#she’d actually catch herself thoug

[goddesstrolls]

Nearly Lost

Tosiol drifted down the hall, hands knit loosely in front of her as she lost herself in thought.

Kairos must have left the castle - She didn’t sense them anywhere, and hadn’t seen them for over a week now. In part, she felt some relief that they saw fit to take responsibility for themselves. Nirael certainly seemed despondent and bitter about it, but dismissed the topic when Tosiol tried to gently pry.

Better to let him be dramatic and moody about it. He’d get over himself eventually.

Tosiol lifted her head as she felt a shift in the atmosphere of the castle. Someone new had entered.

She made her way to the main hall and entered silently, inadvertently masking her presence and hiding in the shadows cast by the pillars lining the large room.

She thought perhaps it might have been Kairos, and knew already that her matesprit was lounging on his throne in the main hall. She didn’t want to interrupt them, but did want to observe as the two had a tendency to bicker.

Tosiol found a thin, masked bronzeblood entertaining Nirael instead. Bold of the boy to traipse into a castle full of undead; He had an aura positively bursting with life energy.

She’d come in during introductions. Nirael seemed amused by this boy’s presence, likely at his audacity to just walk into the castle. 

It wasn’t as though anyone would have answered a knock at the door, except perhaps meek Ramira, who normally wasn’t within earshot anyway.

“...Cataclysm, or The Awakened, whichever you prefer. To whom do I have the pleasure?”

“Yumech Dibiki. Apologies for intruding. I’m just here to see Kairos.” The boy’s voice was weak, a rasping whisper that barely carried through the hall.

“Oh, they actually have friends, do they? Or, well, one, anyway.” Nirael drawled. Tosiol saw fit to step forward, catching the attention of both of them. She bowed politely to Yumech, a mild apology both for appearing suddenly and for her matesprit, while Nirael gestured at her. “Ah, this is my matesprit. Tosiol Hasiya, The Inspired.”

“It is kind of you to come so far for Kairos. However, I believe they left earlier this week.” Tosiol said as she straightened.

“Oh, they’re here.” A sharp edge of annoyance laced Nirael’s tone, breaking his blasé façade. “They’ve been here.”

“Have they?” Tosiol’s brow knit in confusion. “They’ve not been in their room for the past few nights.”

“Yeah, they’ve been in the catacombs. Actually- They’re probably dead by now.” Nirael waved a hand dismissively as he got to his feet. Tosiol stared at him, in abject shock at what he had just uttered.

Yumech seemed equally horrified. Nirael disregarded his shocked silence in favor of Tosiol’s, frowning as he meandered down the steps to her. 

“What? I’m just letting them do what they want, aaaand apparently what they want is to become one of the things down there. I’m kind of curious, actu–”

Nirael had reached Tosiol as he spoke, and she interrupted him with a slap to the face.

“I cannot believe you,” Tosiol hissed, her fury held back as she instead trembled with rage. Nirael stared at her, hand to his cheek, now fully aware that he had indeed fucked up. “We will speak more on this later. For now- Hold your tongue.”

“Got it, dearest,” Nirael chirped, his voice somewhat muted as he still pressed his hand to his cheek.

Tosiol stormed past them both. After a moment’s hesitation- Startled out of his indecision, Yumech followed.

“Let me help,” Yumech sped up to make pace with her, while Tosiol summoned her saber to her hand.

“You won’t be able to use your magic in the catacombs, boy.” Tosiol ran her hand along the blade, activating the runes; Ironically, spells of undead bane.

“I have psionics. I- I don’t know what’s down there, but- I’m sure there’s some way I can help them.”

“So be it. Prepare yourself; This place has driven better men to madness.”

The stairs leading down were not far; Cracked marble steps descending into unnatural darkness. With each step the air grew colder, thicker, then it began to feel as though it were writhing. An intense squirming sensation that filled the lungs and settled in the gut like a sickening knot.

A feeling of dread. Terrible things had happened here, were still happening here, and the souls that had been tormented and twisted for hundreds of sweeps screamed for them to either leave, or be taken into the horrible mass.

“Why did they come down here,” Tosiol breathed, mostly speaking to herself and venting her regret at this situation. If Kairos were in a state with some sense, they wouldn’t have stayed for any extended period of time. There was indeed every chance that they were dead- Or something worse.

Yumech did not respond. Tosiol gave an exhale to steady herself, as they drew deeper beneath the castle.

Finally, they reached the end of the stairs, though that was only the beginning of the catacombs. Tosiol lit a torch, and somewhere, something gave a regretful wail.

Yumech had already produced a sword, ready for whatever they faced- Or so Tosiol hoped. There was certainly a look of determination in his eyes, mingled as it was with fear and hope for Kairos.

Tosiol led him quickly, but carefully, honing her senses already attuned to the energies of life and unlife. There was something alive here, and that had to be Kairos. But their energy was muddled, and it was difficult to distinguish the source.

On top of that, she had to avoid coming across anything else here. A fight would only aggravate the amassed souls.

Tosiol slowed, hesitant as they rounded a corner- And found Kairos standing in the room beyond. They were facing the wall- Leaning against it, shoulders hunched and their posture haphazard. Kairos turned, and it was immediately apparent that they were not themselves.

Parts of their flesh had rotted, exposing muscle and bone. They were alive, still- But their soul was wounded, now festering and necrotic. They lurched an unsteady step forward- Their gaze locked on Yumech.

Tosiol felt a blaze of energy from Yumech- An involuntary, wavering burst, lasting half a second but a massive eruption nonetheless. Her head snapped around, gaze filled to the brim with concern and fear- Not here. If he lost himself here, there would be no stopping that reckoning.

The burst was brief, but in response, there came multiple ungodly shrieks from the other catacomb corridors. The oppressive, writhing sensation of the place intensified tenfold, enough to cause Tosiol’s muscles to momentarily freeze in a deep flinch. 

By the time she managed to land her gaze on Yumech, the outburst had long since passed, though fear still painted his face, at himself and for Kairos.

Kairos stumbled and staggered slowly towards them, jaws parted and fangs half-bared. Tosiol extended her saber in case they attempted to rush Yumech- But Yumech stepped forward of his own accord. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around Kairos’ middle. The fuchsia made some attempt as though to bite at Yumech’s shoulder, but sagged and went limp partway through the action. 

“We must go. Quickly,” hissed Tosiol as Yumech let Kairos go to instead grip their hand, their movements even more sluggish but now non-aggressive. 

She turned, and began to lead them out- Paying close attention to assure the two living trolls behind her remained close. Yumech paused to haul Kairos onto his shoulders, and Tosiol froze when she spotted something rushing down the hall behind them.

It had once been a troll, but no longer, its form twisted and sagging but still reminiscent of what it once was. A shadow dropped from the ceiling, and another jade bearing startling resemblance to Tosiol herself rendered the undead into pieces.

“Esalla!” Tosiol exclaimed. “You followed us, clever girl! Do not stay too close, now.”

Esalla barely made eye contact to confirm her ancestor’s order before she vanished again into the dark.

Tosiol forged onwards, their path now littered with dispatched undead, sliced apart by Esalla. Another being- This one writhing with all together too many limbs, rushed out of an entrance to the side and threw itself at Yumech. It clawed in vain, drawing blood, its mouth obscured by the mass of tangled limbs. 

Yumech’s own hands were occupied with holding Kairos. Tosiol darted forward and dispatched the undead, hacking through limbs until she reached the head.

She looked back to Yumech, who had a hand pressed to the scratch on his neck he’d received and a look of fear- No doubt worrying Tosiol would react to the scent of fresh blood, inundated with magic as it was.

Tosiol just grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onwards; The stairs leading out of the catacombs were near, and the undead were closing in. If they lingered, they might come across something truly terrible.

The final stretch was a single hallway, and the stairs leading up. Yumech hurried along it while Tosiol backed her way out, assuring nothing else could pass and reach Yumech while he climbed the stairs.

When she heard the catacomb door open, she turned and darted out after Yumech and Kairos. She slammed the door shut- Esalla could escape easily, if she hadn’t already.

Kairos seemed to regain some consciousness- And immediately began to struggle, clawing at themselves with pained gasps, and Yumech was forced to sink to his knees and set them down to prevent himself from losing balance.

Kairos writhed on the floor, curling in on themselves. They pressed a half-rotted hand to their face with the other clutched to their chest in desperation to ease their agony. Yumech pressed his own hand to the one on their chest, light- Controlled this time- Radiating out as he soothed their pain. 

Tosiol was hardly a mage herself- But it was clear he was doing everything he could for them.

Nirael was waiting nearby, and approached, mouth drawn in an unimpressed line. He grimaced and parted his lips to say something.

“Not a word,” snapped Tosiol. Nirael shut his mouth.

Yumech began to lift their hands away; This was no place to tend to Kairos, and Tosiol swooped in to scoop them up and ferry them to their room with Yumech in tow.

She spent the next hour assuring both of them were cared for- Yumech had a room near Kairos’ set up, though she had a feeling it would go unused. A very light meal and water was provided for Kairos- They hadn’t eaten in a week, the catacombs suppressing the starvation and dehydration that was sure to be settling on them now.

Nirael hung around the kitchen, dejected and awkward, and Tosiol ignored him.

[percontaion-points]

Edible Delectables chapters 1 & 2

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 1

It was December and the city was in full holiday swing. Kara’s best friend, Evalyn McCartney, had driven out to the Wassailfest in New Braunfels, with her husband Eric and his family. They had extended the invitation to Kara as well, and while Kara adored the McCartney’s, she had given the excuse that she wasn’t feeling all that well in order to get out of going. Instead, she’d said she would just go visit with Ryan, her other close friend, and honorary brother. In reality, she was looking forward to just hanging out and drinking margaritas, while catching up with a good friend she hadn’t seen in ages, due to the recent success of her business. 

