#Zip's mother and father are 'present in spirit'

[knightmareaceblue]

Cyberweek 2024 Day Seven: OCs

Last one of the week! It's been a blast as always.

This year, I wanted to do something to show why Zip is the way she is, so here's Zip's last birthday before she went full super villain. None of her invited guests showed up, not even her affluent and very business minded parents.

Did they not show up because she annoyed them? Because they were intimidated by her status? Was there some other factor Zip wasn't aware of? Hard to say for sure, but after this Zip stopped trying the direct method when making friends.

#Cyberchase #Cyberweek2024 #Day Seven: OCs #Zip #Knightmare Art #Zip's mother and father are 'present in spirit' #Whatever that means when you ditch your daughter's first birthday after starting school #Not like they were really present for the other b-days #But Zip learned pretty early on that the only way she gets attention is by acting out #From there it's a smooth descent to villainy #Despite her wealth she only acts spoiled when she wants attention #Which increases after this incident #Not the only incident of its kind but definitely a breaking point

[blackautmedia]

Tears of the Kingdom and the Orientalism of the Mummy - Dehydrated Ganon

Plenty have talked about the portrayal of Ganon and the problems with both him and the Gerudo as a whole. I haven't seen as much talk about dehydrated Ganon specifically and wanted to share some of what I'm aware of.

TotK in many ways can be read with the number of plot points it lifts from classic mummy films, which in turn means it also picked up all the racial history and tropes that come with that.

Dehydrated Ganon and Phantom Ganon are mummies. He's explicitly referred to as such several times in the game and the game's opening relies on a number of classic mummy movie tropes in its presentation as introducing a corpse-like Ganon.

Here's an excerpt from the The Mummy On Screen: Orientalism and Monstrosity in Horror Cinema.

Male archaeologists, heroic adventurers and female heroines are all drawn to enigmatic corpses and/or racial ‘Others’, being variously hypnotized, transformed, romanced, coerced and/or transported away from their humdrum lives, sometimes through time to re-experience an ancient past in which they once lived, sometimes through space to Egypt where the monster stalks or seduces them.

Helen in The Mummy (1932) is a woman who succumbs not only to the influence of the Mummy but also to the lure of Egypt itself and its ancient ways that still hold sway.

 If one accepts Wood’s thesis, one can see the Mummy film as having a formidable formula, with the Orient serving as an effective site and its chief monster functioning as a potent medium for the release of the suppressed.

The game is built on Zelda being zipped to the past and her experiences in an ancient, mystical world and seeing the founding of Hyrule while Link is integrated into the resources left behind.

After Link and Zelda were drawn in by the Mummy's call to investigate beneath Hyrule following the rise in illnesses from the gloom.

Zelda is whisked away to ancient Hyrule where she spends time with her very heavily Native coded (which would need an entirely separate post on the tropes associated with that and the way the game uses Anti-Native tropes) Zonai pals.

She's in a rush to return home, but this new space also ends up being a big learning environment for her. She's exposed to this ancient and alluring culture that fascinates her and provides many of the wants and needs she expressed in BoTW.

She's given the supportive parents she's needed--a supportive father figure who explicitly supports her utilizing study to achieve her goals and a loving mother to teach her how to use her powers. She even gets a cool engineering/history auntie who shares a lot in common with her.

All of these things are stolen from Zelda because of the evil mummy.

The game makes great effort to play into the exoticized idea associated with the Zonai, right down to infusing Link and Zelda in their culture with Zelda given a new outfit, home, and lifestyle, and Link gifted with Rauru's power.

The Zonai in TotK are characterized less by their beliefs or the perspective of Mineru or Rauru and more framed in relation to the resources they provide others--the secret stones, the Zonai devices, the exotic, mysterious, ancient powers and knowledge, the zonaite you mine, Rauru's arm, etc.

That leads into another issue with how Tears reinforces the idea of Native extinction in how the Zonai are more characterized for the resources everyone is extracting from them rather than their actual peoples' thoughts and feelings and how that form of erasure harms real Native people outside of the fiction.

There's also the aspect of how the land and resources of these Native people are almost destined to fall into the hands of largely white, "civilized" Hyrule leaders with every other group serving under Hyrule's order geographically and narratively while the Zonai are people we only interact with in memories or as spirits.

The Orient until the second half of the nineteenth century had largely proven a fruitful terrain for colonial conquest and achievement for the British, but from the Indian Mutiny of 1857 towards the end of the century various military setbacks began to point worryingly to a decline in British power…In the aftermath of such events, rather than being perceived as ‘passive’, with ‘no capacity for violence’ (Mercer and Julien 1988: 108), the inhabitants of the Orient became more forbidding, a change in perspective reflected in the literature of the period that simultaneously portrayed anxiety concerning Britain’s own newfound sense of vulnerability.

Richard Marsh’s The Beetle...depicted Egypt as every bit as capable as Transylvania of bringing a primitive threat to the civilized West.

As Marsh’s novel exemplifies, the legacy of the ancient Egyptians had transformed over the course of the nineteenth century from one that bestowed valuable knowledge into one that offered secrets best left unearthed, being increasingly tainted as the years unfolded through its association ‘with the mysterious and supernatural, the questionable and disreputable’.

Mummy films rely very heavily on presenting the "other" as an exotic and almost tempting place for the civilized white protagonists to find and change themselves.

They also acted as a way to depict non-white people to bypass several censorship restrictions in earlier decades, so you often see them framed as romance films with an emphasis on a commentary about that dangerous, tempting allure of the mummy being used as a commentary on interracial relationships and intermingling of the civilized and uncivilized with a white gaze in mind.

Many mummy films also would utilize racial coding to characterize the mummy as hostile, dangerous, tempting or seductive in relation to the white, civilized character, something done with several other movie monsters like Dracula, King Kong, etc.

No matter the Zelda game, the structure ends up being largely the same with Ganon in that Hyrule or wherever is shown to be peaceful until the "evil man of the desert" invaded and defiled their space with his wickedness and disrupting the order of the gods and the status quo.

Dehydrated Ganon specifically is another extension in linking Ganon and his wickedness and evil to his heritage and status as a SWANA-coded character, in a lot of using tropes associated with Black people, etc.

He's not just evil because he's a selfish overlord, he's an evil "other" Middle Easterner invading the pure and peaceful environment the game made the effort to set up, and his constant presence looms in the game in how his corpse-like mummy servant is busy carrying out his will.

The Mummy and Nubian were a particularly suitable pairing considering contemporaneous racial stereotyping...Elizabeth Young years later highlighted others, identifying the black ‘brute’ as a stereotype that ‘carried particular force’ in 1930s cinema as ‘a monstrous beast.

Cultural attitudes towards African Americans manifestly became intertwined with contemporary ones concerning those of North African Egyptian Mummies in this version of the play.

In addition to Zelda being taken to the ancient past, we have the element of Ganon stalking and scheming to his rise to power in how he defiles the sanctity of ancient Hyrule continuing in the pattern of referring to him as the "man of the desert," another means of codifying Ganon as inherently evil by way of his heritage. There's almost constant reference to his home, the desert and anything else associated with othering him.

Ganon has previously used religious iconography in how the Gerudo crest used to very closely resemble the symbol of Islam.

He also uses racial coding associated with antisemitism in how he's a green-skinned, hook nosed magic-wielder.

There's Anti-Black imagery in his muscularity and chains and how he devolves into a mindless, savage brute.

There's all the decades of sentiments toward SWANA people wrapped up in him and the mummy is a continuation of that in how dehydrated Ganon is presented as a stalking, corrupting presence who defiles the sanctity and draws the civilized white protagonists in with his tempting allure. Phantom Ganon is a looming threat who can arise out of nowhere.

I know dehydrated Ganon is the same dude as regular Ganon, but I do think there's an extra element to discuss in how Tears uses decades of old mummy horror and the racial coding that comes with that to further the idea that Ganon is an evil SWANA man who needs to be feared and eradicated.

#tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda #totk critical #mummy film #orientalism #phantom ganon #islamophobia #dehydrated ganon #zelda #link #ganon #ganondorf #twilight princess #totk spoilers

[mattsturniolosmuse]

Father Dexter

Dexter Morgan x Daughter! Reader

Summary: You are Dexter's daughter, 17 years old. Your mother gets murdered, and Dexter is there to calm you and protect you from further harm.

Warnings: Swearing, gore

🔪♥ 🔪♥🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥ 🔪♥

*8 years earlier*

Blood. It was everywhere.

Staining your skirt, splattering your face.

Your mother, lies in the middle of it all. Her body parts strewn across the room. Her arm on one side, near the wall. Her leg by the couch. Her head resting just 1 foot away from you.

"Dad!" You scream. "Daddy!"

You sit there for hours. Hours, that seemed like days. The coppery blood dried to your face.

"Y/N, I'm home." Your dad calls from the foyer. He enters the room with a smile, holding a bouqet of lilies. Your favourite.

You begin to sob as your father calls the Miami Metro Department.

He picks you up, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

"It's OK, my angel, Aunt Deborah is on her way." He says, stroking your hair.

He carries you to the kitchen, wetting a cloth in warm water. He wipes your face gently, tears pouring down his face.

"Let's go change." Dexter says. You slip off your skirt, and Dexter puts it in a large zip lock bag. You take your shirt off. Dexter lays out some jeans and a pink sweater.

"Change, sweetheart." He says. You do.

🔪♥ 🔪♥🔪

*Present day*

"Dad? I'm going out with Joel." You call down the hallway towards the direction of your fathers bedroom.

"Hold up." He calls back. You lean on your door frame. He takes a look at what you're wearing. A nice dress, modest, though. It was down to your knees, and hugged your waist nicely. It was a halter top, showing no cleavage. Your father was strict that way.

"You look nice, my angel." He says, pulling you into a hug.

"You know the drill. No strangers, call me when you get there, if you want to leave just text me and I'll come and pick you up." He says, looking at you again.

"You're growing up. You've got a boyfriend." Dexter says, tears in his eyes.

"You can drink alcohol in less than a month, for god sake!" He says. You nod and smile.

"Bye, dad." You say, kissing his cheek.

"Bye, kid." He says. He watches with sad eyes as you get into Joel's truck. He's tried to protect you as much as he could.

The day your mother died was one of the worst days of his life. He vowed to hunt down the man who killed your mother and kill him. And so, he had found him, and it was going to happen tonight. Tonight was the night.

🔪♥ 🔪♥🔪

Dexter watches as the man leaves the bar, waving bye to a few friends. The man was a lot thicker than he was in his photo, with tattoos covering his arms and legs.

Dexter had hid himself in the back of the guy's car. When the guy got in, Dexter wrapped a metal wire around his throat.

"Go where I tell you. Or else I'll kill you." Dexter says to him, voice deep and unrecognizable.

The man follows Dexter's directions, and they arrive at their destination. An old fisherman's shack, that hasn't been used for 6 years.

Dexter followed his routine, injecting poison into the man, knocking him out. He laid him flat on the table, wrapping Saran wrap around his body, securing him to the table. Now, he just had to wait.

A few minutes later, the man gained consciousness, his eyes opening and closing due to the bright light. When he finally got used to it, Dexter spoke.

"Hey there." Dexter said, standing over him with a rigged knife. The man's eyes widen.

"What? What did I do? What do you want from me?" He asks. Dexter chuckles, shaking his head.

"Your life. You killed my wife. Which killed my daughters spirit. She was going to be an actress, you know. Until you killed her mother." Dexter says, slicing the knife into his cheek, drawing blood and dropping it onto a file.

"Who? I don't know what you're talking about." The man says, blood dripping down his cheek.

"Oh, I think you do." Dexter says, stepping aside so the man could see the photos of your mother. The man's eyes widen, his veins popping in his neck.

"She deserved it, that bitch. I am not sorry." The man said, full of venom.

"Good. Well, I don't regret this." Dexter says, swinging a butcher knife down on the man's neck, slicing his head clean off. Dexter smiles as the blood splatters over his front.

A small squeak snaps him back to reality. He looks up, bewildered, towards the front of the shack, seeing you, his beloved daughter, standing there, purse in hand, eyes wide at the mess in front of you.

"Oh my fucking God." You tremble, as you stare at the bloody mess and your father.

"Shit. Angel, it's not what it looks like." Dexter says, pulling you into a hug, coating your front in blood.

"How'd you find me?" He asks you.

"Well, you forgot to turn off your location, I guess." You say, not peeling your eyes away from the dead body. He seemed odly familiar.

"Dad, who is that?" You ask, stepping closer to the dead body. You examine his face.

"Well, it's the man who killed your mother." Dexter says, following you. It suddenly snapped into place.

The man's face, a sinister smile from ear to ear, as he forced you to watch him slice your mother's arms off, followed by her legs and head.

You start to cry. Sob.

Dexter pulls you into a hug.

"I'm sorry, angel." He says, kissing your head. You sob into his shoulder.

"You? You're the bay harbor butcher?" You snivel, looking at him.

"Yeah. God, I hate that name." He says, rubbing his face.

"But you have to understand that I only kill those who have killed others before." Dexter says to you. You nod.

"Please, angel, you cannot tell anyone." Dexter says, hugging you again.

"Can I help you next time?" You ask, genuinely. Dexter pauses.

"Of course you can." He whispers.

#Dexter morgan #Jeff lindsay #dexter #Miami florida #serial killer #the dark passenger

[ilyasorokinn]

(day 8) meeting the in-laws , nico hischier

note, this fic is part of my 14 days of christmas. check out this masterlist if you're interested. none of these fics in this series are connected, they are all standalone. another note, i honestly don't like this fic. i didn't know what to write and i really just don't like it. thanks for letting me vent :) pair, nico hischier x reader summary, y/n’s never met nico’s parents. not in the whole year and a half they’ve been dating. so he invited y/n home for the holidays, and introduces her to the family. warnings, anxiety over meeting the in-laws (is that a warning?) word count, 715 words

(gif not mine)

"Do we have everything? The gift for your mother, your father, your brother, your sister?" You listed as Nico zipped up his suitcase.

"Yes, we have everything. I checked 3 times." Nico told you as he put his suitcase upright and rolled it to the front door.

"Okay, do you have enough clothes? Do I have enough clothes?" You reached for your bag and went to open it but Nico stopped you by grabbing your hands.

"Okay, take a deep breath. I know you have everything so stop panicking. They're gonna love you." He reassured you, placing a kiss on the top of your head, "Now, we're gonna go to sleep, and tomorrow we're gonna wake up and we're gonna go to the airport." You hummed, wrapping your arms around him.

-

The next morning, Nico woke up to his alarm. He turned it off and let out a groan when he finally saw what time it was. He, of course, had set the alarm the previous night, but still didn't want to believe he was waking up so early on a day he didn't have practice.

He leaned over and wrapped an arm around you, which caused you to wake up. You whined, trying to push yourself further into your pillow and away from Nico, "We gotta get up or we're gonna miss our flight."

"Good." You murmured, "Maybe then I won't be as anxious."

"No, because then my family will hate you." He pointed out, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"Ugh!" You groaned, shoving the blanket off of you and heading to the bathroom.

"That's the spirit!" Nico teased.

"Shut up."

-

Despite waking up early, you and Nico almost missed your flight, which did nothing to calm your anxiety-filled brain. You both fell asleep sharing a pair of earbuds and when you woke up, the pilot overhead announced you were now in Switzerland.

"Are you ready?" Nico asked. You could feel the excitement radiating from him.

The smile on his face eased some of the anxiety beginning to pit in your stomach, "Yeah." You nodded, "I am." You slipped your hand into his and gave it a squeeze.

"They're gonna love you." He told you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You gathered your luggage and waited outside for his family to arrive. The moment the car stopped, his mother was jumping out of the car and wrapping her arms around her son.

She pulled away from Nico then looked at you. You offered a smile and before you knew it, you were wrapped in her arms, "Welcome." She greeted.

You hesitantly wrapped your arms around her. You were introduced to the rest of his family, who greeted you the same way his mother had.

Before you knew it, you were all back in the car, on your way to Nico's childhood home. Nico watched from the backseat with his brother as you and his sister talked about your two dogs.

"So, she's cool." His brother started.

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing." Nico nodded.

-

On Christmas morning, after breakfast was eaten, you were sat on the couch, wrapped in Nico's arms as presents were handed out. You were surprised when his mother placed a wrapped box in your hands.

They all watched you curiously open the box. You smiled when you saw what its contents were, "What is it?" Nico asked.

"Ornaments with all of us on it." You showed him. Nico laughed when he saw it. There were two different ones. One of them was a ceramic ornament with painted photos of your two dogs on them, while the other was a mug of hot chocolate and two marshmallows with your names on them.

"They're adorable. Thank you." You smiled at his parents.

"We heard you just moved into a new apartment, so we wanted you to have some ornaments to put on your tree." His mom smiled.

After all the presents were opened everyone departed and went their separate ways. You and Nico stayed on the couch, admiring your new ornaments, "See? They love you." Nico rubbed it in.

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Okay, I guess this is the part where you say "I told you so," You joked.

"Well, I didn't want to rub it in your face." He laughed.

-

my taglist: @brandtsclarke @jackydrury @joelsfarabees @tysonjost-taylorsversion @besthockeyfics @boqvistsbabe @joshsandersons @stars-canucks @punkharts @iwantahockeyhimbo @blondiekook @2manytabsopen @lady-laura-speaks @youngbeezer @maximoff-xmen @nightmareonspookystreet @heatherawoowoo @thescooby-gang @123happyllama @ggggmoneyyyy @voidohanax @4ambagelbites @lovethepreds @colecauliflower @kamri-janae123 @eve132 @ciziikas @wherethedinonuggies @monamourthings-blog @juliasvechaho @x-a-v20x @bandit-of-marshmallows @satanxklaus @bowenbyyram @himbobimboeater @Pasta88love @paintlavillered @itssophlouise @lam-ila @HockeyJedi13 @barzysandhughesbaby @kidlnthedark @drysdaleseyes @jostyriggslover96 @liz-69 @tanninetanya @capsleafsstarshurricanehamilton @duhaimes @kermits-fat-cock @raysofcrosby @drei-mrssvechii

add yourself to my taglist!

taylor's 14 days of christmas masterlist!

here are the two ornaments. they're linked above, but if you missed them, here they are. the dog one and the hot cocoa one.

#nico hischier imagine #nico hischier imagines #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl blurbs #nhl fic #nhl #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey fic #hoco #hockey #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils imagines #new jersey devils fic #new muslim #new jersey devils #taylor writes #taylor writes: hockey #taylor's blurbs #taylor's 14 days of christmas!!

[dancedance-resolution]

here's my design for goty 2022 (in an au where copyright isn't an issue)

FACTS

name: nia mahdi

age: 11

ethnicity: persian

religion: muslim

family: nia is an only child. she was born in charlottesville, va, after parents immigrated there from iran.

notes: nia is autistic and trans <3

DOLL

face mold: nia would get a new face mold that is designed based on ethnically persian features

skin tone: 25 ("tan skin with warm neutral undertones")

eye color: dark brown

freckles: yes

hair cut: wavy, very long (kanani length)

hair color: dark brown

meet outfit: a trans pride flag colored scrunchy for her hair, a light blue zip-up sweatshirt that says "i am proud to be autistic" on the back, this t-shirt (a light blue t-shirt with fan art of dreamer with a trans pride flag cape) beneath that sweatshirt, these shorts (pastel plaid knee-length shorts), lindsey's striped leggings beneath those shorts, and sperry shoes

meet accessories: bright purple ear defenders, an AAC tablet, a doll-sized version of the 2021 dc pride comic book, this pink kryptonite chewelry

BOOK 1

(these books would have three authors - me, an author who is muslim and a second generation immigrant, and an author who is a trans woman of color. the reason for three authors is so that we can tell nia's story authentically - i'm autistic and have autism gender like nia, the second author is muslim and an immigrant like nia, and the third author is specifically a trans woman of color like nia.)

in chapter 1 we'll briefly go over this background information:

nia came out to her parents as trans on the car ride home from the last day of first grade. she chose the name "nia" because she wanted to name herself after nia nal, a character on her favorite show (supergirl) because nia nal is trans like she is, nia nal is an alien (and nia mahdi oftentimes feels like an alien around other humans), and nia nal is a really cool superhero! (unspoken: nia nal is nia mahdi's special interest.)

it took nia mahdi's parents a little bit of time to wrap their heads around her truth, but soon, they fully accepted nia for who she is.

that summer, her parents informed nia's school of her correct name, pronouns, and gender. and nia started growing out her hair, and she's never cut it since! nia loves her long hair.

when nia started second grade, nia's classmates sometimes accidentally called her by the wrong name and pronouns, but they always apologized and corrected themselves when nia pointed out their mistake. a few kids were confused, but once nia explained that she knows she's a girl just as well as you know you're a boy/girl, they all understood and accepted her :)

now onto the real content of the first book, which takes place from september to december:

nia's just started sixth grade at a new middle school. it's really loud, big, and hard. but she has a friend, ender. ender doesn't speak english well (he moved to america from turkey just last year), but that's okay because nia has trouble speaking sometimes too.

one day, nia's parents take her to a doctor, and she has to answer a lot of questions and take a lot of tests.

a few weeks later, nia's parents sit her down and tell her that she has been diagnosed with autism.

nia researches autism and feels very relieved and validated. (unspoken: autism becomes one of nia's special interests.)

at school, nia gets some cool accomodations: she's allowed to wear ear defenders at lunch and in the hallways, she can keep a tablet in her backpack to use for AAC when necessary, and she can use the school's sensory break room when necessary.

one time, nia gets very upset after receiving a "bad grade" on a reading test. a few of the questions asked her to identify characters' emotions, motivations, etc., and nia wants to explain to her teacher that her autism makes "emotional reading between the lines" hard for her. but she's so upset that her mouth isn't working properly, so she uses her AAC to talk to the teacher.

after that, one of nia's classmates makes a rude comment about her AAC. speaking through her AAC, nia explains to him why she uses her AAC. she stands up for herself.

in her free time, nia keeps researching autism and disability justice advocacy. she begins to think that her friend ender might be autistic too - he has a lot of autistic traits, and she's never felt alien around him in the way she does around most people.

she tells ender about her theory. ender says he's not sure whether or not he thinks he's autistic. but he does know that the hallways are far too loud, and he would like to be able to wear ear defenders like nia. so nia lends ender her spare pair of ear defenders.

the next day at lunch, ender gives nia back her ear defenders and reveals that he got in trouble for wearing in the hallway. the teacher thought he was wearing headphones and listening to music (which isn't allowed), and ender couldn't remember the english words to explain to her that they were just to shield him from the noise.

nia wants to help ender be able to wear defenders. she schedules a meeting with the guidance counselor. together, she and ender explain to the guidance counselor that ender just wants to wear ear defenders in the loud hallways. the counselor says that ender can't do that since he doesn't have an official accommodations letter.

nia leaves the office very upset. she knows from her research that autism diagnoses are very expensive and hard to get. she wants to find a way to get ender this accommodation without an official letter.

so nia makes a plan: she and ender write a long essay explaining why ender should be allowed to wear ear defenders.

they present the essay to the counselor, and she's convinced by their arguement. ender is now allowed to wear ear defenders in the hallway :)

to celebrate their victory, nia buys ender bright purple ear defenders (the same type she has) so that they can match :)

and that's the end of book 1

BOOK 2

book 2 takes place from january to march

nia goes on puberty blockers. nia's glad that she won't have to go through male puberty, but she also feels weird about it. nia is very excited to start wearing a hijab, and her mom says that she can start wearing a hijab when she goes through puberty and transitions from being a girl to being a woman. so, if nia isn't going through puberty now, when will she get to start wearing a hijab?

nia talks to ender about her problem. ender suggests that she should talk to her mom about it.

nia talks to her mom about her concerns. nia's mom explains that the shift from girl to woman involves more than just her body changing: it involves growth, strength of spirit, and learning about oneself. nia's mom will be able to tell when she's ready to start wearing the hijab, even if nia isn't going through puberty. nia feels a lot better now.

the next day at lunch, nia tells ender the good news. he is very happy for her. he then tells nia that he's scared of puberty too. he asks nia how she knew she was a girl, and nia explains how it was this strong internal feeling. ender reveals that he feels like he's not a boy or a girl. he's afraid that that means he's weird or broken. nia explains that he's not weird or broken - some people are non-binary, which means that they're not fully a boy or fully a girl. ender really likes that word. nia also tells ender that some non-binary like to use the gender-neutral pronouns "they/them" and asks ender if he would like her to start using those pronouns for him. ender says that he's not sure. he likes he/him pronouns, he thinks, at least for now. nia smiles and tells him that she's proud of him.

the spring dance is in march. nia and her mom go shopping for an oufit. at first, nia drifts towards the pretty dresses. she loves how they look and feels great in them, but she wants to try on suits too. she feels a little bit insecure when she realizes that she loves how she looks in the suit too. (plus, this navy suit will go better with her purple ear defenders than the colorful dresses will.) she's scared that her classmates will think she's not a "real girl" if she comes to the dance in a suit, but then she remembers her conversation with ender - when ender asked her how she knew she's a girl, her answer was that it was just something she knew. her gender isn't defined by her clothing preferences - she's just as much of a real girl in this suit as in those dresses. so nia buys the suit, and she feels very happy and confident.

at the dance, she finds that ender is wearing a skirt (and a tuxedo shirt and blazer). she runs up to him, and they both happy stim. they have a lot of fun dancing and snacking on cheez its together.

