#In about Eight hours save me from the void? literally not my experience. I just don't have a uterus

[sbnkalny]

You don't have a uterus, where did it go AAAAAAHHHHH aaaaaaaaahhhh AAHHHHHHH i fucking love horses..... so much..... save me......

#TEXT #DAY 8 #In about Eight hours save me from the void? literally not my experience. I just don't have a uterus #where did it come from?? ty ily. I once saw a real-life ghost in broad Daylight? didn't think so. I fucking love horses..... so much..... s

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Death Note

I’m watching this show specifically because of that text post that said, “Watch how quickly this one guy decides to be the worst person ever” and he has killed two people in the first ten minutes

Though 2 be fair he’s killing people to save people so it’s a trolley problem kind of thing for now

“In fact I’ve been waiting for you... Ryuk” ok weird flex Light but u do u

“You’re the first one to use to this extent in five days” WAIT DID HE MURDER ALL THOSE PEOPLE IN FIVE DAYS I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST LOOKING AT A LIST OH MY GOD??

“So there isn’t a price to using Death Note?” said Light, as if killing people is just a normal thing that we all do

Fhkjfhfkjb Ryuk really went ‘u used the book so we’re friends now’ 

I was wondering why the book was in English, and I guess that makes sense British and American imperialism really Did That

“I can write down the names of criminals, and slowly reduce the number of evil people” uhhhh doesn’t u being a Book Murderer also make you a criminal Light

“Human lives shouldn’t be taken so lightly” bah dum tss

Also I guess that revelation lasted about thirty seconds for you huh

Update from 15 seconds later: Even less than that

“I would create a world of earnest, kind humans” really because I don’t think places that allow the death penalty are generally nicer societies 

It’s interesting that they use English in the classes and the notebook but the conversation at Interpol takes place in Japanese (despite the implied internationality and Ryuk’s aforementioned claim about English being most common) 

Huh I won’t lie I do think it’s confusing that the main characters are L and Light, which also starts with L

“I am justice” I mean if anything this show just proves that no one should be allowed to use the death penalty on apprehended suspects in criminal justice cases ever 

OH SHIT PLOT TWIST HIS DAD’S A COP (IT WAS IN THE TEXT POST I THINK BUT I FORGOT)

Wow this show is full of mind games already I guess I can see why like, crime show fans would dig it

“But I’m going to say this as your roommate” OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES KJHRGKJHKJHG

Interesting that someone is following Light specifically already

I mean not to poke too many holes in your plan Light but wouldn’t it clash with your plan to become God if you die at like 35 or smth 

“You’re already much more of a shinigami than they are” Ryuk said my friends are BORING I want to hang out with this MURDER TEEN

“I may not look it, but I’m pretty popular” Light is exactly the kind of guy who ends up in a true crime special where a bunch of people say he seemed like a nice, charismatic young man

Man this poor girl that Light brought on this date is going to be straight traumatized after this

I mean isn’t it MORE suspicious if someone dies around someone with direct ties to the police even if it’s not a heart attack

“You were indeed a brilliant FBI agent once, but now you’re my fiancée” kjhfkjhg WHAT FBI AGENTS CAN’T BE MARRIED 

“Once we have a family, you’ll be so busy that you’ll forget that you were an agent” I’m not a fan of Raye Penber 

What’s the point in killing Raye at all???? He told you he was part of a special investigation so clearly he’s not that suspicious of you

Light sure is bold to announce his Killing People Experiments in the middle of a busy sidewalk 

Incredible that consistently no one notices Light’s increasingly threatening declarations????

Fjkfkfhk these five cops finding out their Hail Mary is this strange little goblin man,,,, wow

This woman has really pushed Light to the brink just by giving a fake name, I admire her tenacity

Cops wearing fake IDs really did not age well oh boy

SERIOUSLY HOW DOES NO ONE EVER HEAR LIGHT SAYING SUSPICIOUS THINGS IN PUBLIC THOROUGHFARES HE LITERALLY JUST SAID “I AM KIRA” AS A DETECTIVE WALKED BY, WHILE HE WAS TALKING TO SOMEONE HE KILLED IMMEDIATELY AFTER

Wow it really took only eight episodes for L to track Light as close as one of two families

“You have a wife and daughter, right?” “I know!” I mean..... not 2 be that guy but... cops

 “To me, apples are like... Well, like cigarettes and liquor to humans” Vcvhcjhj every once in a while Ryuk says something that really tickles me

I know the word sociopath is kind of outdated but man does Light have actual interests outside of school or does he just do stuff to fill the void of his lack of interests (outside of murder)

JKHGKJHGKJHKJHG I cannot believe that this has turned into a fake classmate situation first of all 1) are you going to become friends and 2) How old are you Ryuzaki/L?

“Where is that rich kid from? And he’s even at the top of his class? What a jerk” honestly a mood

I DESPERATELY want Light’s mother or sister to overhear his evil cackling will someone finally eavesdrop on this god complex

“If I sit normally, my reasoning skills drop by 40%” weird flex but same 

Sidenote: I can’t believe how many episodes of this show I already have watched

Ngl I was VERY shook that Mr. Yagami had a heart attack. Also does Light care if his family lives or dies or is he kind of neutral on the subject? 

“If Kira is an ordinary person who gained this power, then he is a very unlucky person” Dad and L said ‘if u ARE Kira could you please stop murdering thank you <3′ 

Light really underestimated how much cops hate anyone who has killed a cop oops

OH SO IT’S NOT LIGHT I WAS WONDERING WHY HE HAD NOT MADE AN APPEARANCE THIS WHOLE EPISODE U MEAN THERE ARE TWO GUYS WITH THIS EXACT SAME IDEOLOGY AND PLAN? INCREDIBLE

Update from ten seconds later: Two people, I guess

Well this explains the girl in the short dress which serves as the Netflix thumbnail of this show I was wondering when she would show up 

Also she sounds like she’s very young? Clearly Shinigami don’t have a minimum age of informed consent when it comes to their Murder Eyes Contract 

Hahah I bet Light didn’t imagine that his petty and fucked up apple joke would bite him so quickly in the ass

Dhkjdhdkjhd Misa is so bold dropping her Death God deets in a video for anyone to see 

“The way to kill a Shinigami, is to make them fall in love with a human” does this mean that Ryuk is going to fall in love with Light or Misa? Both would make me uncomfortable

Oh wild guess Misa became a Death Note Wielder through the Power of Unreciprocated Voyeuristic Love

“Yeah, I have a girlfriend now,” said Light, after a girl contacted him through a series of anonymous video tapes implicitly vowing to be his disciple 

“No one could tell who he’s attached to if I’m with this many people” [20 seconds pass] “Found him!” HAHAHA the funniest part of this show is consistently watch Light going “got ‘em” before it immediately is revealed that he doesn’t got ‘em 

Why is Light so incredibly searchable??? I think the only way people people could find my height online is if I happened to answer it for one of those Facebook note memes in 2007 lmaoooo

“There are many places that will go and sell your personal records” ah, data breaches; a problem that has not gotten any better in the last 15 years since this anime came out

HKJHFHKJFHF Light immediately jumping into fake-dating his weird disciple in front of his mom... what is this show

“Please make me your girlfriend” OH MY GOOOOOD

This is one of the weirdest romantic dynamics I’ve seen in recent memory but you know what? Whatever, at least it’s not Anxiety and Murder

“Does that mean I’ll have to deal with her until she dies?” Light is truly exuding some Ladybird Book of Dating Energy rn: 

The fact that to kill L all Light had to do was get an obsessive girlfriend... astounding

Beautiful that it took Misa less than a week of knowing Light to ruin his whole 15 episode game plan and also life

“I think I may be Kira” Well this show keeps taking one escalation after another this is exhausting why can’t Light just be a normal person who found it, tried it out of interest in the occult, discovered he’d committed a horrible atrocity and then went to therapy for the rest of his life only to confess to Magical Murder on his deathbed while his family goes, ‘Wow, Grandpa’s crazy’

Does L not think that keeping three different people imprisoned for days on end will lead to some psychological repercussions for him

FOR WEEKS ON END????? OH MY GOD???? The fuck L, I know two of these people are murderers but there are some minimum conditions of correctional facilities and this seems a little Stanford PE

THE DRAMA OF THIS EPISODE I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE A BLANK BUT HOW FUCKED UP TO PUT EVERYONE THROUGH THIS L I THINK YOU NEED THERAPY!!!!!!! I MEAN LIGHT AND MISA ARE MURDERERS BUT FORCING A MAN TO HOLD HIS SON AT GUNPOINT AFTER IMPRISONING THEM FOR OVER A MONTH IS REALLY A REFLECTION OF A COMPLETE LACK OF EMPATHY (especially when you think that this version of Misa and Light don’t know anything!!! Oh my god!! The fuck)

“I will make arrangements so you and I are together 24 hours a day” call me crazy but I would not want to spend 24/7 with the man who imprisoned me for over a month while playing cruel psychological games all the while

“I’m one of those people who’ll accept Kira, I’d think of ways I could help him” Misa said Bimbo Rights

“I could never toy with a woman’s emotions like that” Light’s dating life and personality has gotten a LOT funnier since he forgot he was a murderer I kind of wish THIS could be the whole show 

Also: Nice to know Light USED to have standards of how to treat women

Honestly fair play to both L and Light they both deserved to be punched and it’s funny to see eighteen episodes of mind games culminate in punching and kicking each other in the face

“Matsuda’s being an idiot again” “Well, Matsuda is a natural at that” wghkjhgkj what has Matsuda done to any of you

"He’s punishing criminals as a front, and killing people for the benefit of this company” is Light unknowingly going to solve the murder chain he himself started... inspiring

“I was testing you” this is why Light is your only friend, L, Aizawa has kids and it’s a dick move to ask him to put his convictions before them

Poor Matsuda realizing he’s got the least to offer to their team... me in high school science labs 

I understand Aizawa’s moral crisis but why do NONE of these cops care about their wives or daughters they’re just kind of like, ‘I will provide for you but I have no interest in or fulfillment from being part of your life’ (ACAB)

Matsuda is truly about to die for being dumb and eager to help 😔 Rest in Pieces

“We must not allow Yotsuba to figure out that we are investigating them,” said L, just after it cut from Matsuda being obvious about investigating them. Oh Matsuda 😔 you’re so bad at your job 😔

MATSUDAAAAAAAA oh thank goodness; Bimbo Rights save the day

“I can’t go along with your idea, it’s wrong!” said Light, despite the fact it took him 15 seconds to get over murder the first couple of times he did it 

Staaaaaaaaay Good Light, I don’t want ur Deathnotesona I want this young man with moral convictions!!

The level of hubris it takes to answer a phone call during your secret Murder Meeting while people continue to talk about their Murder Plans is just out of this world

“If I die, you could probably become the successor to the ‘L‘ name,” said L, to the person he has been trying to catch for twenty episodes 

“I won’t say anything under any kind of torture” “Yes that’s true” Which he knows because he tortured her for six weeks!! You see that that’s fucked up, L, right? RIGHT??? RIIIIIIIIGHT? (LIIIIIIIGHT???)

Seriously not to beat a dead Shinigami but Light is so much better like this. He doesn’t want to throw people’s lives away for the investigation! He wants to protect Misa! He thinks Kira is wrong! Why does he have to be a murderer!!! Why can’t this show be about a nice young man!!!!

“Hey Ryuzaki, that’s messed up!” THANK YOU LIGHT AGAIN I KNOW YOU BOTH HAVE KILLED PEOPLE BUT YOU DON’T KNOW THAT RIGHT NOW SO FOR ALL MISA KNOWS HE’S JUST A GUY WHO TORTURES HER AND TELLS HER CRUSH WILL DIE IF SHE DOESN’T HELP

Wow Rem is so ride or die for Misa protecting Misa from creepy Higuchi, giving her info and telling her to trust Light, that’s love bitch

Props to Misa for getting a confession out of Higuchi after one (1) car ride 

Why do I feel like L is going to be responsible for reawakening Bad Light is it because he psychologically tortured him for six weeks? Had his dad hold him at gunpoint? Forced Misa to investigate on his behalf? Constantly and unerringly presses him on what Kira would be thinking as he’s handcuffed to him 24 hours a day? Maybe!! This is like Build-a-Bear but he’s customizing his Teen Murder Friend 

“Only Mr. Matsuda can do [the mission to lure out Higuchi!Kira]” Death Note really said the Himbos, Herbos and Thembos shall inherit the Earth 

They keep saying they don’t know how he kills but it seems pretty obvious that he writes down their names to kill, they literally saw him do it

I really don’t want any of the investigation team to die but things are not looking hot :(

“Ryuzaki, I never knew you could fly a helicopter” “It’s just intuition” what does that MEAN

“Those aren’t allowed in Japan,” said Light, about a gun, as if he had not killed probably thousands of people without one 

In spite of this fact I really do want Good Light to stay 😔 Why! Can’t! This! Show! Be! About! A! Nice! Young! Man!

