#and have made it abundantly clear that I am not welcome or accepted or believed or respected | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mubal4 · 2 years

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What are we really doing?

Often, we need reminders. Sometimes they are small, pick up your dry cleaning for example. Other times they may much more important – where are we headed or, who am I becoming? The graphic above is one of those helpful reminders for me; an important one. It was a gift, from a very dear friend, for my birthday last night. It is hanging on my wall, in my home office, and now a part of my morning routine. The intention is to read it each day to remind me of who I am today and the “who” I am working to become. It is easy to get caught up in the “what” and the “how.” Life can spin us out of control, asking ourselves that above question, “what the hell am I doing?” What are your triggers that bring the focus back to now? This graphic has been a good start for me but full transparency, it is definitely a work in progress. There is a lot there to digest and most days I am trying to eat it all in one bite. Doesn’t work that way. We must attack the elephant, one bit at a time and practice that peaceful, patient, progress.

The idea to write about this came to me a few weeks ago as I was reviewing the piece one morning. Wasn’t abundantly clear on how I would process it into my own words and the approach I would take until a day or two ago. Although we are hitting on all points, we are going to take them, one sentence at a time.

“Be YOU. A genuine original.” – We were not created to be like each other. Yes, we have similarities being human beings, but we are all wired differently. We have each been given treasures that we are to share with the world. Unfortunately, we tend to spend most of our lives copying or mimicking other’s treasures, we fail to realize our own. Coming to the end of our time not working to fulfill our potential and robbing others of our gifts. It is understandable, wanting to be welcome, accepted, and liked but do we waste too much time trying to fit in when we are designed to stand out?

“Find your voice and make a difference.” – My first thought was to say, “what are your passionate about?” That would fit here but what fulfills you? What is it that when you just think of experiencing it, you get goosebumps and emotional? I read this and my mind things of “voice” being a metaphor. Sure, it could me a cause or maybe a belief that you are passionate about and that works. Hell, there are a lot of things we can gravitate towards today where a difference needs to be made. I am thinking beyond that and “that voice” being what do you believe it is that you are compelled to be? I want to also bring it down to reality here because this train of thought can enable us to go too big and want to make this huge impact and great influence. And we may all get to that point someday but staying true to the practice and being present, the difference we make can start with just one!

“Don’t forget where you came from but never lose sight of where you are going.” – Fist thing that comes to mind is the actual location of where I came from, Northeastern PA. Well, I think the best way to frame that is if you are from NEPA (as we call it), you may not have too much of a choice to forget where you came from 😊. I say that in the most kind and loving way because that is what NEPA is about – at least the people that I have been fortunate enough to have in my life, to this day too, are all about. It will always be home and I am proud to say it. That said……the statement is more than that 😊. It is again about the who, from my perspective. There is a where piece to it but, for me, it is who I was at that point in my life, who I’ve become since then, and who I am going to be down the road. I relate to it in this manner – those years in NEPA were my foundation. The dirt, soil, that start of me, of all of us when we think about the “where we came from.” Yes – the positives and, not so positives, of those times – all part of the foundation. The people, lessons learned, and all those experiences – the foundation that started that who I’ve become, and that foundation will be the same for the who I will become. That is something that is very meaningful to me as we continue to move forward and, as hard as it is sometimes, not losing sight of who I am becoming. We work hard to fulfill that potential and share those treasures as we were meant to; the other part of it, again for me, is not letting down the who I was all those years ago!

“Believe in your gifts. Cherish them and explore their possibilities. Make mistakes and don’t be afraid to ask questions.” – My challenge with this one was first finding what those gifts are and there are moments that I still feel like I am searching. Ha – but times of reflection (reading this daily for example), helps me remember those treasures that I’ve been fortunate to find that triggers that belief. It is also incredibly satisfying to see those gifts, that we’ve shared, in action within others (say your daughters for example? 😊). Failure is the best opportunity for growth and, the path to helping us find those gifts. Think about this perspective for a minute – we go out and make mistakes, falling and failing – but growing. We ask questions, although it may mean embarrassing ourselves looking like “we don’t know something,” and possibly looking like a “fool.” It is work, it is hard, it could be painful at times – but that is how we find those gifts. I’ve learned that they aren’t displayed on our office wall one day when we walk into the room. We must ask questions, as the quote says, and the most important ones are those that we dig down deep and ask ourselves.

“Be brave and wild at heart. Embrace all the things that make you unique. Be passionate about the things that matter to you.” – It takes courage not to conform to opinions of others. I am talking about those opinions of the ones that are your inner circle. Family, friends, loved ones, coaches, teachers, mentors – those that mean the most to us. I believe, in most circumstances, the intentions are good and the guidance they are provider do matter………. but to whom? That guidance and advice may be what matters to them, but that is really none of your business. Someone else’s dreams for us, although well intentioned, are none of our business. What are your visions and missions? The bravery to be wild at heart comes when we start listening to what our vision is of who we want to become. It is about what matters to YOU, not others.

“Practice kindness and compassion.” – Believe we can all use much more of this, both in giving and receiving. Just like the rest though, it is a practice. I find myself not demonstrating it at times. Circumstances, moments, and people frustrate me and sometimes my perspective, my mind, isn’t around forgiveness and compassion. I know I need to improve in that area. However, the most work is needed on practicing kindness and compassion on myself. I ask for grace and forgiveness each day; ironically, I was speaking with something about this very topic about 2 hours ago. We were discussing how we both need to be better at giving ourselves more grace and being kinder to ourselves. I believe it starts with us, internally, if we are not able to show ourselves kindness and compassion, how will we be able to express that with and to others? I’ve felt, in my later years, that if I am unable to, or even unwilling, to love myself, how I am I going to be able to express love to others? It may sound selfish, but is it more selfless?

“Be a hero to someone.” – We have heroes out there each day protecting our country and communities. Yes – this may be a sore topic for some (see above about compassion and kindness!). They come in all walks of life. Absolutely, the military, police, fire, rescue, nurses, doctors, teachers, coaches, and all other types of first responders and leaders. But we are all heroes in some way, to someone. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children, aunts, uncles, friends, partners! That single parent, working three jobs to get provider for the family – hero! The volunteers the homeless shelters – hero! The person, in the park that sits down on the bench and strikes up the conversation with the grandparent, making that person’s day – hero. That person that gives up their seat on the bus – hero! It is perspective and it is not something that needs to be huge. It can be a simple act of kindness. Something as easy as do the right thing. Aren’t these characteristics of a hero?

“Demonstrate character and be a good friend.” – Another simple definition of a hero maybe? I know I’ve burned many friendships throughout my life. Much of those were because I was trying to be someone I was not. The opposite of demonstrating character. Relatable to the topic above around fitting in and wanting to be like and accepted. We spend so much time trying to fit in, as mentioned, when we should be standing out and for who? Many that don’t truly value us as we are, or our friendship. Truth is, I spent a lot of time trying to impress some folks in my life, when all I had to do is be my genuine, wild, and wacky self, isn’t that character? Isn’t that integrity? These attributes aren’t reserved for specific individuals. They are all behaviors that build on top of each other to help create good human beings. Isn’t that what we all want to be?

“Become someone that you will be proud of when you look back on your life.” – What does this look like for you? Who is the version of yourself? I’ve thought deeply about this, maybe far too often because it could be a bit dark. But I think it has been valuable through the transition and the journey. Some may ask, “what do you want your legacy to be?” I am not much of a legacy guy, but I am a firm believer in the dash. I first heard of this, I think it was from Les Brown but, I believe it was originally in a poem from the 90’s by Linda Ellis, called The Dash Poem. “It discusses the importance of making the most of life. The poem centers on a eulogy where the speaker emphasizes what happened during ‘the dash,’ the symbol the represents the time between birth and death.” It can be debated that my earlier years were not spent making the “most of my life.” There were many mistakes and foolish decision made, but that is still the case today too. And that will be the case as I continue to navigate this journey. It a consistent process of ever evolving and growing. There are certainly moments, many, that I am not proud of……..here comes the but though, and I’ve shared this before – my dash looks a hell of a lot different if I made different decisions and those mistakes/failures never occurred. Of course, right? Yes – and that is when I look back on my travels through life and who I am today. I am not ashamed to say I am proud. Proud of the husband, father, and human being I am becoming. Sure, I am perfectly flawed in so many ways and weathered beyond belief. But I can confidently say that if my day came tomorrow, I am very proud of my dash!

“And remember all the quirky things about yourself, that sometimes you wish were different are really the most special. Because YOU are the real thing.” – A fitting way to end!

#whoarewe whatsyourdirection bringitbacktohere startwiththatone bebrave compassion whatsyourdash beyou

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thornedrose44 · 3 years

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Prompt: “I can’t do this. Just leave me alone.”

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"Goodnight, Kara." Lena said from across the room when she finally managed to catch Kara's eye.

It was the first time they had made eye contact since Kara had welcomed her inside at the start of the night. Kara startled at the sudden sight of Lena, waving farewell as she stepped quietly towards the door, but made no move to follow after her and when the door swung quietly shut behind her Lena knew things would never be the same.

It was Kara's birthday party (her Earth birthday party to those that happened to be in the know, which to Lena's un-surprise was a rather considerable group all things considered). Kara had invited her, further proof of the strength of their newly reaffirmed friendship. Lena had been grateful for the invite, appreciating it as the sign that they were back on the right track, and accepted it without hesitation.

She had then proceeded to spend hours upon hours thinking of the perfect gift for Kara, excitement and anticipation building in her stomach.

It would be her first proper night out in months after being thrown back into her role as CEO and dealing with all the negative press following Lex’s downfall and upcoming conviction. Her working hours had reached an excess that she had never achieved before. The blowback onto her in the form of hatred for the Luthors was even greater than last time as well, despite her crucial role in taking Lex down. She was still deemed guilty by association especially since she had been working closely with Lex for a long time before revelations about his villainy became apparent.

The news were critiquing her every move, slandering her every chance they got and rallying the masses to a fervour - she was now facing at least one assassination attempt every week.

Regardless of all that, Lena had one salvation, one light of hope that she clung onto. Her friendship with Kara. It was growing again. They were spending time together. Relearning one another or learning about each for the first time in Lena's case. The conversation was finally less stilted and the trust was back.

But there was still something missing, something stopping them from returning to exactly where they were before.

Lena, as the months ticked by, realised that they were no longer as physically close as they once were. Hugs were rare. Gentle touches of the hands were swiftly snatched back to prevent lingering. Even extended eye contact was fleeting.

Lena at first thought the problem was that she had hurt Kara so badly that the woman who sometimes communicated solely through physical affection no longer wanted to be touched by Lena. That broke something in Lena. That Kara, even though she was trying to be kind, friendly and forgiving to Lena, was not comfortable with any sort of physical contact between them, drove Lena into a drunken stupor of college-level proportions.

Once the alcohol was out of her system and she had suitably recovered from her hangover, Lena had allowed the scientist within her to take over.

No more assumptions.

She would gather evidence, make an hypothesis and work towards a solution.

If she wanted Kara back in her life properly - cuddles on the sofa and lengthy hugs a necessity of that - Lena would put the effort in.

So she observed… and what she observed was this…

Pink cheeks and bashful expressions whenever their gazes met.

A thick swallow and faltering breath whenever their hands brushed.

Deep sighs and fingers digging fleetingly into her back as if on the edge of pulling her closer whenever they embraced.

Dark eyes and teeth biting into a bottom lip whenever Lena stretched or moved her hair away from her neck.

Attraction, affection and interest .

Lena didn’t believe the results of her evidence; she re-ran the tests over and over again trying to work out if she had just interacted with Kara on an odd day, if she just happened to be thinking about something (someone) else at the same time but… it kept happening over and over again.

If it had been anyone else, Lena wouldn’t have doubted what she was seeing but… but.. This was Kara.

Kara, who she had been in love with since she had walked into her office with her cousin.

Kara, who had never picked up on or reacted to her flirts.

Kara, who had broken her heart with lies.

Kara, who meant so much to her.

Kara, who she had only just gotten back.

Was it worth the risk?

Fear had blinded her, of that she had no doubt, but was it keeping her safe from the hurtful truth of Kara not wanting to touch her anymore or from the potential happiness that Kara returned her feelings but was too sweet or shy to put herself in a position that would make Lena uncomfortable.

Lena decided to take a chance - just this once because even if she was wrong about Kara not feeling the same, she had to believe that Kara was incapable of being cruel to her if she misread it. They promised each other honesty and Lena intended to show it.

It was why she needed to buy the perfect present, something that hinted that Kara’s feelings (if Lena was right) were returned. And just a week before the party, she knew exactly what the perfect present would be.

She wrapped it personally (normally Jess would wrap any gifts she had to send out), wanting to go the extra mile. It wasn’t perfectly done, a bit messy in places and the sellotape was excessive but she had done it herself which she knew Kara would appreciate more than professional gift wrapping.

Lena, however, realised that she had made a mistake the second she arrived at Kara's.

Knew she had misread… everything …

Because Kara… Kara couldn't stand to be near her for longer than it took to say hello, accept the present and then disappear off.

Lena hadn’t expected to be with Kara for all of the party; it was Kara's party and loads of her friends were in attendance, all of whom wanted to spend it with Kara. Who wouldn't?

It's just… Lena��

Lena didn't have anyone else.

It was made abundantly clear to Lena within the first thirty seconds that she was not welcome. Alex gave her a gruff nod from across the room before turning her back to her - she still didn't trust her and Lena had prioritised winning Kara back over the last few months above everything else. Brainy and Nia smiled at her but they were deep in conversation with CatCo employees all of whom were practically snarling at Lena (clearly not Luthor fans). James was here as well and dear God did he give her such a blazing look of hatred Lena was surprised she didn't burst into flames under its ferocity. (They hadn’t dated in this rewritten universe, much to Lena’s pleasure, though his original dislike for her was clearly a mainstay of every universe).

So… Lena grabbed a drink and stood in the corner as Kara moved seamlessly between her various groups of friends and colleagues, never once sparing Lena even a glance. The majority of her movements were accompanied by William Dey, who repeatedly tried to sling an arm around Kara's shoulder - the only joy Lena got from the evening was watching Kara repeatedly squirm out from under his touch.

She held out for two hours, sipping three beers and glancing intermittently at her phone as she stayed in her corner, hoping that Kara would come over for just five minutes.

Five minutes with Kara wasn't too much to ask for, was it?

Five mere minutes with Kara would have made the whole night worth it, made the glares and malevolent whispers sent her way worth it.

It was at the two hour mark that Lena accepted the truth.

Kara wasn't going to come over to talk to her.

Kara hadn't been pulling away from her due to a sudden realisation of feelings and attraction.

Kara hadn't expected her to accept the invite. Hadn't wanted her to accept.

Kara was ashamed of her, that was why she pulled away, why she didn't acknowledge her.

Lena couldn't really blame her but that didn't mean she had to stay and take it. So gathering what was left of her dignity, she shuffled towards the door, caught Kara's eye, waved and slipped outside… though, not before retrieving the present she had brought for Kara… it would have revealed far too much and Lena didn't need to deal with that on top of everything else.

Lena returned to her office for no other reason that she still had some good liquor stored there - Kara had encouraged her a couple of months ago to cut back on her drinking and she couldn’t deny the baby blue puppy dog eyes. She staggered into her office, chucking the present she had spent hours creating onto the sofa - she would buy Kara some random meaningless gift like a nice scarf or jumper tomorrow instead - and poured herself a full tumbler before flipping open her laptop and getting to work. She lost herself in designs and business plans as she made her way through the bottle.

She used to sit and brood when she drank but Sam had made her promise she wouldn’t do that anymore, hazel eyes filled with concern at where Lena’s mind wandered when unoccupied and fuelled by alcohol. Whilst Lena was in a pretty bleak space, she refused to hurt her last (and only) friend by breaking the one promise she had made to her.

It must have been two am when Lena heard a familiar thud from the balcony followed by a gentle knock that could only belong to one person.

“Kara, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Lena called out, not bothering to lift her gaze away from her laptop screen - she wasn't sure whether the sight of Kara would evoke tears or fury and she wished to give Kara neither.

“Hey… I just wanted… I was…" Kara stammered out; Lena didn't need to see her to know that she was fidgeting with the edge of her cape as she tiptoed nervously closer. "You know… flying around and saw the light on and figured I would check in on you, see how you were doing…”

“I’m fine. Just working.” Lena replied brusquely taking a sip of her whiskey.

“And drinking…” Kara muttered, her tone more worried than disapproving but Lena took offense regardless.

“Yes. It’s a Saturday night, cut me some slack.” Lena snapped back, defiantly swallowing what was left in her glass before slamming it down onto her desk.

The loud clack as it connected with the surface was followed by a heavy, almost suffocating silence.

“You left early.” Kara whispered into the unnatural stillness, shattering the fraudulent focus Lena had on her computer screen with those three words. Kara didn't sound confused or upset, just painfully neutral as if to emotionally step back from the situation so that she could garner some emotional truth from the CEO instead.

Well, Lena was done with that, done with giving more of herself than Kara wanted so she took a deep, calming breath and allowed her painstakingly crafted mask to slip into place.

“I wasn’t the first to leave.” Lena pointed out calmly, finally turning to look at Kara, certain she could keep her voice and face blank. It was then that she saw how… small Kara looked, which was never a word Lena would have used to describe Kara in full Supergirl regalia in the entire time she had known her. Kara looked defeated and lost, a tremble to her lip and very being that she tried to hide behind a shy smile.

“Well… I didn’t get a chance to talk to you…” Kara replied, ducking her head meekly as she admitted. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Lena pursed her lips at that, “I was there for over two hours, Kara. You could have come over whenever you wanted. It wasn’t like I was occupied.”

“Yeah… what was that about?” Kara laughed, rubbing the back of her neck, trying far too hard to make her tone light as if even the idea of Lena being without company was an entirely absurd concept.

The high-pitch to Kara's laugh and the unfamiliar tension around her eyes revealed to Lena that Kara knew exactly why Lena had been standing all alone that evening.

“I’m a Luthor, Kara." Lena replied sharply, not interested in trying to smooth over the harsh truths like Kara was always so keen to do when it suited her. "No one wanted me there and they all made that very clear.”

“I wanted you there.” Kara replied so soft and earnest that Lena nearly believed her.

“I highly doubt that.” Lena scoffed derisively.

“I did.” Kara insisted, eyes desperate and pleading.

Lena merely shook her head, turning back to face her computer, “If you say so…”

“Lena, I-”

“Kara… I can’t…” Lena muttered, her voice cracking in the exact way she didn’t want it to. “I can’t do this. Just leave me alone.” Lena requested, hating how it verged on begging.

“What?” Kara murmured in shock.

“I can’t just… pretend that I’m not hurt or upset.” Lena confessed, fingers curling into fists on her desk, eyes slamming shut to lock in the tears. “I just need… time to get over it and accept what we are. So until then… please just leave me alone.”

“I hurt you.” Kara repeated, her voice broken and raw .

“Kara, I didn’t…” Lena shook her head angrily, she didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to inflict herself on Kara who had tried so hard to be her friend. “It's your birthday, Kara.” Lena sighed sadly, “You get to spend it anyway you like with whomever you like.”

“I wanted to spend it with you.” Kara breathed, and Lena could hear the sharp inhales between each word that revealed that Kara was crying.

“Kara, you don’t need to…” Lena assured, with a wave of her hand, eyes focused on her lap, “let’s just leave it, okay?”

“No…” Kara gasped, and suddenly Lena felt a trembling hand connect with her own tightly curled fists, “wait… what did you mean ‘get over it’ and ‘accept what we are’?”

Lena sucked in a sharp breath at the question, biting down harshly on her bottom lip.

“Lena?” Kara pressed.

“Fuck it, fine.” Lena snapped, yanking her hands away from Kara’s infinitely soft touch and shoving herself out of her chair before storming away from Kara, desperate for space. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do-” Kara began, taking a tentative step after her.

“No, Kara.” Lena yelled, spinning back to face Kara, with a twisted snarl of total self-loathing. “Liked me.” Lena stressed, before throwing her hands up into the air as it all just boiled out of her, “God, I sound like a teenager. I thought you liked me. I thought you were touching me less because you were attracted to me. But then… I go to your party and you don’t… it was like you were ashamed of me, I sat in that fucking corner for two hours as everyone wished - out loud, I should say - that I would go. I sat in that fucking corner in the hope that you would speak to me for five minutes. For just five minutes. Because that… that would have made it all worth it. But you could barely look at me. And I realised you didn’t - don’t - like me… you’re ashamed of me, but you’re too kind to abandon me. Too noble and generous but even you have your limits. Of course, you didn’t want to spend your birthday talking to me. Of course you didn’t.”

Lena wanted to punch a wall, wanted to down the rest of her whiskey, wanted to do literally anything than be here in this moment watching the horror-struck expression on Kara’s face grow and grow with every word, watch Kara’s body tremble and shake with each harsh sweeping gesture.

“Lena, no… you…” Kara sobbed, striding towards her with fingers twitching at her sides, “you have got the complete wrong end of the stick. Actually, you’re right but also really wrong. And…” Kara swiped aggressively at the tears rolling down her cheeks as she approached Lena, stopping when the raven-haired woman flinched at their sudden closeness. “I screwed up but-”

“No. You don’t need to do this.” Lena cut in, holding a hand up to stop Kara, wanting Kara to know that her guilt was unnecessary and that she could finally be free of Lena.

“Lena, I’m so-”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Lena insisted, taking a deep breath to rein back in her swirl of her emotions. She could do this. She could let Kara go. “You were trying to be kind but you shouldn’t… god, if I make you that miserable, that uncomfortable, you shouldn’t have to force yourself to interact with me.”

“LENA!” Kara bellowed, stamping her foot to the ground and lifting her chin to reveal a determined expression.

Lena blinked in shock at the sudden volume and intensity; falling obediently quiet.

Kara placed her hands on her hips, took a deep breath, looked Lena straight in the eye with earnest, beseeching blue and declared, “I want to kiss you right now because that would be the big sweeping action that would prove to you that I mean what I’m about to say next but… you’ve been drinking… heavily from the looks of things.” Kara shot a displeased pout at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey as if it was all the bottle’s fault for Lena’s current state of inebriation and not the youngest Luthor’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. Kara turned back to face a stunned Lena, with a fond smile, “And I really want our first kiss to be one you remember and one you can fully consent to. So, you’re just going to have to believe me… please, please believe me when I say… I’m in love with you and I fucked up massively tonight. Really, really fucked up.”

“You never swear.” Lena murmured quietly, and it probably wasn’t what she should have been focusing on but her brain was currently stuck like a record scratch unable to fully comprehend what Kara had just told her; and the swear was just the cherry on top of an entire sundae of confusing and out-of-the-blue revelations.

“Which shows how much I believe that I fucked up.” Kara replied with a helpless shrug.

“But-”

“You were the only person I wanted to spend my birthday with.” Kara confessed, “Well, Alex at some point as well. But you mostly. Alex planned the party and I couldn’t…” Kara huffed out a frustrated breath and rolled her eyes, “she did this whole thing and I didn’t want to turn around and say I didn’t want it. That all I really wanted was a quiet night watching films with you because…” Kara sighed, “because then she’d know… To make it more bearable I invited you but there were so many other people, and I will be honest… I don’t even like half of them. Alex, just invited everyone I was friends on facebook with which is not a good barometer of friendship.”

Lena cleared her throat, none of it making sense, “Then why-”

“Did I ignore you?” Kara guessed with a painful wince.

“Yeah…” Lena muttered, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

“Because… because I knew, or at least I thought I knew, that you hadn’t noticed how I felt about you.” Kara explained inching just that little bit closer towards Lena, attempting to bring them within touching distance of one another. “And I knew it was only a miracle that you hadn’t until now because…” Kara smiled a lopsided, rueful and self-deprecating smile, “Lena, I am not subtle. Not at all. And I knew… I knew if I interacted with you at the party… everyone else would be able to tell in an instant how I felt.”

Lena exhaled slow and deep, arms tightening their hold around herself, “And you didn’t want them knowing you liked me?”

“Love. Not like.” Kara corrected, patient yet firm, “Love. And no, I didn’t.”

Lena nodded once in understanding, letting out a hollow laugh, “I get it. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I loved me either.”