BOOK 3

book 3 takes place from april to june

the main plot of book 3 is going to be nia's grandmother visiting from iran for three months. nia learns a lot of new information about her family culture.

in june, to celebrate the end of the school year, nia's school has a multi-cultural night.

ender signs up to bring in some traditional turkish food and share some of the poetry his dad has written in turkish. he encourages nia to sign up for multi-cultural night too!

so nia signs up.

together, nia and her grandmother cook a ton of traditional iranian food to share at the celebration. she and her grandmother also work together to sew a special kaftan for nia.

the night of the celebration, nia dresses up in her kaftan and grabs the containers of food. as she's getting ready to leave, her father asks her to stop so he can take a picture of her. her mother says, "wait! i have one other thing for the picture!" (but spoken in faarsi). she emerges with a hijab for nia. she helps nia put on the hijab and tells nia that she's seen how nia's grown into a woman this past school year (aka, over the course of these 3 books). nia is so happy that she cries.

at the multi-cultural night, everyone loves the food and nia's kaftan and hijab. when ender sees nia's hijab, he starts happy stimming, and nia starts happy stimming too.

that's all my plans for goty 2022!

#american girl dolls #ag #long post

[calypsoff]

Eighty Nine. Part 2

My head in my hands, just praying and praying, praying that my daughter gets better. It’s breaking me seeing my daughter this way, I am going to need gran gran Dolly to look over my daughter right now, I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her; I can’t be without my daughter. I should be in that bed not her, her tiny body working overtime, but she is getting the help, by the grace of god she will pull through “please” I breathed out, I shouldn’t have taken her away, I should have kept her at the hotel, I should have not let anyone touch her, but I didn’t. I was being too happy and free with her, if I lose my daughter I am gone with her. Feeling a pair of hands on my arms “come here sis” Rorrey said, getting up from the chair and hugging Rorrey “how did I not realise this Rorrey? Look at my daughter, oh my god” Rorrey turned us around “this isn’t your fault, you got to know this. This happens, it’s a test. She is in the best care, you hear that. She is in the best place, you got to understand. You are so new to this; niece is only six months. Even I didn’t see the issue, you tried. You got the doctor to see her, if the doctor said that how is it your fault, stop this. If you are going to be like this then you not going to be good enough for her, she needs her mother Robyn. I know you need Rylee too, but she needs you, she needs to feel you there and being this way is not going to help her, she is going to feel you upset. You carried her Robyn; she is close to you. Come on Robyn, you got this” Rorrey is saying all this to me, but I am not taking it in, how can I when my daughter is on the bed just looking exhausted, closing my eyes slowly, her cries are just ringing through my mind, just crying and crying and I did nothing but wanting to feed her.

Stood over Rylee, watching her with just tubes all over her. I made the biggest mistake of my life, first with going on tour and I lost my baby, and now this. Maybe I am not fit to be a mother, maybe it’s me “hi, sorry. I am the nurse here, hello” looking behind me “I am Nicole, I work alongside Myriam, I have come to check on Rylee” she is smiling, and I don’t find anything to smile about “can I put this on my baby” I said sniffling, I am a mess “it’s her favourite blankie” she nodded her head “of course you can, we can put it over her legs that is fine. Make her all comfortable” holding it out to her “please” I don’t want to hurt her “I most certainly can” she took the blankie from me, stepping back “we can place it over her legs and body, come closer Rihanna” I don’t think I need to touch my daughter, clearly “I am here” I mumbled “look, her hand movement. It’s must really be her favourite” she fixed Rylee’ hand atop of the blankie “it is” that is it, tears again “do you know how hard it was getting here, nobody would let me in” Mel walked on “oh my word” she saw Rylee, I just sobbed out “oh no, Robbie” I can’t believe that this is happening, why me, why does this have to happen to me, always me “I failed Mel, I failed” Mel shushed me “stop it, hey. Calm down, just stop” Mel wrapped her arms around me tightly.

My head resting atop of Mel’ shoulder as my tears just fell, the nurse is checking on my daughter, but I just want her in my arms, I want her tiny little face to get excited when I see her in the morning, for her to be invested in my morning routine, her aura around me. She is literally my partner; she never left my side, and this has happened “is she ok?” Chris said, lifting my head away from Mel’ shoulder, I totally forgot about Chris being here, he has been so quiet sat there “she is, she needs more oxygen in her system more water and nutrients, she has missed a lot but progress” she walked around the bed slowly “we request no kids here in this room, this will stop the spread. She will be infectious for a good three weeks so the contact from child to child needs to be minimal. We request also to just have immediate family here, we have a few people outside that want to come, and I am sorry, but we can’t have them all in, we will need you both to list the names and keep it minimal, this ward has a lot of sick children, and we have less space, there has been an uprise in RSV cases so don’t feel you are a bad parent, you’re not. But I will leave you all to it, also we did want to move her to another ward, but we want her to get the best care and close to us, we need to keep an eye on her, but we will look to move her into a bigger room then, but I am just outside ok” nodding my head slowly, I wonder who is trying to come.

I wish when I walked into that apartment it was a different situation, I walked into that apartment and my goal was to annoy Robyn all day because it’s her birthday, I wish I didn’t see what I saw when I did, I wish it was different. My heart dropped seeing Robyn and Rylee like that, to see them both just crying out for help, you do anything you can do when you see that, I dropped my crutches and I was gone, to see my daughter and my wife like that and I wasn’t there, she needed me. Rorrey and I only went there early because, I don’t know really I just felt the need to go, and I did. I just jumped into help mode, but I really feel helpless, I haven’t been spending that time with her, she wouldn’t settle with me at all, she disliked me, and I felt it but she was in pain and I can’t blame her. I am going to be a broken man if I lose my daughter and I wasted those months doing what, this is what is important to me, this. I am so fucking dumb, now I am just on the edge. Every fucking moment, every smile, diaper, squeal, yawn, side eye. Hell even being sick on me, and she just smiled when she did, I want it back I took it for granted. When I see Rylee I just see Robyn and she does have my whole heart when she stares at me “fuck” I mumbled putting my head down “you got this” Rorrey placed his hand on my shoulder, he says that but I don’t think I have “you got this” he said again crouching down to me “the best thing you both got is each other, be there for my sister Chris, this is your moment” looking at Rorrey “you think” I mumbled “I do, you need to be the strong one to bring my sister back to thinking straight” Rorrey has a point but I don’t want to be in her face “stay strong brother” nodding my head.

I really would like this cast off, but I have no choice, Mel is stood away from Robyn and this is really my chance to go up to her because she is on her own next to Rylee’ bedside. I haven’t gone closer to Rylee’ bedside, I have stayed away in the corner because it pains me to see it, Robyn keeps blaming herself, but she wouldn’t have left the home and done all these things on her own with Rylee if I was home, I wasn’t there supporting her, so she didn’t herself, I am equally to blame in this. I fucked up bad, and on top of that I haven’t spent time with her, I am nothing like my dad, nothing like him, I am a bad person, and I can only blame myself in this. Hobbling over to Robyn, I am used to using no crutches now, I can just limp around like this. Just that it takes the weight off with crutches, Robyn looked over at me and she looks so pale, tired, her sore eyes. I don’t think I have seen Robyn cry this badly before, I have seen her cry but this, and I understand because I can’t even look at Rylee. I stopped at the side of Rylee “Mel, shall we go and see what my mother is doing” Rorrey said “yeah, we will be back” Mel said, my eyes dragged away to the bed and to see Rylee like that, I turned my head away. I am just so angry and hurt at myself, at everything. A sob left my lips, trying to keep myself together. Robyn turned to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, my lower lip trembling as I tried to supress the cry, but it happened “I know” she said, turning my head and resting my head on Robyn’ shoulder as I let out the cry I was holding back.

Wiping my face with my hands, Robyn moved back from the hug. Looking back over at Rylee, my daughter looks so unwell, and I hate it. Reaching my hand over, my fingers lightly brushing over her hand, her tiny little hands. This kills me so much; she is just so tiny “you know you need to rest” moving my hand back “how?” Robyn turned to me “stop fighting it, you need to at least have a nap. Let’s go and eat or something? Anything, I know you want to be here for Rylee, but you need to be here for that with strength, she needs you but being like this ready to collapse is not it. I am her father; I will be here. Let me be here, like you really do need to rest” so looks so tired, it’s not even funny “what if she wakes up and I am not here” she questioned “she has her uncle and auntie here too that adore her, you know everyone does. Just let’s go and get some food, when they come back we go yeah?” she is so reluctant in doing anything, but she is also so deflated “ok” she breathed out “cool, I think they got places here. I remember when you were having the baby, when I would want a cigarette, Starbucks they have and some other things” walking like this is going to be the death of me, I may need my crutches or get some from here “take me for a cigarette, you still smoke right?” nodding my head “take me when they come back” I don’t want her to smoke but I am not going to say no either, I won’t be doing that to be honest.

I found crutches, well I got the hospital to get some “lift your head up” Robyn said, looking up confused. She yanked my zip up on my jacket “I just don’t want to be seen” nodding my head “I mean you’re easy to notice, somewhat” she is wearing her brother’ jacket and hat, the hood is up too but we have to smoke outside so it’s public “that is your second one now, can we go in after that” she is just smoking my cigarettes “those ain’t cheap either” she side eyed me smiling “I see your spirit, call it a birthday present” this really sucks on her birthday too “ok that’s a cheap present now, I had so much planned for you too” shaking my head “that is sarcasm now, don’t give me that” I chuckled “I erm, I came to annoy you. Your birthday card is at the apartment somewhere, I don’t know where though because it kind of fell in the process, but I did have something planned for you, I had to change plans though” Robyn smiled lightly “sounds about you, coming to annoy me. I feel so much better having this, stressed out of my mind that my birthday doesn’t matter at all but that is sweet of you and that idiot because I know Rorrey was involved in wanting to annoy me” it was his idea “kind of” I won’t admit that.

I apologised to Robyn, I had too because I should be getting her things but like I can’t “it’s fine, you can’t obviously” watching her sit down across from me “Rorrey said that my mother managed to get her way to the room so I will see her, I just didn’t want to see her. Not in a bad way, when I was in that moment I just wanted her advice and I said she is not well, all she could say is that evil eye, she has got it, people are jealous. You flaunt her around everywhere, I am acting like a single mother, if I want to go travelling alone like a single person to give her to you and that I made her ill. Showing off to much, like everything was my fault and I didn’t want to hear that and now she will be like I told you so when I get to the room so I am not looking forward to it at all” I didn’t know Monica was saying all that “damn, really? She has been ok with me, then again your mother scares me so I am on my best behaviour. She was asking me actually, has she called you? And this was a few days ago actually, the day after you picked Rylee and left, and you didn’t call but I just said yeah, but I didn’t know she was doing that” I am shocked “she actually just said just sort yourselves out” I added “hmmm yeah, she kind of wants me to get on with it in a way. That I am not listening, but I just don’t want her involved, her views can be so backwards at times. She thinks the issues aren’t huge for me to move out, she is annoyed that I did, she is praising you for admitting it all to her” I cringed “how else could I get you to stay here” I blurted out “true, I am glad I did. She may have been this way while there and that would have scared me to have to rush back here, lucky call” I had no idea Robyn was having these issues with her mother.

#chrianna fanfiction #chrianna #chriannaff #chrianna ff #fanfiction #fanfic

[saiilorstars]

Sweet Ambitions

Ch.4: Worlds Apart (Pt.1)

Story Masterlist // Anais’ Masterlist // Masterlist of other OCs

Fandom: Supergirl // Pairing: Winn Schott x OFC

Summary: Anais meets a strange man who claims to be from another universe. Barry Allen also turns out to be a speedster which is luckily quite needed when Livewire and newcomer Silver Banshee decide to terrorize the city.

A/N: This chapter (and the next) is a crossover with my Flash fic Rise Up 

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother​​ @anotherunreadblog​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​ @stareyedplanet​​ @perfectlystiles​​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

Anais sat against her bedhead scrolling back and forth between the pictures she had of that strange man following her earlier in the week. It'd been two days since she'd snapped the pictures and since then Anais couldn't shake the feeling of being followed no matter where she went. It was difficult to start a new life with a stalker but it wasn't going to stop her anytime soon.

The cellphone in her hand went off, flashing the ID of her mother. "Hi, Mom," she greeted in a way that would throw off her mother from any suspicions of a problem.

"Hi sweetheart!" her mother was cheery by default. "I didn't know if it was too early to call but—"

"No, I'm due at work in about thirty minutes," Anais reminded.

"Yes! At your brand new job!" Her mother laughed in excitement despite the news being kind of old now.

Anais still smiled though. Her parents were incredibly proud of her that she'd managed to snag a job at one of the most important media places. "Yes, Mom, I know. Please don't do that when you come by."

Her mother laughed. "I will try my hardest but you know your father. He's even happier than I am!"

"Was there something you needed, Mom? Not to be rude or anything but...I have to get to work in a bit, remember?"

"No, uh, no...well…" her mother took a suspicious pause, "...you do remember that your father and I will be stopping by the day after tomorrow?"

"Believe me I have not forgotten," Anais promised her. Her eyes roamed her pretty desolate bedroom she'd yet to furnish.

"We just want to check up on you, sweetheart," her mother said, knowing well where her daughter's thoughts were. "We just want to make sure you're stable and that you're not over-exerting yourself at the DEO."

"Trust me mother, I'm not," Anais hated to repeat herself but if it was what her parents needed so that they wouldn't be around all the time, so be it.

"Well, take care of yourself, then," her mother said. "And just to let you know, your godparents are already in the city so you be sure to give them a call to get together."

Anais tilted her head back and brought a hand up to her forehead. My God I love you, Mom, but why? She should be used to her parents' over protectiveness, really. "Yes, Mom, I will."

With that, she ended the call.

She got out of bed and set her hands on her hips. "Oh Mom." She quickly sped around the room to make her bed - which was comprised of some of Kara's old sheets and covers - and went into the shower. In less than two minutes she was showered, dressed and hair-dryed. Her breakfast came in the form cereal, a banana, cookies and possibly the entire box of donuts Kara recently bought yesterday.

"You're going to buy more donuts on your way back from work," Kara warned when the two walked out the CatCo. elevator together. "You know I like eating the sprinkle donuts after work."

"Only took me a week but yeah, I learned," Anais chuckled. "Just take a quick cupcake out of that—" she nodded to the white box Kara held in her hands, "—and hold on until tonight."

Kara's snort was rather loud, making her the object of attention in the room. "I may be bulletproof but Cat Grant scares me sometimes."

It was Anais' turn to laugh. While only working for Cat two days, she learned that the woman did have quite an attitude that wasn't good for the faint hearted. Still, it made the working experience all the more interesting.

"Better get these to her right now," Kara went around Anais and headed into Cat's office.

Anais stopped by Winn's desk before going to her own which was closer to James' office. "Hey, what did the DEO say about...you know…?"

Winn put down a pen he'd been mindlessly twirling between his fingers. His face expression was enough to deduce things weren't alright. The DEO had played host to his girlfriend Siobhan Smythe who'd suddenly garnered the ability to scream loud enough to save herself from dying after accidentally falling over a rooftop.

"They said she wasn't alien," Winn started off with, his voice hushed so no one but them would hear. "Her DNA came back 100% human."

"So then how the hell did she get this ability to scream so powerfully?"

"The doctors didn't know," Winn rested his cheek against his hand. "I'm so confused about what's happening."

"I'd be too if my girlfriend suddenly turned into a banshee."

Winn blinked at her. "A what?"

Anais shrugged the term off. "A banshee. C'mon, you've never heard the stories? The Irish mythology says that a banshee is like a spirit with this killer shriek. Sorry Winn," her smirk wasn't really apologetic, Winn noted, "But your girlfriend is a banshee."

"You don't look so apologetic," his frown was a source of amusement for her.

She gave him a mock salute and headed for James' office. She was due for a new assignment and was itching to find out what it was. "Morning," she made a show of knocking as she opened the door.

"Morning," James greeted her with a kind smile. It was charming, which allowed Anais to see what Kara saw in him. Because yeah, after a week, it was also fairly easy to see Kara was in love with him. It was also easy to see James felt the same.

"So, you have an assignment for me?"

"Well, apart from the whole Golden Girl picture—"

"Not Golden Girl," Anais made a wave of her hand. "I'm so not Golden Girl."

James chuckled. "I know, but...Cat is grilling me for a picture. But, since I know that's not going to happen for a while, I thought you would like to snap pictures of a crime scene that led to the admittance of patients into the hospital due to an interesting condition."

"How do you mean interesting?" Anais crossed her arms.

"Well, the story goes these patients were admitted with electrical imbalances in the brain. It was out in the public and the scene is still scratched off as a crime scene, so…"

"Perfect opportunity to snap some pictures," Anais understood the mission, though she was still curious of the reason for the patients' condition. "Is there any leads for the case?"

James gave a shrug of his shoulders. "NCPD hasn't released anything yet. Sure we'll get something as the day goes by."

"Okay," Anais started out the office when James called her again.

"Cameras should be in, by the way."

"Ah, you know I wanted to use the one my parents bought me," Anais smiled at his intentions but there was no way she would ever leave her first camera.

"Just saying in case you wanted to be the same as the other employees…"

"Well, you and I both know that I'm nowhere near the same as the other employees," she winked at him and headed out.

Before she could reach her desk, however, she felt that same tickle in her mind again. She frowned and looked out the window. The stranger hadn't shown up again since the first time, but of course he would return. It was what Anais intended on when she gave Cat the pictures of him.

"Where are you going?" Both Kara and Winn called to her after seeing her rush to the elevator.

"Just need something outside! Be back in a bit!" she flashed them a smile just as the elevator doors slid shut. She was going straight for the rooftop, unfortunately missing the new visitor CatCo. had after the elevator opened up again in the office. She intended on finding the stranger up in the sky somewhere.

She made a quick stride across the rooftop and looked below to find no one. "I know you're out here! Don't make me search for you like I have all the time in the world!" Her calls were in vain, for no one came.

She closed her eyes and allowed a glowing orange energy mask the her face. If she was going to fly then she needed to be covered up in case any civilian caught her. With that, she rose into the air and scanned the other rooftops, as well as the streets below. Suddenly, there was a terrible wail from below - within the building - that made Anais cover her ears. She strained to keep herself in the air but when she heard glass shatter she knew someone would need her help.

Unfortunately, she knew the person who'd crashed through CatCo's wall.

"KARA!" she screamed and moved to catch her. Just as she was about to move down, something orange zipped across the street and up the building. It snatched Kara in her fall and left with her.

Anais remained in the air, now more confused than ever. "What?" she scratched the side of her head. Without hesitating, she pulled out her phone and snapped the best pictures she could of that lightning. She and Winn would definitely be going over them.

~ 0 ~

Kara didn't know what happened. One moment, Siobhan had come raging into the office and screaming that sent Kara out the glass window...and now she was suddenly in the outskirts of the city thanks to an orange blob.

Said orange blob turned out to be red, and in a suit. It was a man in a red suit who stopped her from falling yet had somehow made her catch on fire. Once she was on her feet she did her best to gather herself together. Now that Siobhan had acted out, she would need to be taken in...though by who? The police were no longer equipped to bring her into custody with those powers. It would become a DEO problem no doubt.

"You don't seem that bothered by the fact that you're on fire," the man's voice pulled her back to the present.

She looked down at herself and saw her shirt was still billowing flames. She gave it a careless pat and turned to him, rather confused with his presence. "I didn't need you to save me."

The man chuckled at her words. "You just fell from a skyscraper. So if I hadn't been there, you would have gone splat."

Kara's mind was back at CatCo. where she was sure the others were probably going out of their minds trying to find her body. At the very least, Siobhan was making an escape and it could be very difficult. "I have to get back to the city." She jumped into the air, leaving behind her clothes to become Supergirl. However, she noticed the same orange-gold flicker rushing below on ground, almost to her pace. She came to a stop and started to lower herself down, meeting the man yet again.

"How did you do that?" the man asked after catching up to her. "You're a meta too?"

Kara was completely lost. Was he seriously asking her who she was? She didn't expect to be worldwide recognized but at the very least she would've been mentioned. "I'm Supergirl," she said in a manner that seemed like it should be enough explanation. And it really should be.

It would have been if the man belonged to her world.

"You're who now?" he looked the woman over, still unsure of how she had changed from day clothes to a...costume?

"How did you save me?" Supergirl inquired, suddenly realizing he'd managed to grab her off a building like it was nothing.

"Well I... Y... You fell out a window and I... I caught you and... ran you... all the way out here-" he realized they were practically in the middle of nowhere, "-which I did NOT not mean to do but I've been working on my speed and...guess I'm faster than I thought."

"Clearly," Supergirl admitted. "But who are you?" She'd never seen that suit anywhere and she figured she'd remember it. It was all red except for the white emblem on the chest with s lightning bolt. "Wait a second, are you the one who's been stalking Anais?" her eyes narrowed on at him.