Edible Delectables, Kara’s bakery, had slowly been gaining in popularity since opening its doors the year before. A booming business was what she had been striving for, but the bakery had yet to earn enough revenue for extra help. The result was limited time outside of work for friends or anything else. 

Kara was determined this weekend would be different, so of course it would be that when she finally got around to calling Ryan, it turned out to be his mother’s birthday. Ryan, ever the doting son, had already planned to take his mother to dinner. Marla Wittman was a widow and Ryan made every attempt he could to keep her from being lonely. He invited Kara along, and while it wouldn’t be the same as hanging out at Ryan’s apartment getting drunk and hearing about his latest conquests, it was bound to be better than polite conversations with the McCartney’s, or worse, staying home alone. We could always hang out after dinner, Kara thought, and accepted the invitation.

I’m fine with establishing backstory, what’s going on, why characters are doing what they’re doing…

But the problem is that this is literally page one. I don’t care about any of this, BECAUSE THE AUTHOR HAS BARELY TOLD US THE NAME OF THE MAIN CHARACTER. 

Only now, just hours later, here she was in the bathroom of Andy’s Steakhouse, sweating and emptying her innards into the toilet of a public restroom…

[...]

Shuffling over to the sink, she washed her hands before she grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and wiped down her face. She looked into the mirror, and cringed at her reflection. Kara had never really considered herself to be stunning or beautiful, but she knew she wasn’t completely unattractive either. Her body was shapely and toned, and her auburn hair, while not all that exciting, was long, healthy and shiny.

The last time I vomited in a public toilet, the first thing I did was to go check out how shiny my hair was in the mirror. 

SAID NOBODY. EVER. 

…Kara’s cell phone began to ring out with Peanut Butter Jelly!, Kara’s ringtone for Eva.

Nothing quite like immediately dating your story. 

 Standing up straight he stretched his arms above his head and popped his neck and back as best he could before heading back into the pit.

Chapter 1 summary: As mentioned earlier, we open on this immense info dump, which never actually lets us get to know the characters before shoving us into the story. What you need to know is that the MC, Kara, is out with her friend Ryan and his mom for his mom’s birthday dinner. The food barely comes when Kara has to bolt to the bathroom to be physically ill. When she gets back, she finds that she can’t eat, and regrets how she rode over with them. Her friend’s mom eats really, REALLY slow, to the point of it being annoying. 

Ryan drops her off at her car, but she doesn’t want to be alone. She tries calling another friend and her husband, Eva and Eric, but they aren’t answering. So instead, she goes over to Eric’s mom’s house, where she lies down for a little bit. When Eva finally calls her back, Kara says she thinks that she needs to go to the ER.

We then randomly jump over to the male lead, Jason, who is a paediatric doctor at the hospital. But tonight is busy, so he’s working the ER. And if you thought that the end of the chapter would be with Kara coming in, then you are clearly expecting something much better than what this book is shaping up to be. 

Chapter 2

“Have you called Paul yet?” Evalyn asked, as they made their way inside the building. She dug in her purse for a hair band and quickly pulled her long strawberry blonde hair into a pony tail. Eric walked beside her, his arm around Kara’s midsection, trying to help ease the discomfort caused by walking. Paul was Kara’s father, her mother had passed away while Kara was in high school, and ever since her father had raised her alone He’d done a fine job and Kara had grown up happy, but he tended to overreact where Kara’s health and well-being were concerned.

The problem with this pulled-to-publish Twilight fanfic is that… When you’re reading the fanfic and the character says “Have you called Charlie?” every reader knows who that is. We don’t need to stop the narration to explain to the reader who Charlie is.

But it’s like the author has no idea how to write something other than pre-established characters. So what was an effortless, throw-away line in the fanfic turns into this bumbling mess that literally stops the narration so that it can explain Kara’s family dynamics to us. 

EXCEPT THAT WE STILL DON’T CARE. 

He'd been a senior and she a junior when they were in high school. He knew her, or rather knew of her, but they’d never actually spoken. She was quiet and kept to herself and a small group of close friends. He'd seen her in the library during lunch on more than one occasion. Jason spent a great deal of time in the library studying. His parents had moved from Seattle to Austin his senior year; he'd begged them to let him stay to finish school, but his parents wouldn't hear of it. They were a family and they were moving together, they insisted. They were convinced he'd make new friends and everything would be fine. They thought maybe he would let go of his determination to head back to Seattle for college, but they had underestimated just how determined Jason had been. 

NOBODY FUCKING CARES. GET BACK TO THE GODDAMNED ER BUSINESS, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. 

Jason. Not Dr. Dietrich. Did she remember him, too?

Chapter 2 summary: Eva and Eric take Kara to the hospital, except every fucking thing is interrupted to explain some goddamned asinine thing every other paragraph. Not really, but it sure seemed like it at times. Kara gets checked in, but it’s busy, so she’s going to have to wait. She eventually tries to ask the intake nurse if there’s somewhere she can lie down, and another doctor says that there’s an empty gurney in the hall, and Kara can have it.

We switch over to Jason’s POV, and he randomly thinks he knows the name of Kara Baker when he’s handed her chart. We then bring the narration to yet another screeching halt so that we can explain that his family forced him to move his senior year of high school, and he ended up at the school with Kara. She was a year below him, and he would have 100% gone after her… if he hadn’t already promised himself to some random third party named Katie. 

He then does an exam on Kara and thinks that she has appendicitis. But to be on the safe side, he wants to do a pelvic exam to rule out something like ovarian cysts. We’re then subjected to THAT exam as well. It’s like the author has no concept of skipping ahead. After he leaves the room, Kara suddenly remembers him from high school. Finally, Jason rules that she does have appendicitis, and that she should get into surgery as soon as possible. 

