. Kaz? Therone? Felicia? Deja? Corri? Jae? Cassie? Leslie? Laureen? Katy? There were so many people around me and I wasn’t the favorite and no one was my favorite. I wasn’t even talking to Amanda at that point. And I did like her. There were a number of people I was attracted to, and, I didn’t make any moves, bc I didn’t get close enough to them in terms of conversations. I needed that first. Like to be comfortable? Lauren? Was she in focus? I can’t remember much if anything about her now, and I was so into her then. Kari?

I used to change with Kari.

Oliver and his male friends used to change in front of each other.

Kari was so great. We were always friends only. I don’t think either of us ever had feelings for the other. She was such an amazing friend. Caitlin? Anna or Sarah? Sarah F? Janell? This is the first time I’ve dug into the memories of those earlier high school years. It literally feels like a backhoe digging into dirt and clearing it away. Archeologist excavating.

I remember sitting in 204 watching some movie in the dark. Mrs. H was teaching. I don’t have memories. Of what we learned. I never learned in English. I never knew what the fuck was going on I just always got A’s. I wrote that paper about having a peanut allergy. It has terrible racist stereotypes. No one called me out. No teacher. I was fifteen. Today I would e known better. Unless I was a republican. Like I was then. I was very conservative. How was I conservative? It didn’t fit with any part of how I acted. Danielle? Remember that film I made that was literally just everyone swearing. Spencer? I remember so many things. Why did I write that.

I don’t want to remember many things.

Why not? That’s so fucking weird. There are many things I don’t want to remember? Where did that thought come from?

I don’t want to remember bc it hurts too much to remember? That thought just came to me.

I wasn’t hurting during that year. I wasn’t depressed. It was like that time with M in sophomore college. Wow. In that moment sophomore looked like high school sophomore to me. It felt like being in Maine. It felt like mid August two summers ago. It’s summer. It’s June. Two summers ago he sucked my sick for the first time and I couldn’t even get hard. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I forced myself to keep going bc I wanted it. That was my fuck up moment. He kissed me that night. It was like Amanda asking to marry me what the fuck to DATE me. How did that happen? It’s in retrospect I wish I’d said no

The hurt is that if I remember I’ll double remember how

The blue waffle thermal

I remember the car and snow pants but not skiing. I remember kissing and my precut glowing like a river. I got wet like a girl. I got hard like a boy. I don’t know what’s normal.

I remember the night she came to see me at the Estonian concert. “Let’s go over here. Lots of girls like me here.” She later told me that freaked her out not freaked out it was like “ullll” what are the words that describe what that means it’s like a little oh no and yikes at the same time. It’s like when O asked me what my main interest in the relationship was and I said sex. And he had the same reaction. And I said, how could I have ever said something like that. It’s callous. And, it was honest. And then I got attached. Before I was having fun. I was happy.

And when I’m happy and having fun I behave like a disgusting jock boy. Maybe that’s who I essentially am. Maybe I’m choosing to be trans so I can become a different person. I do want to become a different person. Even then I thought back like what the fuck was I doing. Like when I touched G and C’s breasts. And I wasn’t allowed to go to cast parties. I didn’t get to do wild things. Would I have?

I was so many different people. I’m also the person at Sam’s house who was afraid to be there.

Remember Caitlins white dreads. Remember when Safi first came to school or Kylie. Remember how cool and superior you felt. Remember how everyone was lesser in your eyes. Sophie. Edna. Kendra. Nikki. That girl molly sitting on my lap and I was hard as fuck. I didn’t think of that in so long. Was that ninth grade? Or eighth?

We were at Burgerville.

I was just doing whatever I wanted.

Is that who I am in a state of nature?

And, I’m the person who stayed in my room instead of going out for a birthday party.

What was Menucha like that year

I didn’t have many years with older friends after that.

Remember Laura. You were twelve and she was seventeen. But you never really talked after the show ended. Would she hug me? Did she hug me in sixth grade? Was I happy at the end of sixth grade???? I think she hugged me by the 201 door. I can remember it now.

I drew that picture of her.

I said “your eyes aren’t quite even.” Wow that must have hurt her and I could see it in her face.

I did whatever I wanted. I thought I was cool I was trying to be cool at all times.

That was my first summer in Eugene. Jessica Zach Ted. Dr. A. Joe. Nicholas. Brahms. Komm Jesu Komm. Standing on the steps in that rehearsal room. My feet sweaty and stinky as fuck. Black like sweat things coming off my toes. My roommate was Nick.

That moment in the hallway taking down my pants. “Should we go all the way?”

Jessica wanted to be closer than I did. I fall back on ppl when I’m lonely but don’t want closeness when I’m not. I use people. I do what O did to me. He didn’t really love me? Or did he?

I’m single now but I’m not having fun but I need to give it more time and I am being more wild. I started to get wild sophomore year. Sarah G. I thought things had changed. But I didn’t want them to change bc I wanted to be unhappy there??????????????

You’re really cool for a freshman. Others wouldn’t do that.

Well I’m basically a senior bc I’ve already been at my school four years.

High school was my college time in a way. It was my amazing time and I was studying and creating big projects. College was my high school time hating things and not self actualizing and not being myself.

Did I do it on purpose???????????? Is that kind of thing possible???????? I know I’ve thought that before. Can I be faking this all? This little voice says yes. What the fuck. I have to be honest about that little voice. I have to bring it up.

She isn’t going to set the agenda. If I want to keep going on the same subject, I have to push onwards into it. What memories are there to open up there? God this is going to take so long and I want to do other things and I know I want to have done this work of digging through elementary school and things.

Honor choir I was the only freshman and I sang alone and they all clapped and cheered for me. I pooped and made the room stink and I was too embarrassed to say. I didn’t have anyone to sit with. I couldn’t sit with people who seemed cool to me. The directors were like gods. The guys were from Montana. I was wearing my first set of boxer briefs. They said I wasn’t like a normal freshman. The performance meant almost nothing. I was sick to my stomach going. I was sick to my stomach going to Eugene. I was sick to my stomach for years before undergrad. J. K. was too. She told me that later on. We read that same book.

I wanted to prove myself. That other guy was shaving and we were all sharing the bathroom. He was shaving. I took my underwear off before getting in the shower. I wanted to show myself I could. I wanted to expose myself.

Why am I so obsessed with the idea of having been molested or raped now and not earlier in my life? How could that be possible? How could I not have remembered it sooner? Or thought of it? Not in undergrad at all. I must be making up that fear. I make up my whole life. All of life is imagined and made up and fake and shit. All of life is imagined period. How am I tired again and yawning. I was always yawning with the computer on my lap. They said the computer heat makes you infertile. Did I lose my chance of having a bigger dick bc I sat a computer on my lap? I loved having a laptop. And, I never looked at porn porn. I was so abnormal. Everyone else did.

Talking with Jacob about penis size. I didn’t think about size mattering. That Hannah who later must’ve fucked Matt P. He came down with shorts so short his dick was hanging out. It was so exciting to me, and horrifying, bc I liked her. I liked so many people. I like so many people simultaneously. I jump around. I can’t find my place. Maybe I don’t have a place. Singing was my place.

I really liked Cole. How much older is he than me? Less older than I am compared to O. I think. He went to India and then he came back and did what. Was he only 24 or 25? We all thought it was fucked up that he dated Eric L and he was a senior and Eric was a freshman. He came out later. I’m so fucked. W moved on to a whole different kind of life where she has adult friends with children and she and F will probably have a kid sooner than later. She already got pregnant once.

J and M (C) are growing up a lot. I see everyone else changing so much. I’m objectively changing with HRT and whatnot. And therapy. And I don’t feel like I’m changing. When change is slow you don’t feel it. Which of these people is really me? My developmental stages are so mixed up. As a kid I fit better with adults. Even my parents say that. Now I really like nineteen year olds and twenty year olds. And, I just saw H and M tonight and there was a big gap between me and H but I was quite into M. I wanted to look at their breasts and forced myself not to. I wonder if both of them noticed and they talked about it later. I wonder how much people notice the things I try to hide. Am I good at it? Am I better than I think? Which me is really me?

I want my breasts to stay small. So I don’t get judged. I’m very worried about being judged. I’m not a women and I don’t like being called a woman. I felt like a man and no longer a boy if that makes sense. But I can be called a girl. I’m getting very agitated thinking that I’m faking being trans. We all change our gender identities bc it’s the thing to do. Conservatives are right. We should be conservatives. The conservative position is easier to defend. They never have to prove themselves. Their beliefs are the old ones. Why should we change. Life is fine. My mom doesn’t want things to change. Or I’m projecting on her. I tho m I’m better than others and I project my bad things onto them so I don’t deal with them. Is that why I feel so free?

How fucked up am I. I wrote that paper about L dying in sophomore year. I’m more introspective and controlled when I’m in a relationship. With A and W and O. Not D. I had to lie about her attractiveness. But I loved her mind. Or I loved her being there for me when I needed someone.

S isn’t comfortable with me. We went to the beach tgt with her brother. I felt she brought her brother so we would t be alone tgt. She probably knows I have feelings for her. And have for over ten years. She’s honestly so pretty. She never replies when I message her on ig. She’s had so much sex and partied so much. Idk if her hair really came back after her eating disorder. She’s a professor. A real one. Not like fake ass me. I live at home. I’m Jim the gentleman caller. I just want to relive my moment of being cool. She wasn’t cool in high school. And, she had a group. And, she’s secure in herself now. Is she? I don’t know her. She doesn’t engage with me probably bc she knows I have feelings for her. If she had feelings for me she wouldn’t react in that way. She would want to talk to me. Or she’s holding me back bc I’m a nightmare pos.

My dads bloody eyeballs. Bloody eyeball in New York.

I had introspection awake at night on my computer. Maybe if I slept more I’d have a bigger dick. They called me pancake. I’m sad that W’s life is complete without me. As I thought earlier me like O so much must make her feel the same way. S watches all my stories but never messages me. She keeps her distance on purpose and has for years. I need to stop reacting to her posts and messaging her ever. She never ever ever reacts to me. I talked to her about O. That was one of our only conversations. In the past year I mean.

I have so much left to say I have to pee I always tried to hold my excretia in.

I used to put stuff in my butt. They took me to the doctor for it I think. And in my ear. Or was that S. I know I fingered myself when I was quite young. I’ve been obsessed with pooping since forever. Obsessed. Butts. Anal phase development. Freud. We both stuck stuff inside ourselves I think. Or was it only him that stick stuff inside his butt. I can’t remember for sure. I thought it was me.

My blue basketball tracksuit. Orange basketball. So excited. Getting up early and getting fully dressed by myself. So excited. Running to my parents. It was so early. They told me to go back to sleep. They were sleeping. I couldn’t sleep. I read something. It was so boring.

Everyone was asleep at the R house. I woke up early and first and I was so bored. I went to play that football video game. My mom got mad at me for playing that game too much. Did she get mad that morning? Tf was I supposed to do????? I was bored. Why did I get disciplined for such stupid shit. That’s a reason I didn’t respect my parents. This shouldn’t be a rule. Same as eating in the living room whole watching tv.

2:30 tomorrow.

Hold on hold onnnnnnnn the bathroom at OLL.

I make up narratives of being emotionally hurt.

So many fucking thoughts!!!!!!!!

Im making up a catholic school molestation story. Or am I.

That bathroom. That bathroom. Urinals without dividers. The tall skinny ones. Just like in the bathroom but 220. 220. Second floor, room 20. Playing football with Dominick and Kyle and one other boy. Kyle is dead now. Kyle C. Kathryn was friends with him. She posted about him. Angie. Leah senior year.

Your profile picture is you with another girl.

I changed it.

How excellent. Walking with Jessica on 4th of July. Dr. A gave a speech. We stepped forward for How excellent. Why was I involved? I don’t know. I wanted to be. They taught me the song. I sang alto I think. My voice was free. Did anything hurt? I don’t remember it did. I didn’t need Ricola. Or did I. My voice got sore junior year. Not sophomore year. I could sing big. I should’ve always gotten to sing big.

I’m going into a tunnel with my practicing. I need to work on something different.

I’m squeezing my neck like crazy.

The church at OLL.

SW from church really really wants me involved in her prayer organization. I am not a believer. It’s BS. That speaker was so BS.

I need to text W.

The church has blue carpet. “Jesus died on the cross, you can stand for twenty minutes.” My legs hurt so much. I remember lighting candles but that happened in California, not here. When Aunt K got remarried. I found out much later her husband drank himself to death. They got divorced before that happened. He would drink rubbing alcohol. Steven went too fast lighting the candles. I was so mad. Don’t you know what you’re doing. But I had to stay in character. My dad has to go up and relight them. I was humiliated. I danced with Baby Anna. She didn’t recognize me after that. She was so cute. I was 10? She was probably three or four. I was so disappointed when she didn’t know me after that. We swam in our shorts. I got such a bad sunburn. My skin was peeling at the Aunt P ranch. We were reading H P. I’m still scarred from that sunburn. Left shoulder. The soda thing. They had their own automatic soda. That was so cool. Everyone else lived in the real world. Not us. We lived in church world where I wore clothes I hated. And we took family photos I hated.

I’m just born evil nothing happened to me I’ve just always been evil and bad.

I looked in the mirror in the same bathroom mirror the same bathroom mirror where I shaved my unibrow when I was mocked I still do or was I even mocked I was just afraid of being mocked why do I have a unibrow why am I the weird one how can anyone love me when I’m so weird

But it’s not the same mirror bc that ugly cupboard got replaced and the door was so broken and I shared it with S and A. Sharing is such a nightmare. This house is pretty small for three kids and two adults it was at capacity. I wonder if that’s why we fought so much.

I didn’t work on the book today again.

The book.

Not my book.

Not even his book.

The book.

Where’s the ownership dumdum dumbass

But even if it’s not the same mirror it’s the same thought. I looked in the mirror and I believe I even said out loud just now

Crazy that I don’t remember

But if I said it out loud my parents would’ve heard

Why don’t I want my parents to know anything

Did they know when Z said he would kill me if he could or he stole all my friends

I was talking about how Lindsay Lohan was naked in parent trap. She must not have known I said. That excited me so much. Being naked. She was naked. It’s bad but it turns me on so much. It’s not appropriate but I’m so into it.

Even T said my obsession with sex is abnormal. But she agreed with me saying that. Maybe she was just pushing me to do more thinking. Idk if others are telling the truth for sure. My moral compass is off. I always want or need an external standard. This is right. This is wrong. I’m bad. I’m a sinner. If I just be myself I do terrible things. I say I’m just in it for the sex. I say all these girls here like me.

He said what did we used to listen to? Jonsi?

Adele too I said

It’s so fucking weird that we message at all.

It’s weird FOR ME that we message

God I’m so far off topic

Did he really forget what we listened to? Are our moments tgt not seared into his brain like laser and fire? I remember everything. I remember his letter. I remember meeting him by the chapel. I remember sitting on the bench outside the music department and we sat for so long and I was thinking this is weird I should leave but he just kept talking and then it was bc he liked me. I’m sure I still have that first letter in my box of heartbreak which is actually an oversized envelope. I remember seeing him from down the hall and feeling so happy. Am. I really gay? And that happiness was real. And maybe I was his gf and that’s why it didn’t feel gay

If I was abused how come I can have sex without being triggered

After a lifetime of being obsessed with sex how come it doesn’t feel good

I never lose myself in it

It just doesn’t feel that good. Masturbating feels better. Did I not have the right partner

I see little me in a dress

Instead I was in stupid fucking clothes I hated

I wore white socks at St. Luke’s with black pants. My mom told me dont. I didn’t want to listen. Then she was right. She was self satisfied afterwards. “yyyyyyyyyyEP.” Why tf were we even at St. Luke’s. S and A lived behind St. Luke’s. They were so cool. BC was there. I talked about having written an opera. He must’ve been like wtf. I saw him at undergrad at a concert. M said to me who was that guy you were talking to and said he was sexy or something. He was. I wasn’t into him though.

Oh my fucking god I’m so off topic AND I want to get this whole thought out.

S and A were so cool. I can talk to A bc I don’t have sexual interest in him. It was a long time before I knew he was trans. I was trying to put so much stuff together. They were both so fucking cool. S isn’t that cool now to me. And it’s hard for me to talk to her calmly. She had meds. I’m sure she has problems like I have. Maybe that’s why our relationship became weird. Weirdly close but not close and I was always yearning for more like I did with B. But I knew I couldn’t !!!!! That was so fucked up. My legs twitched. I wanted to be her.

Hating boy dress clothes. I always have.

Wanting to be an older woman.

But I’m totally cis.

What am I

I looked in the mirror now like I always did in high school and said I think out loud WHO ARE YOU in an emphatic tone of voice. My face and voice were serious. My eyes were wide. My mouth was set. WHO ARE YOU didn’t mean what’s wrong with you in this case.

Katy is commenting to me again it’s the most interaction we’ve had in years why am I not giving more energy back why am I being aloof maybe bc she out distance there and I’m trying to keep myself safe or I’m hurt or I’m just consumed with other things or I just don’t feel close to her. Her not talking to me hurt a lot. Stop distracting from topic!!!!!!!!!!! T hurt a lot. Then T sent that heart emoji to my post today after “stay well”

Alright

Idk what that means and W sees it so simply and straightforward and I just don’t.

That’s not who she was

I’m obsessed with WAS

WHO ARE YOU meant which of these many different versions of yourself that you experience and present is the real one? How can there be so many?????

I did outpatient at the hospital near sams house and Sam dated Irene and Irene announced her engagement today and both of Irenes parents are dead and we haven’t spoken in decades but were still connected online.