Also they really are playing into this father-and-son duo I will be very sad when the dad inevitably dies as I’m sure he will 

Family side note: I’ve been wondering this since the prison ep but where do Light’s mom and sister think he IS now that he’s dropped out of first year uni to be a teen criminal investigator handcuffed to a maladjusted homebody private eye

AIZAWAAA and also the other two guys I guess there was a plot relevant reason for him to rejoin the police huh

Well what a clean ending to this Kira arc. No one died and the killer was caught! Yikes that the next ep is called ‘Revival’ tho 😔 Rest in pieces Good Light

Also a new and very threatening intro???? What happened to the Twilight Apple Hands 

BOOOO I knew Light would get his memory back but I was hoping it would at least fuck him up for a while he sorted out his two personas but I guess all roads eventually lead to Bad Light 

Full disclosure I stopped watching for a few days just after Light got his memory back and let me tell u coming back later hasn’t made it any more tolerable I am truly not built for this EUGH

“Do you really want to halve your life a second time” “Well, that can’t be helped” REALLY???? CAN’T IT BE HELPED MISA??? WHY ARE YOU AND LIGHT SO CRAZY

Oh I guess we’re back to Light saying incredibly suspicious things right near the investigators lmao what if those cameras secretly had audio or you know, L simply knew how to read lips 

“Misa, let’s make a new world together” Remember a bunch of episodes ago when Good Light was all ‘I could never toy with a woman’s emotions’?? What was the reason!!!

“Have you ever told the truth at any point in your entire life” L cutting straight to the core lmao (also the answer is obviously ‘no’)

This show has taken a jarring tonal shift why are they having a post-rain-confrontation massage and towelling each other off this is a level of intimacy I was not prepared for I NEED PEOPLE TOOK LOOK AT THIS:

OKAY OKAY OKAY I KNOW THAT IT WAS PROBABLY NOT THEIR INTENTION BUT THE ONLY WAY I CAN READ THIS SCENE IS AS “Don’t kill me Light~ 🥰 I’ll fuck you~ 🥰” 

I guess L knew he was forcing Rem’s hand to kill him if he disproved the rules written in the book?? But to what end omg how does this help anyone 

“In April 2012, Light Yagami, age 23, joins the National Police Agency” should’ve known we’d land here eventually (ACAB)

Ah, I see another person who doesn’t know how to sit, clearly they will inherit the L title next lmao

Update from the first few mins of the next ep: “Near should succeed L” told you

“There’s no way I’m letting Sayu marry a detective” ahjfkhkjf he’s a little old for her I think but it wouldn’t be the worst thing this show has done romantically lmao; maybe Sayu would get to investigate her brother

“I might’ve considered going out with you, if you were a little younger” HA GOOD FOR HER

“[...] the Japanese police are unreliable. In order to solve this case, we want you to hand over the notebook to our country.” Of all the Japanese-speaking Americans in this show, this is the most accurate jkhfkhf the US government really is Like That 

Ah, so that’s where Mello’s gone, oh how the turn tables 

Also way to sell your subordinates out immediately, NPA Director, will you give them the Kira task force’s home addresses too

The real question is if Light actually cares about his sister enough to prioritize her over the notebook

“Call me... N” Oh my good L... M(ello)... N(ear)... Oooooooooooooooo

It’s my saving grace that I only need to get through 9 more eps but as always I must wonder where this is going will Light just die and end up in Shinigami purgatory while the people who knew him after the fact go, ‘hey, that guy was fucked up’

“If things get bad, I’ll have to kill Sayu” well I guess that answers that question, my expectations of Light are so low and yet he continues to find new ways to be awful

Good for Mr. Yagami and Sayu for getting out of that alive I guess but hoo boy I think this is going to have some psychological repercussions for both of them 

Uh oh this episode is called ‘Father’ I’ve been dreading this one bc I think that means Mr. Yagami is about to die 😭😭😭

“It was an institution for brilliant children, to raise them to become L‘s successor” okay calm down Professor Xatari that’s not what children are for lmao 

Well I guess it’s a lot easier to track down info about these two guys than it was to figure out L lmao

HAHAHA Sidoh haunting Ryuk to ask for his stuff is a fun addition to this madness  

“He’s scary for a human” jkhhfjh how unhinged does Mello have to be to threaten a literal Shinigami 

I truly don’t understand the logistics of how they revealed Ryuk to the police force isn’t the second Kira notebook supposed to belong to Actual Kira, in the police force’s eyes????? I do not understand how Light can just turn up with another notebook and everyone’s like ‘sure cool’ did I miss something 

Mr. Yagami killed for being unable to take human life ugh this is the worst 

“You’re not Kira. I’m really glad.” WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO SAD MR. YAGAMI NOOOOOOOOOO THAT’S WHY HE RENOUNCED OWNERSHIP OF THE NOTEBOOK 

Neither Mello nor Near seem overly concerned with the lives of people around them does being a Super Genius Investigator also mean you have to be a dick (is this Benadryl Coddleswab Sherlock syndrome)

Lmaooo genuinely love how it’s constantly apparent that Light is the least smart of all of the smart people Light spent five years working on his reputation and it took Near one (1) phone call to destroy it 

Ghjkhgkhgkgjh Light outsmarted by Near yet again never think people will prioritize principles over money

Lol yeah Aizawa needn’t have given a name after he said the “Deputy Director Yagami would kill Kira and then himself” thing, you don’t do that just for anyone who was he fooling 

How does Light keep track of all the renunciations and notebooks bc I certainly can’t 

Ffhkfjhfj Mikami truly looks like the son of L and Light it’s like Light missed him and was like, “Miss u boo :( (even tho I kinda killed u) I’ll adopt An Evil 27-year-old in ur honour :)”

Is Mikami’s story really, ‘I got bullied in high school and have mommy issues so now I think people I don’t like should die’ ok Shonen Snape 

“I just want you to meet with me and hear me out” Light really proving to Aizawa that he can lie AND manipulate people’s feelings 

“The truth is, she’s not smart enough to be my partner” first of all Light I think this show has proven you’re not that smart, and Misa’s Herbo Energy is effervescent and will outlast you, and third of all go to jail

“He’ll look suspicious if he doesn’t say something soon” “Ide, have you ever been in love” Matsuda continues to be the only good part of this show

“You’re the only man I’ve ever respected and admired in my life” GET SOME THERAPY KIYOMI

“You’re going to be the goddess of the new world” so it’s not enough for Light to be a murderer he must also be a cheater

Lmao Near’s powers of perception do seem a little B/BC S/herlock because L tried for literally months to work out the possibilities and Near is just like ‘I KNOW IT NOW’

“The only thing I can deduce from this is that Light Yagami is popular with the ladies” HEAVEN KNOWS WHY (PUN NOT INTENDED)

Every moment Aizawa gets closer to proving Light is Kira is another step closer to death 😔

“This is definitely Mikami’s handwriting” Not to be a know-it-all, Near, but handwriting analysis has been proven faulty many times in multiple courts of law

This truly is a game of Cat and Cat. All these hidden plans give me a headache fkjhkfjh call me Misa-Misa and spin me sideways I don’t have the braincells to spare

Well this is definitely some kind of s*xual assault absolutely fucking hate it wow this show truly just drains the life out of you 

“Matt, I never thought you would be killed” why wouldn’t you think that at this point anyone who comes close to this investigation eventually dies (also wjkhkjhgk why is Matt special didn’t you kill all those thugs you had before -- Mello said ‘the lives of my allies are only important if they are drawn in handsome protag style’) 

As of yet I haven’t really talked about Near’s wild toymaking but hoo boy is that L finger puppet something to observe

“Everyone who knows about the existence of the notebook will die” I’m still pulling for their survival, particularly Matsuda (himbo rights!!!)

Imagine if they just shot Light Yagami on sight how ironic would that conclusion to all these mind games be 

“I’m waiting, for the one who will solve everything, to arrive” Lmao if it turns out L is alive I’ll pee laughing this show is so fucking stupid 

Take a shot every time there is a Humpty-Dumpty-in-Puss-in-Boots style explanation about how everything actually happened

“I’ve won, Near” I bet/hope what gets Light caught is his inability to hold in his hubris for one (1) minute

Although the last episode is called New World, in which case maybe he wins in a very weird ending to a very weird show

Sjkfhkjhfkhfkjhf well I guess what gets Light caught is that the person he invited to be his murderous disciple keeps calling him God

“A second ago, you said ‘I win.’ That’s as good a confession as any” HA hubris strikes again also bold of Aizawa to clap Light on the shoulder knowing he is a mass murderer

Ohhh Matsuda he’s so nice and believed the best of Light :((((((((((((

Watching Light become increasingly desperate and crazed is very uncomfortable give it up dude u’ve been beat (though I suppose there is time for everyone here to be murdered still lmao)

LMAO LIGHT SAID “IF YOU CAN’T BEAT ‘EM, CONVERT ‘EM”

Yeah I figured if one of them was gonna shoot it would be Matsuda :( :( Good for him for not killing Light tho!!

Huh I guess that’s the end of the show I thought Light would die but I did think we’d at least get to see him in Shinigami Purgatory or smth... what a wild ride. This certainly was a show.

#ayesha talks anime #ayesha liveblogs dn #liveblogging #long post #sorry for any dn fans who stumble across this lmao i don't have the constitution for it

[kassies-take]

Super Shadowed

Warning: Angst

Danvers sister x b!danvers

Word Count: 2342

Part 1 || Finale

The day Krypton exploded Kal-El was sent to Earth and so was Kara Zor-El. What people didn’t know was that another member from the House of El was also sent to Earth. You were only eight when Krypton exploded, due to your smaller frame you crawled into the leg space as Kara sat in her seat.

When the pod got knocked off course from Krypton’s debris, Kara shielded your eyesight from seeing its destruction. You could tell she was scared too but she was doing her best to be the older sister.

There was only one time you woke up in the Phantom Zone and that was the most alone you’ve ever felt with Kara asleep, then you realized it has always been this way. You didn’t know how long you were awake. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days or even years. All you knew was that Fort Rozz was just out the window and that your life was going to be spent with Kara in a pod.

Earth was a whole different experience. If Kara was quiet you were quieter. This worried Kara, you were always the energetic bubbly kid sister, but she understood after losing a planet full of family and friends, it was difficult. You were both told to keep your powers hidden and only you kept true to those words. When your powers manifested you didn’t use them as much as Kara did.

While Kara was so hell-bent on being a hero you wanted nothing more than to be seen as a regular human. You were always overshadowed on Krypton and the moment Kara came out as Supergirl it all came back to you. How Alura favored Kara, how you were always babied by Eliza, Kara and even Alex, and ultimately how literally empty it felt to be in the Phantom Zone. Only Krypton and Earth were lonelier.

You made it clear to Alex and Kara that you didn’t want to be some hero. But that didn’t stop the three of you from being three peas in a pod. You and Kara fought over food, you and Alex teased Kara with her taste of music and there was never enough room on Kara Danver’s couch when you visited from school.

While Kara followed in Clark’s footsteps to be a journalist and reporter you put your mind to technology. After high school you went to M.I.T and received a job offer by Lena Luthor herself once you graduated.

Kara only managed to convince you to strap on the cape when she fell downhill with the whole I sent Mon-El away and now he’s married. Your suit was the same blue but the yellow and red were white and that was really when Superfriends knew of you at all.

“There’s another Danvers sister!” Winn beamed.

“(Y/N),” you introduced.

“T-that’s very human,” Winn stared at Kara

“(Y/N), abandoned her Kyptonian name. Kasa Zor-El.”

“Because Krypton is not here anymore!” You scoffed at the stares you received before you threw in the towel and flew away from Kara’s apartment.

