#He still feels accomplished and happy and felt the pride of creating Chip and he was able to forgive foxtail because he understood her

[thousandyearphantombunker]

(ignore the fact that I drew her in similar pose to Elodie- I wasn't thinking and this is my default pose for doodling ladies okay!) swap au idea! Enid is the one to betray Elodie-

In this AU Like in canon Enid and Elodie- were friends who trained together and like in canon in order to enter P.O.I.N.T Prep had to fight each other. Here Enid's insecurities led to her using dirty tactics to win against Elodie. Enid wasn't cruel or smug after winning but she did become significantly more distant keeping contact incredibly briefly until she just completely ghosted at random when she was going to visit Elodie- and she never gave her a reason why. Enid like in canon dislikes her dorky past- she sees P.O.I.N.T Prep as a new opportunity to be cooler and 'more herself' what actually happened was she threw herself into her ninja interests a lot more heavily and ignored many of her other interests inorder to become a better ninja and on top of that while she had free time early on in P.O.I.N.T Prep becoming an honors student meant she had to push herself harder to succeed. She became distant because outside of Elodie- she felt weird about her past- she lost her connections to her ghoul school friends, her date with Rad was awful, and she betrayed Elodie- because of her own insecurities- Elodie- came from wealth and was charismatic- the girl was a shoe in for P.O.I.N.T. Enid was shy. She was a witch who wanted to be a ninja and had a lot of embarrassing moments- she justified her decision to herself saying she would see Elodie- join P.O.I.N.T eventually anyway. Enid originally ghosted her out of embarrassment- she was that shy kid whose parents didn't get hee interests and who dated jerks who humiliated her- she decided to not be that girl anymore and being reminded of her past dorkiness and being recognized as that girl who was really awkward and shy being seen fully- it made her uncomfortable- when she realized she basically just ghosted her friend after betraying her she didn't bother with trying to fix things- Elodie- would move on without her anyway- she would just be remembered as that friend she had as a kid and lost connection with- and Enid herself lost a lot of her feelings and sense of connection with Elodie- outside of some fond memories. But the shame over becoming cold sticks with hee

One day she comes across her old friend and ex working at Gar's Bodega- she didn't want to go there because when people talk she's worried about being embarrassed again and while seeing those two doesn't trigger a powerful reaction initially (she's pretty much over Rad- he's just some bum she dated once and only vaguely recognizes him after he got swol) Elodie- makes a move to reconnect with someone she can hopefully Ruby elbows with and regain some confidence by achieving her goals as a hero with a powerful ally! (well more by reconnecting with Enid and being important to her again and not feeling lonely)- Enid acts likes she barely remembers her when she tries to do so. It's a really messy reunion. Enid's guilt keeps climbing it's way through and like being a witch and all the interests/hobbies she gave us she represses that feeling to feel secure in her identity as a ninja. She's very rude and unhelpful toward most people- she is apathetic and when people reach out to her she smacks their hands away hard- she also tries to shirk responsibility where ever she can- 'thats not my problem' or 'i won't get in trouble for that' she has to work hard to stay in so she drops 'unnecessary' responsibilities (which often include her responsibility to do heroic deeds and focuses on P.O.I.N.T's main objective- crushing enemies and looking good in interviews) luckily her old friend seems to fit in nicely at P.O.I.N.T and Elodie has totally moved on and she doesn't have to apologize or confront her emotions ever by talking to her because they are just aquaintences- and they end up dormmates

Elodie- in this AU ends up working at Gar's Bodega. She is quite embarrassed by this fact but is a hard working employee. She is very arrogant and sassy and loves making condescending manipulative comments to get attention- she's not above using a person's insecurities to persuade someone into doing something for her. She was embarrassed by Enid defeating because Elodie- was the shoe in- she was rich, talented, eloquent and she lost to her friend that while she doesn't look down on her doesn't have the same privileges as her and still beat her out. Then Enid ghosted her- like she didn't matter. Like her money and talents didn't matter. It burned her. She also feels embarrassed about the fact she's viewed as a pampered princess- a sissy bratty girl who wouldn't have to work hard and was spoiled by love and got a taste of the real world when she 'fairly' lost to her friend. She sort of gets joy out of being a mean girl. She 'realized' it wasn't her powers or money or privileges that had anything wrong with them- they had significance and where a major part in her victories-It was that she wasn't good enough. She failed not because of luck- it was only partially because of Enid being better than her- something was wrong with her- and what was wrong? She wasn't ruthless enough. She wasn't actually important at all she was insignificant. She wants to make a big impact with her assets and isn't ashamed of her cash or beauty and uses them to get what she wants regardless of what people say about it but that 'your actions don't matter only your bank account does' mentality hurts her-she even believes Enid might have only befriended her to learn how her bow works or because Enid wanted gifts from her . She flaunts everything she's got because she thinks it what people see even if she isn't important herself- she's very materialistic When she meets Enid again she is genuinely a bit excited to see her friend again and would love to chat- but since that friendly longing doesn't fit her new style she tells others she's using her past connection to Enid to get into P.O.I.N.T to get a chance- playing up a nepotism angle and playing into the rich socialite dick angle. When she does eventually get into P.O.I.N.T her ruthlessness benefits her- she is determined to be seen as a very important influential person and refuses to let any opportunity pass her- she wants to matter to Enid again in a way unrelated to cash and to be popular- Enid is sort of burnt out when they meet up though and it's clear the cutthroat environment and the decisions she has to make are getting to her- So Elodie- thinking Enid would want this and that all her past failures where caused by being too generous makes ruthless choices that help them both but when pinned against each other again Enid doesn't take any shots at her either despite the fact she mentally built an image of Enid as ruthless- and she has no clue why

[egg-emperor]

The Japanese Egg Memos are a lot closer to the English version than the cutscenes are (which vary a lot in general, not just with the Eggman/Sage stuff). Eggman still gets closer to Sage, and his line about Sage being a "chip off the old block" in Memo 18 is even more direct in Japanese, where he says "Like parent, like child" before hastily brushing the idea off. I'm not saying this to upset you, but you deserve to know instead of holding false hope that it wasn't present at all in Japanese.

Yeah I know, I've seen them but thanks for the consideration of giving me a heads up. I now know enough to be sure that I actually love Japanese Frontiers Eggman's characterization so no, I'm not upset. I'm very happy that it feels it was handled a lot better there. 🥰💜 I'll be taking this version that's still much more faithful to the lovable bastard in ways English came close to but had to flub with the worst dialogue that was very different to what we got in Japanese. So the latter is all I'll take into account for it now and nothing else thanks lol

It fixed most of my biggest issues in the memos and reworded parts that made it feel more right and understandable with how he thinks and acts. He's more lowkey with whether she feels more real than other creations and seems like it's more for how advanced she is, than English mentioning family blatantly. And of course he'd take pride in for how impressive it is to create, which they did try to portray. And he doesn't seem to praise her in ways that isn't always blatantly praising himself as creator in JP, much clearer than English.

And he just doesn't call himself her father or her his daughter in such sincere ways in actual cutscenes where I felt like it was the worst and most forced. I don't think him making a "like father like daughter" joke in a memo over having a similar sense of humor as creator and creation, one of the only blatant things in JP unlike how there's tons more in English, is coming off as quite as strong and forced. They specifically removed most mentions in English, even in the memos that were more faithful to the English version than cutscenes.

I think the adjustments and total removal of mentions at some parts are saying something and it feels more right. I'm relieved it seems the real game Eggman was considered much more. The vastly different context of my least favorite scenes and parts in Japanese changes a lot. Just feels like my beloved selfish bastard man praising himself to high heaven as usual and the attachment seems more in her being an especially impressive life-like creation, rather than implying sudden genuine softness and empathy and deep care beyond that.