Red alert. This time it was the man's turn to say his name and think it was enough explanation. "I'm The Flash."

Supergirl did not blink. "The who now?"

"Wait, do you not know who I am?"

"Should I?"

"What about the Azalea?"

Supergirl questioned it with a look and shrugged. Wasn't that a flower?

"Green Arrow?"

No winner.

"Black Canary? Black Orchid? The Tempest?" Barry was getting more and more distraught seeing none of those names were familiar. "Firestorm? Atom? Datura? Zoom?"

"Sorry," Supergirl sheepishly smiled.

The man made the conclusion that he was not in the right place. One moment he was telling his friends he would be running even more and now suddenly he was somewhere far, far away. "Oh, boy. Not as sorry as I am." He removed his mask and released a big, weary sigh.

Kara took a moment to study him and see if maybe she knew him from somewhere (without the suit) and perhaps not recognize him too soon. Though his dark brown hair was a bit out of place from his cowl, and his green eyes were looking to the side in thought, Kara was sure she'd never seen him in her life. The red suit was just out of the question as well.

"Hey, I'm Barry Allen. I'm the fastest man alive. Also I think I am on the wrong Earth...and I'm gonna need your help."

~0~

Barry Allen had traveled to another world before, on purpose. It also included a sure way to return home. This time however, he had no idea where he was, nor how he would be returning to his own world. Luckily for Barry, Kara and her friends - who Barry had yet to meet - had a secret, small base in an abandoned office inside the building where Supergirl, known as Kara to the civilians, worked. Barry was quick to start searching for any familiar names he knew from his world who could help get him back home. He didn't even want to think what his friends would be thinking at the moment. Had he been gone for a couple minutes? Days? Years? Barry shook those thoughts out of his head.

He was sure his girlfriend would kill him if he was gone for years.

Kara, on the other hand, was oblivious to those thoughts. She had just learned there were other earths and that Barry was from another Earth. It all sounded too impossible. She paced behind Barry's chair, asking zillions of questions. "So what do you mean, you're from another Earth? What, how many other Earths are there other than this one?" Barry tried to answer her but she kept firing more questions. "You know, we're Earth."

The door of the room burst opened and in came a woman with long, straight blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She could have passed as Kara's sister had it not been for her more yellow hair and paler skin. She stopped her skipping when she saw Barry at the computers.

"Anais!" Kara turned on her alien friend.

Anais's eyes were wide in a comically way. "Kara…?"

Barry turned his chair around to meet the woman's gaze but found he was being scrutinized from head to toe. "Uuh...hi?" Her eyes seemed like they were permanently stuck being that wide. It was actually very concerning.

"Uh, Anais, let me explain," Kara cut in before things went further. She wasn't sure what Anais was thinking other than there was a strange man in their base. "Barry's the one who 'saved'—" she put quotation marks in the air, causing both women to momentarily laugh, "—me after Siobhan."

"I did," Barry made a face, but was not acknowledged.

"Also, he's from another world!"

"Universe," Barry corrected.

"Wait, wait," Anais pointed at him. "You're...you're from another universe? Like...like that multiverse theory thing Winn talked about the other day?" Winn had a lot of things to say and some of those things were not as interesting as he thought.

"Yes!" Kara exclaimed.

Anais took a moment to process this. She'd seen the lightning streak coming back into the city, and since Supergirl followed out of her own accord, Anais figured there was no danger. It allowed her to come back to the offices much more calm and headed up to their base where she presumed Kara would be. She was not expecting that man, nor the news that other worlds existed.

Wait, a second...did he just say he was…?

"And so, from this other world you're...fast?"

"Oh!" Kara made the connection. "He's just like you!"

Anais had doubt on her face. She placed a hand on her hip and looked Barry up and down. "I'm probably faster."

Barry didn't take this so well. "Hey! I don't know who you are but—"

"Thank God you don't," Anais said, just a tad wide-eyed. Oh my God she had to be dreaming but... this was too crazy even for her.

"Obviously," Barry mimicked her for a moment and elicited a small smile from her. "I'm from another universe. Literally. And I'm trying to find my friends from this world…" he trailed off and plopped down in front of the computers again to continue his search.

Anais cleared her throat, getting serious. So, this wasn't a dream. This was happening. "And let me guess? Not going so well?"

"Nope! You guys have Central City but you don't have S.T.A.R. Labs. No Cisco Ramon, no Harrison Wells, no Caitlin Snow. Nobody who's gonna be able to help me get back home," Barry leaned away from the computer, dejectedly. "I don't even see a Belén Palayta anywhere on this thing. That's the real downer here." Having his girlfriend around would make things ten times better...even if she wouldn't know him because this was, after all, a different universe. He was already dealing with angry doppelgangers.

He missed Anais' small smile.

"Hey!" Winn burst into the room along with James. "Kara, are you alright?" they knew she had to have been with her powers but the fact Supergirl hadn't made an appearance right away was what made them worry perhaps not everything was okay.

Kara nodded reassuringly at them. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. What happened to Siobhan?"

"Oh, well, after she went all Mariah Carey on you, she just split," Winn made a nod to the side.

"Told you she was a banshee," Anais flashed a smirk his way which didn't help him at all. Winn pointed at her, hoping she wouldn't say more.

"Oh, so we both have Mariah Carey. That's something," they heard Barry say.

James threw him a suspicious look. "Who are you?"

"Hey, sorry, I'm Barry Allen," Barry got up from his chair and went to shake hands with him.

"James Olsen. And this is Winn."

"I'm Anais!" the second blonde introduced herself with a strange excitement in her voice. "I just realized I didn't introduce myself to you. Anais A...Anais Mjorkland," she extended her hand to Barry. Barry shook her hand and missed Anais' friends exchanging mutual confused expressions behind them.

"Uh, you guys…" Kara laughed at the impossible thing she was about to repeat. "I'm not quite sure how to tell you this—well, I do know how to tell you, I just—"

James cleared his throat, hoping to get her to move on. "Kara?" Barry grinned because Kara sounded like she usually talked, or rambled, more than necessary. It reminded him of his girlfriend.

"Yeah, right, sorry," Kara shook herself to get back on track. "Uh, Barry... ...is from another universe."

Winn appeared like he had just heard it was Christmas already. "Cool! So the, the theory of the multiverse, that's true?" Barry gave the confirming nod and flinched when Winn gave a loud "AHA!" at the others. "See!? I told you! Didn't I tell you?"

Anais rolled her eyes at him. "To be fair, half the science things you say sound kind of warped to me."

Winn didn't seem very amused by her comment, much less when James and Kara nodded in agreement. "You guys are bad friends."

Barry couldn't help but think of Cisco right at that moment. "It's true."

"That seems a bit tetchy," Anais crossed her arms but then shot Winn a squinted-eyed glance. "And I just refuse to believe that he gets everything right." Winn returned the favor with his own narrowed-eyed look, though a few seconds later he was smiling smugly.

"I still can't believe it. And I'm from another planet," Kara laughed.

Barry's head whipped in her direction almost instantly. "What?"

"Oh, yeah. She's an alien," Winn pointed at Kara like Barry already was unable to see her. "And so is Anais."

"Thank you for that disclosure, Winn," Anais pursed her lips together and was subjected to a crazed look from Barry too.

"So, do you have, like, other aliens on this Earth?" Barry knew that would be tricky to wrap his head around. Metahumans, easy. But aliens? That was something else...considering both Kara and Anais looked completely human.

"What do you mean by 'this Earth'?" James asked.

"Uh... Ah, hold on," Barry looked around and found a white board with one marker below. He uncapped said marker and began to draw normal circles on the board. "All right, so, imagine there are multiple versions of Earth. Um, one where the Nazis won World War II. One where Kennedy was never assassinated…" he gestured to each circle meant to represent each different scenario.

"Ooo!" Winn once more pointed excitedly. "Oh, yeah. One where all of us are evil!"

Barry turned back, completely scowling. "Been there. Girlfriend was evil, best friends were evil so...it sucks."

"That cannot be fun," Winn scrunched his face.

"You have a girlfriend?" Anais asked with eyebrows raised together like she was suspicious.

Barry wasn't sure what her problem was but he wasn't going to spend time dwelling on it. He continued on with his explanation. "So all of these Earths occupy the same place in space, but they vibrate at a different frequency so they can't see one another.

"So, theoretically speaking, or not so in your case," Anais gestured to him, "If someone were to go...impossibly fast...it's possible to open, like, a breach, and then travel between worlds?"

"Yes."

"Interesting…" Anais pondered on the concept on her own. She'd have to try that in her training sessions. Though she was sure if she traveled through worlds without permission, her parents would kill her. "I'm a speedster too but none of my people - as far as I know since I didn't grow up on my home planet - have ever done that."

"There's alien speedsters too...cool," Barry felt like his head would be spinning soon if they kept dropping more alien facts about themselves.

"What about you, though? You're human," Anais leaned forwards with curiosity, "How did you get your powers? You weren't born with them, right?"

"Um, so, I was struck by lightning the same night a particle accelerator exploded. And I became a superhero," Barry explained and suddenly Anais laughed. Had he said something funny?

She stopped laughing when she noticed his serious face. "Oh, you were serious?"

"Kind of, yeah..."

"Sorry, aren't humans supposed to die if they get struck by lightning?" Anais looked to the others for some help.

"Livewire didn't do that," Winn reminded but Anais had no idea who that was.

"Yeah, but that was different," Kara acted as an intermediate for that," James' explanation didn't help her either.

"Let's just call it a miracle," Barry said before they entered some sort of argument.

"Still weird…" Anais tilted her head at him. "And so, you can just...pop back and forth between universes?"

"Uh, no actually. This happened by accident," Barry released a breath, still confused on how the hell he managed to do that. "I have traveled through time before by accident. I've never jumped parallel dimensions without meaning to. So until I can figure this out, I'm stuck here."

"Well, don't worry. Don't worry at all because we're gonna help you," Kara backtracked to her friends, everyone onboard save a weary James.

"First things first, food. I have to consume about 10,000 calories a day…" Barry began but Anais finished for him.

"Because you burn through your calories incredibly fast, right?"

"Yes…"

"Mhm," Anais smiled her first genuine smile. Now like that, she seemed like a friendly person. "Believe me, Kara and I know places. Well, I know them because Kara knows them. I just moved here."

Kara hummed as ideas started invading her mind. "Mr. Sherbets?"

Anais quickly agreed. "Mr. Sherbets."

Barry looked between them, frankly their 'idea faces' scared him a bit. "What's a Mr—"

"Do you like donuts?" Kara asked.

"Who doesn't like donuts?"

"That settles it!" Anais beamed. "James, I'm taking a personal day!"

"Wait, what—" James didn't get to finish because the woman had already led Barry and Kara out.

~0~

Kara was heading for her desk to pick up her purse when Cat noticed her from her office.

"Ker-rah, you're alive," Cat called from her desk, merely raising her stark blue eyes from her laptop.

Kara had forgotten that everyone in the office had seen her crash through glass because of Siobhan. She hurried into Cat's office to explain. "Ms. Grant, don't worry, I was rescued…"

Anais, Barry, Winn and James followed Kara in just to back her up in case Cat asked too many questions.

"Stop stating the obvious. You're in the middle of breaking news and I want you to act like it," Cat spoke with a sharpness usual to her. "And yes, yes, another one of my ex-employees went all revengey. But... there's a new superhero in National City." She turned over her laptop to reveal a perfectly clear picture of a red blur going down a street. "Miss Allen, you are proving to be quite gifted." Cat was truly dazzled with the work Anais had given her so far.

Kara shot Anais a look but Anais innocently smiled back. There was no way in hell she was going to be fired anytime soon with these pictures.

Barry was staring at Anais in confusion. "Wait, your name…"

"This is huge!" Cat went on with her story. "I thought it would be Golden Girl but the color scheme is off. So it has to be direct competition for Golden Girl and Supergirl" she waved a hand in the air, practically seeing the headlines now.

Though no picture of Golden Girl was present, the city deduced she was a speedster of some sort. And by the city, it was really Cat who was giving out all the answers.

"He doesn't have to be because he's probably not," Anais chimed in. "He's not as fast...trust me."

"Um," Barry tilted his head in her way, offended. "I would think he is."

Anais remained with that innocent, yet tighter, smile. "I would think he's not. But I'm sure they're open to having a sidekick?"

Kara kept looking between the two since she was in the middle of them. Her mouth opened several times to make an interjection and hopefully stop them from actually arguing, however Barry reached his limit before she could so.

"Why a sidekick!?" Barry erupted into a streak of alternatives so that they could both come out looking good in the eyes of this city. Why not an ally? Even a new partner, maybe!?" Cat loudly cleared her throat, making him stop. Her gaze was far too intense for him. "Speaking was the wrong choice, I see that now…"

Cat's eyebrow raised but it was still hard for him to decide what she was. Angry? Upset?

"All five of you standing there doing nothing, you look like the attractive yet non-threatening, racially diverse cast of a CW show," Cat then directed her gaze specifically on Barry. "Who are you?"

"Uh, he's my cousin," Anais quickly supplied and had the support of her friends. "Barry Allen. He's just visiting…"

"Mm," Cat gave the matter no importance. She snapped her fingers specifically at Anais and James. "I'm going to need a better image for this speedster. Preferably one that shows the face. Or is that also un-doable?" her eyes landed on Anais and James since she was still waiting for that picture of her Golden Girl.

"Consider it done," Anais said without a second doubt. James shook his head.

"Couple that with an exclusive on Golden Girl."

Anais faltered. "Consider...almost...done…"

"And Ker-rah, there are a lot of people who wanna know what happened. Speak to no one. You're mine. I will let you know when you should reveal this exclusive information," Cat turned her laptop to continue working. "Now, I have to name this hero. I was thinking about 'The Whoosh' or 'The Red Streak' or 'The Blur.'"

How Barry missed his friend Cisco at the moment. Cat didn't possess his ability to give good names. "What about The Flash?" he decided to help her. "I'm just saying, I think that's a pretty cool superhero name. Right?"

Cat looked to the side and tested the name out. "The Flash? Sounds like someone whose only superpower is jumping out of an alley in a trench coat." Anais and Kara covered their mouths to hide their laughs while Barry resisted the urge to snap back. "No, I want mystery, I want intrigue, I want the Blur. Boys, be gone. Girl-" she pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kara, "-stay."

"I'm getting donuts for tonight," Anais warned Kara as they left her in the office. "And cookies, and brownies - oh, and cupcakes!"

"Anais, what about that picture Cat wants?" James stopped her on her way to her desk just outside his office. "And you still have that crime scene I told you to check out."

"Um, well," Anais turned around fast that Barry bumped into her, "if Barry's willing then I can snap that easy-peasy no problem."

"Ah, I, uh...I guess?" Barry couldn't find a problem with that. He hoped to be out of the city (and the world) before people actually got to recognizing him.

"There we go!" Anais clapped and glanced at James again. "I should get the hospital thing done in five minutes tops too."

"You just started working here, you can't take personal time," Winn had to point out but then he got to thinking himself and entered a state of doubt. "...can we?"

"Not unless you want Cat to go after you," James' warning was enough to make Winn backtrack for his desk. "Anais," his more stern look made the blonde in question shift. There was something else she wasn't telling him, but he doubted she would spill in the middle of the office.

"Please James, can I just go already?" she asked quieter. "I'll get the pictures, trust me."

In the end, James gave a small nod. He warned her to be careful, and that made Barry wonder if he should take offence or not. As if he could hurt a super-strong alien, or anyone else for that matter.

~0~

Anais kept her word to take Barry to 'Mr. Sherbet's' that afternoon. As soon as she snapped the pictures James wanted from the crime scene, she led Barry into the cafe shop. Though she was still new to the city, the cafe shop had become her daily stop for snacks. The employees were already getting to know her.

She just got an unforeseen call on the way that she couldn't let pass. "Yeah, Mom, no it wasn't me. You read right. But I'll tell you more about it later. Talk to you later," Anais sheepishly hung up and put her phone away. "Sorry, my parents saw the picture Cat already published and they thought it was me."

"She already got that posted?" Barry got to wondering who was the real speedster, them or Cat Grant.

"Oh yeah," Anais took a seat at the counter and waved a hand to get the attention of an employee. "She's fast like that when it comes to superhero claimage."

"So she's done it to you, then?"

"Eh…" Anais swayed her head, "I haven't really let her. It's not quite up to me yet to reveal myself to the city. It's up to the government and I guess my parents…"

"O-okay," Barry wasn't sure how to respond to that, even if he did understand exactly what it meant. He chalked it off as alien related, which then prompted him to ask, "So, wait, when you said your parents, you meant…"

Anais caught on to what he meant and chuckled. "Adoptive parents. They adopted me when I was really young."

Unknowingly, she got Barry to sympathize with her in that one second. "What happened?" he found himself asking before he could think it through. He regretted it when she answered.

"She, um, was murdered...by some humans…"

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

Anais' warm smile only made him feel somewhat less guilty. He knew exactly what it felt like when people asked him what happened to his parents and now here he was doing the same to this girl.

"It's fine, Barry, really," she promised him. Since no employees had come by despite her initial gesture, she called to one of the men instead. "Miles? Can I get a dozen cupcakes? I honestly don't care what flavor they are. Oh, and donuts. Kara's basically gonna kill me if I don't come back with new donuts."

"You ate them already?" Miles blinked. "But she bought those last night. Between you and Kara you'll run us out of our stock!"

"Can you just...?" Anais felt her face warm up with embarrassment. The fact he had said that not so quietly made it worse for her. It didn't help when Miles said something more.

"I gotta give you bravery points for being so open about your big appetite on a date," his glance at Barry sent the two speedsters into stammering states.

"We are not on a date!" Anais practically shouted. "No thank you!"

"Yeah, I have a girlfriend!" Barry added on, loud and clear.

"Honestly, Miles, I'm calling the manager!"

Miles laughed but did ultimately apologize for his assumption and promised them some sweet cinnamon rolls on the house.

Anais shook her head. "Sorry about that," she said after Miles left. "Does your world also have the, uh, 'women and men can't be just friends' thing too?"

"Yeah, unfortunately," Barry nodded. "Hey, about your name...you're not like related to me, right? Not a secret wife or anything? No offence, I mean, you're pretty and, yeah, but, I-I just…" he was stuttering and rambling now. "I have a girlfriend."

"I'm not," Anais reassured. "Total coincidence. And yeah, I get that you have a girlfriend. By now I'm sure the entire shop knows that."

"Sorry," Barry flushed and cleared his throat. "I just...wanted to make that clear...for everyone."

"Mission accomplished," Anais rested her elbows on the counter then put her chin over her palms. "It's not easy being in a world different to your own, huh?"

Barry knew where she was coming from and sheepishly nodded his head. "Yeah. I-I still don't understand how it happened. I mean, I was just running and then-then…" he stopped talking when he noticed Anais' sudden movement out of her chair. Her head snapped to the entrance doors. "Are you alright?"

"He's doing it again," she whispered.

"Doing…" Barry checked the entrance but there was nothing significant about then. "Who's doing—"

Anais ran off, leaving him to call and chase after her (much like Winn had two days ago). She had stopped at the end of the street, but her eyes were scanning the streets, ears keenly tuned in to anything suspicious.

"What's going on?" Barry caught up with her and wondered if there was some sort of attack he wasn't seeing at the moment.

"I-I'm sorry, you should go back into the cafe shop," she said distractedly, taking a step forwards.

"Why? What's happening?"

Anais spotted the same figure running away from her, only this time the man started running. Before she took a step forwards, the man sped past her and Barry, causing a familiar force of wind to push them back. Barry barely had time to process there was another speedster with them when Anais took after this new speedster with her own speed.

"Maybe I haven't left Central City," Barry rubbed the back of his neck as he stared after the two speedsters. With nothing much but to help Anais in whatever he could, he raced after them.

Anais was in tuned to catching this man who, for some reason, thought she was his personal plaything. She could feel his presence in her mind in that form of a tickle. The whispers were faint despite her close to him. She was just behind him and yet nothing about his back seemed special. He was just another civilian by appearance.

The man went up a building, and despite Anais never truly learning how to do that in her time of training, she didn't hesitate to follow. Midway, however, she felt her balance going off. Before she knew it, she lost her way and plummeted down. Thankfully Barry had been right behind her and was able to catch her and continue with the way up to the rooftop.

"Are you alright?" he set her down on her feet but despite their impromptu chase, her gaze was still searching for that mysterious man.

"Yeah, I'm—OW!" she felt an immense pain jab at her head. She fell to her knees, hands clutching her head with her eyes shut.

Barry wasn't sure what was going on but he assumed it was that man making her feel that pain. He looked up and saw the man in the air, but the sun's rays were shadowing the man's appearance.

"He's in-in m-my head!" Anais cried, shaking her head as if it would shake off the pain.

Barry glared at the man and decided to use his own Earth 1 tricks. He raced in a circle, charging up until he could produce enough electricity for lightning. Anais' eyes widened as Barry kept going in circles. The pain in her head had gradually subsided but she knew it was just because the man up in the air was probably coming up with something worse to hit her with.

Barry finally stopped when he had enough power and threw a lightning bolt at the man. He was mighty satisfied when it knocked the man backwards, electrifying him while he spun in the air.

"Oh my God..." Anais' voice made him turn around to see her slowly standing up. Her blonde hair was all over her face but she'd perfectly seen what he'd done. "How...how did you do that!?"

"Uuh..." Barry flushed at her awed face. "I...somebody taught me. Has no one taught you that?"

Anais shook her head fast. "No! I've only just started actually training! But nobody..." A laugh momentarily took her over as she hurried up to him with her gaze in the sky where the man used to be, "Nobody's taught me how to do that!"

"Well, if you'd like," Barry started, intending on offering himself as a brief teacher when suddenly she shot into the air. "Aaaand she can fly...cool..." She's an alien, flying is probably part of the package deal or something, he thought to himself.

Anais didn't waste a second and delivered a second attack at the man. Golden energy swirled around her hands and put together created a mass streak of energy that shot forwards. The man was hit again but when Anais fired heat vision from her eyes, the man did the same.

It was a struggle since it seemed like the two were matched in the heat vision department. Suddenly, the man ducked down, leaving Anais to fall forwards in the air. In that second-span, the man fired a jet of orange energy that threw Anais down to the rooftop. Even if Barry wanted to catch her, the fall had been too fast to process. Anais fell with a harsh thud. The ground cracked with her force.

The man watched her for a second from the air then flew away.

"Anais!" Barry quickly went to Anais' side and hoped she came with a fast healing ability too because that kind of fall would require immense medical attention. Anais landed on her side and despite the bits of cement stuck on her clothes and face, she seemed fine, if not a little groggy.

"I really hate that guy," she swallowed hard then made a face as she tasted cement on her tongue.

"Who was he?" Barry helped her stand up.

"...I have no frikin idea," she glared at the sky, the man no longer being in sight.

~ 0 ~

When Kara called Anais to notify her presence, as well as Barry's, were needed at the DEO, Anais knew there was something new that was wrong in the city. It didn't take much to convince Barry to help them - it was apparently one of his jobs anyways.