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

Promises

Got back into One Piece and can’t get over the fact that Ace is dead. And so I decided that he won’t be in my head and started to write a few things here and there. Shamelessly plugging an OC, because I love him to bits. And he needs a happy end. So... Here we go! Humming to herself, Saki turned the page of her book, eyes fixed on the letters as she walked along the deck. The Moby Dick’s library really was something else, she had never seen so many rare books – on zoology, botanic, devil fruits, Haki, really anything the heart could desire.While the date signature on the first page had let her know that this particular book was more than 20 years old by now and it was written by hand, she had never seen anything else as detailed when it came to different species of geckos in the new world. Who’d have guessed that there was actually a small species in the New World that was literally able to spit fire? Maybe they’d pass by that island at some point…Turning another page, she suddenly collided with something quite solid and yelped, barely managing to catch the book before it hit the ground. Which brought her eye-level with a way too big belt-buckled labelled with a giant “A” on it. “Shouldn’t you be looking where you’re going?” her obstacle asked her. She didn’t need to look up into his face to see the wide grin. Rolling her eyes, she straightened and closed the book, keeping one finger in between the pages. “Shouldn’t you be a nice enough not to find a secondary occupation as a wall?” He laughed, but of course didn’t move a single step out of the way. She felt a grin tug on the corners of her mouth and couldn’t help but give him a playful shove – which didn’t move him more than perhaps a centimeter. “Well, if my pirating days are over, I’ll always have something to fall back to. Gotta practice, though,” he replied, resting a hand on the railing and crouching down slightly, so she didn’t have to look up to him too much. “And what a pretty wall you’ll make one day, sweetheart.” This time she couldn’t help and did have to smile, unable to not at least briefly let her eyes wander down over his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Again. She’d given up to try and get him to wear one – he kept asking why, and she was running out of excuses and she couldn’t very well tell him, that it was distracting as hell. It had always been, but she felt like he’d gotten even… worse. Yes. Worse. All those finely defined muscles, tanned skin. Horrible, really. “Awww, you make me blush!” His grin widened even more, but there was no sign of a blush. Thankfully, he didn’t take her seriously – which meant she got away with way more than she would usually allow herself to say. “You’d make a pretty wall too, Saki!” he added after a moment and imitated her, looking her over with a feigned contemplating expression. “Maybe a bit bumpy.” The woman took a moment to register that last part, distracted by how he allowed his eyes to linger on her just a moment too long to be absolutely casual, before meeting her gaze again. Sometimes he almost made her think there was more to the flirting than just that… if she didn’t know any better… “Well, that complaint is a first.” She was quick to answer and laughed. “Oh, it’s definitely not a complaint. I just think that perhaps you’ll need another occupation – that way, at least, I’ll not have too much competition!” Ace suddenly straightened again and she’d have sworn there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “Such as?” she inquired, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. “Cushion?” Ace suggested and a heart-beat later, quickly continued: “Uhm… I mean… I would sure be nice to-… you know. Because- I mean, not soft soft, but like- because a cushion…” He silenced himself, suddenly embarrassed and she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.She didn’t know what was worse, the fact that he had apparently blurted out the first thing that came to mind – cushion! Of all things! – or that he was then way too embarrassed to explain his train of thought, while obviously being afraid of insulting her in some way. He was just too cute for her own good. Anybody else, and she’d have been probably indeed offended, but somehow, she couldn’t be when it was him. She’d not be opposed to being his cushion at some point – not that she’d ever tell him that. “Yes? You were saying?” She was looking up at him, as he was fidgeting with his hat and he got even more nervous, mumbling something about how cushions were actually good, especially when you were tired or when you wanted a nap, and how being soft was a good thing, really, and then, finally meeting her eyes again, realized he’d been had. “You’re evil,” he stated and dropped his hands, all but pouting. Desperately resisting the urge touch him, she folded her arms behind her back, tightly holding onto the book. She tried her best, but absolutely couldn’t manage to sound sincere: “Excuse-moi.” And since she didn’t sound like she was sorry at all, she decided she might just as well continue. “Just glad to hear my soft bumpiness isn’t too appalling.” He murmured something under his breath and then, louder: “As if you needed that confirmed by me... From what I heard, somebody was really happy to see you yesterday.” Huh? Where had that come from? The others must have told him about the new rookie that told her in no uncertain terms how she could doctor him once she had a moment, very obviously thinking she was one of the nurses on the Moby Dick, looking her up and down. That comment had cost the guy a tooth, a black eye and a big dent in his ego. She’d learned is was best to put them in their place from the get-go. Friendly words just encouraged some of them. “You know, something like that is pretty much the opposite of a compliment. Makes you feel like they think you’re a little joy-toy for the whole crew or something,” she told him and made a gagging motion to underline her point. It usually only happened with newbies – the Whitebeard pirates were a rowdy bunch, but all good guys that respected her and were never rude. That she could throw a good punch didn’t hurt either. The rookies just sometimes felt like they needed to prove their manliness, or were not used to women in the crew. Something that she did blame Whitebeard a bit for. “Who was it?” Ace asked and she noticed with a start that he looked way too serious all of a sudden. Dummy looked he wanted to go and avenge her honor any moment now. “Did Marco tell you who it was?” Saki asked instead of answering, and he stiffly shook his head. “Well, and why do you think that is, sweetheart?” And just like that, his jaw was set. Because he knew the answer, he just didn’t like it. Since he didn’t answer her, she just shrugged and continued talking. “Look, I punched him in the nose, made him apologize and told him a bit about respect, before I let him go nurse his wounded pride. All’s fine. I’m a big girl, you know?” He remained silent for a bit longer and she waited patiently. He didn’t have much of a poker face, so she could almost see his inner conflict. Ace was a good guy – no, a great guy – and even though the Spade pirates didn’t exist any longer, he still felt as though he needed to protect them all as their captain. Plus, the whole all-male-fighting-crew-thing Pops had going on really didn’t help.Before she could catch herself, she reached out and tugged on one of the soft, black bangs that had fallen into his face. Ripped from his thoughts, he looked at her and finally sighed. “I could have punched him for you.”She smiled at him, tugging the bang behind his ear and then quickly drawing her hand back. How did he manage to have such soft hair? Her fingers itched to be buried in those black locks, drawing him closer to her. “I know. If I ever need some extra punching to be done, I’ll invite you.” “I’m not saying you can’t do it, you know.” Ace looked at her intently and she noticed some flames erupting from his arms, almost unnoticeable to the naked eye. He hadn’t move since she touched him. “I know you’re strong. Definitely stronger than those wannabes. I’m just saying, you shouldn’t have to deal with that. Marco could-…” “Ace,” she interrupted him and he snapped his mouth shut. “If I couldn’t even handle something like that, I’d be totally embarrassed to call myself a pirate. I know all of you would sock somebody in the jaw for me, and I really appreciate it and should I ever need help with that, I’ll definitely let you know. And Marco. And Thatch. And Vista.” “But me first,” he demanded and she couldn’t help but laugh again. “You first,” she promised. He’d been the one to pick up the pieces of her, after all, all those years back. He’d been the one to take her out to the sea, the one to believe in her, and she’d never be able to thank him enough for that.They remained like that for a moment, just smiling at each other, and then he suddenly reached out and caught the hem of her light jacket, pulling her a step closer to him, almost making her stumble. Surprised, she didn’t even manage to bring up her hands in time, but reflexively dropped the book she had still grasped, and before she knew it, her cheek was against his neck, his arms wrapped around her tightly.His skin was hot, the muscles under her hard. Comforting, reassuring. She allowed herself to close her eyes and just enjoy this for a moment, this warm embrace that felt like home, the smell of a crackling fire and the storm of butterflies in her stomach. Saki knew this was bad. She never got her defenses up quick enough when he did something like that, and just kept slipping deeper into this thing she had for him. Infatuation. Complete and hopeless infatuation. As one-sided as it was, and as much as it stung, she had to salvage moments like these. “Promise?” he murmured against the crown of her head. She had no idea what had brought this on. Since being in different divisions, she wasn’t any longer privy to the every happenings around him, and while he did seek her out almost as often as she him, the times he’d hugged her she could count on one hand. Somehow, he seemed fragile right now. She brought her arms up around him, squeezing him tightly and smiled against his chest, hoping he’d feel it. “Always.” At her answer, he squeezed back, and then slowly let her go and stepped back. She felt the acute loss of warmth and wished it had lasted a bit longer. What she didn’t know about was the reluctance with which he did so. “I gotta go now. I need to talk to Pops.” He sounded somewhat hesitant and quickly bent to pick up her book, quietly apologizing for making her drop it and straightening out the bent pages. He wouldn’t meet her eyes all of a sudden.“Tomorrow, can we talk?” he asked and handed her the book. Somehow, their conversation got more and more confusing for her. This had turned out to be an unexpected roller-coaster. Something definitely was up with him. “Sure, you can always find me if you need to talk. Is everything okay?” She cocked her head to the side, but he still didn’t look at her, and just grinned, turned to walk away. “I’ll tell you tomorrow!” he said and waved at her without looking back. Shaking her head, she tried to straighten the pages of the book and winced when she saw a little burn on the cover page. Oh no, and she’d taken such good care up until now… She shouldn’t have let him touch it. Just when she turned to bring it back to the library herself, she heard him shout her name and turned around. “Definitely too bumpy for a wall!” he shouted once he was sure she was listening. Across the whole deck. Loud and clear. Making several other crew members turn in confusion, who had undoubtedly already been confused enough by their sudden hug. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and quickly turned to stalk to the library.

[maryjancwatson]

IC PORTION; BASICS —

CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS: Mary Jane Watson

FACECLAIM: Madelaine Petsch

AFFILIATIONS: At the moment, unaffiliated. 

AGE (physical age as well, if different): 24

SPECIES (human, metahuman, alien, etc): Human

IS YOUR CHARACTER’S IDENTITY SECRET OR PUBLIC? N/A

IF SECRET, OR YOUR CHARACTER IS A CIVILIAN, DO THEY HAVE A CIVILIAN OCCUPATION?: Mary Jane very recently snagged a job at the UN in Sokovia as their Goodwill Ambassador. Mary Jane is also working with a local charity, both in relief work and working to raise funds independently due to her following on social media platforms.

IF YOUR CHARACTER LIVES IN THE FORTRESS, WHAT ARE THEIR DUTIES? : Maybe one day she will return to being Tony Stark’s coffee bitch.

DESCRIBE SIX TRAITS (3 positive, 3 negative) YOUR CHARACTER HAS AND HOW THESE AFFECT THEM: + Passionate: Anyone that meets Mary Jane knows that she has passion, as it’s clear within the first five minutes of talking to her. She’s passionate about everything: coffee preferences, movies vs. books debates, and in particular, Broadway shows. It goes deeper than that, though, and that becomes clear in knowing her better. Mary Jane practically bleeds for things that she believes in. She gives 110% into everything she does, and it shows. + Adaptable: Mary Jane grew up in an ever-changing environment, and it turned her into a person that can roll with the punches. She’s able to adapt to situations quickly, and is able to think on her feet. She can stay relatively unphased with change and adapt accordingly. + Charismatic: Mary Jane is a people person. She spent so much of her childhood and adolescence moving around that she had to learn how to socialize quickly, and it made Mary Jane into a social butterfly. She knows how to talk to people, knows how to make small talk and easily does the back-and-forth with just about anyone. - Hot-headed: There is no way around it: Mary Jane Watson has a temper. She goes from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye, and sometimes struggles coming back down to 0. It’s not easy to light the flame under her and set her alight, and it’s something she’s been working on since childhood. Even on the rare occasions where she does manage to keep a lid of the explosions, her facial expressions give it all away. - Commitment-phobic / flighty: Mary Jane doesn’t like to stick to one thing or one place for long, and sometimes has trouble sticking to things. While she gives 100% in passion, sometimes it’s a solid 60% in commitment. She dropped out of college, almost dropped out of high school a few times before that, and never signs more than a six months lease. Most of her romantic relationships have ended poorly because Mary Jane never knows what Mary Jane wants, and she starts to feel claustrophobic when things get tough. This is more on a personal level. Professionally, she sticks to her guns a little more. - Selfish: Mary Jane is always looking out for Mary Jane. She’s trying to do better, but her bottom instinct is always to do what’s best for herself. She’s scrappy, as one needs to be in the showbiz world, but it impacts her personal relationships as well.

POWERS AND/OR ABILITIES: Mary Jane is very human, and possesses no super-human abilities. However, she’s semi-famous with a solid social media following! (if only that were a super power) MJ is charismatic and highly organized, and has a leadership quality to her. She enjoys organization and administrative-type tasks, and is a go-getter to get shit done.

WEAKNESSES: Again, MJ is definitely human. I would say her strongest weaknesses are her fear of commitment and her tendencies to be selfish, as this only gets in her own way of what she wants. Mary Jane is also a chronic over-thinker, and can think herself into a box at times.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? MJ is a spitfire and my spirit animal. She’s feisty and fiery and I love how she’s always unapologetically herself, even when it shoots her in the foot. She’s not the traditional-type character to bring to Sokovia considering she is very much a civilian, but I think her personality can definitely bring some fun.

IC PORTION; DETAILS —

WHAT BROUGHT YOUR CHARACTER TO SOKOVIA? It’s a little complicated. She applied for a job at the UN in Sokovia to be their Goodwill Ambassador, and somehow someway she’d gotten through the first several rounds of interviews. She had gotten a job with a charity working out of Sokovia for the moment as well, as a back-up just in case they went with someone else. But, surprisingly enough (or so it felt to her), she’d gotten the job. The charity work and the Goodwill Ambassador job went hand in hand, and MJ found that it was more joy-bringing than she’d thought it would be.

DID THEY SIGN THE ACCORDS? WHY OR WHY NOT? This isn’t exactly applicable, considering Mary Jane is most definitely a citizen, however she would certainly not have if she was on the other side. 