I would prefer if the dynamic didn't exist at all because it's just not necessary but like I said earlier, I can accept it being done in more casual ways, as long as it's handled right. How it's done a lot more subtly in Archie and IDW for example was acceptable and even mildly likable at times because it was just funny and didn't take away from his evil or imply it comes from a place of genuine softness and care and feels more like "I'm technically like a father to them as my creations so I'll act like a proud one, look at the brilliant manifestations of my genius"

The Japanese version seems similar in subtlety, which doesn't take away from his evil or disregard his core character traits in the same way. English came off way too strong and overemphasized, especially in the last few scenes where it felt like he suddenly became Mr. Tinker. Apparently, in Japanese, he just calls her his greatest creation for her ability and his genius and it makes the "so emotional please cry" parts look more like disappointment to let such a great accomplishment go before it could be fully utilized in the way he intended.

While I would've still worded a couple things differently for that extra Eggman essence some parts still need, it's nowhere near as bad as English. I feel Japanese is more accurate to how far they can reasonably have a dynamic like that exist in any way and amount at all, without giving a middle finger to an important ever persistent aspect of his character at his core. So I'm satisfied enough, knowing that his actual attitude towards it and his ways of thinking about it feel much more like him. I just hope they keep it that way.

[jojo-reader-hell]

hi could i please get a rohan x sibling reader during the events of DIU?? and if u dont mind, could the reader be around 15ish and a stand user?? sorry if this is too vague

No worries! I had to do a bit of research for this one, so I hope you enjoy it regardless! I didn’t know his character too well, let me know if I did Rohan justice!

Rohan Kishibe and Sister!Reader: Tales from Moominvalley

“Are you reading that pathetic excuse of chicken scratch again?”

You looked up from your Moomin anthology, a scowl on your face when your eyes met with Rohan’s. You never understood why you got the short end of the stick with this piss poor excuse of a brother. He mocked everything you did, most brothers would protect their baby sisters from any harm in the world. A normal big brother would sacrifice life and limb, climb any mountain, face any foe, stop his own heart to pull his baby sister free from a centuries long curse. Rohan called you a basement dweller because you held weekly sessions of Dungeons and Dragons at the cyber cafe in town (it used to be held at your home, until Rohan started coming in and making fun of the plot you’d created). He would demean you as a person for getting less than perfect marks at school. Put on a good enough show for the adults that worshiped him and for the fans of his works, but treated you like a disease.

“It’s called literature, Rowboat. As in, the artist is also an accomplished writer who understands world building and human emotion. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? Go back to your cartoons.”

You had to be harsh, to protect yourself from him.

“What did you say, you little basement dweller?!” He growled.

“I said you’re nowhere near the accomplishments of Tove Jansson, artistically or in terms of writing. Now shut up and leave me alone. I’m reading about REAL emotions.”

You both continued like this back and forth, until Rohan refused to cook you dinner and you stormed out of the house in a huff, not letting him see the tears that fell down your cheeks as you slammed the door. He knew you didn’t have much money, but the way you insulted him, he couldn’t take the abuse lying down.

Not even if he had to be the responsible one, because your parents didn’t want to take care of a child anymore. Not even if he’d been the one to come and claim you, never alluding to how much he’d cried when he was told that the courts approved his request to become your legal guardian, or how excited he’d been to have the privilege of raising such a fine baby sister such as you were.

Pride got in the way. Useless pride, and perhaps even a bit of envy when he first heard you telling stories to your Stand. Defying Gravity always sat perfectly still when he saw her through the crack in your door, her head cocked as you went on and on about the worlds inside your head and the characters you thought of. Some of them seemed so familiar, and it was when he’d taken you on some outings in the city for school supplies that he noticed you were very quiet and contemplative, always watching everyone else around you live their lives as though you were watching fish swimming in an aquarium. It was always pride, because no matter how many times Rohan used his Stand on others he couldn’t seem to connect the dots like you could. Understanding people and emotions, it came so naturally to you, and yet it never seemed as though you were able to read your own brother accurately.

He noticed as he trekked to the kitchen to make some coffee that you’d left your Moomin book on the table. Strange... you never put the stupid thing down, and he never had a chance to see what it was about even though he could have easily gone to the store and picked up a copy himself. He noticed heathen that you were, you marked pages and smiled to yourself when no one was looking.

When he picked up the book, perusing random pages, he noticed you had starred some very important text bubbles, and sinking into the chair, he decided to thumb through the pages and read every bit of text that you deemed important.

“But one needs a change sometimes. We take everything too much for granted, including each other.”

“I only want to live in peace, plant potatoes and dream!”

“All things are so very uncertain, and that's exactly what makes me feel reassured.”

“It’s funny about paths and rivers, you see them go by, and suddenly you feel upset and want to be somewhere else – wherever the path or the river is going, perhaps.”

"Oh! I should like to live in that shell. I want to go inside and see who is whispering in there."

"It's only the sea. Every wave that dies on the beach sings a little song to a shell. But you mustn't go inside because it's a labyrinth and you may never come out."

“I used to stand before the mirror and look deep in my unhappy eyes and heave sighs such as: ‘Oh cruel fate!’ ‘Oh terrible lot’ ‘Nevermore.’ And in a few minutes I felt a little bit better.”

Such beauty in words, he could hardly put the book down and continued to thumb through it, gaining a little bit more insight into the cunning and beautiful thoughts you must have had every single day. He teased you because he envied you. Manga was all practicality. Never any freedom because his editor always breathed heavily down his neck at any original thought that would not sell and make Rohan an instant success. This was the fault in his craft, and he envied you because you were a dreamer. You lived your life skipping barefoot in the clouds of your imagination, but only crashing down to earth again when he jarred you with his mean spirit. To read about the words that inspired you from your favorite book, and to know you as he never could if you were standing in front of him, it felt so raw and open that his heart ached in such a way that it never had before.

And then he was shot in the chest again, because the very last passage you had underlined made him choke up with guilt.

“I put my trivial surroundings aside and mused more and more about myself, and I found this to be a bewitching occupation. I stopped asking and longed instead to speak of my thoughts and feelings. Alas, there was no one besides myself who found me interesting.”

Didn’t he have a hand in that? You used to want to tell him stories. You used to be so excited and blooming with life that no matter how many times he tried to recreate that pure enthusiasm he always failed. It was something so uniquely belonging to his baby sister that was like a daughter to him. Your sparkle, is what he called it. Your sparkle used to shine so brightly when you tried to explain the world within you, only to be shot down cruelly because he had a deadline to meet. He had a manuscript to complete because the bills were due and he had to get you a new uniform and new shoes, had to struggle and pull the strength out of himself to keep you happy and healthy, only to push you away and make you angry at him.

He was unreadable to you, Rohan realized, because you couldn’t comprehend why someone you loved and trusted with your true self rejected you so harshly.

Guilt ate at him as he put the book down where it came from, instinct pulling him into the kitchen where he began to chop vegetables and cook rice for a simple meal to be waiting for you when you returned. Rohan knew you didn’t have enough money, maybe for some chips from the convenience store, but not enough for any kind of a meal that he could take the time to cook. He had four days off, he could make you something that gave you substantial leftovers and even get to work on a lunch for you to take to school tomorrow, he could start off new. Show you how much he loved you and cared for you, his only baby in the whole wide world that he ran himself ragged for.

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 36

I have taken great pride over the years in my cleverness. Hell, I took tremendous fucking pride in my intelligence in getting one over on Homelander right before my little trip to the women’s clinic to take care of his invader spawn. That’s why having this nugget of horrifying reality slip through my fingertips, my brain matter, and my very marrow so fucking difficult to process.