“Lena… no… no… you…” Kara rushed to explain, finally stepping close enough to reach out and place her hands gently on Lena’s curled biceps. Lena couldn’t help how she instinctively shifted closer, wanting to increase contact with Kara after being denied it for so long. “I didn’t want anyone knowing before you.” Kara admitted.

And that… that snapped something back into place for Lena.

Made the doubts screaming inside her head quieten down just enough to think… maybe…

Because… it was being last that had broken them the first time. Being the only one not to know and now…

“I didn’t want Stacy, who used to cheat off me in exams in college to know how I felt about you before you did.” Kara said, thumbs moving back and forth against the bare skin of Lena’s arms causing a swathe of goosebumps to rise like a wave in the wake of Kara’s every touch. “They didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve…” Kara’s jaw clenched, eyes darkening as she studied Lena’s face, “I was trying to protect you from them. They said horrible things about you and you should know, the minute after you left, I kicked everyone who so much as looked at you funny out. It was just me, Nia, Brainy and Kelly left… Alex, as well, but we had a rather heated argument before she was allowed to stay.” Kara bowed her head in shame, “I should have kicked them all out immediately but-”

“Then they would have known.” Lena finished for her.

“I had this whole thing planned.” Kara breathed out, her hands gradually shifting away from Lena’s arms around to her back, surrounding Lena in a loose hold, Kara’s eyes flickering over Lena’s face and body rapidly searching for even the slightest sign that Lena was uncomfortable with their contact. “Once everyone left, I had set-up the roof with lights and cushions and… I was going to tell you how I felt. I just had to make it through the birthday party from hell and I was trying so hard to keep to the plan. To not spoil it. To keep it a secret so that it could just be ours but... I…” Kara’s eyes slid shut and she inhaled a shuddering breath filled with pain. “I hurt you. And there is nothing I can say to make you forgive me, but I do… I do love you so much. And I will never, ever be ashamed of you.” Kara blinked her eyes back open and leaned forward to place a kiss on Lena’s forehead. “I just wanted it to be ours and not theirs. I didn’t want to share. You’re the only thing in my life that… I didn’t want to share.”

“Open your present.” Lena demanded, stepping out of Kara’s loving embrace.

“Lena-” Kara whimpered, pained at the sudden loss of closeness.

“Open your present, Kara.” Lena repeated, jerking her chin towards the sofa where the roughly wrapped present lay.

“I… okay…” Kara replied, watching Lena closely as she tried to make sense of Lena’s clear request. Kara walked cautiously over to the couch, picking up the gift with gentle hands. “Did you wrap it yourself?” Kara asked, her entire expression brightening as she stared down at the crooked, over sellotaped wrapping.

Lena harrumphed at the question, pursing her lips.

“You did, didn’t you?” Kara teased.

“The present isn’t the piss poor wrapping.” Lena replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that had the corners of Kara’s lips quirking even further upwards.

“Lena Luthor wrapped my present herself…", Kara whistled in awe, blue eyes twinkling with true delight for the first time that day, "what better gift is there?”

“Open it and you might find one.” Lena said, heart leaping into her throat as Kara’s deft fingers found a line of wrapping paper she could tuck them under.

The sound of paper ripping was deafening in the stillness; all Lena could do was watch and wait.

The paper fell away leaving behind a small black box, Kara shot Lena a hesitant look and it wasn’t until Lena nodded for her to continue that Kara clicked it open.

There was a pause.

A heavy, endless pause in which Lena couldn’t bring herself to even breathe.

“What is-” Kara began before cutting off immediately as she lifted up the beautiful bracelet made of nth metal and inscribed with ‘stronger together’ in Lena’s own cursive handwriting in both english and kryptonian.

The bracelet shined under the lights in Lena’s office, but in Lena’s opinion, Kara’s eyes shined impossibly brighter.

“You’re in love with me.” Kara whispered, seeing the present for everything Lena had hoped it would convey.

“Yes.” Lena confirmed because there was no hiding it now.

With trembling fingers Kara clasped the bracelet onto her wrist, long fingers tracing the words delicately inscribed with no small amount of wonder. Finally, she turned around and stared at Lena with so much sheer love that the youngest Luthor felt overwhelmed and like her heart might burst right out of her chest in its desire to be in Kara’s possession

Clearing her throat and clasping her hands behind her back, Lena gathered her courage and asked, “If I promise you I’ll remember it and that I am fully consenting… will you kiss me now?”

Kara was in front of her in the literal blink of the eye, hands reaching out to cup Lena’s cheeks as Lena’s hands moved to rest on Kara’s hips gently encouraging their bodies closer with a light tug.

“There is nothing I want more.” Kara assured with the widest grin that Lena had ever seen and couldn’t help but return.

Their first kiss could barely count as a kiss.

Their smiles were too wide to allow for it, but Lena wouldn’t change it even slightly. They pressed their smiles against one another, teeth knocking together and noses brushing.

It may not have been a successful kiss but it was tender and filled with so much joy that Lena wouldn’t describe it as anything less than perfect.

Their second kiss was an actual kiss, lips slotting together, tongues seeking each other out and teeth tugging whimpers and moans from one another in an endless cycle.

Their second kiss turned into a third, a fourth, a fifth.

They kissed until the sun rose.

Kissed until their lips ached and any remaining doubts Lena may have had were pushed back into the shadows by the light of Kara’s smile and blue eyes.

#supercorp #supercorp fic

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flowerfan2 · 4 years

Text

The One That Remains

Johnlock, 2k, A03

Summary: Sherlock wakes up in hospital confused... but it all turns out even better than he could have dreamed.

Sherlock’s head feels heavy, and is throbbing dreadfully. There are voices nearby – he can tell they are trying to speak softly, but each sound crashes into him like storm-churned waves against a cliff. His mind is filled with fog and he can’t make sense of what he hears. Regretfully, he lets himself slip back into unconsciousness.

When he wakes again, the pain has faded to a manageable ache. He holds still, not wanting to aggravate his head again, and tries to take stock. In hospital, obviously, but with a minimum of support. He carefully shifts his toes and fingers, and, reassured that nothing catastrophic seems to have taken place, opens his eyes.

“Ah, there you are.” He hears John’s voice as his face comes blearily into focus. “Gave me quite a scare this time, love.” There’s a hand grasping tightly to his, and Sherlock quickly closes his eyes again.

Clearly he has underestimated his condition. John is stubbornly loyal, and surprisingly forgiving, but he doesn’t call Sherlock love, and they don’t hold hands. Not even in hospital, not even when their world seems to be ending. He can count the times they’ve hugged on one hand (and could do so even with the loss of a few fingers). John may be getting over the grief of Mary’s betrayal, and has tentatively agreed to move back in to Baker Street, but things between them are decidedly not at the hand-holding stage, and never will be. John has made that abundantly clear on multiple occasions.

“That’s all right, then,” John says, in apparent reaction to Sherlock’s refusal to open his eyes. “Sleep as long as you want. You’re going to be fine, don’t worry.” Sherlock feels John’s fingers gently push his hair off his forehead, and it’s all he can do not to fling that taunting appendage away. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re safe. You can rest.”

He flees into his mind palace, searching for an explanation for John’s behavior. He quickly eliminates injury to himself – that’s happened dozens of times, and never resulted in physical affection along these lines, in fact it’s much more likely to elicit a reprimand. He’s considering whether John could also have been injured in whatever case resulted in Sherlock’s own hospitalization, but he can’t imagine what would cause John to act in this manner other than some type of love potion and he’s not so far gone that he’s willing to acknowledge the possibility of such nonsense.

No, the only explanation that seems even remotely fitting is that Sherlock is caught in a dream, a dream where his deepest, most secret desires are permitted to see the light of day. A dream where John loves Sherlock.

Sherlock is considering whether he can convince his brain to stay in this dream for at least a short time, enough to measure the length of each of John’s fingers against his own, and possibly hear a few more endearments uttered in John’s quiet just-for-Sherlock voice, when his musings are interrupted by a much less welcome visitor.

“Brother mine, I know you’re not asleep.”

Sherlock hears John chuckle, and then withdraw his fingers from Sherlock’s. Sherlock tenses, forces himself not to grab at John’s hand, but he tells himself he has only dreamed it anyway and tames his unacceptable response. It can’t hurt to lose something you never really had.

John and Mycroft exchange meaningless words, something inane about poor quality coffee, and then Sherlock is alone with Mycroft.

He revises his conclusion. This isn’t a dream, it’s a nightmare, and not even a very interesting one.

“Come now, brother. Open your eyes.”

Sherlock huffs and looks up at Mycroft. Pristine suit, clean shaven, eyes no more tired than usual. Sherlock is clearly not in any unusual danger, nor is the rest of the world.

“When will I wake?” he asks, realizing as he does that his dream Mycroft isn’t likely to know the answer any more accurately than Sherlock himself does.

Mycroft smirks. “You’re wide awake now, Sherlock.”

“I’m not.” Sherlock petulantly flops over on his side, facing away from Mycroft. If dream Mycroft isn’t going to help, he might as well go away and let dream John return. Dream John is lovely. Dream John should stay forever.

“You’ve been drugged. It’s altered you a bit but it will wear off completely soon. Shouldn’t have any lasting effects.”

“Go away.”

“I told John I’d stay until he returned, and I will do so.”

Sherlock twists and looks at Mycroft over his shoulder. “He’s coming back?”

A fond look washes over Mycroft’s face, and that more than anything convinces Sherlock that he’s dreaming. Mycroft’s face is not designed to look fond. It’s not in his programming. “Of course he’s coming back.”

Sherlock presses his face into his pillow and pouts. Mycroft is keeping something from him, but Sherlock can’t weasel it out of him in his present condition. Sherlock needs more data, wants to spring from the bed and examine the situation from every angle, but he’s bone crushingly tired and can’t seem to summon the necessary energy to do it. Maybe John will return, and Sherlock can rest with dream John holding his hand until he has recovered enough to break out of this confusion and return to reality.

John does return, bringing the aroma of coffee into the room. As Mycroft is still present, John comes around to Sherlock’s other side and draws a chair close. Sherlock squints an eye open, and sees John gazing right back at him. He quickly shuts his misbehaving eye. It won’t do to reveal too much, not without more information.

“It’s all right,” John says, his breath fluttering close against Sherlock’s face. A stale almond croissant, apparently, was consumed along with the coffee. Sherlock tosses away this unhelpful deduction and focuses on the much, much more interesting feeling of John’s hand stroking along his forehead and carding through his hair. “You’re okay. It’s just me, love.”

There it is again, that word, it doesn’t make any sense. It’s not for him, it can’t be, it never has been before. Sherlock doesn’t argue, though, he’ll take it, gratefully. John strokes his hand along Sherlock’s forehead again, and despite himself, Sherlock pushes ever so sneakily into John’s soothing touch. He’s rewarded with a soft sound and the feel of damp lips against his cheek, and he wonders if he can dream this dream forever, because it’s the best dream he’s ever had.

But John sits up, saying goodbye to Mycroft as his brother (finally) takes his leave. Now John’s hand is threading through Sherlock’s again, which is acceptable as it is John’s other hand this time, and it gives Sherlock the opportunity to gather further data, to compare this hand with the one previously examined, to shift each of his fingers carefully against the skin of John’s fingers: shorter than his own, nails neatly trimmed, callouses where expected…

Sherlock’s breath catches in his chest, and he freezes. If John notices he doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold Sherlock’s hand as a nurse engages him in vacuous small talk about the weather. But Sherlock has encountered something which sends his dream crashing down around him, which shatters his fantasy so completely that he might as well send John back to Mary and go home to Baker Street, alone and miserable as always. But wait- that’s wrong, John isn’t with Mary any more, Mary is dead, Sherlock knows this, he was just thinking about how John was putting the entire Mary debacle behind him… it occurs to him, like a beam through the fog of his mind, that whatever happened to him must have affected his memory.

Sherlock must have allowed his confusion to show on his face, because John has noticed this time (he does observe, occasionally), and is speaking in his worried doctor voice. But it’s not the same as it used to be, there’s something else going on, sentiment coloring his words. Sherlock can’t stand this, he isn’t able to deduce anything correctly in this state, it’s unacceptable and intolerable and it’s scaring him.

“Sherlock? You okay?”

Sherlock squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear slides down his cheek. Well done, he thinks to himself. Now he’ll definitely believe you’re asleep.

“Hey, it’s okay.” John wipes the tear away with a fingertip. “Don’t cry, love. It’s really okay. Trust me. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s okay.”

Still an idiot, Sherlock thinks. That statement makes no sense. There are any number of things he can be thinking that are decidedly not okay.

“The drugs will wear off soon, Sherlock. You got a low dose, you’ll make a full recovery. Molly went over your results from the last victims, and she’s sure of it.”

Sherlock doesn’t know what Molly Hooper has to do with any of this.

“Come on, relax. Take some deep breaths for me.” John is running his hand over Sherlock’s head again, and Sherlock can feel the offending item hard against his skin. Deep breaths aren’t going to help this situation.

“Tell me what’s wrong, love. Just tell me, let me help.”

That word cuts through him, and Sherlock can no longer control himself. “You’re married,” he spits out, anger and confusion coloring his voice. “Go home to her. Stop torturing me.” He knows it doesn’t make any sense, he knows Mary is gone. But then why is John wearing a ring?

John’s hand pauses in its journey across Sherlock’s forehead, and cups his cheek. “Sherlock, open your eyes.”

Sherlock shakes his head.

“Please,” John says softly, without even a hint of his Captain Watson voice, and Sherlock, helpless against this, complies.

John’s face is so dear, even with a few extra lines he doesn’t quite remember, and his eyes are shining bright as they meet Sherlock’s own.

“I am married,” he says quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Very happily married.” John shifts and pulls something out of his pants pocket and takes Sherlock’s hand in his own. “And so are you.”

Sherlock gasps as John holds up a ring for him to see, and then slips it on to Sherlock’s finger.

“This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming,” Sherlock insists, but John just gazes at him sweetly and presses a coffee-scented kiss to his cheek.

“Wait – stop it – John – this isn’t-”

“It’s okay, love. Just rest easy. You’ll remember soon.”

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock wonders if he is having a panic attack – can you have a panic attack in your dream? If you stop breathing in a dream, what happens then? Do you snap out of the dream when you die? He realizes he’s basing this particular concern on that infernal dreamsharing movie John made him watch, and drags his focus back to John. John, who is shuffling his chair even closer to Sherlock’s bed and leaning down until he’s practically embracing Sherlock.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything until the drugs wore off, it just agitates the victims to realize that their memory is impaired. I should have realized you’d figure it out, though. My brilliant madman.” John is snuggling against Sherlock, and Sherlock can feel the rise and fall of John’s chest against his own.

“Breath with me. Come on. Humor me.”

Sherlock does, his nose practically touching John’s cheek, warm air exchanged between them as Sherlock matches his exhalations to John’s. When the room stops spinning, he pulls his left hand out of John’s grasp, and looks at the ring John placed on his finger. He slides it off, blinking at the familiarity of the sensation, and sees the inscription. The one which remains.

“You had a hard time believing this the first time around, too,” John says. “We each inscribed the other’s rings. Want to see mine?” John tugs his own ring off and shows it to Sherlock. Inside is written conductor of light.

“This is a very detailed dream,” Sherlock says, returning John’s ring to him, and letting John put his own back on his finger again. It settles easily, as if Sherlock’s hand adjusted to its shape long ago.

“A good one?” John asks, his eyes searching Sherlock’s face.

“The very best,” Sherlock says seriously. He doesn’t know what to think as John snuggles – snuggles – back down against him, one arm going around his shoulders as Sherlock lies there dumbfounded. Could John be right? Could they be married? How had Sherlock possibly pulled that off, how had he convinced John Watson to trust him with his heart? It is both too incredible to believe, and at the same time… eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth.

“All right then,” John says, tracing a finger along Sherlock’s collarbone. “Rest a bit. It’ll all come back to you soon, I promise.”

Sherlock lets himself drift off, safe and warm in a way that is perplexingly familiar. When he wakes a few hours later, his husband curled up against him, Sherlock knows this isn’t a dream. It’s his life, his treasured, improbable life, and it’s better than any dream he possibly could have imagined.

#johnlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #johnlock fic

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years

Text

Birthday

[Chris Evans x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: a start to the spooky season inspired fics!

Your guests pile into your home for the party of your life. Another year spun around the sun with many more to come, you saved no expense to ensure your time was spent partying it up as if tomorrow would never come.

The DJ you hired keeps spinning your favorite tracks back to back so you barely have time to make it to the door and greet new guests before your new song would pull your body back to work on that beat with a deep arch in your back.

“Yo, could the host please make they way to the DJ booth please?”

You steady your drink as you snake through the vibrating bodies that catch the contagious rhythms bumping from the speakers.

You shout in his ear, “Hey, Colgate! What’s up?”

He makes a quick song transition with air horns before answering. “I heard somebody was finna call the cops cuz of the noise. Are we about to wrap this thing up or what?”

You look through the crowd suspiciously but the DJ calls your attention.

“It ain’t no one here, it’s a neighbor.”

You nod, “I know. I figure. But no, we won’t be stopping a damn thing tonight. Let them come! It’s my fucking birthday, so play that shit loud and fuckin turn up!”

The DJ shrugs, turning the beat up even louder and letting the bass boom through structure holding your house together. This night would not be interrupted for no one if you had anything to do with it,

As you gulp the last of your drink, you feel like something is off, holding your head as your mind starts to get hazy.

“Hey girl, there’s someone at the door for you. You want me to get rid of him?” a friend of your offers.

You shake your head, taking a deep breath. “No, no. I can handle it. I kind of expected it in a way.”

They nod. “Ok. Don’t bite off more than you can chew. You know what to do if you need anything.”

You thank them, heading for the front door. When you step outside, the cool air wafts around you as you look around and see him standing in the driveway, hands in his pockets and head hung low looking over at you.

You cross your arms up defensively, refusing to take his puppy dog eyes as a means to soften our heart.

“I thought we broke up,” you start.

“”Is that what I said?” he asks, feigning confusion as he grips his chin in thought. “I don’t recall those exact words.”

You stand your ground. “SO what are you doing here Chris? You came to make a fool of me some more on my night?”

He takes a turn at crossing his arms. “Now I made a fool of you? Sweetheart, no one felt more like a fool in our relationship than me.”

You scoff, standing in front of him from a distance now. “Well that’s what every girl wants to hear. I made my man look foolish to be with me, ladies and gentlemen!”

“You know what I mean! Stop twisting my words!” Chris exclaims.

“The day that what you say makes sense is the day I stop twisting them around, as you say.” You look him up and down with disdain before rolling your eyes.

Chris takes a deep breath looking towards your house. “You got a big party going on in there.”

You shrug. “It’s a milestone, so I wanted to make it special. No one else was going to do it for me.”

“If you gave me another chance, I could do that for you, but you won’t give me a chance.”

“What chance is there to give!” You shout out loud, your voice carries down the block. “You don’t want the life I live Chris. You made that abundantly clear that night of the full moon? You looked at me like I was a monster when all I ever wanted was for you to accept me and you tricked me into believing that was possible.”

“Can you blame me for being caught off guard? I thought that you were going to tell me you were a virgin or a recovering alcoholic, but then you go and-”

You hold a hand up. “Shut up!”

Chris claps his hands in frustration, testing his body away from you with disbelief. “That’s what I’m saying! How can you make an assumption of me when you won’t let me-”

“Shut the fuck up Chris! Cops are coming.”

He listens. “I don’t hear…”

A couple seconds pass until the faint squeal of a siren begins to build.

You roll your eyes. “Dammit! Dealing with you, I forgot about figuring who the fuck called the police on my party.”

“Goddammit. I’ll stick around in case of anything.”

You give him a stank look. “No, you may leave. You’re dismissed actually.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Chris says.

“I don’t care what you do but you have GOT to stay out of my business! Especially when it is not yours anymore.”

“It will be my business,” he says under his breath but you catch every word. You see the red and blue light bouncing off the neighborhood surroundings and prepare yourself for the confrontation. As a squad car pulls up, they silence the siren and step out of the car. Two white men step out, hand near their comfort zone.

“What’s going on here tonight?” one asks.

Chris starts the conversation. “Hey guys, it’s my girl’s birthday tonight and we just decided to have a night with some friends to celebrate.”

“Ahh. How old are we, miss?” he asks.

Chris parts his lips before shutting them quickly to look to you.

“A lady never tells their age, sir,” you say with a chill tone.

He smiles at his partner, who looks less amused. “I guess if I ask for some ID that would clear that notion up, wouldn’t it?”

Chris starts again, “Officer, is there a reason you’re questioning her? For God sakes, it’s her birthday!”

“Chris, be quiet,” you hiss at him.

The officer puts his hand on his gun but not out of the holster. “We have every power to question anything we expect to be suspicious.”

“Thing?” you whisper to yourself.

“We will quiet down, if you’re here to warn us, that’s no problem. Sound good?” Chris offers.

The officer remains steadfast. “I already asked for an ID. If I ask twice I will consider this a resisting.”

“You’re damn right it’s resisting. This is a joke,” Chris retorts.

“Chris, if you say another fucking word, I’ll your tongue out myself! Officers!” You demand their attention as you speak to them slowly. “The music is not loud enough to hear from the street and therefore your time is being wasted here. Please go back to your cars and resume your evening elsewhere.”

They stand frozen for a few seconds before taking a relaxed stroll back to their vehicle and driving away. You take a deep exhale, hearing the music in the house pause. You look to your house and see a few people standing outside the door.

“Everything good, madam?” one asks.

“It’s fine! Thanks for checking!” you call back with a wave.

“Shame, I was hoping for a dinner party. Is he part of it?”

You look back to Chris, who still seems to be doing mental math. “No, not the dinner part, anyway.”

“Ugh! You never share!” They slam the door and commence the party in full force.

When you turn back to Chris he starts to work it out.

“Does this have anything to do with what you said on our date during the full moon?” Chris asks slowly.

“Kind of, yes,” you say hesitantly.

“They all know?” he asks.

“They all are a part of my brood so, they definitely know.”

Chris goes quiet, nodding and looking off at the ground. The sickening feeling you got earlier comes rushing back as you start to walk away, but his hand grips your arm quickly.

“What are you doing?”

“Going back to my party,” you say, ripping your arm loose. “People who understand me are there.”

“And I don’t? I just came over here to make amends and seen you mind control two fucking cops to go away and I’m still here!”

“Then why did you react that way before?” you ask quietly.

Chris fumbles with his jacket nervously. “I never wanted to let you go for something that is essentially who you are. You trusted me enough to show me and I want to be receptive. It just caught me off guard, but I wasn’t going to reject you. You rejected me, remember?”

You turn away. Despite him being human, his eyes had a pull that could knock you off your feet if you focused on them. Chris tries to catch your gaze, bending down in front of you.

“Yes, I did. And maybe I...got scared too,” you say, kicking a shoe in the dirt.

Chris snickers, opening his arms wide. “Happy birthday, babe.”

You look up at him with annoyance, all while falling into his chest as his big arms wrap around your back for an uplifting bear hug.

“If you’re here for my birthday, where is my gift?” you look up at him patiently.

He loosens his grips on you while he thinks. “Does an ex get his ex a present on her birthday?”

You nod. “I like presents from my exes. They are truly the best gifts.”

Chris chuckles. “So if I don’t want to be an ex anymore…”

“...then you owe me a big gift, yes. What’s not clicking?” you snort laughing in his face as you push him back.

Chris sits back on his car. “How about this. If you kiss me and you still want to be my ex, I will give you whatever big gift you want.”

“Anything? Be specific, because I’m sure you have a budget.”

“Ouch!” he holds the left side of his chest in theatrical pain. “No, I mean anything you want.”

You meander his way, holding your hands in front of you. “I started this night with every intention of forgetting your face and every memory attached to it.”

“That can still be arranged,” Chris says in a snide tone.

You rest your hands on the hood of his car, right on either side of his thighs. You closed the distance between the two of you so fast, he caught himself with his elbow before falling directly backward.

“But I will play your game if in the end I am getting something I want out of it,” you whisper into his face.