The D.E.O. turned out to be even better than STAR Labs. The moment Barry got there he sped all around the rooms he could just to check them out then finally stopped in the main control room to bask in it. "Yo, this place is amazing, all right?" he laughed, still too excited to calm down. Anais, Kara (as Supergirl) and Winn laughed at him.

"Wow, so...you're a dork too," Anais concluded with a shake of her head.

Barry stopped laughing momentarily to point and say, "You know, I get the feeling you and my girlfriend Belén would get along really well."

Anais smirked.

"Okay," Kara raised her hands to get their attention. "So here's the situation. There's a villain I foguht a while ago named Livewire. She escaped from our custody with the help of Siobhan—"

"The banshee that threw Kara out of CatCo.," Anais said for Barry's benefit. She then shot Winn an apologetic glance. He was taking Siobhan's new evil route a little hard.

"Yes," Kara continued on, "And now they're probably both about to have a vendetta against me and Cat. We're going to need a lot of help."

"Which is why I brought Barry over of course," Anais shrugged.

"And, actually, you said this place could help get me home," Barry pointed out and received a big, innocent smile in return.

"Yes, and while we put these two crazies back I can have my godparents look into it, yeah? They're scientists and they really know their stuff about molecular force and all that crap involving speed."

"Supergirl?" a petite, dark-haired woman in black, emerged from the side and was flanked by several employees. Lucy Lane looked far different when she was in DEO uniform. "Anais? Who is this masked man? Alien?"

"Metahuman," Barry waved a hand, a bit nervous of all the 'guards' probably just waiting orders to take aim on him.

"Well, we have protocol for visitors at the DEO, Supergirl," Lucy said, still waiting for an explanation.

"Lucy, it's fine," Kara turned around, making a gesture for the guards to leave them. "He's here to help us find that Livewire woman."

Lucy turned her gaze into an even more authoritative one. "You were supposed to be in two hours ago for your training."

Anais opened her mouth as if to give a proper explanation for her tardiness, but at the end she closed it and smiled. "I was busy."

"I'll remember that next time you press to go out there," Lucy retorted with the same smile. She then looked over her to Barry. "I'm allowing it because we do need all the help we can get. So what do I call you? Speedy?"

Barry pulled his hood off and waved once more. "Barry Allen."

"Lucy Lane. I hope you're bringing more to the table than just quick reflexes."

"As it just so happens, catching criminals is both my night and day job," Barry smiled to himself but quickly added, for reference, "I'm a CSI," for everyone's benefit. "By the way, do you guys have a crime lab here?"

"Yeah. My sister's lab's right over there," Kara nodded and started leading the way.

"Wait, you have a sister?" Barry's voice did a high pitch much like a child would. "Where is she at?"

"I wish I knew," Kara admitted with a small sigh.

~ 0 ~

After getting introduced to the D.E.O's system, Barry got to work on helping Kara find her missing enemy. It turned out Winn was definitely Barry's friend, Cisco Ramon's, counterpart in this new world. God help him if the two men ever met each other.

"Guys," Anais' voice drew Barry, Kara and Winn in. She had just walked in with Lucy and James, the former looking very expectant.

Barry knew that look all too well and decided to present what they had so far. "So I wrote an algorithm to monitor variations in meter usage around the city, and it all leads to that warehouse," he pointed to the blinking dot on the screen behind him. "I see bad guys love their abandoned warehouses on your Earth, too, huh?"

"Isn't that kind of like, universal, for villains?" asked Anais with a faint trace of amusement. Barry nodded, smiling to himself.

"I'll authorize a drop team," Lucy turned to leave but Kara stopped her.

"No. No, no! She's too dangerous!" she stopped and motioned to Barry. "Let's go."

"What? Just like that?" frowned Anais. "You're not meant—"

"Barry!" Kara's voice went over Anais and anyone else who would speak up.

The speedster quickly got up from his chair and got ready to listen. "So, what's the plan?"

Kara had a plan alright. "Catch the bad girl, bring her back here so she can't hurt anyone. 85% chance of punching."

"Okay, that I get," Barry nodded. "But like, what's the plan? Maybe we can overload her somehow."

"Yeah," Winn remembered the last time they fought Livewire, "What about the Industrial Capacitor you were gonna trap her in last time?"

Kara quickly shot the idea down. "No, no. It went busto."

"Well, Dynamic Duo will build you a new one," Anais shrugged and clapped Winn on the shoulder, the man agreeing fairly fast.

Kara still disagreed. "No. If we wait, we lose her. If we lose her, God knows what kind of damage she could do, or who she could hurt! I defeated her once before. I can do it again. With your help…" she turned to Barry with hopeful looks.

"Kara…" Anais stepped forwards but the blonde Kryptonian suddenly pointed a warning finger at her to stay put.

"You're staying here!"

"But—"

"Barry, let's go!" Kara marched right out, leaving Anais with the words in her mouth. Barry awkwardly, and confusedly, followed after Kara.

"Lucy…" Anais turned to the woman in question pleadingly. "I can—"

But Lucy stopped her with a hand in front of Anais's face. "No, you're still in training." And with that, Lucy left her.

From the main control room, they monitored Kara's location and, therefore, Barry's. As it turned out, Livewire had chosen an old warehouse just across the city. And because it was abandoned, there were no security cameras to hack into to better monitor.

"What about the streets?" Anais planted herself on the chair next to Winn. "Can we see better from the streets?"

"Um…" Winn began to try and hack into the nearby camera streets but by that time, Livewire had already introduced her newest partner: Silver Banshee.

"Winn!" Anais went like it was his fault. "That's your psycho girlfriend!"

"It's not like I told her to become...weird...like that…" Winn couldn't even acknowledge the fact his girlfriend, or rather ex-girlfriend now, Siobhan, had turned evil.

"Banshees are evil in mythology," Anais reminded.

"Whatever she is, she needs to be taken in," Lucy's voice drew the two back to business.

It took about one second for the fight to actually begin, and unfortunately it was not going good for their side. Because Kara was unprepared, there was no strategy to use and Barry was out of his element. He had yet to meet a meta with a killer cry and simply didn't know this 'Livewire' could recharge herself with his powers like a battery. He could really use his own team right about now…

"They're getting creamed out there," Winn mumbled and looked to the side only to find Anais staring with wide eyes. Her face was panicked, unusually so, and so suddenly she was gone. "What? Where—"

Lucy had felt the small whip of wind and immediately knew what happened. "Anais!"

Out in the abandoned warehouse, Barry had just been thrown over a wooden box that crumbled with him. That one hurt. Silver Banshee's scream smacked Supergirl against the opposite wall. As the two were getting back, hopefully, on their feet, Livewire began a crazed hum between her lips. Lightning crackled around her hands as she made a round in the middle.

"Which one should I get first…?" she pretended to think about even though she was already turning in Supergirl's direction. But above came a crash and suddenly Livewire was slammed straight first against the ground.

Siobhan, who now went by Silver Banshee, went to use her sonic scream but Anais drew an arm and released a bright blast of golden beam directly at her. Supergirl had finally gotten back on her feet and was awed yet worried for her friend who seemed a bit...out of it. Anais had an odd determination on her face that seemed to want to protect. Funny, she had only worked with Anais for a short while now and had never seen that face.

Livewire rolled on her back and attacked by surprise with a thunder blow that threw Anais away. There was a loud crash as the blonde hit the wall and fell over an already crumbling shelf.

"No!" Supergirl flew over to make sure Anais was fine and gave the perfect escape for Livewire and Silver Banshee.

~ 0 ~

Barry never knew he would meet someone who could outmatch his adoptive father in the 'parenty scolding lecture' thing until he saw Lucy Lane going at it with Anais. After returning to the D.E.O with Anais, the blonde woman was taken to the medbay and subjected to various tests and observations. It reminded Barry of his early days at STAR Labs where basically everything he did was recorded and observed.

"Hey," Kara met with Barry just outside the medbay. "How are you doing?"

"Well, aside from my eardrums ringing like church bells, I'm okay," Barry gave a light shrug of his shoulders. The injuries he'd gotten from hitting the walls and the furniture vanished by the time they returned.

Kara apologetically smiled at him. "I'm sorry I made you rush in on Livewire without a plan. I didn't know she was gonna have a cohort."

"That's the thing about being a superhero. You have to somehow be prepared for the unexpected," Barry said, and couldn't count the many times he had definitely not been prepared for something out in the field.

"Something happened to me a few weeks ago. I was exposed to this substance that made me crazy. I did a lot of horrible things. And when I was helping people as Supergirl, I was... I was so happy. And now that the people don't want me to help them, I feel lost. And I'm in such a hurry to prove myself again, I'm making stupid mistakes. Like today."

"This is gonna sound ironic coming from me but, um, you need to slow down. Just keep doing your good work," Barry advised with a true heart honesty." Don't worry about the rest. The public will forgive you, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cause the same thing happened to me."

Kara blinked. "Really? So what finally fixed things?"

"Time. When you're used to fixing things with brute strength, or in my case, amazing speed, it's hard to accept that there are things out of our control."

Kara took a breath and nodded, hoping the words would stick by her for the next time she felt bad. With the silence between her and Barry, the increasing voices from the medbay started to carry over.

"We must inform them, Miss Lane," one of the examiners was saying while Anais, seemingly more panicked than ever, shouted 'no!'.

Lucy nodded her head, calm despite the mood over them. "Yes, I understand."

"No!" Anais jumped off the bed when the examiners began to leave with Lucy. "You can't do that!"

"I'm sorry Anais, it's out of my hands—" Lucy stumbled back when Anais sped around the room to snatch every clipboard holding her information. "Anais."

"You can't tell them," Anais insisted. "Th-they won't let me work with Supergirl if they know I went out before—"

"You were ready?" Lucy finished for her. "Well, you should have thought of that before you went out. I'm sorry." She gave the nod for the examiners to take back the clipboards and finally leave.

Anais rubbed her face when her arms became empty and stomped back to the bed.

"Anais, what's wrong?" Kara walked in with Barry behind her. "The yelling…?"

"She clearly got told she shouldn't have gone out," Barry said. "I know that. Went through it...still do…"

Anais gave him a small, sideways smile. "Yeah...you would…" Barry, in return, gave a questioning look at the way she had said...like she knew him.

Kara, on the other hand, didn't notice. All she knew was that her friend was in distress. "Anais, you shouldn't have gone out like that…"

"I know!" Anais threw her arms in the air. "And now that I have, my parents are going to be informed about it and...knowing my Dad, he's going to overreact and bring me back home."

"What's the problem if you went out?" asked Barry.

"I'm not technically supposed to go out until I finish training," Anais explained. "It's part of my contract with this place...with the government…"

"Why'd you go then if you knew you could get into this big of a trouble?"

"Because you were in trouble," Anais said, shrugging her shoulders. "You...guys...were hurt, and I had to help."

"This is my fault," Kara sighed and shook her head.

"It's not, I made the decision," Anais promised her and glanced at Barry. "And if I had to do it again I would. No doubt."

"You're such a good friend," Kara reached out and hugged her.

"Yeah I am," Anais smiled in agreement. She smiled specifically at Barry for a second before Winn came in.

"Are you alright?" he'd been barred from talking to her due to the fact she was rushed directly into the medbay. "I looked away for like a second and—"

"I'm sorry," Anais plopped down on the side of the medbed. "I just can't get anything right today."

Both Kara and Winn exchanged confused glances. Of course they still didn't know what Anais went through earlier. Barry cleared his throat behind them, gaining their attention, though he was looking straight at Anais. "You should just tell them." He understood what she was trying to do - keep secrets about the dangerous things that'd happened to her - and he told her before that he'd done the same and it blew up in his face. It was funny, actually, how much Anais reminded Barry of himself when he first started out as the Flash. He felt kind of odd being the teacher now. He definitely felt older.

"Tell us what?" chorused Kara and Winn.

Anais felt her eyes tear up now that she was thinking about both failed attempts to be a hero. "He came back, Kara." Her voice had gone shaky, but it wasn't clear if it was out of fear or weariness. "He made me chase him around the city and then-then he hit me with his powers, and I-I was weak!"

Kara looked back at Barry for some confirmation. Barry gave a silent nod. She hurried to Anais side and set her hands on the woman's shoulders. "Anais, why didn't you say something?"

"I'm confused," Winn raised his index finger in the air. "Say something about what? Who did you chase?"

Anais rubbed some loose tears from her face and sniffed. "Remember that guy I ran after the other day?" he nodded. "He came back today. He's a speedster too and he can fly, he's telepathic, and he his this sort of power like mine…"

"And you went after him on your own!?" Winn exclaimed.

"I wasn't alone," Anais smiled a teary-eyed smile at Barry.

"And you don't have to be alone ever again," Kara reminded her. "Just because you moved here to be independent doesn't mean you have to take things up on your own."

"It's just difficult processing," Anais sniffed again, hoping to calm herself down. "I haven't even exposed myself to the city and I already have an enemy? That's got to be a record."

"Well, you know what, we'll double up on our training," Kara decided then. "If this guy wants to fight then he'll get a fight."

"Yeah, and you know what?" Winn came to Anais' other side on the bed. "Your suit's done," he whispered and proceeded to smile widely. "In case you wanted to take it out for a spin, or…"

Anais laughed as did Kara.

In that moment, watching the trio of friends converse over their course of plan, Barry really missed Belén and their friends. Being a world apart literally hurt his insides. I wonder what Belén is doing right now, he wondered. She'd been waiting to congratulate him at the end of his race and he'd strung himself into another world. His heart ached for his Bells.

#ocappreciation #arrowverseocs #supergirl #the flash #fd: supergirl #supergirl fics #supergirl imagines #winn schott fics #winn schott imagines #oc: Anais Mjorkland #fic: sweet ambitions

[atamascolily]

An Appointment in Sawarra, 8/?

In which Luke discovers it’s all about who you know. But the name that gets him in is probably not the one you’re thinking of.

(previously: one two three four five, six seven)

This time, Luke was escorted to main customs office, instead of relegated to a side room. The head agent with the wildfire mask, still bedecked in full regalia, sat at his desk with ramrod straight posture, staring at a stack of paperwork that Luke assumed was his. Next to the forms was a massive version of the temporary visa they had given him--a more accommodating passport, he hoped.

Unlike the other rooms, this one sported decorations: a flower arrangement in the corner in what appeared to be some sort of altar to a small statue of a cross-legged figure wielding a sword. On the wall behind the desk was an unfurled scroll, with calligraphy in the same kind of unreadable pictographics that Luke had seen on the paperwork.

"You," the head agent gestured, as Lizard-head bustled Luke into the room. "Sit down. Explain yourself."

What was the point of all the paperwork, then? Luke sighed, and settled himself in the proffered chair, as Lizard-head fell back into line with the other customs agents, who were standing off to one side in formation. "I'm Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight," he began wearily. "I'm trying to get a message to Dr. Tor Mendoza at the university in Ri'tarn City--"

"Ri'tarn City?" repeated Wildfire in disbelief. Tittering filled the room as all of the subordinates began whispering among themselves. "A Jedi Knight?"

"Er, yes," Luke said. "You saw my lightsaber, didn't you?"

The whispers grew louder. Wildfire cleared his throat and the entire room fell silent.

"Foreigners have all kinds of strange things," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "<i>That</i> is not what makes a Jedi. What is your lineage?"

"Huh?"

"Your <i>ancestry</i>," Wildfire said. Luke didn't need to see his face to catch the eyeroll that accompanied the words.

How was this even relevant? "Well, my father was Anakin Skywalker--"

Wildfire cut him off with a raised fist, as if he found Luke's density personally offensive. "Your <i>spiritual</i> ancestors. Your teachers."

Oh. Luke tried again. "Ben--Obi-wan Kenobi. <i>General</i> Kenobi," he added as an afterthought, in case that helped. It had always worked with the Rebellion.

Wildfire waved it away, unimpressed. "And <i>his</i> teacher?"

At this rate, he was going to run out of names real fast. "Yoda. Master Yoda."

Whatever Wildfire had been expecting, this wasn't it. He slapped his hand down on the desk, knocking over the seal, which landed with a clatter on the floor. For a second, there was absolute silence, before an agent with a puff-cheeked wind spirit hastily bent to retrieve it.

"Yoda?" Wildfire repeated, as if unable to believe his ears.

Luke had no idea what was happening, but he knew an in when he saw one. "Yes," he said, confidence filling his voice for the first time since this strange conversation began.

"<i>Yoda</i>. I studied under him myself after General Kenobi died," he added, pressing his advantage. It wasn't even a lie.  

Obi-wan Kenobi's name had opened doors for Luke in his early days with the Rebellion, but Yoda's name was usually met by blank stares, to the point where Luke had all but stopped asking about him. Yoda was a mystery. An elusive trickster, a recluse hiding away in the swamp, powerful yet aloof. All but forgotten.

Clearly not <i>here</i>, anyway.

Wildfire nodded soberly, clearly revising his poor opinion of Luke. "I see now," he said at last. "You've come to pay your respects."

<i>Pay my respects to *what?*</i> Luke wanted to ask, but he didn't dare lose his sole piece of leverage by admitting he didn't know what the man was talking about. He nodded.

"Please wait here while I discuss this with my superiors," Wildfire said. He rose from his desk in a single fluid motion and walked out, followed in quick succession by all the other agents except for Lizard-head, who was fidgeting in a manner oddly reminiscent of Threepio.

<i>Guess he got stuck with babysitting the foreigner again,</i> Luke thought with a sigh, and settled in to wait. <i>Why all this fuss to send a simple message, I'll never understand. It's not that complicated</i>.

To his surprise, Wildfire reappeared fifteen minutes later, with his entourage in tow. Four of the agents were burdened with massive piles of paperwork, while the fifth carried an entirely different seal, which he presented to Luke in exchange for the temporary visa.

"So I can send my message now?" Luke asked hopefully, stowing the seal away in his belt pouch with the bag of uneti seeds.

Wildfire's withering contempt had returned in force. "No need. You will be allowed to Ri'tarn City to pay your respects in person."  

There was something Luke clearly wasn't getting, but he wasn't about to look a gift bantha in the mouth--not after so much frustration to get this far. Hadn't Leia said the Sawarrans had allowed diplomats and dignitaries on planet in carefully arranged visits? Maybe visiting Jedi Knights got the same treatment.

<i>But what the hell does Yoda have to do with any of this?</i>  

"Sign at the bottom of every page," said Wildfire. One of the agent unburdened their stack of paperwork by dropping it in Luke's lap along with a holo-stylus and a clipboard, as Luke tried and failed to suppress a groan.

This time, the forms were a complicated liability waiver, saying that Luke understood the risks he was taking by being allowed in Sawarra territory. He tried to pay attention to the details, but there was too much, and none of it made any sense anyway. He got through it zoning out, signing on autopilot, with agents zipping in and out to add or subtract more forms as necessary.

"Great," Luke said when the last form was whisked away at last. "When can I leave?"

"You won't be needing your ship," Wildfire said curtly."Transport to the <i>sekkai</i>"--<i>mother-planet</i>, Luke's translator whispered in his ear--"has been arranged."

Luke's head throbbed. Fine. Whatever. <i>This had better be worth it.</i> "Are there forms for that, too?" he asked sarcastically.

Wildfire nodded, pleased that Luke was finally getting it. "Of course."

#an appointment in sawarra #fanfic excerpt

[ms31x129]

The end is here Chapter 7! I went simple with this DJ Jackson/William was shaped by 2 couples who loved him. That’s at the heart of this incredible story, imho.  @cultureisdarkbeer @monikafilefan @today-in-fic

Chapter 1 - Courage to Jump Tumblr LINK  AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 2: Luck of the Irish Tumblr LINK or AO3 it is HERE.

Chapter 3: Graffiti of the Heart Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 4: Leave Your Demons At The Door Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 5: Truth Is the Pain Inside Our Hearts Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE.

Chapter 6: Final Destination Tumblr LINK or AO3 HERE. 

Chapter 7: Full Circle <<AO3 Link or if you like Tumblr you know the drill clickity-click on the Keep Reading link below. 

{Summary:

Jackson’s journey has come full circle, but what happens before it finally comes to an end?}

“Everything has a way of coming full circle. It takes patience and perseverance to see a dream through… to close that circle. Because some dreams, like some circles, can be much bigger than others.” -Karen Dale Trask

The fresh spring breeze tousled Jackson’s unruly hair. It either frizzed or flopped around his cowlick and left him consistently smoothing it down more often than not. He couldn’t help but wonder who he’d gotten that trait from: Mulder or Dana? Would he call her Dana or Mother or… Mom? Not that. He didn’t think he could ever find it in his heart to call anyone Mom again.

Jackson couldn’t help but think back to the moment he first spoke face to face with his birth mother. After hearing her heartfelt confession in the morgue, the one that made his gut tumble to his toes, he made a silent promise that he would talk to her at some point in the future. He just had no idea that the chance to make good on that promise would present itself so soon after he made it. He had just endured the worst day of his life after witnessing his parents lying lifeless on the floor covered in blood, and then hearing the words of a mother he never thought he’d meet left him reeling. Using Ghouli for selfish reasons had him feeling overwhelming guilt; yet seeing her and Mulder, under the guise of an illusion at that off-the-beaten-path gas station, had softened the ironclad armor he was trying so hard to construct around his heart...

The bell attached to the gas station door chimed and a tall man walked in.

“Can I get $40 on the SUV out there, please?” Jackson could see the attendant in his peripheral ringing the guy up as he popped a sunflower seed in his mouth. He watched the man turn to him and nod up at the TV where the Pirates and Nats were tied in the bottom of the 4th inning.

“You follow baseball?” His voice was low and smooth in a familiar sort of way that flowed over Jackson with ease.

Feeling a wave of goosebumps spike across his arms, he glanced over inside his illusion and directly locked eyes with the man his birth mother had embraced in the morgue: Fox Mulder.

Slowly nodding, Jackson answered, “I’m a Yankee’s fan myself.”

“Me, too!”

“Too bad I’m leaving town. Maybe, we could have caught a game,” Jackson sighed, confused that he actually meant it.

Mulder shrugged and scoffed at the pop fly to the pitcher's mound. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I bet a G-man can get good seats.” He nudged Mulder’s arm and pointed to the exposed badge sticking out of his jacket pocket.

Mulder narrowed his eyes at Jackson, the same ones he saw in the mirror every day. “Good eye.”

He huffed. “Gotta have one nowadays.”

Mulder smirked, nodding in agreement, and a flicker of sadness washed over his face as the screen focused in on a father and son laughing as they cheered on their team. “Years ago, I had the hope of taking my own son to a game.”

A knot began to form in Jackson’s throat. He cleared it and decided to leave a little something for the obvious emotionally worn-down man standing nearly shoulder to shoulder with him. “Well, maybe one day you can. Don’t give up.”

The smell of baked goods caught his attention and the memory of his first encounter with his birth father faded. He ventured over to the small mom-and-pop shop called “Little Virginia’s Bakery and Novelty Shop” with a renewed sense of purpose and food on the brain.

“Perfect!” His empty stomach rumbled in agreement.

For being an out-of-the-way shop, the little place held a few farmers, a family of three, and an elderly couple tucked away in the back. The sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air and Jackson’s mouth watered instantly.