PROVIDE 3-5 HEADCANONS RELATED TO YOUR CHARACTER: MJ is a chain smoker. She’s tried to quit, though those have only ever been passive attempts at best. She does not do well when she’s off her nicotine. She’s also a fan of the other kind of mary jane, if you catch my vibe. MJ blogs, has a YouTube channel, and practically lives on TikTok. She’s verified on her social media platforms, and has a pretty big following. She still has fans from her Broadway runs and from her short-lived fame on Netflix, and so she does her best to stay relevant and keep them despite her current break from acting. The term ‘social media empire’ comes to mind, even if she feels weird about her claim to fame. MJ lives in high heels and generally dresses nicely. She has a very firm belief that first impressions matter most but all impressions matter. She always wants to look like hell on wheels, even if it’s impractical at times. She usually saves jeans and t-shirts for time at home only, and even then finds herself more comfortable in a dress. Despite having a party girl persona and having dropped out of college, Mary Jane is intelligent. She excelled in history and English courses in high school and in college alike, though her passion was in performing. She’s obsessed with trivia games and trivia-type TV shows. Wheel of Fortune is absolutely her favorite. She’s also super fond of reality TV, the more mind-numbing the better.

POTENTIAL CHARACTER ARCS: Maybe a potential Iron Spider or Spinneret arc? I love civilian!MJ, but I think this would be interesting. This would be a little complicated and would require a lot of thought and plotting, but maybe down the line! IS THERE A THEATRE/DANCE PROGRAM IN SOKOVIA? BECAUSE MJ WOULD BE SO DOWN TO RUN ONE. TEACH LITTLE KIDS BALLET AND SHIT. GIVE HER THAT. Nomad-y things. MJ obviously wouldn’t be affiliated with the rebels from the jump, considering her position in the UN. However, she may gravitate towards at least a sympathizer down the road, considering her connections with Tony.

CHARACTER BIO —

Mary Jane was the second born child to Madeline and Phillip Watson, the first being her older sister Gayle. Her father was a professor, though changed jobs often, resulting in multiple moves throughout Mary Jane’s childhood. Her father wanted to be a writer, not a professor, though his books never succeeded. This led to anger that was often taken out on his family, usually while drunk. Mary Jane was in middle school when her mother decided that enough was enough - her father had been turning on her mother for years, but he’d finally turned on one of the girls. The three left Phillip for good.

Unfortunately, the constant moving didn’t seem to stop. Mary Jane’s mother still moved them around often, usually to be near relatives. Her mother usually worked as a waitress or a bartender, relying on tips for income, which wasn’t always stable. Thankfully, her mother’s family was kind, and would help with the girls as much as they could. Her mother went back to school, deciding that she and her children deserved more. Mary Jane’s favorite relative to stay with was Aunt Anna, who lived in Queens.

The frequent moves caused Mary Jane to have a rather extroverted and fun-loving personality, a way to try to get noticed and make friends quickly. She knew she would never be in one place for long, so she tried to remain care-free. She never allowed herself to get too close, because she knew it would only be so long before she would be moving again. It was easier to have a lot of people she barely knew that were fun to be around than to have a few close friends she would have to say goodbye to.

She was fifteen when her mother got sick, and things went downhill quickly. Mary Jane watched her mother wither away before her eyes, and vowed in that moment to never take life for granted and grab it by the horns. After her mother passed, Mary Jane refused to move back in with her alcoholic father. Part of her blamed him for robbing Mary Jane and her sister of quality years with their mother, and memories of the abuse were still fresh. Instead, she went back to the home where she’d always been the happiest - Mary Jane moved in with her Aunt Anna in Queens.

Her life of the party attitude and fun/over-the-top personality quickly gained her friends in school, though Mary Jane still had trouble letting people in. she knew she wouldn’t be moving again this time, but it was somehow easier for her to have her walls up. People liked her, she liked them, and she told herself that was enough. It wasn’t, really, though it was all she knew how to do. She participated in the drama club and the choirs at school, as well as in community theatre.  This was where she made her true friends, where she made real connections that actually meant something. She had Broadway aspirations and spotlights in her eyes, and worked hard to perfect her craft. However, later in high school she found she had to put some productions on the back burner to get a job to help support the household she was living in. She mostly did waitressing jobs, though found a few assistant/secretary type positions to hold down as well after school.

Mary Jane was accepted into NYU’s musical theatre program at Tisch, and starred in many of their productions. However, she learned that in the real world, auditions were hard to secure and she found obtaining roles was even more difficult. She’d been praised so heavily in high school and during her time at Tisch that this was a harsh slap to the face, though she didn’t give up. She worked at Ellen’s Starlight Diner while in school, and was cast in the off-Broadway production of Heathers as an ensemble role and an understudy to Heather Chandler. Shortly after, she was finally cast in a Broadway production. She was cast as an ensemble part in American Idiot, and she’d never been happier.

After securing her first role, Mary Jane’s name slowly made its way around. She dropped out of school after a lot of consideration, deciding to devote her full attention to work. Her second show was Wicked, another ensemble role though she became Elphaba’s understudy after a few months. She left for the Spring Awakening tour, where she was cast as Wendla.

When the tour ended, Mary Jane experienced a huge wave of auditions due to praise she’d gotten from critics. She landed her first TV role, the main character for a show on a Netflix YA murder-mystery series. Unfortunately, as things went in that genre, she found her character killed off at the finale in the first season. She was brought back to film some flashback type scenes for season two, and then her contract was completed. The rise to fame was quick and unforgiving - MJ went from near constant press and finally feeling like she was making it to nothing. She returned to New York and experienced a drought in auditions, which many actors face. While she knew that, it was a hard pill to swallow after success, and she didn’t want to go back to the diner. An opportunity arose (mostly thanks to her sister’s husband, who worked for Stark Industries and brought up her name and vouched for her) and Mary Jane found herself working for Stark Industries. She was the personal assistant to Tony Stark, and MJ found that she and F.R.I.D.A.Y. worked well together and that she didn’t hate administrative work. It wasn’t acting, but it was a job, and Mary Jane was more than competent in the role. She proved to be organized and efficient, and MJ liked it more than a little. However, before long, the events of Sokovia transpired and MJ found herself without a job. To be fair, she’d quit, finding herself unable to work for Simon Trask and deciding that she’d rather find other opportunities elsewhere.  She’d snagged a role in an off-Broadway production she wasn’t really feeling, and found herself applying for other positions, surprisingly in charity work and using her time at Stark Industries as a reference. She loved performing, would always be an actress at her core, but she found herself searching for something more meaningful. Her time away from film or stage had made her think more clearly on what she wanted in life, and she couldn’t help but feel like she needed more. She snagged a job for a charity in Sokovia, which Mary Jane only really knew about due to the press that had been drawn in after the events that transpired with the Avengers and with the Sokovia Accords. She found herself in the last round of interviews for a job at the UN in Sokovia as the Goodwill Ambassador (she was the right kind of famous, is what they said), and with the charity job already secured, Mary Jane was booking her ticket. 

EXTRAS —

MYERS-BRIGGS: ENFP Sin: Greed & Pride HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin ZODIAC: Scorpio

[artificialqueens]

The Goode Case, 12/14 (Jaida/Jan) - Juno

Chapter Summary: It hasn’t been a good Tuesday so far for Jaida. With Brita and Jackie seemingly out of the picture, will she be able to help Gigi and Jan?

(A/N: Phew, this chapter was an absolute monster to re-edit, and it’s huge. But we’re now at part twelve! I hope you enjoy this. Thank you for all your support!)

4.12PM

Jaida groaned as she felt herself coming to on the dusty floor, her head still spinning from the fifteen foot drop, sprawled across the floorboards. She lay on her back on the ground for the time being, feeling the dust beneath her fingertips, letting her equilibrium catch back up and the room stop spinning around her.

“What was that noise?” Rock’s voice seemed far away. But it was definitely Rock.

Jaida let her eyes open and adjust to the half-light, taking in the underneath of the staircase, the light from the large window at the top of the staircase dappling the floorboards around her.

It seemed unbelievable that she’d survived the fall unhurt, but she took time to focus over each part of her body, moving anything she could think of, and she seemed to have come out miraculously lucky; no major injuries, nothing numb or broken. She was completely unscathed.

Leaning on her elbows, she slowly rolled herself sideways on the floor, towards a body a couple of feet away, which looked like it was –

A body.

Hardly daring to believe it, Jaida scrambled to her hands and knees, leaning over the figure next to her, she could see who it was.

“Gigi!”

She’d done it.

Gigi was breathing; still unconscious, but her chest rising and falling.

She thought to Thomas’ final action: dragging her off the top floor, to right here, something that might have – might have killed her. It was becoming clearer now. Had he pulled her and Gigi back from his plane, and back to her own physical one, by doing so? Had he saved them?

Thomas had gone, and Jaida knew, somehow, that he’d never be back. Pulling her over the railings had been his final act. He hadn’t been able to save Merle, or himself, from Michelle in life; but he’d now saved Gigi by helping Jaida. He was free.

And she was back, in the twenty-first century, her friends around her. Maybe minus Jackie and Brita, for now, but still … she and Gigi Goode were back.

The heavy plodding footsteps coming down the stairs were Rock’s, and in a flash of blue hair Rock flung herself onto Gigi’s body, ignoring Jaida completely, and gently rolled Gigi onto her side, into the recovery position.

“You’re welcome,” Jaida shook her head, exasperated.

“Is it Gigi?” Dahlia called from up the stairs.

“I think so! What did Jaida say she looked like?”

“It is her, damnit!” Jaida shouted. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“Crystal?” Dahlia called. “Can you see if that’s Gigi?”

From the main room came Crystal, who rushed past Jaida to sprawl over Gigi’s body.