I wish I was walking in snow like when I was hurting over D and I walked so far and my mom called me like what the fuck you’re going to get attacked and I said I used to walk the streets of New York much later than this

Sam dated K and he was never the same after that. I was there with Gabi and Kari and we made deep fried lovin and it was amazing and we loved it and Sam and I could never recapture that although we tried a few times. He always said “what do you want to do” and I didn’t know and neither of us had an idea. I went to so many weird ass coffee meets and hangouts in those first few years after high school. A had a pool party or something. When was the slip n slide party. We had all those AGT parties and tried to recreate or simply create the social life and friends over we should’ve had in high school and I believe my mom was extremely happy bc that’s what she had always wanted, to be the party house, like all the kids coming to play at her house when she was a kid. But how could anyone like coming here with the way she acted. We actually were a party house in elementary school. There’s that day when we all played in the rain and I was wearing red sweatpants. There’s the picture where I wanted the attention and I stood in front of the whole group sideways catching snowflakes on my tongue. We played smear the queer in the frosty grass. The athletic boys were the coolest. K’s older brother Dylan was called superstar on the soccer field. We played so many games at OLL. Do you remember tether ball. Words look weird rn what are letters even. Wall ball and black magic and double black magic and triple black magic and quadruple black magic and four square and kickball and soccer and basketball god we were so competitive it was amazing and so fun

Kickball on the asphalt we always had scraped knees who approved that who let us play like that. Brandon fell and left his teeth in the asphalt or at least that was my image of it. Zero the Hero. One hundreds day. Turbo math. Writing books. Everyone else knew things I didn’t. Star Wars. Everyone knew things I didn’t.

We couldn’t be the party house in middle school. She wasn’t safe. I wanted to die. I deserved to die bc I was so disobedient.

Who was I? The no friends middle school. Won’t let myself poop disgusting fart everyone smelled it too scared to pee off the stairs I had to get approval to go to the outhouse too scared to spray the wasp nest taking down the pole and failing and smashing my hand and it had that big scab and I washed it with hand sanitizer bf that was all I had and maybe that’s what caused my blood clot but it happened so many weeks later how did it happen so much later. I was so into J in college junior year and then she told me the story about fucking that other guy when they were drunk. She even Skyped me. She loved that one guy and then he picked someone else and it ruined everything and I was always starving and eating my cereal too fast but I didn’t want to spend money buying more I only went to Cub like once we rode the bus and took so many pictures and I looked so happy in that moment. And R was there. Before he assaulted me. I didn’t want to touch his dick the memory of touching his dick is literally making me shake rn I need to stop it was so hard and small he was everywhere on campus he did whatever he wanted he was loud everyone loved him stop thinking about him!!!!!!!!!!!

My neck and arms are so tense rn what is wrong with me why did I have so many social problems putting my backpack in those cubbies when we went to eat I was so scared it would be stolen I took it with me I was the only one it was so stupid I was such an envarrassing person I’ve been so controlled in my life by embarrassment only the Asian kids ran they didn’t care what anyone thought of them we laughed at them that was so typical mocking any difference. I read the books of school history trying to understand the values and I finally did I didn’t fit in!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I have R and E and C.

The protests are dying down. We’re at the limit of change. It’ll take another death to rile this back up. That’s disgusting but I think it’s true. Things were done in Portland at about 9:30.

I feel sick. I feel legitimately sick.

I feel so sick and my ears are ringing great!!!!!!!!!!! And I saw T and her boyfriend and thought about how I want sex and I’m not fuckable. Which maybe I am. Maybe that’s my essential self. Unfuckable and insecure and anxious and scared of being different and scared of being judged and bc of this always already different and trying to be different so I stand out as a star but not wanting to stand out at the same time. Do I even like singing or like music or do I just want to be famous. I have been so confident that I would be famous. I’m so confident in my ideas. I’m so smart. No one can be more right than me. My co fife to self is despicable.

Maybe I loved being fifteen and being with M and being at A M F and two summers ago with O bc I wasn’t this disgusting insecure person but everyone liked me. I’ve been thinking that that person is my essential self. But maybe the whole thing is that thats NOT ME AT ALL. I’m not meant to be a star or be anyone I’m meant to be a worm and disappear and be nowhere and that’s why I do t have groups and that’s why no one liked me at undergrad and at the same time didn’t I keep myself out of groups on purpose so I would keep honoring high school? Like we keep honoring Leah. Just like I keep holding onto the pain of O to honor the relationship that we had and prove my real love for him. He’s moved on more than I could ever imagine moving on except that’s not true in the sense that I don’t know anything but I must be ABSOLUTELY clear with myself when I say that the reason it’s not true is because whatever I say is an assumption and I’m working on not making assumptions about other people at this point in my life bc I need to act on what people say bc I’m not at all a mind reader. And, I hope that he is thinking of me. But I’m playing with myself. He’s fine if he was here then he would be here. He might be in another state he might be in a whole other relationship.

Don’t fake yourself out. He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s moved on.

He had at least one other relationship.

He might not be single now.

He’s moved on.

He’s not coming back.

I need to finish this. I avoid the real point. Why does my brain do that. And I want to write down every thought. Why so many digressions

Okay then

I’m typing with my eyes closed sometimes which is something I used to do in high school while I was typing late into the night exactly like I am right now. S always lay facedown on his bed which I thought was fucking weird bc I only lay facedown to masturbate.

He did that in the day time

I kissed so many objects after reading the Star Wars novelization

We played Nanosaur at catholic school and public school.

The computers were in the portable

I never got to play as much as I wanted to

The computers were in the library and I played type to learn. I was watching Star Trek tng with my dad on a summer night and it enthralled me I couldn’t tell when special effects were bad at that age. We had to leave I had indoor soccer with Kirill’s dad and he was a star in the Soviet Union he said but who knows and I went to his house one time to play video games and it was a small apartment and I was so surprised. The preps took him in instantly but why not me WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME WHY IS MY GRIUP THE PPL WHO ARE WEIRD SS FUCK

We funked in the halls people laughed at how I didn’t know how to move myself or in anyway be in my body and I couldn’t let go why couldn’t I let go people who let go looked so cool Sam was our mascot at that high school duhduhduh day I didn’t know what tf I was doing there why was I in ASB it just seemed like the thing to do we tied I was relieved when I lost I missed the midnight going into the secret places in the school thing fuck my life I missed so many things I wanted

GOD DAMN JT

There were younger boys who went to pee in our one and only bathroom and they took their pants all the way down to their ankles and the older boys came in and made fun of them while they were still right there and I heard it and made sure not to be like the kindergarten boys so I wouldn’t be made fun of. I think I peed like that before that day. It didn’t matter??? Smooth white butts. There was one brown person in the class named Tharik. Maybe not but we were so white.

Is there anything else to remember about that moment?

Sinks where you pushed the bar at the feet to turn on the water

I’ve been to so many airport sinks and the urinals have no dividers

I always prayed no one else would be in the bathroom why was I so scared to pee beside someone I would be seen why didn’t I want to be seen? Other times I was dying to be seen. How did my desires change so much

Why was I obsessed with sex. I had fantasies of Hoth of magic school bus I was naked in so many. I didn’t want the doctor to examine my penis. I said can my mom do it instead and tell you. No he said but she can sit in the room. Okay he said. I was so scared. Why was I so scared. Why didn’t I handle it normally. Why I’m gods name would I want my mom to see my dick. What the fuck was wrong with me.

Is there ever a time I look back on myself and think wow that was a good decision I’m proud of that. No! I have happy moments like being the only freshman in honor choir or playing the zither or whatever it’s called with A

Am I more evolved than I was then

I choose not to act or do anything bc at least that way I can’t make any mistakes and not acting is also a mistake I can’t bear to do what I did in the past and then somehow I do it before I realize I’m doing it

Why was I obsessed with sex

I read about luke and Leia kissing in that movelization and I kissed so many things around the house trying to capture the description from the boom of how her lips felt. There were choose your own adventure books and i always imagined myself in them and unmade so many self insert fantasies where all the characters were still there. the boys were my friends and the girls were my lovers. I think OLL was where I read junior Jedi knights. We used to go to the library so much the old one and I read through so much Star Wars and Star Trek science fiction. I was never attracted to the boys. I never judged the stories I just enjoyed the imagination. And I read Ancient Greek mhths. I’m a fucking nerd and nothing nobody who got thrust into the center stage and suddenly I had some popularity and then I had that personality push and pull. Always being criticized. A criticized me and W criticized me after my recital like right after and A took down the program in Eugene and Ö tore me apart so many times including after the MC. Anneke was so fucking attractive.

God

I never should have had attention. I liked so much stupid nerd stuff. But I was cool in elementary school. I feel like wherever I am I try to make the stuff I like cool and bring people to me. I can’t fit into them. Music is a great way to do that bc everyone loves music.

I have always had false ideas of who I am but when I’m depressed I can be realistic. That’s why it’s good for me to be depressed. I’m a sinner and no good and deserve it. I deserve to feel bad. It’s penance. I deserve it.

That’s not what I should feel and that’s not what my brain feels but I write down stuff like that bc that’s what my heart is saying. Those could even be in quotes. That’s being said by a different me inside me if that makes any sense.

I’m so privileged. What do people think when they see me. Do I not have more followers and more story views bc I’m a fucking loser and that’s what people see? But I liked myself. I liked what I saw. I liked it. But it wasn’t or isn’t good enough for other people. My opinions grate. My opinions drive people away. Why do I always have such strong opinions.

I never do anything part way

I started masurbating so early. How did I find it

Don’t message back fast. They’re very inconsistent. You’re hoping for much more than they will ever give. You give what you look to receive. You don’t give what people deserve. You don’t give based on the real quality of your relationship but by what you want it to be or you give without regard for yourself and only regard for pleasing the other. A. W. O. D.

No boundaries. Too many boundaries. Inappropriate feelings. I do so much to avoid inappropriate feelings.

What’s inappropriate

Wrong

You should have sexual feelings for that person

You shouldn’t like people that much older or that much younger. I never knew him when he wasn’t an adult I stg

I can’t remember any sexual feelings at all in third grade. I remember so many times when I thought wby dont I like anyone. I remember like forcing myself to like K in fifth grade. I end up dating or whatever people I’m not attracted to. I see someone in them that isn’t the real them and then I expect them to act like that person

I guess I tried to change O. I’m the bad one

Idk if that’s true that I tried to change him.

But I definitely might say x is a good decision in my opinion. Stuff like that.

Am I asexual? The question doesn’t stop coming back to me.

Can I remember anything. I don’t fucking know.

I played with my penis from a time when I was very young.

W feels natural for me but wrong. That’s not who I am.

K doesn’t feel natural these days most of the time and idk why. Is she just a costume :( I don’t want her to be but maybe she is. I have to face all my inner voices. Avoiding them has hurt me a lot.

I don’t see people for who they are. For who they are inside I see them. Nope. That’s my projection. Who I think they could be which is another way of saying who I want them to be. Stupid stupid stupid.

Zuko

Rubbing my dick on my bed felt good. Rubbing it on blankets felt better. Pulling down my pants and then pulling down my underwear. Better and better and better. I didn’t think to masturbate with my hand for years. I went through so much shampoo. I came in so many showers. Once I was scared I would get my sister pregnant bc I came in the tub. I came in my grandparents’ bathrooms. Both of them. My dads dad doesn’t hardly seem like part of the family.

Why don’t i remember more?

Because there’s nothing else to remember.

Each experience is a different me. How will I ever know who the me me is. So many different selves. So many masks. A different person around every single person. Only O and D knew the full me. Not A or W. They were my sex friends and we were in a relationship. Sex was what I wanted. I turned into their emotional support doll. They didn’t support me. I don’t tell W things. She isn’t on my sinsta. I haven’t told her about it. She would be hurt that I didn’t. And that I wouldn’t add her. Don’t give people things they can’t handle. She doesn’t use my girl name. I wonder if O knows I changed my name online. It doesn’t matter. He’s not part of it.

She doesn’t understand a lot. A doesn’t understand a lot. There are these lines right. They’re not like me. But we have sex. Sex is so important to me bc they’re sex friends. But then I get sucked in emotionally. Same with O. We were sex friends that got emotional.

I never had sex that satisfied me.

There’s a gap of why sex why me. Etc. Why secret. I’ve always been a secret whore like lots of white girls.

I’m obsessed with symmetry too. I’m not normal. I hate seeing S’s name in my text suggestions or whatever they’re called. predictive text.

I’ve always been obsessed with symmetry. Idk where that came from. I can’t stand asymmetry in my body which ofc we all have bc nothing is perfect in nature in a mathematical sense.

Left right right left

Up left down right down left up right

I do that pattern constantly. Teeth tongue mouth eyes feet

I’ve done that since forever. Why

Idk

Nothing comes from nothing but that doesn’t mean it came from severe sexual trauma either

I’m trying to find trauma just find sexual thoughts in the past instead

Like my dad giving me that one shirt sex talk and how uncomfortable it was and how I thought about balls or how sex was always trash and we had to go to bed when our parents were watching a movie did they ever make out there was no physicality in their relationship ever. She has her couch my dad has his chair

I don’t want to be physical with them I do with everyone else maybe I’m the abuser maybe I was born that way I kissed everyone they didn’t want it maybe Mrs. H was right to punish me that way. I feel like my sexual interest started before kindergarten

Masturbatimg has always been fantasy time. Sometimes memory time. Sometimes creating fantasy memories. Sometimes living out things I read. Erotica really is the superior porn

I masturbated like crazy, and, I didn’t know any sexual terms. Bisexual is when the woman is older than the man LMAO

I think already in first grade or so I didn’t tell my parents about school. I didn’t want to. Everyone knew who we were. Big ass silver van. We always were the last to leave anything. Always talking like crazy. Public was our only freedom even though it was our fake selves. I kicked the rock into Mrs. G’s ankle. My mom shouted at me. We were just playing. AND I know that I knew I was being risky. We ran laps around the school. It was always hard for me. Running. I always hated it. I couldn’t push myself. That Mikaela or Michaela or however she spelled her name was ahead of me on the sidewalk. She was faster than me. We ran laps under the covered area. That was where we were allowed to play during rain time. I told Jesse she was dat and she said that’s a black mark on my soul and a sin. H E L L H E double L H E double hockey sticks

I peed my pants and somehow Mrs. H knew

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years ago

Text

Nights Were Mainly Made for Saying

It's possible. Emma is certain. She's going to fix this. She's going to save him. By time traveling. Which is totally, absolutely possible.

She's read about it. There's a theory.

So, no one has ever actually done it yet, but that doesn't mean she can't or they can't try and she just needs a little help. From Killian Jones. And his magic.

Rating: Like a very high T teetering on the edge of M AN: I wanted to write something spooky. So I wrote about witches and time travel and Hamilton references. Can we still make Hamilton references? Has the time passed for that? Who cares, this is a time travel fic. It’s also absurdly long. Just like...because. I have no excuse. You should probably listen to Arctic Monkeys’ entire discography because that’s totally the vibe I was going for. Also because Alex Turner may be a vampire. That joke will make sense later.

On Ao3 if that’s how you roll.

“Say that again.” “No.” “Swan.” “I know you heard me the first time,” Emma growls, trying to push her way through the half-open doorway. Killian, however, doesn’t move. If anything, he grows several feet, eyes widening and an expression on his face that appears torn between disbelief and incredulous.

And possibly furious.

Or worried.

Emma can’t really tell the difference.

This might have been a mistake.

She huffs, shoulders drooping with the force of her own frustration. “I don’t get why you’re being such a jerk about this,” she mumbles, kicking at his ankles like they’re friends or something.

They’re not... not friends. Not really. Killian’s been around for as long as Emma can remember because he’s been David’s partner for as long as Emma can remember and magical folk alway tend to flock towards each other.

It’s some kind of defense mechanism, she’s positive, a twist of their genetic makeup or something because magical folk are emotional and prone to immediate reaction and neither one of those things ever works out very well in the real world. So they’ve got to be around each other. To make sure no one else figures out they’re there.

Strength in numbers or whatever.

No one really knows how magic started or why it only appears in certain people, but they’re there and some sort of quasi-community and support system Emma never could have imagined when she was sitting in a foster home in Minnesota, certain the way lights always flickered around her was just a byproduct of an exceptionally difficult puberty.

Magic was in her blood. As they say. Or as Mary Margaret would say because Mary Margaret loved to say things like that and promise things like that and Emma had nearly collapsed when she felt the particular rush of her magic at freshman orientation.

It went from there. Mary Margaret never left Emma’s side, or vice versa, and David appeared sophomore year, a rush of power and positivity that was questionably good at brewing things and they found more magic in New York, of the literal and metaphorical variety, a family and a certainty and nothing bad was ever going to happen.

Except, of course, when one of your magical friends is murdered in cold blood, alone, without any suspects of any kind. Then, you know, the cliché loses a bit of its weight.

Emma kicks at Killian’s shin that time.

He scowls, lips twisted and head tilted at an angle that cannot possibly be good for his neck. And, for the first time since Emma marched to his front door fifteen minutes earlier, she takes a second to look at him. Really. Because he looks like shit. Really.

There are bags under his eyes and a hint of red in his gaze, like he’s gotten approximately forty-seven minutes of sleep in the last few days. His hair is longer than usual, curling behind his ears and the NYPD t-shirt he’s got on has a hole in the right sleeve.

“Swan, I swear to God,” Killian growls as soon as the toes of her boot collide with his ankle again. “If you don’t stop assaulting me, I’m going to--” “--What? What could you possibly threaten me with? Ignoring my requests again?”

“Oh, they’re requests now, are they?” “Obviously,” Emma sneers, and this is not going the way she thought it would at all. She, admittedly, did not think it was going to go great, but the whole thing has been a disaster from the get and she’s averaging less than forty-seven minutes of sleep a night.

“Strangely enough I’m not getting that at all.” “Because you’re being the most difficult person on the planet.” “I really don’t see how that’s true,” Killian argues, and, that time, Emma’s foot comes up against an invisible barricade. The pain ricochets up her thigh, lingering around her knee and there are not enough curses or spells for all the things she wants to do to Killian Jones.

And that, really, is her problem.

Because Emma doesn’t really like Killian, but she doesn’t really hate Killian and she knows he’s the only one who will even consider going along with this plan.

It’s a relatively crazy plan.

“That’s a cheap trick,” she accuses, but he just flashes her a grin and his eyes almost look normal. Emma has no idea what his eyes normally look like.

The lie tastes bitter on her tongue, even without saying it out loud.

“I hate to repeat myself, love, but, again, I really don’t see how that’s true.” “Magician.” “Ah, that’s rude.” “A fact,” Emma growls. He hasn’t taken the barrier down. He’s lifted his eyebrows instead, the smirk settling onto his face like it’s putting down roots. “Listen, I’m going to do this whether you want to help or not, so--”

She’s not entirely sure what happens after that.