Kara flew after you as you hovered over the city skyline.

“Kasa,” Kara pleaded with concern.

“Stop Kara, that’s isn’t my name!”

“Yes it is. This is how you keep Krypton alive. I get it, I really do. You had a life there, family, friends. But it’s been fifteen years, and on the way here I lost you.”

“I had no friends or family on Krypton!” You snapped.

“W-What are you talking ab-”

“I-I’m not talking about blood Kara. I had family yes but ieiu (mom) favored you, Aunt Astra loved you, Earth even loves you. I felt and still feel awuhkh (abandoned).” You said it in Kyptonese knowing it had more effect on Kara.

Kara’s face only fell in sorrow as she looked at you with pity. Something you definitely didn’t need.

“Kar, this is why I didn’t tell you. I don’t need your pity, especially after I told you.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got like this. You use to be so bright and cheery.”

“Nice to know I’m dark and moody,” you rolled your eyes and flew off towards the Fortress of Solitude.

“That’s not what I meant (Y/N)!” Kara screamed after you on your tail.

“KARA! YOU WEREN’T AWAKE. YOU DIDN’T SEE WHAT I SAW!” You landed in the snow

“What are you talking about?”

“The Phantom Zone,” you sighed. “I sat in our pod and looked into the empty void. At first I was afraid, but with Kryton’s debris around I realized that the empty void I stared at was just a reflection of my life on Krypton and now on Earth,” You eyes filled with tears and so did Kara’s.

“I didn’t know you felt that way ie (sister).”

“I’ve tried Kara. I’ve tried to go back. Krypton was my planet but it wasn’t my home. I don’t think I can stay here anymore. I’ll help you with your problem but I need to find my home.”

Kara pulled you into a hug, one that if your DNA didn’t hold Kryptonian DNA would surely break your bones.

Apparently Kara and Alex thought it would be a good idea to head to Barry’s Earth for his wedding. Kara thought meeting the whole gang would help you find a home within yourself, Alex just wanted you there cause despite your powers you were still her little sister.

Having seen the way Kara’s friends adored Kara made it worse. During the rehearsal dinner as Kara reconnected with her friends and Alex drank the night away, you were nowhere to be seen.

You sat over the edge of Jitter’s roof with your lead lenses glasses twirled in your hands. Yellow lighting appeared with a gust of wind behind it.

“So how do you know Barry or Iris?” A voice came behind you.

“Barry, when he went to Earth-38 and helped my sister.”

“Ah so you’re the famous Kasa Zor-El,” the voice approached you.

“(Y/N),” you turned to your right side.

“Wally,” he sat next to you. “I know that look, it’s the look of being in the shadows.”

You looked at Wally questionably as he continued.

“You have the same powers or you’re even better than the hero yet people only see you as the sidekick. You have powers yet people still see any threat as something you can’t handle. You try your hardest but will always remain number two a second option if their hero is gone.”

“I relate on a whole different level. I mean my Earth does not need another Super. Supergirl always saves the day,” you mimicked the tabloids.

You and Wally shared a good laugh or two as the person in the shadows. It felt nice to have someone you can relate too but as always the heroes need a babysitter for their hero work. That’s how you found yourself when Nazis stormed the church.

You and Wally were put on guarding duty.

“So what’s the game plan?” Wally asked with you trailing behind him.

“There is none yet. Whoever attacked us knows who we are, so just get Joe and Cecile as far as possible,” Barry explained.

“(Y/N), I want you to go with them,” Kara pleaded from the cortex entrance.

You looked between Kara and Barry.

“No way, we can help out,” you and Wally said together.

“You guys are helping by keeping our family safe,” Barry and Kara said in sync.

“They’re right, until we know what they’re planning, no one is safe,” Joe agreed.

Kara and Barry both gave a head nod as you and Wally sighed in defeat. Wally headed out with Joe first and as you prepared to leave you muttered a word of your feelings.

“Awuhkh, ” you said again before disappearing.

Though being a hero isn’t your forte, after the conversation you had with Wally you were not going to sit idly by while Nazis invaded Central City. It wasn’t your city but you did have the power and the knowledge to figure out what the Nazis wanted.

This was where you had more knowledge with than Kara. Now all you needed was a laptop or computer.

You connected to surveillance cameras of Star Labs to the screen and watched the process. Wally stood behind you as you both watched and pieced together the information given to you.

“Huh,” you laughed as Felicity found a location before a realization hit you that the prism they were after would mimic the red sun. “Oh crap.”

“What, What is wrong?” Wally asked.

“This prism can be altered to mimic the affects of the a red sun,” you explained.

“What does the red sun do?”

“Due to the yellow sun Earth has, Kryptonians are able to have different abilities. And the red sun gets rid of our powers, in short we will be humans.”

“So they’re trying to kill Kara?”

“But something isn’t making sense if they wanted to kill Kara they could just use Kryptonite.”

“Unless they’re making her body weak enough to cut her skin,” you physically snapped at Wally’s prediction and began typing.

The monitor zoomed into Alex with the Kryptonite arrow. Wally raised the volume at the previous recorded message with Earth X Kara having too much radiation

“Oh my god,” you froze.

“They’re using Kara as transplant.”

“And they just walked themselves into a trap.”

“You have to go,” Wally looked at you.

“What?”

“If Kara is going to be fighting herself there may be another version of you, I’ll stay here with Joe and Cecile. They need you more than they need me.”

“Godspeed Wally,” you patted him on the back before he pulled you into a hug.

“Go get em,” he smiled.

As you flew back to Central City what you planned on the way there was definitely a plan Kara Danvers wouldn’t like.

Getting through the Nazi soldiers that was the easy part, getting tthough to Kara X that was a different story. You walked towards Kara’s scared heart beat as you breathed in some confidence with what you were about to do.

You stood on the further side where the “red sun” couldn’t touch, you hid from Nazi soldiers that patrolled between the hallways before you headed towards the red room.

“It’s not going to work, you’re not going to get what you want,” you heard Kara say as you built up enough courage and walked towards the room.

“Really,” Kara X said and hovered over Kara

“Yes, really.” You’re own voice surprised you with how much power it had.

“Kasa,” Kara X stood in shock. “You died on Krypton!”

“In your universe maybe,” you stood your ground.

“And what. You’re going to stop me?” Kara X scoffed.

“No, I came for an offering.”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to do this!” Kara struggled to get out of her restraints.

“And what do you have to offer?”

“My healthy, younger heart in exchange for Kara and my friends freedom.”

You kneeled on your right leg with your right hand above your heart and your head slightly bowed. A Kryptonian promise.

“Kasa Zor-El! Don’t do this!” Kara was on the verge tears.

“Your sister died on Krypton, this way you will always have her with you,” you ignored Kara.

“I have to admit, normally I wouldn’t like such weakness but any warrior who faces their death with no fear is honorable,” Kara X beamed.

“She would’ve done the same for me.”

“Deal!”

As if on cue Thawne rushed in with Führer. Kara X and him shared a kiss before Thawne patted the gurney for Kara X to lay in.

“We’re going to need a new lab, I made a deal with my sister here,” Kara X pointed to you as Oliver and Thawne looked at you. “An exchange of her heart for her older sister’s freedom.”

“We don’t know if she’s a match,” Oliver growled.

“Do you dare defy me my husband?”

“No,” he puffed.

Thawne smiled “Don’t worry Kara Zor-El And Kasa Zor-El are practically twins.”

“Can the procedure be done on the Wellenreiter?” Oliver asked.

“With the prism it can be done anywhere.”

Kara X nodded, picked up Oliver and flew towards their version of the Waverider.

“Kara Zor-El ukiem, :zhalish. (Kara Zor-El I love you as my family, forgive me)”

You followed closely behind as Thawne smirked at Kara before he took the prism and disappeared. Kara still had the effects of the red sun in her system, she struggled harder and harder to release herself from the restraints as the leather dug into skin and drew drops of blood when Iris and Felicity entered the room.

“Kara,” Iris freed the restraints.

“W-where are the Nazis?” Felicity asked.

“Kara!” Alex threw the gun to the side and hugged Kara.

“Alex! They took her,” Kara cried. “They took (Y/N).”

Kara immediately wiped her tears and jumped onto the floor determined to get rid of her culture to save her sister. Only she has never felt as weak as she did at the moment as she collapsed onto her knees. She tried to get back up, the harder she tried the harder her body shook.

“Kara take it easy,” Alex held Kara once again.

“A-alex I c-can’t l-lose h-her,” Kara cried.

“I know, but if you go out there now. You will be killed!”

In that moment Kara finally felt you felt on Krypton, The Phantom Zone and even times on Earth. She hated it, she hated the lonely feeling even when the room was filled with friends and family, and she hated that you felt this way for you while life. A scream that rivaled the Canary erupted from Kara.

The whole room fell silent with goosebumps from Kara’s screams. No one has felt someone else’s pain as they did with Kara’s. It was the type of agonizing scream that puts any other thought on hold and drags everyone in a nearby vicinity into the same agony Kara was feeling. She lost her blood sister and felt guilty that you would never find the home you yearned for.

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #alex danvers x b!danvers #kara danvers x b!danvers #wally west #overgirl #dark arrow #reverse flash #crisis on earth x #flash #arrow #dc legends of tomorrow #arrorverse #baby danvers #supergirl imagines #supergirl imagine

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - seven

notes: updating rather quickly because i felt bad about the cliffhanger :) i really enjoy y’all’s feedback, so hit me up!!

contains: discussions of mental illness, angst

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

SEVERAL HOURS OF WAITING ON THE ROOF HAD PASSED BEFORE LOGAN SHOWED UP. Marin had stopped crying at some point, eventually began to breathe evenly despite the sharp pain pounding in her ribs every time she inhaled. Her wrist started to throb again and the skin was blooming with dark purple and blue bruises, growing yellow from the swelling.

Getting on the jet and walking back into the Institute was a haze; the last thing she remembered was climbing into her old bed and sinking her face into her pillow. She cried herself to sleep.

She barely got three hours of nightmare-plagued sleep before a pounding at her door woke her up. Without waiting for a response, her door flew open. Lucy was there, storming into her room, eyes quite literally on fire.

"Where the hell were you, Marin Frost?!" Lucy bellowed, flames erupting on her skin.

Despite the growing temperature of the room, Marin felt numb. She shrugged, laying her head back down and pulling her knees into her chest, burrowing into her comforter.

"Answer me!" Lucy continued shouting, to no avail. Eventually, she gave up and stomped right back out of Marin's room in a blaze of heated fury.

Only a minute or two had passed before someone knocked on her door again, except this time, it was gentler. Marin didn't bother looking up to know that it was James, Lucy's boyfriend.

"Marin," James said kindly, but Marin only screwed her eyes shut. James sighed. "Marin, we don't know exactly what happened that morning, but we understand why you left. Even if we aren't really showing it." He paused, presumably giving her the opportunity to speak. She didn't. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find us."

Marin was glad for James' respect, enough for him not to take a look into Marin's mind and find out for himself. She didn't move as she heard his footsteps recede, or when the door clicked shut behind him. She counted to ten before throwing the covers off of her.

She walked numbly into her bathroom, grabbed the plastic cup she kept on the sink and filled it with water from the tap. She guzzled down three cups before the ringing in her head finally stopped. She raised her eyes to the mirror above the sink.

The first thing she noticed was the large bruise on her cheek, slowly fading as the water she drank stitched together the broken blood vessels. Her eyes were tired, the dark brown of her irises dull and lifeless, and the delicately thin skin under them purplish-black with fatigue and stress. Her cheeks were hollowed, jaw pronounced by sunken jowls. She looked like shit. But at least her wrist didn't hurt anymore.

"Marin, please see me in my office." Professor Xavier's voice echoed between her ears, inducing a long-awaiting migraine and reactivating the tinnitus ringing. Chugging another cup of water for courage, Marin left her room, not bothering to put on a pair of shoes or socks.

It was early enough in the morning that the halls were nearly void of students, but the ones that did pass her gave her looks.

Marin felt a strong wave of déjà-vu as she pushed open the wooden door that separated Charles' office from the main hall.

Marin noticed Charles sitting in his hovering wheelchair by the window this time, eyes glazed and staring out at the bright green front lawn. Marin took the seat farthest from him, remembering the last time she visited his office.