“Yes! It’s Gigi! Oh my God!”

“Gigi?” Came another voice from the main area, and Jaida turned to see Jackie, looking dazed, but seeming to have snapped out of the trance she’d been in. “It’s her! She’s done it!”

“But then, why is Jaida …?” Dahlia let the sentence hang.

“I’m right here!” Jaida folded her arms. “And you’re still welcome, by the way!”

“She’s – she’s here!” Crystal pointed to Jaida, but Rock and Jackie both looked around her, confused.

Oh, God.

Jackie’s gasp as she realised was proof enough.

“Am I a spirit now?” Jaida snorted, folding her arms. “Because that’s the last thing I need.”

“Jaida’s down here, in spirit form,” Crystal called to the others. “And she looks pissed off.”

“You’re damn right I’m pissed off! Can you even fucking hear me?”

“Thank God she’s alright! I was worried for a second!” That was Dahlia’s relieved voice. “Just when we heard that bump, she had a kind of spasm or something next to me, and she’s still not back to normal!”

“You – you actually can’t hear me,” Jaida muttered, realising. “None of you can hear me. This isn’t some sick joke.”

Fearing the worst, she walked slowly to the bottom of the staircase, looking to the top.

The sight made her shudder.

Dahlia was shaking Jaida’s own hand, her own physical hand, while Jaida’s physical body lolled to the side, to Dahlia’s shoulder, unconscious.

Jaida winced, feeling like she was going to be sick. Pain flashed through her gut, and she bent double, one hand on the bannister to retch.

Was this projection? How had this happened? Jaida didn’t know how to! So why was she now here, outside her own body?

“Is Jaida – did you say she’s down here?” Jackie asked. “Can you ask her is she can think of something, if I can hear her?”

“I’m not deaf, Jackie!” Jaida yelled, but Crystal turned towards her, breathing rapidly, and repeated Jackie’s words.

“Can – you – think – for – Jackie?”

Jaida rolled her eyes.

Jackie. You owe me big time.

“Oh – oh yeah, I can definitely hear her.” Jackie nodded. “Jai – are you going back to your body?”

Damn right I am!

“How do we get her back in her body? Oh, wait, she’s moving up the stairs now,” Crystal called, watching as Jaida strode away from her.

But Michelle materialised suddenly at the top of the stairs, blocking Dahlia and Jaida’s own body from view. Her face was enraged.

“I don’t think so,” Jaida heard Michelle say. “You may have persuaded him to sacrifice himself, but don’t expect me to go anywhere.”

Jaida immediately turned her face away from Michelle and ran down the two or three steps she’d already climbed, past Crystal and Jackie and into the main room. Crystal watched her go, seemingly unable to hear her or Michelle.

“Is she near me now?” Dahlia called from the stairs.

“No – Michelle’s there, moving towards you – Rock, are you sure Dahlia and Jaida are protected in that circle?” Crystal turned to Rock.

“Yes – she won’t get past the amber on the ground,” Rock replied from next to Gigi. “But help Brita! And don’t look at Michelle for too long, for God’s sake!”

Brita?

Jaida looked around the main room, feeling a rush of relief at the sight.

Brita was sat on the floor, her back leaning against the wall, only about a foot away from Jaida, groaning and putting a hand on her forehead. Although she looked utterly exhausted, at least she didn’t have Michelle attached to her – Michelle was roaming the stairs, turning back from Dahlia and coming down them again, towards Jaida.

Jackie ran right through Jaida to see to Brita.

“Michelle could be back at any moment for you! You need to tell me if you feel her trying to attach to you again. Straight away.”

“Sure, sure Jackie – thanks. Oh, God,” Brita muttered.

With a start, Brita tried to stand, but Jackie shook her head.

“No, stay here for a minute longer.”

“But –“

“I don’t think you can help her right now, Brita.”

Brita was pointing to the opposite wall. Aiden was there, sat upright against the wall, but completely motionless, her eyes open but vacant, not seeing anything. Her glasses lay on the floor by her feet, seemingly forgotten, glinting in the dying daylight.

Crystal bounded through the doorway and came to sit against the wall with Aiden. She waved a tentative hand in front of her face, but there was no reaction. “She’s still not responding?”

“No. And I can’t hear any thoughts from her at all. Just a tune.”

“A tune,” Crystal nodded, worry creeping into her face. She picked up Aiden’s nearest hand and ran a fingernail down her palm, to no response at all. “She hates this. It’s ticklish for her. She hates being tickled.”

“We just need to keep an eye on her, and make sure Michelle doesn’t come back for her,” Jackie muttered darkly.

But Michelle was at the at the doorway now, a half-smile on her face.

Jackie! It’s Michelle!

“What! Where?” Jackie leapt to her feet and turned a full circle.

Crystal dropped Aiden’s hand and pointed behind Jaida; not to Michelle, but to the entrance to the kitchen.

Jaida turned in time to see it before it happened.

The woman from the kitchen fire – Merle, Thomas had called her – stood right behind her; Jaida met her cloudy, white eyes and froze with terror.

Merle grabbed Jaida’s shoulder, and Jaida heard Crystal’s shriek as the same familiar hook at her back happened again, as with Thomas; the world around her melting, she was wrenched away from them again, the nausea filling her up as she screwed her eyes tightly shut …

———

The hotel was in its same glory; but this time, the noise was deafening. Fire was ripping through the kitchen, the sound of roaring, flickering flames louder than Jaida could have expected, and Merle – a live Merle, with hazel eyes and light-brown hair – had a hand on her shoulder, speechless with horror.

Through the flames in the kitchen, behind Merle, right up against the window, Jaida saw a figure, unconscious on the ground. She recognised the long blonde hair straight away.

It was Jan.

Jaida wasted no time. She grabbed Merle’s hand from her shoulder and ran straight to the kitchen door, but Merle was hesitant to pass, timidly shaking her head.

“No way! We’re not leaving Jan in there, are you crazy?” Jaida shrieked, frantically tugging Merle along with her, who seemed too frightened to argue.

Jan was over by the window, which was slightly open, letting air in to fuel the flames. The large open hob was the source of the fire, from what Jaida could see, it having lit up the net curtains and blinds on the window which were falling in embers to the ground and to the workbenches, starting to catch light as well.

“Come on!” Jaida yelled.

Merle was still resistant, panic etched in her face.

“Merle, I’ve just met your brother. You need to do this! To free yourself! You don’t wanna stay here, reliving this, do you?”

But Merle quivered in fear.

“I’m not leaving Jan here, no ma’am, so you’re going to help me too!” Jaida dove into the kitchen through the rising flames.

“Jaida? Not afraid you’ll burn?” Michelle materialised at the kitchen door behind them, her voice with the same soothing quality back in it; but this time, Jaida didn’t even feel tempted to look at her. Her only thought was Jan.

Adrenaline pulsed through her, overtaking any fear she’d felt. Jaida weaved around the workbenches towards Jan at the window. With her free hand, she turned Jan’s shoulder towards her. Jan was thankfully unhurt; breathing, but unresponsive to Jaida’s touch.

Jaida felt herself choking with the smoke, the workbench in front of her smouldering. The fumes from the fire could consume them at any moment. Jaida could still drag Jan with her free hand, but it was much harder than with Gigi.

“Merle, please! Help me lift her! I can’t do this without you!”

Jan was much shorter than Gigi, but far more muscular, and heavier as a consequence. Jaida managed to get her to a seated position, but couldn’t lift her alone. The flames licked higher, casting dizzying, ever changing shadows across the walls, starting to surround them all.

Merle tried to help Jaida position Jan so Jaida could lift her over her shoulder, like Gigi, but was stopped in an instant by the footsteps, coming through the fire towards them both.

“Merle,” came Michelle’s voice, a far sterner, more authoritative tone. “Merle, let Jaida go. Drop her.”

Jaida saw Merle turn around to face Michelle, and start to loosen her grip.

Jaida seized her tighter. “Don’t! This will help you too! Do you want to be free of – of repeating this forever?”

Merle looked from Jaida, to Michelle, to the blinds and net curtains above them at the window, the flames engulfing them fully now.

“Merle –“ Jaida nodded at her. “Yes! Come on!”

The whole oven flickered with flames, workbenches sparked alight all around them. The noise from the fire was deafening, the acrid fumes overwhelming, but Merle was motionless, paralysed by her terror. Jaida felt tears smart in her eyes, from the heat, from the adrenaline fading to panic, to despair …

“Jaida!” Michelle’s forceful tone caught Jaida off guard, and prompted Jaida to meet her eyes.

“Let. Them. Go.”

Jaida was too weak to fight this time; her thoughts dissolved around her, she struggled to stay in the room, but her mind was being enveloped in a soothing melody, and she found herself unable to focus on anything else, her limbs feeling so unbearably heavy …

The heat searing at her skin jolted her out of this trance, as reality flooded back to her, and she realised from the screams that Merle had finally reached up and pulled the fiery blinds from the windows onto them. Jaida shrieked as she felt white hot pain; the crochet line on her wrist, connecting her to Dahlia, burned away; and she herself fading into blackness, just squeezing Merle’s hand, pulling Jan’s unconscious form tightly to her chest, praying this was it –

———

“Oh shit! Oh, this – this is fucking b-bad!”

Jaida could hear Dahlia, but she was so far away.

She felt like she was trapped in a nightmare, her mind replaying images of the fire. But she was safe, back from that plane. Somehow, miraculously unhurt again.

The dimming light of day flooded into the kitchen from the boarded-up window. Out of the corner of Jaida’s eye, only a foot or so away from her, she saw Jan’s dishevelled blonde hair, white sneakers; and internally sighed with relief.

Thank God. Jan’s here.

“Jai! Can you hear us! Please!” That was Brita, her voice still a little weak.

I’m here. Kitchen. Jackie!