It’s a rush of something, magic and feeling and a hint of emotion that may be concern or something fundamentally deeper and far more important than that, but it leaves Emma breathless anyway, mouth falling open as she tries to take it all in. Killian jerks forward, fingers wrapped around Emma’s wrist, like he’s nervous she’s going to start disappearing right then.

She’s fairly certain that’s not how the spell works.

His fingers are impossibly warm.

“I can’t keep doing nothing,” Emma says, voice dropping of its own accord. The words scratch their way out of her, fighting their way to the surface because they’ve been sitting in the pit of her stomach for weeks and Graham didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t deserve to be alone.

He didn’t deserve to die.

Emma is going to fix this. She’s a goddamn witch.

“There’s not anything for you to do, Swan.” “We both know that’s wrong.” Killian sighs, thumb tracing across the back of her wrist. “That’s all speculation. No one’s ever actually done it.” “That you know of.” “You are pulling at straws, love.” “If that’s what I have to do, then, yeah, fine, I’m pulling at straws.” Emma wishes her voice would pick a volume and stick with it. Instead, it cracks over every other syllable, tears welling in the corners of her eyes and stinging retinas that are in desperate need of a set sleep cycle. Killian doesn’t blink. “Graham was a good guy.” “I’m not questioning that. Good is a vast understatement.” “Don’t you want to know what happened?” Emma presses, and she’s starting to sound desperate to her own ears. “It’s...it’s driving me insane. There are too many coincidences for it to be the accident David thinks it is.” For half a second Emma thinks she imagined the next few words out of Killian’s mouth. For half a second she thinks she’s actually delved into complete and utter insanity. For half a second she’s terrified.

But Killian doesn’t blink and his thumb is still pressed flat against her skin and Emma’s lungs are incredibly grateful when she takes a deep breath.

“Say that again,” she whispers.

The smirk turns into a smile. “I feel like we’re going in circles, Swan.” “Killian, c’mon, I--” “--I think it was a witch.” Emma’s entire body sags when she exhales, head colliding with Killian’s chest and she barely considers the fact that he didn’t barricade that before she’s wrapping both her arms around him. She mumbles something into his shirt, nonsense that may just be thank you several dozen times and that doesn’t really make sense, but David wouldn’t listen and Mary Margaret couldn’t listen and Graham did not deserve to die.

Alone.

He died alone.

“Did you tell David that?” Emma mumbles, Killian’s head shake almost audible.

“He’s not interested in that. The department said it was cut and dry. Wrong place, wrong time, and a weak heart, but it was…”

He trails off, Emma’s heart thundering in her ears because she knows how that sentence is going to end. It’s impossible. The medical records don’t make any sense. It wasn’t a heart attack or a stroke or anything remotely human.

It was magical and wrong and Emma is going to fix it.

Before it happens.

“You don’t know this is going to work,” Killian continues, a warning there that Emma ignores.

“I’m more optimistic about it than I was, like, four days ago.” “Why is that?” “Because I tried four days ago and it didn’t work.”

“Emma!”

She jerks back at the sound of her own name, eyebrows furrowed because they’re not friends and he never calls her that, but there’s a desperation to his voice that gives her pause. She bites her lip. “It didn’t work,” Emma repeats. “So, you know...no harm, no foul. Or whatever.” “That’s not whatever. That is…” Killian exhales sharply, tongue flashing between his lips and Emma has to dig her heels into the floor to stop herself from moving. “You can’t do that again, love. Please.” Emma nods slowly, an agreement without considering what she’s agreeing to. She can see the muscles in Killian’s throat move when he swallows though, and he’s going to do damage to his jaw if he holds it any tighter. “I don’t think anyone can do it alone,” she says. “I...it’s not simple magic.” “Because going back in time should be impossible.”

“Not in theory.” “And what happens if it doesn’t work?” Emma shrugs, a flush of fear creeping up her spine and settling at the base of her skull and the magic seems to spark in her fingertips. Killian laces his hand through hers without a word. “That’s why you’re here,” she says, and those words have a weight to them as well, a certainty she didn’t expect, but kind of needs because she’s not entirely what will happen if this doesn’t work.

Killian’s lips twitch. “And you didn’t think to ask David or Mary Margaret?” “David won’t and Mary Margaret can’t. You know that. And…” “And?” “You also know you’re better at magic than both of them. Don’t laugh at me.” “Why would I laugh when you’re complimenting me so nicely, Swan?” Emma flicks his chest, another twist of his eyebrows and quirk of his lips and his fingers are back around her wrist as quickly as if he’d teleported them there. He might have. He’s very good at magic.

He’s very good at everything.

It’s frustrating.

“We can’t just go into this blind, you know,” Killian says. “There’s got to be a plan and an escape route and--” “--And I’ve got that. All of it. Well, most of it.” “Most of it?” “You’re going to be the worst time travel partner, I know it.” “That’s assuming this works.” “It’s really not helping my confidence or my magic that you keep pointing out the likelihood of failure,” Emma mutters, trying to pull her hand back to her side. Killian’s fingers tighten. “The books are clear. It’s all about getting the incantation right and, well, you know...having enough power. I don’t...it didn’t work on my own and you’re the strongest magic I know. So either you agree or you don’t and we just...we never know what happened and we don’t fix it.” Killian considers that for a moment, eyes tracing across Emma’s face like he’s looking for the lie or the inevitable jab at his character. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything. She holds her breath.

He taps his thumb on the back of her wrist again.

“You want to fix it?”

Emma hisses. “Was that not obvious?” “It felt wrong to assume.” “He shouldn’t be dead.” “The world’s not all that interested in that, I’m afraid.” “Yeah, well, fuck the world,” Emma says, and Killian’s eyes widen. “Listen. I…” “Ok.”

She’s positive she imagined it again.

That’s a frustrating habit to have picked up in the last few moments.

Emma gasps, stumbling back at the certainty in those two letters and the force of the magic around them and she’s certain they’re setting off several metaphorical alarm bells to every other being in a hundred-block radius, but ok is echoing between her ears and she’s almost hopeful this will work.

“Ok?” Killian hums. “You’re right. He shouldn’t be dead and I don’t think he died the way we’ve been told. There’s something wrong here. So, if you want to figure it out, then...seems wrong not to help somehow.” “What a gentleman.” “Something like that.”

“Alright,” Emma says, drawing the word out cautiously like she’s nervous he’s going to change his mind. “So, um…” “I’m not particularly interested in time traveling with you immediately, love. And if we’re going to assume our success is based entirely on the strength of our magic, then I’d suggest we aim for a well-placed full moon on Halloween.” “There’s a full moon on Halloween?” “You’re a very observant witch.” Emma clicks her tongue, but he’s also got a point. Several of them. She hopes she doesn’t regret this. She hopes this works.

“Just like that?” Emma asks. “Full moon on Halloween and you’re ready to go back in time and prevent a murder?” “You came to me, Swan.” That’s another point.

Emma’s going to scream. Or curse him. Or something else. Something less aggressive, but possibly just as drastic as cursing.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I did.” The floor creaks when he moves, stepping away from the doorframe and Emma shudders as soon as his arms wrap around her. It’s like...something or everything and the magic in her veins practically sings, a certainty and confidence and she buries her face against Killian’s chest without asking.

His fingers drift across her spine, tracing between her shoulder blades like he’s following a path he can see and Emma lets her eyes flutter shut. She’s exhausted and worried, but she’s also tired of both of those emotions, and even more tired of seeing Mary Margaret cry and David ignore the possibility that there’s magic in New York they’re not aware of. So Emma doesn’t move, just breathes in the scent of laundry detergent and something that smells a bit like salt and it’s as if time gives them both a second to be.

Just to be.

Emma assumes that means time is on their side.

She appreciates it.

“You can’t tell David or Mary Margaret,” Killian says, the words far too loud in a moment Emma didn’t particularly want to end.

“No, no, I won’t. They wouldn’t...they’d try to stop us and--” “--I know, love.” Emma doesn’t think he realizes he keeps switching between endearments – he’s got nicknames for everyone, sarcasm and smirks and a distinct lack of sincerity that always seems to fall by the wayside whenever he glances her direction. She’s not sure he realizes that either. And she’s got no idea when she did.

Probably before deciding to time travel with Killian Jones.

“If I say that we should meet at moonrise, are you going to actually make fun of me?” Emma asks, leaning back in just enough time to see his tongue find the corner of his mouth.

“Absolutely.”

“Ok. Good.” “Maybe a few minutes before moonrise. Just to be safe.” “That’s what we’re being? Safe?” Killian nods. “When playing with uncharted magic, yes, but ...you’re right. I think this could work.”

The magic around them grows, strong enough that Emma is surprised she can’t actually see it. She can feel it though, like it’s cracking through the air and weaving between them, connections and knots, all of them twining together and twisting and it’s not as terrifying as it probably should be. It’s comforting.

“Moonrise,” Emma repeats, taking a step back and Killian’s hand falls to his side. “Here?” “Less likely for David or Mary Margaret to appear unannounced, yeah?” There’s something on the edge of his voice, but Emma’s too preoccupied with her pulse and her magic to linger too long on it. She hopes that’s not a mistake. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Ok, so, uh, it’s a date?” Killian chuckles lightly, hair grazing his eyebrows when he nods. “It’s a date, Swan.”

She sends Mary Margaret and David an email.

In case this doesn’t work.

Or something.

It seems less hokey than taping a note to their apartment door – which is only a few doors away from Emma’s apartment door, but it also feels a little less emotional and a bit more detached and Emma doesn’t bring anything except her phone with her when she walks fifteen blocks to Killian’s building.

He answers on the third knock, a different NYPD shirt and sneakers that look new. There are candles everywhere, more than few stacks of paperwork littering the floor. Emma’s eyes dart around the room, not sure what to land on because she’s now only a little worried they’re going to burn to death before they can even start the spell.

“What the hell is this?” she asks. “And did you buy new shoes?” Killian doesn’t quite glare at her, but it’s an admirable effort. “Why is David already texting me?” “I asked you first.” “This is...not a big deal. Did you tell David and Mary Margaret what you were doing?” “No!” “Swan.” “Not...directly.” “Emma,” Killian groans, and she wishes he would stop doing that. It’s messing with her mind and her center and she needs both of those to be as perfect as possible. Her magic is vibrating, she’s positive.

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now. We are running out of time.” “We are literally trying to time travel. We have more time than we could possibly know what to do with.”

“So then ask me this question when we’re in the past,” Emma mutters. “Did you work on the pronunciation for the spell? That’s important.” “I’ve cast spells before, Swan.” They’re both dancing around each other, deflections and distractions and neither one of those seem entirely appropriate a few minutes ahead of what they’re trying to accomplish, but it’s also the basis for their entire relationship.

Emma wishes her mind would shut the hell up.

She can hear kids laughing on the street below them, trick-or-treaters and humans without any knowledge of the magic that exists around them and sometimes threatens them and if there’s a witch out there killing other beings, then they’ve got a moral obligation to stop it.

Together.

She sighs, a breath of air she probably needs, and it takes less than a full moment for Killian to move into her space. His fingers are still warm when they brush over hers, twisting her hand to place something in her palm.

It’s a moonstone.

“Where did you get this?” Emma asks in disbelief.

“I’ve had it.” “What?” “Hold onto it, ok?” Emma nods slowly, lips suddenly dry because at some point her mind decided to start breathing through her mouth and moonstones are supposed to protect travelers. She doesn’t ask if he has one for himself.

“Alright,” Killian continues, grabbing several candles and moving them around a photo on his coffee table. Emma nearly chokes. It’s the crime scene, police tape obvious and a body even clearer and her vision spins as soon as the realization slams into.

He must feel the shift in her magic because he spins as soon as Emma’s breath hitches, a mumbled hey, hey and something that sounds like it’s alright, love and she nods as soon as his thumb grazes her cheek.

“Fine,” Emma promises. “I’m fine. You seriously know how to say all the words, right? I don’t want to end up, like, in the prehistoric age.” “I highly doubt that’s how it would work, Swan. Plus, every theory I’ve read says if you want to travel, you need visual of where you’re going. We’ve got that.” “You’ve got that. Why do you have that?” The tips of Killian’s ears go red. It’s a tell. It’s been a tell for years. “I already told you. You weren’t the only one with suspicions.” “You’ve been researching this!” “That’s a very dirty-sounding word. I’ve been...looking into it. That’s all.” Emma hums, but that realization seems to crash into her with the force of several eighteen-wheelers and the stone in her hand feels as if it’s vibrating. “Sure,” she says, taking a step around him and it feels like a million miles. “Alright, so we focus on the picture and the moment and--” “--Cast the spell? Yeah, that’s usually how it works.” “I’m going to kill you and leave your body in the past.” “That is violent.” “Happy Halloween.”

Killian barks out a laugh, teeth finding his lower lip. “C’mon, Swan. We’re getting very close to the witching hour.” “That’s not how that phrase works at all.”

“C’mon.”

She doesn’t argue that time, sinking onto the far ground at the far edge of the coffee table. It isn’t easy to keep her eyes away from the photos, but she’s going to lose her nerve if she sees, and Killian is right – it’s time.

“You ready?” he asks, like this wasn’t her idea and Emma nods brusquely, taking his hand when he holds it out. Still warm. “Try to stay in rhythm when we talk. The world likes that, usually.” Emma laughs, but it’s not a joke and her whole body starts to tremble as soon as Killian waves his hand over the candles. The flames jump, a flash of blue light and energy and she knows she’s speaking, can hear her own voice echo around them, but it feels like she’s watching it as well, hovering above the scene like she’s totally detached.

“Buailín, bean an taistealaigh, féachaint ormsa,” Killian says, care on every letter. His fingers don’t leave Emma’s, growing tighter with every moment. Her palm is sweaty, she can feel the moisture, making it difficult to hold her grip, but he doesn’t let go.

She digs her nails into the back of his palm.

“Cibé an bhfuil mé ag taisteal san aer, ar thalamh nó ar muir,” Emma continues.

The flames shift again, a flash of red and anger – the emotion almost palpable in the air, as if the air is angry at them for trying. Emma squeezes her eyes closed, doing her best to fight off the wave of nausea in her stomach, but the smell only gets more potent.

It’s like burned rubber and ashes, disappointment and fury and none of it is right. She’s shaking now, quick jerks that send pain through all of her limbs and into the base of her spine, moisture pooling at the bottom of her neck.

The smell grows.

And Emma gasps when she hears it, a cry of despair that seems to rip across all of time. Her eyes snap open, if only to check that she’s not actually being ripped apart as well. It feels that way, agony and an emptiness that seems to stretch out as far as she can see.

Her eyes widen, trying to find an end, but it only looks more vast the longer she stares ahead, a never-ending wasteland of darkness and nothing.

Alone.

The word flashes in front of her gaze like a neon sign, taunting and Emma shakes her head. It doesn’t move. The feeling grows, blooming in the very center of her chest like there’s a black hole there, and Emma can’t breathe.

She tries to lick her lips or swallow back the cry in her throat, but she feels like she’s standing on the edge of something, any movement certain to leave her falling into the abyss in front of her.

“Swan!” She doesn’t hear it at first. It’s nothing more than a wisp and want, but he yells again and squeezes her hand and Emma grips the moonstone as tightly as she can.

“You’ve got to finish it, love,” Killian says, and, that time, Emma hears him perfectly. “You can do it. I know you can.”

Emma shakes her head. “I don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Swan. You’ve got to say the words.”

“Cosúil le talisman--” she starts.

“--i mo phóca clochfaidh mé.”

His hand never leaves hers. And everything goes dark.

Emma wakes with a start, eyes scanning the room and there’s no one there.

She sits up slowly, wincing at the ache in her right palm and her fingers barely unclench. There’s a moonstone in her hand.

“Oh shit,” Emma breathes. “It worked.”

It takes her a frustratingly long amount of time to figure out where she is, her apartment looking almost foreign without the empty takeout containers and piles of half-finished laundry she’d accumulated in the weeks after Graham’s death.

She shouldn’t be in her apartment.

She should be in Killian’s apartment.

She should–– “Oh shit,” she hisses again, leaping out of bed and wobbling as soon as her feet hit the floor. “Killian! Killian, are you here?” Silence.

Painful, vaguely terrifying silence.

“Killian?” Emma hates how small her own voice sounds, but bits and pieces are starting to come back and she’s not sure this worked the way she thought it would. Something about this is wrong. There shouldn’t have been that noise or those feelings, a flash of magic Emma is certain wasn’t hers. Or Killian’s.

Killian.

She jumps at the knock on the door, a quick rap of knuckles that’s practically exuding impatience. Emma swallows, tapping her fingers against the pajama pants she’s inexplicably wearing. Oh. Oh.

They hadn’t gone back to the crime scene, but they’d gone back to the day. And Emma had woken up in her apartment wearing pajama pants with a snowflake pattern on them because Mary Margaret had bought them for her last Christmas. It was a very bad joke.

The knock is louder the second time.

Emma twists her wrist, magic crackling between her fingers as she jogs towards the door. He’s halfway to a third knock when she swings it open.

“Swan,” Killian mutters, a note of wonder in his voice and she belatedly realizes it might be the first time he’s seen inside her apartment. They’re not really friends.

“Hey.” It’s an absurd response, all things considered, but Emma’s brain is firing a mile a minute and her magic is moving even quicker and she’s not entirely prepared for the look on Killian’s face. His entire expression shifts down, lips falling and shoulders sagging.

She’s almost surprised there’s not some soft of blue aura around him, just to really drive the point home.

“Oh,” he nods. “Ok, I um--”

He moves to walk away, which really is almost more absurd than Emma’s hey, but then she waves her hand and he crashes into an invisible wall that wasn’t there two seconds before. Emma assumes that means she’s won.

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t...don’t go. Please.” Killian turns around slowly, the heel of his hand rubbing his jaw. “Did you just magic a wall for me to run into?” “I wasn’t really thinking.” “Yuh huh.” “Were you...were you thinking? When you came over here?” “You’re doing a rather abysmal job of beating around the bush here, Swan.”