"Did you know that I cannot read your mind?" Charles suddenly said, unprompted. Marin's eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Then why can you speak to me in my mind?"

Charles narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I should clarify that—it is not that I can't access your mind, I just simply can't access your memories."

Marin's eyes followed him as he moved behind her and to her other side, stopping his wheelchair barely a foot away from her chair.

"Which is why I had no other choice but to believe that you were the cause of your parents' deaths."

Marin tensed, waiting for him to lash out, or something equally as terrifying. But he never did. "I must tell you something, Miss Frost—a confession that has haunted me since I first made the decision to erase any recollection of you having other powers besides your hydrokinesis."

Marin blinked at him. "You what?"

Charles cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should start from the beginning, yes?" Marin just stared at him, and he took her reaction as an ‘okay’.

"Your grandmother was a mutant, Marin." What a hell of a way to break the ice, Professor. "She harnessed the ability to manipulate energy, from what research I could gather. However, she hadn't discovered her powers until long after she gave birth to her son, Jamie—your father—out of wedlock. Your grandfather wasn't an option for your grandmother, and, unable to raise a child on her own, she surrendered him to an orphanage—unaware of her own powers, or the genetics she'd passed along.

"Your father, we believe, was a telepath, much like James and I. But growing up virtually an orphan, with very little education or experience, he didn't recognize his symptoms as a result of his mutant genetics. When he was found talking to himself, around age eleven, he was kicked out of the orphanage out of fear that your father suffered from schizophrenia. He lived on the streets until he was nineteen, where he met your mother and fell in love.

"I'm assuming that once you were born, your father was already very paranoid, and tried to place a mental block on you, despite not knowing what he was doing. The inexperience and lack of control over his powers led to a somewhat permeable blockade, and thus the reason why I can still access your mind. I cannot read your mind, but I can project thoughts to you.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I knew this from the beginning, Miss Frost. I can only assume that as you grow older, your father's influence diminishes with the time that passes; and as of the past couple of months, if projected strongly enough, I'm able to access your dreams." At her suspicious glare, he chuckled. "Don't worry, I still can't read your thoughts just yet."

"That sounds fake but okay." She muttered under her breath. Charles flashed a hint of a smile, but otherwise said nothing of it.

"You have to understand, Marin, that I cannot determine for myself what happened the night your powers emerged." Charles began to look guilty, which surprised Marin slightly. "There is another matter, however, that I think needs to be addressed."

Marin looked expectantly at him.

"When you first arrived at the Institute, your powers were extremely unstable. They were like nothing we'd ever seen before, even by mutants that could manipulate energy, like Mary, or your grandmother." His face grew dark. "We assumed that you were experiencing symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after witnessing your parents' deaths, which was heightening your abilities.

"I should have learned my lesson after Jean, but even she agreed that the best thing to do was erase your memories of your other powers. They were far too dangerous, to yourself and the other students. And seeing them reemerge in the last five months has made me reexamine the ethicality of continuing to keep these powers from you."

Marin stared ahead into blank space. Somehow, she wasn't surprised—as if Charles telling her this was nothing new to her, it only opened her mind to memories long forgotten. But she'd have time to evaluate them later because Charles was still talking.

"So you're not going to make me forget again?" She looked to him, and he frowned.

"No. No, we're going to do what we should've done eight years ago. We're going to train you to control them." He nodded and swiveled his wheelchair to face her again. She didn't know when he'd turned away. "I know now that you aren't responsible for your parents' deaths, Marin. Your powers were not a cause of them, only a byproduct of whatever you witnessed."

Marin averted her gaze down to her hands, which had migrated into her lap.

"Why does everyone else think that I did?" She asked, her voice quiet and broken.

Charles sighed sorrowfully. "Naturally, I'd had to inform the other adults that run the Institute what circumstances you were found in. In my folly, I revealed to them what my conclusions were, and they, too, believed them, none-the-wiser. From there, it may have been overheard by some of the older students, and then spread from there. It also did not help that your decline in control over your powers was well-known amongst the students, and it wouldn't have been difficult to presume that the lies being spread were true."

Processing the heavy load of information being dumped on her, Marin didn't speak for a full thirty seconds. "Why didn't you just tell them you weren't sure? That you couldn't read my mind?" She eventually asked.

The Professor exhaled. "I believed that if it got out, there was someone whose mind I couldn't penetrate, it would've made you a target. Or, with your chaotic powers, it would have made you a potential weapon. At least, it was what I told myself, to save my reputation from scrutiny. Now, I know that it was entirely for selfish reasons, and I am truly sorry for that, as well, Marin." Charles looked sincere. For all the years that Marin had known the man, admitting his own faults was an extremely rare occurrence, and if he was admitting this now, she had little doubt that he was lying. It didn't make the truth any less painful, though. But Marin was tired of all of the negativity, and despite her better judgment, she found herself forgiving him.

"So what now?" Marin crossed her arms over her chest. "Everyone still thinks I killed my parents. Everyone still treats me as though I need to be avoided at all costs." She shook her head. "And after enduring that shit for nine years, I'm frankly fucking sick of it."

If the Professor was affected by her profanity, he didn't show it. (After all, he'd been around Logan's filthily explicit language for decades, now, and was unlikely to be fazed by anything Marin could come up with.)

"Then I believe an announcement is in order."

+++

Marin shuffled to her room that night, emotionally exhausted from the events of the day. Everyone seemed to believe Professor Xavier's claims that she was innocent, and some even approached her afterward to apologize for their less-than-friendly behaviors. Marin was grateful but ultimately disappointed to find that she didn't care as much for their forgiveness as she'd expected. All she could say was that her name was cleared among the mutants. But she found that it wasn't their forgiveness she wanted so desperately.

Right after his speech, Charles called her back into his office, where he began the process of returning the memories he'd kept covered. She spent hours sweating and writhing in his chair as he unveiled one memory right after the other, and by nine that evening, Marin's mind was her own again.

Walking into her bedroom felt different after. It seemed so much smaller, somehow, even though she'd only been out for half of a day. She filled a cup of water, silently mourning her reusable bottle left behind in her duffel bag, still at Peter's apartment. I wonder if he threw it out, she distantly thought. Marin didn't know what she hated more—having to leave before she could explain herself and leaving him to fear her like everyone else had, or knowing that keeping it a secret from him and Tony Stark was the worst thing she could have done, and condemning herself for doing it anyway.

While ruminating, her door opened. It was Lucy again, but this time, she looked calm, and even a bit regretful. "Can I come in?" She timidly asked in the doorway. Marin nodded, and Lucy stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Marin shifted on her bed so her back was supported by the wall, and curled her feet underneath her. Lucy hesitantly sat on the side of the bed, a couple of feet down. She didn't speak for a while, and Marin knew she was thinking of what to say, so she waited for her patiently.

"I'm sorry," Lucy eventually said, looking Marin straight in the eyes as she turned to sit crisscrossed directly facing her. "I'm sorry that everyone believed that shitty rumor—including me. I'm sorry for being a terrible friend, or not a friend at all when you clearly needed someone on your side." What Marin liked about Lucy was that she didn't turn on the theatrics, she didn't blubber and beg for Marin's forgiveness like some others had. But she was rubbing at her wrists, a nervous habit Marin recognized, surprised though because it was a very rare sight. "What I'm trying to say, is that I was wrong about you. In more ways than just your past."

Marin raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Lucy exhaled through her nose. "I thought you were a reckless, walking dumpster fire, to be honest. With how you constantly acted out—whether it was by disobeying orders to go play hero or refusing to take group training seriously. You're terrible at working in a team, you always used your powers way too often and for the stupidest things, too, and you skipped school so you could go study by yourself. You stole food and hogged the computers, you hated sharing, and you—"

"Okay, I get it." Marin cut her off, growing annoyed.

"I was getting there." Lucy snapped at her impatience. "Marin, I thought you were the worst kind of mutant. Like another Logan or young Cyclops—because we've all heard those stories from Jean—but you're not. You're selfless and principled, and sure, your social skills leave a lot to the imagination, but you're good." Lucy's lips curled into a small, gentle smile. She shook her head, amusedly. "You're not a good mutant, Marin Frost, but you're a hell of a great superhero."

Marin was stunned into silence. Of all the people in Marin's life, Lucy Webb was the last person she expected to say something so nice and genuine. Marin couldn't find the words to respond, but it was fine since apparently Lucy wasn't finished.

"I mean—you're still kind of a shitty superhero, but you've got potential. You definitely need to work on your people skills, and—oof—"

Marin threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Lucy. Though she still rankled to think about the times when Lucy had reprimanded her, hearing such praise now was more than enough for Marin to forgive her. Lucy laughed, hugging her back. They pulled apart after a few seconds.

"And, for the record, I'm sorry for what I said that day." Lucy mentioned sheepishly and didn't need to elaborate for Marin to know what she was referring to. "It was unfair of me and totally uncool—not to mention very unprofessional to say in front of such a young audience."

Marin smiled at the mention of Mary. She made a mental reminder to say hi to the young girl when she got the chance.

"Apology accepted."

"Good." Lucy nodded once, and stared at her for a moment, thinking. "Now... wanna tell me where you've been the past two weeks?"

Marin sighed. With how much she'd yet to unpack herself, she figured that she could use an extra mind. "So, I went back to Queens, right? And the superhero I met from the night in April, Spider-Man, had this really fancy new suit..."

+++

"Well, shit." Lucy said about an hour later. She propped her head up with her hand as she laid on her stomach next to Marin on the bed. "And you really went to D.C.?"

Marin rolled her eyes. "Is that really all you're getting out of all that?"

Lucy waved her hand flippantly. "Nah, I'm just thinking out loud."

"Well, what do I do?" Marin groaned, thumping the back of her head against the wall. "Those weapons dealers are still out there, probably making more alien weapons."

"Well, you said the FBI showed up at the ferry, right?" Lucy wondered. "So don't you think that, knowing they've got the feds on their tail, they plan on laying low for a while?"

Marin pondered the idea. "No... after all, they didn't stop when Spider-Man caught onto them. If anything, they were just bolder than before."

"Yeah, but... no offense to your spider-boyfriend, but he's not exactly as intimidating at the FBI." Lucy pointed out. Marin remembered his conversation with Aaron Davis with a pang in her chest.

"Why does everyone think we're dating? He's not my boyfriend." Marin shook her head. "But I guess that's somewhat true, though it doesn't change the fact that I've got a really bad feeling about it."

Lucy nodded, studying the look on Marin's face. "But you want him to be?"

Marin looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You like him, don't you?" Lucy grinned knowingly. "You like Spider-Man!"

Marin scoffed. "Please. I've known him for all of two weeks." Her face dropped. "And besides, he thinks I killed my parents. There's no way that he'd want to be anywhere near me right now."

"Oh Mare," Lucy sighed sympathetically, and the nickname sent a new wave of pain into her heart.

"It's tomorrow, you know." She deflected. The space behind her eyes burned with the desire to cry. "The day they died." She sniffed wetly, hugging her knees to her chest. "It's been nine years. Nine years, Lucy. And it still feels like it was yesterday. I can still see my father—"

Lucy sat up, and crawled next to Marin, rubbing her back soothingly as the words got stuck in her throat. "I know, Marin." She shushed. When Marin had calmed down enough, Lucy told her, "My mom died when I was nine, you know."

Marin looked at her in shock. "Really?"

Lucy nodded, giving her an empathetic look. "Yeah. She was sick for a while, but it got really bad, towards the end." Lucy looked off into empty space. "She had a stroke when I was at school. I never said goodbye. When my dad came to get me and told me the news, that's when my powers erupted." She shook her head solemnly. "I was just lucky that no one was killed. My dad got the worst of it—he's blind in one eye because of me."

"Not because of you," Marin assured her. "Because of your powers. You aren't your powers, and you didn't do that to your dad. I promise."

Lucy smiled gratefully and sniffed a bit. She laughed. "God, being a mutant is real shit, isn't it?"

"Probably," Marin grinned. "But I think it's worth it sometimes."