Jackie skidded into the kitchen first, followed by Crystal, and Brita lagged behind them both, leaning on the doorframe, still very weak herself.

“Is that – Jan?” Jackie ran to her and turned her into the recovery position, like Rock had with Gigi earlier. “I think we’ll need an ambulance!”

“Oh God,” Brita put her face in her hands. “What the hell did Michelle make me do?”

“Jaida!” Crystal, the only person who could see her, was staring right at her, grinning.

“Is Jaida here?” Brita asked.

Crystal nodded, and pointed to where Jaida lay. “Jaida – can – you – hear – me?”

Jackie. Tell Crystal I’m not fucking deaf.

Jackie squeaked with joy.

“Jai, I’ve never been more happy to hear you!” Jackie wiped away tears from her face as she spoke. “Can you get back to your body? Dahlia was shouting, I think she’s worried that something happened!”

Jaida stood, moving past Brita and Crystal; passing Rock and a slowly rousing Gigi in the hallway; and climbed the staircase, this time completely empty of anyone, shivering when she saw her own body. Dahlia was gulping back sobs, one hand still intertwined with Jaida’s, the other scrabbling at the ground between them, pulling up the remains of the crochet line, still smouldering.

The nearer Jaida got, the more of a pull she felt in her diaphragm, not really pain, but a kind of pleasant ache; until she finally let herself go, and as she did, felt herself drift back into her body, as if drawn by a magnet.

She felt herself gasp, a solid sound and pull at her rib cage. There she was, on the floor, one hand clasped in Dahlia’s, finally feeling the pain on her skin from the burn around her wrist, where the crochet loop had vanished, embers on the ground their only remnant.

She could feel her heartbeat, her pulse. She felt her lungs working hard and her blood pounding. She could feel Dahlia’s solid hand, damp with sweat, she could feel Dahlia’s fear, as much as her own relief.

It was the sweetest feeling, to be alive.

“Dahlia,” Jaida tested her voice, finding it hoarse, and Dahlia’s face flooded with joy as she hugged Jaida.

“Oh God, I was f-fucking scared there! When the tether burned away, I – I thought we’d lost you!”

Dahlia pulled back and slapped Jaida on the arm. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, bitch!”

“I’ll try!” Jaida found strength to chuckle at Dahlia’s words.

Dahlia stood, dusting herself down, and helped Jaida to her feet, and together they made their way down the stairs carefully, joining Rock, still with Gigi. Gigi was starting to twist from her position and groan at the back of her throat, slowly regaining consciousness.

“Jaida!” Brita had appeared from the kitchen and Jaida was engulfed in a tight hug, Jaida still feeling her mind race still with confusion.

“Brita, you’re you again!”

“Yeah she is, Jai,” Dahlia nodded; Brita, a little too overcome to speak, kept her arms wrapped around Jaida, refusing to let go of her.

“How did you guys do that?” Jaida asked

“She just – left me,” Brita replied, finally relinquishing and pointing to the doorway of the main room. “She left me right there, not that long ago, not even five, ten minutes. But I don’t know why!”

“I get it,” Jaida said, “she had to leave you to get to me, because I’d already found Gigi. And then she came after me again when Merle took me to find Jan.”

“Did she entrance you?”

“Almost.” Jaida shuddered.

“And then what?”

“I got – I got pulled back into this plane.”

“You got pulled over the railing the first time,” Rock pointed upwards. “You must have done if Gigi’s down here, and that pulled you out your body as your body was tethered to Dahlia!”

“But – I don’t project!” Jaida objected.

“The fall forced you to.” Dahlia shrugged. “I told you, most people learn it, rather than are born with it. Thomas’ fall would have made you do it, because you were tethered to me, at the top of the stairs.”

“You guys both need to read the book!” Rock scolded.

Brita looked confused. “What book?”

“Anyway, I think that Thomas and Merle are gone for good now,” Jaida sighed. “They helped me survive, even though they couldn’t save themselves. I think – I think that was what they needed to do, to leave that plane. To stop Michelle doing this again.”

“Wait, who’s Merle?” Dahlia asked.

“She’s the spirit who was in the kitchen. And Thomas was the guy on the stairs. The one I saw yesterday morning, too.”

“So – where’s Michelle now, if she left Brita?” Rock asked

From upstairs, one of the double doors slammed.

“I guess that answers that,” Dahlia muttered. “She still could be back though. Be on your guard.”

“And Brita, tell us if you start feeling like someone’s reading your damn mind!” Jaida nudged Brita, who nodded sombrely, linking arms with Jaida.

At Rock’s feet, Gigi was starting to move slowly, still groaning.

“Gigi?” Brita looked over at her, clearly starting to regain consciousness. “She needs an ambulance.”

Jaida pulled her phone from her pocket, and punched the speed dial number on her phone, which went straight to the hospital. “They’ll be here in no time. Ten minutes or so.”

“Gigi? Geeg?” At the sound of her name from Brita, Crystal careered round the corner and slid to her knees before her girlfriend.

Gigi’s eyelids were fluttering at her voice.

“Thank God!” Crystal yelled, flinging herself onto Gigi, who was starting to move her arms, adjust herself, weakly raise her head from the ground.

“Crys,” Gigi managed to croak, “where the heck - ?”

She slowly raised herself up, tried to sit up, and Crystal held a hand at her back to support her.

“Take your time – that’s it –“

Jaida took a step back from them, to move through the main lobby area to the kitchen, followed by Rock and Dahlia. Jackie was still knelt over Jan, wiping her forehead with a tissue, trying to rouse her.

“Jackie,” Jaida gulped, “is she alright?”

“She will be, I think,” Jackie whispered, still wiping stray tears from her cheeks. “She doesn’t seem to have anything attached to her. She’ll be fine, once she’s conscious, anyway.”

“I have salts,” Dahlia announced, pulling them from her pocket. “Not much, but if she’s otherwise unhurt and with no attachments, she should come round pretty fast with these. This concoction and the lavender oil should sort her out.”

“It’s worth a try,” Jackie agreed, as Dahlia unscrewed the top of the tiny bottle, placing some of the mixture onto a tissue.

“That just leaves Aiden,” Rock sighed, motioning behind them. Through the kitchen doorway they could see Aiden was in the same position as she’d been left earlier. Brita had moved over to her from the hallway, and was gently setting Aiden’s glasses back on her face.

Dahlia bent over Jan with the salts, while Jaida grudgingly left her and followed Jackie and Rock to the main room. Gigi was walking slowly, supported by Crystal, to sit at the wall opposite Brita and Aiden. Gigi laid her head in Crystal’s lap and closed her eyes, seemingly still exhausted.

“What exactly happened to Aiden?” Jaida asked.

Jackie held up her palm. “I think she brought me back. I remember hearing this tune in my head, and then her pressing my hand with her thumb, and it fading.”

“She healed you!” Rock’s face was struck with a moment of clarity. “Now I get it. I thought she had something like that! That’s why you couldn’t hear her thoughts, Jackie; healers tend to actively conceal them, otherwise they tend to get taken advantage of. Healing people can really drain them; I knew one back in San Fran, she’d need to sleep for a whole day if she healed someone.”

Jackie nodded. “So I came out of the trance, then Brita, no Michelle, grabbed her. And Aiden wouldn’t let her go. But then Michelle left Brita, and Aiden’s still …”

“It’s my fault.” Brita looked hopeless, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“It’s not your fault! I knew she’d do this, ever since she healed you on Sunday night!” Crystal said, stroking Gigi’s head. “I told her not to, on the bus on the way here, it always tires her out – but she just gets emotional, and then she tries to save everyone.”

“She gets emotional?” Jaida muttered incredulously.

“Well, yeah,” Crystal shrugged. “She does, I swear! She healed me on Friday night.”

“Why didn’t she just tell me she healed people when I asked her yesterday?” Jaida asked.

Crystal shrugged. “She’s a bit shy.”

Jackie anxiously pushed back her fringe. “I can’t hear anything from her except that tune. It’s very eerie.”

“Hold up,” Jaida paused, frowning at Jackie. “I thought you said you couldn’t hear Aiden at all?”

“Well, I couldn’t before, but I can now … I think she’s opened up her thoughts when she healed me. Whether she meant to or not.”

Rock sighed. “If it’s just a trance – and I think that’s all it is – she should just come out of it on her own eventually, if we can get her out the house. But, I mean, that’s the worst case scenario! I’m not suggesting we just leave her alone!” Rock shook her head at their shocked stares.

“What’s Plan B?” Brita asked.

“Well … she might be able to heal herself from someone she’s already healed. Maybe. Most healers form some connection with people they heal.”

“Please,” Jackie muttered, “I can’t deal with any more connections.”

Dahlia appeared at the door of the kitchen, supporting Jan, who looked confusedly round at everyone, her eyes freezing on Jaida. Jaida’s chest constricted. Jan’s face was panic-stricken, her mouth opening and closing, lost for words.

“Jan.” Jaida stood, approaching her slowly, wondering what Jan was making of this crowd. Her eyes widened as Jaida came closer, shrinking away, out from under Dahlia’s arm.

“Brita said – you had a surprise, and then …” Jan shook her head in wonder, her eyes horrified. “What the hellis happening?”

“I think we will need some time to explain it,” Jaida said, raising her hands.

Brita rose and walked cautiously to Jan, who shrank still further. She hugged Jan, as gently as she could, but Jan let her hands hang limp as she did so, not even trying to reciprocate. When Brita let her go, Jan searched her face for some sort of explanation, but Brita was silent, Jaida realising that Brita probably didn’t recall very much at all.

Brita eventually shook her head sadly, her voice quaking as she spoke.

“I’m sorry, Jan. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t get this,” Jan breathed, shuddering. “What kind of prank are you guys pulling on me? Do you think this is funny?”

“No –“

“Jan!”