I’d been in their clutches this entire time. Right in the lap of their power, where they could have crushed me, but thinking on it, that wouldn’t do. Mallory had stood in this room, or the room I’d first been treated in and warned, no threatened the lot of them with the importance of my health, hadn’t she? They couldn’t have taken a chance, not the scientists (not that I believed any of them had the authority to make that decision), and Edgar was trying to rehabilitate the image of Vought International. If they didn’t want to harm me, then-

My eyes shut, tight against the steady beeping that belied the upheaval inside of me, as I swallowed down another round of harsh truths. Everyone knew how Billy felt about supes now, it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t tell anyone who asked, so someone in this twisted company probably hoped that my fear would bear fruit. If Billy Butcher killed me, then not only would it ruin him, proving once and for all that he was just as dangerous as believed, but the Office would be shuttered as a failure. The contingency, since a backup plan is always needed where humans are concerned, would be to utilize the free reign that comes when staffing becomes run thinner. I’d never fully staffed, it hadn’t seemed necessary. I managed to cover more tasks than most, Billy aided several areas, and so on and so forth. Knock me out, even with the bit that I was doing from ‘home’, and a wiggle space was created for someone or someones to dig in and push forward. Surveillance. Or monitoring in person.

I made a truly rookie mistake. Cockiness, a belief in my own superior intelligence and abilities, and it got us here. Now how to fix it?

 The first on my list of things to accomplish toward the goal of getting things back on track with Billy and me in the pilot and copilot seats would be to have a confidential sit down with him, alone and unobserved. Paranoia thy name is Dr. Veronica Taylor.

“Ronnie?” Billy was staring at me like he thought I might bolt, and I was considering it, honestly. “Love, you alright?” I nodded, picking up my fork and absently eating while trying to think of where we could go off to, how I could find a way to let him know what I’d realized.

“I’m fine,” I smiled, or at least I tried to. From the look that Billy was giving me, I had doubts that it was convincing. “Just can’t wait to get out of here and have you all to myself.” Truer words. Just not in the sense that he might think. “In fact, Mr. Butcher, spring me from this joint, and maybe I’ll show you a preview.” His smirk grew to a full blown smile and I felt my heart speed up in response, the entire building becoming privy to how this man made me feel.

“Let me see what I can do, Veronica.” A soft kiss and he rushed off, leaving me to my own rushing thoughts of how to find a way to tell him just how fucked up the entire situation really was.

 First of all, I knew that Vought could and did implant chips into certain supes (recall Starlight’s removal of hers). If they had the capabilities to GPS their supes, what else could they chip them for? Could they implant audio/video chips? I racked my brain for any CIA tech knowledge of gadgets and gizmos that might have crossed my desk recently, but then again, I was out of the office for an extended period of time now.

Even if they ONLY implanted a GPS tracker ON ME, that didn’t mean they couldn’t use it to access the surveillance video of nearby equipment. Look, paranoia comes from knowledge, and I work for the CIA. We’re not called the Central INTELLIGENCE Agency for nothing, people.

I was worried about the antidote, too. What if it wasn’t actually a cure? What if it was another fucking variant? Or hell, what if it was just regular fucking Compound V, forcing my fucking body into regular old fucking supe soup? Damn it, I fucking was in KNOTS.

 Billy came back after work, after a day filled with more tests, more questions about how I felt. More “are you feeling warm”? More “is your abdomen tender”? And more times for me to actually feel like a fucking spy than any other time in my entire fucking existence.

“There you are,” his voice, the only fucking voice I fucking cared to hear finally. “Good news, love,” I looked up from the book I’d been hiding behind for what seemed like fucking hours. “Not only can I spring you for the day tomorrow, but the entire weekend-”

I tossed the book and would have jumped into his arms, but I was still wearing my catheter. Fuck. “Back to our house?” I was excited, but then I stopped myself. Vought had had over a month to gain access to our house. Freedom to install whatever they wanted inside our home in order to keep track of me, Billy, our private lives and our progress at work and- I was still missing something, but what?! I felt like screaming, but instead I smiled.

“Actually, I thought I’d spoil my girl with a weekend away,” I let him pull me into his chest, snuggling into the warmth of him, his broadness, his strength. “Away from doctors and needles, and beeping, and noise and questions.” Was I imagining the undertone in his voice? The undercurrent of suspicion, that paranoia that I knew existed within him. Maybe the old Billy Butcher wasn’t completely scrubbed clean after all. “Gonna surprise you, Ronnie,” he pulled back, eyes twinkling, and with a wink and a swat on my behind, he told me to grab only my purse, since he had a bag ready for me in the car.

 He meant a different car from his or mine. Completely different. Not even a company car. And that meant I was right, because we left Vought in HIS car, met Frenchie and Kimiko in this unmarked blah of a car, and then drove off in the opposite direction from where we’d gone to see the house we wanted to buy.

I was still afraid to speak, even with my purse left behind in his car. Billy’s hand reached for mine, and I sighed when our skin touched. “It’s safe, Ronnie.”

 “How can you be sure?” I muttered, jaw tense. Unsure, so damn unsure that I wasn’t a ticking time bomb. For all I knew, we knew, the cleanser I was told to use on the catheter was a fucking solution to keep the kaboom at bay. “How can we be sure I’m not fucking bugged, or chipped, or fucking-”

“Trust me?” I glanced at him to see that he was darting looks my way. Nodding to let him know that I most certainly did trust him, he smirked. “I’m taking you to some people that Mallory found to have a peek see. She’s had some doubts for awhile now, but it takes time, Ronnie.” I sighed, still tense. “Told you, I won’t lose you.”

“How far are we going?” I wanted to know how long I had to sit on pins and needles.

He kept his eyes on the road, but his hand stayed with mine. “Not far, ever been to Mallory’s house?” I shook my head and he took note out of the corner of his eye. “She don’t give out many invites, so that don’t surprise me. This is one of her hideaways. She don’t count it as her home, so she deemed it a safe spot. Don’t think it’s in her name even. She’ll meet us there, not even Frenchie or the others know where it is, just in case.”

In case I was chipped, I thought, so the collateral damage was minimal. “What if-”

“The clean up crew is on standby.” His voice was clipped, and I knew he hoped that if push came to shove, that the clean up crew was going to be used simply to clean up HIS mess, not Vought’s.

 The “house” we went to was glass and concrete. Reminded me more of our office complex tucked into a shale hillside than it did a home or even a safe house. Not that it really mattered since I was simply there for the damn doctors and science nerds to poke and prod at me to see if I was fucked up or fucked over.

I was happy that Mallory didn’t treat me like an invalid, that was a saving grace. She didn’t tisk at me, or cluck her tongue and tell me how sorry she was that this was happening. Instead she asked what I thought the plan of attack could be. We discussed things as though my body were merely a secondary object, even as I was worked over.

One scientist/doctor took the cleansing fluid for a sample, another took a sample from the catheter itself. Bloodwork, because of course, was taken. My vitals, because what day would be completely without me hearing my heartbeat in surround sound along with internal and external temperatures. On and on, but no one asked me the usual questions, or the ones that Vought asked, so I started to puzzle out those questions.

Why would they focus on those particular questions?