“Hi there!” The silver haired woman stood from her corner table to greet him. “Welcome to Little Virginia’s. Hungry?” Her brown eyes trailed him from head to toe, assessing his dirty, worn jeans, well-loved jacket, and mussed hair. Jackson was sure he would hear a grandmother-like lecture about taking good care of himself; one he knew he’d never heard from one of his own. But, instead, she smiled and nodded to the bakery case. “How about I get you a nice carb-filled breakfast while you take a look around the place? Can’t help but assume you just might like something you see.” She pointed to the baseball on his shirt from his Freshman year travel league team—which he was reluctantly kicked off of for skipping too many practices.

“Uh, sure, okay. Thanks,” he stammered, unsure of what she meant by that yet followed her gaze to the wall behind him. Gasping, he wandered over to the large shelving unit filled with snow globes. “Wow!”

The wall was covered with a wide array of different sized globes. Each one was unique in design and meaning. Just like the collection back in his room that he’d never see again, he thought bitterly. He scanned each shelf from top to bottom, searching for one that called to him. It was something that he and his mom used to do on family vacations when they visited tourist shops.

Jackson slowed his mind and chose not to fight against the happier memory tickling at his brain of his very first snow globe that sparked not only the start of his collection, but his interest in all things cryptid...

“Jackson? There you are! I’ve been looking for you,” his mom chastised, grabbing his arm and kneading it between her fingers. “You wandered off again and left me wondering where my son’s imagination had decided to lead him this time.”

He sighed, hoping he wouldn’t be grounded later because of the strong attraction to what was staring him in the face at the moment. “Sorry, I just saw this and liked it.”

With a ruffle of his thick hair that dipped along his forehead, his mom chucked. “That certainly is an… interesting snow globe.” Jackson shook it and the white, glittery flecks swirled like a storm. “Why this one? It doesn’t seem to fit your space-themed bedroom.”

A grin spread across his chocolate stained mouth. “Oh, it does, Mom. Just like with outer space, there’s mystery behind the existence of Sasquatch. You know, guesses...”

She shook her head. “Theories, you mean,” she corrected, “just like with space. Jackson, you are too smart for your own good, you know that?”

His mom teased yet it was the truth; and he knew it. He knew a lot of things he wished he didn’t. “Yeah, I do.”

“Hey, kid!” A deep voice snapped Jackson’s eyes open and back to the shop. He stared at a man through one of the large glass globes and nearly laughed at the distorted fun house image he saw looking back. “You alright?”

“Yeah, uh yes, I’m fine,” he said, quoting his usual line when anyone asked how he was. “Just checking these out. I used to collect them, actually.” He wasn’t sure why he was sharing personal information with a stranger. He’d never done that before, but the kindness in the man’s eyes reminded him of his dad.

“Used to?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just haven’t added to my old collection in a few years.”

“Well,” the man started as he adjusted his hat, “looks to me like you’re ready to start a new one.” Jackson raised a brow and watched as the man went and sat back down in his chair with a smirk peeking out from his mustache.

As Jackson continued to look through the mass of watery globes, he considered that the old man was right. Starting something new was exactly what he was hoping to accomplish. Just then, a ray of sunlight struck the glass on a small, circular one out of the corner of his eye. It sat on the shelf nestled in a row of sports themed snow globes. The one he felt compelled to touch left him baffled at the significant meaning. If he weren’t fully aware of the pain-free feeling in his skull, he might think the image inside the globe was a snapshot of a future vision.

Holding it up into the light, the tiny people inside painted an exact picture of a life that Jackson thought he was never meant to have.

A man stood on the pitchers mound, arm wound back in an arc, ready to let loose a curveball with the way his fingers were gripped around the seams. The batter was a boy with brown hair who leaned over the plate, wooden bat cocked back and poised in the air. There was a woman sitting on a grassy hill near the boy, strands of her red-gold hair were fisted within a tiny infants grasp cradled in her arms. In that moment, Jackson actually believed that fate was calling.

Over an hour later, Jackson had made it to the desolate Wallis road, his belly full and spirits lifted, but a part of his heart remained heavy. Nature called, so he found a tree among the weeds to relieve himself. As he zipped back up, in the far distance he noticed the roof of the house, and reality punched him square in the solar plexus. Would the DoD pick up his trail? By taking these next steps, did it place them all in danger? Maybe they had moved on and were a happy family without him—complete and worry free.

Maybe, his trek should end where he stood.

His thumb rubbed the glass auricle buried deep in his jacket pocket; the crinkled letter folded next to it worn by years, travel, and his own perspiration poked at the back of his hand. Both of them provided reassurance. Perhaps, another link from the past held an answer along with some courage. There was still one line left to read after all. Carefully, with trembling fingers he unfolded the paper and the heart-wrenching words flowed freely from his lips.

“And in that moment, you will be blessed… and stricken… for the truest truths are what hold us together, or keep us painfully, desperately apart .”

An explosion of images seared through his brain in a rapid fire of painful impulses, like an electrical storm burning across his neurons. He was assaulted by her face, her voice, her scent... It was then that Jackson refocused, the revelation that he had returned to a monumental moment in the past—a crucial turning point, as he began to walk his mother’s path one last time.

March 22, 2002

Her hands shook as she closed the door and entered her dark, silent apartment. She tore her purse, shoes, and jacket off in the entryway and let them fall carelessly to the floor. Her heart beat wildly within her chest as intense anxiety buzzed through her body, like a saw blade humming through flesh. Pushing it away yet again, she stumbled through the dim hallway, stopping abruptly as she came to a cracked open door.

She gasped, taking in the sight of the empty crib. Ignoring the voice in her head that Jackson could hear screaming for her to run—to hide and shut it all away, she allowed her fingertips to dance along the cool wooden bed where her son should lay dreaming. With a trembling chin, she reached in and grabbed his cream blanket, the one her mother had knitted for him when she hadn’t yet known to use pink or blue.

“Mom…” Jesus, her mother will never understand; she might always blame her for searching for answers to obscure questions when her miracle was held within her arms. She slammed her eyes shut as the memory of her mother’s advice played out behind her lids for Jackson to witness…

February 18, 2002

Sliding her arms into her jacket as she prepared to leave, she said, “Mom, it’s important. I wouldn’t go if it weren’t.”

Frustrated, her mother shook her head and clutched baby William tighter against her hip. “Yes, I know, Dana. You say it’s about getting answers.”

Shaking her head, she sighed and her eyes flicked to her son playing with his grandmother’s sweater, blissfully unaware of his role in life. “Answers about William, Mom.”

“I know you’re worried about him—that there are things about him that you just can’t explain. But, even if you were to get those answers, what would it change?”

With emotions flaring, her voice trembled as she tried to explain in the simplest way possible. “Mom, he’s my child.”

Refusing to back down and stay silent, she pleaded with her daughter to listen. “And you have to love him and raise him in spite of everything.” Stepping closer, her mother’s tone softened as her hazel eyes met watery blue. “Dana, God has given you a miracle. A child that wasn’t supposed to be.” Gazing down at her grandson with pride, she offered, “Maybe, it’s not to question—just to be taken as a matter of faith.”

Feeling lost and alone with horrible thoughts swirling of what secrets may be out there regarding her son, she stared at her mother’s worried expression and told her the truth. “Mom, I can’t take this on faith. I need to know,” she explained, soothing William’s soft, fuzzy hair, wishing she could fully trust what her heart was telling her. “I need to know if it’s really God I have to thank...”

Jackson felt his mother stiffen as her own memory melted away. Her eyes snapped open yet the residual turmoil of her mother’s words remained entwined like barbed wire within her chest.

“Oh, Mom...” she whispered and bit her lip until it hurt almost as much as her heart.

She inhaled a deep breath, her knees buckling at the strong baby scent and that’s when she saw it: her own withdrawn, broken reflection in the small mirror hung above the rocking chair. How could she look herself in the mirror ever again and not see someone who had simply given up, who didn’t have the courage to stand by her son and fight to the death to protect him? His father would have if he were here. Yet, she sent him away to keep their son safe, and now she was left with nothing.

Guttural cries finally burst free from her mouth, the awful feeling of guilt and sadness overwhelmed her. Pressing the scent of their baby boy to her face, she screamed into the yarn of the blanket as her emotions warred on. Her mother: a God-fearing woman who forgives as easily as she loves, would never forget what her daughter had done here tonight.

Emptiness echoed in the silence, fatigue pulled at the weariness beneath her lids as her fingers ran along the soft stitching connecting the satin to the plush cotton. Her body felt hollow, like a shell that held nothing but an ocean of tears and shards of glass wedged between her soul and her heart.

It hurt to be in her son’s room where he slept and played and nursed and listened to her terrible singing and… it hurt to breathe. “Oh God, Mulder, please forgive me.”  

A heavy layer of sorrow covered her chest, suffocating her. The reality of her decision surrounded her with every shallow breath she took. “Mulder, I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, fiery tears burning her down the column of her throat. “Our truest truth… our son, he’s held us together and now… and now desperately apart.”

No matter if her choice was right or not, William was their son: a living breathing product of their everlasting love, their miracle… and now he was gone. No matter her constant worry of the safety and origin of the miracle she held within her arms every day—had loved unconditionally the moment she knew he existed; she had willingly given away a part of her and Mulder’s love. A love so strong that it conquered the impossible and produced a wondrous gift. In that very moment, she knew she would carry this heaviness in her heart until the day she died. And Jackson felt her terrible thought that just maybe, she deserved to.

He felt his mother slipping away from his grasp as she road the roaring tide of her emotions. She and her gut-wrenching sobs were fading, drifting off into darkness where he knew she would rebuild her fortress of stoicism in order to survive, dimming the remaining light in her life as the vision did the same for him.

Time stretched like a rubber band connecting the past to the present. Jackson separated achingly slow from his mother’s grief with images fading into the back of his mind as his own anguish took hold.

“Ah, dammit!” The sheer agony that had coursed through her veins was enough for Jackson to still taste the metallic remnants of blood from her gnawed bottom lip within his own mouth. The upheaval of emotional static was in his head, shredding it from the inside—the side effects of constant fears and self-doubt. The selfless suffering felt from an unconditional love took away a piece of him as it took from her, unraveling the purity in his soul.

He felt his chin tremble uncontrollably, like it did when he was nine and was teased on the playground for being “weird.” He felt it: the last remaining bricks of the wall that stood to protect and uphold his heart crumbled, leaving him bare and exposed. The flashback sucked the breath from his chest and he folded, collapsing into himself and driving him to his knees.

Squinting up at the sun with a sheen of sweat across his brow, he clenched his fists, blanching his knuckles as nails dug deeply into the palms of his hands. Slamming them to the ground, Jackson screamed. The sound piercing the early afternoon sky like an air raid siren, unleashing the remaining demons from the scars that had refused to heal. The agony left his lungs with the strength of a gale force wind, begging the sun for its rays of light to soothe away the darkness. The torment felt as though it ripped his muscles, bones, and flesh to shreds. His dark lashes brimmed heavy with tears and the dam burst when his emotions surged against it. Crystal beads streamed from his deep blue eyes as heaving sobs tore at his throat and wracked his chest—the weight of his grief pressing him into the ground where he knelt.

Within the last year, he had cried all of three times: the night of his parent’s death, once out of sheer loneliness, and now from the effects of this letter. These words from his mother had saved him from the monster, the one indifferent to suffering and sorrow, and got him to feel.

Jackson dug into the dirt with the balls of his feet and pushed off, taking mighty strides as he sprinted before even aware of the conscious decision. His bag bounced along his shoulders, his long dark colored locks whipping back and forth behind him as he leapt large rocks and dodged roots. Charged with adrenaline surging through his veins, he had to keep running forward; nothing would stop him now. As quick as his long legs could carry him, his shoes hammered the hard earth that mimicked the pounding in his chest. The smell of bark and pine invaded his nostrils, his burning lungs begging for air, but Jackson embraced the pain. His shirt clung to his form, damp with sweat and tears and he ran, feeling her presence like he could feel her mind. He finally let down the mental barrier he had held up against reaching out and into her mind, liberating him.

All the signs, all the things leading him to reach this very path was fate; it had intervened and he knew now—felt it now… William needed to come home.

Now, the boy who had always felt split in two was whole. Now, he was finally fine . He was free.

By the time he reached the gated driveway to the property, the pain had dissipated as hope and truth dominated. One hand rested on the cold iron; his limbs on fire as he panted, trying to catch his breath. The well-worn house stood taller now—a simple A-frame with a couple dormers and extended front porch. The fence surrounding the property consisted of many shades of weathered wood, time and sunlight painting it several grayish and brownish hues. Beyond its confines stood a patchwork quilt of several grasses and wildflowers, sewn together by a dusty road. For a glimmer of a moment, he envisioned a little sister running through the rolling grass, chasing a dog to hug and cuddle, the puppy stealing licks while they laughed in amusement and drank tea on the front porch.

Jackson pulled open the heavy gate and stepped onto the familiar ground his feet had yet to tread. A deep breath calmed his rising nerves, as did walking through the tall wheat grass swaying in the open breeze. It all reminded him of his childhood farm and working the fields with his dad.

The land here grew wilder than his dad would allow, although so did he and, he suspected, so did the pair that occupied that house. He continued on, the rhododendrons now in full bloom overpowered the nearby flowers. They greeted his senses and he became more engrossed, living in the moment like he had never experienced before. This was real. His futuristic visions foreshadowed death and hellfire, reeking of ash and rot. But here, only birds sang and thick, green foliage swayed with the breeze, covering the sound of distant traffic.

For so long his thoughts never stopped spinning, visions of pasts and futures, the constant questioning of himself was nothing but a furnace of pain hidden beneath a forced smile and occasional happiness. All of that stood silent now. For the first time in his life there were no thoughts, only instincts. Ones that he trusted. So he continued walking along the gravely dirt driveway, up the worn steps to stand at their faithful door.

Somehow it all made sense, that the flashback visions would take him back to where this all began, bringing him full circle to find the truth; taking him back to the night where his old life had ended and was given a new one. The night William M. Scully became Jackson Van de Kamp. He was both Jackson and William, he realized: Chimera born—one boy with two sets of parents who loved him. One remarkable teen with a remarkable past standing on the porch of an unremarkable house, hoping to share a future with those who sacrificed everything for him.

Jackson had navigated his way through his birth mother’s past and his own—effectively finding himself during a time when he was truly lost. And, now, the son of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully would finally cross their threshold as his whole self, an open book written in a language only they could fully understand.

A flutter of nervousness began to churn in his gut. He shut his eyes, inhaling a deep breath and counted to ten, recalling what his dad had told him to do when he felt this way. Those familiar words of wisdom embraced him, giving him the push he needed to let loose three confident knocks to the squeaky screen door. Footfalls and muffled voices could be heard through the oak door and his heart pounded through his shirt.

A smile pulled at Jackson’s lips when he realized that he was standing inches from the proverbial edge of what was his leap of faith for a new beginning, completely unafraid and committed to jump.

#xf fanfic #xffanfic #the xfiles #xfiles fanfic #msr fanfic #msrfanfic #xf chimera #xf season 11 #The X-Files #the xf fanfic #the x files fanfiction

[hipsofsteel]

bro you gotta tell me more about chris

Gladly! The dad man is important to me. And so, we meet…

Christopher “Chris” Lewis Joseph, personification of Eastern Oregon/Nyo!Oregon

Credit to crikadelic, who will not be tagged in this post for reasons.

Physical Description

At 5′10, with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a slightly olive skin tone, Chris is a very good looking man. He’s got well trimmed facial hair that can be a bit scruffy and thin, but he maintains it well. He’s well muscled from his work as a cattle rancher, and general farmwork. He is half Nez Perce (Nimiipuu) and half English, born in the area of present day Joseph, Oregon in 1806, and celebrates his birthday on February 14th.

Chris’s face claim is model Julian Schratter. He has no voice claims at the moment.

Personality

Christopher and Beverly were cut from the same cloth in some respects. Controlling either of them is nearly impossible. He’s a force of nature when he wants to be, stubborn and insistent and nearly impossible to be forced to do something he refuses to do. He’s as free-spirited and wild as he wants to be.

At the same time, he shows a remarkable degree of caution and thoughtful behavior that his twin sister tends to lack. If not caught in an urgent situation or in his own whirlwind of passions, he approaches things with well-thought out responses and is a calm and collected and highly intelligent man. He’s a great person to go to for advice.

He’s also very attached to those he forms close relationships with, either as family or friends. He’ll always have his twin sister’s back, and anyone who finds themselves in the position of being “adopted” as his child has just gained an ally and parental figure who will love them and defend them endlessly. Although, dispute it as he does, he does have a favorite child (Adam).

Sexuality and Gender

Behold, the one and only heterosexual cisgender OC I’ve made for my States. Chris is an incredible ally however, who openly supports all his friends and family.

Also, his type of women is as follows, so I promise you can trust him.

And he means it.

Religion

Chris has a personally styled fusion between Christianity and the indigenous religions he was raised around on the Columbian Plateau. He is not really big on explaining his faith as it’s a deeply personal and conflicting matter even for himself, so I don’t have much more to say than that for him. However, one of his two most irreplaceable objects he owns is a copy of Henry Harmon Spalding’s translation of the Book of Matthew into Nez Perce. Take from that what you will.

Employment

Chris has previously made his living as a farmer and for a brief while as a blacksmith, but nowadays, he owns a cattle range and is a full-time rancher, with a large range area in Central/Eastern Oregon. He also raises horses on the side, both as a secondary income and to continue traditions of horse breeding he was raised in with the Nez Perce.

Pets

I’ll try to keep this brief, but Chris has seven animals he considers close pets/his long lifespan has affected theirs, so I’ll divide it into sections.

Dogs

Zip and Lucky

Zip is Chris’s working dog, a purebred blue heeler who knows how to move a cow herd as well as he knows that when Chris puts on dark and clean pants, he’s leaving the house for meetings (sadness) and when he puts on less nice “farm” pants, they’re working stock that day (happiness!)

Lucky is based on Rincon, the dog owned by Chris’s faceclaim. Lucky is a beloved pet mutt and gets to come with Chris and Zip to work cattle, although his main job is to sit and stay since he has zero Cow Sense.

Horses

Jackrabbit, Strawberry, Juniper, and Celilo

Is Chris a dog or cat person? Neither, he’s a horse person (followed by dogs).

Jackrabbit is Chris’s horse he’s had the longest, serving as Chris’s warhorse during his youth. He’s one of the fastest horses any of the western states own, and he’s very selective about who’s allowed to ride him (Christopher, Beverly, Adam, and Helen are the only people who can). He’s a wild tempered buckskin Nez Perce Horse stallion.

Strawberry is a red roan Appaloosa that Chris has had nearly as long as he’s had Jackrabbit. She’s a gentle mare and very good with people.

Juniper is a Kiger Mustang mare, slightly more testy than Strawberry, and more prone to being spooked, but she’s a good horse.

Celilo is a palomino American Quarter Horse gelding, bought to be a reliable pack-horse for Chris. He’s as gentle as Strawberry and loves people.

Jackrabbits

Little Lady or “Lady”

Once upon a time, Chris and Juniper accidentally spooked a mother jackrabbit into the claws of a hawk, and then nearly immediately found her babies. Chris raised the three kits and released them into the wild shortly afterwards, but Lady stuck around his house. She appears pretty reliably every year, and seems to have been affected by his long lifespan, so he gave her a name and treats her a bit more like a pet than anything else.

He loves to joke that Jackrabbit met an actual jackrabbit, and everyone around him glares at him.

Relationships with other States

Family first

Western Oregon/Oregon

Credit to crikadelic again.

Sometimes, your twin sister is a lumberjack lesbian (quite literally on both counts) with arms made of steel and one hell of a right hook. Also she’s way more liberal than you, and politically you get dragged along with whatever she wants.

Ironically, once upon a time, Beverly wasn’t the main personification of the Oregon Territory. It wasn’t until American settlement picked up that the power of the state swung to her. Before then, Christopher held most of the power, but this was also when the Oregon Territory including all of Washington, Idaho, parts of Montana and Wyoming, and since Chris was entirely east of the Cascades, well, it made sense that he held the upper hand. Only later as the size of the land they represented shrank did power trade hands.

As independent as Beverly is, and as willing to tell her twin to fuck off, they have a very close relationship. They tell each other off, and sparks fly between them quite often, with Beverly usually being the one to storm off while Chris remains a wall of a human being. But they’ll quietly make up out of sight later, and then be right back to joking around and teasing each other.

And when it comes to advice, Beverly has no closer confidant than her twin, and often shows him the vulnerability that no one else sees. They trust each other implicitly, knowing that despite their differences, they won’t lead the other astray. No one could ask for a better twin sister.

Eastern Washington/Nyo!Washington

Credit to ME! 

First off, he’s the one on the right, the one on the left is Idaho (we’ll get to him in a bit).

Adam Landes-Bush is the original cause of a radiation of dad energy that seeps from Christopher at pretty much every moment of every day. After retrieving Adam from the Whitman Mission shortly after the Whitman Massacre, Chris basically said “My weird looking white kid now” and ran with it.

He and Adam had to learn to live together fast with help from Helen, as Adam is mute, and Helen taught them both Plains Sign Talk. But Chris adored Adam and taught him how to shoot, hunt, ride, and accepted his limitations when he hit them. He did his best to give Adam a good life, even when it meant sending him away from impending war to live with Martha, who he barely knew then.

They remain close, sharing more culturally with each other and Idaho than they sometimes do with the western halves of their states. Chris was the first person Adam came out to, and the fact that Chris instantly accepted allowed him to embrace his identity as a gay man in a time that it was socially, at best, simply not talked about. Chris would and has killed to protect this boy, and would gladly do so again.

Western Washington/Washington

Credit to crikadelic

Martha, Adam’s younger sister, views Christopher as a father figure, and so, in turn, he’s a little nicer to her than he is to Beverly sometimes.

Christopher and Martha met at a crossroads in both their lives. Christopher had been involved in the Nez Perce War and come home feeling lost and alone. Beverly had taken off around the same time to run wild in the Southwest, leaving a still very young Martha to fend for herself and Clark, and now Adam. Martha was struggling to handle the load, and Christopher needed to find his place in this unfamiliar world, and fast.

They were able to cooperate quickly, Chris taking on the workload of the farm and helping with Clark, allowing Martha and Adam to start growing and learning the responsibilities they needed to run a state. And in exchange, Martha taught Chris how to read and write English, and helped him improve his skills in speaking the language. 

To this day, they haven’t forgotten this point in their lives, and tend to critique each other much more carefully than they critique the other halves of their states.

End of Family, onto other states

Idaho

Credit to crikadelic

Ah, Clark Ashley, who exists in the most interesting little place in Chris’s mind. He’s friends with this guy, almost a father figure, hell, helped raise the little twerp. At the same time, he’s made Adam cry before, so he could also wring his neck. 

Clark and Chris have a very good and amiable relationship in general, and enjoy the other’s company. Clark admires Chris a lot, and Chris views him like a much younger version of Beverly, carrying many of her same qualities of extreme stubbornness and rampant emotions, as much as Clark will say he’s nothing like her.