But Jan ducked away from Brita’s outstretched arms and sprinted out the door, past everyone. Jaida ran to the doorway, but Jan was already ducking under the hazard tape and sprinting into the street to get away.

Watching Jan run from her, her horrified expression imprinted in her brain, made Jaida’s chest clench in agony.

She leaned against the doorframe, not even trying to stop the tears, the pain from the sobs she’d held in her lungs all day too much to bear. Her body drained of all energy and she sank to her knees, unable to hold herself up any longer.

After an eternity, Jackie’s warm hand found her shoulder, and Jaida felt herself being drawn to Jackie’s chest, resting her head there. Unable to speak, Jaida let the tears fall, feeling the last of her strength unravel as Jackie just silently held her together.

“Jai,” Jackie whispered eventually, but Jaida couldn’t form words. “Jai, it’s – we’ll – let’s give her a bit of time.”

Suddenly, from inside, Aiden coughed; out of the corner of her eye Jaida saw that Brita had returned to sit with her, and was grasping Aiden’s thumb to her own palm, as Aiden had done on Sunday night. Aiden blinked confusedly around at them all, then down at her hand in Brita’s.

One of the chandeliers in the upstairs suddenly fell to the ground in the hallway, and they heard double doors upstairs, of their own accord, slam once again. The whole house seemed to shudder around them, Jackie pulling Jaida tighter into her; the ground vibrating around them, the doorframe shaking.

Then an odd calm settled in the house.

Jaida lifted her head, to the sound of the approaching ambulance sirens, coming towards the house, less than a minute away.

From inside, Aiden asked, “What have I missed?”

4.58PM

“SAGE! Right now!” Rock flicked Dahlia’s lighter at the sage until it was burning again, smoke starting to plume, before waving it around Brita in what Jaida was sure was an intricate pattern, while Brita stood perfectly still, looking more scared now than before. Jackie looked just as unsure, next to her, but Rock was not prepared to argue with either of them.

“Look, you’ve had an attachment, and you’ve been put in a trance by a the same attachment, okay? You’re both getting this whether you like it or not. Better to be safe than sorry.”

“What about Aiden?” Brita pointed to her, laying on the grass.

“She’ll be getting the sage last, when she’s recovered a little. Don’t worry, she’s not getting away either!”

When the ambulance had arrived some ten minutes earlier, Gigi had insisted she had started to feel better, she didn’t need hospital, until Jackie had pointed out that it was now Tuesday, and she had gone almost five days with no sustenance, even though Gigi had said it had only felt like a day or so at most.

“You’re going, and that’s final,” Crystal had told her sternly, pushing Gigi’s hair behind her ears. “Okay? I’ll come with you.”

Gigi’s eyes had softened as she’d planted a small kiss on Crystal’s lips. “Okay.”

Jackie had supported Crystal carrying Gigi to the ambulance, as they both got in; before darting back in to support Brita with Aiden. Aiden insisted on simply laying flat on her back in the grass of the overgrown garden, telling them that normally made her feel better faster. She was still there, her hands running over the grass beneath her, staring at the sky and starting to look a little perkier.

Jaida sat on the grass next to Aiden, and patiently watched as Rock moved around all of them with her bundle of sage, still paying Brita particular attention. Dahlia lit a cigarette at the gate, lost in her own thoughts.

The rain from yesterday had long gone, but the days were still drawing in, and Jaida’s eyes were drawn to the slow sunset behind the few clouds she could see. The shadows were lengthening slowly, day turning into evening before them.

Jaida’s phone was ringing, and she rolled her eyes at the number that came up.

“This is Hall.”

“Hall, this is Lake, What in God’s name has your case leader done to her phone, eaten it? She never picks up any more. We saw there was ambulance at the guest house, ten minutes ago. Is that to do with the Goode case?”

“Yes – Gigi has been found. She’s gone into hospital now for check up.”

“Did anyone think to update Forensics at all?” Darienne sighed. “Good for you. I’m going home. Tell Brita she owes me twodouble mochas.”

Jaida couldn’t help but grin as Darienne disconnected the call abruptly as ever.

She looked at Aiden, who was sitting up carefully, her expression surprisingly serene.

“Do you have any idea what’s happened since you came in the house?” Jaida asked, curiosity finally getting the best of her.

“No, but you all found Gigi, so …” Aiden gave a small shrug. “I’m sure someone will fill me in on the details later.”

[trashmagines]

I Took A Chance: Leah Clearwater x Female!Reader One-Shot

TrAshy Says: I love Leah and I’m not even sorry.

Warnings: None

One look was all it took; not even that.

A glance.

One glance at your gorgeous y/e/c eyes, and Leah felt it. The sensation of the ground crumbling beneath her; the feeling of the gravitational shift she’d heard so much about but never thought she’d experience. Yet here she was, frozen in place, staring at you like she was seeing the sun for the first time.

“Um, Leah? Here’s your change.” “How-how do you know my name?” “It’s written on your cup.”

The small laugh you give makes her heartbeat quicken, and she quickly takes the few coins from you then finds a seat next to one of the large front windows. She stays there a while, languidly sipping at her coffee and silently watching you out of the corner of her eye. It was too late and she was too far gone; she couldn’t leave you alone if she’d wanted to. 

When Leah arrives back at the reservation, she avoids the boys at all costs. She’d rejoined Sam’s pack after Jacob imprinted on Renesmee, deciding that she’d rather put up with Sam’s constant thoughts of Emily. Her mind is linked to the rest of the pack’s again, and she knows that they now know what happened. She’s not in the mood for Jared or Paul’s sly remarks and Sam’s questions; she still needs to figure out what she’s going to do.

It was a part of herself that Leah had hidden away, but even though she’d always known she wasn’t straight, she never imagined she’d imprint on another woman. Hell, she never thought she’d imprint at all. She had all but given up on the idea, resigning herself to the fact that she’d probably never experience the profoundness of the act. Now that she had, she was unsure of how to feel. She only knew that she wanted, no, needed to see you again. 

You notice that she only stops in on Saturdays, but she usually stays for hours on end. Her black hair frames her face nicely, and also offers a contrast to her tawny skin. You catch yourself staring more than once and hope that she never notices, not knowing that she’s doing the exact same thing. Sometimes you think about taking a break early to go and sit with her; maybe strike up a conversation just to see where it leads. You think about it, but you never do because she looks so peaceful and you’d rather not interrupt. That doesn’t stop you from wondering what she’s thinking about, though. 

Leah thinks about you a lot when she’s alone; she always stifles her thoughts when she’s around other members of the pack. When she finally stopped avoiding them is when the questions started, and eventually she snapped and told everyone to just leave it alone. She wasn’t sure how it would work in the grand scheme of things, but for the first time in a long time, she felt happier. She was no longer weighed down by the feeling of being left behind, and that alone was a welcome change. 

“You don’t even like coffee. It’s a coffee shop.” “I’m not going for the drinks, I’m going so I can meet your imprint!”

Seth had been hounding Leah for weeks about meeting you, which was ironic considering she still hadn’t met you, at least not formally. She knew your first name and that you worked in cafe in Port Angeles, but that was it. She had been thinking about asking you out today, but she did not want to do it in front of Seth. By no means was she a timid person, but she would be talking to her imprint and that fact alone was enough to make her nervous. Having Seth there would just up the chances of her possibly being embarrassed, and she also didn’t need a secondhand account of the event flowing through the rest of the pack’s minds. 

“I said no, Seth.” “If you don’t let me come, I’ll tell mom about those times you snuck out and left me home alone.” “You little- that was years ago!” “So? You really think you won’t still get in trouble?”

Leah’s irritated sigh is the only confirmation that Seth needs, a triumphant smirk situated on his face. 

The day is dragging by; you’ve stocked and cleaned and updated inventory just to keep busy. You’re wiping down the counter for the sixth time when the welcome bell above the door rings. Your coworker makes no move to man the register, too engrossed in their sleazy magazine to be bothered, so you make your way over to it and sign in. You’re halfway through your greeting when you look up and see her, Leah, you remember, standing there with a younger boy.

“Hey, I’m Seth!” “I’m Y/N; what can I get you? Would you like your usual, Leah?”

Leah’s heart skips a beat at the mention of her name, the only other person able to hear it being Seth, who’s grinning like an idiot. He gently bumps her with his shoulder to tell her to get on with it, and she stumbles a bit before responding. 

“Actually, Y/N, I wanted to know if you’d, maybe, like to.. go out sometime?” “If you don’t want to wait, my break lasts an hour.”

The smile on your face is brighter than any star Leah could point out, and she finds herself nodding quickly. You inform your uninterested coworker than you’re going on break, and Leah sends Seth on his way because she’s not going to let him listen in while you two get to know each other. You both sit at her usual table, sipping on coffee and munching on the pastries you brought over while chatting about nothing and everything. The hour flies by too fast for either of your liking, but you give her your number and tell her that you’d love to actually go out on a date with her. When Leah gets back to the reservation, she’s on cloud nine; not even Paul’s stupidity can bring her down. She calls you that night and you answer on the second ring. You resume your conversation like it never stopped and pick a day and time for your first official date.

“Shouldn’t you wear a dress or something?” “We’re just going to a movie, Seth; I’m not marrying her.” “Not yet.”

That remark causes heat to rise to Leah’s cheeks, but it fades rapidly as thoughts of the future take hold. You still didn’t know about Leah being a shapeshifter, or that she had imprinted on you. Though she didn’t want you to be involved with the supernatural, she had to at least tell you that much, and the thought of doing so scared her. She wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection, especially not after months of being with you. 

Everything that could have gone wrong on that first date had, and it’d ended with Leah being called away to deal with a bloodsucker that was getting too close to her home. The mishaps hadn’t deterred you, however, and you insisted on trying again. You’d both hung out so many times now that you lost count, and when you asked Leah to be your girlfriend, she almost started crying. You were definitely the one for her, but even though she’d gotten the okay from Sam, she still couldn’t bring herself to tell you the pack’s secret.