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99​ @pushmeinablackhole​ @demi-starzak​ @-thatgirloverthere-​ @silver-winter-wolf  

#Avengers #The Avengers #avengers: infinity war #avengers endgame #spiderman #spider man #Spider Man: Homecoming #spiderman far from home #tempest #mysterio #My fic #my writing #tony stark #tom holland #tom holland imagine #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x oc #peter parker x original character #x-men #mutant rp #mutant #Iron Man #Robert Downey Jr #quackson

[rahirah]

via Barb's Place So before setting out on our Grand Canyon adventure, I of course checked the weather. Supposedly it was going to be highs in the 50s and lows in the 30s. Cold and rainy, with a small chance of snow on Friday, but we'd be back home by Friday, right? Right? (Wrong!) As You Know, Bob, the Grand Canyon Railway runs twice a day: one train leaves Williams at seven-thirty in the morning and returns at two-thirty in the afternoon, and the second one leaves at eight-thirty and returns at three-thirty. We were on the later train. Since the train trip takes about two hours, that meant that we'd be leaving Williams around six in the evening, and it would take about three hours or more to get back to Phoenix. After we told Kathy's mom about that, she decided that it would be better if we spent Thursday night in Williams instead, and drove back to Phoenix on Friday. That was fine with us. Unfortunately, the GC Railway Hotel, where we were to stay Monday night, was totally booked on Thursday. During the holidays, the railway does two Polar Express (TM) runs to the "North Pole" every evening, in addition to the two runs up to the Canyon and back in the daytime. So the hotel was completely packed with families running around in matching pajama sets, with kids chanting "I believe! I believe!" No worries, though – there are lots of hotels in Williams! Except Kathy's mom, for mysterious reasons, rejected all of them, because they did not explicitly advertise a free breakfast bar. Why she needed that when all she ever wants for breakfast is oatmeal and coffee, I do not know. We ended up making a reservation at a Days Inn in Bellemont, which is a flyspeck about twenty miles north of Flagstaff. MORE OF THIS ANON. When we got to Williams on Monday afternoon, it was reallyfuckingcold. No problem, right? We'd expected this! We'd brought coats and sweaters and boots. What we hadn't expected was Kathy's mom practically collapsing in the visitor's center. Turns out that she (elderly, ex-smoker, lived in sea-level Florida for the last thirty years) reacts REALLY BADLY to high altitudes. The slightest exertion sent her into palpitations. This more or less scotched our plans of walking around Williams and window shopping, so we got her to the hotel, and... it started snowing. Not raining, snowing. WELL THEN. About this time I started getting emails from places where I'd sent resumes, wanting to set up interviews. On the one hand, yay interviews! On the other, I really hadn't expected to get any responses this week. I had to reply and ask if we could please do it after I got back to Phoenix, and hope that didn't put them off doing it altogether, and then fret about them periodically. Everyone assured us that in a day or two, the MIL would acclimatize. In a day or two we'd be heading home, but whatever. In the meantime, we managed to borrow a wheelchair from the hotel to get her to the restaurant across the parking lot for dinner, because she literally couldn't walk ten feet without gasping for breath. MIL was deeply unhappy about this, as she is very active for a woman in her eighties. Maneuvering a wheelchair with an unwilling passenger across an unfamiliar ice-slick parking lot in a snowstorm is a fun adventure, lemme tell ya. The next morning it was still snowing. We got the MIL down to the train depot, and made the cardinal error of going to watch the Wild West gunfighter show. Wild West Hijinks (TM) which would be mildly amusing when the temperature is in the 70s are merely irritating when the temperature is in the 30s. I felt sorry for the performers, who not only had to stand in the slush, but roll around in it whenever they got shot. After standing in the sleet and slush for fifteen minutes (no one wanted to sit on the snow-covered metal bleachers) we (along with about half of the rest of the meager audience) left early to make sure we got on the train. Once we got MIL on the train, the ride was mostly fine. The scenery was beautiful. There were free snacks. The minute we got to the Canyon, we were bundled off the train and onto a tour bus. Unfortunately there wasn't much to see; the Canyon was entirely invisible, just a vast white snow-cloud void, and half the stops on the tour were canceled due to the snow. When we got back to our hotel, we ran into more mobility issues. We were staying in Maswik Lodge, the budget, i.e. one-step-up-from-the-campground lodge, which is a whole bunch of separate cabins. They had a wheelchair available, and the nice desk clerk asked if we'd like to change our cabin for a more accessible one. We said "Sure!" What the nice desk clerk failed to mention was that the more accessible cabin hadn't been cleaned yet, and it would take a full two and a half hours of us shivering in the freezing cold (I am not exaggerating – every time the lobby door opened, and it opened a lot, more snow blew in) lobby to get it cleaned. If we'd known that it would take that long, we would have said to hell with it and gone with the less accessible one. Finally we got to our cabin, turned on the heat, and thawed out a bit before having dinner at the Maswik food court. The following morning, we encountered the next challenge: getting the MIL anywhere outside the vicinity of the lodge was a nightmare. Since the wheelchair belonged to the Maswik, we couldn't take it with us if we wanted to visit any of the other lodges or points of interest. So that morning, Kathy and I went out by ourselves to look around and do some exploring. It was still snowing, the forest was a magical winter wonderland which I was too cold to properly appreciate, and I slipped and fell on the ice twice. It occurred to me later that I dodged a bullet, because in my current jobless state, I have no insurance, and had I really injured myself, I would have been really screwed. Luckily the only thing really hurt was my pride. We did get to see a few sights: El Tovar, Hopi House, the art gallery, etc. A lot of the tours and whatnot had been canceled due to the weather, but we still saw a few intrepid hikers. We wanted to eat at the steakhouse at Bright Angel Lodge on Christmas Eve, so we ended up walking the MIL out to the stop for the free shuttle in very careful installments. Unfortunately, we took the shuttle driver at his word when he told us we needed to transfer from the eastbound to the westbound shuttle to get where we were going. (It turned out that we could have just stayed on and gone all the way around.) This meant walking the MIL over a couple hundred yards of icy/snowy mud to yet another shuttle stop, and then, finally, getting her up the dozen or so stairs to the steakhouse parking lot. I was absolutely terrified that she'd fall and break a hip. Still, things were going pretty well until it came time to go back to our cabin. By now it was completely dark, the wind was blowing, the snow was pelting down, and it was well below freezing. We stood at the shuttle stop...and stood, and stood, and stood, with the wind cutting right through our coats and snow building up around us. It probably wasn't more than twenty minutes before the shuttle showed up, but it felt like hours, mainly because the MIL (who has zero patience even under optimal conditions) kept proclaiming that it was never going to come and she was going to die of the cold. Under the circumstances, we were not sure she wasn't right. Finally, the shuttle showed up, and we got her back to the cabin. At that point, Kathy and I realized that we had a further problem. We had reservations at El Tovar, the super-fancy lodge, for Christmas dinner. Since we were not staying at El Tovar, we hadn't been able to make the reservations until 30 days out (as opposed to the actual El Tovar guests, who were allowed to make reservations 90 days out.) This meant that by the time we could make ours, the only one available was at 8:45. The free shuttle only ran until 9:00. You see the dilemma. Not to mention that the steps up to El Tovar from the shuttle stop were like five times as high as the ones to Bright Angel, and the MIL had barely made it up those. Plus we really, really didn't want to go through another Freezing At The Shuttle Stop experience if we could help it. Luckily, at this point we had a "D'oh!" moment and noticed the taxi service in the brochure. They picked you up right at the door of your cabin, and took you right to the doors of the other lodges! Woohoo! We were saved! So through the Christmas miracle of Grand Canyon Taxi, we got the MIL over to El Tovar for dinner, and over to Hopi House to do some shopping the next morning before we left. And for a post-Christmas miracle, it stopped snowing on the 26th, so we were finally able to see the Canyon! Double woohoo! Thursday afternoon we took the train back to Williams, and Kathy and I parked the MIL in the depot gift shop while we went through the Exciting Adventure Mark II of finding our luggage (which was not where it was supposed to be) and digging the car out from beneath about six inches of snow. It had, of course, started snowing again on the train trip back, and the roads were all black ice. Now, I am a Phoenix native, and I don't have a lot of experience driving in snow. However, as you may recall, the MIL had rejected all the hotels in Williams proper. I cursed them faintly as I drove past, with their goddamn welcoming VACANCY signs. We ended up crawling twenty-odd miles down the iced-over I-40 at 35 mph, in the dark, in the snow, along with a bunch of other people (some mad speed demons doing 50 mph) who were no happier about it than I was. By the time we got to the Chosen Hotel, my shoulders had seized up completely, I'd been gripping the steering wheel so hard. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" the MIL chirped as we pulled into the hotel parking lot. I did not murder her then and there, which I think speaks to my growth as a person. I may have mentioned before that my MIL, though a lovely and generous woman in many respects, is... well, look under "entitled white lady" in the dictionary and her picture will be there, and there will be a note from her under the picture complaining that the photographer got her bad side and demanding to speak to the manager. And this hotel we pull into is not a rat-infested pit or anything, but it's not the sort of place she usually goes for. It is reasonably clean, and it has free wi-fi, and that is about all you can say for it, amenities-wise. There's not even any carpet in the rooms; it's all linoleum. It is exactly the sort of hotel you'd expect to find when you say "God, I can't drive another mile, this will have to do." Kathy and I are completely underwhelmed. We have seen the MIL rip into far, FAR nicer establishments than this for failing to meet her exa The MIL LOVES it. We throw up our hands and contemplate the mysteries of the universe. There is no restaurant, only a McDonalds across the street, so we warm up the leftovers from our El Tovar dinner in the microwave. Thank God for microwaves. The next morning, we get up. The free breakfast bar, which is the entire reason the MIL insisted on this hotel, turns out to be a dozen packets of instant oatmeal; a Froot Loop dispenser; a sad rack of Wonder Bread for toasting; a warming pan which apparently once held sausages, but is now quite empty; five mini-muffins; one raisin bagel; and a waffle machine with which one can, if one can fight one's way through the throng of desperate breakfast-hunters besieging it, make waffles. The MIL (you guessed it) loved it. I grabbed the raisin bagel. There was no butter, no cream cheese, only packets of grape jelly. Grape jelly, if you are wondering, doesn't go all that well with raisin bagels. You'd think it would, but you'd be wrong. I did manage to nab a couple of sausages when they were finally replenished. They turned out to be incredibly salty, ice cold, and somewhat suspiciously soy-product-flavored. I took them and a slice of Wonder Bread back to the room to microwave them, and made a sort of sad, weird sausage sandwich. Kathy and I then went out to scrape snow off the car – for the moment, it had stopped snowing, but a couple more inches had fallen after we parked for the night. During this process, the head of the driver's side windshield wiper snapped right off. I guess the unaccustomed cold weakened the plastic. Since it was supposed to start snowing again at any moment, I was less than thrilled with this development, but there was nothing for it; I had no idea whether or not there was a mechanic in Bellemont, and I didn't want to wander randomly around trying to find one. We packed everything up and got on the road. It did indeed start snowing again shortly thereafter. Thankfully it never snowed very hard. The snow eventually turned to rain as we came down off the Rim and into the Verde Valley, and it rained all the way into Phoenix and the rest of the day. But we got home safely, I avoided being cited for driving through a rainstorm without working wipers, we picked up Bo from the vet's, I bought a replacement wiper, and the MIL got on a plane back to Florida Saturday morning. So that was my first ever white Christmas. Despite everything, it was a good trip. The scenery was absolutely spectacular. I'll try and post some pictures later. And now, back to the normal stress of job hunting. The end. comments

#IFTTT #Barb's Place

[stanchap2000-blog]

Everyone Should Write a Novel

If I can write a novel and get it published, then anyone can. 

I’m just a former teacher who got frustrated by the number of students on drugs (street drugs and, worse yet, prescription drugs “for hyperactive students”) and so I became a writer. 

I never played sports in high school (never got that letterman’s jacket that would make girls love me), never constructed a birdhouse with my own bare hands, never shot a round of golf under 90, and whenever I played softball with the guys from my church, I’d end up with either a dislocated finger or a bruise on my face (sometimes I’d yell, “Don’t throw me the ball!” and save myself another moment of embarrassment). 

Admittedly, I’ve come to realize that being unpopular in high school is not an adequate justification for becoming a writer. 

Since escaping from the classroom, I have gotten a bit better at doing things. I supported myself by writing dozens of courses for businesses, mostly in the field of telecommunications, and I have three published novels. Not bad for an empty-headed guy. I wish my high school friends could see me now (I had two of them). 