Emma scoffs, waving her hand again so no one else is injured by her invisible wall. In the past. They’re in the past. “That’s because I’m not entirely sure of the rules.” “I think we’ve broken right by all of those, don’t you?” “Look who’s beating around the bush now,” Emma accuses, reaching forward to stab a finger into his chest before she can reconsider it. His fingers curl around her elbow, another expression that she’s possibly hoarding or recording for posterity, and she can’t think when his tongue drags across his lips. “What exactly do you remember?” “About time traveling with you?” “Oh my God.” “Enough that I realized where we were when I woke up this morning. I’m going to go ahead and assume you remember too?” Emma nods. “That was…” “Horrendous?” “Yeah, something like that.” “Did you hear the screaming?” Emma asks, but one glance at Killian’s face is enough of an answer. “I didn’t expect that.” “Neither did I. And I don’t think it was time.” That catches her by surprise. “What? What was it then?” “I think it was the person who killed Graham.” Emma’s eyes widen, and she’s glad Killian is in front of her so she can rest her palm flat against his chest. “But that noise. That wasn’t--” “--We didn’t think it was human, love.”

“That didn’t sound like a witch,” Emma argues. “That sounded like...I don’t even know what. Every horrible thing in the world. That can’t be right.” “If you’ve got another suggestion, I’m all ears.” Emma scowls. She doesn’t have another suggestion. She’s got negative suggestions. “You want some coffee?” And, really, she shouldn’t be keeping track, but Killian’s face keeps doing things and responding to her and he hasn’t tried to move her hand away from him. So, she adds that expression to the list she’s only maybe kind of keeping and tries to smile like any of this is normal and Killian’s step is almost steady when he crosses the threshold.

He puts four spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee.

And they try to come up with a plan.

It’s a garbage plan. It’s a garbage, shit, terrible plan and Emma can’t help the whimper that falls out of her as soon as Killian’s phone goes off, David’s frantic voice on the other end because Graham’s dead and they’ve done all this before.

David only looks a little stunned when they show up at the crime scene together.

“What the…” he mumbles, shaking his head like it’s all a dream and Emma wishes it was.

She and Killian had left her apartment hours earlier, patrolling the twenty blocks around where Graham was found. There wasn’t anything. No clues. No nothing. Everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

And Graham looked even more pale in person than in the photos.

Emma turned on the spot, head colliding with the jut of Killian’s shoulder as he tried to tug her closer to his side.

David’s eyes were going to fall out of his head.

“What the hell is happening right now?” he demands. “How the hell did you get here so fast? How did both of you get here?” Killian ignores all three questions. “What’s your gut reaction to this?” “What?” “Your gut reaction, Nolan. Now!” David flinches at the acid in Killian’s voice, gaze flitting from his partner to Emma and back again. It reminds her of a pinball machine. “The coroner thinks it’s a heart attack,” David mumbles. “No outward signs of struggle and no witnesses and--” “--That’s not what I asked.” “What the hell are you getting at? You’re making it sound like you’re looking for something nefarious here.”

Killian sighs, letting his cheek rest on the top of Emma’s head. They’re not friends. They’re not friends. They’re time-travel partners. Who failed. Completely. And immediately.

David appears to be choking.

“You’ve got to tell me what’s going on with you two.”

Both Killian and Emma ignore that as well.

“There wasn’t anything, David?” she asks instead. “Nothing suspicious?” “Should there be?” “I don’t know.” “Sure you don’t.” Emma rolls her eyes, falling back on tried and true when nothing feels like that. Killian’s arm tightens around her shoulders. “What was Graham doing here?” Emma presses. “We’re not anywhere near his apartment.” “It’s a city, Em. People go out. Right?” She’s positive he doesn’t mean for that last question to sound as unsure as it does, but the world appears to be playing one long trick-or-treat joke on her and Emma can feel the tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, I guess,” she mutters.

Her eyes dart back towards Graham, though, medics and the coroner and she can dimly make out the crinkle of a body bag unfolding. Killian's mumbling in her ear, quiet promises and assurances that don’t make any sense at all, particularly with David glowering at both of them.

“There wasn’t anything, Swan,” Killian says, not for the first time that day.

“That is impossible.” He chuckles against her hair. “Yeah, that seems to be the theme.”

“We didn’t do anything. We didn’t change a single thing.” “What?” David shouts, drawing the attention of several uniform officers. He waves them off, shifting on his feet and one of the streetlights above them flickers.

“Don’t do that,” Killian warns. His fingers are moving now, tiny semi circles on Emma’s shoulder that seem as natural as the breathing she desperately needs to do.

“I’m not doing anything. Why did you get here so fast?” “We were in the area.” “We?” Killian glares, turning Emma on the spot and resting both hands on her arms. She feels kind of dizzy. She assumes that’s a byproduct of time travel. It’s probably not.

It’s definitely not.

“Maybe we were wrong, love.” “You are lying to me,” Emma hisses. “Right to my face. You know this wasn’t a heart attack.” David curses again, stomping his foot for good measure. Emma doesn’t blink. Killian inhales sharply. “I don’t think we did it right, Swan,” he says, soft and cautious like speaking too loudly will make it real.

“Did what right?” “That noise. Whatever it was. It shouldn’t have been there. And I think it’s got something to do with us. And Graham.” Emma sighs, an agreement sitting on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t say it. She’s far too busy crying.

Killian doesn’t flinch – again. Just lets her head crash into his chest and holds onto her, ignoring whatever sounds David is making as several different police officers try to get them to move. There’s a gurney working its way through the crime scene.

“C’mon, Swan,” Killian says. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

She lets him direct her back towards her apartment, never asking how he knows about hot chocolate or the cinnamon she sprinkles on top. She sits in the corner of her couch, crying even after the tears stop falling.

And they don’t try to come up with another plan.

There’s not anything to say.

Something is wrong.

They just don’t know what.

Emma has no idea what time it is when her eyes start to flutter, but it must be close to midnight, Killian shifting slightly next to her. Her heart stutters. “Hey, hey,” she says sharply, grasping at the side of his jeans like he’s about to disappear. “Don’t...um, don’t go. Please.” He turns slowly, staring at her with an expression she’ll probably think about every time she wakes up and just before she goes to sleep.

He nods.

“Yeah, ok, Swan.”

She falls asleep easily, her head on Killian’s thigh and his fingers toying with the ends of her hair and it’s almost enough that Emma doesn’t hear the scream as soon as the clock in her kitchen ticks twelve.

Emma wakes with a start, eyes scanning the room and there’s no one there.

She blinks, the frustrating sense of familiarity tugging at the back of her brain. There shouldn’t be anyone there. She’s home. In her apartment. Where she lives. Alone.

It’s...she can’t remember what day it is.

The phone on her nightstand is already ringing, a flash of color and vibrations and Emma hates the little lurch her heart makes when she notices the name.

Killian Jones.

She nearly knocks the phone on the ground in an effort to pick it up, slamming it against her ear. “Hi,” she says, and it comes out like a sigh.

“Hi.” “What day is it?” “My phone claims it’s September 12th.” Emma drops her phone.

She yanks the blankets away from her legs, staring wide-eyed at the pajamas she’s wearing again. Or still. Or, maybe, again. Words get confusing when time travel is involved.

And Emma has never hated a joke Christmas gift more in her entire life.

“Fuck.”

He’s yelling her name into the phone, loud enough that it nearly makes Emma laugh because the whole thing is absurd and impossible and they probably should have discussed leaving the past more. Emma just assumed it would...happen.

Magically.

God.

“Swan?” “Yeah, yeah,” Emma mutters, nearly falling out of the bed as she gets her phone back to her ear. “Still here.” “So, uh, it appears we’ve done a few things wrong here, love.” “You can say that again.” “Was that a joke?” “Not an intentional one.” Killian hums, and Emma pinches the bridge of her nose, the threat of a headache pulsing behind her left eye. “Ok,” she continues. “So. What do we do? Are we sure it’s still September 12th?” “I really doubt my phone would lie to me. Or NY1.” “NY1 is incapable of lying. Did he read the newspapers?” “Same as they were yesterday.” “Holy shit.” “Those were my sentiments exactly.”

“What do we do?” Killian makes a noise, not quite words and something that sounds a hell of a lot like confusion. “Try to find something again? Maybe it’s a gift from the universe?” “That seems like an awfully chipper mindset.” “Ah, the power of positive thinking. Also I just watched the same news story about a school in Crown Heights that’s getting its first-ever playground for the second time in as many days and it’s done wonders to my mindset about the world.” Emma laughs, easy and normal. She imagines Killian smiles. “You want to come over and drink more of my coffee and come up with a plan that, this time, doesn’t suck?” “I thought you’d never ask, Swan.”

It takes a full week before Emma believes the plan is impossible.

The plan continues to suck. Or sucks even more and Emma is standing next to Killian at a crime scene she’s certain she can describe in minute detail at this point.

For the seventh straight day.

David stormed away from them in a huff five minutes before – as soon as Killian growled walk away, Detective when David spotted his fingers wrapped around Emma’s – and no one’s paid them a second glance since. They’re standing stock still, a few inches of space between them, but Killian hasn’t tried to move his hand and Emma is gripping it like several metaphorical anchors.

She wonders why Graham looks so pale if it was a heart attack.

It wasn’t a heart attack.

“At what point do we just throw in the white flag?” Emma asks, not taking her eyes away from the coroner. His name is Victor. They learned that on the third day.

Killian turns towards her slowly, eyes frustratingly blue and decidedly distracting. His expression is unreadable. “Why would we do that?”

“There’s nothing here, Killian. We’ve searched every corner within fifty blocks. Nothing has changed. We haven’t done anything.” Emma’s voice cracks on the last word, an anger she’d been doing her best to avoid. And neither one of them have acknowledged the very real possibility that they may be stuck on September 12th for the rest of their lives.

They’ve got no escape plan.

She should have prepared better. She thought her magic would react better. Her magic, however, seems to be at the crux of Emma’s problems. It’s as if it’s developed its own rhythm in the last few days, a tide that’s coursing through every inch of her, warming her from the inside out and keeping her slightly off-kilter. It boils under her skin, a determination to do something because they haven’t talked about that noise either.

The noise that pounds in Emma’s memory and lingers on the edge of her consciousness every single night. At midnight. Every single night.

“Maybe there isn’t anything to do,” Killian whispers, and Emma doesn’t miss the defeat there.

“Hence my white flag joke.” “You’ve got a habit of making very poorly timed jokes, love.” “It’s a very misplaced defense mechanism. I think it drives Mary Margaret insane.” “I sincerely doubt that.” She doesn’t need the rush of feeling shooting down her arm to know he means it, the honestly in his voice strong enough to permanent damage to the space-time continuum. He nearly smiles when she meets his gaze.

“That was nice,” Emma mutters.

“It happens from time to time.” She nods, pulse fluttering and Killian’s eyebrows shift when he feels the change in her magic. “I don’t know what we’re missing. There’s got to be something. What did we do wrong?” “I don’t know.” “I”ll be honest and tell you that’s not the answer I was hoping for.”

He laughs, more than a little sarcastic, and for one absolutely, insane moment Emma is certain he’s going to kiss her. He stares at her like he’s about to, eyes tracing over her face and lingering for a moment on her lips, but then he blinks and it’s over and they’re still stuck in some weird Groundhog Day situation with no new clues and a terrifying shriek to end every day.

She probably wouldn’t have argued the kiss.

The corner has to ask them to move out of the way of the gurney.

God.

“I think we’ve got some time to figure it out, Swan.” “Was that a joke?” “Probably worse than yours, right?” “Decidedly.” Killian grins, not quite as exhausted as it’s been while they’ve been chasing ghosts and possible magic and Emma chews on her lip to remind herself that they’re not really friends. She can’t figure out why he agreed to help her.

She can’t figure out how he’s not furious she’s inadvertently trapped them in the past.

“Hot chocolate?” he asks, and Emma nods out of habit and want. Killian’s smile widens. “Good. I’ve got some theories about marshmallow to chocolate ratio I want to test out.”

They eventually decide that the optimum number of marshmallows in a coffee mug is seven, which seems kind of arbitrary, but Killian is quick to point out that it’s magical, Swan and Emma is willing to be charmed. So she doesn’t argue.

And she doesn’t say anything when, this time, he slides down next to her on the couch, pulling her flush against his chest with an arm around her waist and her hair in his eyes.

It’s comforting, safe and warm and a slew of positive adjectives that are probably as impossible as getting out of whatever loop they’re in because Emma’s breath catches as soon as her eyes close and the sound echoes off the walls of her apartment.

He finds her hide-a-key the next morning, letting himself into her apartment with a smile and coffee in hand. Emma blinks sixteen times at the sight.

“You’ve got to move that, Swan,” Killian says, groaning when he almost hands her his over-sugared coffee. “It took me almost no time to find.” “You’re a cop. And magic. You are literally made to find secret things.” “Made?” “Ask me that question again after I’ve finished the coffee.” Killian chuckles, dropping onto the edge of Emma’s bed. She watches him over the top of her coffee cup, a forced energy and certainty that should probably grate on her nerves more. She finds it kind of endearing.

Mostly because she’s kind of hoping he’s doing it for her.

She’s, like, seventy-five percent positive he’s doing it for her.

“What’s your deal?” Emma asks, and Killian arches an eyebrow.

“I saw that Crown Heights story again today.” “And?” “And I think we should take a day off from crime-fighting.” “What?” “I think you heard me the first time, love,’ he drawls, letting his hand rest on her outstretched leg. “And if we’re going to be stuck here for awhile, then we’ve got some time to...do other things.” “That’s insane.”

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “That’s practical.” “How you figure?” “You hear the noise last night?”

Emma nearly chokes on her coffee, Killian’s expression turning serious. “Yeah, I did,” she says. “It sounded worse, didn’t it?” “Like it was getting ripped apart. So I think we’ve got to change our approach, Swan. We’ve exhausted this avenue of the search, it’s time to find something different.” “By ignoring the search completely.” “Yes, exactly that. You ever been to Veselka?”

“The pierogi place?” “I think they have other things besides pierogies,” Killian argues, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and it would be really nice to not spend an entire day thinking about death. “But the pierogies are supposed to be legendary. Or so the rumors say.” “You’ve never been there?”

The question lingers in the air around them, buoyed by mutual magic and possible hope and Emma burns her tongue when she all but gulps down the rest of her coffee. Killian shakes his head again.

“Not once. But I’ve got a deep appreciation of Polish food.”

Emma scoffs, still charmed. Consistently. For the past week. Despite the lingering scent of death. “I really like the idea of a mass quantity of potatoes stuffed into some kind of pasta thing.”

“It’s a date then.” “Is this you picking me up?” “Something like that.” Killian stands up, offering a hand and another smile, or possibly the same smile, and Emma’s going to let him move her hide-a-key. “Get showered and we’ll go. A whole day of doing things we’ve never done.” “You’re very optimistic.” He doesn’t answer, but Emma thinks she hears him say something like that again as she turns on the water and they order every single pierogi option Veselka offers. The waitress looks at them like they’re insane.

They honestly might be.

Oh hey, there’s a second chapter. It’s also on Ao3.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs #i am just a bitter old doctor who fan #who is constantly like I COULD WRITE TIME TRAVEL #so here is some time travel #with kissing

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oc-rehab-centre · 6 years ago

Text

[HNK Rant/Review] Travis Akasaki Aizawa

Hello guys, gals and other gendered pals~

So, it has been awhile since our last post on this site - but it’s about time for another one, in my opinion. This is mainly because I’ve found myself getting quite irked with a certain OC who seems so incredibly out of place in the fandom he is meant to be in - Houseki No Kuni.

This OC is “Travis Akasaki Aizawa” or White Sapphire, and is owned by Travis Akasaki Aizawa on Amino. We’re going to discuss what makes this character seem so out of place, the major flaws of this character - and the lessons we can learn from this OC.

Artist: Nagis (Ibispaint)

Part 1 - Biography Analysis

There is not that much information in Travis’ bio on the Land of the Lustrous Amino - but what is there is... not the clearest and full of errors. I don’t know for certain if the user’s first language is English, so I won’t give too much thought to the awkward sentence structures and typos.

Nick Name: Travis

Full Name: Travis Akasaki Aizawa

In the Houseki No Kuni universe, gems do not have ‘given names’. Sure, in some cases - they have nicknames, like Alexandrite who goes by human nicknames like Alex-chan and Lexi-chan, but for something as random as Travis Alasalo Aizwa, let alone Travis seems completely out of place and irrelevant. It does not relate at all with the type of gem Travis is, which is apparently a mix of Opelite and Sapphire. The creator revealed that Travis’ name was given to him by his Sensei - which doesn’t make things any less random and out of place. since the name is a combination of Western and East Asian names, and adds literally nothing to his character.

Gen species: MixtenGem (not a normal species)

*inhale* Okay, no. This breaks the canon immensely. I cannot stand when in universes with very set species - when people introduce new ones. In Houseki No Kuni, there are three (humanoid/sentient) species: the Gems, the Admirabilis and the Moon People. While I can understand that a Mixtengem is likely a subspecies of sorts - the creator’s explanations of it not only show a poor understanding of science and chemistry, but is just a strange mish-mash of lore from various fandoms. I would suggest just completely omitting this idea, it detracts from the OC more than it adds, and there is really very little that makes this character appealing to a Houseki No Kuni fan.

Gem: Opelite+Sapphire

Age: 49800 years old

I have no problem with the gem - but the age, holy fuck, that age... That is a little much, even for a gem. The timeline for Houseki No Kuni is rather obscure, we don’t know when the humans spit into the three canon species, but this is older by the canon gems by a long shot. Yellow Diamond is the oldest Gem we know the age of and they are just shy of 3,800 years old at this point. I would recommend making Travis closer to the age of the known gems, if anything.

Hardnes: 7.2

This is a very strange hardness, considering Opalite has a hardness of 5.5-6.5 Mohs and Sapphire has a hardness of 9 Mohs. This number is not even between these gems. Maybe the parts of Travis which are Opalite should be 5.5=6.5 while the Sapphire parts are 9. I’m not sure if this has anything to do with the Mixtengem thing, in all honesty, I couldn’t understand the logic after reading through it a few times.

Work partners: Nagisa, Ray

I’m imagining these are more of those Mixtengems. Same thing applies - this idea of human names is a very out of place trait.