However, the root of Chris’s constant problems with Clark relies mainly on one fact. Clark’s internalized homophobia at himself that affects his and Adam’s relationship, which has swayed from deeply involved romance to barely tolerating being in the same room. When Clark and Adam get into spats with their push me, pull you, almost a relationship, Chris gets caught in the middle, and always takes Adam’s side in the fight. He’s tried to even discourage them from pursuing each other at times to end the constant back and forth, but it’s never worked.

However, as Clark’s started to accept himself in the 21st century, Chris has been the one person who’s been able to reassure him that , yes, for some crazy reason, Adam still likes you, and Chris thinks that this time, for real, Clark is unlearning the toxic culture he absorbed. So, he wishes that crazy kid lots of luck.

Southern California/California

Credit to crikadelic

To say Roberto and Christopher are antagonistic would be the nicest way of putting it. Despite pretty much being of equal levels of importance to Beverly in her family, they cannot tolerate each other.

Roberto blamed Christopher for some of the worst of Beverly’s behaviors in the 1870s and 1880s, and Christopher blamed Roberto for stifling Beverly so much that she hadn’t been able to emotionally mature. Both arguments had some validity, and yet, a divide in opinions had begun.

Nowadays, Chris and Roberto are mainly antagonistic on pure principle. Chris represents a part of Oregon that is noticeably more red, and Roberto represents 55 blue electoral college votes. Chris has been considerably affected by Californication (large real estate development projects generally seen as similar to those in California), and Roberto sees him as very set in the past and unable to move forward.

Let’s just say Beverly has to work out the holiday seating arrangements very carefully.

Montana

Credit to crikadelic

Helen Rankin has been a friend since Chris met her when the Nez Perce went to trade with the Crow. She taught him sign, became an unofficial mother figure to Adam, and, much later on, officially involved with Christopher himself (they dated from 1898 to 1927).

They’re close friends and allies still. Helen’s as strong as a mountain in more ways than one, and one of the few people who can sway Chris when he’s a storm of emotions. She can be just as stubborn as him, and yet he admires her just as she is, and she feels the same about him. She’s saved his ass so many times, and he’s saved hers a few himself. If they needed the other there, they’d be there in a heartbeat.

They also additionally have an “unofficial” daughter to accompany their unofficial son in Adam. I’ve been developing a Missoula, Montana OC (Mariah Welch), and she’s been heavily influenced by Chris over the years, and is about as damn close to him as Adam. 

A quick note

Before I move on to my next section, I have been tinkering with my canon in the last several months, after a friend who had allowed me to entwine my Statetalia canon very heavily with theirs ghosted me, and this has affected this character significantly.

Christopher had been involved with their Nyo!Texas in the modern day, with Helen as his best friend. However, no longer comfortable with using this person’s OCs, I have yet to decide if Chris and Helen have, in the last few years, rekindled their relationship, or if my own Texas OC, who is a woman and in the earliest stages of development, is in a romantic relationship with him. This is going to take a long while to decide for personal reasons, and I’m okay with that.

Other States-Brief Thoughts

Northern California/Nyo!California- Inexplicably, he likes Alejandra way more than Roberto. Probably because of their little side project for the independent state of Jefferson.

Kansas- Nowhere near as antagonistic as Beverly and Evelyn’s relationship. He will agree with Evelyn to a certain point, but then he has to start defending his sister. Anyhow, she’s cute.

Nebraska- Logan’s a decent guy to have a drink with, definitely would have been a good guy for Adam if Adam hadn’t been so focused on Clark. IF he and Helen don’t end up getting back together in canon, he’s lowkey pushing for Helen and Logan to get together.

New York- Literally irrelevant to him, why are you asking for an opinion on that jackass?

Texas- Absolutely one amazing, ass-kicking woman, with the gift of aim from the gods, a smoking hot body, and God, she could step on him frankly. (I reiterate, my Texas OC is in development and this is subject to change).

RANDOM FACTS

-Sniper man! Christopher has served as a sniper for several wars. The Nez Perce were noted marksmen during the Nez Perce War, and one of the US’s most noted snipers was from Eastern Oregon. 

-Additionally, Christopher has always served in the US Marine Corps when he’s been fighting for the US.

-He originally was given the same last name as Beverly, Joseph-Astor. He dropped Astor following the Nez Perce War as an act of protest.

-Chris has two “paired” names from when I created his character. Beverly’s middle name is Columbia, so Christopher and Columbia, after Christopher Columbus (something neither of them is very thrilled about nowadays), and his middle name of Lewis pairs with Idaho’s first name, Clark, in honor of that famous expedition.

-Has a knife that was from Lewis and Clark’s Corps of Discovery as a trading item. It’s his second most irreplaceable object.

-Speaks Nez Perce (Niimi'ipuutímt), Chinook Jargon, Crow, Plains Sign Talk, ASL, Russian, German, Spanish, Basque, and English. 

-Has the most currently established tattoos out of any of my OCs.

#casuallyeatingrocks #oc chris #aph oregon #hws oregon #nyo oregon #ask hipsofsteel #long post

[sciencespies]

Katherine Johnson, NASA mathematician portrayed in 'Hidden Figures', dies at 101

https://sciencespies.com/news/katherine-johnson-nasa-mathematician-portrayed-in-hidden-figures-dies-at-101/

Katherine Johnson, NASA mathematician portrayed in 'Hidden Figures', dies at 101

(Reuters) – Katherine Johnson, the black woman whose mathematical genius took her from a behind-the-scenes job in a segregated NASA as portrayed in the film “Hidden Figures” to a key role in sending humans to the moon, died on Monday at the age of 101, NASA said.

FILE PHOTO: U.S. President Barack Obama presents the Presidential Medal of Freedom to NASA mathematician Katherine G. Johnson during an event in the East Room of the White House in Washington November 24, 2015. Johnson is a pioneer in American space history. REUTERS/Carlos Barria/File Photo

“Our NASA family is sad to learn the news that Katherine Johnson passed away this morning at 101 years old,” NASA Administrator Jim Bridenstine posted to Twitter. “She was an American hero and her pioneering legacy will never be forgotten.”

Johnson was awarded a Presidential Medal of Freedom by former President Barack Obama in 2015 and in 2016 he cited her in his State of the Union Address as an example of America’s spirit of discovery.

“She’s one of the greatest minds ever to grace our agency or our country,” then NASA Administrator Charles Bolden said when Johnson was presented the presidential medal.

In 2016, NASA named a research facility for Johnson in her hometown of Hampton, Virginia, and a year later her alma mater, West Virginia State, marked her 100th birthday in August 2018 by establishing a scholarship in her name and erecting a statue.

Johnson and her black colleagues at the fledgling NASA were known as “computers” when that term was used not for a programmed electronic device but for a person who did computations. They were little known to the public for decades but gained overdue recognition when the book “Hidden Figures” was published and the 2016 Oscar-nominated movie hit the screens. Johnson attended the 2017 Oscars ceremony, joining the film’s cast in presenting an award for documentaries, and was given a standing ovation.

Johnson had a groundbreaking career of 33 years with the space agency, working on the Mercury and Apollo missions, including the first moon landing in 1969, and the early years of the space shuttle program. Astronaut John Glenn thought so much of her that he insisted Johnson be consulted before his historic earth-orbiting flight in 1962.

“Get the girl to check the numbers,” he said.

“He knew I had done (the calculations) before for him and they trusted my work,” Johnson told the Washington Post in 2017.

IGNORED THE RACISM

During the space race between the United States and the former Soviet Union that began in the late 1950s, Johnson and her co-workers ran the numbers for unmanned rocket launches, test flights and airplane safety studies using pencils, slide rules and mechanical calculating machines. But they did their work in facilities separate from white workers and were required to use separate restrooms and dining facilities.

Johnson always said she was too busy with her work to be concerned with racism.

“She didn’t close her eyes to the racism that existed,” Margot Lee Shetterly wrote in “Hidden Figures.” “She knew just as well as any other black person the tax levied upon them because of their color. But she didn’t feel it in the same way. She wished it away, willed it out of existence inasmuch as her daily life was concerned.”

As a girl, Johnson was fascinated by numbers and counted everything, even the steps she took while walking and the dishes she washed after dinner.

She grew up in West Virginia at a time when educational opportunities for blacks were limited because of segregation. But her mother, a former teacher, and her father, a farmer and handyman, stressed education and moved the family 120 miles to a town that had a high school for black children.

Johnson’s math skills got her into West Virginia State College at age 15. She zipped through the school’s math program, earning degrees in math and French before becoming one of the first black students in the graduate school at West Virginia University in 1938.

After teaching school for seven years, Johnson went to work for the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, a forerunner of NASA, in Hampton in 1953 with dozens of other black women.

Johnson found herself in a realm made up almost exclusively of white men when she was chosen to be part of the team supporting the 1961 mission that made Alan Shepard the first American in space. She would go on to calculate crucial rocket trajectories, orbital paths and launch windows.

Slideshow (3 Images)

Johnson made the transition to the computer era and worked on the shuttle program while writing or co-writing 26 research reports before retiring in 1986, NASA said.

She said she was most proud of her contributions to the first moon mission, which included the calculations that synched the lunar lander craft and the orbiting command module.

Johnson and her first husband, James Goble, who died in 1956, had three daughters. She married Lieutenant Colonel James Johnson in 1959.

Writing by Bill Trott; Additional reporting by Barbara Goldberg in New York; Editing by Diane Craft, Lisa Shumaker and Alistair Bell

Our Standards:The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.

#News

#News

[spartansuttons]

Melvin Akins (1995-2019)

This is a picture of my friend, Melvin Akins. Four weeks ago, Melvin and I were trying to figure out where we would go to lunch downtown Detroit this summer. This morning, I attended his funeral. His published obituary reads, “Melvin was born on April 20, 1995 and passed away on Wednesday, June 26, 2019. Melvin was a resident of Michigan at the time of passing.” Because Melvin was so much more than just those few words printed in the newspaper, I wanted to post my own thoughts here about a young man whose life was cut tragically short.

Many of my friends and colleagues might recognize Melvin. He was one of the first students I worked with as part of Winning Futures, a non-profit mentoring program for high school students. When I met him, Melvin was a junior at Warren Mott High School.

Melvin had tough times as a kid. He lost his mother at an early age and his father was never really part of the picture. His older sister was raising him and doing the best she could, even though she wasn’t that much older than him. Melvin always knew he wanted more out of life than what he had been exposed to. He wanted to travel, make money, have an important job, rise above his circumstances. At lot of kids talk about those things, but I could tell when I spoke with Melvin that he sincerely wanted to make it happen and knew the hard work it would take to get there.

Melvin didn’t love school, but he always had a smile on his face every time I saw him. I loved his spirit right off the bat. He had an infectious personality, a way of making everyone around him comfortable.

The following school year, Melvin got into some trouble at school one day and was ultimately sent to the school district’s alternative program at Community High School. I had seen this situation play out several times professionally, so I knew what it would mean for most kids – the end of the line academically. Many kids in that circumstance shut it down, forget about school, and simply move to the next phase of their lives. Melvin did exactly the opposite. That reassignment to Community High was the moment that everything, academically, seemed to click for Melvin. He knew that if he wanted to achieve the lofty goals for himself, he had to take school more seriously. And did he ever. Fast-forward a few semesters and he was graduating as Valedictorian of the Community High senior class.

He could have stopped there and been satisfied, but not Melvin. He went on to college, earning an associate’s degree from Baker College with stellar grades – on the Dean’s List every semester. Still not enough. He wanted to take classes at Oakland University and obtain his bachelor’s degree, but that would take more money. He had a job or two at all times. His favorite post was working at the Detroit Athletic Club (DAC) in the locker room. He met several prominent local businessmen and professionals while he was there. He loved to talk to them, ask for advice, pick their brains. That thirst for knowledge – practical, life knowledge – was always present.

While the Winning Futures mentor role is intended to stop at graduation, my relationship with Melvin was just getting started when he graduated from high school. We texted all the time. He’d tell me how things were at school, his job, or the ladies. We met often for lunch, usually downtown. We’d talk for a few hours about life. He often expressed that “making it” was a lot of effort, harder than he thought it would be. But he always committed to continuing to work as hard as possible to get there. We talked a lot about our families – I updated him on my crazy life running around to sports with my kids; he talked about his grandmother, who he was living with to help take care of her, his sister, and his nephew, who he always found time to hang out with and was helping raise into a young man.

At some point in every conversation, Melvin would thank for me all I had done for him. And I told him every time that I hadn’t done anything – he was the one doing the work, making the right choices, valuing his education, his family, and hard work. I told him how proud I was of him; that he had overcome adversity, eschewed challenges, and just kept moving forward, determined to reach his goals. I always ended every meeting or call or text with a simple message to him – “keep grinding.”

On the surface, Melvin and I had nothing in common. But our dissimilarity was circumstantial only. On the things that mean everything in life, we couldn’t have been more alike. I think that’s why we became such good friends over the years.

Melvin died following a motorcycle accident last week. It was his first time riding a motorcycle. He only got a block away when he lost control, crashed, and sustained fatal injuries. That news was so shocking, but it also made me mad as hell. How could this kid – this amazing kid – do something so stupid, like get on a motorcycle he didn’t know how to ride? Melvin had made every right decision for damn near a decade and this is how it ended? I couldn’t believe it. But then I remembered – for as mature and thoughtful and caring as he was, he was 24 years old. What was I doing at 24? Might a motorcycle have seemed like a good idea to me at that point? I thought I was invincible at 24; he probably did too.

I had another thought as I processed my grief – a lot of people roam the Earth for decades and make no impact on anyone. Melvin was a young man who, in 24 years, impacted more people in a profound way than many people do in a lifetime that extends much, much longer.

And I choose, amongst this aggravatingly confusing outcome, to celebrate that. To celebrate his hard work, how he lived, how he treated others, and to let it serve as a reminder than anyone can do anything they set their minds and hearts to.

He also serves as a reminder that we all have a lot more in common with one another than we think. Zip codes, clothing, material things – they mean nothing in the grand scheme. Connection on the important things – family, friends, faith, attitude, and effort – those are the ties that bind.

This is a picture of Melvin. He was an amazing young man. He is – and will always be – my friend.

[lady-divine-writes]

Hummel Holidays one-shot: “Everyday Superhero” (Rated PG13)

Summary: While watching Kurt buy toys for a Christmas fundraiser, Sebastian learns a valuable lesson somewhere between the Pokemon plushies and the Barbie aisle when a little girl mistakes him for someone else. (1477 words)

Rare pair: Kurtbastian

Notes: I wrote something similar for another pairing, but it's not exactly the same, jsyk. Written for the Hummel Holidays prompt 'shopping'.

Read on AO3.

“Do you have to pick out every present yourself?” Sebastian asks, rummaging through a box of Pokémon plushies and making them battle one another. “I mean, you don’t even know these kids.”

“I guess not.” Kurt shrugs. “But buying toys is fun! It gets me into the holiday spirit!”

“Do you know what gets me into the holiday spirit?”

“A bottle of Courvoisier and a stack of porno mags?”

“No. Watching you dress up in that green and red Christmas sweater of yours and play Kurtie the Christmas Elf.”

Kurt looks over his shoulder, mildly confused by the child friendly overtones of Sebastian’s remark. “Really?”

“Yup. As long as that sweater’s all you’re wearing,” Sebastian continues, sliding his hands around Kurt’s hips, his fingers weeding through the unoccupied belt loops.

Kurt shakes his head. “Good feelings gone,” he says, putting three boxes of Star Wars action figures into his shopping cart.

Seeing his seduction technique fail miserably, Sebastian sighs. “So you’re really going to spend the entire afternoon at some random middle school wrapping presents?”

“Yes sir-ee.”

“Can we maybe have sex before you go?”

“Are you going to change your mind and come with me?” Kurt asks, checking items off his list.

“Uh, that would be no. I don’t volunteer, babe. I’m rich. I write checks and go on with my life.”

Kurt huffs. “Then no afternoon nookie for you.”

“There’s my holiday spirit gone, Scrooge McTightPants,” Sebastian says, taking his hands off his fiancé’s hips and shoving them into his pockets.

“Put on a Santa hat and write a check. It should come right back.”

Sebastian goes back to rummaging through a different box of stuffed toys when he gets the distinct feeling that someone is stalking him. He stands straight and peeks down the aisle left and right with his eyes so as not to be too obvious about it. Once he confirms his suspicions, he comes up behind his fiancé and whispers: “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“Title of your sex tape?” Kurt says, recycling his favorite catch phrase from Brooklyn Nine Nine.

“Shhh. Keep it G-rated. We’re not alone.” Sebastian tilts his head to the side. Kurt’s gaze follows, but he doesn’t see anything until he peeks over his fiancé’s shoulder. From around the corner at the end of the aisle, Kurt spots a pair of stunning blue eyes set in a tiny face surrounded by shoulder length blonde hair disappear in a blur into the Barbie aisle.

“What the …?” he mumbles. Then he chuckles. “Uh-oh. It looks like we have company.”

Sebastian turns to see a woman headed their way, spurred on by a tiny girl, pushing her in their direction.

“Hi.” The woman waves sheepishly. “I am so sorry to bother you …”

Kurt smiles. “It’s alright. Is there something we can do for you?”

“Kind of.” The woman peeks nervously behind her when the girl gives her a shove. “My name is Kianna. This …” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder at the child they have yet to see completely “… is my daughter Shayna.”

“Hello, Shayna.” Kurt tries to maneuver around Kianna’s legs to get a good look at her daughter. He catches a glimpse of her, but she moves too quickly out of the way for Kurt to get more than that. But from what he can see, the girl isn’t paying attention to him.

She’s completely focused on Sebastian.

“She’s a little shy,” Kianna says. “But she asked me to come talk to you because she thinks …” Kurt hears the girl whisper, something only her mother can understand, and Kianna sighs. “I’m so very sorry, but she thinks that you …” She gestures to Sebastian “… are Barry Allen.”

Sebastian’s eyes go wide. “Barry Allen?” he repeats. “You mean like … The Flash Barry Allen?”

Shayna giggles, and Kianna’s cheeks turn pink. “Yeah. Again, I’m really sorry about this, but her father’s underway. He’s not going to be home for Christmas. And I thought that maybe … if you didn’t mind … I mean, I know you don’t know us, but …”

While Kianna talks to Kurt, Sebastian gets down on one knee to get a better look at Shayna. She braves a peek, lower lip sucked so far between her teeth, he can see every freckle on her chin.

He smiles and gives her a wink.

“So, you figured me out, huh?”

Both Kurt and Kianna go silent when they hear Shayna gasp.

“It is you!” Shayna says, eyes so wide they start to compete with every other feature on her face. “My mom said it probably wasn’t you, but I knew it was! I just knew it!”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Sebastian says, not entirely sure where he goes from here. “But you can’t tell anyone, okay? I’m not supposed to be in town.”

“Oh, don’t worry …” Shayna motions over her mouth like she’s zipping her lips “… I won’t say anything to anyone! I promise!” She gives Sebastian a once over, a quizzical look on her face. “Where’s your super suit?”

“I … keep it in my ring,” he says, quickly culling from one of the few pieces of Flash trivia that he knows. He raises his hand and shows Shayna his engagement ring from Kurt – a smooth, platinum band with a simple filigree engraving. “Remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Shayna reaches out a hand to touch it, but decides against it, and instead stares at it in awe. She examines it, tilting her head and scrunching her nose. “It looks different than it does on TV.”

“It has to, or else bad guys would know where it is.”

“Yeah! That makes sense!”

Kurt doesn’t hear everything Sebastian says to Shayna, which would normally make him nervous because the man has no filter, but as Shayna’s eyes become wider and her smile spreads, he realizes he has nothing to worry about. Sebastian is a man with a vivid imagination, and whereas that imagination is usually in the gutter, this time he’s weaving this girl a tale of superhero antics, acting as sidekick to a man he calls The Fashion Meister (whom Kurt realizes, with a flick of Shayna’s eyes upward, is supposed to be him) in an attempt to save Christmas for the entirety of P. S. 78 in Queens.

Kianna watches Sebastian interact with her daughter, smiling wistfully when Shayna tells Sebastian that, without a doubt, he’s her favorite superhero.

When Sebastian says, “Well, your daddy is mine,” tears slip down her cheeks.

“Okay, Shay,” she says, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her shirt, “I think it’s time for us to go and let these gentlemen get back to their business.”

“She means the mission,” Shayna corrects for her mother.

“That’s right,” Sebastian says. “But you know what? Maybe we’ll bump into each other again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Shayna says, hopping on the balls of her feet. “Maybe we will.”

Kianna takes her daughter’s hand, but the girl breaks free and throws herself into Sebastian’s arms. “Thank you, Barry,” she says, squeezing him tight.

It takes Sebastian a second, but he wraps his arms around Shayna’s thin body and squeezes back. “No, Shayna. Thank you. And make sure you thank your daddy for me the next time you talk to him. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“Come on, Shay,” her mother says in a wobbly voice. “We should be getting home.”

“Alright.” Shayna gives Sebastian a kiss on the cheek, then takes her mother’s hand and practically pulls her from the aisle, telling her all the things Sebastian had said about his and Kurt’s mission to save Christmas.

Sebastian watches Shayna and her mother round the corner, the girl pausing a moment to give them one final wave before she skips excitedly out of sight. But Sebastian doesn’t look away, staring thoughtfully after her. He doesn’t snap out of it until Kurt puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s up?” he asks with a soft sniff. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

��I was just wondering,” Sebastian says, slowly falling back to earth, “do you think there’s room down at that school for one more elf?”

“Are you asking to come with me?”

“Maybe,” Sebastian says, swiftly wiping a hand across his cheek before he turns to look at his fiancé. “Do you think we could stop by our place and have sex first?”

“I’m not sure we have time,” Kurt teases.

“I am The Flash.” Sebastian winds an arm through Kurt’s and leads him towards checkout. “They call him the fastest man alive. I don’t have any super powers, but I’m pretty sure I can live up to that.”

Kurt laughs, pushing his cart down the aisle with his head on his fiancé’s shoulder. “In this instance, I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

[alchemisland]

Moors Mutt IV - Old Stone

Lar had set plates of milk and egg on the exterior ledge in tribute to the fae folk said to inhabit the ancient mounds. Ah, how rugged tradition. Despite innumerable era-defining events happening daily across the world, for the village of Sperrin it was just another day when the sun rose and, with luck, set again in the evening. They hadn't time for dullards in tailed suits dictating tastes, but they had still team to tend the interspecies relations their ancestors cherished. By all accounts I have heard, to spurn the giving of tributes and gifts incurs great penalty from these entities, with many a workman rising with thorns in his bed after rooting out on the old Hawthorns, which are so revered entire networks and key routeways, which I say should serve to modernise this place a bit, are diverted from their course to leave the old fairy trees in peace. Even now I puzzle at this strange practice, at the contrast between past and present evident in all things once you leave the big cities. The fae, I have since learned, are a race of otherworldy beings driven beneath the furrows as the plague of mankind spread; its boils gaping swordwounds, its pus the belch of industry, and always fatal. Thackeray's 'Sketchbook 1842' spake thusly on the practice; "Crude as their barn religion seems to the imperial beholder, there is yet intricacy in this practices and archaic wisdom therein. If a faith's claim to true institutional status is the number of adherents, there are more worshippers in these bog towns, who bear saints names, than ever had Patrick driven toward the tide." Thackeray made no mention of an egg dish though.