What I am attempting to do in this course is pass along some of the love that I have for the writing process. And I want to tell you a bit about the techniques and the art of writing a novel and why I think you should give this preposterous thing it a try. 

I agree with Oscar Wilde: “I love writing. It is so much more real than life.” 

Alone, with Only Your Imagination

If you write a news article, you present a headline, byline, lead, and story. But before you do this, you burn the hours conducting adequate research and finding reliable sources to give some credence to the facts you plan to include in your story. In writing the article, you are guided, hopefully, by information that you have uncovered and verified. 

As a novelist, however, you are working with no concrete information and the major source for writing the novel is your mind. 

If you write a non-fiction book, such as a cookbook of your favorite recipes or a biography of your favorite president, you choose the subject of the book, you decide on the specific viewpoint, you outline the book and plunge into the research, you come up with a clever title,

and you write the wonderful book. Note that your book is based on facts and hopefully your writing is guided by these facts. 

As a novelist, however, you rely heavily on your imagination and not on any tangible facts … or even on “reality.” 

If you write a memoir, you determine which time of your life you want to write about, you determine the major events that happened during this time, and then you write the memoir. You may spice it up a bit, but you are working from your experiences and that guides you. 

As a novelist, however, you are working with a blank canvas. 

Why am I being so redundant? It is because I want to underscore that the writing of a novel is scary business. You are literally stepping into a void. I am certain that you’ve heard of writer’s block. Well, it’s simply the result of facing that void and coming up with nothing. 

I’ve been there a few times and, boy, is it the bottom of a pit … with snakes! 

Yet, herein lies the reason that you should write a novel: It is one of the highest levels of pure creativity that exists! 

Sidney Sheldon: “A blank piece of paper is God’s way of telling us how hard it is to be God.” 

From this nothing, from this blank piece of paper, can arise a magnificent story, a fascinating view of an author’s view of the world, an emotional experience for others to enjoy and learn from, and (to paraphrase poet John Keats), a truth that is beauty and a beauty that is truth. 

Each hour that you work on your novel, you are encountering an existential experience, which is to say you are dealing with existence, specifically human existence. You are faced with “to be” (words go onto the page) or “not to be” (you come up with nothing). This is the essence of life. You are creating. And in this process lies a secret that is rarely explained or emphasized: 

There is immense pleasure in the act of creating! 

Yes, there is immeasurable pleasure to be had and it costs nothing but a bit of your time. Indulge in it. Make it part of your life, part of your joy of living! 

That is why I think everyone should write a novel. 

A novelist facing a blank page, an artist facing a blank canvas, a composer facing a sheet of notation paper – there are only a few of such fortunate individuals – and they are the few who experience the immense pleasure of creating. Join them! And bring more happiness into your own life. 

It works for me. What I like best about writing novels, or even this course of study, is that it gives my life a slightly higher purpose. I can’t wait to get out of bed in the morning and attempt to write something that will help people – give them some insights into life, give them entertainment, or to give them a bit of knowledge about the writing process. That enlivens me! 

Richard Krzemien: “It’s tougher than Himalayan yak jerky in January. But, as any creative person will tell you, there are days when there’s absolutely nothing sweeter than creating something from nothing.” 

Oscar Wilde: “I love to talk about nothing … it is the only thing I know anything about.” 

The act of writing, of creating, is purpose, and that stabilizes a person and helps to keep his or her attention off the zillions of problems that accrue to modern life. 

Writing a novel will give you a purpose that will overshadow most of the daily calamities, anguishes, and distresses that are part of life.

John Gardner: “Out of the artist’s imagination, as out of nature’s inexhaustible well, pours one thing after another. The artist composes, writes, or paints just as he dreams, seizing whatever swims close to the net. This shimmering mess of loves and hates – fishing trips taken long ago with Uncle Ralph, a 1940 green Chevrolet, a war, a vague sense of what makes a novel, a symphony, a photograph – this is the day the artist must shape into an object worthy of our attention; that is, our tears, our laughter, our thought.” 

Grandma’s Story

My grandmother, Maude Van Order, had eight children and ran a large farm that employed seventeen farmhands. This was in Webberville, Michigan. She got up each morning at 4:30 a.m. and cooked breakfast for her children and the farm workers. Her husband, Benjamin Van Order, ran the local general store, so he ate with this group and then was off to the store. 

Grandma stayed home and, after getting the children off to school, managed the farm. She made lunch for herself and the seventeen farmhands. She made dinner for her husband, her eight children, and the farmhands. She washed clothes, ironed clothes, mended clothes when necessary, cleaned house, etc. 

She was finished with her workday at about 11 p.m. each night. 

Then, each night, she wrote poetry for 2 to 3 hours. This was her “personal time” and she never failed to claim it! 

How did grandma manage such a lifestyle? 

She found immense pleasure in the act of creating! 

Yes, she worked to support her husband and her eight children. Yes, she managed a large farm. But, as she tells it, she mostly lived for the immense pleasure of creating poetry. It kept her alive and doing well – in what most people would think of as a grueling life. 

H.P. Lovecraft: “At night, when the objective world has slunk back into its cavern and left dreamers to their own, there come inspirations and capabilities impossible at any less magical and quiet hours. No one knows whether or not he is a writer unless he has tried writing at night.”

Click on the link below to receive 16 FREE lessons on writing a novel.

https://forms.aweber.com/form/31/783250631.htm

My best to you,

Stanley Chapman, M.A., Teacher, Writer, Entrepreneur

[ekmekandwater-blog]

Thirty Eight Years and Still Going

38 years ago today I made a decision that would forever impact my life.  Here’s the story:

I thought I'd take this time to re-post my own story of how I decided to follow Jesus. In other words, How did a guy like me end up writing a blog like this?

I was raised in a non-religious Jewish home.  I emphasize the term “non-religious” because I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.  No side curls, no Hebrew classes, just an occasional Yiddish phrase and matzo ball soup.  I had no idea about any of the reasons for some of the holidays we celebrated.  I thought Passover was a food holiday – “Pass over the matzos please.   Pass over the bitter herbs!”  Seriously, I had no idea.  I just knew we didn’t believe in Jesus because I asked my mom several times after watching Davy and Goliath or something like that.

The God issue wasn’t something that we discussed much, but I had thought about it some.  I remember early on thinking it was kinda silly to believe in God.  I understood later, that people believed in God, as I saw it, to help them cope with life and mortality or hardships or whatever.  I didn’t really have a problem with people doing this if it helped them cope.  When I got older though, I met people who didn’t just casually believe in a divine coping mechanism (the invisible friend for grownups) but who were making life choices as a result of this belief.  These people were choosing to not do some of the things that I was doing – they were choosing not to have the kind of fun that (it seemed to me) high school kids ought to have because of this concept of God.  That seemed ludicrous to me.  It seemed to me that Christians were being stupid about this and so I saw it as my duty to let them know.

I was that guy in high school – the outspoken skeptic.  I wouldn’t have called myself an atheist because I thought to speak authoritatively that there is no God seemed equally foolish.  My argument was that it was impossible to know.

During my senior year in high school, my buddy Chet and I applied to work at The Happiest Place on Earth, Disneyland.  We got accepted and shortly after my 18th birthday, we began to work in “Outdoor Vending.”  My job title was a “culinary host” which meant that I sold ice-cream, popcorn and balloons.

On day 2 of my employment, I was assigned a trainer for the day to learn the art and science of ice-cream sales.  It’s a complicated science that requires 8 hours together with a trainer.  You take the order, take the money, open the lid, pull out the desired frozen treat and smile.  It’s very complex. So the trainer assigned to me for the day was a young woman named Cynthia.  Cynthia had a personality as big as life.  She laughed loud, smiled big and just seemed to get a lot out of life.  It turns out, and I found out quickly, that she was also one of those enthusiastic, life changed, born again Christians – but like I said, she had a pretty engaging personality and we became friends in spite of her deep convictions.

So during that summer if she was working at a nearby popcorn or ice cream wagon, and I was on a break, I would stop by to visit.  And every single time, I kid you not, she would start to tell me something about the God she believed in.  She would have Bible verses on 3X5 cards that she was using to actually memorize portions of the Bible!  And she would show me what was on her card and say something like, “Mike, look at this.  Look at how much God loves you.  Isn’t that amazing?”  And I would respond with something like, “That’s great for you, but it’s not my thing.”  Undaunted, we would have a similar conversation the next time we met.

I think it was her consistency of her life and message (and for those of you wondering, no, I wasn’t really interested in dating her or anything) and she seemed so earnestly convinced of this God stuff that I started to re-visit the whole God question in my head.  Is there a God? If there is a God, is he somebody I need to worry about?  Does it ultimately make a difference?  Who could I ask about this?  Who’s been talking to me non-stop about God since the day I met her?

So I was working on Main St. at popcorn wagon #2 and I decided to send a note to Cynthia to come and chat with me when she got a chance.  As a sidelight and a bit of Disney trivia, when popcorn venders want to communicate with each other in those days, we of course couldn’t leave our wagons.  We were stuck in one place and so we would use the sweepers.  They were mobile and they were the pony express of the Disney world.  So Cynthia got my note and came out at the end of her shift and I told her what I had been thinking about.

Literally, just at that moment, a sweeper came by.  “Hey Joe,” Cynthia called, and Joe came sweeping over, “You still have that Gospel of John on you?”  Joe said, “Sure,” pulled a gospel of John out of his breast pocket and handed it to me.  Cynthia said, “Mike, if you want to know about God, the best person to ask is God.  Say, ‘Lord I want to know you and I want to know more about you.’  And then sit down and read this Gospel of John.”

I said, “okay” and I took that book home and I probably prayed that prayer 100 times (by the way, had I known I was praying, I probably wouldn’t have done it).  And the more I prayed, the more I thought, “Yeah, God, if you are real, I want to know you.”  So finally, I sat down on our couch in the living room and read the book from cover to cover.

Now I’d heard about Jesus before this time, mainly as something you yell when you’re really frustrated, but I’d never really known any of the story.  This was my first encounter with him and I have to tell you, he impressed me.  There was something to this guy - something, dare I say…spiritual?  Something was happening to me as I read it – for the first time in my life, I began to believe in God.  I still wasn’t sure what to do with Jesus and how he fit into it all.  There was a verse in John 14:6 where Jesus claimed to be the only way to God and I remember thinking that was a pretty narrow statement and it excluded my people – even though I wasn’t an observant Jew, that seemed like a big hurdle.

But I went off to Whittier College as a freshman and I started to enter into the God discussion as a participant rather than an antagonist.  This was a new experience.  I remember being surprised at how many people believed in God as I met Catholics, Protestants, Muslims, Mormons and every Joe blow with their own homespun theology.  And as I compared notes, I realized all of their theologies had complexity to them.  All of their gods had personality and ideas and history and values and the God I believed in was empty and void – he needed help and so I enhanced him.  I began to construct God out of the conversations I’d been having.  A little of this, a dab of that and voila I had my god.  By the end of the school year, he had become more complex and I was proud of him.

On June 15 of that year, I stepped into The Raven bookshop in La Canada and ran into one of my Christian friends from high school who I used to pick on.  I said, “Hey Denise, how’re you doing?”  “Praise the Lord,” she replied, “I’m just serving Jesus…” and blahbity blahbity blah about Jesus and I replied, “I have my beliefs.”  “Really,” she exclaimed, “I’d love to hear them.”  And so in the next 30 seconds, I unpacked all of my complex theology (I remember thinking, “Is that all?” I guess I hadn’t developed my theology as much as I had thought) and Denise shook her head and cleared her throat and said, “we need to talk.”

So there we were right in the middle of the bookstore, talking about God,  “In our culture, Mike,” she continued, “Wouldn’t you agree that if we’re talking about God, then more often than not, we’re probably talking about the God of the Bible.”  I thought about it – if there wasn’t a Bible we probably wouldn’t know much about God and so I replied, “sure.”  She said then, “It seems to me that if we’re claiming to believe in the God of the Bible, we should believe what the Bible says about the God of the Bible.”  I agreed.

There is a verse in the New Testament book of Romans – Romans 10:9,10 which says, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that He is risen from the dead, you will be saved.”  Denise explained to me a lot about the God of the Bible.  She answered a lot of my objections and I knew that I needed to quit avoiding the inevitable and I needed to start following the God that Denise followed whatever that meant.  And I really had no idea what that meant.  But I also knew that I didn’t want to be a freak and so I was going to keep that decision to myself.  I wasn’t going to confess that with my mouth before anyone.