He takes one side of your face, eyes twinkling with cautious care as he pulls you into him, resting your mouth on his. His smell, his touch, his lips welcoming yours made you buckle over him as you slowly melted on top of him. Your leg half straddles him as your hands push into his chest, submitting himself to the weight of your body as he deepens the kiss. You feel your passion building as you search under his shirt for the warmth of his skin and he could provide but stop abruptly looking down at him as he smiles.

“And?” he asks.

You take a pregnant pause, pulling your hand from under his shirt. “I don’t feel anything.”

Chris’ face screws up. “What?”

You stammer, “I mean...I don’t want to get back with you. I really don’t.”

Chris’ eyes roll back in frustration. “Then what do you want?”

You cup his face, sliding your hand down his well trimmed beard and over his Adam’s apple.

“I just want you to look me in the eyes...and relax your neck.”

Chris stares at you a moment, gaze glazing over as your directive reaches him. You feel his muscles relax under you as his heart rate slows under your fingertips.

“I’m sorry this one will have to show, but just assume it is a cut from shaving.” You unhinged your mouth as you sink your fangs into his neck, enjoying the hot flow of his rich blood filling you up. He gasps, gripping your waist at first from the initial puncture then letting out a long labored groan as his strength is drained.

When you finish, you lick the remnants from his neck, kissing his wound for good measure as you sit up satisfied.

“You’ll wake up in 5 minutes, go home and sleep. When you wake up, you’ll meet me at a park for the first time and we will go out on a date.”

You slide off of him, looking at him with pity. Such a big man taken down yet again by you.

“You’re still keeping him alive?” A voice from the house calls.

You smile down at the unconscious Chris. “I like him. He’s fun.” You look back at your partymate. “You’re just mad you can’t keep a supply for yourself like me!”

They hiss at you. “You are so tired. I like my meal hot and fresh while you’re stuck on last week’s leftovers, who will only become more obsesses with you, the more you feed if you recall! Happy 290th by the way!”

Just then Chris began to stir. You trot your way back to the house, checking back at Chris one last time from your front door. You swear next time you’ll treat him better. Too bad he tastes so good.

#chris evans fic #shakafic

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biitchofthewild · 4 years

Text

Howdy, welcome to my sideblog.

Carrd for if you don't want to read this post (I literally just copy+pasted my DNI from my carrd lmao)

DNF IF ANY OF THE FOLLOWING APPLIES TO YOU:

Under 17, Anti-ship/Pro-harassment/Pro-censorship in fiction, any form of LGBTQ-phobic, exclus, transmed, believe "Queer is a slur", TERF/SWERF, anti-kink/kink critical, anti-Black Lives Matter, anti-ACAB, use religion to excuse bigotry, pedophile or support/defend pedophiles, victim blame SA/CSA survivors, turn a blind eye to predators in your community(/ies), excuse death threats/suicide bait/threats of violence, pro-"life"/anti-choice, refer to CSEM/CSAM as "C//////P" or "child p////rn

(list may be added to in the future)

Basic things to know about me ->v

Name(s): Katt or Jordan, though René, Link, Grell, Harley, Mikey, and Key are also 100% acceptable

Language: English. I want to learn Korean and ASL

Nationality: American (unfortunate, I know, but it wasn’t my idea /j)

Race: Mixed. I primarily identify as Black, though I'm also part Native American (muscogee/creek and blackfoot) and white (really I'm more white than I am Native but I don't like to think about that)

Gender & Orientation: Queer (demiromantic/arospec, sex repulsed aego-pansexual gay nonbinary man); I'm Genderfluid, my pronouns are He/Him, They/Them, Xe/Xim, Kit/Kits, or literally any pronouns you see fit that aren't "she/her" or "it/its"

I am a fiction-kin. The main characters I kin at the moment are Link, Grell, Harley Quinn, Alois Trancy, Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir, and Sebastian/Glam from Metal Family. I don't believe I am these characters, but I heavily relate to them in different ways.

I AM PRO-CHOICE. If this wasn’t already made abundantly clear by my DNI/DNF, bio/description, about, or just the stuff I’ve been posting on here since, what October 2019?, this better make it obvious.

I'm a spoonie due to chronic vertigo, migraines, and possibly POTS and hEDS

I'm autistic as well as ND in other ways (not yet medically validated). I also have very low empathy (on an empathy quotient test I scored a 16.0). I use tone indicators sometimes, but if I don't and I end up coming off as mean/rude, I simply don't have the energy to mask anymore. I'm naturally pretty monotone/deadpan, even in my sense of humor, and it can and will translate into text. No, I will not apologize if your feelings get hurt.

Likes (bolded = special interest, italicized = hyperfixation): Music (especially rock, r&b, and Kpop, but I’m not picky about genre), BOTW, Animals (especially snakes), Horror, Greek mythology, Witchcraft, A:TLA, TLOK, BNHA, Beastars, The Umbrella Academy, Singing, Rapping, Dancing, Stuffed toys, Stimming, Hannibal, Sewing, Mantids, Tarantulas & Jumping spiders, Butterflies, Mermaids, Dragons, cartoons, anime, Ice cream, Cheesecake, Baking, Miraculous Ladybug, Animal Crossing (dm or send an ask off-anon for my friend code :3), MLP, LoliRock, Metal Family, medical dramas (specifically The Good Doctor, Grey's Anatomy, and House M.D.)

Dislikes: Most bugs (especially beetles), small cracks, loud noises that I can't control, broccoli

If you have any questions feel free to DM me or send me an ask off-anon so I can answer privately. Ableist bullshit will not be tolerated.

[Image ID: A gif of the character Grell Sutcliffe from the anime Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji. She is blushing, winking, and blows a kiss, making a baby pink heart appear and bounce from her hand towards the viewer, quickly moving upward. END ID]

#pinned post #personal #long post #pro ship

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midnightactual · 3 years

Text

@mysteriousshopkeeper submitted:

“Yoruichi-san! I’m glad I caught you. I… thought you might be on a beach somewhere by now, since you just hosted a significant holiday party. In any case…” His fingers were idly tapping on something clasped between them as a subtle change came over his demeanor, like curtains being drawn open. “There are some… things I’ve been meaning to say. And considering my track record… I thought it best to let someone else say them.” His hands moved forward, and before she could object, he’d captured one of hers and pressed his gift into it.

Once she’d unwrapped it, she’d find herself holding a vintage, authentic Sony Walkman WM-D6C, in perfect working order, pre-loaded with a cassette – not just any commercial label, no, no – but a genuine, bona fide, old-fashioned mixtape. He’d invested considerable time and effort in selecting songs that suited his sentiments, first building a playlist on Spotify. He hadn’t even known all of them before he started searching, but he certainly did know them when he heard them. A tentative smile encroached on his lips. “At first it didn’t have tangible form, but as you can imagine, it proved difficult to wrap, so… I made this.”

The exercise had presented him with a delicate balance to maintain. His relationship with Yoruichi was… complicated. Lately, he’d come to the reluctant realization that what he’d been giving her was not what she needed from him, at least not here, not now. But disillusionment had proven a sticky, time-consuming process. Would-have-beens and could-yet-bes clung like lint to an old sweater; every time he looked, he found more, and some were nearly indistinguishable from the knit. He’d begun the process at the outset of what had become an unexpectedly eventful couple of weeks, but it had been time well-spent; the effort had had a clarifying — and surprisingly calming — effect. Each day was a process of refining and crafting, loosely following a rubric laid out in a movie he’d seen once. As a finishing touch, he’d even added liner notes, just to arrange specific lyrics into a unified narrative. The result was a musical, emotional journey that moved through a spectrum of humor, introspection and encouragement.

Because there was still, at the base of it all, that deep and abiding foundation of their friendship. The pedestals and shrines he’d erected in her honor weren’t serving either of them; it was time for a little iconoclasm, a little restructuring. Perhaps they could begin afresh and he would, again, be dependably her friend. He was aware that this playlist may not reflect her musical tastes, but it wasn’t so much about winning her heart as revealing his —she’d long deserved that much from him. Besides — at this point, what had he to lose? He’d quit castles in the sky for solid ground.

“Happy birthday, Yoruichi.” His face met hers with a soft, bright smile. “If you go, you’ll have something to take with you. And if my company would be welcome…” And here, the smile grew a bit dubious. “—I’d offer to go with you. I’d even make the arrangements; I could use a change of scene myself. You’d get good massages given on good behavior, with no lip service—” He smirked grimly, realizing how difficult it was for him to suggest without selling. “That is to say, I’d enjoy giving them. Quietly. But should you choose to stay, and celebrate your birthday here with us this year, I wouldn’t min—" Again, he caught himself; his face clouded for an instant, then cleared, transparent and a bit wistful, as he half-turned to make his graceful exit. “Rather, I would very much like that.”

Liner Notes

Listen on Spotify!

We Go Together / David Tennant & Catherine Tate - Lyrics We go together like the news and the weather / We fit like hand in glove! It’s All Been Done / Barenaked Ladies - Lyrics And if I put my fingers here, and if I say / “I love you, dear” / And if I play the same three chords, / Will you just yawn and say ‘I’m bored’ / It’s all been done Partners in Crime / Arkarna - Lyrics As I feel, we are, we must go on, I will stand, with you, forever / Ever more / But without you it’s a bore, It’s no fun breaking the law / Anymore, anymore, my partner in crime True Colors / Justin Timberlake & Anna Kendrick - Lyrics Show me a smile then / Don’t be unhappy, can’t remember / When I last saw you laughing / If this world makes you crazy / And you’ve taken all you can bear / You call me up / Because you know I’ll be there Paradise Valley / Honey and the Sting - Lyrics Take what you want from me / I bring it willingly / The paradise valley Got Your Back / Mike Taylor - Lyrics If you need a friend to party - I got your back / If you wanna get naughty - I got your back / Just tell me where to hide the body - I got your back

Somewhere Only We Know / Keane - Lyrics And if you have a minute why don’t we go / Talk about it somewhere only we know? / This could be the end of everything / So why don’t we go / Somewhere only we know? We Belong / Pat Benatar - Lyrics We belong to the light / We belong to the thunder / We belong to the sound of the words / We’ve both fallen under / Whatever we deny or embrace / For worse or for better / We belong, we belong / We belong together

I Won’t Give Up / Jason Mraz - Lyrics And in the end, you’re still my friend at least we did intend / For us to work we didn’t break, we didn’t burn / We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in / I had to learn what I’ve got, and what I’m not / And who I am Clear the Area / Imogen Heap - Lyrics You find your way back down. / And I’ll keep the area clear…please clear the area. / When you find your way back down…in one piece / Then I’ll just be waiting here…right here. / Slowly…darling…nobody means any more to me than you. Fortress Around Your Heart / Sting - Lyrics And if I’ve built this fortress around your heart / Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire / Then let me build a bridge / For I cannot fill the chasm / And let me set the battlements on fire

Undercover / Pete Yorn - Lyrics And we held and we tried / There was hardly lust between us / I will love you / I won’t let go / ‘Cause we are one inside these walls / Undercover

Black Heart Inertia / Incubus - Lyrics You’re a mountain that I’d like to climb / Not to conquer, but to share in the view / You’re a bonfire and I’m gathered ‘round you / Set this old black heart inertia aflame Invincible / Muse - Lyrics ‘Cause there’s no one like you in the universe / Don’t be afraid / What your mind conceives / You should make a stand / Stand up for what you believe / And tonight / We can truly say / Together we’re invincible

Yoruichi was actually a bit surprised when her hand was taken and the classic piece of audio kit was pressed into it, not having expected such a forward approach. For want of any other recourse—it was her birthday, and it was a gift, apparently given very sincerely considering his affect… what else could she do but take it?—she willingly grasped the Walkman and heard him out.

She was in for another surprise at how little he had to say, comparatively. Sure, some of the usual banter and salesmanship eventually filtered in, but the facade was cracked and the underlying sincerity streamed through the act like sunlight through mist, burning it off right before her very eyes. It was striking, and she stared at the spectacle of it, growing increasingly uncertain.

And then, just like that he… left? She was sufficiently taken aback by what he’d said—and how he’d said it—that she hadn’t yet had time to formulate a reply when he was turning and departing. Her mouth opened, but no sounds came out of it, and by the time she thought of something to say—even just, ‘Wait’—he was gone.

She stared after him for long seconds before shutting her mouth and looking at the Walkman that’d been handed to her. She considered it for several moments more before going to a closet drawer. She already owned a pair of vintage Walkman headphones with orange foam earpieces; they seemed the most appropriate thing to use to listen, and listening seemed to be the only thing to do.

Considering both components, she put the headset on, plugged it in, and clicked play. There was a delightfully mechanistic moment as the button sank in, giving that chunky, electromechanical experience you simply couldn’t get with fully digital electronics. It made her nostalgic as the first song began, and she listened, at first just standing where she was. The first song was a bit cornball, and she wondered if the whole mixtape would be that way, eventually sitting on the edge of her bed. But by the third song she was up and pacing about as she listened, a pit growing in her stomach.

By the seventh, she had retreated from her bedroom entirely, going to her bathroom almost on autopilot. Some part of her knew it was even farther away from scrutiny—harder to reach, harder to be heard from, even if her rooms and the building itself were very well soundproofed. Some other part of her felt almost ill. And then there were her eyes.

Crying had never been acceptable. That had been made abundantly clear to her from the very beginning. She didn’t cry. She hadn’t since she’d been a toddler. She’d watched her kōhai have a breakdown without crying. She’d torn off her own arm without crying. She’d cradled her little brother after he’d been shot through the heart three times without crying. As she leaned on the wall beside the tub, she almost didn’t recognize the pressure around her eyes. Her motions were automatic, and she clambered into the dry basin while she fought to keep herself under control. Things started getting blurry as a titanic clash raged within her.

Yet the music kept going, and she refused to stop it. Trembling with held in sounds, she finally punched the stone tiles before her. The strike wasn’t very hard by her standards, although it pushed her gigai—but it wasn’t enough to even chip the rock. Her arm stayed extended and she ground her knuckles into the rough surface, before retracting and striking again. And again. And again and again and again, until the stone was smeared with her blood and her hand throbbed and ached in protest.

The pain wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to compete with what was already filling her, and she gasped as it became overwhelming, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she lost and it became entirely impossible to see. Her sobs were silent at first, wracking her whole body, before she smacked the bottoms of both fists against the wall, leaning forward to put her forehead on it as she finally let out a noise, something between a growl and a low wail.

She beat against that wall ineffectually, clenching her jaw as she still tried to keep it all in, trying to refuse this, but it was no use. ‘Volatile’ was wholly inadequate to describe the mixture of emotions flowing through her—it was a hypergolic cocktail that was already ablaze and demanded venting. And so, finally, she tipped her head back and screamed. Agony. Frustration. Despair. Self-loathing. Rage. Sorrow. Regret. It had all built and built, not just lately but for far, far longer, and she had no choice but to let out all the fruits of her failures at once now, like some kind of ravening nuclear death beam rendered in sound.

What her reiatsu did in response, she had no idea and no care to know. Presumably the gigai kicked in to contain it, but she was caught up in the maelstrom, a billion light years away from such concerns. She cried out and pounded at the wall until there was nothing left, until she was hoarse, until she was empty, until she was panting from the intensity of the chemicals unleashed, until her tears carried away enough of their torrent that she could breathe.

Spent and dazed, she slumped back, then outright toppled back against an edge of the tub, sinking down and shivering. Still, the music played, and it drew her back to the moment. She could think of doing nothing but flopping onto one side and curling up in a fetal position, desperately hugging herself and simply trying to be small, wishing to just disappear entirely. She stayed that way for a long time.

#In Character #Long Post #Music #submission #mysteriousshopkeeper #Identifier: MERCURY GREEN #Verse: BLEACH MAIN #Era: IMPERIAL

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elareine · 4 years

Note

For the easter prompts how about any of the regency aus + jaytim? My favourite is 7, but I also like the two other ones :)

As you’ve probably figured out, I am trying to singlehandedly make Regency one of the most-used DC fic tropes lol Thank you for this 💙

Tim had been married for two months now. He still did not know how to feel about this.

On the one hand, at least he did not have to live with his parent’s disapproval after they caught him with the stable boy anymore. It had been humiliating. His mother—Tim still woke up sometimes with the memory of her biting words, bathed in sweat. Dishonor. Disgusting. Worthless.

Until Jason Peter Todd, newly minted Marquis of Newsham, had applied for his hand.

Under normal circumstances, his parents would never have acquiesced. As it was, an upstart male lordling with a reputation as a rake was as good as they could hope for, as his father informed him. Tim was told to accept, and he did. It had been a relief to leave his parents’ house for good.

On the other hand… Jason was sweet. He went out of his way to make Tim feel welcome, keep him comfortable, and kept trying to act like they were a regular married couple, and Tim could not stand it anymore.

Something had to give, and one morning, it was Tim’s patience. “You don’t need to call me that,” he snapped.

Jason lowered the newspaper and frowned at him. “Call you what?”

As if he didn’t know what he’d been doing! “Sweetheart,” Tim ground out. “You call me sweetheart, and darling, and love.”

“Do you not like those? Should I call you something else?”

“There’s no need to pretend,” Tim made himself say. As much as he wanted to believe all of this, as easy it was to sink into—it was just a pretty illusion. He’d had just about enough of these.

“Pretend what?”

“That you love me. I know that’s not why you married me.” Tim was proud of himself. That had sounded entirely calm and reasonable.

Jason’s expression, however, was one of outrage. “Do you think I married you for the money?”

“No,” Tim hastened to assure him. “I know you are being kind.”

Jason stared. “Kind? Now what on Earth—Tim. What about wanting to marry you makes me kind?”

Tim felt himself flush. Now that Jason said it out loud, it sounded a tad ridiculous. “Well, because of the scandal, of course.”

“…what scandal?”

“There is no need to pretend. Everyone knows.”

“Tim.” Jason’s voice was serious now. “I have no intention of making fun of you, but I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I was… caught.” Tim swallowed. He had not loved the boy; he had merely seen him as a way to live a part of himself that he had never been allowed to before. Still, the memory hurt. “With someone unsuitable. In… in public. You must have heard. It was the talk of the town for weeks.”

“Oh, Tim. I’m sorry.”

The amount of compassion in Jason’s face was enough to make Tim’s eyes burn. No one… no one had ever told him that before. Hastily, he wiped the tears away with his sleeve.

Jason gave him time to compose before he continued, voice soft: “I promise I did not know. I was away on the continent then, escorting a shipment. And when I came back, knowing that I had enough money to support us, I came straight to your parents.”

“Oh.” Tim’s mind whirled. But—but that meant—

“So no, it was not because of the scandal. And even if,” Jason’s tone held a note of bite in it now, “why would I do it if I did not love you?”

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “I thought you were trying to be a good husband because you felt sorry for me.”

A sigh. “Your opinion of me is far higher than I deserve.” Was that a smile? “I pull you close because I like the way you fit against me, Tim. I invite you into my bed because I desire you.” He paused, eyes suddenly turning sad, as if what Tim was saying just sank in. “I asked you to marry me because I wanted to and hoped you feel the same.”

“I do!”

Jason had been a frequent visitor in Tim’s dreams even before he found out that the other man liked to drink an ungodly amount of tea, had a sweet tooth that rivaled Tim’s, looked incredible on a horse, and talked to his hounds like they were friends. He’d adored Jason before he knew how the other looked in his sleep, slumped over his desk or in his armchair because he had not been able to put his book down. Had loved him long before he was the recipient of that broad smile every morning. He’d just fallen ever more deeply every day.

“I do,” he repeated earnestly, “I was just being dense, I suppose.”

“That,” Jason chuckled, “seems to be abundantly clear.”

There was something watchful in his gaze, however, something that told Tim that he had done more damage to their relationship than he had intended.

He would just have to reassure him, then. Tim got up from his chair and approached Jason with a smile, climbing into his lap without a single worry about not being welcome.

For a long minute, he was too preoccupied with the feeling of those lips on his, those hands on his back, those thighs underneath him, to appreciate what was happening. Then it sunk in: He was kissing his husband at their breakfast table, in their living room, in their house, and no one could do a damn thing about it.

Tim pressed closer and enjoyed himself.

By the time the kiss ended, they were both red-faced and breathing quickly. “So now that we have settled this,” Jason’s grin was wolfish, “I believe there are some husbandly duties I have been neglecting for far too long…”

(I’m taking prompts for Easter!)

#jaytim #elareine writes #apparently my current state of jaytim thinking is 'stalk each other for years without talking about it'

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

Text

Lilith Clay is one of those characters that I never ever would actually want to be friends with, because she would be EXHAUSTING.

But as a reader? I adore her, because she is amazing and when allowed to be, hilariously entertaining.

For the record, I have been maintaining for decades....forget your headcanons about Donna being like a big sister to Jason in his Robin years, or all the back and forth about Kory and Roy as Jason’s friends now instead of Dick’s.

No. The true potential....and the true danger....has always been if Lilith had decided to take Jason under her wing.

(On a whim, no doubt, as that’s how she decides most things. including whether or not she feels like getting up and superheroing today or if she’s going to just sleep through the alarm indicating intruders in the Tower and trust the others to handle it. Like if they can’t, they’re probably all going to be killed by the intruders anyway, whether she’s in bed or out of it, and no one’s going to care at that point. Whereas if she doesn’t get at least three more hours of sleep, she’s going to be cranky all day and she absolutely will take it out on everyone. So really, trusting in her friends’ capabilities and ensuring she’s not a cranky bitch at them all day after they’ve just fought off intruders in their own home - when you think about it, really, isn’t this the most noble choice available to her right now?

Welcome to the mind of Lilith.)

So yes, I maintain the real Titan to worry about Jason catching the attention of, is and always was....Lilith.

Like, the very first time Dick brought Jason to the Tower and introduced him to everyone, it would have been perfectly in character for her to wander into the room deliberately late, managing to somehow look like she was gliding, because she practices that the same way the Batfamily practices walking without making noise. And then ignore everyone else and just zero in on Jason, point a finger straight at him, and intone in the same ringing inflections she uses to tell the team she’s had a vision about the end of the world:

Lilith: Him. I see his potential, just waiting to be unlocked. The Bat knows not what he has there, but I will mold this young man like the Clay from which I take my name, and he will be. A legend.

Jason: ....huh?

Dick, throwing up his arms: This! This is why I didn’t want to bring Jason to the tower. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Bruce just thought I was being a jerk because I’m mad about the Robin thing still, or that I was just being possessive of my team but no. I KNEW putting the two of you in the same room was a bad idea, and it was going to bite me in the ass big time. I even told Donna this was going to happen.

Donna: Its true, he did. I can confirm.

Lilith: Look, Dick, I just really really think he has a lot of potential and there’s a lot I can teach him and I promise I’ll be super careful with him and I won’t break him...

Dick: See, its the fact that you think “I won’t break him” is a legitimate reassurance to make about being around a thirteen year old that concerns me. Along with fifteen million other things.

Lilith: Ugh. Fine. Well if you’re gonna be a little bitch about it, I might as well tell you I’ve seen a great calamity coming, and he’s going to play an important role in it and only I can make sure he’s prepared in the way he has to be, or it could mean the end of everything! Now is not the time to be all Neurotically Overprotective Bat Big Brother, Dick, the fate of the world is at stake!

Dick: Well when you put it that way....I don’t believe you.

Lilith: Great, so now you’re calling me a liar?

Wally: You lie all the time, Lil. Just last week you told me I was going to die before the end of the year because you were mad I recorded over your Real Housewives on the DVR.

Lilith: Stay out of this Wally or I’ll prove myself right.

Dick: Nooooot helping your case, Lil.

Lilith: Okay fine, but I only lie about stuff I don’t care about. This is obviously different!

Jason unobtrusively sidles over to Garth, whose usual calm face alongside the chaotic back and forths of his teammates makes him stand out as the clear island of sanity in the room.

I mean, Jason’s totally wrong on that count, Garth’s as ridiculous as the rest of the OG Titans and Lilith. He just has a really great poker face.

Jason: I think I just figured out why Dick labeled the bottle of Ibuprofen in his bathroom “Lilith Pills.” So is this like...should I be worried about her uttering some Chosen One prophecy sounding shit, or is she just full of shit like Dick’s saying?

Garth, considering the matter gravely, so as not to give Jason the wrong idea. Just. Its hard to know what would be the wrong idea here.