A scarred moggy had the scent hot on his nostrils, thought he what fine folks we to leave a sup for me. I watched him furtively take the decking and slink toward the dish. First he tapped the rim to glean what consequence he might incur, but seeing the clear craned and began to lap its contents delightedly, soaking its whiskers. Fergus thundered out the door, beelining towards the cat which he had spied through the window. He lifted a knee with all grace of rusted Talos and swung the appendage toward the hissing feline. Bold, but not careless, the moggy bailed, zipping from sight before Fergus' hobnail hit. I supposed it a tad overreactive, but when one considers the fae as a true belief system, that cat was essentially gobbling up our good faith, and I thought with another opportunity I'd have done the same.

Lar seemed smaller inside. The barframe served to deemphasize his ample stature, a kingly six foot one stood stock straight; more kingdom keep than tavern keep, and a fur mantle he wore most Heraclean. He took great stomping strides, as in a childhood tale my mother fireside imparted of a giant who wore seven league boots. His ever-bailed fists hung like cudgels by his side, two loyal hounds never stumped for purpose. In his great shadow, one felt a gratitude for civilisation; a concept voluntary for men like Lar. Every second a short man, like me, spent not being torn limb from limb by a man like him was a second lived by his decree.

I swanned to his side, eager for revelation, suddenly taken by the spirit of adventure. Not quite the long walk to the docks before an age on the high seas, for indeed the only thing Sperrin had to resemble the rippling sails of farbound triremes were the sad slanted fabric roofs in the central square still hanging from the Christmas Market, but it was no less a proud moment and a little death; the death of office and oath, of duty, of tedium; for that day I was no longer a swaddled urbanite, good only for council meetings and book reviews, I was reborn in renown; I set off toward the unknown with all the zeal of a whorebound sailor, as of old heroes had.

'Lar, a moment if I could. In the house yesterday I found a bill of sale for an old church somewhere in the demesne. Do you know it?' I asked.

'Know it? Took my first communion there. As did he.' Lar nodded toward Fergus who jostled delightedly, pulling the second of three bags across his vast flank. 'Everyone did. Before she got her toxic claws in.'

'You're joking? I didn't think to ask last night, I thought you wouldn't be interested. This is most fortuitous. Oh, lash me for assuming. What age were you when it closed?'

'After first Communion.' Lar said, concealing his question.

'I'm not Roman Catholic. Happy? My father was a man of intense private faith. Very distrustful of institutions. He encouraged us, and others, to think for ourselves, not to puzzle overmuch the mysteries of man's making.'

'That explains a lot.' said Lar, papist to the root.

'I'm no heathen.' I exhaled my irriation. 'I know my bible well as any bishop; better even. My father wanted to join the priesthood, alas it was not to be. A noble ambition, even unfulfilled. Does that satisfy your piety?'

'What stopped him?' said Lar, unsatisfied. I saw glinting around his neck a pendant freshly clad, its chain lightly linked, an effigy of holy Saint Anthony sun-crowned acentre against a gold rondure.

I shrugged my shoulders. 'Insitutions? He didn't talk about it. So enlighten me if you will; what age is Communion? Twelve - or is that Consternation?'

'It's Confirmation.' Lar spat through gritted teeth. 'Communion is the unleavened bread. Usually the ceremony takes place when the child is seven or eight.'

'Right. And Lady Sizemore, you would not deny she was a woman of means?'

Lar scoffed, loosening phlegm. 'I would not.'

'I had presumed so. Her estate is vast, her house lavish, its contents irreplaceable, its memories priceless, but she was not ostentatious in herself. Lar, I know we're out for the beast and don't worry, I still intend keeping up with the thing, but my heart is really set on figuring this church business. See, I have had cause to see her financial records, public and private. Aside from maintenance costs and the occasional queenly feast, she seemed positively a pincher of pennys, a scrimper.' When our eyes met Lar squinted suspiciously, waiting for more. 'I mean to say Lady Sizemore seemed modest despite her earnings, yet enormous costs were incurred purchasing the church and moving the cairn. I want to know why it's so special.'

'You'll soon find out. Where do you think we're going?'

'Truly? An angel. Art thou an angel? Thou art, truly. Who else so cherubim in cheek and lobe!' I nearly clicked my heels. 'How serendipitous I should inquire. Let me ask another question; what's there now?' We had slowed, each of us, in anticipation of local colour. If trips to the outdoors had purpose, twas this, tramping blind and giving life to what has passed, and perhaps in gratitude, if a higher place exists than this, the dead will bid us good fortune.

'Nothing much anymore. There's been a church on that ground since before any Bishop in Rome ever lied. The first Christians arrived, little more than farmers, armed with twisted staves. Stone by stone they built a temple for their desert god, refuse from the cold of the islands. The Gods of ancient Albion were not of the sun, blithe were they to effulgence. Came they from beneath the clod. Slithered out from eel bores and swam the narrow estuaries like boneless longships. Worshippers twisted as their idols took every chance to spurn the advances of the interlopers, but such savagery cannot be upheld. Hate is not enough. Hate is the infernal speed, the thud of knuckles, the thunder at the antler crash of rutting stags, but it is a fickle thing, a false security, sapping and parasitic. By generations, these savage men became curious. They had killed so many, sundered their doings and mocked their skygod, yet still the missionaries adhered his tenets. Perhaps, they thought, this God is some powerful thing. And with that, the spell of the old ways was broken. Already as the tribesmen made their first ginger steps up the slopes, the slopes we ourselves will ascend, the suckered whips and shadowed protrusions of the old ones retracted to the otherworld, down into the deep dells and dark delvings and the dwindling darks of earth. Came they curious and unarmed, bid the missionaries impart this wisdom worth dying for. This site was not alone chosen for its useful vantage and strategic defensive position. The arriving zealots had observed natives worshipping standing stones, more ancient than the predeluvian cultures of hyborea and Tartaria. Such megaliths were known to hold great arcane power. The priests need only convince the tribes that power was theirs, a demonstration of their gospels infallibility, done easily within a generation. Priests controlled education, taste, oversaw cultural changes, discarded blasphemous and mysterious rites. Soon the brood knew nothing of the traditions held by their forebears. An epoch of strife began.'

'Ah. So the priests came, withstood the assault and incorporated existing idols into their own pantheon? How cunning, deceitful and a tragedy I should say too.'

'All-seeing though their God was, people will always do as they please. The old ways survive unchanged, even to this day the older townsfolk meet for the mysteries. When Fergus and I were bairns enormous crowds travelled from far afield to celebrate the imbolc, until she rooted out the cairn and left the church to rack and ruin. It shouldn't have been allowed.' Lar nodded, the ire of its sundering still upon him fresh, running like new fire in his veins and I saw with each clumping step he drove the point of his boot into the soft ground, like a knight's lance in a fallen pikeman's back, spending his annoyance in this manner.

When I saw his shoulders raise with tension lifted and gait restored, I probed further. 'Do you know the priest?'

'Er - yes. Tarbuck I think his name was.'

'What about Talbot - as in Talbot Church?'

Lar raised a suspicious brow, like a furtive otter arching from the swell, they were thin, brown and sleek, I'd say manicured if I didn't know him better, but I suppose I did not know him well at all. His mouth began to turn and I watched him, trying to clear my mind in anticipation of inquest. At last he spoke most considered, rising to be heard over Fergus' hyucking. 'Yes I suppose that sounds right. Talbot. Couldn't tell you more. Why are you asking if you already know? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're withholding information, partner.'

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.' What could I tell him? That I had seen a faceless priest with mucky vestments out for a midnight walk? Where did I see him? Funny you should ask, in bed. In bed? Well, yes. I was in bed, but my mind was to the church called be the peal of silent bells. No, it was best to withhold until I knew more, and still all this time there was the beast, presumably furious at having been picked second.

I was met with silence. More space came between us. Knowing Lar and Fergus would soon disappear from sight, I was forced to shout over the wind, 'Why did she move the Cairn?'

Lar shrugged again. True to his word, he could not tell more than that. 'Winter.'

I had thought much since waking from the dream, about the church and lady Sizemore, about the familiar priest and the sympathetic plight implied in his step and dimmed blue eyes. I had forgotten much of the dream's stark imagery. Only this impression of the man burying his secrets and his spade daubed in clay remained. I found most curious the cairn's relocation. Lar had not seemed confident imparting the reason for its transfer, that Lady Sizemore was told the house wouldn't stand another winter despite having done so two hundred years; to me, that seemed a spurious motive and something worth inquiry.

Dawnflame pulsed in seductive ruby, splintering to a prism that dazzled in its royal array, from bold scarlet to princely vermilion, and in that sanguine bank we found hopeful portent. Other larks stirred from roadside redoubts to wave passage. Husbandmen mostly, any whose labours were bound to the rueful star's whim. Breaking from the road we made for pasture, cutting due Northwest across the plain. Dawn's jewels, stars of morning which are night's silver sisters, sundered underfoot, brittle things past season returning to aether.

Lar and Fergus scouted ahead, rudely parading superior vigour. They whispered among themselves. Fifty years old the pair of them, they still moved like Herne the hunter through all terrains. Fergus gave credence to the theory empty vessels howl loudest, guffawing at every ribaldry Lar conjured from the sewer he called a brain. With spare breath I might have cursed them, but my fury came a decliate whisper, peeling like nighttime bells; loudly and to no one. I wished barren the bellies of the sows that held them.

Ego as engine, for a furious mile I kept pace, propelled solely by a need for petty victory. Predictably, for those bones had long been cast, I quickly slowed back to a sad trudge, slower than my previous languid pace.

Themselves ramblers taking long walks for leisure, Lar and Fergus waited at each fence feigning to check their watches, teasing with so many rests between arrivals a man might never tire. Gladly I obliged, quipping Aesop's lessons were lost to them. What else had I but meek agreement. Nod and smile, chaste to make a Roman wife blush, icily injecting scorn where possible unnoticed.

At length the naked path yielded to thick woodland more typical of the region. We pushed through the system of unbowed oaks, which cast snake haired shadows where light could penetrate. Further the branches enclosed to a dome, stealing our brave shadows. Little rest we took in the maze's darkest sectors. Badger, fox and mole strode brazen, unfamiliar and unafraid. At the helm, Lar thought himself Alexander in Hanyson, immortal thirst his guiding star. I remembered how ended that tale.

How hard it seemed rising after only a moment stilled. How quickly a hard-earned graceful step replaced by rhythmless clomping. It was not until several minutes treading passed that semblance of form returned, and soon after, the next reluctant stop, the mossy bank where last we halted still visible shortly behind.

For a time there was sun. Golden fire, faint and pale beyond a tattered veil. The aperture seized before our eyes until only A crescent of light remained, the golden torc of Ulaid.

This terse land existed long before man's dominion and would reign unchanged in the wake of our expiry. Here she gave no quarter. Gaia dressed for war in all her plate. All twisted briar and stinging barbs, long tunnels of night giving to treacherous muddy groves where a man might be taken by the bog and the old things therein.

'Where in jezebel's saucehole are we?" I planted myself. Thought I of Ephialtes leading Persians through the pass, cursed by the gods to wear his inner treachery outwardly.

Fergus deferred to Lar's judgement. Solomon-like, Lar waved our wagons halted. He tossed the empty skins to Fergus. 'Fill these' he said, miming drinking.

While the Giant fetched pales Lar prodded the scant briar. 'Say Lar.' He bid me sit upon a raised bank.

'You look like shit.'

'Not so bad yourself' I wheezed. 'Truly do we have to go so fast? Is it so far we can't mosey, even just for a mile? I've done walking but this is hoplite stuff.'

'Deal.' Lar wanted to sit but he didn't. He stood, knees taxed, breath compromised, but he stood. Nothing to prove and still at attention. One could not deny his character.

We watched Fergus' return, arms extended like some horror out of Jotunheim. Wet cloth clung to his forearms like setting plaster, arousing suspicions he had endured some minor aquatic tragedy. My dry mouth prevented inquiry. I snatched the skin and quaffed generously, muttering thanks. Quite unsympathetically, I had to force myself not to ask 'Water we going to do now?' or comment that it was growing colder the further we went up, in fact 'ri-very cold.'

I produced a flask. Cursed with muteness, Fergus could not explain what manner of calamity had befallen him. Louder his teeth clacked. A mirror pool formed about his feet, spreading wider until he stood aft a glass plinth. I offered a lash. The whiskey shot fire through his veins. His eyes bulged as the water of life reignited the dampened kindling of his passions.

Lar, hitherto predisposed with watering of a different sort, emerged fastening his trousers and immediately noted something awry. He lifted his chin an inch, gave us the once over and bounded towards Fergus. He took a clump of wet tweed and squeezed until it wept through his clenched fist. 'Christ. What happened?'

Lar claimed little of Fergus remained. A friendly shade of what once he was. He assured me what others perceived as emotion was mere instinct. Nerves and twitches, mimicked gestures. Still I swore he had recognised his own foolishness at having fallen into the stream. How shyly he stared to his feet, if only for one moment of divine clarity.

Lar was concerned about Fergus' garments. Wet clothes would spell disaster for the burgeoning expedition. I offered my scarf. Lar followed suit. Like a freed condemned, he slipped the coarse rag from around his own neck. Flattened parallel, they formed a hugging shawl around his sodden shoulders. Gently, by degrees, we warmed Fergus. He took another swig from the flask. In his gargantuan hands, fingers like rolling pins splayed across its scratched surface, the flask appeared little more than a doll's trinket.

Upon imbibing the second drop, revelling its minor anaesthetic quality, his cheeks flashed pink, rouge to blush a whore. When great cities crumbled and ancient wisdoms were lost, when mankind regressed to a baser form, bestial and philistine, beloved of ignorance, the denizens of ancient Ireland had brewed this potent potable, and on its warmth resisted the great debasement. Fire exhumed ice in his veins. The fire of life; the fire of the elixir I had given him, which of old the anointed ones consumed seeking arcane knowledge, devolving their mind to its primal state, therein discovering secrets lost to time.

Ahead the vanguard, Lar spied him first. A shambling form moving quick through the trees. With a limp wave he halted us. Behind we mimed his stoop. On haunches he held the order with a trembling hand, for which we never blamed him. Everyone had reached the same conclusion; the beast was upon us. We had wished without proper consideration. Now our twisted desire was made flesh. From the underworld the beast reeking of acrid smoke had clawed, toxic miasma from the foundries of hell in heady tendrils about its paws.

Gradually the amorphous form revealed contours most corporeal; those of an older man, sweeping towards us at a markedly unsupernatural pace. He moved furtively, shoulders raised to his ears protectively, eyes deep set and impatient. Closer he came until he stood before us on the crest of a mossy embankment. He stood still for address, unsure if we were brigands, bounty hunters or worse. He cast a long glance over each of us in turn, tracing our brows, testing the mettle behind our eyes, down the chest to the navel, to our stained feet and upward again. He shoved a letter into his pocket and I saw on his ringfinger he wore an enormous golden signet, though I could not discern any detail in the dimness.

With his green gillet stained polkadot and wild sideburns adjoining beard and hair, he appeared more victorian eccentric than hiker. I soon learned that his name was Dalliard, a local with roots deeper than those from which his wiry gruaig sprang, a mad albino nest atop his wisened head. He spoke with a thick lilt, a strange medley of gaelic and slang, almost saxon sounding if I didn't know the name Dalliard wasn't Northon. He was assuredly a kill-your-son-and-live-with-your-wife-in silence-for-twenty-years-over-the-lend-of-a-spade type.

Beneath his snowy bristles lay zit red cheeks. I imagined his mouth when it moved as a bubbling postule, his tongue glorious pus emerging like a curious worm's head. As he elbowed past I caught his eye, or rather disturbed him rudely staring. Next I wondered whether the creases on his brow were newly formed, ever present or mere projections of my exhausted, possibly delirious state. No, unmistakably this Dalliard recognised me. Something he saw worried him. Probably some pervert up to no good in the old churchyard, worried we would stumble upon his vile derelictions. Perhaps some looter of antiquities, wondering if I'm here for the same. All this passed in a moment, soon he was long passed and speaking overshoulder.

'Up ahead' he panted, mopping his brow with an overworked handkerchief, 'it levels out. Push on. No more'n a mile. If the kirkyard is left, you've got it. If it steepens again, ye've strayed.'

'The light fades quick. Careful on your way. Don't dally.' Lar called after sardonically.

Emboldened by closeness we came on fast to devour the remaining track, leaping from ledge to mossy shelf with educated precision like trained fleas. How quickly one became accustomed to difficulty; it was not hard to see how we proliferated across every inch of the globe, until even the secret and sacred places of the world were sullied by our refuse; their tranquility strangled by our inanities. Without fire to christen me, mine had been a baptism by stone. Keeping in pace, I turned to Lar and Fergus. 'Know that Dalliard chap well, do you?'

'We don't send cards at Christmas. Lives on the other side of the valley. Different schools, different everything, same parish. Posh eccentric sort. Had some affiliations with the good lady. Why? I'm sure he'd love to take a lovely lass like you for a stew any evening of the year.' Lar bellowed.

'No, it's nothing. Curious

is all. Seemed a bit sketchy to me. Is he all there?'

'Oh yes, quite. Seemed sensible the few times we chanced to meet. Put it from your mind. We're almost there. I've thought of a question all of my own, fancy that, what's your name?'

'Aha.' I smiled. 'I thought you'd never ask.'

'Thought you'd never tell.' Lar smiled, for once unteasingly.

'It's Bastable.' I answered with surprising pride.

'What Bastable?' Lar asked.

'Mr. Bastable will suffice, thank you.'

#Folk horror #Folklore #Myths and legends #Horror #Horror writers #Horror writers of Tumblr #Writeblr #My words #WIP #Writing goals #Plot #Dialogue #Prose #Amwriting #Spilled ink #Writers of Tumblr #Irish writers #Writers of ireland

[johnchiarello]

Mark 7

POSTED BY

CCOUTREACH87

⋅ APRIL 16, 2017 ⋅

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MARK 7[Happy Easter to all] 2 Corinthians 5:21 For he hath made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations https://youtu.be/zqFdLxeaDtI Mark 7 https://ccoutreach87.files.wordpress.com/2017/04/4-11-17-mark-7.zip https://ccoutreach87.com/4-11-17-mark-7/ ON VIDEO- [I also taught the verses from past Sunday’s Mass- and CCCF] .Honor the heritage of your fathers .Was Jesus forsaken? .Yes .Bishop Mulvey got it right [Pastor Don too] .Wash your hands? .Oral tradition .Not just words .Corban .Primary focus on giving in the N.T. – meeting the needs of community .See the dogs .True apostolic teaching .Polycarp .Easter- resurrection- Good Friday .Some have made it about money [sow your best type thing- and get a harvest]. .It’s not about that- at all [New teaching below] 18 Forasmuch as ye know that ye were not redeemed with corruptible things, as silver and gold, from your vain conversation received by tradition from your fathers; 19 But with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot: Peter-

NEW- Before I get into Mark 7- I want to share an insight I had right before making the video. I was mediating on this verse Exodus 31:17 It is a sign between me and the children of Israel for ever: for in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested, and was refreshed.

As I was thinking about the season we are in [Easter]. I thought ‘how does God rest’. After all- he is God. Never runs out of energy- knows everything- you know- the classic attributes of God. During this time we celebrate the death- and resurrection of Jesus. In is humanity [not deity] he was able to die- to be the sin offering for man. After his death- he was raised. But that’s not all- he ascended into heaven and SAT DOWN on the right hand of God. Yes- he rested. The bible says- Acts 15:18 Known unto God are all his works from the beginning of the world.

In a way- God rested after the creation of the heavens and the earth. Jesus was slain form ‘the foundation of the world’- Revelation 13:8 And all that dwell upon the earth shall worship him, whose names are not written in the book of life of the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world.

Yes- the predestined act of death and resurrection and ascension- already took place- before all things were made. God is outside of time. So Jesus not only experienced the pain and agony- but after the assignment was completed- He rested- at the right hand of God- Hebrews 1:3 Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high: In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations Hebrews 10:12 But this man, after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right hand of God; In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

Amen.

NEW [Mark 7] In this chapter Jesus is questioned by the religious leaders- Mark 7:5 Then the Pharisees and scribes asked him, Why walk not thy disciples according to the tradition of the elders, but eat bread with unwashen hands? Now- The Pharisees – with all good conscience- truly believed the Tradition of the Elders was part of authentic worship of God. They believed that God passed down ‘traditions’ given to Moses- that were not contained in the Old Testament. So- the question could have been answered by Jesus simply explaining the difference between the sacred scripture- and tradition. But look at his response- Mark 7:6 He answered and said unto them, Well hath Esaias prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Mark 7:7 Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. Why so mad? We read that they did lots of other things- beside this- Mark 7:13b and many such like things do ye. The 3 year ministry of Jesus- was not only doing all the miracles- but also perceiving how far the people were from God. And they simply had no idea that they were missing the mark. Jesus teaches his men that true purity is not an outward matter- but one of the heart- Mark 7:15 There is nothing from without a man, that entering into him can defile him: but the things which come out of him, those are they that defile the man. The sins of the flesh proceed from a corrupt heart- the religious leaders managed to purify the outside- but inside were ‘full of dead men’s bones’- Matthew 23:25 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess. Matthew 23:27 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men’s bones, and of all uncleanness.