As it turns out, God knew what I was thinking.  And so just a few hours later, that same evening, I was working at Disneyland.  I wasn’t actually working in the park itself but rather was blowing up balloons for the evening in the balloon room.  I was only able to interact with guests in the park for 15 minutes when I was giving a balloon vender a break.  So there I was, standing with a bunch of Mickey Mouse balloons under the people mover when this guy walked up to me.  I had never seen him before and I have never seen him since.  But he walked up to me and said, “Excuse me.  I’d like to know if you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior.”

I thought for a moment and replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.”  He said, “okay,” and took off into the crowd (and who knows? Back to heaven?).  That was that.  I went back to the balloon room where a # of my Christian friends were working and I told them what happened, that this weird guy came up to me and…They got very excited and word got out among the believers in outdoor vending and we started a Bible study with the sweepers and the vendors.  And I got a good strong start to my Christian life.

That God was in such obvious pursuit of me is something that still moves me.  And the events of June 15 following my freshman year in college 30+ years ago still wow me.  But that was just the beginning.  More stories to come soon.  I’d love to hear yours!

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Candlelit

Author: @sagacitus

For: @toomanyfandomsgoddamnit

Rating/Warnings: G, microscopic amounts of conflict

Prompt: Domestic AU/Fluff in general

Author’s notes: Domestic/Non-Despair AU. A storm cuts out the city’s power, so Hinata and Komaeda have a date at home. ((THE CONFLICT ONLY LASTS LIKE 5 SECONDS I PROMISE I’M SO SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT PURE FLUFF))

Hinata was woken up by the sound of soft pattering on the roof above him. As he slowly blinked opened his eyes, a sense of heaviness washed over his body and made him want to pull the covers up over his head and go back to sleep.

Another summer storm hit. And thus ends a lovely day out with his boyfriend.

Right, his boyfriend… Hinata rolled onto his left side to see the sleeping back of the guy he cared so deeply about. Was he awake? Was he just pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to get out of bed like Hinata wanted to? Regardless, Hinata scooted up behind Komaeda and wrapped one arm under his pillow and the other around his ribs, joining his hands in a soft embrace as he buried his nose in the fluffy hair that smelled faintly of fresh soap.

Komaeda softly groaned. “Five more minutes, Hinata-kun…” He rolled onto his back, eyes just barely peeking open.

“It’s raining out, Komaeda.” Hinata replied, burying his head into the newly formed nook between Komaeda’s head and shoulder, holding the boy a little tighter. “I don’t wanna go out today. Let’s just stay in here and cuddle all day.”

“Mmmm… that sounds rather nice actually. But we should get up eventually, I mean we gotta eat and go shopping…”

Hinata was already half asleep again, nestled warmly wrapped around Komaeda’s right half. “Yeah yeah we can do that later, now hold me.”

Komaeda softly chuckled. “You’re pretty affectionate this morning, Hinata-kun. What happened?”

“Rainy days just suck. I know we had plans and stuff but when was the last time we had a lazy day with just the two of us? Nobody else distracting us, nothing else to worry about. Just a quiet lazy day together.”

Komaeda rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think we’ve ever done that, Hinata-kun. I thought you’d get sick of me if we spent a whole day together. Don’t you need your space?”

Hinata raised his head to rest on Komaeda’s chest. “Maybe sometimes, but… what about you Komaeda? Have you ever wanted something like that?”

“Honestly? I’ve always hoped to have a day like that. I just thought it was a selfish thought and that I wasn’t good enough to spend so much time with Hinata-kun.” Komaeda looked away, slowly trying to wrap his right arm around Hinata’s waist. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Hinata tightly wrapped his arms around the back of the other boy’s neck, resting his forehead against the other’s cheek. “You’re never a bother, Komaeda. Things might be confusing at times and maybe we have our moments, but I’m so glad I’ve gotten to meet you and fall so hard for you. You deserve to be loved.” Hinata pulled back and saw Komaeda’s eyes watering slightly. “A-Ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for you to be so upset-”

Hinata was interrupted by Komaeda suddenly sitting upright and hugging Hinata’s shoulders tightly with a small smile on his face. “You’re so kind to me, Hinata-kun… I really am lucky after all.”

As if on cue, the soft whirring of the nearby air conditioner turned off and the lights in the bathroom went dark as well. With the sky outside so overcast, the lack of light brought the bedroom into a nearly pitch black void, save for the soft glow of Hinata’s cellphone on the nearby now-useless charger.

“…Did the power just go out?” Hinata softly asked, still being held tightly by his boyfriend.

Komaeda silently chuckled, the vibrations shaking Hinata slightly. “I should have known! Such wonderful sentiment could only mean something terrible would follow soon after! Seems like my luck curse has stricken once again”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Just because we have no power doesn’t mean we still can’t enjoy ourselves.”

“What do you suggest then, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda could feel Hinata shuffling out of bed, his adjusted eyes noticing he was headed towards the kitchen.

“…Candles can be pretty romantic I guess.” Hinata softly spoke with just the slightest hint of flustering in his voice.

–

Seven of clubs.

King of clubs.

King of diamonds.

Draw two. Nine of diamonds.

Eight of diamonds.

“I choose hearts!” Komaeda announced to his boyfriend.

“Now that’s just adorable.” Hinata grinned as he placed a Five of hearts onto the pile.

“What do you mean?” Nine of hearts.

“Choosing hearts? Get it? Cause we like each other?” Hinata blushed slightly and placed down an Ace of hearts. “Maybe I’m just looking too much into it.”

“You’re so perceptive, Hinata-kun! You can read me like a book.” Ace of spades.

“Wait that was really your intention?” Hinata looked up in surprise, proceeding to draw 3 cards and placing a Queen of spades onto the pile.

“Not really, but maybe the idea was in the back of my head. I wouldn’t rule it out.” Queen of clubs.

“How do you keep getting cards to put down? You haven’t had to pull a single card yet!” Hinata groaned, pulling five cards to finally place a two of clubs down.

“I guess my luck is shining through on this rainy day.” Komaeda smiled and placed down a two of hearts, clearing his hand. “I win, Hinata-kun!”

Hinata snorted as he retrieved all the loose cards, shuffling them all into the deck. “I should have known better than to play cards games against you, Komaeda. I don’t think you’ve lost a single game the entire time I’ve known you.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve frustrated you, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda slumped over and grabbed his arms, suddenly looking sullen. “That was never my intention.”

Putting the deck of cards away, Hinata raised his eyebrows at what his boyfriend said. “Hey, Komaeda, it’s okay. I was just teasing. I like playing games with you, I don’t really care if I win or lose.”

The other looked up. “You…like playing with me? Even something as boring as a card game.”

“Well duh! I-I thought that was a given..” Hinata glanced away, blushing a little more. “I like spending time with you no matter what we do.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know there’s things you’d rather be doing right now.” Komaeda stood up.

“I’m not lying! Why is it so difficult for you to understand that I enjoy being around you?” Hinata ran a hand through his brown spiky hair, feeling a little frustrated.

“And now I’ve gone and upset Hinata-kun.” Komaeda walked towards the window, staring out at the downpour of rain outside.

“I’m not upset, Komaeda! I’m just confused. Why do you think so poorly of yourself?”

“I’m not that important. There’s billions of people in the world, and I’m just one of them. I’m nothing special, heck most people don’t even notice me. Aside from maybe my luck cycle, I’m not that distinct.” Komaeda slowly began to cast his eyes downwards. “I’m worthless.”

Hinata embraced Komaeda from behind. “You’re not any of those things. I’ve never met anyone like you in my life. Heck if anything I’M the one that feels so boring and ordinary.”

Komaeda quickly spun around and grabbed Hinata’s shoulders. “You’re anything BUT ordinary, Hinata-kun! From the moment I first met you I could feel the hope from within you radiating and bringing smiles to the people around you. You’re so sure of yourself and you know exactly what to say to lift someone’s mood. I wouldn’t be able to make someone so happy just by saying a few words.”

Hinata snorted. “Dummy…” He pulled Komaeda close to him and rested their foreheads together. “How do you explain me then?”

Komaeda’s widening eyes were the last thing Hinata saw before softly pulling their lips together, wrapping his arms around the others neck and burying a hand into the soft white hair he loved so much. The room grew silent as the only sounds that could be heard were the thunder rumbling outside, the patter of rain falling, and the occasional barely-audible smacks of the two boys stopping and starting anew in their kisses.

After what felt like an eternity, Komaeda was the one who slowly pulled back and opened his eyes first, admiring the blissful look on Hinatas face as the others eyes softly blinked open. “You’ve got me there, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata grinned and softly snorted, pulling Komaeda into a hug. “You think too much about making me happy, Komaeda. You do that all on your own without even trying. You give my life purpose and meaning and every day is a new exciting experience to share with you. Don’t ever think you’re not something wonderful.”

Komaeda blinked away small tears of happiness as he nuzzled into Hinata’s shoulder. “I promise.”

Hinata smiled just before a loud growl interrupted the silence. “Guess we should probably get something to eat.” the brunette chuckled, pulling back from the tender embrace.

“But we have no power to cook, Hinata-kun! The stove is electric and I don’t think opening the fridge would be a good idea either.”

“Hey, we’re not totally out of power you know.” Hinata walked over to the nightstand where his long-forgotten phone rested on standby. He picked it up and thumbed through his quick contacts. “Pizza sound okay?”

–

A half hour later, Komaeda grinned as he patted grease off of a slice of oozing pepperoni pizza. “They DO say the way to a guy’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Oh, does that imply I haven’t captured your heart yet?” Hinata teased, taking a bite of his own slice. “Guess I’ll have to work harder then.”

Komaeda snorted and gently elbowed the other’s arm, silently rolling his eyes. “Maybe you should, Hinata-kun. Sweep me off my feet.”

“Literally or metaphorically?”

“Surprise me.”

Hinata snorted in return and swiftly smooched the other’s cheek, earning him a quiet squeak from Komaeda. “Maybe when my hands aren’t covered in grease.”

The two boys continued to eat their food, stopping occasionally to rant on about some silly thing Hinata caught their landlord doing, or some interesting story Komaeda stumbled across on his many walks throughout the neighborhood.

“There’s this cute little black cat that likes to join me sometimes.” Komaeda recalled, bringing the empty pizza box and paper plates to the trash. “I think it’s a stray, it doesn’t wear a collar.”

“Do you have a name for it?” Hinata washed his hands and started digging through a nearby cabinet of junk.

“Midnight. Figured it’s fitting for her dark fur, and fitting how I usually take my walks after dark.”

“I should join you someday and see if we can find her. Hope she’s doing okay in this rain.” Hinata triumphantly pulled out a large radio stashed away in a closet. It was battery powered, so they could still listen to music and keep the apartment from growing quiet.

“That reminds me, what time is it getting to be Hinata-kun?” Komaeda looked around the living room, presumably looking for Hinata’s phone.

“Beats me. Feels like this rain has gone on for hours. And it’s so dark outside I can’t tell what’s night or day anymore.” Hinata switched the radio on and found a station playing classical music, turning the volume down to a comfortable background level.

“Your phone says it’s nearly 9pm.” Komaeda raised the cell phone over his head where he found it sitting on a side table.

“Wow, the day really flew by.”

“I wish we could have more days like this, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda sighed, walking over to Hinata and softly grabbing his left arm. “It was nice getting to spend so much intimate time with you.”

“H-hey now, do you really have to word it like that?” Hinata flustered, looking away. “But yeah I agree, this was really nice.”

“Hinata-kun?”

“Hm?” Hinata turned towards Komaeda who was staring at him lovingly with the purest of expressions on his faces, causing the brunette’s cheeks to burn even more.

“Will you dance with me?” Komaeda’s grip on Hinata’s arm grew ever-so-slightly tighter. “I think that would be a really lovely way to end such a wonderful day.”

Hinata smiled, unable to resist the innocent look coming from his boyfriend. “I’d like that, Komaeda. I really would.”

Komaeda silently wrapped his arms around Hinata’s neck, resting his face on the other’s shoulder nuzzling into his neck. Hinata carefully wrapped his own arms around Komaeda’s waist, burying his face into the soft white hair he loved so much that still smelled as fresh as it was this morning. The two said nothing as they silently swayed and rocked to the piano music in the background, the many candles flickering casting a tall shadow on the wall nearby of the two in such a tender embrace. Hinata smiled and closed his eyes, losing himself in the tranquility of the moment. Yeah, more days like this would be nice.