Team: Team 2 (The Protector)

Like: Ray,Zero,Hosuh,Cryaotic,Nagisa, Daniel,Yusei,Stampy,Sam,Jett,Grian Sensei,and Vera

Dislike: lizzy,Amy,and Steveen (because they betray him and they become one of the lunarium team)

Alright. Let’s talk about some of the names here. I’m sure some of these names look familiar. Cryaotic? Grian, at the very least? I didn’t have to do much research to find out these names - and let me say, this was my immediate reaction:

For those who haven’t caught on - some of the characters listed here - are YouTubers. Yes - YouTubers. It is quite obvious that Travis’ creator is incorporating their love for YouTubers and the YouTube fandom into their OC. I just... It is bad to use inspiration from other fandoms for an OC of a specific fandom. This is like - making an OC for Sword Art Online with a character named “Naruto”. (Just trying to make a reference that makes sense.)

The YouTube Fandom and the Houseki No Kuni Fandom are just two fandoms that should not blend when making an OC for one universe. Sure, a YouTube x Houseki No Kuni crossover/AU could work - but do not put an AU into your OC’s canon biography!

I’ve got no beef with the YouTube Fandom nor the YouTubers, but they are out of place in this OCs biography.

Job : Day guard/ morning patrol, help the other find herbs , and report (some times help Nagisa)

Notes + Summary

And, that is all there is to this character’s biography, really. Here are some of the major flaws, I already discussed but will discuss again.

When creating an OC for a specific fandom, you should try to make sure everything about that OC is relevant to that universe. Travis is a perfect example of what I like to call a “Frankenstein OC”, which is pretty much an OC which borrows certain elements of their character from other fandoms in a very blatant and obvious way. All OC creators get their inspiration from somewhere, but when the sources are obvious - it can detract from the character.

Travis’ concept of Mixtengems needs serious improving upon. The chemistry and the science behind it lack knowledge and the concept seems a little less than well thought out. I do not like this idea of a new species, because it breaks the canon rules of Houseki No Kuni so much. I would suggest completely abandoning this idea, and making the character just a regular gem, like the canon characters and like most HNK OCs.

Travis’ name can just be his gem type. It would certainly help him fit a little better into the universe if the creator just sacrificed the name.

Remove the YouTuber references! This is a Houseki No Kuni (version) of your OC, so the characters in his biography should not be from the YouTube Fandom!!

It doesn’t help that the creator of this OC seems to use Travis in multiple universes. I’m scared to see just how many irrelevant references there are in the other versions of Travis’ bio - but believe me, with Travis in the Houseki No Kuni universe, he definitely does not fit.

Overall, I think this OC deserves a final rating of 2/10. Their creativity and attempts to create an original story line and concept of a new species in the series are admirable, and their artwork is lovely and illustrate their OC quite well.

Apart from that, however, the character is so estranged from the canon rules of Houseki No Kuni and includes a variety of elements and characters pulled from other fandoms.

Ciao!

#OC Review #Houseki No Kuni OC #Land of the Lustrous OC #hnk oc #lotl oc

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chantalthuy-yall · 6 years ago

Video

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[A DAY TO REMEMBER // PERSONAL POST 1/2]

Dear Tumblr,

I want to write an open letter to convey some of my feelings here because I feel more confident and comfortable in my own space and this blog is my space dedicated to Chantal. Thank you to whoever will read this, I am truly grateful to anyone and anything right now.

As my hands are shaking and stuttering words I don’t recognize on my keyboard, I want to hold on the hope that I will make sense at any point in this (long) rambling of mind that I am on the verge to provide us; as I am trying to process all the feelings, all the emotions I’ve been received since the release of Black Lightning 2x05, I beg your pardon if I ultimately failed this sole mission.

But first of all... AM I ALLOWED TO CRY WITH Y’ALL???!!!!!!! I CAN’T WITH CHANTAL OR ME OR ANYBODY RIGHT NOW. I AM GOING SO INSANE. SEND HELP. PLEAAAAAAASE.

Okay, fuuuu~! Now, let’s go back to the beginning, shall we?

First, I want to start with little Eloo. (me) being about 7 years old, an already heavy reader of mangas -especially shonen-, watching old animes like Goldorak, being in love with both Actarus and his girlfriend (lol), and more recent ones at the time, like Saint-Seiya. I remember taking my Wednesdays’ lunch at home glued on the TV, in front of Initial-D. I was totally the kind of kid to go to see the bookstore owner of my neighborhood after school, almost every day, to discuss and discover more about the world through channels of communication I appreciated the most. My sole interest apart from Asian culture was the historic Antiquities period, especially Egypt and later growing to Greece and then Roma and its Empire. I was poorly interested by the history of my own country at first, and even less about anything or anyone that more or less looked like me (or at least, what I thought was similar to me).

Around 9 years old, my father came back with four very old computers, broken, that his company had just throw away. It was the first time I was touching a computer. I will always cherish the memory of this entire weekend my father and I spent to try to fix the many problems these old pieces of junks had. My father had just broken down every piece inside the tower and named every single one of the components. I didn’t know why, maybe out of admiration for him, I just thought that one of this computer and I were going to be best friends. So, after hours and hours of assisting my father in his every move, we managed to save two out of the four computers he had taken back home. He installed a software, Microsoft 1995, and said to me: “you know, the truth is, my company is throwing these computers away because they say that they are slow and not appropriate for our work anymore, but the only problem I see for these computers is actually the change of software. We installed Windows XP on all our computers but the components inside are not powerful enough to sustain XP decently. I am installing 1995 on yours because it’s what will make your computer goes from a Citroen to a Porsche.” And my father was right. The interface was old but it got me through days and night of web searching for contents. The first thing I did was opening word and started to write stories. I couldn’t stop, for hours and hours, I was writing about the characters I liked and why I liked them and if I wanted to be them and if I had imaginary friends what would they look like, etc. It all started from this; the avid curiosity, you know? This impression you know nothing but it is exciting because you learn plenty. Within the first week, I had built my first music database, organized by country name, and singers inside the country files. By the second week I was starting to editing images with a new software I found on the web “Photofiltre”. The results were so ugly, but I was so happy about it. By the first month, I had collected more than 300 titles of world’s films I wanted to see in my life. I was reading scans of my favorite mangas online and I had made a schedule for the anime I wanted to watch each week. I was really happy. But as I was “out”, celebrating the world’s content by clicking on everything I found appealing, a gap started to grow between me, my knowledge, my parents’ knowledge, and our TV. I couldn’t stop talking about India, about Asia, about the Pacific Islands, about how I found Aborigines that were not Native Americans, etc., at our dinners’ conversations. But my parents couldn’t really follow me anymore. And I felt that. And it started to hurt. Soon after, they just decided to put me in front of the TV again because “[I was] too much on the computer, [I was] shutting [myself] down to others.” The truth being that I am a very nice and extrovert kid but at that time I was a bit shy. So I perfectly knew that it was an excuse to “reconnect” with “my” world. And here I was cradled again by a thousand faces analogous to mine, with their problems being where to go on vacation, losing one or two million out of their 23 billion’ fortune. My faith in TV providing me with some content I would enjoy had just totally disappeared at this point.

Instead, I learned to love by watching Bỗng Dưng MuốnnKhóc when I was 13 for the first time, and it stayed with me for 10 years (this year). It transformed me and transcended me in so many ways I cannot describe it. It made me caring and humble as not any teaching could have achieved this. Such a precious one! Instead, I learned about pain with One Liter of Tears. Pain for what we cannot fix yet, pain for this fatalistic optimism in the depth of darkness. I literally cried more than a liter of tears with this one. And I was so touched and traumatized by it that, for months, I kept writing letters to the main character Aya, in a notebook entirely dedicated to her.

Fast-forwarding to my 16, after all these years of me being educated by my researches on the web, shaped by the many things I’d watched and me being a part of the world and connected with many people in my own way, I realized for the first time what I was; or who I was. I had never ever asked myself that question before. I was just seeing myself as an empty content ready to be filled up each day with new knowledge. I was not black, or white, or cinnamon, or green. I was red; because red was my favorite color and red was what I was bleeding when I hurt myself. But the reality stroke me harder. I don’t want to make it sounds weird but I actually never realized I was white until an incident happened. I don’t wish to talk about it though, but all I want to say is that I discovered my whiteness very late and it made me question a lot of things after that. I tried to talk to my relatives about it, to my brother, but they didn’t understand my point. Discovering me not being what I thought of me was weird; my feeling was: I had been looking at a distorting mirror the whole time and for the first time, I was forced to look at me in the most basic mirror out there. I was nowhere near my favorite heroes. The kid that was identifying as Mulan, Nala, Taranee, Alex, etc. was just a construction of my mind. And suddenly, it got worse. Not for me, of course, because I was living a peaceful life and stuff, but for all of what my friends have been going through around me that I never picked up. Injustices, remarks from other white folks of mine, fucking annoying jokes on their origins or their parents, police control systematically happening for some of my friends, etc. All of these, a new world was opening right in front of my eyes. And in all honesty, I’ve never felt so dumb in my entire life, for not having been able to notice what I am saying here, earlier on. I was just naive, I guess.

This first punch in the face was followed by a second one, concerning then, my sexuality. The 1st time I thought about my own sexuality was also in high school (still in my 16, it was a rough year for my mental). I don't know why I was always subject to joke about my ambiguous sexuality there. People would argue "she's straight" / "no lesbian". But at that time, I wasn't really interested in trying things or having experiences. I was in love with my life, my family and my friends and that were enough. But others pushed me to decide; pressuring to know if I was someone in the closet. At that time, I wasn't aware of bisexuality because everybody kept splitting the concepts: everything was either black or white. But the more I thought about it myself, the more it felt off. I started to wonder why I am not able to feel more about one way than the other. It gave me a lot of pressure and internal struggles to understand that it was okay to feel this way. Once, I tried to talk about it to a friend, the immediate reaction was "you're a weirdo". I then decided to switch the subject and never talk about it again. Then two years later, I got a boyfriend and we once evoke our thoughts about sexuality. I thought that maybe it was the right moment to talk about this part of me I didn't dare to face because I thought he was open-minded enough to understand me. Again, I got unlucky. When I explained to him that I feel attracted to men he said that it was "normal". And then, when I followed up by saying to him that I've never fallen in love with a woman but I could strongly feel I was attracted to women as well, he laughed and said "that's so hot! I also love watching that on screen". It immediately gave me a strange feeling, as if I had accumulated dirt and mud on my skin. I said nothing and went back home. This time, I didn't want to just forget about this. It actually gave me the need to "identify" more specifically my "not normal" attraction because I was tired of searching for something I couldn’t find in the dark. So I searched for it and after reading, passing online tests like all young folks do, I came to the conclusion that I was bisexual. And suddenly it made sense.

So then, of course, I wanted to look up to figures in media to make me more confident in accepting myself and be accepted by others. But the bisexual representation at that time was a continuous spreading of aberrant misconceptions. The key points I retained for my sexuality: unstable, thirsty, cheater, the famous bi-curiosity and the rejection or mistrust from both homosexuality and heterosexuality. Great!!! We stan a construction of oneself based on guilt and aberration, right? Products of society™! (LOL *sarcasm when you’re here, you stay here*)

Again, I am fast-forwarding but in short, after a long period of time dealing with these negative thoughts of myself, desperately trying to build up confidence in who I was and who I wasn’t, it finally stroke me: someone. Yes, I was someone. It was never a question of genders as people always tried to imply. It was never a question of thirst. It was about not labeling. it was simply about love; from a person to another. And while I found my satisfying answer concerning my sexuality, everything from that point started to be slightly better. I started to accept myself and I affirmed my love for others as unconditional.♡ I just love people so much; I always did. And I refrained from loving entirely without prejudice for such a long time... Nowadays it seems like a waste. But the most important part, in all of these events, is that I forgot to love myself. And as much as I want to make amends now, it is really hard. I am still learning to love myself every day a little more. I've made my way to a healthy acceptance of myself now, but sometimes my head cannot help but go backward and my mood crumbles again.

Which brings me to my 20. That’s about the time I reconnected insanely with the US TV series. I discovered the baby series Sense8 and I got addicted to the love, the vision, the sci-fi they were feeding us with. I’ve never mentioned it but my favorite movie is Matrix, so I was ecstatic to dive in the Warchowsky work again. I learned to take some pride in who I was thanks to Sense8, I will never forget my self-esteem boiling at some point, under my veins. And last year, when they released the finale, I cried all my eyeballs out, stunned by the beauty of their work. And suddenly, I got empowered by the love, the sharing with other fans, the thought of “not being alone” in this.

And I sincerely thought “wow, representations have changed!”, “minds are changing”. And it was true because the newest representations on media blossoming here and there in diverse countries are strengthening this healthy path of constructing oneself. Bisexual representation has indeed evolved, and as the first concerned, I am happy and thankful to witness that. From shame to pride, from tears to smile, I am now confident that we are entering an era where people are given more and more room to speak up about these injustices. Or better, when they are turned down, they have the possibility to rebel, on numbers and with solidarity. We now have strong female leads to carry our ideas and act responsibly on repairing the stereotypical behavior of many before them. My mind goes to many current ships thundergrace, avalance, wayhaught, kadena, deanoru, and many more. They are the one to help build a safe zone and a new space for younger generations to grow beautifully. But not only them, after making my way out of this, I also bare a responsibility toward others to prevent their self-esteem to go down like it did for me.

SO in all of this, you must have gotten by now that I love being educated by mediatic content whether it is on the web or on Netflix or whatever. And I love sci-fi and superheroes. So what’s better than Black Lightning? I seriously don’t know because I love Black Lightning so much, I am so damn addicted to this show that sometimes I forget to live. BUT the best part (for me) to black lightning, is the addition of Chantal Thuy to the cast. Chantal is playing a bisexual woman of color, more specifically stated as Asian American. And her character, Grace Choi, stated as soon as her second episode on the show that she was bi, to one of the main characters (her now girlfriend Anissa, making the thundergrace ship). It felt so right, not justified, not aggressive, just perfect, I was actually tearing when I heard her words. I thought “this is the representation I always wanted to see. I see me, I see us.” and right after “I. NEED. MORE.” (yes, I am stating the obvious again haha). The more we dive into Grace character, the less we are disappointed and the more we become high and amazed by her: she is soft but strong-headed, she has a smile that could illuminate the whole world if it was ever shutting down, she loves Anissa and didn’t shy away to say it or feeling something when the line was blurred by Anissa’s actions. And now that the excellent 2x05 has passed, Grace showed us she had powers and she was hiding them. During 2x05 also, something very important happened again, and in all honesty, I’ve never watched such a raw and honest conversation that I would label as “pillow talk” between two same-sex characters in a relationship (and especially women). It moved me again because as a bisexual, we are often mistaken as the people that swipe left and right going here and there for sex. So usually if someone comes in for comfort or his/her own good, they will think that we have to take them all in. But as Grace stated very clearly: “[we] are not [...] handbag[s].” And I love it that she says that because this is exactly what I wanted to hear. She respects herself enough to stand up against this kind of behavior that harms us more than often. In a way, it’s toxic. In her defense, she loves Anissa, the problem is not in their love. The problem is in the way Anissa copes with her feelings and emotions. They are not on the same level of understanding yet. Both of them have to grow from the experience. And, I AM SO HERE FOR IT. I love that Chantal is slowly becoming a more present and an important character for the show. Again, I AM SO HERE FOR IT. It is really a true benediction to this world and I am very lucky to be able to witness that.

That’s with all of that in mind that I decided to send a package to Chantal. To thank her for her amazing work on Black Lightning and on other characters too. Because while checking to her IMDb page, I realized that it was not the first time I had been watching her on TV. Indeed, the 1st time I saw Chantal on TV was with my grandma during summer vacations, watching Madam Secretary on her couch. But I didn't remember back then because I wasn't really into the show. It’s when I finally checked out again the episode 1x14 of Madam Secretary that I realized it was the same person. I remember that my grandma pushed me to stay to watch the show with her. My grandma loves these kinds of shows because she has never been able to travel physically outside our country. Yet, she traveled through her programs, discovering many different backgrounds and situations of characters she never expected. Madam Secretary and other shows such as the police or the attorney kinds often put minorities in a certain light, I wouldn't say the best, but the major audience responds to it with compassion. My grandma did so, it broadened her horizons a little bit. She was receptive to these stories and receptive to Nhung Chuang story too. I want to write it, so I’ll never forget.

In between yesterday and today, the mail safely arrived in Chantal’s hands. That’s what the content of this video is all about. Being honest again, it is the very first time I am sending a letter to someone I really admire like this. It never happened to me before. Stating the fact, I think it says it all. I have no word left because every single one she aligned one after another to talk to me has left me breathless and speechless. Her smile has supplanted the sun at this point, and I am in nowhere near a sane and healthy recovery. I’ve been hit by sunstroke.

In the second video, she thanks me for my letter and everything inside the package. But I still can’t understand. Chantal, why thanking me? I am the one that should be thanking you! Chantal, you are the most precious person we have in this universe. You are smart, kindhearted, beautifully generous, talented, pretty and honest. You have nothing to thank me for!! haha Anyway, all I want to say again and again and again is: I LOVE YOU. (Is that the hundredth time I am writing it to you yet?????) ♥♥

Thank you if you had the patience to read all these words until the end... I might edit the content later because it’s 02:22 AM where I live. xx, Eloo. Writing to me, and to her. (1/2)

#chantal thuy #personal #text #open letter #she received my mail

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ddaddsprompts · 7 years ago

Note

What if Dadsona turns out to be a werewolf? How would the dads react?

Last night’s events still echo in your mind. Ithad been just you and Amanda for so long, just the two of you against theworld, you’d forgotten that this could be something you ought to sharewith your partner. Preferably before they find you writhing in your backyard,gasps turning into growls as your fingers grew into claws and fur breakingthrough your skin. You still remember the look of utter surprise and shock ontheir face, the last thing you had clearly seen before the hunt took over. Run, the forest is calling, run, moon, dirt,run, scent, hunt—

Exhausted and practically dead on your feet, youwalk back home. Immediately after moving to Maple Bay, Amanda and you hidbackpacks with a change of clothes in strategic places throughout the forest sowhen full moon came, you wouldn’t have to run through the streets completelynaked. You throw down the (now) empty backpack after opening the front door andinhale. There’s someone else here. You haven’t been together for long as thispoint, but the wolf in you would recognise that scent everywhere. It sang oflove, of mate. The logical part ofyour brain, though, wonders just for how much longer that would be. Noprolonging the inevitable, you tell yourself and you take a deep breath before goinginto the living room.