Garth: The problem is, with Lilith, those things aren’t as mutually exclusive as one might hope.

Jason: Oh. So she might be for real? I knew one of Dick’s teammates was a psychic and had visions sometimes, but Bruce’s face did that twisty thing when he mentioned that. Like, where he looks like he just took a shot of some bad vodka and that means he doesn’t believe someone’s for real but he can’t prove it. But also, sometimes he only looks like that because he just doesn’t like that someone’s for real and he can’t prove otherwise.

Garth: Good eye. If you’ve picked up on that already, you’re clearly insightful. That’s very good. You’ll need it, in this place. And yes, Lilith is legitimately a precognitive and does have visions of the future sometimes. Its just...

Jason: Its just what?

Garth squeezing out the words reluctantly because he doesn’t like speaking ill of his teammates, even though Lilith absolutely knows her own reputation and sculpted it with zeal as she says remaining unpredictable is the key to never being taken for granted...

Garth: Its just that Lilith is a bit like Cassandra of Troy....if Cassandra had prophesied the Trojan War and nobody believed her but the reason was not because of some divine curse, but because Cassandra had a bad habit of saying things like “We should invade Greece first or else they’re going to invade us,” because she was bored.

Jason: ...gotcha.

Garth: And I’m not saying Lil is....I don’t mean she does it on that kind of scale....so much as just...an example of that kind of thing. So to speak.

Jason: So listen to everything Lilith says, but take everything she says with several grains of salt, and as soon as you’ve got some free time, maybe examine those grains of salt under a high-powered microscope just to be on the safe side.

Garth: Exactly. Congratulations, you’re now as prepared to survive Lilith as anyone can be.

Jason: Survive, huh?

Garth: We’re all still kind of hoping she’ll grow into being responsible with her powers while accepting this might just be her version of being responsible with her powers.

Jason: I am maybe no longer as jealous of Dick being the leader of his own team.

Garth: Hey, then you’ve already got your big brother beat. It took us three years before he’d admit regretting he ever volunteered to be team leader.

Anywho....

Buckle in, because I’m in a Lilith mood this week, so am gonna get lengthy about her and her appeal as a character to me, lol.

Like, the first thing you gotta understand about Lilith, is she is the uncontested reigning queen of drama. And don’t even try and come for her crown. She will destroy you. Dramatically.

This is a woman who repeatedly makes herself costumes that have a full on cloak - not a cape, but a CLOAK - so that when she flares it dramatically, its not like a sheet of fabric that’s normally hanging from her back but now swishes around her front, no, she’s got a full on CLOAK that when it flares dramatically, the whole damn thing is moving and swishing and flying every which way.

And because that isn’t enough, she also makes a point to have a hood - and not just a cast shadows covering your face hood, a full on DROWN EVERYTHING WITHIN THAT HOOD IN TOTAL DARKNESS Hood. The kind of Aesthetic that doesn’t just happen naturally with hoods. You have to have that shit custom made.

And does she need this hood for any particular reason? Is her secret identity super top secret? No. It is not. She barely ever even has one. Her civilian name is no big deal if it gets out.

Look, she just really needs the hood, okay.

And sure, one time she came back after being away from the Titans for a few years, and pretended to be a complete stranger who didn’t identify herself as ‘your old pal Lilith” and refused to divulge any personal details, or like....go anywhere without her full cloak and hood identity-shrouding regalia.

And did she need to hide her identity and be super secret hush hush for any particular reason? No, she did not.

Look, she just really didn’t want to tell anybody who she was, cuz then it’d be a whole thing and everyone would be like omg where have you been, tell us everything, and can’t a girl just wanna fight bad guys and save the world and just show up and then clock out and keep it professional? Like, she was just having that kind of a week, is all.

If that week lasted about two years, well that’s the calendar’s fault, not hers.

This is a woman whose base powerset has always been telepathy with a side of apocalyptic visions, but beyond that has gained additional powers at various points over the years.

Like telekinesis. Which she legit, literally had, spelled out definitively in canon as an ability of hers, which she had and could use.

But that she only ever used to levitate.

Thus allowing her to hover. Dramatically. In her cloak and hood. At all times. For no reason.

To be perfectly, abundantly clear: she could fly, but did she fly? Nah. Instead she’s like “is it not enough to just use one’s telekinesis to merely hover in place above everyone else? Dramatically?”

Or teleportation. That was another power she acquired randomly at one point. Mostly inexplicably.

And which she only ever used to teleport into a crowded room so she could impart Urgent Tidings of DOOM. Or to teleport out of a crowded room when people got a little too noisy with the whole “can you give us any more details? A time frame, a context, a guest list for this particular doomsday?” She’s like, look, I just had the vision, its not like I took notes, I’m not some kind of nerd. UGH.

And then dramatically teleporting out of the room with a dramatic swirl of her dramatic cloak.

There were hardly any limitations given for her teleportation, given that there was hardly any context ever given for her teleportation, but there was no sign of any particular limit to how far she could teleport or if she could take anyone with her.

Was this ever explored as a possible advantage for the whole team to make use of in some way? No. But given that its Lilith, its actually NOT a plothole that noted strategist and master tactician Dick Grayson at no point is ever shown asking Lil if they could try seeing if she could teleport with someone else.

See, because Lilith doesn’t LIKE when people know exactly what she can do.

Because then they have the pesky habit of like....asking her to do them.

That, she does not care for.

So those conversations would probably have gone something like this.

Dick: Lilith, do you think you could teleport with someone else? If you could teleport the whole team, that would be very useful to know.

Lilith: So what is it about me, exactly, that makes you look at me and think: this is a soccer mom van? Is it my hair? My posture? Or do I just give off a certain vibe?

Dick: That wasn’t....*sigh* Never mind.

Or....

Dick: Lilith, do you think you could teleport from the Tower here to Gotham?

Lilith: I’m sorry, do I work for you? Am I getting paid? No, no and no to the power of I’m trying to take a nap here. You can take an actual cab home like any normal person, I do not come in shades of yellow and I never go beep-beep.

Dick: I wasn’t asking you to...look, I’m purely trying to establish a baseline for your teleportation.

Lilith: And I’m purely trying to establish a hard line for respecting my right to privacy. You don’t need to know every little thing about me and my powers just so you can jot that down in your little Bat Trapper-Keeper notebook where you anally note every other thing nobody actually needs to know, like a record of your poops.

Dick: I don’t do that....no. Nope. Not doing this.

Lilith: Well is there a reason you’re keeping me from sleeping then? Some of us actually need a certain number of hours of rest to function. We don’t all hang upside down in coffins once a week while our Bat-butler tops off our tanks with IVs of blood.

Dick: Its the middle of the day, you’re in the common room, and you’ve been watching a Real Housewives marathon for the last four hours.

Lilith: Oh, so now you’ve been spying on me this whole time? Where does it end, Dick? Where. Does. It. End.

Dick: Never mind. I just realized I’m not getting paid for this either. I’m gonna go do something productive, like bang my head against a wall.

And then he’d leave while regretting everything, and Lilith would settle back onto the couch smirking because she’s not actually a terrible person and refrains from doing shit like that in actual high stakes situations, but at any other time, successfully running out the clock on Dick Grayson’s Bat-tier patience is like, Peak Entertainment in her book. Wally meanwhile has been sitting on the couch unacknowledged the whole time.

Wally: Why are you like this.

Lilith *shrugging*: I blame my mother.

Wally: You don’t even know who your parents are.

Lilith: Way to rub it in, West! You wanna go? Huh?

Or one more for good measure....

The Titans could be in the middle of a battle far enough away from the Tower they had to take their jet to get there....and out of nowhere, Lilith would teleport in mid-battle, hovering just overhead, and conveniently appearing right between Roy and a villain who’d been sneaking up on him but now was stumbling back in shock and then is backhanded through a building all the way on the other side of the street by Donna, who also only noticed him when Lilith’s arrival drew everyone’s attention there.

Lilith to Roy, whilst hovering (dramatically): I just saved your life there. You’re welcome. You owe me now, but in a few years you’re going to have a super hot brother and if you get him to go out with me, I’ll call us even.

Roy: ....I don’t know what to do with that.

Lilith: There’s a good chance he’s gay, but he could just as easily be bi. Hard to say. The spirits aren’t big on outing people years ahead of schedule.

Roy: Yeah that doesn’t help any.

Lilith: That sounds like a you problem then. Well, my work here is done.

Lilith then proceeds to teleport away. The battle is not actually over yet.

And then of course, we can’t forget that time she got light and fire powers.

Which.

I feel like by this point, I probably don’t have to spell out the hazards of pyrokinetic Lilith.

That of course, led to what at the time was thought to be the culmination of Lilith’s lifelong quest to figure out where she came from and who her parents were.

Because of course Lilith’s backstory has to be as dramatic as everything else about her, this quest took the whole team to Mt. Olympus itself.

Where it was established that Lilith’s development of light and fire abilities were because she was finally coming into her true power...as the daughter of one of the Titans of old....the Titaness of the sun, who had conceived Lilith as a weapon she intended to use to kill all the Olympian gods so she and the other Titans could reclaim their thrones.

Y’know. As one does. Some parents have kids to continue the family name, some for the tax breaks, and some to assassinate their other kids, the Greek gods. No big deal.

Anyway. There is a case to be made that ridiculously high parental expectations are a big part of why Lilith is Like That.

Granted, she was Like That long before she even knew who these parents were, let alone their expectations, but perhaps parental expectations this ridiculously high transcend the usual ordering of time and space. Who can say, really.

Of course, despite how dramatic and difficult Lilith can be at times, and the zeal with which she occasionally torments others whose only real crime was Existing Within Her Vicinity And Thus Totally A Valid Target....

Like, her heart has always always always been in the right place. She is a hero through and through, and has never wavered from doing the right thing when it really matters, or protecting people.

So needless to say, she wasn’t exactly on board with her long lost mom’s life plan for her. Even if that argument did veer more towards “You made me grow up on Earth and think you still get a vote in how I live my life? Hah! Do you have any idea how much Earth sucks?”

Her teammates, who all live on Earth: Hey!

Lilith: What? Oh shut up, you all know its true. Don’t @ me, I’m right.

(Another missed opportunity that I maintain would be perfectly in character for her...I like to imagine that Lilith’s visions sometimes let her glimpse memes and pop culture references years before they become a thing, and so she’s always making references no one else gets and when they call her on it, she insists they’ll get it someday, its not her fault she’s a trend precursor rather than a follower. And of course, the references she makes are only actual memes from the future some of the time. The other times she’s just pulling them out of her ass to see if she can get them to catch on with anyone).

Anyway, Lilith’s overbearing mom, who absolutely is one hundred percent the source of her daughter’s Drama, if that is at all something that can be passed down as a hereditary trait....of course tries to make Lilith play ball.

Dick, flopping down right on the spot, wishing he had popcorn: Oh my god, someone who isn’t me trying to get Lil to do what they want her to do and with not a chance in hell of succeeding. You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment. Nobody talk during the movie, I need to savor every second of this.

Of course, everyone who’s ever been in a room with Lilith already knew how that movie was going to end, so ultimately Lilith’s evil Titan mom and her nefarious plots were defeated by her daughter’s Obstinacy.

That didn’t mean, however, that repercussions of Lilith’s newly revealed origins didn’t linger.

Dramatically.

Lilith: Anyway, so that’s what I think we should do next. So hop to it, Titans! Let’s get a move on.

The rest of the Titans sit around their living room eating breakfast and watching the TV and just in general not budging.

Wally: And you suddenly think you’re in charge because...why? Exactly?

Lilith: Our team is the Titans? I am an actual Titan? It’s literally right there in the name. C’mon, Wally, look alive. Irony isn’t a good enough reason for you to be this slow on the uptake.

Wally: Anyone else wanna field this one?

Roy: Lil, don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you to pieces despite your lifelong commitment to playing Devil’s Advocate on behalf of all the reasons we shouldn’t....

Garth: Great start Roy.

Roy: But the day you’re calling the shots around here is the day I tender my resignation and leave a Roy-shaped hole in the wall as I flee and seek sanctuary with the JSA, the JLA, the Green Lantern Corps....hell, even Bruce.

Lilith: How dare you say such things to me, a celestial being.

Dick: Lil, in the interest of saving time and getting you to move so I can actually see the TV, now would be a perfect occasion to look into the future and see what the chances are of us actually putting you in charge.

Lilith, flopping down on the couch: Oh never mind, I already knew that, and its not like I even actually want the stupid job anyway. Look how grumpy it makes you, and you have way more patience than I do. I just wanted to see how far I could push it. I’m booooooored.

Garth: You do know our TV is rigged to get reception from even other planets, right? We can watch pretty much any entertainment program in the galaxy with this thing.

Lilith: Yes, but none of them have me, so its like, what’s the point, y’know?

Wally: Well do you mind letting us keep watching it at least? We do have lower standards, after all.

Lilith: Fine, whatever. I’ll just...exist, I guess.

Two minutes later...

Lilith: Hey, Donna’s an Amazon and I’m a Titan so that still makes me Donna’s boss at least, right?

All of them, in unison: NO.

And then of course, ultimately it was revealed that all of that backstory was a lie and Lilith’s real parents are both normal humans and she’s just a psychic.

Wally: You mean we went through all of that for nothing? And put up with Lil lording being a demigoddess over us for years?

Lilith: Hey, you still got a free all expenses paid trip to Mt. Olympus out of it, so you’re welcome, and you still owe me. Don’t make me sabotage your meet-cute with the woman you’re gonna marry. I’ll do it. I’ll do it so hard, she’ll think she’s allergic to you.

Wally: ...wait, does that mean I’m not going to marry Frances?

Donna: Oh Wally. You didn’t really ever think you were going to marry Frances, did you?

Wally: No, I guess not. She never really clicked with the rest of you, and to be honest I don’t think any of us would ever work out with someone who didn’t get along with the group.

Donna: ....that was a dig at me, wasn’t it.

Wally: What? No! I swear. I literally just forgot Terry existed for a second there.

Roy: Lucky bitch.

Yes. Lilith wears the title of Drama Queen with PRIDE. Its the entire basis of her claim to being royalty, after all, and no, that’s not at all how that works either, but do you want to try telling that to the woman who can and will get the Lamb Chop’s sing along song stuck in your head until it drives you insane?

One does not simply cross Lilith and get away with it, much in the same way as one does not simply walk into Mordor.

No, one should stock up on Plot Armor, magic rings and immortal wizard companions before even making the attempt, expect to be spotted by the all-seeing, all-knowing Eye of Sauron Lilith from the moment you even try and pull some fuckwittery within her domain, and make peace with the 90% chance this will ultimately all end in a slow motion fall to a fiery demise in a volcano with a super ominous name anyway.

Like, speaking of ominous, let’s note the fact that this is a woman whose psychic powers are at best 10% precognition, comparative to their being 90% telepathy. When picking the only codename she’s ever used, did she decide to go with something that focused on the majority shareholder of her powerset, her status as one of the most powerful telepaths in the DC universe? Something like Esper or Psyche or Brainstorm or like, idek, Sir Thinks-A-Lot?

No. No she did not.

Instead she went with Omen.

(And even that was probably only because the other Titans wouldn’t let her just flat out call herself something with Doom right in the name, on the grounds that would make most people assume she was a supervillain. To which she probably replied something like “Well that’s because most people are dumb and that’s why I don’t like most of them. Why am I even a superhero again?” She’d frame it like a real question she was asking, fully expecting an answer, but then she’d wander off while they were still trying to come up with a response to that because she’s bored now and also she doesn’t really care. Being a hero for her wasn’t always a vocation or calling like it was for the other Titans. It was more like she figured “Eh, I have superpowers and no other major life ambitions, might as well be a superhero. I guess.”)

So yeah, screw the telepathy, she’s like, “Call me Omen.”

An omen for whom, people often want to know? Just how exactly is that name meant to be taken? Is she an omen for the people the Titans try and protect, meant as an aid, to help avert some terrible fate that would otherwise befall them? Or is it meant as like, she’s an omen of doom for the bad guys they fight, a forewarning that thirty seconds from now, the Titans will be kicking their asses?

Or maybe its meant to indicate she’s an omen as to the fate of the world, and her career as a superhero is really her attempt to avert one of the terrible apocalypses she foretells every time she pops back up after a superhero sabbatical and says “Hello, valued friends and comrades. Tis I, the unfortunate bearer of grim tidings. The fate of the world once more rests in our hands, and if we are to have any hope of saving it, we gotta take a road trip. I call shotgun.”

Donna: “You know Lil, you don’t actually have to show up with an apocalypse we have to avert, whenever you get bored or lonely and want back on the team again. You could just say hey guys, I’m back, what’s for dinner.”

Lilith: Wow Donna, I guess you don’t care about the fate of all humanity, since I am trying to prophesy here and you’re totally killing the ambiance and its ticking the spirit world off and messing with my connection to it.

Donna: You don’t have a connection to any spirit world, you drama queen. You’re a psychic who has precognitive dreams sometimes which means whatever you came here to warn us about, you already saw and definitely won’t have an update until you, y’know. Go to sleep again.

Lilith: Umm, excuse you Miss Know It All, that’s not even remotely how my visions work.

Donna; That’s literally what you told us about how they worked.

Lilith: Well I was lying, obviously.

Donna: Why would you have lied?

Lilith: Because I do that sometimes. Are we really at all unclear on that by this point?

Donna: Right. And, you do that, why again?

Lilith: I don’t know, Donna. There you go again, always expecting me to have an answer to every single one of life’s little mysteries. Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be understood, did you ever consider that? Like, why is Dick so inexplicably drawn to redheads and yet he’s never once hit on me, a Known Redhead? If a tree falls in the forest and nobody’s around to hear it, does anybody honestly care? God, is the universe allowed to keep a little of its mystique? Is that okay with everyone?

Dick: If I could cut in for a second. Lil, just to clarify, you’re not lying about this apocalyptic vision for any mysterious reason that’s of course, undoubtedly beyond our ken. Correct?

Lilith: Obviously. I never lie about the end of the world, Dick.

Dick: Great. And just for clarity’s sake, the difference there, that makes that a no-lie zone would be....

Lilith: These end of the world situations always end up involving a lot of work for me, and would I do that much work for anything less than the end of the world?

Wally: Yeah that checks out.

Lilith: You’re going to ski straight off a cliff and win a Darwin Award for how stupid your death is.

Wally: Hah hah, joke’s on you, you already tried using that one on me and I’ve made my peace with it.

Lilith: Dammit.

Dick: Okay. And since we just established you’ve made up so many fake deaths for Wally over the years that you’re actually recycling old ones at this point, I gotta ask, one more time, just for complete clarity....so the intel about your vision is one hundred percent down to the letter accurate, to the best of your recollection?

Lilith: Oh. Well if you’re going to be technical about it, I might have embellished a little here and there. But that’s just about the aesthetic.

Dick: ....the aesthetic?

Lilith: Just because Destiny decided to make me its glorified secretary and insists on me reading off the minutes of each and every celestial meeting about “Should we end all existence yet, yay or nay,” that doesn’t mean I have to be boring about it.

Dick: I miss your fake mom.

235 notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

The Reluctants | Chapter 8 | The Reluctant Trip

Pairing: Adam (OLLA) x OFC (Charlie Bock)

Summary: Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker. But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement. Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire. As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Chapter: Adam and Charlie continue to explore their relationship and a new couch needs to be procured.

Warnings: Violence, Smut, Frottage, Dry Humping, Teasing, Coming In Pants, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex. Couch Sex. Kidnapping. Stalking. Non-Graphic Violence, Character Death

Charlie helped Adam carry the broken couch to the sidewalk.

“You don’t need to do that? I am a vampire, I am unnaturally strong.” He lifted the heavier end with ease.

“No, I helped contribute to its demise. It seems only right.” Charlie heaved the other side to her chest. The height difference not making matter any easier. “Which door?”

Adam lifted his chin to the front door and Charlie lifted onto her toes to walk backwards.

“Why in the fuck are you walking like that?” Adam scrunched up his nose.

“If you walk backwards on your toes, you don’t fall down.”

“And you learned this, where?”

“None of your business.” Charlie glanced behind her. “Watch the door.”

“I can see it just fine. Answer the question.”

“Aren’t you pushy all of a sudden?”

Adam smirked. “A nasty habit I picked up from my girlfriend.”

Charlie dropped the couch, narrowly missing her toes. “What?! What did you say? What… What….” she sputtered. Charlie fanned her face. “But we… we weren’t…”

Adam moved towards her, sidestepping the bits of wood and debris. His hands engulfing her face. He kissed both her cheeks. “I said we didn’t need labels, but I lied. However, I fear there is not a word to describe us. The imperfect word ‘girlfriend’ will have to do.”

Charlie nodded. “No, girlfriend works. Much preferred to lover.”

“That was my second choice.” Adam smiled. The first smile in days. “Now pick up this couch you destroyed by parading your magnificent tits around in those fucking sweaters.”

Adam moved back to his side and Charlie lifted back on her toes. They dumped the couch on the curb and hurried back inside as Charlie’s thin shirt did little to protect her from a November night in Quincy.

“You still didn’t answer the question.” Adam stated as he shut the door and rubbed her arms to get the blood flowing again.

“Hmm.” Charlie leaned in his chest. “What question?”

“How do you know to stand on your toes?”

“Marching band.” she blurted out before walking into the living room. Adam grabbed her wrist.

“You play an instrument and you didn’t tell me?” He narrowed his eyes at Charlie.

“I was in the Color Guard. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.” Charlie smiled and walked away.

“Right.” Adam followed her. He found Charlie staring at a pile of stuff where the couch once stood.

“Is that my favorite t-shirt?” Charlie pointed to a ball of jersey covered in dust and bits of paper.

“Yes.”

“How did it end up underneath the couch?” Adam stood still. “You shoved it under there, didn’t you?”

Adam’s lips pulled tight, and he nodded.

“You are going to need to get a new couch.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to take my couch?” Charlie offered, the two of them still staring at the mess.

“No.”

“Why not?” Charlie twisted to look at him. “Is there a problem with it?”

“Yes. It is ugly and uncomfortable.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

Adam turned to face Charlie, his lips twitching. “It’s ugly and uncomfortable. Besides, There’s a couch in storage. We can rent a truck tomorrow to fetch it.”

“What is this ‘we’ business?”

Adam scooted over to wrap his arms around Charlie’s waist, pull her back against his chest. “You help break it, you help replace it, love.” His nose nudged Charlie’s curls and behind her ear. Charlie giggled.

“So what happens if we break the bed?” Charlie turned in his arms to face him.

Adam nipped Charlie’s bottom lip. “Then I fuck you against the wall.”

“Challenge accepted.” Charlie took off running towards the bedroom.

Charlie woke the next morning in a tangle of sheets. Adam’s side of the bed was cold and empty. She tugged on the black dressing gown and padded down the hallway to the other bedroom.

“How did you realize I was here?” Adam questioned when she pushed open the door to find Adam sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Process of elimination. There’s no couch remember?”

“Right.” His voice melancholy. Charlie sat down beside him and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. She placed her other hand on top.

“You miss Eve? Feel guilty?” Adam glanced away. Charlie grabbed his chin. “It would seem the both of us brought some baggage to this relationship. I want to learn about her, Adam. She is a part of you. Will you tell me?”

Adam bit his lip and nodded. “Yes.” He tilted his body to lean against her. “But not now.”

“That’s fine. I can just sit here with you for a bit.”

“Thank you, Charlie.” He kissed her temple. She lifted his hand to her lips.

“You’re welcome.” And they sat in silence until Adam got up and so did Charlie, closing the door.

“I am working today.” Charlie rumpled her hair. “I am heading upstairs to get ready.”

“I can pick you up when shop closes and we can go pick up the couch?”

“You leave the house?” Charlie raised her eyebrows, mocking Adam.

He rewarded her with a classic Adam eye roll. “Yes, I do when the need arises.”

“I mean you realize you will need to put on actual clothes? It is generally frowned upon to go out in public in pajamas?” Charlie could barely contain her laughter.

“Go, before I change my mind.”

“You mean I could get out of moving furniture. Excellent.” Charlie doubled over in laughter. Adam swatted her ass.

“Keep it up.”