First, how was I feeling today? OK that one was standard regardless of where someone was a patient. Skip that one. Second, was I feeling warm? That one was slightly more focused. Given the fact that my first NOTICEABLE symptom of my pregnancy was the steaming skin, and my temperature rising when Billy was anywhere near me, or when I was pissed off. OK, but once the tiny intruder was yanked and scraped out of me, the regulation it afforded me left as well, causing that symptom to go off the rails. When they asked that in the early days, it made sense, if I was feeling warmer it would mean that the blood cleansing wasn’t working and holy shit balls clear the room, right? But once I was doing better with the ‘antidote’? Why was it so fucking shocking then? If it’s a fix, even if it’s a trial period, they were asking more fucking often-

“Hey, doctors?” Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared down at me because I was prone AGAIN. “What are my internal and external temperatures?” They noted them and they were both normal. “Take them again, please.” I waited, and considered how my nerves felt and how I wasn’t just anxious but irritated. They told me it had risen ten degrees and I groaned. Fuck. “Yeah, not a fucking antidote.” Shit. “Rush the test on the cleanser, would you?” I heard the movement and the muttering.”

“Ronnie?” It was Mallory, and I felt Billy’s hand on my cheek. “What’s going on, precisely?”

“They always ask the same questions.” I kept my eyes closed. Trying to gather my wits, and calm myself, since I was now my best fucking regulator. “First question is a throwaway, probably habit or hell for all I know it’s meant to make me think as much. Second one is ALWAYS about how warm I feel. Always. Even after-”

“They gave you the ‘cure’.” Billy’s voice was a hiss. “Those fucking cunts.”

“Are there other questions?” Mallory sounded sick, and I understood because I felt sick.

I nodded, feeling like the bile was rushing up. “Just one more. ‘Do I feel any tenderness in my abdomen?’” I could FEEL both of them staring at the catheter embedded in my abdomen. “I thought it was because that’s where I-”

“Where you hemorrhaged,” Billy whispered, his hand touching mine gently. “I signed for them to put that in you,” his voice sounded tortured and for a beat I had to hand it to Vought, they did something that even Homelander hadn’t managed to do. They’d hit Billy lower than even that caped fucker.

 The cleanser solution, what I’d taken as a benign solution to flush out a catheter whose redundancy would soon be made obsolete, had a tiny added substance that seemed to have a bit of my least favorite supe included. Yes, you read that right, I’d been flushing my catheter out with a wee bit of Homelander swimmers. I don’t even want to try to understand the genetic logic of that, and I nearly threw up when they attempted to explain it.

Billy punched a fucking wall. I envied him that, since I couldn’t actually get fucking pissed enough to do that, or I’d probably blow up and kill us all.

The antidote was clearly an antidon’t. It didn’t have Compound V, from what the doctors could see, what the determined was that with the TINY bit of Homelander leavings that they were adding into the solution to clean the catheter, they hoped to delay the inevitable, which was basically my body shutting down rather than going POP. Yes, Vought fully expected me to die, but they seemed intent on me dying in their clinic as a terrible side effect of a horrible mistake gone wrong. Sort of bandaid a bullet wound situation.

Another wall got a rather forceful introduction to Billy’s fist and once again, I was envious, but resigned.

Luckily, the doctor who seemed far more relaxed and confident assured me that he was fairly sure that I wasn’t as doomed as Vought hoped. In fact, he offered if he could have more time to study me he felt convinced he could not only remove the problematic substance, but return me to my normal human self.

I caught Mallory’s eye, hoping she would give me a sign that somehow she hadn’t accidentally pulled a fucking psycho from the pile. She smiled and shook her head, so I asked him how precisely were we going to manage this extended visit, since I was pretty fucking sure that Vought had me bagged and tagged to the hilt.

“Simple,” his smile grew as my heart sank. “We remove any chipped bit that might be within your body.”

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  the Dark Curse

Chapter 74:  The New Regina

The King was dead.

Leopold, the King of the Kingdom, father of Snow White, husband to Regina was dead.

He'd never seen it in his visions, but he couldn't say he was entirely surprised by it either. In truth, the only thing that really surprised him was that Regina had taken as long as she had. A year ago was the first time he'd had a suspicion that the King's days might be numbered. It had been Regina's birthday. They hadn't had a lesson planned for that day, but they rarely did after Regina's incident with Maleficent. To plan a lesson was to suggest a relationship that didn't exist anymore. They'd moved on from being teacher and student after she'd mastered fire. Now she saw him as something of a mentor, only calling on him when there was something specific she wanted him to teach her. Otherwise, she'd struck up a friendship with Maleficent after the incident in her Kingdom and the two women preferred to teach each other magic. They shared secrets, trades spells, Regina had even adopted the habit of using birds to carry messages for her; though she used black birds instead of ravens. These developments were fine with him all things considered. Regina wanted to be like him. She wanted to possess power like his…maybe even greater. With ambition like hers it would have been too dangerous to continue to teach her as he had before. Especially when he admitted that his own relationship to her had grown a bit muddled over the years.

He saw her as…well…he wasn't quite sure there was a word for it, but he knew creating some space was good. She was his creation, someone who depended on him and trusted him, but he was always cautious given her nature. And he felt something for her, felt some kind of emotion that he couldn't put his finger on. When she was happy and excited, he felt a bit of her joy himself. When she accomplished something they'd been working at, or she behaved in the way he wanted her to, he felt proud. When she dressed in black and there was a fire in her eyes that reminded him of Cora, he felt nearly as playful as he once had with her mother. But when she felt sad, so sad clouds rolled over the sky and thunder could be heard in the distance…he didn't know what he felt then, only that sometimes he had a wish, that he could share with her some of the images the Seer had left in his mind so she could hold onto hope for herself.

He'd felt that a bit that night a year ago. She'd summoned him to her, not exactly an oddity for her. But the room had been so heavy that night; heavy and dark. She'd lit not a single candle, nor did she stand in his presence or meet his gaze. She'd called him from where she was perched at her vanity, looking down at something small in her hands. He'd said nothing as he approached her and observed that it was a piece of jewelry. A broach. Laid with emeralds that reminded him of Zelena if only for their color. Unaware of his arrival, Regina traced them with her thumbs as she looked at it, studied it as though it was precious, but if it was, then why was he here? Why was she so miserable she hadn't even lit the candles in her room?

"A beautiful piece," he commented softly, as he came to stand behind her.

The nod Regina gave was barely noticeable. "It is beautiful," she finally responded. "A gift from…my beloved husband for my twenty-fifth birthday. I would have been speechless if this was the first time I'd seen it."

"The first time…" he'd prodded.

Regina had sighed and stood up to face him with the broach still in hand, but now her eyes were on him. "I've seen this before. My mother brought me to a party here once; it was the first time I met the King and Queen Eva. I was so star-struck that I remember nearly every detail about them both. Including…this broach. The Queen was wearing it that night."

"Ah…it belonged to his first wife then."

"And now he's just given it to me," Regina sneered, looking down at it again. "A 'special' gift for my 'special' day." With a violent jerk she threw the broach across the room where he heard it hit the floor and slide across the perfect tile. He didn't turn to watch it, but he felt certain by the sound it made it was probably chipped.

Chipped…there was something important about that…or so said the Seer.

"Do you know what he gave Snow White when she turned fifteen?" Regina questioned, taking a step closer. Impressive. He didn't move from his place, he wasn't afraid of Regina, but her motions, the way her nostrils flared and she claimed space for herself in a gentle yet threatening way, it would scare a lesser person. It would intimidate them, without question. If he wasn't so set in playing his part, he would have smiled at how far she'd come. Instead, he kept a mask firmly in place, refusing to let her see the pride he felt swell in his chest at her progression, that she was well on her way to becoming the villain he needed.

"He got her that pony she won so many tournaments on before I put it down. It was a small little thing any girl would have loved then, but when he took her to it, he'd had it trained to bow before her."