🥃 You’renot sure what your eyes are drawn to first: Robert’s bloodshot eyes that spokeof a night spent without sleep, the silverknife in his hands or the dog treats on the table. Further, your mindcannot decide what to be most offended by. “I’m not a dog.” Robert doesn’tflinch, thank god, nor raise the knife, he just watches you warily as you walkpast him into the kitchen. When you return a moment later, he’s sitting on thecouch, so you sink into the chair opposite from him. Neither of you saysanything for a few minutes. You sip on your coffee and watch him watching you.In your time as a werewolf, you had seen plenty a self-proclaimed hunter; theyall had the same kind of look in their eyes. Robert doesn’t. “I’d give you the ‘Nothinghas changed, I’m still me’ speech, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it.”Robert’s only reaction is a grunt. “Wolf’s out of the bag now. What’re yougoing to do about it?” You meet his eyes with a lot more outward composure thanyou feel on the inside. He doesn’t look at you like you are prey, but understandably,you’re nervous. A minute, maybe two, maybe five, passes with you two just lookingat each other. Eventually, Robert lowers his knife. “I’m too attached to you,kid,” he huffs. You’re fluent enough in Robert to read between the lines andnod. Then, like a switch has been flipped, his demeanour changes. “Are theremore like you? Are you allergic to silver? What about wolfsbane—“

🍸 Joseph flinches the moment he notices yourpresence and takes a step back. Seeing the fear in his eyes feels like someoneis squeezing your heart while it’s still in your chest. “Joe—““Why didn’t you tell me?” He’s visibly struggling to appear calm, but you cansmell that he is scared and damn, does it hurt. “Were you ever going to tellme?” You take a deep breath and lean against the couch in the least intimidatingposture possible. “Eventually, yes. Sooner or later you would have started tonotice me disappearing every full moon and there are only so many excuses I canmake up.”“Does Amanda know?” You shoot him an incredulous look. “Of course. She’s knownsince she was little. As did Alex. I told them before we got married.” Josephnods and releases a long, tense breath. He runs a hand through his hair,messing up the styling. You long to soothe him, but you stay where you are, asmuch as it hurts you to see him like this. “After last night … I went to churchand prayed. I thought, long and hard, about whether the knowledge of your truenature changes how I feel about you. I’m scared of… this, Y/N. But then I triedto imagine a life without you at my side and the prospect scared me even more.”For the first time since you arrived, Joseph looks directly at you. “It willtake me some time, but I’ll try to come to terms with it.” You sink down on thecouch, the relief making your knees buckle. After a moment, Joseph sits downnext to you and pulls you against his side.

☕ “Mat?” The dark-skinned man looks up and curses so vigorously youfeel the urge to cover your houseplants’ non-existent ears. He barely managesto catch his cup of coffee before it spills and clutches it to his chest, likea comfort item. “Y-Y/N! Oh god, I was s-so scared, after what happened. Are youokay?” His concern for you takes you off guard. You didn’t exactly expect him toscream, but you hadn’t thought he would fear for you. “At first I thought I was high and had hallucinations, eventhough I didn’t have any drugs, and you were still gone hours later after anykind of effect would have worn off, so I knew it was real, you really turnedinto a werewolf r-right in front of my eyes and—““Mat,” you gently interrupt him. “How much coffee did you have already?” Matlooks down at the cup in his hands and then back at you. You sigh and slowly,exaggerating your movements, walk over to him. Up close, you notice he’strembling. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mat. Nothing has changed. I already wasa werewolf before yesterday evening and I didn’t do anything to you orCarmensita then. The only difference is that now you know.” He lets you putyour hands on his shoulders and looks at your face. His fear stings in yournose. “If you want me out of your daughter’s life, say the word. But I couldnever hurt her, or you, or anyone else. I’ve never hurt another human being.”Mat absently wets his lips and stares at you. You don’t know what he’s lookingfor, but he must have found it, since he shakes his head. “I still love you.”

🌹 You stare down at the herbs right in front ofyour feet before lifting your head to look at Damien with an unamusedexpression. “Where did you even get wolfsbane?” He doesn’t reply right away; hegoes through whatever he has written on the piece of paper in his hands beforethrowing it aside. “I prepared a long speech. How I don’t appreciate you keepingsomething like that secret from me, that I had a right to know of your secondnature not only because we’re a couple now, but also because of the potentialdanger you might put myself and Lucien in, but seeing you right now…” With hisfoot, he pushes aside the wolfsbane; you don’t have the heart to tell him itwouldn’t have stopped you from entering the room anyway. Damien cups your facewith his hands and seeks eye contact. The intensity of his gaze makes yourbreath hitch. “Seeing you right now, no different from when I last saw youbefore you transformed, renders all those words unimportant. My feelings haven’tchanged. If anything, knowing your secret has brought me close to you thanbefore. Tell me, Y/N, are you a threat to me or my son?” You immediately shakeyour head. “Is there a chance you might hurt us or subject us to any danger?” Again,you shake your head; hunters were only after the creature, not their lovedones. Damien nods and breaks into a smile. “Let’s draw you a bath, my dear. You’redirty and covered in leaves and twigs. There are so many things I want to askyou—“

🎣 In any other situation, seeing Brian so uncharacteristically meek andnervous would have been cute, but right now, it just makes you feel bad. Youhold up your hands, palms facing him, and stay still, not wanting to scare him.If you thought he doesn’t notice, his snort makes clear he has. “I’m not afraidof you,” he says. You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, you are. Your voice is quivering.”“Is not.” You roll your eyes and make a dismissive gesture. “Fine. But I cansmell your fear.” Brian lifts his arm to smell his armpit, pulls a face, thenshakes his head. “No fear there. Only the manly smell of a man who definitelyisn’t afraid.” Despite the topic you’re kind of talking about while avoidingdirectly addressing it, you can’t help but snort. Some of the tension seeps outof your body at the familiar banter between you and the same seems to be truefor Brian, as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. You mirror thegesture. “Brian, it’s perfectly normal to be afraid in the face of somethingunknown. You can admit it.”“I’m not afraid. And I totally knew.” You raise both your eyebrows so high theynearly disappear in your hairline. “And pray tell, how did you know?”“Your… um… Amanda’s obsession with dogs!”“Is perfectly normal even for people whose fathers aren’t what I am.”“Your good nose?” You don’t reply; you’re too busy keeping in a chuckle. Briantaps his chin, grinning himself. “At the park you caught the Frisbee with yourmouth. Hey, does that mean I can play fetch with you every full moon?”

👟 It’s as if last night’s events didn’t happen and Craig didn’t see you transforminto a literal werewolf. He looks like he just came home from his morning jogand is fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet but he has a towel in hishands to rub it dry. You lean against the wall and wait for the inevitable freak-out,but it doesn’t come. “Hey, bro,” Craig greets you with that face-splitting grinthat seems to be reserved just for you and he walks over to kiss you. “Can youtake the girls to school today? A business partner called and needs to move hismeeting to an earlier slot. Good news is that the twins are staying with afriend after training so we have the evening to ourselves. I was thinking—““Craig,” you interrupt. He tilts his head at you in confusion and you wonderwhether you’ve unknowingly entered the twilight zone. “Are you… are we… I mean—“You take a few breaths while the workers in your head try to bring yourthoughts into a coherent order. “Are you not going to ask me what happened lastnight?” Craig looks confused for a few moments before understanding dawns onhis face. “Oh! I totally forgot. Bro, I knew.”“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU KNEW??” He gently shushes you and points at a sleepingRiver. You repeat your question, whispering but just as shocked. Craig shrugs. “Y/N,we were roommates. You’re not as sneaky as you think you are. One full moon,completely wasted, you announced you’re going to pee on the statue of thecollege founder and changed right before my eyes.” You work your head, tryingto remember that event, but you were probably too drunk. Craig kisses yourtemple and grins.

📖 Hugo doesn’t look afraid, he looks… pisseddoesn’t even cover it. The moment he notices you entering the room, he crossesthe distance and stares you down. Your inner wolf makes you want to bare yourthroat in a gesture of submission; you stomp down the instinct, but you can’tstop yourself from ducking your head. “I kind of expected Ernest to draw youinto his childish pranks, but something like what you did yesterday is notalright! You didn’t have to be gone all night, do you have any idea how worriedI was about you? I was this close to calling the police! What do you have tosay in your defence?” When you don’t reply, too surprised by Hugo’s words, hehuffs out a breath and turns around, starting to prowl in the living room likea tiger trapped in a cage. “Hugo, that wasn’t a prank.”“Y/N, I don’t appreciate you keeping up this charade.” You move to stand in frontof him and put your hands on his shoulders to stop him from pacing. “Hugo, I’mdead serious. That wasn’t a prank. I might be good with makeup, but atransformation like that goes beyond anything a professional could do without acomputer.” The logic of your argument makes him pause and uncertainty colourshis expression. He regards you with the same look that brings students to theirknees, but you don’t give in. “I swear to you, that wasn’t a joke.” Short oftransforming again, which would take more energy than you currently have, youdon’t know how else to convince him. You’re just about to offer to call Amandawhen Hugo suddenly becomes very, very still under your hands. You look at him quizzically.“Holy shit,” he breathes out. Then he faints.

#dream daddy #dream daddy: a dad dating simulator #dream daddy a dad dating simulator #ddadds #dream daddy imagine #Anonymous

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firstade-universe · 7 years ago

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Pure

Part 2 of Simplicity at it’s Finest

Six Months Later

Lena stirs in the wee hours of the morning, faintly aware that Kara has finally slipped into bed. She instinctually turns over and burrows into her girlfriend, tucking her head under Supergirl’s chin. Kara sighs contentedly and holds Lena close, pressing her lips against the crown of Lena’s head then nuzzling down until her nose is buried in black hair. She wants to sleep, she is exhausted, but she can’t. She watches the sun rise while the CEO clings to her in her peaceful slumber. She chances a glance at the bedside clock behind a stirring Lena. 7:45am, she sighs until a soft kiss is pressed to her neck and she smiles lightly. Then comes another and another, until Lena is nipping at her jaw, then pressing their lips together.

“Morning love.”

Kara looks down at her with a smile and runs her fingers through the dark tresses before bringing their lips together again. “Morning.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really. Just a rough night. I don’t want to bum you out first thing in the morning, so we can talk about it later.”

Lena’s small frown slowly morphs into a smirk then she sits up on her knees and toys with the bottom hem of her shirt, biting her lip. “Want me to take your mind off it, Supergirl ?”

Kara gulps hard and nods twice. This is what her very sexy girlfriend reduces her to. A puddle of gay who cannot form words other than ‘yes,’ ‘please,’ and the ever popular ‘Lena.’ The CEO wastes no time straddling the reporter and slowly taking her own shirt over her head, making sure to watch her girlfriend's reaction to the scene in front of her.

Two hours later, a slightly rejuvenated Kara is placing soft lips to the spine in between the shoulder blades of the woman in front of her. She hears Lena’s breathing change and smiles into her skin. Lena doesn’t move to roll over or change position at all really. “Ready to talk about it now?”

Kara moves forward, pressing her front to the CEO’s back. She drops her arm over Lena’s waist and moves her lips to bare shoulder. “The arsonist that has been terrorizing the east side struck again last night, twice. I couldn’t be in two places at once and... a woman died.”

“Love, you can’t save everyone.” Lena threads their fingers together over her bare stomach.

Kara sighs and kisses her shoulder again. “I know. It still bothers me.”

“I know it does and I love how much you care for the people of this city.” Lena rolls over then and presses her lips to Kara’s. “Come on, let’s shower then we’re ordering chinese and watching movies all day. Turn every other electronic off.”

Halfway through the first film, The Goonies (Lena’s guilty pleasure movie), Kara is asleep with her head in the brunette’s lap. The CEO runs her fingers continually through blonde hair, only stopping to pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her girlfriend. She hears the elevator ding and frowns down at Kara’s sleeping face, gently lifting the Super’s head and placing it back down on a pillow as the inevitable knock on the door reverberates through the apartment. Lena moves swiftly and quietly opens the door to find an upset looking Alex. She steps out and closes the door, hoping to salvage the nap for Kara. “Hey.”

“Hey Lena. Is my sister here, I already tried her place and her phone?”

She looks at the door then back at Alex before responding. “She’s asleep on the couch. Do you need her or Supergirl?”

Alex looks to the door then to Lena and nods. “I just wanted to make sure she was okay. I know how hard it is for her when she can’t save everyone. Clearly she is in the most capable hands already.” Alex half smirks, concern for her sister still evident along with the gratitude she holds toward Lena.

“She’ll be alright. I’ll have her call you after nap?” Lena offers.

“That’d be great. We could all go to dinner tomorrow. You two, Maggie and I?”

“I’ll check with her and her schedule, but I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to.”

Kara is sitting up, cross-legged, on the couch when Lena re-enters the apartment.

“I’m glad you and Alex get along now.”

Lena hums and takes up her previous position on the couch. “Me too. If I hadn’t won her over in the six months we’ve been dating plus the two years we've been friends then I don’t know if I ever could.”

Kara chuckles lightly then looks at her girlfriends positioning. She gets up and lifts Lena’s legs so they are on the couch, then kneels at end by her ankles and gently pushes them apart to make room for herself. The CEO cocks her head to the side, but doesn’t question what Kara is doing out loud. Then Kara settles in, chin on Lena’s sternum and arms wrapped around her waist and Lena finally gets it. Kara is often the one who holds her, who uses the closeness to show Lena she is still there because Lena Luthor has abandonment issues. Something obviously stemming from her childhood and upbringing. So once in awhile, when Kara needs to be held, but she is too proud to ask for it, she gently forces the issue.

“I love you.” Lena whispers as her Super nuzzles into the inside of her left breast.

“Love you too.” Kara reaches for the remote and clicks play, resuming the movie from where they left off.

The next week

Kara’s breath hitches in her throat when she catches a glimpse of Lena in her gown for the first time tonight. She’s in an emerald green scoop neck A-line dress and it takes several seconds before Kara can hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding through her ears.

“The suit looks amazing, Love.” Lena compliments as she puts on her earring. “What?”

“You… you look... you are…” Kara sputters.

Lena approaches quickly and cups her floundering girlfriend's jaw with one hand while she slowly runs her finger up the suspenders under Kara’s suit jacket. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You look stunning. You're so beautiful, babe.” Kara breathes deep then leans forward to capture the perfect lips of her lover. “I don't tell you that enough, do I?”

“You literally tell me all the time.” Lena laughs heartily. “You're a wonderful girlfriend and you never give yourself enough credit. I do love this suit on you.”

“It is easier to hide the super suit with this than the dress, you were right.”

“I was right about how hot you would look too.” Kara blushes at the compliment and Lena kisses her cheek. “Come on, let's get downstairs. We need to make the children some money.”

The elevator to the lobby of the expensive hotel that this fundraiser is being held in reaches it’s destination and the couple walks out with their arms linked.

“Miss Luthor. Thank you for joining us.” An over eager assistant to someone with actual influence and control of the evening’s events greets them. “I’ve been told you would like to say a few words, if you follow me, we can get that over with right now.”

“Yes, thank you.” Lena answers and they follow the young man over to the side of the stage and up to the podium. In the last six months, Kara has become intimately aware of how much power and influence Lena wields with her words. She is also acutely aware that the press absolutely loves how much reverence she looks at her girlfriend with while she’s giving a speech. One online tabloid called her “Kara ‘heart-eyed puppy’ Danvers.” To which Kara responded was an awful nickname and far too many syllables. The content doesn’t really bother her because it is true. She loves Lena Luthor and she gives zero shits about the fact that she gives her heart-eyes.

Lena leans into the microphone and clears her throat lightly to check the volume. “Hello everyone. Thank you all for joining those of us from LCorp tonight in honor of the National City Children’s Home. As some of you know, this charity holds a special place near and dear to my heart. It provides a safe and loving environment for children who have had the misfortune of losing their families. Having a family is something an orphan dreams of, trust me. The people who work at the NCCH are a family all of their own and it shines through to the very special children in their care. So let’s all raise a glass and then open our checkbooks to advance along the future of this great city.” The crowd applauds respectfully and everyone tips their glasses. She and Kara make their way down to the sponsor table and take their seats. Cameras, as they usually are at these events, are endlessly snapping. They catch the couple in a variety of poses, Kara with her head tossed back in laughter. Snap. Lena smiling from ear to ear as she brings champagne to her lips. Snap. Kara with her nose tucked into the hair just above Lena’s ear while she whispers something obviously hilarious. Snap. It took a few events for Kara to get used to this, but now it’s normal. As awful as that sounds.

The night goes off without a hitch, something that Lena is grateful for. As they ride home in the town car, fingers tangled together, Kara’s face morphs into a look of confusion and uncertainty.

“What is it, Love?”

The blonde shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the feeling. “I, uh. I don’t know. Something just doesn’t seem… right? I guess.”

Lena raises an eyebrow then leans forward to peck Kara’s cheek. “I’m sure everything is fine.” They arrive back at Kara’s a few moments later and unhurriedly make their way up to the apartment. When they round the corner in the hallway, they spot a figure sitting in front of her door. Supergirl mode is activated and Kara steps in front of Lena, shielding her from any possible harm. As they get closer, she recognizes the figure. She doesn’t believe her eyes, but she definitely recognizes the person.

“Mon-El?”

The man looks up at her and quickly scrambles to his feet. “Kara!”

“What… How… Why…?”

“Oh, Kara. I missed you so much.” He moves to hug her and she puts her hand out to stop him.

“I’ll give you two a moment.” Lena offers as she steps toward the door with her copy of the apartment key in hand. “Popcorn?”

“Yeah. I’ll be right in. Thank you.” Kara watches her slip inside in all of her graceful elegance. Her gaze lingers for a moment and she turns back to Mon-El.

“You love her.” He says simply. No hate or bitterness. No disdain or betrayal. It’s just a revelation, one he probably thought he would have to make after being gone for more than two years with the assumption he could never come back. “You’re in love with her.”

“I do and I am. Mon-El, look, I really want to hear about the last two years for you, but I am going to need to do that tomorrow at the DEO. I have plans with my girlfriend tonight.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“I am glad you are back.”

“Me too. See you tomorrow, Kara Zor-El.” Mike walks away and Kara slips inside her apartment, pulling at the tie on her suit as she closes the door. Lena is standing in the kitchen with her hand on the microwave like the trained microwave bomb technician that she is.