“Why, darling, I didn’t realize we had that kind of of relationship.” Adam glared. “I’m going! I get off at 6. Or sooner, if you follow me upstairs.” Charlie wiggled her eyebrows.

“Your sofa can’t handle me.”

“Fine.” She rose up on her toes and kissed him. “Try to get some sleep because I want to test out this new sofa tonight.”

“I am planning on it.” Adam wrapped his arms around her.

“Have I told you about the pigeons, Charlie?” Mr. Simmons asked as he handed her a stack of newly acquired records to price and sort.

“Not today, Mr. Simmons.” Charlie sighed. It was a quarter to six, and she glanced out the window in hopes Adam would appear early.

“Well, you recognize the government is spying on us?”

“Hmmm.” Charlie nodded, not looking up. If she acted disinterested enough, sometimes Mr. Simmons lost his train of thought.

“Never trust a zombie. Particularly a politician zombie.”

“Adam!” Charlie squealed, leaning over the glass display cases.

“Mr. Streiff.” Mr. Simmons straightened his glasses. “I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t have a delivery for you.”

Adam strolled to the two of them, not bothering to remove his glasses. “It’s all right, Simmons. I am here for your lovely clerk.” He smiled at Charlie.

“You know him?” Mr. Simmons hooked his thumb at Adam.

“Yeah, he is my…” Charlie could sense Adam glared through the sunglasses. “… landlord! And he offered to give me a ride to the storage unit to pick up some furniture.”

“That explains the truck.” Simmons commented. “No way to fit furniture in that Jaguar of yours.”

Charlie stared Adam down.

“I understand it is early, Simmons, but do you mind if I steal her away?”

“Of course! Anything for my best customer.”

“Thank you, Simmons.”

Charlie hopped from behind the counter to stand next to Adam. She resisted the urge to grab his hand.

“I promise to get those records cataloged tomorrow.”

Mr. Simmons waved her off. “Go. The work will wait.”

Adam held the door open for you and opening the door to the beat up truck he borrowed from god knows where.

“A Jaguar?”

“Not a word.” Adam turned on the truck and shifted into drive. He flicked the radio on, not realizing it was set to a Top 40s station.

Slow, slow hands Like sweat dripping down our dirty laundry No, no chance That I’m leaving here without you on me I, I know Yeah, I already know that there ain’t no stoppin’ Your plans and those

“Turn that shit off. That song is awful.” He spun the dial until he found a blues station.

“I don’t know. It’s seems catchy. But I always get stuck it in my head.”

“My point exactly.”

“Why are you wearing sunglasses, Corey Hart?”

Adam grunted. “My eyes.”

“Yes you have eyes.”

“They give my true nature away. Make people uncomfortable.”

Charlie squirmed. “I hadn’t notice.”

Adam leaned over to kiss the side of her head. “That is because you are extraordinary.”

Inside, Charlie bristled at the compliment. “And the gloves? I have never those before either.”

Adam looked away. “When you turn, it heightens certain senses. The gloves block out some of that.”

“Oh…” Her lips pursed. “Sorry. For any discomf—”

“Stop it!” Adam didn’t yell, but his words pointed. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Charlie blinked.

“Apologize. For everything. For existing. Like your some kind of burden. You are not a burden, Charlie. You need not earn your place in my life.”

“I’m s—” Adam grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight, stopping her words. “My parents, my family, have made it abundantly clear since I was very young that I wasn’t wanted. And I have spent my lifetime doing everything in my power to earn my place at the table. I’m not used to compliments. I’m not used to being cared for.” Charlie sniffled.

“You weren’t fucking joking about the baggage, darling.” He squeezed her hand again.

“You can imagine my romantic life has been a disaster. Until… you.”

Adam smiled. “Fortunately for you, I have been pretty lucky in love. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go. I will be there every step.”

“Thank you.”

“And I will fucking kill your family.”

They both laughed, but Charlie wondered how serious Adam was. She didn’t have time to ask as they pulled up to Extra Space Storage.

“I still can’t understand why you own a storage unit. What is in the other apartments? Is it wall to wall instruments? Stacks of lesbian porn DVDs? Machinery ready to fall through the floor and crash upon my head, killing me?”

“Yes.” Adam grunted, parking the car.

“Can I organize it? I’m superb at alphabetizing. Ask Simmons.”

“Don’t you dare go into those apartments. Now come and help me.”

Charlie hustled to catch up with Adam’s long stride. They continued into the building and down a hallway. Adam fished out a key, stopping in front of a large metal rolling door.

“Stand back.” He extended his arm in front of Charlie. “I have no idea what is coming out of here.”

Charlie tucked herself behind Adam, gripping his leather jacket. He opened the lock and yanked the door up. A box of faded paperbacks tumbled out. Charlie spied the title of one. Cheerleaders in Chains.

“I assumed you were kidding about the lesbian porn.”

“I wasn’t. But that is another story entirely.”

“Can I alphabetize it?”

Adam dropped the stack of books in his hand. “What is your obsession with alphabetizing?”

“I like order. It gives me control of some part of my life.”

“Perhaps another time.” He stepped over a few more boxes. “We are here for this!”

Adam pulled back a holey sheet to reveal a dark green couch with a high back and ornately carved legs. Charlie took a running leap to flop on the couch. She stretched the full length.

“I don’t think there is enough room on here for you.”

“Then we will have share the space.”

Adam propped himself up on his hands, caging her against the cushions. He growled as he kissed Charlie, pressing her into the couch. Charlie pulled him deeper in an embrace, moaning against him. Adam raked his hands along the curves of Charlie’s body.

“It will be light soon. We should get going.” Charlie pushed Adam off her by the chest.

“How dare you be practical?” He pulled her up along with him. His fangs dragging along her neck.

“Someone has to be. Now get up and use those muscles to help me lift this.” Charlie smacked his thigh.

Adam rolled his eyes but got up and went to the opposite end where Charlie now stood. The couch was heavier than the last one. Charlie huffed and puffed all the way to the truck. Adam didn’t even break a sweat. Not that vampires sweat.

The drive back to the house was Adam talking about some of the music on the radio and Charlie nodding along.

“Can’t we leave it to tomorrow?” Charlie grumbled as Adam pulled up to the curb.

“No. Someone might steal it.”

Charlie pouted, slamming the door. “Fine.”

He smiled at her. “That’s the spirit.”

Adam jumped from standing into the truck bed.

“Impressive. Do you also have a killer jump shot?”

“Do you want to insult me or get this inside?”

She lowered the gate and helped him scoot it out. About ten minutes later, they lowered the massive piece of furniture on top of the mess Adam wouldn’t let her clean up.

“No one will see it.” Adam grumbled.

“But I will know it’s there.”

“Just forget about it.”

“I can’t.” Charlie twisted her fingers around, eye twitching.

“Let me take your mind off of it.” Adam dragged her to the bedroom.

“I hoped we were going to test out the couch.”

“Another time. I need more space.”

“For what?” Charlie’s brows knitted in worry.

“To show my appreciation.”

Adam pulled her shirt off over her head. With nimble fingers, he unhooked her bra. Her breasts fell softly. Adam planted sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. Charlie shivered as his mouth traveled down to the tops of her breasts. His fangs nipping and marking the skin.

“Oh…” she sighed, arching her back.

Adam gripped her hips. He sucked hard on her nipple. The mix of pain and pleasure went straight to Charlie’s core. She moved to Adam’s jeans. He swatted her hand away.

“No.”

“But, I want to…” Charlie moved again to undo his pants.

Adam threw Charlie onto the bed. He pinned her hands above her head.

“Let me do this. Let it be about you. Can you do that for me?” Charlie nodded but struggled against his hold. “I’m not letting go.”

He pressed his hips into her, pinning her against the mattress. His lips trailed along her torso, leaving wet marks on the soft flesh of her stomach. Charlie wiggled in discomfort as Adam’s lips ghosted along her faded stretch marks.

“Please don’t…”

His nails dug into her wrists and he grunted, crushing his lips against Charlie’s, swallowing her excuses and apologies.

“What did I say about denigrating yourself?”

“You said don’t do it.” Charlie bit her lip, Adam’s stare making her uncomfortable. “But I was going to say—”

CRACK! Charlie yelped as Adam’s hand came down hard on the side of her thigh. Even through her jeans, it stung.

“Next time it shall be your behind. Can I continue?”

“Yes.”

Adam shifted his grip on her wrists, freeing one hand. He undid her pants with one hand after a struggle.

“I will let go of your wrists. You need to behave yourself, darling.”

“I will.”

“Good girl.”

He balanced on his knees and Charlie lifted her hips. Adam peeled her jeans and underwear off, dropping them to the ground. He kissed her ankle before moving along the inside of her leg. He bit along the inside of Charlie’s thigh.

“Please Adam.” she begged.

He ignored her pleas and repeated his ministrations on her other leg. Charlie squirmed and moaned when his nose nudged along her folds.

“Hmm.” Adam hummed. He licked Charlie’s folds, collecting her sweet arousal along his tongue. Adam commented to himself that he imagine never growing tired of the taste of Charlie. All of her tasted as Adam imagined nectar tasted.

Adam sucked Charlie’s bundle of nerves and she fisted his hair, pulling his head into her. His chuckle against her, sending more jolts of pleasure throughout Charlie’s body. He slipped a finger inside her. Her pussy clenching tight around him. With long and languid strokes, Adam continued to finger Charlie while using his mouth to bring her closer to orgasm.

“Adam! I’m…” Charlie’s words falling away when she came. She gushed upon Adam’s face who did not stop licking nor did he remove his finger, curling and curving inside Charlie.

He finally removed himself from her core. With a jerking motion, he tugged his pants down just enough to release his cock. The tip angry and weeping. He hissed, teasing her with the tip before pushing inside of her. Adam’s head fell back once he fully seated inside of her. With a roll of the hips, he thrusted in and out of Charlie.

Adam took his time, pulling her leg to his shoulder, caressing the skin, kissing the bone, biting at the thing skin. Charlie covered her face at the pleasure. It was too much, and she came again, sobbing.

“I’m close, sweetheart. Do you have one more in you?” Adam pleaded, putting her leg down. His torso against hers. His breath even while Charlie panted. She managed a weak nod from underneath her hands.

“Show me your face.” Adam peeled away her fingers, his lips soft against her wet cheeks. “I want to see you in all your glory when I come inside you. When gush upon my cock.” His words purred against Charlie’s ear.

She whimpered as Adam thrusted into her. His pubic bone grazing along her already sensitive pearl. She fluttered around him.

“That’s it, darling. Come on me. I’m close.” Adam’s body tightened, and he grunted softly, spilling inside of her.

He fell to the side of Charlie and pulled her tight, enveloping her with his legs and arms. His chest hair tickled along her nose, but she didn’t move. Charlie inhaled the scent of sandalwood and sex and exhaled in relief.

“I’m not letting go, my love.” Adam whispered, smoothing out her curls, only to have them bounce back against his chin.

Charlie’s breath was long and even. A soft metronome against Adam’s chest. His own eyes heavy as the sun threatened its ascent. A slight twinge of guilt plucked at his heart. He attempted to shove it aside but burbled up, destroying his peace and contentment for a while. He resolved him to not wallow in it any longer.

“I’m falling in love with her, baby.” He called out to Eve.

#adam #adam fanfic #adam angst #adam fanfiction #adam fluff #adam smut #only lovers left alive #only lovers left alive fanfiction #adam x ofc #the reluctants

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sanoiro · 4 years

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Lucifer Meta: Wings & Identity

~First of all long time no see. Yes, I was busy with work and uni this past year and also I didn't have the time nor the patience to be on two social media platforms at the same time. I apologise for that!

In this post, I’ll try to meta Lucifer and his wings on a different level which you will understand once you have read this post. The inspiration came when last night I re-watched 4x07 and the ending was short of a revelation for me in regards to Lucifer, how he perceived himself but also what he wanted to be.

In 4x07 as you remember Lucifer discovers that his once fluffy white wings now are monstrous, leathery bat wings and cannot comprehend why is that. He says

Lucifer: You have to help me, doctor. I don't want to be a monster. Linda: What's wrong? Lucifer: It's my wings. I hadn't checked them since my devil face returned. I was afraid they might have gone. I was afraid what that might mean. What that might say about me.

^If you had not noticed you can see that Ellis portrayed Lucifer crying in that scene. You can see the tear dropping from the tip of his nose.

Now as you remember in S3 we had a Lucifer who abhorred his wings but there was a mistake in comprehending what exactly he fought so hard against. It was not his wings it was the fact Lucifer felt he was manipulated and forced to be something. Up to that point, angelhood and devilhood had to do on which side of Dad’s grace an Angel was but that was disproven by the end of that season, therefore, the wings in S3 were something that held no physical hatred but an emotional one.

At 3x11, Lucifer comes to the self-realisation, which might be a wrong one, that in this city of Angels, he is not one anymore. He says to Amenadiel that he waited to be forgiven in Hell by Dad but now Lucifer decides to abandon that, I would say abandon that hope. In the end of 3x11, he has Maze cut his wings and at that moment he physically severies a bond while turning the manifesting an emotional pain, that of Dad’s rejection with a physical pain, that of self-harming himself to disassociate with Him.

In a sense cutting his wings in 3x11 like in the beginning of S3 is a bit like Lucifer trying to remove a common familial feature that associated him with his Father but when Amenadiel rejected him he abandoned all hope. It’s like cutting a mole or I would go further and say taking our your eyes because you inherited your father’s colouring and you simply cannot stand to see that every day.

So cutting the wings was painful but also a tantrum while Lucifer lost a foundation and started spiralling until Chloe came it his life. No, she didn’t make everything better but she gave him a path and that was a healing process. It’s also remarkable how Lucifer for five years he kept his wings safe in a container, and in 1x07 he tells his brother that:

Lucifer: To fool me into desiring the wings and the hellish throne they accompany. Well, do you know what? It almost bloody worked. A rip cord back to the life that dear old Dad chose for me. But I don't need it now, because, in case I haven't made myself abundantly clear, I'm never going back to Hell.

In the lines, Lucifer delivered above in S1 we often go back to how they were used for Hell’s depiction in S4 or how Lucifer didn’t want to go back but the one part we always leave out of our metas is the line: “fool me into desiring the wings”.

Why would Lucifer ever desire the wings? It was clear in S3 he hated them but again as I have explained before it was not the actual wings. He didn’t desire the wings per se and that ties with 3x11. In 3x11 Lucifer forces himself to stop considering himself as an Angel although he desperately wants to. Yet not in the sense, you may believe.

In 3x11, 1x07 and 4x07 we can see that the wings are a physical and emotional part of Lucifer that yet they also hold a connection to what he once was, an angel. In 4x06, Ella says that what they expect us to believe that the Devil went from an Angel to the epitome of Evil? At that point, Chloe correctly says that Ella is right, Lucifer is also an angel. Not was, is.

At this point let’s clear some confusion about the Angel part. When we are talking about Lucifer being an Angel it does not mean that he should be virtuous or replace the piano with a harp at LUX. It does not mean that Lucifer is subjected to a certain behaviour and nature due to his state of being, aka being an Angel because in all honesty he always was an Angel that never, ever changed.

Lucifer’s case is a bit like a person doing inhuman acts. Yet they stay human, they were born human and will die as a human. Acts good or bad do not move people up and down a scale of what a human is, because you cannot stop being a human but you can choose what kind of human you wish to become. A person who wants to protest against a policy is not a bad human or a bad citizen but has an opinion which he or she wishes to express and seeks the freedom to do so.

Now getting back to sociology and criminology, studies were focused on why poor or second-generation migrants are more likely to commit a crime and the answer after the 1980′s, the most popular one was social exclusion. Of course, you cannot pinpoint a whole field of study on just that but for this meta we will just have to in order to proceed.

Lucifer was thrown away from his home, he felt betrayed by his Father and Mother. He was socially excluded by his siblings in Heaven and Hell and so what was marched and presented as a freedom march ended up being criminalised to the point where when Lucifer looked back to himself he could only see that distorted image yet the wings remained white, fluffy, untouched by the grimness of what he believed he had become. A monster.

In S2 we see that Amenadiel lost his wings because he didn’t believe he was an Angel anymore. His actions that filled him guilt and doubt over his very nature didn’t make him a Devil but human. He lost his wings but at 3x17 he has accepted his mortality and regains his wings only when Charlotte dies and thus elevates himself on the fact that everyone is redeemable and is what you make of yourself not what Dad believes you deserve.

If that’s the case why Lucifer never lost his wings if he believed he was just a Devil? Again because he always saw himself as an Angel until s4 that is.

In 4x01 there is finally another key moment, another key line:

Lucifer: I've had literal aeons to come to terms with what you saw. My- My monstrous side. [SHUDDERS.] But it's not all that I am. At least I hope not. [SIGHS.] Either way, it's unfair of me to expect you to just accept it. I'm honestly not sure when I'll be able to. If ever.

This brings us back and forth in seasons and episodes. First that his Devil face is not a welcome feature but something he hides behind as we saw in a metaphor the writer room gave us in 4x09. It’s a mask that does not hide but projects his fears, his guilt and his despair towards mainly to himself...

Lucifer has not accepted what his physical Devil manifestation is and that’s clear in 4x01 as when he says, come in terms with it does not mean that he has accepted it but was dejected to it as we saw in 3x11.

Second, he insists it’s not all that he is. As we saw in his speech in 4x07 he does not consider himself a monster but it’s like a slide that takes him in places he cannot control and which we see more clearly in 4x09 but also in 4x10. At the end of 4x10, it’s not his rage that turns him into his Devil form if you like but his guilt in my opinion. People have died, demons roam the earth, his nephew was taken because of him and Chloe is attacked so he lashes out and like a child, he projects the impossible. He puffs out and makes himself loos threatening while he is scared and lost again.

Third, I would like to explore more the ‘when’ part. It shows that after billions of years Lucifer still considers himself an angel despite the monstrous side that takes over here and there. In his speech in 4x08 we have an example of what that feels like:

Lucifer: There is something rotten inside of me. I find it near impossible to drown out the constant cacophony of voices whispering in my ear, telling me I am evil. I'm drowning, doctor! And I can't stop asking myself why do I hate myself so much?

The rotten and drowning part Lucifer expresses presents us with a visual where whatever bothers him, he feels it spreading, taking over contaminating him. Yet contaminating what? The angel he is? If an angel is a partly rotten will that spread and if it has is he still considered an angel or is it something entirely new? Something that needs and has been thrown away before it affects the rest?

With all that, we see that Lucifer has not accepted being the Devil as many perceive him to be and that in reality, the Devil, in this case, is not due to him being evil or making bad decisions and acts but because he is simply different. Obviously, I’m talking about the series.

The Devil in this series is just an Angel with a different opinion which was twisted. Perhaps that different opinion was expressed in a wrong way aka the Rebellion but that cannot birth evil as we know it. Furthermore, there is no scale to null good acts with bad acts and keep an equilibrium so all that, have him in a state of total confusion because what he believes he is deep down aka an angel does not correspond to what he does some times nor what an angel should be which brings him in a constant self-rejection as what he is cannot be comprehended and by many is not a state of existence.

Like in the case of Amenadiel or Remiel it was easier to believe that Lucifer’s nature had been corrupted entirely leaving nothing back to what he once was rather than recognise that people as Chloe said, constantly changing so there is no real medium to be reached aside from what is right and wrong and what you can do for that.

Finally, the cacophony of voices is not just in his head is every individual who has enforced their opinion on what Lucifer is now. To make it clearer just think of Amenadiel in 3x11.

Lucifer: Yes, of course, it'll work, Brother. That's why you asked me, remember? Someone crafty, smart- Amenadiel: And evil. [LAUGHS.] Lucifer: Evil? Amenadiel: Well, if you want to find a deplorable criminal, you just ask a well, you know what I mean, Luci. Come on. You are the Devil, after all

So what can we take from all of the above? That Lucifer is an angel, he wishes to be an angel just a different kind of one. He is confused between his duty and his punishment on what he should be and what he is and yet all comes down to one very simple thing. Lucifer is an angel and he wishes to be one but not under the terms that have been subjected to all his siblings and that unique blend of what he is was drawn out by Chloe. She was in a way the balancing ingredient for some reason which I very much hope to see it be explained in S5...

Perhaps just perhaps that was why he was also so hurt when she couldn’t accept his devil face as it would have been an affirmation that he still holds something angelic in him, worthy of her at that point.

Yes, Lucifer makes her step down from the pedestal he put her on in 4x08 but at that scene, he saw her perhaps as a divine touched person who could soothe him and say that despite his appearance and the past mistakes that face betrayed, he could still reconnect with the divine. When she doubted that we can see one very important concept Lucifer still has. A faulty one but still...

Like with Amenadiel and many of his siblings, there are no grey areas, no maybes. There is either white or black so no matter how much Lucifer wants to hold on, to the idea that he is an angel, always was, always will be despite what he has done he has not transformed to a monster, dissociated from his family and nature despite of his choices to not follow the family business, he fails to see that grey area. There are maybes. Feelings and truths still prevail within any mess and you can find a middle without tearing yourself apart as Linda very well noted in 4x06.

So that’s it I guess...

#lucifer meta #lucifer season 4 #lucifer season 3 #lucifer season 2 #lucifer season 1

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cruelangelstheses · 4 years

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the path to girlhood

fandom: love live! rating: T characters: rin hoshizora, hanayo koizumi words: 3.9k additional tags: character study, au, trans girl rin, bullying, internalized transphobia, high school description: rin struggles to accept herself at her new school when she discovers a love for dancing. a/n: hello hello!! i wrote this a little over a month ago and decided to finally polish it and post it! this au is pretty similar to canon except that they’re just regular high school girls and not idols. i promise it’s not as angsty as the tags make it seem!! i will never write write a fic in which rin hoshizora is cis. happy pride to my fellow Transes of Gender <3 title comes from kururin miracle aka rin’s Trans Song. i love her so much. that's my fuckign daughter

read it on ao3

—

On the first day of high school, Rin Hoshizora goes to school in a skirt.

She hasn’t worn one out in public since she was a child, having resigned herself to hiding inside hoodies and sweatpants. As she wanders the unfamiliar hallways, Rin tries not to be conscious of the way some of her peers sneak curious glances at her from behind notebooks or open locker doors. If nothing else, she hopes the button on her backpack—a striped flag of pink, white, and blue—will be enough to clue them in, if any of them even know what it symbolizes.

Last month, Rin’s parents successfully enrolled her into the local but relatively well-regarded Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, mainly thanks to “proof” from her doctor that she has, in fact, started taking hormones and that she is, in fact, a Real Trans Girl, whatever that means. It’s an old, impressive school with plenty of extracurriculars and classes to choose from, and her best friend, Hanayo, goes there, too. Most importantly, though, it’s a chance to reinvent herself, to meet new people who don’t know her dead name—to make a statement, simply by wearing the Otonokizaka uniform and sitting in an Otonokizaka classroom, that says, I am a girl just as you are.

So far, it doesn’t feel quite as empowering as she thought it would.

Instead, she feels like a newborn baby, cut from the umbilical cord of the closet, naked and confused as she’s thrust into a strange new world. There’s no turning back now, no chance to abort the mission. All she can do is step forward into the light, with all the beauty and danger that it brings.

—

When Rin steps into her homeroom class, a soft, familiar voice calls out, “Rin-chan!”

Hanayo jumps up out of her chair and scurries over, her red glasses bouncing on her face. Rin grins and wraps her arms around her, squeezing her tightly, and for just a moment, she forgets about the rest of the world. There’s nothing outside this classroom, nothing outside her best friend’s warm embrace.

Rin opens her mouth to say something, anything—a how have you been or a help me please I don’t know if I can do this—but she doesn’t get the chance, because then the bell rings, and the homeroom teacher strides into the room. In a flurry, the students rush to their desks. Hanayo has saved a seat for Rin in the back, right next to her, and Rin sighs in relief as she slides into the chair.

While the teacher introduces herself, Rin scans the room, searching for any sign of a reaction from her classmates. Most of them are facing forward, listening or at least pretending to listen to the teacher. One girl sitting a few seats away pokes her friend on the shoulder and gestures to Rin. “Wow,” she mutters, just loud enough that it’s clear she wants Rin to hear it. “They’ll let anyone in this school, huh?”