"Doesn't quite seem fair," he'd added, throwing more fuel on the fire. "She gets something original and thought out…"

"And I get a hand-me down…" she finished for him on a growl. She looked away, off in the direction she'd tossed that broach and took a few heavy breaths. He stayed focused. He didn't look away from her though he wondered if she could see the thing gleaming in the moonlight.

"I'll never be good enough for him, will I?" she stated.

The moon caught her pale skin, and he saw tears in her eyes, true tears of hurt like he hadn't seen in her before. He'd always believed that it was Cora who had done the most for him, but now that he was looking at her, he had the thought that maybe he'd gotten it wrong. Cora had done a number on her, it was true, but perhaps it was Leopold's lack of interest in his wife that had doomed her and helped him along most of all.

"Not as long as the spawn of his first wife still walks the earth happy as a lark," he replied.

And that was it. Regina had walked out of the room, and he knew, in that moment, that the King's death was imminent. That was the day that she'd stopped believing that maybe everything would work out, that the King or any man could replace Daniel and she might have a happy future someday. It was the day she accepted that she was truly alone. And now, a year later, the King's coffin was draped in black, and she was finally a widow.

And now he stood in the castle in the dead of night, just as he had when Eva had died. And for good reason. He was here to retrieve something once more. The second he'd heard the King had died so soon after his birthday when he'd appeared to be in good health, he'd suspected Regina. He'd been busy the last few days as the Apprentice had been on the move, and he'd been keeping a close eye on him. That meant he hadn't been watching Regina. But all he had to do was seize his crystal ball and demand to see Regina's movements before the King's death, and there it was.

The King had freed a genie he'd found on the shore just before his birthday and brought him into the castle. Regina had finally seen an opportunity. He watched as she tricked him into falling in love with her, as she sent her father to retrieve a snake from the genie's home in Agrabah, then gave it to the genie. She'd faked wanting to use it on herself and the genie had taken it and instead used it to kill the King. Clever girl. She'd killed the King. And she'd framed the genie for it perfectly. The guards were on the search for the genie, but they never would find him, because while she had crafted a plan that was almost worthy of him, she hadn't considered the true consequences of how she'd used her magical boy toy. Her feelings had been a fraud. His feelings had not. Without sound it was difficult to tell how it had happened exactly, but after a brief argument, he'd been bound to live in her mirror, something he only learned when he tried to look in on Regina through it and found he couldn't.

So it wasn't a perfect execution of a plan, but it was highly impressive. And he was proud. Proud…and now the proud owner of a very rare and valuable piece of magic.

Before him, unattended in a separate room of the castle, the genie's empty lamp sat. It was empty, of course, the genie was now trapped within Regina's mirror, a feat of magic he wanted desperately to observe for himself. But just because the lamp no longer held a genie didn't mean it had lost all its magic. What was he planning to do with it? He hadn't quite determined that yet, he'd been too busy since all this happened to consider it. However, that didn't change the fact that he wanted it. At the very least, it was a trophy on its own, a remnant that would forever remind him of the moment Regina had finally broken her chains.

Snow White was an orphan. And broken. Just the way Regina wanted her.

His work with Regina was nearly done. But there was still more to do.

[champagnememoirs]

Previously on Soft as a Rose, Sweet as Wine

Lexa walked through her front door and hung Aries' leash on the hook next to her keys. She heard noise coming from her living room and walked in to find Anya sitting very comfortably on her couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. There was a bag of chips beside her and a soda can next to her feet.

"Why did I think it was a good idea to give you a spare key to my house?" Lexa moved through her home picking up Anya's shoes and setting them by the door and then moving to the kitchen to get a coaster to place under her drink. "Ever heard of coasters? Oh wait, of course you have! Every time you come over and I tell you to use one."

Anya simply rolled her eyes and kept her focus on the TV. "Whatever sis, you know you love it when I come over and brighten your day with my presence," Anya took a handful of chips and handed them to Aries who was sitting on the floor looking up at her adoringly.

"Oh my god! What are you doing? You know I am training him! He's never going to learn to behave if you keep spoiling him and sneaking him junk food!" Lexa called Aries over in an attempt to get him away from the contraband snacks. Instead, he just gave a quick bark and finished his chips before moving over to where Lexa was waiting. "You two will be the end of me."

"Relax sis, a couple of chips won't kill him" Lexa just rolled her eyes, knowing there was no use in continuing her chastising when Anya was never going to listen. Besides, Aries loved her and she couldn’t really blame Anya completely for giving in to his adorable puppy eyes. Instead, she just grabbed a handful of chips for herself and settled into her couch. “Why are you even here?"

"Mom called. She wanted to know if you were coming over for Aiden's birthday next week. Said you haven't been answering your phone, and you better call her back before she comes here in person." Anya loved delivering messages from their mother. She always put on a smirk and never hesitated to tell their mom when Lexa rolled her eyes during her delivery.

Anya and Lexa were not biological sisters, but blood could not make their bonds any tighter. Anya had come into the Wood's family when Lexa was seven and Anya was ten. Lexa's mother wanted more children, but when the doctor told her she wouldn't be unable to have any more, she decided to become a foster mother instead. Her father loved kids just as much as his wife and was always happy to go along with anything that made her happy.

Anya had bounced around from family to family since she was three and she was a little hardened and mistrusting by the time she came to live with the Woods family. But Lexa always wanted a sister and she quickly bonded with the blonde rugged girl. Despite Anya's efforts to push her away, Lexa was so persistent to love her, that eventually Anya had no choice but to love the wild haired girl as well. Mr. And Mrs. Woods were kind and loving to Anya which made her feel like she belonged for once in her life. After a couple of years, the Woods adopted Anya and despite the fact that they were as alike as night and day; Anya and Lexa were inseparable.

A few years after Lexa went to college, their parents adopted Aiden. Lexa always complained that Aiden had it too good now that Anya was out of the house. But the truth was that she loved Aiden as much as Anya and she always found new ways to spoil him as much as she could; as did Anya.

"Did you take Aries for a walk by 5th again?" Anya asked with a smirk.

"No," Lexa's answer was too quick and Anya quickly picked up on it. "Liar. How long are you going to walk an extra thirty minutes just trying to run into that blonde again? It's been like three weeks dude. Move ON!" Anya actually loved the fact that Lexa was still pining over the mystery blonde. It gave her material to tease her. Which, she believed, was the right of all big sisters.

"There is nothing to move on from," Lexa shrugged her shoulders and gave her attention to Aries who was lying on the couch beside her. "She was cute, no big deal. I don't care if I don't see her again."

"Then why do you keep waking you dog in the same place where you last saw her?"

"Aries likes that street. There's a lot of flowers on the sidewalk and he likes to smell them as we walk." Lexa replied indignantly.

"Uh huh, whatever little sis," Anya rolled her eyes and just like that, she lost interest. "What are you getting Aiden for his birthday?"

“Oh no, I’m not telling you. That’s why you’re really here isn’t it?” Lexa was glad to move the conversation along but she was now worried about her sister’s real motives for breaking in to her house. “If I tell you, you would just try to buy something bigger and better and I have a really good one this year already planned."

"Not better than mine," her sister shot back.

Lexa rolled her eyes, she would not be baited into another gift war. Last time she let herself get dragged into Anya's friendly competitions, it cost her a fortune, and she got in trouble for buying her brother a motorcycle. Especially because Aiden was only turning six. Selling that thing had been a nightmare.

Lexa and Anya spent the afternoon talking and watching Netflix while Aries lounged around the house and occasionally went through the doggy door for a sprint around the backyard. They walked Aries again in the evening – this time just around the neighborhood – and returned to Lexa's for some pizza and beer. She loved quiet nights in with her sister. She was her best friend and the only person she felt she could talk to and be herself with.