Kara frowns at the shirt and sweats Lena is wearing. “You already changed.”

“I did. Was I not supposed to?”

“I wanted to help you out of your dress.” The Super waggles her eyebrows and the CEO laughs.

“I’m sure the opportunity will arise again in the near future. Or, better yet, you could be content with helping me out of these clothes.”

The next day at the DEO is decidedly awkward for everyone. James avoids the whole thing by calling a Catco departmental meeting and conference call with Cat Grant. Winn refuses to leave his computer siting a project from Alex. Alex takes a call from Maggie who “needs her help on a case.” She asks J’onn to come along too. So that leaves Kara and Mon-El with no buffers. They are sitting in the training room for almost an hour before he speaks.

“So how long have you two…?” He trails off.

“Six months.”

He hums. Possibly he thinks that isn’t a long time. Maybe he thinks that just long enough to be completely serious. “How did you, ya know, come to the conclusion you two should date?”

“She almost died.” Kara shakes her head. “I watched her almost die. I realized while she was in recovery, that I had loved you. I had, part of me always will. But I was ‘in love’ with her. There is a difference. A real, almost tangible difference.”

“Really?” Mike frowns as he looks at his feet. “What’s it like?”

“It’s… it’s amazing.” Kara stands and shrugs, letting her arms fall to her sides. “She’s my best friend and I tell her everything. I mean everything. There is no fear that she is going to judge me or I’m going to say something embarrassing. I genuinely want to spend every moment I can with her. I have even taken a step back with the whole Supergirl role. I help with the major stuff, the alien stuff, but I leave the small crime to the police. Maggie helped me see that was okay, that it’s their jobs.” She turns to face the door, sighing once again.

“That’s good. You deserve the break.”

“But it’s not even about me.” She whips around to face him again. “I made that choice so Lena and I could spend more time together and there hasn’t been a single moment that I regret it.”

“Sounds a little one sided, what has she sacrificed for you?”

The hero narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “She has pulled out of several charity boards and rarely spends time in R&D which is the one aspect of her jobs that she actually truly enjoys.”

“You two sound like a match made in heaven.” He grits, obviously not as okay with the events that took place in his absence as Kara had hoped he would be.

“Bitterness doesn’t suit you.” She scoffs. “What did you expect? That you would come back and I would be crying in a tub of haagen daaz, staring at a photo of you, rambling about how I could never move on from my boyfriend of a couple of months? How my world was just over and I was doomed to be loveless for eternity?”

“Well… No…” He sputters. “But I thought maybe we could get back together or something. I didn’t expect you to be committed.”

“Well I am, and nothing is going to change that.” She turns on her heels and marches out of the training room. Alex and J’onn happen to be approaching the command center at the same time she is. “I’m headed to work, he’s one hundred percent your problem, and no. I won’t need his help should an emergency arise. Maybe ask James if Guardian needs a sidekick or something.”

“Did you find out how he came back?” Alex asks as her sister brushes past the group.

“I didn’t and you know what? I don’t actually care. Feel free to go… nerd.” She waves her hand back toward where she left Mike, but she never stops her feet from moving toward the door.

“Can you believe that? He actually had the nerve to ask me if I was the only one sacrificing things for our relationship.” She complains through bites of pot sticker as she sits on the desk in the R&D department at LCorp.

Lena hums commensurately and fiddles with her microscope. She leans over and Kara feeds her a bite from her chopsticks. She chews the mouthful and goes back to the microscope for a moment more before looking back to her girlfriend. “Some people don’t know how a good relationship with healthy communication works.”

“True. So what are you working on over there my little genius?”

The CEO smiles and pecks her girlfriend on the lips. “Wireless renewable energy.”

“Um… Please do not explain that because the weird things I am coming up with in my head are so incredibly cool.”

Two Weeks Later

“A wedding for who?”

“One of the department heads, Stephen Root. He’s a really nice guy and he actually came to my office and explained to me why he was inviting me.” Lena shrugged. “It’s not because he felt obligated or something, but because I said something one time that inspired him to volunteer more, which his where he met her. So basically he sees me as the reason they are together.”

“Well isn’t that just the sweetest.” Kara leans back against the couch and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. There is a long, comfortable silence as Lena flips through the channels looking for something to watch as they cuddle. A typical Thursday night for the two of them. “So… Alex and Maggie are thinking about adopting.”

Lena looks over at her with a grin. “I know. Maggie and I had lunch today. I was told to wait until Alex told you to say anything.”

“Really?” Lena nods and smiles. “I am excited for them.”

“Me too.”

“Would you… Maybe… Not now obviously, but in the future, possibly…”

“Want to do that too?” Lena finishes the question for her stuttering and unsure girlfriend.

Kara breathes out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. That.”

“Three or four years ago, my answer would be a hard no. You know how it was for me growing up like I did. I would never wish that on another child.” She leans over and settles into the Super’s strong embrace. “Now though, I’m not so against it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Especially if I imagine raising a kid with you. Growing up a Danvers was pretty good right? So a kid would have at least a 50/50 shot between the two of us.”

Kara kisses the top of Lena’s head and takes a moment to form her thoughts. “You are amazing, Lena Luthor. The things you have gone through in your life are what have helped mold you into such a strong and capable leader. How the Luthor’s raised you, how they treated you, that only shows how incredible you are to have turned out the way you did. Any child in your future, with me or even someone else, is going to be lucky to have you as their mom.” There is a long moment when neither of them speak and it becomes evident as to why when Lena sniffles slightly.

“I really do love you, you know.”

Kara smiles and kisses the top of her head again. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Three Weeks Later

“Jess, can you come in here please?” Lena speaks into the receiver on her desk then looks at her door. She knows Jess does not answer her call verbally, she just gets up and comes in. It takes eight seconds, Kara timed it once or twice. The door swings open and Jess appears, quickly making her way to the CEO’s desk.

“Yes, Miss Luthor.”

“Were you able to clear my schedule for this evening, like I asked?” Lena raises an eyebrow and sits back a bit in her chair.

“I was. Although, the Toyko call is now Friday at five am Monday morning.” The assistant wrinkles her own nose in disgust. “Sorry.”

Lena rolls her eyes but nods along anyway. “Mr. Nakamoto is going to be the death of me.”

“Yes, probably, but the company will prosper evermore.” Jess chuckles. “Okay. Now go. Get your girl. See you tomorrow at Stephen’s wedding?”

“You will. Leave soon, please Jess.” Lena gathers her belongings and makes for the door of the phone in hand, typing away a message.

“Kara, look. It’s your birthday, and we are going to have fun, damn it!” Alex orders around of drinks from the alien bar for the table then turns back quickly. “It’s time you loosen up.”

“I am plenty loose. Thank you very much.” Winn mutters a classic ‘that’s what she said’ under his breath and receives slap to the back of the head from Maggie. James chuckles at that as Kara blushes. “You know what I mean. I have fun.”

“Yes, you have fun. I am not saying you don’t have fun, I’m just saying the past few weeks have been extremely tense at the DEO and we all deserve to have a little fun together.”

“It’s also 2pm and I was unaware day drinking was something all of us adults decided was acceptable.”

“Say what you really mean, little Danvers.” Maggie chides. “You don’t want to have fun without Lena.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then, isn’t it.” Lena abruptly makes her presence known, dropping her purse in the seat next to Kara and leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Happy birthday, Love.”

“Lena! What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

Lena smirks then kisses her lips this time. “Eh. You might be worth cancelling some meetings over.”

The group carries on drinking alien liquor through the night (tame, human things for the Earthlings.) By the time Lena is steering Kara to the penthouse loft she owns, its nearly three in the morning and they are both pretty intoxicated. The CEO fairing better of the two.

“Babe.” Kara lackadaisically calls from the side of the elevator that she’s leaning on. “I want to see you naked. Can I see you naked?”

“Kara, Love, of course you can. We just need to get inside the apartment first.”

“Ugh. Fine.” She pouts.

“What was that?”

Kara waves her hands around gesturing to everything and nothing at the same time. “I just think it’s absurd that I have to wait until I am indoors to see my girlfriend naked. Everyone WANTS to see you naked Lena. You’re fucking hot. No one out there would be like ‘oh no! Supergirl! Save us. Lena Luthor is streaking!’ It wouldn’t happen. In fact, you’d probably get a medal for creating world peace or something.” Lena is laughing, out right laughing at Kara’s speech, and during it has managed to steer her inside the penthouse.

“I’m glad you think so highly of my body.”

“AND you’re big beautiful sexy brain too. Complete package, you are.”

“Okay, no more Roltikkon rum for you.”

The Next Day

Stephen and Jemma’s wedding is a mid budget affair. They spared no expense on things like food and alcohol, but it is a small affair. There are approximately one hundred guests and everyone is very laid back. The men are in button downs and slacks and the women are in light summer dresses. Both Lena and Kara were very glad the CEO texted the groom and asked for a clarification on attire.

“Champagne or cider ma’am?” A waiter with a bright, easy smile offers a bottle leaned against his forearm.

“Two champagnes please.” Kara points to both hers and Lena’s glasses on the table. Her girlfriend was stopped a moment before by another LCorp employee, presumably to talk about work.

“Of course.” The waiter nods, fills the glasses, then moves on. The DJ announces food to be served and everyone takes their places at the assigned tables. Lena joins Kara and they eat and chat with their tablemates, Stephen’s grandparents it turns out. They are fun and endearing and offer great relationship advice. Lena is in love and Kara loves watching her fall. A short time later, toasts are being made. They are mediocre at best and Kara is disappointed, they are her favorite part. Next is the first dance and the couple dances to an instrumental of “When a Man Loves a Woman.” The couple shares a grimace. But the Mother/Son and Father/Daughter dances are cute and sweet and it almost completely compensates. The couples are all invited to the floor next and 'Love Me Tender' plays softly for them to sway to.

Lena lazily drapes her arms over Kara’s shoulders and grasps her own wrist. “Ah, a saving grace. I like swaying with you.”

The blonde hums and pulls her a bit closer. “What would you choose for a first dance song? I mean, theirs was atrocious, but there are good non-cliched ones.”

“Hmm… I’m not sure. What would you choose?”

Kara smirks and leans close. She presses a kiss into Lena’s neck and whispers as the music stops briefly for the DJ to ask everyone else to join them on the floor. “Come fly with me.”

“Perfect.” Lena chuckles.

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #fanfic #supercorp fanfic #fluff #domestic fluff

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itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 7 years ago

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Gotham 4x04: A Liveblog

Once again, friends, I come to you with review and summary of the latest Gotham events. And Ed’s back this time. ...god help us all.

TL;DR - I wonder what’s happening in the REAL Gotham where character motivation still makes sense

Ben, whatever happens, I’m holding you personally responsible

Side Note: what exactly IS an embalming knife? Like... where does a knife come into the embalming process? Is this the knife you use to carve out the mushy bits, is that it? Because like... to my knowledge, embalming is a primary function of embalming liquid. Like... mostly it’s preserving and shit. And I don’t know how a knife preserves fuck all. But maybe someone who knows anthropology or mortician practices can explain this to me.

“That cuneiform is definitely pre-Venetian” ...did... did I just hear that right? Oh, PHOEnician... that makes way more sense. I was just... had a heart attack for a second. Carry on.

Look Bruce, you could have a friend your own age! Or... you know, continue to live alone with your butler like... all normal kids do. I suppose you have Cat but... mmm. mm.

...Ed’s fine. He’s fine. Upside down in his... obsession pit. He’s fine.

It’s a TOTALLY NORMAL and HEALTHY thing to paste thousands of pictures of your ex all over the walls while you contemplate revenge, yeah that... this is fine. It’s all Fine.

You’re uh... looking a little ramshackle and disheveled there Ed, OH HEY KNIFE. HI, uh... Okay. Did you fucking... DRAW sketches of Oswald yourself? Oh my god Ed... oh my god. See you haven’t changed at all really.

Yeah, he seems fine

Meanwhile, stuffed birds all over the place. I’m sure that’s... fine

You know, it’s pretty great how ancient cultures are always keen to write their hellish prophecies on their murder weapons, always appreciate that

UHHHHHH SABER SKELETON. UHHHHHH. UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. *Randall Tier flashbacks* UMMM UMMM UMMM UMMM. I JUST UH. I FEEL LIKE YOU GUYS MIGHT WANT TO BE CAREFUL WITH THE ALLUSIONS YOU’RE MAKING GUYS. YOU DON’T HAVE A WILL GRAHAM TO SAVE YOU.

Just... just all of the safe. All of the safe.

Maybe uh... maybe don’t talk about the Demon’s Head being a person and then cut to a saber skeleton. Maybe we don’t encourage brutal fledgling serial killers hahahahaha.

That uh... sure is some hair, there, Alexander Siddig. God this show’s aesthetic is fucking weird.

...this whole sequence has been nothing but Hannibal allusions.

They are REALLY pushing for the Hannibal aesthetics. Got a real crush on that show.

Look Bruce! Your new friend has ALSO been traumatized by witnessing the death of his guardian! You have so much in common!

*frowns* Harvey left and didn’t tell Jim??? Like, given what happened this summer, I can totally understand Donal not being around for filming but... write it better than “Harvey left and didn’t tell Jim” Because that’s bullshit.

I also DO NOT WANT TO PARTICIPATE in a love triangle where 2 women fight over Jim’s soul NO NO NO NO NO. So if that’s where this is going FUCK OFF, FUCK EVERYTHING, AND FUCK YOU.

Welp, seeing another dead guardian should stir some shit up for Bruce

At least this sends Jim back to Barbara... I mean, that’s not really a positive, but at least I don’t hate Jim and Barbara, mainly because they have the stamp of canon on them

I don’t know how I feel about Babs hair this season, it’s... different

Okay, HARD NO on Ra’s-al-Ghul’s underlings, HARD NO. I just came from American Gods and THAT IS NOT ANUBIS. For one thing he’s white. What.

Intense staring contest with bowler hat. Oswald’s So Over It.

What’re you expecting Ed to jump out of it? Holy shit Oswald, calm down

I... you didn’t want to be disturbed... during your staring contest with the hat??? I... okay. Also, maybe close your fucking door then, it was wide open. Just saying.

Huh... Oswald and Sofia are meeting. Okay. Better put the masturbation hat away then Oswald, it’s a little too revealing

Hmmm... be careful Oswald. You’re right to be wary of her, don’t let her fool you. Also, Maybe Talk To Jim About This.

...White Rabbit. Really. *long, put upon sigh*

AAAAAAAAAAND the worst rap of all time! Well DONE Ed!

Oswald’s reactions to this are everything. Bless you Oswald. I love you. 100% everything I feel too.

Belated Side Note: Zsasz used to work for Falcone, and Falcone has taken control of him back from Oswald on occasion. Why then does Zsasz offer to stab Sofia? Is he truly loyal to Oswald now? Or was his relationship exclusively with Carmine? OR is it a bluff and Sofia’s already tapped him? Or will she tap him later? Lots of questions... lots of questions.

Yeah because WHY would you murder the guy??? It’s WAY more healthy for your psychological state to just... keep him on ice forever. That’s progress.

“I want Ed Nygma” we... we know Oswald. we know.

Always, ALWAYS the fucking docks. Goddddd. PLEASE GET A NEW SPOT YOU TWO.

Also, Oswald, DID YOU NOT LISTEN TO THAT??? That WASN’T a riddle, that was... statements. His brain is SHOT. God knows what a second spell in the ice will do.

Also also, I can guarantee that Ed won’t even be at the docks because he’s a dumbass now. And somehow the obvious answer will be wrong.

Um, frankly, I wouldn’t trust Bruce if I was Alex, Bruce is 100% the person who got Alex’s granddad killed. I’d be super pissed at Bruce. But... y’know, okay, whatever. Moving the plot forward.

Ahhh, Alex is giving Bruce the benefit of the doubt, I see. Nice kid. Very generous in his grief.

Also, why the shit would he come after you? He wanted the KNIFE, that’s it. I mean... I guess you’re a witness, but he didn’t see you so he doesn’t know about you. You’re not in danger kid. At least, not so much danger the police can’t take care of it, for once. You’re very much safe as houses until the plot inevitably fucks this up.

It would be a good idea to give up the knife tho, then you’re really in the clear

How the FUCK is Ra’s-al-Ghul at the library! How does he know to come here? Presumably he knew to come to the antiquities room because he was tracking Bruce because Babs told him to... I guess he could have tracked Bruce here then. Meh.

Ah yes. The creatures. Fuck that.

White people speaking ancient Middle Eastern languages. Mmmm nothing like it.

Ah, the old collapsing book case technique! Because no one thinks to GET OUT OF THE WAY of that shit. Nah, just gotta stand here and be crushed by the 3 ton weight of literature. It was my destiny to die this way.

Oh, I see, you’re just going to make like a harmless academic and this knife has been in your family for generations, of course...

You’re awfully paranoid kid. I mean... I suppose you were attacked now, so... I guess that’s justified

Uhhhh, kid, Bruce is not a Good Example of literally anything. He’s been training to become the world’s most popular vigilante for a few years now and that was born out of this very trauma so... y’know, don’t compare yourself to him. Please don’t. We don’t need more Batmans.

“No, you’re cool” I think you mean wealthy. Wealthy and cool CAN intersect but I feel like this is a classism thing. Let me provide you with a book on Marxism, kid.

If this doesn’t turn into another exploration of sexuality subplot, I’m gonna be disappointed

Uh, if he’s here on international business, like... check his visa Jim, he should have legal paperwork and shit to take that knife back to Nepal

JIM. WHY ARE YOU TELLING A MURDER SUSPECT THAT THERE IS A LIVING WITNESS. YOU’RE ACTIVELY PUTTING THE KID IN DANGER HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT NOT GOOD PROTOCOL JIM. Unless you were planning to trip him up on a lie, THIS IS NOT GOOD PROCEDURE JIM. THIS IS A HANNIBAL LEVEL FUCK UP. AS PEOPLE CONTINUE TO TELL HANNIBAL, THE ACTUAL CHESAPEAKE REAPER, SENSITIVE CASE DETAILS ALL THE FUCKING TIME. HOLY SHIT NO.

This... this whole interrogation is a shit show, oh my god, not great work, very bad work, the both of you. Awful lying, Get Good.