Rin’s face heats up, and she quickly looks away, down at her empty notebook. In an attempt to seem nonchalant, she pulls a pen out of her pencil case and starts doodling a cat to distract herself. She likes her short hair—it’s cute and easy to manage, and it doesn’t get in her face when she’s playing sports—but suddenly she wishes it were longer so she could hide behind it. That probably wouldn’t work too well, though—before long, she’s sure her peers will be able to recognize her just by her decidedly unfeminine frame.

“Psst,” Hanayo whispers, and Rin turns her head to look at her. Hanayo props up her notebook horizontally. On an otherwise clean page, she’s written in pretty, curly handwriting, I believe in you! with little hearts all around it.

Rin flashes her a tiny smile and mouths a thank-you, but she still can’t shake the feeling that everything about her is wrong. Her knees are too knobby, her handwriting isn’t neat enough, her voice is too loud. She feels like a randomized Sim, like someone just threw together a collection of traits and lumped them all into a person. She’d like to give the spirits a “You Tried” sticker.

—

Rin likes talking to people. She likes jumping in on a conversation about athletics or music or pets and talking about her favorite type of cat (orange tabbies, obviously) or her favorite sports (how could she choose just one?). She likes introducing herself to those who look shy or lonely—in fact, it’s how she met Hanayo. Today, though, she finds herself infuriatingly tongue-tied, stumbling over her words in a way she never has before. Though she attempts, as always, to appear friendly, most of the girls she talks to seem to be at least somewhat uncomfortable with or uninterested in her presence, as if they’re just waiting for her to go away. The last thing Rin wants is to make someone unhappy or upset, so once she senses that she isn’t quite welcome in a particular group or conversation, she politely withdraws from it.

When Rin walks into the bathroom, all the girls that were hanging out and doing their makeup immediately grab their things and leave.

Rin overhears a few more rude comments throughout the day, but no one is overly confrontational. She finds herself pondering over girls and the way they show aggression—how girls who speak disparagingly about others behind their backs are referred to as “catty,” while physical fights between girls are often called “catfights.” Either way, aggressive or passive-aggressive, dealing in physical damage or emotional, girls are consistently compared to cats. It’s unfair to cats, Rin thinks, to associate them only with animosity and violence. Cats can be sweet and loving, too. Cats wouldn’t hate her just for wearing skirts or referring to herself as a “she.”

“Rin-chan,” Hanayo says later that day when they walk home from school together, “are you going to join any clubs or activities? They’ve got a lot of sports.”

“I might do soccer,” Rin replies, “and maybe basketball in the winter. But I’ll have to try it out first to see if I like it.”

Hanayo raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Rin loves soccer; they both know she loves soccer. What Rin’s really saying is, I’ll have to see if I’m treated in a way that deters me from playing.

“Well, if you don’t like it,” Hanayo says delicately, “you could do other sports that aren’t team-oriented. There’s track and cross-country. And there’s dance.”

“Dance?” Rin repeats. “What makes you think I’d be any good at that?”

“Well, you’re so coordinated, and you have really good stamina,” Hanayo says, twirling a strand of light brown hair. “And you like music. It looks like it’d be really fun.”

“You should do it, then,” Rin says, not unkindly.

Hanayo chuckles sheepishly. “I’d like to, but I’ve been too nervous to go by myself. Maybe you could come with me? Just to the first couple of meetings.”

Rin frowns. It’s not that she dislikes the idea of dancing, necessarily; she’s just never considered it. Dancing is for pretty girls with limbs as pliable as putty and skin softer than rose petals, not a scrappy little transgender tomboy with scraped-up knees and a finger that didn’t heal properly because she took it out of the splint before she was supposed to. Dancing is for girls who would never be mistaken for boys.

“The people there seem really nice,” Hanayo adds. “And I’ll be with you, remember?”

After a few moments, Rin finds herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she says, trying to picture herself dancing to pop music or classical arrangements. It doesn’t quite feel right. “But if it falls on the same day as soccer, I’m choosing soccer.”

—

At the first soccer practice, they have a scrimmage against one another. It’s a perfect chance for Rin to show her teammates what she can do, to earn their trust and start to build camaraderie just like when she played on boys’ teams. Within the first few minutes of the mock game, however, it becomes abundantly clear that most of the girls have no interest in establishing a rapport with her. Some shift uncomfortably whenever she’s near. Others, especially those on defense, play particularly aggressively with her, pressing so close to her that they almost touch, nearly shoving her out of the way, or “accidentally” kicking at her heels when attempting to steal the ball from her. Nearly all of them seem to refuse to pass her the ball, even when she’s wide open, and even though she’s one of the fastest and most experienced members, so that the only times she ever actually manages to get it are when she steals it from the other side. The coach claps whenever Rin scores a goal, but hardly anyone else does, and it only seems to be out of politeness.

At the end of the practice, Rin is about ready to fall over in exhaustion, but not in a good way. She doesn’t think she’s ever had to work so hard in her life to try to make people like her, or at least play nice with her.

Hanayo texts her that evening. How’d it go?

Not great :-( I think I’ll come with you tomorrow to the dance club, Rin responds.

Hanayo’s reply comes a few seconds later. Oh no I’m so sorry!! Tomorrow will be better I promise!!

Rin sighs and flops down on her bed. “I sure hope so,” she mumbles to no one as she stares blankly across the room. A dress she bought online hangs on her closet door, unworn.

—

The room used for the dance club is similar to a gymnasium, except that it’s smaller and has walls made entirely of mirrors. When Rin steps out onto the hardwood floor and sees a few other girls chatting in the center of the room with a dance instructor, her chest tightens.

Beside her, Hanayo takes a deep breath. “I’m nervous, too,” she says, taking Rin’s hand in her own. “But we’re here together.”

They amble up to the small group, and the dance instructor turns to them with a smile. “Oh! It’s so good to see some new faces,” she says. “You can call me Miyazaki-sensei.”

“Hi,” Rin and Hanayo say in unison. They both giggle nervously.

“Hey, there’s no need to be nervous!” says a spunky girl with a side ponytail. “Anyone can learn to dance. I’m living proof! Plus it’d make great material for the talent show!”

Rin and Hanayo exchange glances. “Talent show?” Rin says.

“Yeah!” the girl says. “Every year right before summer break, the school holds a talent show. Anyone can enter! It’s really fun! Last year Kotori-chan, Umi-chan, and I performed as a trio,” she gestures to the other two girls in the room, “and we’re hoping to do it again this year! Sign-ups should be—uhhh, Umi-chan, when are the sign-ups again?”

One of the girls, Umi, sighs in exasperation, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face. “Two Mondays from now. So not this coming Monday, but the one after that.”

“Great!” says the ponytail girl. Turning back to Rin and Hanayo, she adds, “Are you two friends? You should perform as a duo! It would be so cute! I bet I could find the perfect song for you guys—”

Miyazaki holds up a hand. “Why don’t we see if they actually enjoy it first, hm?” she says, amused.

First, they go around and introduce themselves. Miyazaki and the other girls seem nice enough; in fact, Rin thinks she saw Honoka, the ponytail girl, smile and wave at her as she walked into Otonokizaka on the first day of class. She appears to just love and accept everyone; her sincerity is almost childish, but charming nonetheless.

Then they get into the dancing. The three other girls, all second years, seem to know what they’re doing when it comes to planning their performance, so Miyazaki spends most of her time teaching Rin and Hanayo some simple moves to a handful of familiar pop songs.

Slowly, Rin can’t help but unfold. The satisfaction that blooms in her chest whenever she gets a move right, when she shifts her body perfectly to the rhythm of the music, is such a pleasant shock to her system that she feels herself letting her guard down, opening up. She and Hanayo laugh whenever they screw up a step, and no matter how many times they fail, Miyazaki’s patience and attentiveness never waver. When Rin glances over at the other girls, she finds them completely absorbed in their practice; only occasionally does she notice any of them looking her way, and when they do, it’s not with the piercing eyes of judgment, but the joy of sharing in something they love. In this room, Rin doesn’t have to worry about how others see her. She can just be.

—

Hanayo and Rin attend every dance rehearsal together. It’s a small, close-knit group, and even though they aren’t all working together on the same exact thing, Rin can feel that sense of camaraderie that she’s been missing. They’re all constantly looking to improve, to try new things, to create something lively and beautiful. The world is their canvas, their bodies the brushes, the music the paint. For Rin, dancing becomes an unexpected refuge. In the dance room, no one throws crumpled-up papers at her head or tries to trip her down the stairs; no one whispers ugly words in her ear as she walks by.

After hours of deliberation on both their parts, and a lot of convincing (read: begging) on Honoka’s part, Rin and Hanayo decide to take her suggestion and sign up for the talent show as a dancing duo. Honoka apparently spends an inordinate amount of time picking out the perfect song for them, an upbeat tune from an upcoming idol about accepting oneself. “Trust me,” she says, “the audience will love it. Idols are all the rage these days.”

Rin suspects that Honoka picked it out on purpose for its lyrics, but for what it’s worth, it is a catchy song, the kind of song that makes Rin want to jump up and dance whenever she hears it. Luckily for her, that’s exactly what she’s going to do.

Miyazaki helps them come up with the choreography, and they spend the next few months working avidly to perfect it. Even on weekends, they often meet up at one of their houses and practice for hours. Only if they feel that they did the best they possibly could will either of them feel comfortable enough to get up onstage and let hundreds of potentially unforgiving eyes gaze upon them.

Every once in a while, a particularly nasty comment or incident will give Rin pause, and she’ll feel an almost overwhelming urge to beg Hanayo to let them drop out of the talent show. She wouldn’t do that, though; she’d never want to force her best friend to turn her back on an opportunity just for her. Besides, she’ll be okay as long as Hanayo is there with her.

—

The day before the talent show, Hanayo isn’t in school.

During lunch, Rin calls her in a panic in one of the bathroom stalls. “What’s going on?” she hisses. “Our final rehearsal is tonight! Where are you?”

“I have pneumonia,” Hanayo replies.

Rin feels like the floor is falling out from underneath her. Words crowd in her mouth, but all that comes out is, “In summer?”

Hanayo chuckles halfheartedly. “Yeah. I think I got it from my grandfather. You know his immune system isn’t the best. I don’t think I’ll be able to—” She breaks off into a fit of coughing. “I can’t come tonight. I don’t think I’ll be able to perform tomorrow. I went to the doctor yesterday after school, and he says I need to rest until the antibiotics start working.”

Rin recalls the past few days, how Hanayo had been coughing for a little while and seemed more out of breath than usual. She’d hoped it was just a cold, that it would go away in no time. Now Hanayo is sick in bed, her lungs filled with fluid, and they’re scheduled to perform tomorrow.

“Kayo-chin, I—I can’t do it on my own,” she says, her heart starting to race at the thought of standing alone on that stage.

“Sure you can,” Hanayo says. “Just…finish the school day and then go to rehearsal. I’m sure Miyazaki-sensei can help you out.” Then she hangs up before Rin has the chance to argue.

The rest of her classes are a blur. Her mind spins with worst-case scenarios, and her hands shake too much for her to even try to doodle. She speaks to no one, afraid that if she opens her mouth, nothing coherent will come out.

As soon as the dismissal bell rings, Rin snatches her things and races down the hall to the dance room. Her hands are so full that she kicks the door open with her foot.

Miyazaki flashes a smile at her, but it quickly dissipates once she sees the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

Rin drops her things on the floor against the wall. “Kayo-chin’s sick,” she says breathlessly. “Pneumonia. She can’t perform tomorrow. We have to drop out. I can’t do it without her; we have to drop out—”

Miyazaki holds up both her hands. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. Deep breaths, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

Rin nods reluctantly and tries to steady her breathing. She hears the door open and close behind her, and then Honoka says, “Where’s Hanayo-chan?”

“She’s sick,” Miyazaki says calmly. “Rin’s probably going to have to perform by herself tomorrow.”

“Oh dear,” Kotori says. “I hope she gets better soon.”

“Rin-chan can do it, though!” Honoka says. “We’ve all seen her in action. She’ll do great!”

Rin shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Umi adds matter-of-factly. “You two were basically doing the same moves, right? It’s not like you were ballroom dancing. You won’t have to change much of the choreography to turn it into a solo act. And we can help you.”

Rin shakes her head again, faster. “It’s not that. I’m not worried about how I’ll do. I’m worried about how it’ll look. I’m not one of those pretty girls everyone loves. I’m different. And everyone’s eyes will be on me and no one else. I’ll be the center of attention…and I just don’t know if I can deal with how they’ll react to that. It suits me to be a partner or a member of a group, so I can blend in more, so someone else can shine. I can’t be the girl who shines. Not like this.”

“Of course you can!” Honoka blurts. “People are afraid of what they don’t understand. But you’re a girl just like the rest of us. Now’s your chance to show everyone. You’re at the Otonokizaka Academy for Girls, aren’t you?”

“But I tried to show everyone,” Rin says, her shoulders slumping. “That’s what I thought going to this school would do. But people still treat me like I’m just too different for them. Like I’m a failed girl, like I’m the wrong kind of girl.”

It’s Miyazaki who speaks up next.

“Then that’s their problem,” she says, “not yours. There’s no such thing as a ‘wrong kind of girl.’ There are girls with short hair and girls who love sports and girls who like to work on cars and girls who wear tuxedos and girls who like to build things—and girls who were mistakenly raised as boys. And the sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner you can be free of what others think of you. People are going to judge you no matter what you do. So if dancing brings you joy, and you want to share that joy with other people, then I want you to dance your heart out on that stage tomorrow.”

For a moment, all is silent. Then Rin chuckles sheepishly. She’s right. Of course she’s right.

“Okay,” she says finally. “Who wants to help me touch up this choreography?”

—

It’s the day before summer break, and the air buzzes with excitement. Even from backstage, Rin can feel her classmates’ gazes from out in the auditorium. Her heart feels like it’s going to claw its way out of her chest and make a run for it, and part of her wants to follow suit. Deep down, though, she knows she’s ready. She’s worked as hard as she possibly could. She’s going to stay, and she’s going to perform like her life depends on it. She has to, for Hanayo.

Rin adjusts her earrings and checks her makeup one final time in the backstage mirror before Miyazaki pops her head in. “Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are almost done,” she says. “You’re up.”

Rin smooths out her dress, a cute pastel pink, the very same one she bought online over the winter. It’s her first time wearing it in public, and it fits her like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She takes a deep breath and glances down at her phone, which glows brightly with a new text message from Hanayo. I believe in you!! it reads, followed by a bunch of heart emojis.

Rin smiles, then fixes the pink barrette in her hair and heads out to the curtain area.

Honoka, Kotori, and Umi are walking offstage when Rin arrives. “You’ll do great!” Honoka whispers to her as she walks by, giving her a brief, sweaty hug. Kotori claps enthusiastically, and Umi puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Up next,” the principal says from the sound box, “we have Rin Hoshizora!”

The crowd claps politely. Rin tries her best not to look at any of them as she ambles onto the stage; her focus is only on the music and her body.

When she hears the opening of the song, all the fear and self-consciousness that’s been building up in her seems to fade away, replaced by instinct and muscle memory. She knows how to do this. She’s been doing it multiple days a week for months now.

For most of the first verse, the crowd is silent, as if they aren’t quite sure what to make of her. Then, when she bounces across the stage as the song shifts into the chorus, a few people whoop and cheer, and that’s all Rin needs to keep herself moving, to let the melody carry her home. She’s never felt more beautiful, more purely and authentically her. There’s so much she often hates about her body, but right now, she’s thankful for everything that makes her up, from her long limbs to her rectangular frame. Dancing, she’s discovered, isn’t just for conventionally attractive cis girls. It’s for anyone, as long as they have the passion and the resolve.

Honoka was right about the song choice—by the end, some people are clapping and dancing along, even singing the parts that they know. When Rin finishes the song with a smile, a wink, and a pose, the crowd responds in raucous applause. More than a few people in the audience seem shocked, and several others are smirking, shaking their heads, or mumbling to each other.

And yet, Rin finds it doesn’t particularly bother her. She’s realized something about this sudden turnaround: their acceptance of her is conditional, but her happiness is not. If being herself makes others uncomfortable…well, that’s their problem, not hers.

#love live!#rin hoshizora #hanayo koizumi #love live school idol project #love live school idol festival #trans girl rin #llsif #llsip #love live! fanfic #my fics

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baidar-oroq · 4 years

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05-Matter of fact

Her mother’s voice is calm, matter of fact, betraying not a hint of the emotions that have to be swirling behind the calm facade of her face.

“You wish to leave the village, daughter? To leave the Skatay Range and journey beyond the lands of the Viera?”

The woman who will become known as Darya of Kisne nods slowly, after a moment’s consideration. She knows that the Veena are growing more accepting of members of the tribes choosing to journey into the outside world-certainly more so than the Rava, who adhere to every tenet of the Green Word as if handed down by the gods. Nevertheless, the fact remains that she would be leaving the jungle and her people behind. That accepting that viera would choose to leave doesn’t mean it’s truly liked, or that she might one day return. Even if her mother and the others of Kisne would not mind her return-and the young woman, a mere seventy-six years old, believes that they would not-the fact remains that other tribes might resent it, and she would be greeted with a hail of arrows from the shadows. She knows this means that, barring great change, she will never see Kisne again.

Her mother sighs. She turns away from her daughter and looks out of the window of their home, nestled high in a tree on the slopes of a mountain of the Skatay Range. “You’ve always had that about you. Always hunting on the furthest edge of our territory. I knew when word began to spread that there was resistance to the Empire, that outsiders were in Rabanastre, that you would consider leaving. It’s always been your way.”

The young woman considers her words for a time before speaking. “There is a world out there, beyond our jungle. I dream of it, of beyond the horizon. I am restless, mother.”

Her mother turns her regard on her for the last time for the foreseeable future. “You’re young, my daughter. But you’ve made your choice. Go then, and be well.”

She leaves that night, taking with her a bow, a quiver of arrows, and some clothes. Word has traveled fast through Kisne, and her people let her leave without a word, or with any regard. She wipes a single tear away from her cheek and passes out of Kisne.

She makes her way across the jungle and towards Rabanastre, a city she has heard of but never visited. Fortune favors her, for she arrives at the same time as a party of adventurers from Othard, drawn by word of the legendary city and treasure. They do not find the treasure, but fortune again favors her. One of the party is Viera, of the Rava, a recent arrival to Othard, a fellow refugee in exile from the Green Word, who offers to take her to Kugane with the party. She gives her name as Mist, and it occurs to the young woman that she will be expected to give a city name to Mist. She considers it for a moment and then recalls the first woman that she ever kissed, a woman whose eyes matched those of Mist. “Darya. Darya Kisne.”

“Kisne is a village of the Veena, is it not?” Mist asks her, beneath the rickety airship that the party had journeyed to Rabanastre in. “Don’t you wish to discard it as well?”

Darya of the Kisne shakes her head, and says, in a matter of fact tone “It is who I remain, even if I have left Kisne behind.”

Mist smiles at her. “We are both rebels, after all. A good way to be, Darya.”

The airship that she journeys to Kugane in is indeed rickety. Black smoke occasionally blooms from one of the two engines, and the propeller blades drive it forward at a speed that Mist insists is woefully slow for an airship. To Darya, though, the ship seems to move as fast as the storms that race towards the peaks of the Skatay Range, putting distance between her and her past. Whatever she is to become in Kugane-Kugane being the city that the company of adventurers Mist is a part of is based-for her it approaches quickly, though it takes two weeks to make the trip. In that time, she talks to Mist, who reached Kugane in the previous year, and who makes a point to educate her fellow exile in the ways of the city. They spend most of their time below deck, sitting on crates that seem to have been in the belly of the airship for an age judging by their wear, and Mist talks.

“First thing you have to look out for, Darya, is...well. Our looks. Our appearance. We’re exotic to the people of Hingashi, especially to the Hyur there. People are willing to pay money just to be seen in our company. We’re trophies.”

Darya scowls. “Viera do that?” she asks.

Mist laughs. “Of course they do. I did, once. But I made the mistake of accepting employment from a man who thought that meant he owned me. That was his mistake. I’d suggest for you, though, another way. The way I wound up taking.”

Mist explains that she is what is known as a retainer, an employee of an adventurer, one actually from faraway Eorzea. There is a complex and complicated system of guilds for adventurers, it seems, and apparently enough work that adventurers hire other adventurers to work for them. “It pays well, and it gets your foot in the door. Far worse fates than doing light work for another adventurer. Far worse.”

“Hmm.” Darya considers this for a moment, then nods. “I’d rather do that than be paid for my appearance.”

Mist gives her a devil may care smile. “You’d fetch a lot for your appearance, Darya.”

She blushes, and is shaking her head when Mist kisses her.

Mist makes it abundantly clear that she is not interested in entanglements, and once she returns to Kugane she intends to travel to Eorzea, but she agrees to stay in Kugane long enough to let Darya find her feet. For Darya, Mist is a pleasant distraction from the emotions she feels from leaving her life behind, and ignoring the feeling that the airship is going to fall out of the sky at any moment. It’s a good two weeks, Darya will recall in days to come, when the scale of her life has grown to unforeseen levels. And Mist is certainly a welcome companion when the ship reaches Kugane, a city of such wonder that without her Darya likely would have been robbed blind by thieves because she would have been staring at the endless wall of light that was Kugane Castle at night. Mist sees this and laughs, shaking her head. “I did the same thing when I came here,” she explains, linking arms with Darya. “Let’s go introduce you to Kojima.”

Kojima is the man who served as Mist’s contact to the Adventurer’s Guild, an elderly Hyur with a growing gut and a sneer that Darya realizes is meant to be a smile. “Mist,” he says, leaning back in a chair that seems to be as rickety as the airship, in his office looking down on the Kogane Dori markets. “Find another one?”

Darya isn’t sure if he means “viera” or “random short term fling” as Mist nods. “Her name is Darya Kisne. Interested in being a retainer to get her foot in the door with the Guild. Sure you can find her something.”

Kojima leans back even further as the chair protests, his eyes locked on Darya’s chest. She fights the urge to cross her arms across her breast as he does. “Matter of fact, I can, if you’re still determined to head to Eorzea.”

“You know I am.”

Kojima leans forward. “Pity. Think you’d have gotten along with this one.” He stabs a finger into a sheet of paper on his desk. “Got a good one here. Word has it this one is one of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

Mist whistles. “Are you serious? Shit, if I hadn’t already signed a contract for the Eorzean gig...”

Darya clears her throat. “Uhm. Who are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn?”

Kojima chuckles. “Right, you wouldn’t know. They’re some kind of organization from Eorzea, serious do gooders. Rumor has it that they’ve been behind a lot of actions against the Garlean Empire, apparently spearheaded two separate rebellions, one here in Othard, the other in Eorzea. Word on the street is a couple of their newest members come from the Azim Steppe and they’ve set up shop here in Kugane.”

Darya tries to remember some of what Mist told her about the races of Othard and Eorzea between decidedly interesting kisses, and it comes to her. “They’re...xaela then? Xaela au ra?”

“You got it, little lady.” He leans over his desk and reads from the paper. “This one that’s looking for a retainer is named Baidar Oroq.”

Mist swears a familiar swear in Viera. “Now I am tempted to give up on that contract. If half the rumors in the Guild about him are true…”

Darya frowns, finally crossing her arms over her chest. “I...clearly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh. Sorry. People have heard a lot about this Scion around here. They say he’s a hell of a warrior, was involved in both of the recent uprisings against Garlemald, but get this. He’s the khagan of the Azim Steppe!” Mist grins. “The xaela determine their ruler by fighting in a battle called the Nadaam. He won the last one.”

“Wouldn’t get too excited about that part, Mist,” Kojima says. “He doesn’t seem to realize he’s the Khagan. Strange fellow. At any rate, he’s looking for someone adept at hunting, I figure Viera are, was gonna suggest you but Miss Kisne here might pass muster.” He lifts up the paper towards Darya. “I can ring him up and set up an appointment, if you’d like.”

She considers the paper for a long moment before snatching it out of Kojima’s hand and says, in a matter of fact tone “Call him for me, then.”

Much later, it amuses Darya how, from practically the moment she meets him the next day, in the Shiokaze Hostelry, she never quite manages to be so matter of fact over Baidar Oroq.