As the night grew darker and they could no longer keep their eyes from closing, Lexa went up to her room to rest while Anya took to the guest bedroom. Aries was close behind and jumped and curled up on Lexa's bed. Lexa had tried to get him to sleep on his bed by the door but she couldn't resist his sad little face when he cried to be let up. "You're going to kick me out of this bed and make ME sleep by the door one day," she said with a smile as she gently rubbed behind his ears and gave him a kiss on top of his head. "If you're good, we can take another walk by 5th on Sunday and maybe, if we're lucky, we will run into Clarke." A smile flitted across her face at the thought of running into the blonde again.

Clarke looked in the mirror as she put on her earrings. Raven's firm was honoring her latest genius design which had brought the them the highest paying account in their history. Raven was the youngest architect at her firm and was proud of every accomplishment she had achieved. She had worked hard to become the best and made no apologies for her genius. Those who could afford it, fought to have her create some breathtaking masterpiece for them.

"You ready babe?" Octavia yelled out as she made her way through the apartment to Clarke's bedroom door.

"Almost!" Clarke was on the floor looking for her other shoe as Octavia walked in. "Lost shoe again?" Octavia asked already knowing the answer. Clarke just looked up and smiled. Organizational skills were just not at the top of the list of things she was good at. She knew it; and so did anyone who ever spent at least five minutes with her. She found her shoe under the bed and did quick work of getting it on. "Ready!" She yelled jumping up from her bed and twirling so Octavia could admire her outfit. The midnight blue dress hugged all her curves perfectly and ended just a few inches above her knee.

The two girls left the apartment and got into the cab that was waiting just outside their building door. When they arrived at the building – which Raven had designed – they took in the structure with awe. At the top of the steps, two men in tuxedos asked for their invitation and looked up their names on their clipboard. "Miss Griffin, Miss Blake, Please enjoy your evening," The man on the right subtly looked them both up and down admiring the two beautiful women in their stunning attire. "Thank you" replied Octavia with a flirtatious smile.

"Keep it in your pants O, we haven’t even made it past the door yet." A quiet laugh and a smile was Octavia's only response.

The inside of the building was even more luxurious and magnificent than the outside. There were stunning chandeliers and ceilings that seemed to be touching the sky. Wooden beams gave the building a rustic feel that somehow tied everything else together.

"Clarke, Octavia! Over here!" Raven's voice came from a table near the back of the room next to a stage. They made their way to the table, noticing the sea of men in suits and women in high end cocktail dresses on their way.

"I think that woman's dress costs more than our apartment" Clarke observed as she sat next to Raven. "You're probably right" Raven answered with a laugh.

"Congratulations, we're so proud of you," Octavia said as she took a seat on the other side of Raven.

"Thanks guys. I'm so happy you are here with me today," Raven smiled and took a sip of her champagne. "Doesn't the place look great? The event planners we hired have done an amazing job. Octavia, you should get their info. Aren't you having an event to celebrate the anniversary of your restaurant in a couple months?"

"Yeah I am. The place does look great." Octavia acknowledged.

All three of them looked around the room taking in the decoration. The light of the candles at each table bounced off the chandeliers giving the room a fairy tale look. The room was simply decorated, but somehow, the light of the candles and the wisteria hanging from the ceiling made the room seem magical.

The presenter called the attention of the guests and asked everyone to take their seats. After a few minutes, he was followed by several of the firm's most important partners taking the stage one by one to praise and congratulate Raven on her work and skills. Octavia and Clarke toasted and smiled with the crowd after every speech, and they felt immense pride for their friend. Only they knew how much Raven had sacrificed, struggled and overcome to be where she was now. Only they knew about her late nights studying and working two jobs to pay for college. Both Clarke and Octavia's parents had offered to help Raven pay for school. They loved her, and were happy to help, but Raven wouldn't accept any help but her own. When it was Raven's turn on stage, she thanked her partners, her staff, and made a few jokes. At the end, she looked at the girls sitting at her table and thanked her family for their support. Clarke and Octavia knew she was speaking to them. They were the only family Raven had. A tear escaped Clarke as she looked up at Raven being praised for all her hard work. "OK, enough of the mushy stuff. Ladies and gentlemen, let's party!" With that, Raven left the stage and made her way back to her friends. They congratulated her and hugged her; but shortly after, Raven was called for pictures and asked to greet a list of people who were just dying to meet her. She excused herself, and went off with the photographers and press.

"Well, it's an open bar, so it would be a shame to let it go to waste." Clarke stood and winked at Octavia. "I'm going to get a drink. Want one?"

"No, I'm going to go introduce myself to that tall drink of water over there. He's been giving me the eye and it would be a shame to let that much sexiness go to waste."

Clarke rolled her eyes and stood. "You have your priorities and I have mine," she laughed and gave Octavia's shoulder a light squeeze as she walked by. At the bar, Clarke took a glass of champagne and started to look around the room for any familiar faces. From behind her, she heard a familiar voice that made her heart skip a beat.

"Alright people, make sure drinks are well stocked. Hors d'oeuvres and champagne should be making their way around the room. Don’t forget to smile!"

Clarke turned around to look for the familiar face but only saw two young men who were busy pouring drinks and taking new orders. Great, now I am hearing her voice in my head she thought to herself with a sigh. But then, she heard it again. "Nyko, can you please check the sound system? I have heard this song like four times already. Don't let it get repetitive." Clarke turned around again and notice this time that the voice was coming from a walkie hanging from the bartender's belt. Her face lit up with a smile before she could stop it. Could it mean she was here? Would she get to see those green eyes again? She made her way through the room trying to find her. She wasn't sure what she would say but she didn't have the self control not to seek her out. Clarke never behaved this way, she was used to men and women flocking to her for attention. Something about Lexa though called out to her and she couldn't help but want to find out what it was.

She spotted Lexa at the back of the room next to the stage. She was looking intently into a tablet and muttering commands into an earpiece. Dressed in a cream colored dress that hugged her torso and then hung loosely to the floor. Her hair was pulled up in a elegant up do and she looked as beautiful as Clarke remembered. Without warning, as if feeling her presence, Lexa looked up and met Clarke's eyes. As blue met green, the entire room disappeared for a brief instance.

Lexa wasn't sure if she was actually seeing Clarke standing across the room or if she had wished seeing her again so much that she had started to hallucinate. When Clarke began to move towards her, she suddenly felt nervous and contemplated turning and hiding behind the stage. Instead, she changed channels on the walkie and spoke to Anya. "She's here!" Lexa was panicking. Lexa Woods did NOT panic.

"Who’s here?" Replied Anya, annoyed at not getting complete information.

"Clarke. The blonde I told you about from 5th street" Lexa said in hushed voice.

"Really? Where? I wanna see her!" Anya was by the entrance and started walking towards the main room in hopes of catching a glimpse at the mystery girl who had her sister all worked up. "She's coming over, what do I do?" Lexa asked in a rush all the while smiling at the people who walked by and glancing at Clarke who kept moving closer and closer.

"Tell her there's a cozy room in the back where you can get to know each other better!" Anya answered. Lexa glared at her walkie as if Anya could feel her stare. "I'm being serious, you idiot!"

"So am I," was Anya’s only unhelpful response.

"She's close, I'm going offline for a couple minutes." and with that, she cut off Anya's chatter with the click of a button. She took off her earpiece and looked up to meet blue eyes. Blue like the sky on a summer day, and a smile that was just as bright as the sun.

"Hi there," Clarke looked into Lexa’s green eyes and felt that they seemed to make her float and also held her firmly in place.

"Hey," Lexa smiled and answered.