Suddenly the room grew almost blindingly light as the lights flickered back on and the air conditioner whirred back into motion, signalling that power had finally been restored to their apartment. The two boys quietly groaned as their eyes suddenly adjusted to the artificial light, a stark contrast from the soft glow of the candles littered throughout the room.

“Looks like the powers back on.” Hinata grumbled, eyes still squinting to adjust to the light.

“Indeed it does, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda softly replied, still holding onto his boyfriend. “Today was nice while it lasted.”

Noting the almost disappointed tone of Komaeda’s voice, Hinata gently pulled away from the tender embrace and walked towards the closet the radio was being kept in.

“Is something the matter, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda inquired, confused as to why he would suddenly pull away without some explanation.

“The night isn’t over yet, Komaeda.” Hinata called out from inside the closet. The white haired boy was about to ask what Hinata meant, when suddenly all the lights in the room went dark and the whirring I’m the background stopped. “Just because the city has power doesn’t mean we have to.”

“The circuit breaker?” Komaeda was still mildly confused.

Hinata walked back towards Komaeda, nodding and extending his hand. “Shall we continue?”

Komaeda grinned and grabbed the same outstretched hand, pulling the two close. “I think I’d like that, Hinata-kun.”

The brunette grinned, and with a determined look on his face, ducked under Komaeda and swiftly picked him up from the side, carrying the white haired boy in his arms bridal style. “Then I believe I have a promise to keep.

The two giggled and spun in circles for the rest of the night, eventually making their way back into the bedroom and collapsing on the bed, not bothering to change into pyjamas. The last thing Hinata  heard, aside from the soft pattering of the rain outside, was the murmuring of the forgotten radio still playing a soft piano melody outside in the kitchen.

Another summer storm hit. And thus ends a lovely day in with his boyfriend.

#komahina secret exchange #komahina #fanfiction

[bpdbiscuitblog-blog]

How Many Did You Take? How Many, My Angel? ***TRIGGER WARNING***

Woohoo is one of my oldest friends. She’s an ordained Wiccan priestess and performed the marriage ceremony for my second husband and me. She’s been my spiritual advisor and counselor since before I was old enough to drink, and I’m 34 now.

Before I was diagnosed with BPD, back when I hit the Big Red Button (the one that says - DO NOT TOUCH because the consequences are catastrophic) on my life, Woohoo was still there for me. I was obviously going insane, up and leaving my 13-year marriage with my then 35-year-old husband and my 14-year-old daughter, Moon, and my house and my entire existence to move in with Gypsy, a 33-year-old failed musician-turned-gamer who lived with his mother and had no job, education, hope for his future, or even basic social skills, where I immediately began a life of weird, unsatisfying, and infrequent sex, binge drinking, and running from past and present trauma-drama. On a positive note, I became a teacher again, a fulfilling experience speaking to my soul, as I am a teacher in more than just career, but completely mentally incapable of taking care of myself, much less a group of 17 8-year-olds, and became overworked, exhausted, and an emotional hurricane in a matter of months.

But between the Big Red Button and the hurricane was a time of destruction and devastation where I used the fires of my own personal hell to burn every possible bridge to my old life that I could, many of them badly in need of burning, as I would never return to walk them again, but others, like the Bridge to Woohoo, one of the few structures still anchoring my rapidly deteriorating mind in reality. Woohoo never traumatized me. She never hurt me. She never sought to control me. But the night I lost my daughter Moon and what remained of my ability to cope with the pain I was experiencing, in my grief and despair, she became just another representation of that trauma, and in the days that followed surviving my suicide attempt (notice I did not say my first suicide attempt) she became one of several targets of my BPD-strengthened rage at that long-buried trauma, a casualty of Hurricane Biscuit, although I was still more of a Tropical Storm back then.

Woohoo is a force of nature herself at times. Just as crazy, just as sarcastic, just as devastating a wit as myself, Woohoo brings with her a kind of controlled chaos, a tornado-in-a-bottle personality, ready to let loose a barrage of her own hellfire if the mood strikes her, but mostly just fun, easy-going, patient, a breeze that could whip up into a frenzied tornado if the mood strikes, but content at the moment just to enjoy the current. Voluptuous, sex-driven, raven-haired, loud-mouthed, and profane could all be used to describe her accurately, as accurately as kind, generous, soulful, and motherly.

I no longer believe in soulmates, but I do believe we have, say, connected souls, and as much as anyone I’ve ever met, she is one of my connected souls. And yet, when she stepped up to do what needed to be done to save my life, I turned my back on her.

She warned me about Gypsy. Told me there was something “not right ‘bout that boy,” in her Oklahoma twang. They had an immediate dislike of each other, Gypsy and Woohoo. Gypsy called her a man-hating feminist. Woohoo called him a lazy, worthless piece of shit, among other things. Neither of them were wrong.

My response to her warnings, over and over again, like a love-struck teenager fawning over a, well, a worthless piece of shit, was a protesting, “But, I love him, Woohoo! He’s my one and only.” (I am now picturing myself striking a dramatic pose, forearm to my forehead, turning away and looking plaintively out the window into a setting sun, while declaring that she just wouldn’t understand.)

I blatantly ignored the mounting evidence that this pairing would only leave me broken and broke, and continued blissfully unaware along my journey of self-destruction, orchestrating a series of events that would leave me running from my home, my marriage, my family. I’m not saying I should have been leaving these things, at least the marriage and the home, but I shouldn’t have been running towards Gypsy, of all people. Woohoo would have been a better choice. She did offer me a place to live, a chance to “get my shit together” in a relatively peaceful environment, free for a few months at least from financial worry, a safe haven to start anew. Meanwhile, I waved merrily from my car window as I drove away, hollering, “Nah, I got this!” as I hauled ass down her driveway, blaring Gypsy’s music at full blast and heading back to the city, to his mother’s house and the tiny 10x10 room that was to be my new prison of my own making for the next several months.

Meanwhile, still unable to communicate the massive amount of emotional stress and pain I was under to anyone, my mind began bringing all my fears and the traumas of my past to bear, forcing me to deal with them however I could. Financially, I was surviving, barely, in no small part to Woohoo herself, who kept my business running mostly smoothly as the day-to-day operations manager, supplying me with a steady income even when I wasn’t actively working.

My ex-husband meanwhile had no intention of patiently waiting out my midlife crisis, immediately replacing the vacated space in our marriage bed with the first woman who would tumble into it. He convinced Moon that my mental state was due to the fact that I was a bad person who did not love her, and therefore she had no need to further associate herself with me.

The day I received that smug text message from him, superior in his position as head of a new family to control, I gave up. Oh, not without setting a few more fires of course, screaming and stamping my foot and using whatever means I could to manipulate my ex-husband into returning my daughter to me, letting me hear her voice, even if it meant terrifying a complete stranger, his new bed buddy, into thinking I was going to share photos of her in lingerie with the world. And where did I get these photos? Oh, Mr. Manipulation himself had provided those just days before when he was so very interested in seeing if I would join them for a threesome. But, that’s another story for another day.

After several hours of realizing that torturing Mr. M and and the future Mrs. M was not going to get me my daughter, my emotions spiraled me into a well of despair that I was not capable of pulling myself out of. I seized upon a bottle of pills, a prescription Mr. M procured from his doctor that I had been told was for helping me with anxiety from my ADHD, but in fact were mood-altering antidepressants that, when prescribed incorrectly, could lead to suicidal ideation.

Google is a useful source for immediate access to the LD50 of literally anything. LD50 is the amount of a medication that will, when consumed, lead to death in 50% of the population of those who take it. The LD50 for this particular medication was 15 pills. I had 30. While texting Woohoo, Mr. M, and the future Mrs. M., telling them my intentions unless they returned my daughter to me, I began counting out 15 pills. I continued the threats as I used the Everclear under Gypsy's bed (where he was currently snoring after taking a dose of Benadryl after a long weekend of my emotional drama), to swallow them one by one. At eight pills, Woohoo warned me that she was calling the police. Hours away from my location, she would never arrive in time herself to stop me. She did the only the she could to prevent my death at my own hands - she narced on me.

At ten pills, for some reason, Gypsy stirred in his allergy-med-induced coma, and seeing me swallow the tenth, realized what was happening. He took the pills away as I screamed at him, “Just five more, please, just five more!” while he screamed back at me, “How many did you take? How many, my Angel?” (Gypsy didn’t call me Biscuit. No one did at this time, actually.) After counting and recounting, doing his own internet search, and counting once more, he sighed with relief, realizing I’d only taken enough to give myself a stomach ache.

My sobs had subsided at this point, and I sat in stony silence as Gypsy stared at me, seemingly in shock at how close I had come to leaving his life, and my own, at my own hand. Then one of those loud knocks that apparently policemen are trained in, one that can echo through a house to the back of a bedroom and enter into even the fevered dreams of a hallucinating woman who just wanted to be happy, smoke weed, and eat a chocolate bar in peace, sounded through the house, setting Gypsy's mom’s chocolate labs off in a frenzied bark as well as my wails of panic.

“Tell them I’m okay, Gypsy. Please, tell them I’m okay. Tell them she lied. Tell them they lied. Can I stay here? I’m so scared, Gypsy.” With an irritated sigh, he put his khaki shorts on over his boxers, pulled me gently to my feet, and guided me to the door. “No, you’ve got to talk to them. They’re going to want to see you.”

As if I was a frightened toddler meeting Santa for the first time, he guided me to the front door. In my head, I was psyching myself up. “You can do this, Biscuit. Just act normal. Act normal. Be angry. If you’re angry, you can’t be sad. If you’re angry, you won’t cry.”

After a heated discussion between me and the cops, a worried discussion between the cops and Gypsy, and phone calls and screenshots of my texts to Woohoo and Mr. and Mrs. M. between the cops and Woohoo, it was decided that it would be in my best interest if I was detained involuntarily at a mental institution for a three-day psych hold.

In the front yard of a house I had only recently moved into, in front of people I barely knew, in front of my beloved Gypsy, I was handcuffed, crying and scared. As the cuffs clicked into place, I could see Gypsy at the front door, watching behind the glass, mouthing, “I love you,” across the void separating me from the only vaguely familiar thing left in my life. Physically, I was being kept safe, but I was being traumatized all over again, my hands behind my back all over again, forced to do something I didn’t want to do all over again.

But what else could Woohoo do? Physical safety trumped mental safety. I could never be mentally safe again unless I was kept physically safe now. At the time, I couldn’t see that. At the time, all I felt was fear and anger. For someone with BPD, fear and anger are terror and rage.

By the time I was released from my prison 48 hours later (instead of 72, as apparently I wasn’t that crazy), my mind had been fueled by this terror and rage for days, consuming my thoughts completely. Unable to turn that rage onto the people who had hurt me, I instead hurled it at Woohoo, now the sole symbol remaining of that night. I stripped her from the business, allowing Gypsy to spew venom through social media as the new voice of the company, coming to my defense as Woohoo tried to warn our contractors that there was something seriously wrong with my mental stability now.

In my gathering momentum of destruction, I decided to strike one more blow against my former friend, business partner, and soul sister: I refused to pay her. I kept her final paycheck, using it instead to shower Gypsy with books and games, gifts for his loyalty perhaps. Meanwhile, Woohoo, still in shock over my behavior thus far, now had to figure out how to make ends meet without the money she was owed, how to provide for my own godchildren, her sweet son and daughter, now just that much shorter of being able to cover expenses.

The only wise decision I made in those days was enrolling in counseling. But of course, showing up to the first session did not instantly make me see what I had done and was continuing to do. That would take time, more self-destruction, more mistakes, more trauma, and finally, finally -- partly due to that first step and the hard work of a southern Biscuit, partly due to the luck of finding her Gravy -- peace.

#bpd #bpd thoughts #actually bpd #bpd problems #bpd feels #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #being borderline #borderline problems #journal #journey #suicide #friends #southern #crazytrain #ptsd recovery #recovery #ptsd #complex ptsd #ptsdlife #ptsdsurvivor #midlifecrisis #midlifewomen #trauma #mental health #mentally ill #mental disorder #depression #my life #life