#FFxivWrite2020 #ffxivwrite #the adventures of darya kisne

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madewithonerib · 4 years

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2 Timothy 3:14-15 | But as for you, continue in the things you have learned & firmly believed, since you know from whom you have learned them. From infancy you have known the Holy SCRIPTURES, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in CHRIST JESUS.

● Titus 1:9 | We must hold firmly to the trustworthy message as it was taught, so that by sound teaching we will be able to encourage others & refute those who contradict this message.

● 1 Timothy 4:16 | Pay close attention to your life & to your teaching. Persevere in these things, for by so doing you will save both yourself & those who hear you.

● Colossians 2:1-3 | For I want you to know how much I am struggling for you & for those at Laodicea, & for all who have not met me face to face, that they may be encouraged in heart, knit together in love, & filled with the full riches of complete understanding, so that they may know the mystery of GOD, namely CHRIST, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom & knowledge.

● 1 Thessalonians 2:13 | And we continually thank GOD because, when you received the WORD of GOD that you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but as the true WORD of GOD—the WORD which is now at work in you who believe.

2 Timothy 3:12-15 | Indeed, all who desire to live godly lives in CHRIST JESUS will be persecuted, while evil men & imposters go from bad to worse, deceiving & being deceived. But as for you, continue in the things you have learned & firmly believed, since you know from whom you have learned them. From infancy you have known the Holy SCRIPTURES, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in CHRIST JESUS.

Joseph Benson, Methodist [1749–1821] | 2 Timothy 3:14

1.] From infancy you have known the Holy SCRIPTURES

The apostle calls them holy or sacred SCRIPTURES, or writings, because they were given by inspiration of the HOLY SPIRIT, through the instrumentality of holy men, because they deal with holy things, contain holy doctrines, precepts, & promises,

And are designed & calculated to make people holy.

It must be remembered, that Timothy’s mother & grandmother, being pious Jewish women, had trained him up from his childhood in the knowledge & belief of the writings of Moses & the prophets.

And their care in thus instructing him, being commended by the apostle, shows us that little children ought to be made acquainted with the SCRIPTURES as early as possible;

And that they may derive much benefit even from that imperfect knowledge of them, & of the principles of religion, which they are capable of attaining in their tenderest years.

2.] Which are able to make you wise unto salvation

Even the SCRIPTURES of the OT were able to make men thus wise, through faith in the MESSIAH, before HE came.

How much more are those of the O&NT, taken together, able, in GOD’s hand, to make us more abundantly wise unto salvation, through faith in HIM actually come, even such a salvation as was not known before JESUS was glorified?

1 Peter 1:10-12 | Concerning this salvation, the prophets, who foretold the grace to come to you, searched & investigated carefully, trying to determine the time & setting to which the SPIRIT of CHRIST in them was pointing when HE predicted the sufferings of CHRIST & the glories to follow.

It was revealed to them that they were not serving themselves but you, when they foretold the things now announced by those who preached the GOSPEL to you by the HOLY SPIRIT sent from heaven.

Even angels long to look into these things.

Matthew Henry, Nonconformist [1662-1714] | 2 Timothy 3:14

We best oppose error by promoting a solid knowledge of the word of truth; & the greatest kindness we can do to children, is to make them early to know the BIBLE.

Albert Barnes, American Theologian [1798-1870]

But continue you in the things which you have learned & been assured of - To wit, the truths of religion.

Timothy had been taught those truths when a child, & he had been confirmed in them by the instructions of Paul.

Amidst the errors & seductions of false teachers, Paul now exhorts him to hold fast those doctrines, whoever might oppose them, or whatever might be the consequence [See notes at 2 Timothy 1:13]

2.] Knowing of whom you have learned them - To wit, of his mother 2 Timothy 1:5, & of Paul [2 Timothy 1:13].

The reference seems to be particularly to the fact that he had learned these truths first from the lips of his mother [see 2 Timothy 3:15];

& the doctrine taught here is, "we have received the views of truth from a parent's lips, is a strong motive for adhering to them."

It is not to be supposed, indeed, that this is the highest motive, or that we are always to adhere to the doctrines which have been taught us, if, on maturer examination, we are convinced they are erroneous;

but that this is a strong reason for adhering to what we have been taught in early life. It is so, because:

[1] A parent has no motive for deceiving a child, & it cannot be supposed that s/he would teach them what s/he knew to be false;

[2] A parent usually has had much more experience, & much better opportunities of examining what is true, than their child has;

[3] there is a degree of respect which nature teaches us to be due to the sentiments of a parent.

A child should depart very slowly from the opinions held by a father or mother; &, when it is done, it should be only as the result of prolonged examination & prayer.

These considerations should have the greater weight, if a parent has been eminent for piety, & especially if that parent has been removed to heaven.

A child, standing by the grave of a pious father or mother, should reflect & pray much, before s/he deliberately adopts opinions which s/he knows their parents would regard as wrong.

Donald Spence Jones [1836-1917] | 2 Timothy 3:14

Abide for continue, Abide thou, etc.

Be not like these juggling heretics, blown about by every wind of doctrine, & always seeking some new thing,

but abide in the old truths which you have learnt from your childhood.

Have been assured of only here in the NT [1 Kings 1:36]

In classical Greek it has the same sense as here [among others], "to be made sure of a thing."

Of whomyou have learned them, or according to another reading of nearly equal authority.

If τίνος is the right reading, it must refer either to GOD or to Apostle Paul.

In favour of its referring to GOD is the expression in the Prophet Isaiah commented upon by our LORD in John 6:45, where παρὰ τοῦ Πατρὸς answers to παρὰ τίνος;

the promise concerning the Comforter, "HE shall teach you all things"

[John 14:26, etc.]; & the very similar reasoning of Apostle John, when he is exhorting his "little children" to stand fast in the faith, in spite of those that seduced them:

"Let that therefore abide in you which you have heard from the beginning;"

for "the anointing which you have received of HIM, abides in you, & you need not that any man teach you:

but as the same anointing teachs you of all things,...& even as it has taught yon, abide in HIM" [1 John 2:24-28];

& other similar passages.

There would obviously be great force in reminding Timothy that he had received the GOSPEL under the immediate teaching of the HOLY SPIRIT, & that it would be a shameful thing for him to turn aside under the influence of those impostors.

If τίνων does not refer to GOD, it must refer to Apostle Paul.

If, on the other hand, τίνων is the true reading [which is less probable], it must refer to Lois & Eunice, which seems rather feeble.

Yet to be asked this but been challenged a few times whether LGBTQ is sin This is an opener to the ultimate question of the LORDSHIP of JESUS, who proclaimed not only is HE the only way the holiness of GOD provided salvation for HIS followers to lead holy lives 1Pe 2:21; 1Jo 2:6

RE: twitter.com/Ligonier/status/1289984312691974144

When @RCSproul was in college he was asked, “Is CHRIST the only way?” In this brief clip, he shares how he responded.

1 Peter 2:21-22 | For to this you were called, because CHRIST also suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in HIS footsteps: “HE committed no sin, & no deceit was found in HIS mouth” 1 John 2:6 | Whoever claims to abide in HIM must walk as JESUS walked.

Challenged by when they declare marriage to same sex while working for Salvation Army, or by some such boasting—which requires gentle reminder: GOD alone defines right & wrong; tho only our LORD lived perfectly still we're mandated to imitate HIM by power of HIS HOLY SPIRIT

1Th 1:6 | you became imitators of us & of the LORD when you welcomed the message w/ joy of the HOLY SPIRIT, in spite of your great suffering Shame springs from sin—not joy We suffer plague w/ temptation & as we grow in truth—keep repenting knowing it will end at return of JESUS

At the heart of the issue of sin, be it living in sin or refusing to accept the sovereignty of GOD: >>no amount of avoidance/denial make it true/right Opinions won't clear us of our crimes, outward rituals likewise meaningless if it doesn't shift our hope & joy to stem from GOD

@threadreaderapp unroll RE: twitter.com/RyanOsinski/status/1289995668681969665 RE:RE: twitter.com/RyanOsinski/status/1290006705632247815

We know historically that the early Church did not meet in large gatherings. They met in small gatherings from house to house. It was a lot safer, cheaper, & there was food.

1Pe 2:13-15 | Submit yourselves for the LORD’s sake to every human institution, whether to the king as supreme authority, as those sent by HIM to punish those who do wrong & to praise.. For it's GOD’s will by doing good you silence ignorance of foolish men.

At least 10 statements of GOD’s will

Christians ought to make GOD’s will the practice of their life —nothing more, nothing less, & nothing else.

There are at least 10 specific statements of GOD’s particular will in the BIBLE for true believers.

1. Salvation 1 Timothy 2:4; 2 Pet. 3:9 2. Sacrifice Romans 12:1-2 3. Spirit-control Ephesians 5:17-21 4. Sanctification 1 Thessalonians 4:3-4 5. Submission 1 Peter 2:13-15 6. Satisfaction 1 Thessalonians 5:18 7. Seeking 1 John 5:14-15 8. Serving Psalm 103:21 9. Suffering 1 Peter 3:17; 4:19 10. Shepherding 1 Peter 5:2

The MacArthur Bible Commentary | 1 Thessalonians 5

1 John 5:14-15 | And this is the confidence that we have before HIM: If we ask anything according to HIS will, HE hears us. And if we know that HE hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we already possess what we have asked of HIM.

#2 Timothy 3 #2 Timothy 3:14 #2 Timothy 3:15 #Submission #1 Peter 2:13-15 #prayer #seeking #1 John 5:14-15 #ask GOD's will #according to HIS will

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hiddlesgirl · 5 years

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SH 311: Lost Souls

After a torturously long 9 month hiatus, Shadowhunters is finally back! I am so excited. This was a great mid-season premiere: packed with action, heartbreak and tender moments. Now it was slightly choppy, jumping from scene to scene and almost ending certain scenes too abruptly, but that’s understandable because we have eight main characters to catch up with in a short amount of time. That being said it was still an amazing episode that made me cry, laugh and smile.

The episode opens with Alec, Izzy and Jace on a mission together; even though it was a short scene I really liked it because I love seeing these three siblings on missions together, and it’s a little reminiscent of Season 1. Plus, they haven’t really been on a routine mission together (that hasn’t involved life threatening situations for at least one of them) for quite a while.

It is abundantly clear that Jace is spoiling for a fight; his moves are more aggressive and uncoordinated than usual; even though he is up against what appears to be a Seelie Knight he is bested much faster and easier than usual. His emotions are getting in the way and interfering with his concentration.

With no hesitation he runs head on into the Seelie’s spear with the clear intention to injure himself even despite Alec and Izzy’s presence, he is in complete self destruct mode. Before walking away he tells Izzy that if it wasn’t for him Clary would still be alive. We all knew that he was going to take her ‘death’ extremely hard, especially with the actions of the Owl hanging over his head. He feels that her death is his fault and is determined to punish himself for it in whatever way he deems fit right now.

I would like to touch on the fact that we seemed to have completely glossed over Alec’s injury at the end of 310, for it being such a big emotional thing in the last half of the episode it is slightly disappointing that we didn’t get to see the direct aftermath. I understand a small time jump but I also don’t like Alec being hurt simply for the sake of an emotional scene and then not seeing the moments after. But it seems like whenever a Shadowhunters gets injured lately an Iratze completely erases it a moment later (e.g Clary landing on the car and now Jace getting run through with a spear).

Also, it also bugs me a little the inconsistency with the Parabatai bond; such as in Season 2 Alec felt Jace cut his hand but in this scene Alec doesn’t even flinch at Jace being stabbed. It just is a bit annoying that they keep placing this huge emotional weight in the bond (especially from Alec’s side) and then being inconsistent with the details of it. At the end of the day it’s something I can put to one side to enjoy the show, but it’s still a little annoying.

The next scene is an absolutely heartbreakingly beautiful montage of Simon, Magnus and Jace thinking about Clary. It’s so beautifully put together from the editing of the flashbacks, to the amazing acting, to the breathtaking song that they use (Lost Without You by Freya Ridings). It hasn’t failed to make me cry yet and I’ve already watched it five times.

Firstly, Simon’s absolutely devastated and swimming in guilt; he believes that he killed Clary, that the mark on his head killed her. You can clearly see how much it is weighing on him and his desperation to be rid of it is clear when he takes a carpenters knife to his forehead. I also think the music was timed brilliantly because as the mark glows the lyrics ‘to have no control’ are sung and that completely encapsulates how Simon is feeling right now.

It completely breaks me to see Simon like this; he is in so much pain with losing Clary and his mother within hours of each other. Once again I am in awe of Alberto, he is so amazing at emotionally charged scenes and whenever Simon cries I cry too.

Magnus has covered his balcony in candles in tribute to Clary, all lit by hand, and his pain at losing her is clear. She was like a little sister to him, he watched her grow from child into the woman she became. We all know that Clary is one of those that he took under his wing (like Raphael, Simon and so many others). I hope that we get some Magnus and Simon interaction in the upcoming episode because I love their dynamic plus I think that they would be a really great support for each other right now.

Seeing Jace cry really hits me because he presents himself a such a stoic character that anytime he breaks down I break down a little too. You can see how much he loves Clary and how much he misses her, plus he feels like he can’t properly grieve because of his guilt. Again, the song timing is brilliant because during his scene the lyrics ‘I’ve been strong for so long I never thought how much I needed you’ are sung, and that is so true for Jace.

Clary is alive! (But we knew that already). She is definitely not happy that Lilith’s plan to resurrect Jonathan has succeeded, he may be her brother but after everything he has done and all the hurt he has caused she is not welcoming him with open arms. Jonathan on the other hand seems to be very eager to please, with multiple offers of breakfast; referring to her as his little sister, his family, more than once. He is trying to endear himself to her by using words that evoke positive feelings in her, he knows how strongly she feels about people she calls family so he is hoping that by driving home their blood connection she will come around to seeing him as such.

When Clary returns his sentiment of them being the only family they each have left you can see the micro-expression of hope of his face, Luke Baines is definitely very good at expressing without much facial movement and I am looking forward to his portrayal of Jonathan. I also noticed that Clary and Jonathan have the Iratze rune in the same place, the right side of the neck, just flipped; I think that this is a very interesting little detail, I wonder if it is something from the books or was a choice made with the makeup team? If anyone knows please let me know.

First Malec scene of 3B! Who else is screaming? Just me ... okay. Although it is only a few seconds long it is a beautiful little moment, we are getting our first look at how much Magnus life has changed now that he is without his magic. Alec reassuring him that he doesn’t need to go to the trouble of applying makeup because he is beautiful the way he is, is everything I needed; I love that Alec is reaffirming that he finds Magnus beautiful. Also that cheek kiss is adorable and long overdue in my opinion (we have waited so long for a sweet cheek kiss).

I also like that when Magnus explains, in a roundabout way, that having eyeliner makes him feel more like himself Alec accepts that. He knows that with everything that has happened Magnus needs some semblance of normalcy, even if that means taking an eternity to apply eyeliner.

It is clear that Simon is absolutely drowning in his guilt over Clary and believes that her death is his fault, Maia is trying to reassure and help him but it seems that she may be struggling with knowing how to help him best. She has never seen him in the state before, and didn’t live through these events with him, so is a little lost about how to help. For Simon, while he understands why she left and need space, really needed support and the person he was dating wasn’t there; he isn’t accusing her or trying to make her feel guilty, just expressing his feelings of needing her.

For Maia, she definitely needed that time to process and I don’t blame her for that at all, the situation with Jordan is messed up and she needed to do what was best for her at that time. But I think that she also understand that she wasn’t there when Simon needed her which has caused a bit of a rift. While they are sitting near each other the scene lacks intimacy and there definitely feels like there’s a slight disconnect.

This is a difficult situation because Maia did what she needed to do and in that time Simon went through some terrible things during which he need support from those he cares about. There is no one to blame, life just happened and it’s no one’s fault.

We know that the escaped prisoners play a big part in 3B especially for Izzy and I think that this is going to be a very interesting storyline; Izzy has always rebelled against the Clave’s view of Downworlders and is very steadfast in her beliefs about justice. I am looking forward to her investigating these allegations of torture at the Gard, it will be great to see her get a complex and important storyline that will impact the Shadow World greatly.

I feel a lot of sympathy for Jace because not only is he grieving for his grandmother (who he only knew for a few short weeks) and the woman he is in love with but he is also trying to process all the memories from the Owl. He knows that they weren’t his actions but he has to deal with the memories inside his head and the knowledge that his body was used to hurt people. He is a whirlwind of pain, anger, grief, guilt and is at a loss at how to deal with it all; especially because in the past he has repressed emotions.

I love his moment with Izzy, she misses Clary too; she was her friend, her sister. She knows that Jace needs comfort and someone to share his grief with, but she also knows that she can’t understand the full extent of his grief. I think that her expressing these emotions with help Jace a lot, that someone is acknowledging his pain and effectively saying that everything he’s feeling is okay. The little kiss Jace bestows on her hand is so adorable, and I love seeing their bond more because we have had some wonderful moments between Alec and Jace or Izzy and Alec, but not so much between Izzy and Jace; so I really look forward to seeing more scenes between them and their sibling bond.

I absolutely love the scene between Magnus, Alec and Madzie; it is so cute, Alec reading to her and Magnus watching fondly. I also love that Madzie has come so far out of her shell since we first met her in 205, she has become much more outgoing with the support of Catarina, Magnus and Alec.

I feel for Magnus when he cannot create a nightlight, you can feel not only his sense of loss for not being able to perform magic but also at not being able to do it for Madzie. But he is so proud of her when she creates her own, you can see his love for her and their goodnight exchange is so sweet. My whole heart is bursting at the adorableness of this scene.

Alec is once again expressing his support for Magnus adjusting to his new reality, validating his feelings and making sure Magnus knows that he is there to support him. I giggled so much at Alec’s expression when Magnus refuses to kiss him because of Madzie, he is so put out at not being able to kiss his boyfriend. It really shows how far he has come in that he feels so comfortable using the word boyfriend and that he hates being denied kisses; when in Season 1 he couldn’t comfortably occupy the same space or the same sofa with Magnus.

Then I outright laughed at Magnus’ line ‘Oh, you know how we get.’ Implying that they easily get carried away when kissing, it’s so funny (as is Alec’s reaction) but also hints at the passion they have for each other which I love.

Unfortunately, Iris interrupts their cosy night in plans by trying to take Madzie; what I really like is that despite the fact that Iris had raised Madzie she does not want to leave with her, telling her ‘Nana, no’. This shows that Madzie is happy with Catarina (plus Magnus and Alec) and that given the choice she would choose her new guardian; she has this new support system of people who love and support her whereas before she really only had Iris.

My heart clenches when Magnus throws out his hand and nothing happens, you can see the confusion change into disbelief, realisation and then defeat at not being able to defend Madzie. She runs straight to him, clearly feeling safe with him powers or no powers, but Magnus is clearly devastated at feeling helpless and failing in protecting her.

In planning to find Iris Alec wants Magnus to stay behind, he has just seen the reality of Magnus losing his powers; him not being able to defend himself. Alec is afraid of Magnus getting hurt, especially because they know how ruthless Iris is and that she will do anything to get Madzie back. But Magnus refuses to stay behind; he is not willing to stay on the sidelines and is prepared to do whatever it takes to protect Madzie. Alec relents because he knows that if he was in Magnus’ position he wouldn’t stay behind either, they are so similar in that respect; when it comes to protecting the people they love they will do whatever it takes no matter the risk to themselves.

I like that Alec makes the point of telling Jace that he is acting irresponsibly; so many people made sacrifices to save him from Lilith, Magnus lost his magic, Luke and Simon risked their lives (not to mention Izzy and Alec risking their lives, and Alec the Parabatai bond, in 308). It would be disrespectful to them to throw away his life after everything; plus Clary would not want him to do this to himself and using his grief for as an excuse to hurt himself is a disgrace to her memory.

I know that some people didn’t like how Alec handled this scene and that he should have been easier on him; but I think that Alec handled it perfectly. Jace needed someone to tell him the truth, not to sugar coat it, he needed a firm hand to snap him out of his rut. In addition, Alec cannot just act as a brother but also as a leader, as the Head of the Institute, he cannot allow an emotional and reckless person into the field especially when they are showing self harming tendencies. He knows that for his health Jace needs to take a break to process.

Plus, Izzy has already reached out with comfort and I don’t think Jace would have responded to it from Alec at that point. I like that the two scenes also sort of reflect Izzy and Alec’s relationships with Clary. For Izzy, she was always there to comfort, support and love Clary; they had a very close friendship. But with Alec, his relationship with Clary was more reluctant siblings; but their bond was always based on honesty, even if it was brutal.

Izzy tells Maia about what happened with Heidi, it is understandable that Maia didn’t know about this because it’s not something Simon would have felt comfortable talking about, especially so soon after. Again, this was a scene that divided opinions for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, I don’t think Izzy was accusing her when she commented on Maia not being here; I think that she was simply stating that she could not have known the entire situation because she wasn’t there to witness and live through it. This situation was always going to be difficult and awkward because I think that they understand that Maia needed space to be by herself and process her own things but she didn’t live through what happened.

Secondly, the slight contradiction of Izzy saying she has needed to be alone but that she is the sort of person who needs to be around other people, like Simon. I know that some people felt that it was more about further pushing Simon and Izzy together by giving them things in common rather than it being true for Izzy. However, while it is a little contradicting I think that Izzy does and has felt both.

When she was going through her addiction she needed that space for herself in the beginning but she began dealing with her recovery with Alec, she was able to recover better when she was surrounded by people she loved. Just because she has felt the need to be alone, and has sometimes acted on those feelings, doesn’t mean that when things get difficult she deals with it best when surrounded by people she cares about.

I need more Izzy, Alec and Magnus going on missions together; I just need more Izzy and Magnus scenes full stop. They always have such wonderful little interactions that I really want them to have a more in depth scene together. I love Magnus with a sword, and the holster he is wearing is gorgeous; I love how he deflected Iris’ attacks with it.

Jonathan and Clary have a conversation about how being raised influences who you become; Clary, raised by Jocelyn, has a strong moral compass and is generally a well balanced person; Jace, raised by Valentine, is a good person but he has some difficulty with emotion and the prejudices he was raised with (those Valentine instilled about Downworlders, I’m referring to Season 2 when under trail of the Soul Sword he said ‘yes and no’ when asked about believing in Valentine’s quest to eradicate the Downworld); Jonathan, raised by Valentine and Lilith, is emotionally stunted and has a very skewed moral compass.

When you look at how he was raised and what he has been through you can understand why he has difficultly showing emotion appropriately, issues with anger and a desperate yearning for love but not really knowing how to get it. I read that Luke actually worked with a profiler to help construct a profile for a real person who would have experienced the kind of traumas Jonathan went though. I think that this is brilliant because it helps you get a better understanding of a person and gives real world context; it also shows his dedication to portraying him authentically.

Luke is breaking my heart, his desperation and hope is clear in his wall of clues, his demeanour and his stuttering when rushing around to show Jace his work. He seems to be in complete denial over Clary’s death, has been working for three days straight to put together all these little clues on the small hope that his daughter is still alive. He loves her so entirely and he is not ready to let her go easily especially so soon after losing Jocelyn.

I’m a little sad to learn that we won’t be seeing Ollie and Sam again as they have been relocated, but it is understandable character wise. But Luke being so separate from the pack, and later leaving to find Clary, is going to cause a real strain on his relationship with the pack and is going to put his status as Alpha under threat.

We get a small glimpse into Magnus’ past when Iris infiltrates his memories; there is so much pain in them that it breaks your heart, moments from his childhood with blood on his hands are interesting because did they happen while he was with Asmodeus? I love that when he thinks of Alec and the Omamori charm it effectively kicks Iris out of his head, Alec said it would protect him and it did. I really hope that we continue to explore Magnus past.

Alec feels guilty about Magnus being taken because he didn’t insist on Magnus staying behind, what he feared has happened. He is scared because he knows how ruthless Iris is and that she is probably hurting Magnus right now but there is nothing he can do.