"So you're the brilliant event planner I keep hearing about."

"I don't know if I would say brilliant, but I am flattered at the compliment" Lexa looked at the floor for a second then looked up with a shy smile that lit up her face in a way no candle or chandelier ever could. "Are you an architect?"

"Me? No, actually, Raven Reyes is my best friend." Clarke said with a proud smile.

"Really? Your friend is magnificent. Her work is inspiring. It was an honor for us to plan this for her." Lexa's praise was sincere and that somehow made Clarke like her more.

"Don't tell her that. I don't think her head could take it." Clarke let out a laugh and Lexa could see her pride for her friend despite her sarcasm and offered a smile in return.

"It was great seeing you again Clarke, but I'm afraid I have to get back to work. I'm sorry to have kept you from your date who surely must be looking for you." An innocent way to test the waters, Lexa thought.

"I didn’t come with a date," Clarke answered, a little too quickly, "Unless you count Octavia – my other best friend and roommate."

Lexa looked into Clarke's eyes and smiled. "Well, then let me give you my card. Perhaps next time we can run into each other on purpose?" She looked at Clarke for a reaction and found that Clarke had suddenly turned a little serious. "Is everything OK? I'm sorry if I'm overstepping Clarke" The way she said her name was like honey; soft and sweet. "No, not at all," She smiled and took her card. Their fingers brushed slightly and Clarke's smile grew.

"I really must get back. Have a lovely night Clarke. I hope you enjoy the party" Lexa looked into those mesmerizing blue eyes one last time and walked away. She made a mental note to stay behind the scenes as much as possible for the rest of the night. Lexa put on her earpiece again and checked on all the channels to make sure all was running smoothly. She then turned on the walkie, and as soon as she did, she heard Anya's unruly voice.

"So, did you tap that? Talk about a quickie you weren’t even gone for a whole 10 minutes. Had it been that long?" Anya's voice rang through.

"No Anya, and keep your voice down! People might hear you." The last thing Lexa needed at the moment was someone overhearing Anya's inappropriateness, or thoughts of Clarke's soft lips on her own. She would torture herself with those images later. Now, it was time to get back to work.

The cab ride home was worse than a murder interrogation. Clarke was sure that if she told Raven and Octavia that she had stashed a body in the apartment, there would have been less questions. They took turns firing questions at her, talking so quickly that Clarke didn't even bother trying to get a word in until they were done.

"What was she wearing?"

"Did she look hot?"

"Did you get her number?"

"Did you ask her out?"

"Are you going to call her?"

"Where was I this whole time? How did I miss this?"

"How come you didn't come get us and introduce us?"

The questions finally stopped and they looked at Clarke expectantly. Clarke took a deep breath and answered. "She was wearing a beautiful dress that looked very nice on her. She looked lovely. She gave me her business card and I did not ask her out. I don't know if I will call her yet," looking at Octavia she added, "You, were busy mingling with that Lincoln guy who works with Raven, and I didn't come get either of you because it was a very brief encounter and I didn't see her again all night."

Both girls frowned and looked at each other deciding not to push further. When they reached their building, they paid the cab fare and made their way inside. As they walked into their apartment, they each took off their heels and dropped them by the door. Octavia turned on the TV and Raven took the ice cream out of the fridge while Clarke took out spoons from a drawer it was all a very practiced ritual after a long night out. They didn't have to tell each other what they were doing; after years of living together, through college and after, they just knew. They all sat on the couch and ignored the TV as they recounted the night's events.

"Another successful event" Lexa tapped her beer to Anya's as they sat on the bar stools. Around them, the cleaning crew was picking up all evidence of the party.

"Yeah, and you got yourself a hot date!" Anya teased.

"No, Anya I didn't. I just gave her my card, that's all. I don't even know if she will call." But they both knew that Lexa was hoping she would get a call. "Well at least now you can stop walking down 5th like every day, you stalker" Anya quipped and elbowed Lexa gently in the ribs.

"Shut up. Help me pick up the rest of the equipment so we can go. I have a very handsome pup who's waiting for me at home." Lexa smiled at the thought of Aries waiting for her by the door.

When Lexa got home, she opened her door and just as she thought, Aries was waiting patiently for her. She loved her place but she hated coming home to an empty house. Aries saved her from lonely days. Getting him was the best impulse decision she ever made. One minute she was feeling lonely and the next, she was at the pound and bringing Aries home. It was love at first bark. She made her way to her room and went through her bedtime routine mindlessly. As she lay in bed, she thought of Clarke. Her mother would say that it was fate that they kept running into each other, but Lexa wasn’t one for superstitions. She would say however, that blue was quickly becoming her favorite color. She hoped she would call. If only so she could hear her soft melodic voice and if she was lucky, see those eyes one more time.

"Let's get some sleep Aries, before we go walking down 5th again" She laughed softly to herself and closed her eyes.

[lalobalives]

*An essay a week in 2017*

I’m three essays behind, well, two with this one, but as I learned while doing this challenge last year, sometimes you have to cut yourself some slack. I’ve traveled three times over the past month, twice on a plane. Minneapolis, Minnesota; Portland, Oregon; Washington, D.C. So yeah, you fall behind sometimes. Life happens. Be gentle with yourself. Push yourself but not to the breaking point. Just remember to write. Produce. If you want to catch up, cool. If not, then just start where you are. Remember what Daniel José Older says in his essay “Writing Begins with Forgiveness”:

Here’s what stops more people from writing than anything else: shame. That creeping, nagging sense of ‘should be,’ ‘should have been,’ and ‘if only I had…’ Shame lives in the body, it clenches our muscles when we sit at the keyboard, takes up valuable mental space with useless, repetitive conversations. Shame, and the resulting paralysis, are what happen when the whole world drills into you that you should be writing every day and you’re not.

Onward…

***

I’ve been churning this excerpt from Chapter 7 of my memoir in my mind since I got back from Tin House. It’s about the trip to Turkey in the spring of my 8th grade year that convinced me that I was ready to go to boarding school.

The day we left to Turkey, we had to meet a bus outside the school where we had practices. We were there before the sun rose, me and my mom and the other 15 kids and their parents. Then bus took us to JFK airport for our flight to Switzerland, where you could see the Alps from the airport, then on to Ankara. I held onto mom the entire bus ride to the airport. I barely looked out the window. I buried my face into her arm, inhaling her, the aroma a combination of Avon’s 24 Hour deodorant, Newport cigarettes and Estes Lauder perfume. When we arrived to the airport, I didn’t want to let her go. I cried as I watched them remove the luggage from the storage beneath the bus. “I don’t wanna go, mommy.” She hugged me tight, then cupped my face in her hands and said, “Go see the world, Vanessa.”

This was the first time I’d traveled anywhere without my family. I remember walking through Ankara with my host sister Asli, a blonde haired, blue eyed girl my age, who lived in a high rise condominium. From the windows in the apartment, you could see the entire city, the buildings with huge banners of the national hero Ataturk flapping in the wind, and the green covered mountains in the distance.

They had a live-in maid who I rarely saw. One day, I walked into the bathroom which was the size of the room I shared with my sister in New York. Asli’s period soaked underwear were in the tub. When I asked her to move them so I could shower, she sneered at me, “That’s the maid’s job.” One of the few times I saw the maid was that day, as I watched her grab the underwear and rinse them before taking them, still wet, into her room through a side door in the long hallway.

One day, towards the end of my weeklong stay there, Asli took me to the markets to go shopping for souvenirs. I cringed when I saw her push past an old woman who was begging for money. The old woman didn’t say anything. She just held out her hands, cupped in front of her, her fingers curled in awkwardly, head down, pleading. She reminded me of my great grandmother Tinita with her deep wrinkles and skin brown like the frijoles she shelled in the patio every morning. I gave the old woman all the change I had in my pocket. The women turned her eyes up to look at who had given her enough change to fill her hands. Asli pulled me away before I could meet those eyes.