He told them that thru their tradition- they actually skirted the real Word of God- Mark 7:9 And he said unto them, Full well ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your own tradition. How? God commanded to meet the financial needs of their parents. The ‘tradition’ said- if you dedicate these things to God- the material and financial stuff- then you were ‘free’ from having to take care of your parents- Mark 7:10 For Moses said, Honour thy father and thy mother; and, Whoso curseth father or mother, let him die the death: Mark 7:11 But ye say, If a man shall say to his father or mother, It is Corban, that is to say, a gift, by whatsoever thou mightest be profited by me; he shall be free. Mark 7:12 And ye suffer him no more to do ought for his father or his mother; Mark 7:13 Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, So- thru their tradition- they disobeyed God’s word. On the video I got into this dynamic a bit more- and talked about how we in our day might be making the same mistake. Many believers give a portion of their income to the church- which is ok. But often times we feel that met our obligation- and if we see a person in need- well ‘we already gave at the office’ type thing. I have written about this dynamic before- and if I can find it I’ll paste it below. We end the chapter with another miraculous healing of a deaf and mute person. Jesus not only taught doctrine- but he demonstrated the compassion of God. He was able to see behind the façade that many had in his day. When we read of the sharp rebukes of Jesus- to seemingly ok questions- it’s because he saw the heart of man. In this chapter Jesus quotes Isaiah- Mark 7:6 He answered and said unto them, Well hath Esaias prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Mark 7:7 Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. I used to think just the first part was the quote [verse 6]

But I went and read the verse from Isaiah- Isaiah 29:13 Wherefore the Lord said, Forasmuch as this people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught by the precept of men: He quoted the whole thing. Yes- the prophet of old- by the Spirit- saw the same condition. And when we read the ‘fury’ of an Isaiah- or John the Baptist- or even Jesus. It’s because the Spirit of God was revealing the hidden mystery of sin- John 16:8 And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: The people themselves had no idea how far off the mark they were. And it took this type of ‘radical preaching’ to show them the error of their way- so to speak. VERSES Genesis 2:2 And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations Genesis 2:3 And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

PAST POSTS- Below are my past teachings- bible books I quoted on today’s video- and things that relate to today’s post- MARK 7 MARK- https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/02/28/jersey-city-ride-mark-1/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/02/mark-2-north-bergen/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/04/mark-3-isaiah-61/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/14/mark-4/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/03/27/mark-5/ https://ccoutreach87.com/2017/04/05/mark-6/ https://ccoutreach87.com/1st-2nd-corinthians/ https://ccoutreach87.com/john-complete-links-added/ https://ccoutreach87.com/galatians-links/ https://ccoutreach87.com/romans-updated-2015/ https://ccoutreach87.com/james-2015/ I talked about New testament giving on today’s video- below are my little books I wrote years ago- they deal with this subject as well- https://ccoutreach87.com/the-great-building-of-god/ https://ccoutreach87.com/house-of-prayer-or-den-of-thieves/ https://ccoutreach87.com/further-talks-on-church-and-ministry/ I mentioned Polycarp on today’s video- below are my past teachings where I mentioned him [see- that’s why you see these sections on the teaching posts] Introduction; Yesterday I took my kids to the mall after church, I usually get lost in the book store. Even though I bought an entire shelf of books a few months back, I still can’t help from buying more books! So I picked up a few more and found a comfortable bench and started reading the History of Christianity. At the house I am almost thru with another ‘history of Christianity’ that covers the story of the church from Pentecost to the present day. I own a few complete volumes and have checked out many from the libraries over the years. I read from both the Protestant and Catholic [Orthodox] perspectives. I also read from the ‘out of the institutional church’ perspective. These are the histories of various groups of believers who never became Catholic, Orthodox or Protestant. I consider all these groups Christian and appreciate the tremendous wealth of knowledge that these communities provide. Now, as we go thru Acts, I want to stay as close as possible to both the doctrine and practices of the early church as seen in scripture. We are not the first [or last!] study that has attempted to do this. That is attempted to ‘get back to the original design’ as much as possible. Historically you have whole categories of believers who fit into this mindset. They are referred to as ‘Restorationist’ as opposed to Catholic, Protestant or Orthodox. The Church of Christ, The Disciples of Christ, the Anabaptists and others fall into this class. I believe you find true believers in all of these groups. As you read the history of Christianity as told by the other perspectives, you will find it interesting as to the way the institutional church describes these ‘out of church’ groups. Some are called heretics [Waldensians] others are simply seen as fringe groups. The strong institutional church has branded those who would reject her authority as schismatics and heretics on the grounds of their refusal to submit to the hierarchy of the institutional church. As we go thru Acts, I want us to read carefully and see the story as told by Luke. We will not find ‘another more true group’ in the sense that I want to start some new denomination. I also don’t want to simply find proof texts to justify doctrine. Many well meaning believers can find the verses they like the most and use them to combat the other points of view. We will see verses emphasizing the importance of water baptism, or various truths on the outworkings of the Spirit. We will see prophets functioning and read texts that clearly teach Gods sovereignty [as many as were ordained unto eternal life believed]. Instead of getting lost on these side trails, I want us to read with an open mind and allow our beliefs to be shaped by ‘the story’. I will spend time defending my own view of Local church. Not because I believe ‘my view’ is the only thing worth arguing about, but because I believe we see the intent of God for his people to be a living community of believers in this book. Right off the bat we will see giving taught in a radical way. The early church at Jerusalem will ‘continue in the Apostles doctrine and breaking of bread and prayers’. They then sell their goods and distribute to all who had need. Where in the world did they get this idea from? The Apostles doctrine obviously taught the plain teachings from Jesus on sharing what you have with others. So instead of seeing an early tithe concept, you see an early ‘give to those in need idea’ straight from the teachings of Jesus. We will see this early Jerusalem group meet daily, as opposed to seeing ‘Sunday worship’ as some sort of New Testament Sabbath. Of course this group will meet at the Temple [actually an out door courtyard called Solomon’s Porch] and from ‘house to house’. But the simple realty of Christ’s Spirit being poured out on them as a community of people will be the basic understanding of what ‘church’ is. You will find citizens of many surrounding areas going back to the their home towns after Pentecost. These believers shared the gospel with those in their regions and this is how the early church would spread. Some commentaries will show you how when Paul will eventually show up in Rome there already was an established church there. They obviously heard the gospel from these early Roman Jews who were at Jerusalem during Pentecost. So we will see ‘church planting’ from the paradigm of simple believers going to areas with the message of Christ. Those who would believe in these locations would be described as ‘the church at Corinth’ or ‘the church at Ephesus’ and so on. So we see ‘local church’ as communities of believers living in different localities. We will see the development of leadership along the lines of ‘appoint elders in every city’. Not a top heavy idea of ‘Bishop’ in the later sense of Catholic belief, but a simple ordaining [recognizing!] of those in the various cities who were stable enough in the basic truths of the gospel, that in Paul’s absence these elders were to be trusted as spiritual guides. Now, many of our brothers can trace the historic office of Bishop as a fairly early development in church history. Polycarp and others were considered direct disciples of the Apostles who would be seen as Bishops and even write of the importance of Bishops for the church ‘Where there is no Bishop there is no church’. This will cause many well meaning believers to eventually become Catholic/Orthodox as they read the church fathers and see the very early development of Catholic Christianity. In many of the church fathers writings you will also see an early belief in the Eucharist as being the actual Body and Blood of Jesus. To the consternation of many Protestants you even find Luther condemning fellow Protestants for not taking literally the words of Jesus ‘this IS my Body’. Now, I will not defend transubstantiation, but try to follow the trend lines in Acts as to the lack of this doctrine being a part of the early church. We will find Paul’s letter to the Corinthians addressing the Lords Supper, but for the most part we do not see a strong belief in the transmitting of divine grace to the soul thru the eating of Christ’s literal Body and Blood as they ‘broke bread’. We do see the sharing of the common meal and the ‘Eucharist’ as one meal called the ‘love feast’. Only later on in church history is there a division made between the full fellowship meal and the Eucharist. So to be frank about it, I will challenge both our Catholic and Orthodox brothers on some very fundamental beliefs. Well I hope this brief introduction sets the proper tone for the rest of this study, God bless you guys and I hope you get something out of it. John. [parts]

Mark 7:1 Then came together unto him the Pharisees, and certain of the scribes, which came from Jerusalem. Mark 7:2 And when they saw some of his disciples eat bread with defiled, that is to say, with unwashen, hands, they found fault. Mark 7:3 For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, except they wash their hands oft, eat not, holding the tradition of the elders. Mark 7:4 And when they come from the market, except they wash, they eat not. And many other things there be, which they have received to hold, as the washing of cups, and pots, brasen vessels, and of tables. Mark 7:5 Then the Pharisees and scribes asked him, Why walk not thy disciples according to the tradition of the elders, but eat bread with unwashen hands? Mark 7:6 He answered and said unto them, Well hath Esaias prophesied of you hypocrites, as it is written, This people honoureth me with their lips, but their heart is far from me. Mark 7:7 Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. Mark 7:8 For laying aside the commandment of God, ye hold the tradition of men, as the washing of pots and cups: and many other such like things ye do. Mark 7:9 And he said unto them, Full well ye reject the commandment of God, that ye may keep your own tradition. Mark 7:10 For Moses said, Honour thy father and thy mother; and, Whoso curseth father or mother, let him die the death: Mark 7:11 But ye say, If a man shall say to his father or mother, It is Corban, that is to say, a gift, by whatsoever thou mightest be profited by me; he shall be free. Mark 7:12 And ye suffer him no more to do ought for his father or his mother; Mark 7:13 Making the word of God of none effect through your tradition, which ye have delivered: and many such like things do ye. Mark 7:14 And when he had called all the people unto him, he said unto them, Hearken unto me every one of you, and understand: Mark 7:15 There is nothing from without a man, that entering into him can defile him: but the things which come out of him, those are they that defile the man. Mark 7:16 If any man have ears to hear, let him hear. Mark 7:17 And when he was entered into the house from the people, his disciples asked him concerning the parable. Mark 7:18 And he saith unto them, Are ye so without understanding also? Do ye not perceive, that whatsoever thing from without entereth into the man, it cannot defile him; Mark 7:19 Because it entereth not into his heart, but into the belly, and goeth out into the draught, purging all meats? Mark 7:20 And he said, That which cometh out of the man, that defileth the man. Mark 7:21 For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, fornications, murders, Mark 7:22 Thefts, covetousness, wickedness, deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye, blasphemy, pride, foolishness: Mark 7:23 All these evil things come from within, and defile the man. Mark 7:24 And from thence he arose, and went into the borders of Tyre and Sidon, and entered into an house, and would have no man know it: but he could not be hid. Mark 7:25 For a certain woman, whose young daughter had an unclean spirit, heard of him, and came and fell at his feet: Mark 7:26 The woman was a Greek, a Syrophenician by nation; and she besought him that he would cast forth the devil out of her daughter. Mark 7:27 But Jesus said unto her, Let the children first be filled: for it is not meet to take the children’s bread, and to cast it unto the dogs. Mark 7:28 And she answered and said unto him, Yes, Lord: yet the dogs under the table eat of the children’s crumbs. Mark 7:29 And he said unto her, For this saying go thy way; the devil is gone out of thy daughter. Mark 7:30 And when she was come to her house, she found the devil gone out, and her daughter laid upon the bed. Mark 7:31 And again, departing from the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, he came unto the sea of Galilee, through the midst of the coasts of Decapolis. Mark 7:32 And they bring unto him one that was deaf, and had an impediment in his speech; and they beseech him to put his hand upon him. Mark 7:33 And he took him aside from the multitude, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spit, and touched his tongue; Mark 7:34 And looking up to heaven, he sighed, and saith unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be opened. Mark 7:35 And straightway his ears were opened, and the string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain. Mark 7:36 And he charged them that they should tell no man: but the more he charged them, so much the more a great deal they published it; Mark 7:37 And were beyond measure astonished, saying, He hath done all things well: he maketh both the deaf to hear, and the dumb to speak. 7 Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you. 8 And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: 9 Of sin, because they believe not on me; 10 Of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more; 11 Of judgment, because the prince of this world is judged. 12 I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now. 13 Howbeit when he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth: for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear, that shall he speak: and he will shew you things to come. 1Corinthians 15:1 Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye have received, and wherein ye stand; 1Corinthians 15:2 By which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. 1Corinthians 15:3 For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; 1Corinthians 15:4 And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures: James 1:27 Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations Psalm 110:1 The LORD said unto my Lord, Sit thou at my righthand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations 41 While the Pharisees were gathered together, Jesus asked them, 42 Saying, What think ye of Christ? whose son is he? They say unto him, The son of David. 43 He saith unto them, How then doth David in spirit call him Lord, saying, 44 The LORD said unto my Lord, Sit thou on my right hand, till I make thine enemies thy footstool? 45 If David then call him Lord, how is he his son? 46 And no man was able to answer him a word, neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any more questions. Matt. 22 2 Timothy 4:6 For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. In Context | Full Chapter | Other Translations

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The flu

Aching.

I’m cold, but body feels like a furnace, at least on the outside; I wish I had a thermometer so I could see how hot my fever has gotten. My forehead feels hot, and I really don’t need to “check” if I have a fever or anything like that, but if it makes any sense at all without going into my own head for clarity, I find it interesting to see if my body is as hot as it seems, or only a couple degrees up and it makes it seem that much worse. Under a blanket feels kind of nice, but sitting here on my laptop looking at clothing listed on Amazon with just a hoodie and sweatpants is fine for now, every few minutes I get sudden shivers and shaking, my hands barely able to type, but it isn’t what I would call unmanageable.

The entire body aching is the worst part I think, but the prescription ibuprofen helps; I’m glad I got so many from my broken index finger last year. The nausea is close to the worst part too, and if it were constant, it would be, but luckily it is light and doesn’t stay for long. It’s all just observations, I don’t need to figure out that I have the flu, a doctor isn’t needed.

I can’t go to my meeting tonight, I feel like shit and I wouldn’t want anyone catching whatever strain of influenza that I have anyways. Besides, I certainly can miss a day, I’m not gonna drink feeling like this just because I miss one meeting, I’ve missed a day or two before and I still am going on 5 years without it, so I don’t know why I’m beating myself up for missing a day. I guess it’s just because on Tuesdays, we have open discussion, which is refreshing to not be tied to one thing, especially when that one thing is a chapter dealing with something which just makes people say stupid stereotypical phrases nonstop and makes me want to leave halfway through. Enough, I feel bad and I don’t want others to feel bad, I’m not going. I want to find a motorcycle jacket, and what would be really cool is to find some combat boots; I think that is what they are called, like doc martens. I want shorter ones, my 12 hole boots are nice, I love them, but they take too long to put on/take off. I am digging the shorter ones that aren’t real leather. I hate to admit this because I am obsessed with moto style jackets and it seems like everyone looks good in them, but I know I personally look better in the standard zip up “leather” jackets. Doesn’t matter, I want a slim fitting motorcycle jacket, this one right in front of my eyes for just $40, and I’m buying this pair of 8 eyelet boots too. I might feel like death incarnate, but in a day or two, I’ll have some awesome presents to myself delivered right to me and that makes me feel good.

I need rest, I feel like I can’t even function enough to do the smallest tasks. Good night self; it’s bedtime at 8 p.m. tonight. _____________

I feel good today, well I didn’t feel the best this morning, but I have started to feel better today, I think the ibuprofen right away helped, and I still feel kind of cold, but at least I’m not shivering. It kind of hurts when I go to the bathroom though, like right when I finish peeing, it stings, and I saw blood in my urine this morning. I hope that goes away. The bad thoughts are creeping in, but I am too much in a slightly recovering/slightly still sick state of mind to give it much thought.

Tomorrow will be a lift in spirits since I can dress up and forget everything for a few hours, just enjoy the night. Someone online said what I was going through (what I AM going through) could just be a panic attack of sorts since it seemed to only last a couple days, but I have panic and anxiety attacks weekly, I know them from start to finish, I have the flu, some strangely short flu. ______________

Ok, in my obsessive mind, I need to count off to make sure I have everything. I have my teeth in perfectly fit to my canines, I have my tailed black jacket on, over my white button up cotton shirt, I have my black leggings on and my long boots all laced up. My white gloves are set neatly next to my keys and vaporizer along with my fake blood and wallet. Perfect, that is everything.

I feel like I came back with a vengeance now that I feel a little better, or at least a part of me did. I probably looked at too many videos and pictures on Tumblr of naked people doing adult things, because I need something, I NEED someone to be with. I tell myself I have “bad thoughts” sometimes, but I almost think I’m being unfair or a little juvenile to myself, it isn’t bad thoughts, it’s just that I guess I am sensitive because when I say hi to a girl or guy online I take it personally when they are standoffish or ignore me, and I tell myself I’m not good enough or not attractive enough to have someone. It’s unfair to myself because when I tell myself that the anxious thinking is “bad thoughts”, I know it only makes things worse, and it is bizarre that I am the first to correct someone else downplaying depression or anxiety, but I do it to myself. Understand my actions, and forgive my thoughts, that’s what I have to tell myself. I should put eyeliner on, it makes me look sexier, and that is what Halloween is all about, being sexy, scary, or both.

Here I go, the sexy, scary vampire with dark red hair and blood under my mouth along with a line of blood on my right pointer finger so I can look at people (kids mostly, I hope that isn’t too harsh) and pretend I am “shushing” them when I walk by, as if saying “don’t tell anyone I am a vampire”. It is silly, but I think it is creative too, and I like it, I think that is all that matters.

There is a lot of people out tonight, and If I am being honest, I’m digging a lot of the costume choices some of the adults are wearing. There is a young looking guy who is actually extremely cute, wearing a Holden Caulfield costume that he must have made and I don’t think many people recognize who he is, but I do and I love it, especially the tight white shirt pressed against his thin but not skinny body, and his abs gently pressed against it. A couple yards down, there is a young woman I assume in her mid 20’s that is wearing a storm trooper costume, with white and black shiny leather pants; from behind, her butt is small, but looks amazing in them, I’d join the dark side for her any day. Observing never hurt anyone, as long as it’s only to ourselves, I just enjoy watching.

________________

It’s Friday, finally the weekend is just about here and to make things even better, I think my flu is gone, I don’t feel bad this morning. I think more than anything, going back to work is the best part, I don’t like sitting at home and having nothing to do besides sleep and schedule clients or bookkeep. My employees are great and they handle the café just fine, but I like having interaction with customers, I am too social to lay idle and alone. I get to go to the meeting tonight, I never thought I would actually be excited to go to meetings in my younger years, but I am now. Tonight has no topic, it is just an open meeting without ties to one certain substance or topic, and I have been going there the longest, it is definitely my favorite one, especially since I am one of the members that has the longest time, even at only 26 years old. I get to see friends and people I’ve grown close to for so long and I am actually excited about it, I really am.

Bad thoughts, or actually anxious thoughts are back. I want to talk to customers and I want to make everyone around me happy, but it is hard when you are afraid for your life. I am not scared that someone is gonna kill me and this isn’t even a “vision” or anything supernatural like that, I am afraid that for no reason at all, I’m going to fall dead right here and someone that cares about me will find me; my therapist said I should talk myself down when I feel like this, I feel crazy talking to myself in my own head, narrating what is happening right in front of me, or at least what my mind tells me is GOING to happen, but she says it works, so here I am. I am afraid, I have fear and I have other things, but fear is what I recognize right now. I have fear that I am going to suffocate because my throat is closing up and I feel like I am gasping for air. I have fear that I am going to meet someone one day and whether it is a boy or girl I am not sure, but I am going to meet someone and they will get tired of me and either cheat on me or leave me because I am not good enough. I have sadness. I am sad because my mind reminds me of when I was 18 and my father shot himself, then my mother broke down and couldn’t fend for herself any longer and I felt that it was my fault since he knew I like both genders and even though he always loved me and has gay friends, he probably didn’t want his own child to be “different”. I have fear that my business will fail because there is so many bigger places out there and it isn’t like I have the means to ACTUALLY compete with them. I have pain, physical, because I cut myself on a hard plastic cup this morning. I am fearful that someone will want to be with me one day and find out that I am not a tough, emotionless business owner who can take on anything, inside I am vulnerable and just as scared of life and of failure and everything else, just like the next person would be. Breathing, deep breaths, it’s ok, I don’t need to revert to fight or flight, I am safe, there is no tiger in the room with me, I am going to be alright, just breathe, take time, be ok for yourself and smile, even if you aren’t happy, it helps. I had some nausea, and my hands were shaking, but it is going away. Just breathe. I am going to be fine.

The day went better after breathing, imagine that. Just a reflective thought; I guess my therapist was right too, about talking myself through it. This meeting will be nice, I need it. Sue has a year tonight, I just remembered that, I always liked her, I am proud of her. Lots of friendly, or at very least familiar faces tonight, I like it, it makes me feel comfortable. The chairs in the room are all in a sort of square-ish circle, so everyone is in front no matter what. I guess I’ll take the seat near the windows since someone else is in my normal chair; no big deal. These groups are run by a therapist, but she is late today, and John is pretty talkative about his interest in the fact that I go skydiving sometimes. You would think I would be terrified of it, but it is somewhat in a crazy way, therapeutic to me.

Someone new is walking in, I’ve never seen him. He has tattoos across his right arm, all in a Japanese style. He looks like he could be Hispanic or maybe slight Japanese himself, and the shirt he is wearing is tight against his body. He is sitting next to me, I don’t know if this is the best or worst thing that could happen here. His hair is dark brown, but he is wearing a grey beanie that sits slouched on his head, and he has muscles, but they are not some obscene or ridiculous size, it is like they are just there, like he was born that way and everyone just accepts it. I guess the therapist is here, I didn’t even see her walk in. What is wrong with me? I’m not lusting after this new guy, I am not even imagining what is under his black straight leg jeans or taking him home, it is like a puppy that you want to grab up and snuggle, and yet it is also like seeing your best friend that you love unconditionally and can’t hide your excitement seeing them. I can’t pretend I don’t find him hot though, so it must be lusting, yet it seems like so much more.

He talks to the group, and his voice is just slightly higher than you would expect, for some reason it makes me worse, I don’t know why. He has 3 months now, I am proud of him even though I don’t even know him. An hour has passed, only half that time left and I’ve been secretly watching him whenever I can, he laughs sometimes, but it is more like a snort, I feel like I’m writing a fucking cheap romance novel in my own head, and I am a teenager who has no idea what love is, or has never seen a damn attractive person before this moment. I feel it, this is not good, I feel the shivering and the ache coming back to me, I didn’t take any medication today and It is back; or it never left. I have the sickness still, why do I have to have this now? Why did I have to find out that I have the flu when I am just trying to enjoy a meeting and especially when this boy is next to me? It is almost over, I won’t see him again possibly, I might never see him again, I hate this. Why can’t I just know if he will be back next week? Or if he will go to any other meetings of mine? Or come to my café, something, anything. I can’t let him go, I can’t let him leave me, not like this, not alone and without any goodbye or I’ll see you again. I haven’t even said word to him, so he doesn’t know I exist except right here and right now; I don’t even know if he likes girls or boys, but it doesn’t matter, I just want him to be near me again. It is over, we are closing up , he can’t leave, what do I do? He is drinking a cup of coffee, I could tell him to come to my café maybe? No, there is only one way I know he will take a part of me with him. When he isn’t looking and no one else is either, I first wipe my own mouth, then place my saliva along with anything else inside it on his cup, right where he will have no choice but to unknowingly have a part of me in his own body. He takes a drink before he even leaves the room, It was perfect. I don’t feel anxious now, at least not at the moment. I don’t know why I did what I did, and I certainly don’t understand the lack of guilt, but I actually feel good, I feel confident in myself, I feel strong! I feel like it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of me, I feel, I feel normal.

_____________

It has been a week, and I feel like it is the best week I’ve had in as long as I can remember. I am wearing the boots and jacket I got last week, I love them and I'll be damned if this jacket doesn't look amazing on me! I am home, I am happy and safe, and I heard some news at my meeting tonight that put a smile on my face. Harrie had a discussion with me about his rough week with his job and brought up that someone I might have met, a young man named Porter who has three months and comes to group sometimes caught some rare flu that progressed into pneumonia, he has been in the emergency room for 4 days now, and it doesn’t look good, his throat is closed up and his body is failing him. His immune system, probably from the opiates isn’t as strong as most, and he’ll be lucky to make it to next week. I'm not scared, no one would accuse me, no one even knew of what I went through. And now, Porter will always have a part of me with him, I wish the roles could be shared, but it is perfect this way.

I was wrong before, thank god I was, and it was just my anxious thoughts telling me lies. I did find someone and they didn't leave me, I WAS good enough and I always will be, I don't need to worry of them growing bored with me, I am finally enough.

#the flu #sickness