We find out that Raphael has taken up residence in Detroit and he seems to be genuinely remorseful for not only his direct actions but Heidi’s actions too; he feels responsible for all the hurt she has caused because he is the one was made sure she turned. I in no way excuse what he did, it was terrible and cruel, but he does appear to want to make any amends that he can to start to repair all the hurt he has caused. I would really like to see him apologise to Magnus for lying to him because we know that have an extremely close bond and we all felt betrayed when he lied to him, especially involving his sister.

Is it just me that finds it a little hilarious that the oldest vampire in New York, possibly the world, lives in the sewers? I get the need to hide away from other but surely there’s a more comfortable place? I guess we’ll find out in 312.

The second round of Magnus’ memories really hurts because they are all about his losing people he loved; the necklace he gave Camille, George, Alec in 2B and his mother. I also find the order of the memories interesting, are they in the order that hurt the most? I wonder if this was intentional or if they were just randomly put together.

This time he uses the memory of defeating Iris in 208 to kick her out of his head; I admire him so much in this scene because despite how much pain he is in he refuses to give up and is determined to keep Madzie safe. When Iris gets the note from Catarina he does appear genuinely worried but I think that he doesn’t completely realise it’s a trap because he is confused and in pain from what Iris was doing to him; if he was thinking straight I think that he would have know right away, but you can’t blame him for being disorientated. Plus being faced with the possibility of Madzie going back to Iris, which he has endured so much pain to prevent, would feel devastating.

Of course it’s a trap, Izzy being a complete badass rescuing her brother in law. While I did find it a little out of character for Magnus to seem to go after Iris after she’s been restrained I think that it was because he was in pain, angry and feeling humiliated; all that emotion was directed at Iris and he wanted to lash out.

Alec holds him back and they have a sweet little reunion moment; Magnus’ desperation to make Alec understand that he did everything he could to protect Madzie is heart breaking because he feels the need stress that he tried to protect her. Alec is just relieved he is back and knows that Magnus would have done everything in his power to prevent Iris finding Madzie, that was never in question.

Iris is taken back to the Gard, now I do feel that this storyline was a little rushed but I also understand why. There is going to be a lot happening in the coming episodes so they really needed to get this out of the way beforehand; if they hadn’t have gotten Iris out of the way now we would have questioned where she was and why she hadn’t come for Madzie in later episodes.

I am so happy that Consul Penhallow pardons Clary of her crimes and you can see the relief from Alec, it is going to mean so much to everyone that her memory isn’t burdened by those charges. However, she is not a fan of Alec’s which is slightly understandable but not justified; which is clearly felt in Alicante. When Izzy brings up the torture of prisoners the Consul denies it, but there is a hesitation and definitely something off about her demeanour; this storyline is definitely going to be very interesting.

We see the Seelie that they captured being restrained by unknown individuals, he remarks that it isn’t the Gard; it makes you wonder if they have taken him somewhere separate because of what he told Izzy and they are worried. But what the fuck are they doing to him? I have no idea what they are injecting him with but the way his body reacts reminds me of Luke from the Freeform trailer, he also had glowing veins and eyes which makes me extremely scared.

The speculations of Luke becoming a Shadowhunters again did make me wonder if the Clave are testing way of purifying demon blood as a way of getting rid of Downworlders? Instead of killing them, they turn them into mundanes? This may be completely wrong but it was just a thought that I had when connecting the Seelie with Luke and those rumours.

Alec is so proud of Magnus for being able to withstand Iris and keep Madzie safe; he knows that it must have been so difficult for Magnus to partially relive those memories (parallel to 212 anyone? Ouch). But Magnus feels ashamed that he wasn’t able to stop her directly and got injured because he wasn’t able to defend himself against her attack. He isn’t used to being physically vulnerable; it is frustrating and makes him feel more vulnerable than he has in long time.

Alec doesn’t allow Magnus to avoid the conversation and follows him around the room, he won’t let Magnus shut him out or believe that he is useless; he knows that Magnus is so full of inner strength and power, he needs to make Magnus understands and sees that as Alec does. You can see that Magnus is grateful and touched that Alec sees him that way and that kiss is wonderful, plus we finally get to see it in a wide shot; we see them embracing each other, Magnus’ hand on Alec’s waist and them moving into each other. It’s such wonderful soft intimacy that I just wish they had better lighting, it is very annoying that time and again their kisses are ruined because we can’t see them properly. Get an extra lamp in there for angels’ sake.

When Magnus pulls away you can see Alec’s face fall, he wants to be able to comfort Magnus and is trying everything he can; from verbal comfort to physical comfort. He keeps questioning Magnus to get to the route of Magnus’ emotions, he wants him to open up and stop bottling up his emotions. He knows that getting them out in the open will make him feel better, plus Alec may be able to understand better and even help.

Magnus feels humiliated because he is so used to being the caretaker that it is a complete reversal to have people take care of him; he has always been so self sufficient that it is an alien feeling to rely on others so heavily. He doesn’t want to feel like a burden to anyone. I adore Alec, ‘You’ve been taking care of others your whole life. Sometimes it’s okay to let others take care of you’. He understands that feeling because he also used to refuse to let people help him but he knows that it’s better to take help when you need it and to let people be there for you. Again, this shows how much Alec has grown that not only does he allow other people to help him and rely on them, but he is advising Magnus to do the same and wants to be the one he leans on.

Magnus is determined to hone his fighting skills so that he can protect himself better because while he can fight he is so used to relying on his magic that he needs to retrain his body to defend himself without it. Alec, of course, offers and I love the flirty way he says it and the flirty vibe they both move into; plus I love Alec’s little accent slip ‘So, what d’ya say I help ya out’, definitely more New York than his usual voice. I am so excited for the training scene next week, we’re not going to survive.

While Simon and Izzy try to find the vampire in the sewers Maia is going to check in with the pack; she knows that Luke is going to be struggling right now and after being away for about a week she wants to see how they are. The whole scene feels a little awkward and stilted, like they don’t know how to be around each other. Even though they reassure each other they will always be there for the other there definitely seems to be a disconnect. Apart from their initial hug they haven’t really touched each other, even casually; you can see that a rift has definitely formed in their romantic relationship.

Clary, in a bid to escape, stabs Jonathan in the jaw; unfortunately she inherits the wound. This is the absolutely confirmation that when Jonathan is injured Clary will get the same injury, it is yet to be seen if the reverse is true; if Clary is injured will Jonathan inherit it? You can see the horror on her face when realising that they are so intrinsically connected, that it is not going to be as easy to get rid of him this time around.

I have a lot of questions about steles though, when I first saw the scene I presumed he was using Clary’s stele but it actually looks like Alec’s. Is that the generic stele style? Are there a few different styles and all Shadowhunters just have one of the few designs? Because Alec, Izzy, Clary and Jace’s stele’s all look different.

Plus, where did he get it? Did Lilith acquire it? Did the Owl steal it? Where is Clary’s stele? Does Jonathan have it (I presume he does)?

So, to sum up, yes the episode was a little rushed but that it completely understandable with the amount of characters we had to catch up with in such a short amount of time. I think it was a great episode, with emotional scenes but also some very sweet moments. Definitely a fantastic start to 3B.

In 312, Morgenstern siblings in Paris, Clace reunite (hopefully Luke and Clary too), Sizzy on a mission and the long awaited (a whole freaking year) Malec training scene. I am screaming!

#SH 311 Review #Shadowhunters #Lost Souls #SH 311 #Shadowhunters Review #SH 3x11 #This was longer than I expected #oops #and I'm posting a few days later than planned #double oops #SH311 #SH3x11 #Shadowhunters 311 #Shadowhunters 3x11

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The Perfect Dance | Ch. 1

Title: The Perfect Dance Genre: Romance, Fluff, Minor Angst Group(s): BTS (Main) ; Others to be added Pairing(s): Jikook (Main) ; Others to be added Chapter Summary: Going to a ballet school isn’t exactly what Jungkook expected when the school said ‘Your behavior will be straightened out.’ Words: 3,794

‘Mr. Jeon your behavior is intolerable! You’re being sent somewhere to get that attitude straightened out.’ Now, if Jungkook is being honest, he deserved the scolding he got from the principal of his school. Sure, throwing a chair at a teacher and calling her a nosy bitch was a bit overboard but the lady wouldn’t shut up about how ‘You’re such a smart boy when I see you do the work but are failing all of your classes because of those delinquent friends.’

Listen, Jungkook knows he’s smart. Jungkook knows he’s capable of passing with straight A’s and have no issue. His mother is a math teacher and his father holds a masters degree in chemistry and teaches at a university! But when he got involved with the members of Bangtan 5 years ago, he just dropped in everything. The grades went from A’s to D’s and F’s. He quit all of the dance classes because they were deemed ‘uncool’ by his friends. Smoking, drinking and partying became a daily thing. Every Friday night he’d sneak out to his friends house and stay until the crack of dawn, smoking half a pack while downing beer after beer until he couldn’t walk straight.

So needless to say, Jungkook wasn't all that surprised when the principal said what he did. However, he was surprised when he got home and his parents were waiting for him, empty suitcases sitting on the floor of the living room as they told Jungkook to pack his bags. With a bit of reluctance he did as told, packing up the bedding and clothing into one suitcase and all of his keepsakes in the other. Off to the side Jungkook noticed his old dance bag shoved into the corner of his room and went over to it.

“Haven’t picked you up in a long time, have I?” Jungkook muttered softly, opening it and feeling nostalgia hit him when he pulled out and old ballet outfit, clearly too small for him now. He didn't do much ballet when he was a kid, preferring to do hip-hop and contemporary so he only did ballet once or twice a week.

One finished packing, Jungkook went to the living room, dragging his suitcases behind him with a slight struggle. “Where am I going?” He asked, voice showing sadness that made his mom give a big hug. “You’re going to a school only an hour away, Jungkookie. We’ll come visit you I promise. It’s going to help with your behavior.” His mom said, guiding him to a car that was waiting outside their house, the words ‘Seoul Ballet School’ scrawled on the side.

“Seoul Ballet School.” Jungkook said with wide eyes, instantly shaking his head and fighting off his mother's grip. “There is no way in HELL that I am going to a fucking ballet school! I’d rather go to juvy then have the guys find out where I am.” He shouted, anger taking over him. Does his mother even know what would happen to his reputation if anyone from school got wind of where he was? He’d be a laughing stock because he was doing something ‘girly.’

“Jungkook don't fight! You love dancing!” His mom said, eyes pleading with him to go. Jungkook paused at the look, remembering how his mother always beamed when she saw him dancing years ago. He remembered the pride in his father’s face whenever he won trophies at competitions.

“...Fine, I'll go. But don't expect me to return as some goody two shoes.” Jungkook muttered, throwing his suitcases in the trunk and getting in the car, slamming the door shut right after. “Just drive and don’t talk to me.” Jungkook said to the driver, taking out his phone and texting the group chat.

BTS Room:

Jungkook: Sup guys?

Tae: Kook where the hell did they take you? Do you need us to bust you out or something.

Jungkook: U-Uhm no it’s fine. They’re taking me to juvy or something. Yeah that’s it, I’ll text you later

Jungkook put away his phone and lit up a cigarette, looking out the window to admire the sights of the city. The cigarette nearly fell out of his hand as they came upon a building bigger than any he had ever seen. “Woah…” He muttered, looking at the old architecture and beautiful brickwork, not realizing that they had come to a stop until the driver opened the door, suitcases on the sidewalk. “Sir, please enter the building.” The driver said, stepping aside as Jungkook got out and entered, gaping at the main hall which was decorated like a proper theatre. Sure enough there was a woman waiting at the stairs, face warm and inviting.

“Welcome to Seoul Ballet School! My name is Mrs. Park and I’m the Dean. You must be Jungkook, correct?” She asked, taking in all of Jungkook’s tattoos and leather ensemble with critical eyes. “Well Jungkook please follow me to the office.” She said, trying to keep her voice comforting as Jungkook’s nervousness and slight hostility shone bright. As he walked with her, he peered into classrooms as they went by, stopping at one where boys were doing some fancy jumps he didn’t know the name of

“That’s the advanced boys ballet classroom for students that have been with us for over 3 years. Mrs. Park explained, taking Jungkook further down the hall to a different room filled with teenagers, all of them silent as they followed the steps of the instructor. “This is a regular class for students aged 14 - 18. You’d be in this class even though you’re 18 since you are technically a beginner here.”

“I did dance when I was younger. It was Hip-Hop and contemporary with ballet twice a week.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the dean’s office and sitting on the plush chairs. “Look, it’s obvious I don’t fit in with this school so why am I even here? Don’t you guys only accept like 20 out of 100 students that apply?” Jungkook asked with a long sigh, looking at all the trophies and pictures around the office.

“You’re here because I requested you.” The dean said, watching Jungkook choke on air. “Yes, you don’t fit in with the traditional image of Seoul Ballet School but I heard that you had previous dance training and were quite adept with contemporary competitions. You even got a ballet award at your school as a child. I believe you have potential” She said, taking out the school contract and pushing it to Jungkook. “This lists everything that happens here.”

Jungkook was in shock but took the paper, reading it over carefully before glancing up. “What are the terms to this thing? Like, how long do I have to stay here?” Jungkook asked, grabbing a pen and twirling it around in circles. His leg began to bounce up and down as he looked at the window, the stress building up. The cigarettes in his pocket were taunting him, daring to go out for one and just let off steam. This behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Park, however she decided to wait to bring that up.

“You will stay until I determine that your behavior is acceptable to return to your previous school.” Mrs. Park explained, pointing to the schedule portion. “You will live here and also get proper education every single day following this schedule. You do have the choice on whether to take ‘Arts and Crafts’ or a Language for your 5:30 - 6pm class as well. We offer English, Russian or French.”

Jungkook looked up at those words, thoughts about the cigarettes disappearing. “Wait, I can actually learn a new language? We don’t have that at my school.” He said, leaning in and putting a wide circle around ‘English.’

“Of course, we teach language to all our students on the weekdays but more specialized classes are given to the children who select it for the weekends as well.” Mrs. Park said with a smile, prepared to add Jungkook to the list of students. “Before I add you I must let you know something. The students who select these specialized weekend language classes are ones who are planning to become professionals after leaving this academy. The students who chose English are planning to go to companies like the ‘American Ballet Theatre’ or ‘The Royal Ballet’ in London.”

Jungkook cleared his throat and sat back, looking at the dean. “Why do you offer Russian and French? Are there big ballet companies too?” He asked, listening to the dean explain about all of the prestigious academies in those countries with wide eyes, his interest fully peaked. Soon enough, he caught himself, scrambling to sit back in the chair and look nonchalant. “I-I mean, I’m not sure if I’ll become some amazing dancer but, I’ll still take the classes. I’ve always wanted to learn English.”

“Very well, I’ll mark you down.” She said, writing Jungkook in for all classes after he signed the contract. “Now, I take it you do not have any proper dance attire so I will have our clothing director make some with your measurements and I will have the shoemaker have a custom fit for you in 2 days. We’ll take your measurements tomorrow. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yeah I have a few actually.” Jungkook said, gnawing at his lips as he pulled out his cigarettes and cradled them against his chest. “I know you probably aren’t surprised, but I was wondering if there was anyway I’d be able to have these? You saw how my leg shook and I get really shaky if I just try and quit altogether.” He muttered, looking at the dean with nervous eyes.

Mrs. Park knew she should say no, demand Jungkook to hand them over right away. But as she looked at him it became clear that a more delicate approach is needed with certain things. It’s abundantly clear that Jungkook is dependant on these cigarettes. They’re a way to cope and relieve stress from his daily life which is, no doubt, not the most ideal one. Being a strict, dictator like figure isn’t what this child needs right now. He needs to be nurtured in a way, brought up with equal amounts of care and discipline to build the trust. “Tell you what. I’ll let you keep that pack of cigarettes but on one condition. Slowly, we’ll ween you off of them alright? How about we start with 2 per day, only when they are absolutely necessary. If you only smoke when you need it then you’ll see how much you just smoke because you need something to do.”

“I can agree to that.” Jungkook whispered, eyes softening a bit when he heard he’d be able to keep them for now. “Thank you really. I’ve tried to quit 3 times and it’s never worked before because I just stop all at once. Maybe doing it this way would be better. Also, are cell phones allowed here by any chance? My phone is the way I keep in touch with my parents and….friends.” He said, surprising himself with the way he hesitated on the word.

“Technically speaking, cell phones are allowed here but only during free time at nights before bed. Students don’t really use them at all during the day.” She explained, sitting back in her chair and tilting her head. “Forgive me if it seems like I’m trying to pry but, you hesitated on the word friends. Is there any particular reason for that? You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal.”

Jungkook looked at the woman, feeling like he could trust her. She reminded Jungkook of his mother in a way, but for some reason he felt he could talk to her openly. Maybe because he’s never fought with Mrs. Park before. “There’s 7 of us and we call ourselves ‘Bangtan.’” He said, laughing under his breath. “It seems like a silly name but they have been my foundation for years, you know? They aren’t the best people - well then again I’m no poster child - and everyone says they’re a bad influence on me. When I started hanging out with them I quit dance because it was uncool and my grades dropped. Now all I do is drink, smoke and party. I love them because they’re my best friends though.”

Mrs. Park didn’t want to take a side, sensing it might bring out Jungkook’s anger and/or hostility. “I’m going to speak as if I’m in your shoes.” She said, waiting until Jungkook nodded. “If I was a complete stranger and heard that, I’d say there are two ways you could go about it. One way is to cut ties, realize those aren’t the types of people who will help you move forward in life.”

“The other option is to talk with them face to face, maybe going to meet them at a special spot and just tell them how you feel. Say that you love them and don’t want to lose their friendship, but in return they have to support you and what you want as well. To me it seems clear that partying is not something you enjoy deep down and you need to tell them that. Tell them you want to cut back on that and maybe focus on other things. But that is for you to decide in the end alright?” She said, watching Jungkook finally nod and sign the paper. “Now, how about I show you to your room.”

The two walked through the halls, Mrs. Park speaking about various classrooms, trophies and designs whenever Jungkook asked. Eventually they ended up in the dorm hallways, stopping at a room with a beautiful white, wooden door. “This will be your room. You will be sharing with one of our third year students Park Jimin. Also Jungkook, feel free to talk with me at any time. I may be the dean but I’m also a friend to my children here.”

Jungkook nodded and said goodbye after getting a page filled with rules, opening the door and dragging his suitcases into the room which was bare on one side and decorated with soft blues and yellows on the other side. “Woah…” He said, looking at how big the space is in general,. After a minute of gaping Jungkook got to work, making his bed with the red and black sheets and decorating his side of the wall with posters and pictures of his friends and family.

Then Jungkook put his clothing into his wardrobe, taking care to place his jeans and shirts separate from his leather outfits as usual. The final step was placing his suitcases in the corner and taking off his shoes, sitting on the bed and closing his eyes to process everything that just went down. “I’m in the most prestigious ballet academy in South Korea to get my behavior straightened out and am being forced to learn how to dance. Isn’t that just wonderful.” He muttered, taking out the rule page and reading through the schedule with more critical eyes this time, the strictness of it surprising him

“Waking up at 7am?!” He said - well more like quietly yelled. He hasn’t woken up that early in years. The school schedule read more like a military one with how orderly it was. However, Jungkook was pleasantly surprised when he saw that Sunday’s were a free day to go out and visit family and friends. “Wait, we can earn money here and go shopping with it?” He asked out loud, not expecting an answer.

“Yeah~ If you see the dean you could do work around the school and get a pretty good amount of cash.” Came a soft voice from the doorway, making Jungkook nearly jump out of his skin. “I’m Park Jimin, I take it you’re the new kid literally everyone has been talking about. All I’ve heard for the past hour is about the new tattooed kid who was sent here by his school.” Jimin said, going over to his bed and jumping on it, almost with a childlike innocence. Jungkook was taken aback by the energy but nodded nonetheless.

“Yeah. I’m Jungkook and I’m your roommate.” Jungkook said, looking back down at the paper in his hands. “Hey, tell me something. What’s this place like? It seems like a military boot camp if you ask me.” Jungkook muttered, listening to Jimin giggle and trying to stop the fuzzy feeling in his chest when he heard it.

“I thought the same thing when I applied here and saw the rules. You get used to it pretty quick if I’m being honest.” Jimin said, taking off his ballet outfit and putting on a pair of black stretch pants with a white sweater. “People who come in think it’ll be some impossible feat but they get surprised when after 2 or 3 days they are getting used to it already. I take it you aren’t used to even being conscious until 8 or 9 in the morning.”

“I want to say that you’re wrong but sadly I can’t.” Jungkook sighed, shaking his head. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m not really the type to be up and at ‘em at the crack of dawn. Hell, my school is lucky if I even get there by 10.” He said, snorting when he saw Jimin’s face. The expression on it could only be described as shock. “Yes I know it’s wrong but I don’t care honestly. My school is shit and so are the teachers pretty much. The only good thing about where I lived were my family and friends.”

“I won’t say that you’ll be some sort of saint in a few days but behavior definitely gets sorted out here. A lot of new kids mimic the behavior of the older ones and find that it starts to straighten out by itself in a week or two. Simply because if your behavior is good then teachers are more likely to spend time with you.” Jimin said, laying back. “These are the best teachers from around the world. They don’t come here to deal with unruly children who don’t want to learn. They’ll just give you detention and kick you out of class. A bit harsh but it actually works.”

“It’s hard to think that I’ll go back to my parents and friends on a Sunday and won’t be cursing in every other sentence. My friends don’t even know I’m here so they might have a stroke if they see me in, well, more feminine ballet outfits like tights and a fitted white shirt.” Jungkook said, expecting Jimin to get offended.

“Normally I’d be disgusted at someone saying that but I forgive you since you’re new here. You haven’t told me very much about the town you came from but I can guess that it’s not a very….forgiving place in terms of sexualities.” Jimin said, Jungkook humming and tilting his head to the side.

“I wouldn’t say they aren’t forgiving in terms of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people. I’d say it’s more like ignorance in a way. In the place where I came from there weren’t many people who were open about that stuff. Sure some people were but they weren’t approached often. Not out of rudeness but more because we were never really exposed to that type of stuff and culture.” Jungkook said, explaining it quite well for his first time trying. “I learned about it from the internet so I’m more open about the topic. My friends aren’t as accepting as I am but if one of us came out then the others would fight to keep them safe and happy. Same with my parents.”

Jungkook saw Jimin stare at him for a moment, a grin forming on his face afterwards. “You know, with the way everyone was talking about you, I expected some guy with crazy piercings, tattoos and is mean as hell. I didn’t expect a well spoken kid who seems like he’d fit in if he gives it a real shot.” Jimin said, seeing Jungkook’s face flush pink for a split second before looking to see that it had already gotten dark out. “You wanna talk for a bit before sleeping?” Jimin asked, wrapping himself up in his blankets.

“Sure, I’ll ask a question. So, why are you here? I mean obviously you love dancing but do you see your family and friends often?” Jungkook asked, loving how peaceful it was. He noticed Jimin shrug, face turning glum for a minute as he shook his head. “You don’t? Can I ask why or it that stuff personal?”

Jimin bit his lips, averting his eyes to the wall. “I just met you so I don’t feel comfortable talking about everything. I guess I could explain a little though.” He said, voice soft. “To put it lightly, I didn’t come here from a good family. My parents weren’t there for me because of some reasons so I was pretty much left alone from a really young age. Eventually I took up some ballet classes at a free school that was nice enough to take me in. I was there for about 10 years before Seoul Ballet School took notice of me and offered me a spot in the school. I’ve come from nothing pretty much so I have no choice but to succeed, you know? That’s all I feel comfortable speaking about for now.”

Jungkook frowned and got changed, putting on a pair of sweatpants without a shirt and crawling under the covers. “That’s horrible. I’m sorry you had to be alone for so long. But now you have family here and I’ll be your pretend little brother. You can drag me out of bed tomorrow morning.” He warned, seeing Jimin nod before reaching above his bed and turning off the lights in their room. “Night Jimin.” He hummed, getting a sleepy reply of ‘Night Night’ before closing his eyes, letting the silence of the room overtake him. It was a contrast to his parents house, where you could hear kids screaming and cars driving until the wee hours of the morning. This place was nothing but silence and security, helping lull Jungkook into sleep quicker than ever before, hoping that tomorrow would be a new start.

#kwordsmiths #maknaelinenet #sfwbangtan #kreativewritersnet #jikook

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