I can’t remember the exact moment when I knew I was ready to leave Brooklyn, but I came back knowing I was definitely going to do it: I was going to boarding school. ~A Dim Capacity for Wings by Vanessa Mártir

Lidia Yuknavitch asked: what’s the story behind the story? The writers in my group of six asked: what was it exactly that made me decide to leave? What was it about this trip that did it for me–made me say: Yes. Me voy. I’m out?

I’ve felt that acrid taste in my throat since that day way back in 1989. It was in Turkey that I first learned shame. Shame of where I was from. Shame for being from the people I was from. For being poor and brown and from the hood.

***

While at AWP last week, I went to a lecture by Jacqueline Woodson, the insanely prolific and generous writer who has won so many awards and accolades, it’s ridiculous. But she’s also earned every single one. She’s written 32 books. Thirty-fuckin-two, yo. *pause for effect*… In her most recent book, which I devoured and just love love love, she wrote about the Bushwick, Brooklyn she grew up in in the 70s and 80s. During her lecture she spoke about how in her research, she only found tragedy when looking for stories of the neighborhood in that era. She said she wanted to honor Bushwick, that neighborhood that shaped so much of who she is.

During the Q&A, I thanked her for writing about our hood. She asked where I was from, and it turns out we grew up just blocks from one another. I asked: “How did you get past the shame that is imposed on us for being where we’re from?” She said: “that shame grew to rage.” She knew she didn’t learn that rage at home. At home she learned love and pride and hard work. She learned quickly that that shame was from the “outside gaze,” and that was how she was able to transform it to rage. “Who was that person who made me feel that shame?”

My heart flashed to the last time I let someone make me feel ashamed of where I’m from.

It’s raining out. A cold early spring day. It is night time. We are on our way back to my small one bedroom apartment in uptown Manhattan. We have just left a poetry reading. A friend and her husband are staying at my place for the night. We are talking about how she has always wanted to live in NY. They are talking about the possibilities. Where could they live? Where should they look if the opportunity presents itself? He is listing the things he needs: sufficient space, an office, a living room, a washer and dryer. The list goes on. Then he says: “I don’t want to live in a dump just to live in NY.” My insides crumble.

I am a single mom. I live in a one bedroom apartment with my daughter. It is mine. The lease in under my name. It is the apartment I moved to in a neighborhood I love, close to my aunt, to help facilitate the writing life I am building for myself. I cannot afford a two bedroom. I can’t afford a building with a washer and dryer in the basement, much less an apartment with such luxuries. I am happy to get an apartment within my price range in the quieter side of the hood. I give my daughter the bedroom because girls need their own space. I learned this when I didn’t have my own room until I was a first year at Columbia University. I am proud of what I’d accomplished, on my own, a single mom who has recently quit her full-time editing job to live this writing life. All that pride comes crashing down when I hear that word: “dump.”

I feel small. Smaller than he probably intended. It probably isn’t a direct attack on me, but it sure feels like it. I know the smugness of class privilege well. I learned it in Turkey and I learned it in boarding school and at Columbia and in corporate America and in so many places.

This man grew up in privilege. His parents are college professors. He grew up in a house in the burbs. In my mind it is a two story brick beauty with a manicured lawn and even hedges and rose bushes. The kind of house I would walk by in Wellesley, MA, where I went to boarding school, and imagine the family that lived there. So different from me and mine.

This man does not have college debt. He now lives in a house he rents for his family. When he’s struggled to pay the bills, his family has chipped in. They send care packages with his favorite treats. He can say that he will not live in “dump” just so he can live in New York. He can do so and not understand how hurtful that is. He can say that and not get how accomplished I felt (and still feel) for creating this life for myself, by myself. He does not get how that could feel good or fulfilling to anyone. All he sees is a dump.

I see freedom.

***

In Ankara, I saw myself in that maid when she picked up those period soaked panties. I could relate more to her life than I could to Asli’s. Asli who lived in a high rise condominium with a view of the city from every room. Asli with her own bedroom that had space for two beds, one that I slept in. Asli with her Guess jeans and Benetton sweaters. Asli who stared at me then to her mom when she discovered I hadn’t brought her a gift from New York. I never did tell her that I couldn’t afford to.

I understood the maid’s slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. I understood why she hid. I knew my hometown probably looked more like hers than it did Asli’s.

I saw my greatgrandmother in that old woman begging in the street in the market. I’m still haunted by the fact that I let Asli push me away when that woman looked up to see who had filled her cupped hands with change.

And so it was in Turkey that I first felt shame for being from Bushwick. The rubble for blocks. The crack. The trash strewn lots. The poverty. The hunger.

In Turkey I realized I didn’t just want to get away from my mother and her abuse. I wanted to get away from Bushwick. From home. I wanted to see a different world and be part of a different world. I wanted to not feel what I felt when I saw that woman pick up those period soaked panties. When I saw Asli sneer and say, “That’s the maid’s job.” At 13, the only way out from that suffocating feeling was to go away to boarding school. I didn’t realize that that experience would break me in an entirely different way…

That outside gaze is a mothafucka. It will break you. It will teach you shame…and then you learn to transform that shame into rage.

***

While at AWP, I went to a reading in a tunnel. One of those abandoned metro stations that has been converted to an art space. One wall was graffitied up with some dopeness in bright colors and hues. I was mesmerized. Then I noticed the opposite wall where someone had written in large letters: There are no female graffiti artists in this exhibit. Women had begun to draw and write messages in marker. I wrote:

“Carry rage in your jaw. Don’t let them take it from you. That and love are your arsenal.”

***

I had a sister friend at AWP who kept telling me she didn’t belong there, amongst all those writers and poets and wordsmiths. This woman’s work is phenomenal. I can’t count the times her poetry has taken my breath. I’ve even teared up a few times.

She’s from Bushwick, like me. She’s unmothered, like me. In her, I see so much of myself. She said I had that shit down. That I could walk into any place like I belonged there. I said: “I had to teach myself how.”

Today I sent her a Muhammad Ali quote: “I am the greatest, I said that even before I knew I was.”

I remembered how I felt at Tin House last year. I remembered how out of place I felt. I remembered that I didn’t feel that I belonged there. I thought of that so many times at my second Tin House workshop a few weeks ago. I thought about it as I stared at the ocean out my window. The Pacific crashing on the shore. The waves that started so far off the coast. The whale fin that came up off the water that last day. I knew I belonged there this year, just like I knew I belonged at AWP, just like I know my sister-friend did.

But remember what I told you: that outside gaze is a mothafucka.

***

While at AWP, I gave myself permission one morning to stay in bed until noon. I caught up on Grey’s Anatomy and watched a bunch of nature shows. During one show on the tundra, I learned about the arctic woolly bear moth that spends fourteen years freezing and unfreezing. It spends nearly 90% of its life frozen. It feeds voraciously during the brief summer month of June before it freezes again. Then, in its 14th summer, it weaves a silk cocoon where it morphs into a moth.  

This moth lives at the edge of what is possible. It lives a stop-go life for up to fourteen years to build up the resources it needs to finally pupate into an adult moth. It takes that moth a lifetime of fourteen years to get its wings…

We can all learn something from that little moth.

Relentless Files — Week 58 (#52essays2017 Week 5) *An essay a week in 2017* I’m three essays behind, well, two with this one, but as I learned while doing this challenge last year, sometimes you have to cut yourself some slack.