Welp. I guess Ra’s-al-Ghul can teleport. Or turn fucking invisible. Glad that’s very justified. Everyone know if you get resurrected you get Special Powers. The divine amniotic sack gives to all.

Yeah because Sofia Totally Won’t Challenge Penguin For Power. That Defs Won’t Happen. And It Especially Won’t Involve Jim.

Oswald You Good. You Good Good Good Villain. How I Love Thee.

Brilliant babe who is rightfully suspicious after 3 seasons of this bullshit. Y’all fucking forget that Oswald is a sewer rat, you cannot trick him.

Oh boo hoo Sofia, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you

Her criticism may be valid, BUT, on the other hand, as I said, Oswald’s lived through 3 seasons of this bullshit, while you lived the high life in Cuba. You might have your father’s perspective, but you don’t have any of Oswald’s hands-on experience. I still stand by Oswald’s decision to just murder them, he’s played the politics here long enough to know there is no loyalty amongst thieves. Not for him.

You know, it’s very considerate of Ra’s-al-Ghul to break shit every time he enters a scene so we know he’s here. Very thoughtful of him.

Oh it’s his fucking creatures again... ugggghhhhhhh...

More quality rapping! Good job Ed! Continuing to be the Best!

HAHAHAHAHA *more Randall Tier flashbacks* HAHAHAHAHAHA! ALL of the Hannibal allusions! Phew!

...no. no to the bone gag. just no.

Yeah, kid’s dead. Good job Ra’s-al-Ghul, at least you come through on your weird ass threats.

I mean... Ra’s totally made you make that call tho Bruce, this is his sick game, it’s on him. No one should have to decide between the death of one innocent or the deaths of millions of innocents. That’s a bullshit moral quandary that doesn’t actually exist. He wants you to think like he thinks, that’s all, this is psychological warfare, that’s the whole point. Remind yourself he did this, not just for the active murder, but more so because he thinks there is something to be gained by making you do this. He’s the asshole responsible.

Ed, I’m just... sweetie, pumpkin, if your point is to prove Oswald is a coward or an idiot, then... you proved it. Running after him sorta... disproves your point. If you want to meet him and murder him then... make that the point. Just... show up and murder him in the first place. *siiiigh* Or invite him to a cordial murder, whatever, but don’t make it a contest of wits if what you rally want is a confrontation. Get your shit together.

*nods* He’s right, they do suck, they were AWFUL

This... that... was bizarre. This was bizarre. What... exactly does Oswald want? I don’t understand. I know Ed isn’t himself anymore, but... you could help him. You could help him become himself again. And you both hate and are afraid of the Riddler. Why... would you want him back? As you just said, you want him only to freeze him. And just... that personality wasn’t even WHOLE, it was a fractured disaster. That wasn’t even a person. Just like this isn’t even a person. Why would you taunt Ed with saying “you’re not him”? I know you want Ed as an equal, but... do you think he can only be your equal as the Riddler? Who you hate and fear? You’ve got some weird ideas floating around in your head, Oswald. I would make the argument that you don’t hate or fear the Riddler nearly as much as you claim to and you want to bang the living daylights out of him, but like... *siiiigh* I dunno. You didn’t always want that. You wanted Ed to be whole and your equal. Nothing you’ve seen of him since he was your chief of staff has been real. None of it, all of it was a mistake, aborted attempts at personalities. And I just don’t know what you want anymore if you won’t take this broken, defunct Ed and help him.

You’re pushing him towards becoming the Riddler again, so I guess that’s what you want. And maybe you’re tired of being his mentor, after all, you tried that, reluctantly, and that went SO well. Maybe you hope/expect him to work it out for himself, and come back to you when he’s ready. That would put your relationship in a WAY different paradigm than it has been... but... okay??? I guess??? I’m having another time of not knowing what the hell the writers want for them

Why. why why why why. I hate everything.

I hate Jim so much

Ben You Done Fucked Up.

#Gotham spoilers #This season might kill my entire interest in the show #Nothing about this episode was satisfying #Everything felt like lukewarm mush #I am not excited about anything that happened #Ugh

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dracox-serdriel · 8 years ago

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Supergirl Fic: The Great and Noble House of Gand - Chapter Three: Brink

The Great and Noble House of Gand

Title: The Great and Noble House of Gand Author: Dracox Serdriel Word count: 3,000 Rating: R Spoilers: All episodes of Supergirl through 02x17 Distant Sun Warnings: Isolation, imprisonment, heartbreak, mental and physical abuse, memories of past/childhood abuse, psychological manipulation Summary: Canon-divergent from 02x17 Distant Sun. With no means to rescue Mon-El from the Daxamite battle cruiser, he is stranded on the ship bound on a four-year journey to his home planet.

Read the Great and Noble House of Gand on AO3 or FF.

Chapter Three: Brink

Mon-El became aware of things in short, tumultuous bursts, as if his life was flickering on and off. Light and sound hit him hard and fast before the pain consumed all his other senses and everything went dark. There was no time to think or reflect, even if he had his faculties at his disposal.

"Mon-El," someone whispered.

No, it can't be.

"Mon-El."

He opened his eyes and emerged from the darkness for what felt like the hundredth time. The voice that called for him was quiet, and he couldn't believe it. Even when his eyes fell upon Kara standing at his bedside, he couldn't believe it.

"I'm dreaming," he muttered.

She smiled but did not correct him, and for a few minutes, all he did was stare at her in wonderment.

Gradually, he became aware of his surroundings. The rumbling and beeping of machines combined with the persistent discomfort of monitoring equipment meant that he was likely in the medical ward. That confused him, for the last thing he recalled was following Raphin into the lift.

"What happened?" he asked Kara.

"You already know," she replied.

"No, I - no, I don't."

This must be a dream.

Kara would've gotten closer after he woke up from a near-miss. She would've held him, kissed him, touched him.

As if the thought commanded it so, she joined him on the bed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close, gently caressing his head with her hand. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him, no longer caring if he was awake or asleep.

"You're not asleep," she said.

He smiled at that and began walking through the last of his memories. He and Raphin were in the lift when it felt like lightning struck him. Had the DEO managed to acquire a spacecraft? Or maybe Winn had figured out how to resurrect some of the spare alien technology they had lying around. They must've come after him, and somehow, during their rescue attempt, the lift had been damaged. That's why he was in the medical ward.

"You know that's not the truth."

His eyes snapped open, for while Kara had known him very well, she had never been able to read his mind literally. What was happening?

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You can feel it," was all she replied.

Mon-El had been so focused on how good it felt to be held that he ignored the continuous discomfort and constant cold that radiated from his left arm and right leg. He glanced down and saw IV lines running from both. That was odd. Even when he was dying of the Medusa virus, the DEO hadn't done that.

"Because they couldn't," she reminded him gently.

The DEO couldn't puncture his skin, so they had to use the same adaptive technology they used to monitor Kara's vitals. As far as he could recall, it was a kind of visor that went around the crown of the head. He raised his free hand to his forehead to touch it, only to find that it wasn't there.

The confusion persisted until he recalled waking up sore because his powers had faded completely. The DEO must've realized that and taken advantage to treat him more effectively.

"You know that's not true, either."

He looked up at Kara's face hoping to find solace there, but more importantly, to distract himself from the inevitable conclusion that his mind was racing toward. He already knew the truth, but he wanted to pretend a little while longer that he was back on Earth with the woman he loved. He focused on the shape of her lips and the graceful slope of her nose. He stared at those beautiful comets that comprised her eyes.

"You know where you are," she whispered softly.

Mon-El didn't want to think about it. She cupped his cheek and pressed her forehead into his, bringing her eyes impossibly close to him.

"You need to accept it," she said.

He swallowed hard against the bitterness that was swelling in his throat. After she discovered the truth about who he had been on Daxam, he promised that he wouldn't lie to her again. And in this moment, he found that he couldn't even lie to himself when staring into her impossibly blue eyes.

The DEO always employed yellow sun lamps to help Kryptonians and Daxamites recover from serious injuries or power loss, and he had seen Winn, Alex, and other humans treated enough times to know that standard medical practice on Earth was a single IV line to the arm. On Daxam, however, the standard was two lines situated to arm and opposite leg.

All this added up to one simple fact: he was not being treated by the DEO.

Did that mean that the rescue attempt had failed? He choked on the idea of his friends being captured, injured, or killed trying to save him. He wasn't worth that.

"You know what happened," she repeated.

Mon-El remembered standing in the lift, an abrupt increase in pain, and then falling to the floor. Those little moments he recalled between then and waking up to Kara's voice were little more than chaotic movements with so much sound and light that they seemed unreal.

"I collapsed," he said. "But I don't remember why."

Suddenly, he was standing next to her, and he clasped her hand in his, weaving their fingers together as he took in the sight before him.

He - or his body, at any rate - was lying in a hospital cot, unconscious. The layers of blankets made it hard to tell, but it seemed that his clothing had been replaced with a medical gown. Countless monitors surrounded him, presenting constant information on his vitals, all in High Daxamite.

"It can't be that bad," he commented as he looked to her for support. "It's not like they have me on life support."

Kara gave him a look that he had come to know as the "Are you sure about that?" expression. She wore it every time he announced that the movie they were watching must surely end happily. He tended to do this right before everything turned sour, but for some reason, he always expected the next one to have its own happy ending.

He turned back to his body and was shocked by what he saw. They did, in fact, have him on life support, complete with circulatory assistance and a full breathing mask. How had he missed that before?

"You see what you want to see here," she said, as if to answer his question.

"That explains why I see you," he replied with a smile.

"But you need to see more," she explained. "Even if you don't want to."

He nodded his head, yes. It was the only way he would know what had happened and if his friends were still alive, which meant he didn't have the luxury of hemming and hawing over how this couldn't be real. Kara had taught him that he had survived for a reason, that he lived for a reason, so he must be here - wherever here was - for a reason, too. His resolve only faltered upon one consideration.

He asked, "Will you stay with me?"

Her lips formed a smile that shined so brightly that it put the stars to shame.

"Of course I'll stay with you," she replied, squeezing his hand as reassurance.

Mon-El then turned to take in the rest of the room. There were at least a dozen people dressed in medical garb focused on him, or the sleeping version of him, in any case. No one seemed to notice that there was another Mon-El nor Kara, probably because they weren't really here.

So he followed one of the doctors out. No sooner had they stepped outside the room than he wished he hadn't, for his parents were waiting, their faces grim and crestfallen.

"The surgery was completely successful, your Majesties," the doctor said in High Daxamite. "The internal bleeding has stopped now that the blood vessels have been repaired."

"Were your associates able to discover a cause?" the King asked.

"His Highness's injuries are congruent with those sustained from a direct high-energy blast while wearing heavy armor," the doctor replied. "Though a rare occurrence, the injury could have been incurred up to twelve hours before collapse."

"While he was still on Earth," the Queen said, not bothering to hide her distain.

The doctor bowed his head as an indicator of an affirmative answer.

"When will he wake up?" the King asked.

"That... forgive me, your Majesty, I cannot be certain," the doctor replied. "Each patient is different. His Highness is young and healthy. He could be awake in as soon as a few hours."

"Why isn't he breathing on his own?" his mother demanded.

"One of his Highness's internal injuries was very close to the heart, your Majesty," the doctor explained. "By necessity, our repairs caused widespread inflammation in the lungs. But I wish to assure your Majesties that this reaction is entirely normal and expected. That was why we waited for half a day before our first attempt to wean his Highness from the vent. Our tests show that the inflammation has persisted longer than anticipated. With your Majesty's permission, we shall administer additional medicine to reduce the inflammation and try again in a few hours."

Mon-El spotted the fury on his mother's face before she turned away to conceal it. His father laid a hand on her shoulder to comfort her, and she immediately tensed under the affection, resistant as always to any sign of weakness shared with those she deemed as lesser than herself. A moment later, however, she relaxed and dropped her head into her hands.

"Continue with your treatment," the King said. "Report to us immediately if anything changes, no matter how unimportant it may seem."

"Yes, your Majesty," the doctor replied.

He bowed deeply before taking his leave, and Mon-El wondered what would happen to the doctor who tried to save his life if he died.

"Rhea," the King said. "Please."

Mon-El suddenly felt like he was spying on his parents, and he felt the urge to leave before he accidentally intruded on them. He decided to leave and see who else was in the medical ward.

When he went for the door, Kara became an immovable force that anchored him to the room. He gave her a confused look, and she answered his question before he had a chance to ask it.

"Listen," she said. "You need to hear."

The only way to escape his parents was to relinquish her hand, and that was far too high a price. So he stayed.

"He will recover, Rhea," the King said.

She turned to face him. She replied, "We left the poison of Earth behind us, yet it still tries to take our son."

Had they not been in a semi-public thoroughfare, Mon-El had no doubt that his father would've embraced his mother. She had always insisted that such things made her appear weak, even though it flew in the face of Daxamite custom. His father had always respected her wish to avoid public displays of affection despite the social expectations to the contrary. It was such a break with tradition that it garnered commentary, and those brave souls who dared whisper a word against the Queen referred to her as the Ice Queen. That nickname melted away after his birth, for she never hesitated to show maternal affection in public.

"You should sleep," his father insisted. "I'll stay with him tonight."

She shook her head, no, but then she relented and left without another word. The King turned to his son with concern etched into his face.

"They think I was injured on Earth?" Mon-El asked. "That's impossible."

"Is it?" Kara asked him.

"Uh, yeah. I was invulnerable there," he replied.

"Not entirely," she said patiently. "And not long before you boarded this ship, you were involved in two fights. You could've been injured in either. Or both."

"Which I wouldn't have noticed if I had stayed on Earth," he said, cottoning on. "Because my powers would've healed me. But instead, I'm over there on machines."

A number of things occurred to him then. Had there been a rescue attempt, they would've assumed he was wounded during the attack. Collapsing from previous injures meant that none of his friends had been captured or killed, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

His father's head dropped into his hands suddenly, drawing Mon-El's attention.

"Is it just me, or does he seem a little too concerned?" he asked in jest.

"He can feel it," Kara replied.

"Feel it?" Mon-El repeated skeptically. "You mean us hovering next to him?"

"You're dying," she said bluntly.

He shouldn't have been surprised. At some point he had realized this for himself, but hearing the words fall from her mouth was like a shot to the gut. All the playful commentary fell out of his head, and he was instead left with nothing but fear.

"Right, well," he said. "Maybe it's for the best."

Kara's face fell, but she said nothing.

"Right?" he said, as if he might convince her. "I mean, all I want is to go back to Earth to be with you... to have our life there. But if I do that, my parents... they'd never stop. Living means fighting my parents until I don't have the strength anymore. It means being without you."

"I'm right here," she said.

Her eyes were wide and bereft, and her expression tugged at his heartstrings. With his free hand, he reached up and cupped her cheek to comfort her.

"Hey," he whispered. "Don't be sad. I'm not. I got to meet you. To love you."

"It's your decision," she said as her eyes swelled with tears.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. "Look at me. What can I do?"

"You can choose to fight."

"I did. I am."

"Are you?" she asked.

He was, of course he was. Maybe not as hard as he could, but he was fighting.

Her worrying crinkle appeared before she closed in for a kiss. It was slow and sweet yet took his breath away.

"It's your decision," she said. "But you know what I would want."

"Even if we never see each other again?"

"So long as you live, there's always the chance," she replied.

He gripped her tightly, desperate to reassure her, but as much as he wanted to promise her he'd live, he couldn't. Fate had set things in motion, and whatever happened next was in the hands of destiny. He could fight harder than he'd ever fought in his life, but that didn't mean he would win.

"When you get the chance, you should tell him what you need," she said. "You'll only get one."

"What?"

Whatever she meant, she didn't elaborate, and moments later, he found himself being pulled back into the darkness. He gripped Kara's hand with all his strength, and it reassured him until he realized that she was just in his head, a projection crafted from his memories of her. Then the sensation of her hand in his vanished, and he choked on the absence.

And he kept choking because something was lodged in his throat. Panic set in immediately as he fought against it, trying desperately to take a deep breath despite the obstruction. He tried to grab whatever it was, but his arms were like lead and wouldn't budge.

Sounds swirled around him as he gagged, and he wondered if this was how his life would end: alone, in a whirl of confusion and darkness. Terrified, he forced his eyes opened, desperate for a glimpse of Kara. He wanted her to be the last thing he saw.

His vision was fuzzy, and there were too many moving bodies around him, all wearing medical garb. One was standing over him, speaking.

"Your Highness, please, if you can, remain calm and cough," the man said.

Mon-El coughed hard and felt the impediment shift inside. He gagged as he realized that the man was attempting to remove a long tube, and he fought every instinct he had to cough again and again, hoping it would expedite the process. When it was finally out of his mouth, he gasped for breath and tried to roll to his side, but he didn't have much control over his body.

"Stand aside for his Majesty," someone said.

He looked up and caught sight of Kara decked out in her Supergirl attire, her crinkle etched deeply into her forehead and her eyes shining with both tears and hope. She looked at him like he was the only thing in the universe.

Then the King was at his side, grasping his hand and drawing his attention.

"Mon-El," he said. "Can you hear me?"

Tell him what you need, Kara's voice rang in his head.

He tried to say something, but his throat felt like he had recently tried to swallow a fireball. He wound up coughing more than speaking.

"It's okay, son," his father said. "Just breath. You're going to be okay."

Mon-El knew that his father wanted that statement to be true, but he still felt a shadow lingering over him that had not lifted during his abrupt thrust into consciousness. He couldn't be sure it would last.

"I... need..." Mon-El gasped. "I..."

"It's all right," his father said. "You should rest."

"No... I need... need..." he stuttered.

He could feel himself falling back into the darkness. Kara had warned him that he would only have one chance, and he feared he was losing it.

"Sun," he forced out. "Yellow sun... to heal... to..."

Mon-El spotted Kara over his father's shoulder, her smile beaming so brightly that it overshadowed his father's confused expression. Her brilliant comets were the last things he saw before he sank back into unconsciousness.

Author’s notes: I hope you’ve enjoyed this latest installment. :) The next one should be posted soon.

Tagging: @emarasmoak

#supergril #supergirl fanfic #mon-el #mon el #prince of daxam #kara danvers #kara zor-el #mon-el gand #rhea gand #lar gand #karamel #daxamites #daxam #the great and noble house of gand

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