Until tonight.

“The ending was a little cliche; I still think she should have ended up with Tony.”

You were conversing about the movie you and Leah had just sat through, your melodic voice the only thing keeping Leah grounded. She knew what she was about to do would make or break everything, but it wasn’t fair to let you continue to fall for her without knowing all the facts. 

“Y/N, I have to tell you something.” “...Okay?” “Well, show and tell. Just let me explain and, uh, don’t freak out.” “You know, the minute you tell someone not to freak out is when they start freaking out. What’s up, Leah?”

It’s just you two surrounded by the darkness of the night; Leah had made sure to lead you a little ways away from the city so that she could phase without the risk of someone seeing her. According to your heartbeat you were on edge, and she couldn’t blame you because any sane person’s fight or flight response would be going haywire. 

“Y/N I can... I’m a.... I can turn into a wolf. It’s a special ability attributed to my tribe so that we can protect people from... Just know that we’re protectors. Anyway, there’s also something called imprinting, which is how wolves find their soulmate. I imprinted on you, Y/N, and I know how it sounds but that doesn’t mean that if I hadn’t we wouldn’t have ever gotten together, it just kind of lit a fire under my ass so that I could ask you out. But, since I know you don’t believe me, I’m going to show you.”

Leah takes several steps away from you; the last thing she’d ever want to do is hurt you while she phased. Before you can even get a word in, you notice her body start to tremble a split second before a giant beast erupts from her skin. 

A wolf. 

You drop your popcorn, frozen in place as Leah-wolf steps closer to you. She bows her head as a sign of surrender, and in the dead of night you can just make out the silver color of her fur. Your hand reaches out to pat her head, and the massive wolf’s entire body rumbles with a sigh. Holy shit, your girlfriend can turn into a wolf. 

Leah disappears behind the treeline, only to reappear a few minutes later wearing a completely different outfit. You’re still in shock, understandably, and when Leah tries to take your hand you step away from her. That tiny interaction causes a sharp pain to shoot through her heart, one that only gets worse when you speak. 

“So... you can turn into a wolf.” “Yeah.” “And you imprinted on me.” A pause. “Mhm.” “And imprinting is the way that wolves find their... soulmates.” “Yes, but Y/N-” “So I’m your soulmate; do I have any say in this matter?” “Of course-” “It doesn’t sound like it, Leah. If this is like, a predetermined thing, how do we know that what we feel is real?”

The silence that falls over you both is deafening. Leah had always wondered about that, but now she knew her feelings for you were real, regardless of the imprint. However, by the look on your face, you were doubting every single moment you’d ever spent together and it was making Leah anxious. 

She leads you back to the edge of the city, the street lamps flickering overhead and lighting your way home. Neither of you had said a word to each other the whole way back, though both of your minds had been racing. When you turn to her, Leah holds her breath, awaiting the worst. 

“I need some time to... process everything. I’ll call you; promise.”

Leah hadn’t heard from you in close to a month. She thought she’d experienced heartbreak when Sam left her for Emily, but this was a thousand times worse. She was in constant physical and mental anguish; the only thing that slightly alleviated the pain was running in her wolf form. She could never go that far alone, Sam’s orders, but she always put enough distance between her and the other pack members so that they wouldn’t have to feel what she felt so intensely. She’d honestly given them enough of that. 

She’s trudging her way to Emily’s for dinner when your scent causes her to break out into a full on run. She doesn’t knock and instead almost jolts the door off of its hinges. You’re standing next to Seth, who has his lanky arm around thrown around your shoulders, and conversing with Collin, Jared, Emily, and Sam. The commotion causes all of your heads to snap towards Leah, and tears involuntarily spill from her eyes at the sight of you. You shake off Seth’s arm, a half-smile adorning your features as you step in front of her. You wipe the small droplets of water off of her face, and she pulls you into a surprising but very welcome kiss. 

“Do you have to do that right in front of the door?”

Paul’s annoyed tone forces you both to remember where you are, and Leah moves over slightly to let him by. She keeps you trapped in her arms, though, vowing then and there to never let you go. 

“I know I said I’d call, but..” “It’s okay, Y/N. This is much better.”

[notoriousjae]

The 72 Rules of Cat Grant || Supercat (8/?)

Chapter Title: Diving 

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Cat Grant

Rating: M

Chapter Description:

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass.

Note: Finally mostly up-to-date with all this jazz. 

Chapter 1: AO3 Link | FF.Net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 2: A03 Link | FF.net Link | Tumblr

Chapter 3: AO3 Link | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 4: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 5: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 6: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 7: AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr

Chapter 8: AO3 | FF.Net | Below:

It’s day five (and a half) by the time Kara feels her whole life flash before her eyes. Fortunately, the majority of it (where she had a fitful sleep for twenty-four years or so, waking up every few minutes or hours or years to gasp until the life support systems would guide her back into oblivion) is lost in favor of remembering the way Alex had looked when she took her flying the first time, mixed with a murky memory of how Catherine’s smile can catch sunlight. Kara doesn’t have much time to think, at all, and those two images seem to be the best her mind can come up with when her body is thrown through a concrete barrier, fingers scratching at cement to catch her before she can plummet into the murky waters below.

This is officially not her most graceful fight.

The overwhelming taste of green and copper is nauseating-- this is what nausea feels like--and when Kara spits, red spews like paint splatter against the dirty canvas of a life-stained bridge, stumbling to shaky knees when unfocused blue eyes spot the sight of her cousin towering over heaving shoulders of the man in front of her.

This isn’t the first time they’ve met. It’s the fourth, in fact.

It’s the same man, Kara realizes with a sinking dread, that had tried to kill Lena Luthor a few hours before--who had nearly killed her sister a few moments later --and the rage is displayed by another mouthful of something else when he rushes forward, fingers curling around a swallowing neck like an iron vice as she spits what blood she has into his face in defiance.

He merely wipes it away with a rumbling chuckle, the coldness of it seeping far deeper than the Kryptonite does. Which is saying something, because the green is slowly slithering up her spine like a venomous snake and breath is becoming ragged against a swelling tongue.

Powerless.

Kal-El rushes to stop him, but the Kryptonite seems to seep into his bones when Metallo (that’s apparently his name, he likes to throw it around like a trademark) blasts him in the chest, her cousin’s body skittering across the bridge like a lifeless ragdoll and Supergirl struggles against hands made of steel she can’t bend as the glow of green overtakes her, body raising limply into the air as her bending throat creaks like a rusty metal door underneath the weight of his hand.

Definitely not her most graceful fight.

There’s countless flashes from the few spattered civilians brave enough to remain on the bridge and when one throws something at Metallo's head to distract him, Kara lets out a rasping--

“ Don’t --”

--even as the action causes a deathgrip to ease, just a little, because the last thing she wants is for them to die defending her.

Kara really doesn’t want anyone to die, actually. Herself and Kal-El included. Because this shouldn’t be it--it shouldn’t be today--not the day when she’d left Winn asleep on his couch to go stop a robbery. Not the day she hasn’t seen James at all. She hasn’t written Lois. She hasn’t laid out her letters. She’d left a cup of coffee on Cat’s desk with no explanation, this morning and hadn't been the person to leave her lover's third, and had left her relationship with Alex in tatters over a very ill-executed suggestion of Metropolis in her apartment, and they haven’t made it to lunch with Eliza , yet, who is probably making the best sandwiches on any coast, and Kal-El--

Kal-El is stumbling towards them, as powerless as she is from the Kryptonite, and the last daughter of the House of El lets out a quiet, frustrated curse of an apology in Kryptonian, before shoving her hand as hard as she can into the green, glowing pit where a heart should be in this man’s chest with a groan of agony to draw his attention towards her.

Before doing what’s probably the stupidest thing she can think of, but the best option for getting him off this bridge and away from Kal-El--away from the people who are now rushing to help her--

A gasp as fingers claw, memories of a green ring and determined eyes and her sister--her sister--

Kara throws all of her body weight just like her sister had taught her, hand curling in this green abyss (this must feel like what shoving a human’s entire arm into a spreading, growing lava would be) feeling the tendrils of it spreading from her wrist to her arm to her neck. She inhales and exhales and suddenly her breath is green and her eyes are green and her world, weak and small and powerless, is green--

Her leg sweeps underneath his thigh and her nails dig in and pull him closer, not further away--

And she throws them both off the edge of the bridge with a pained gasp, the only thing she can manage, the man’s grunt of surprise in her ear overtaken by a string of very british-sounding curses.

Because only one of them can fly.

It’s halfway through their descent, however, that Kara realizes neither one of them can fly and swallows, eyes closing as she feels the wind rush through her hair and the sound of screams in her ears, and has just enough time to fish out the bracelet in her breast, bringing it up to her lips with a faint apology, holding it with what strength she still has.

Today should not be the day for this.

She didn’t say goodbye.

--

The sun is high and bright and beautiful and Kara’s shoulders almost lazily sag underneath the weight of it as she leans against Catherine’s desk, a takeout box settled on wood and a coffee settled very, very close to her chest. A few moments after depositing them, she decides to plop knowingly--easily--into the chair, instead, and it's a testament to how distracted the CEO must be because there isn't even a half-hearted chide dancing along the office walls, dripping with forced insult and barely-concealed amusement.

“Doesn’t it ever grow tiring, Kara?” Cat quietly asks, eyes settled on a clock and Kara has the most ridiculous urge to skim her lover’s fingers along the edge of gold around her wrist, instead. “Knowing I’ll be here at exactly the same time, every morning. Putting out the same fires with different names. Arguing over semantics. Doesn’t a young girl like you find it tedious dealing with the boring, repeatable minutiae of life?”

“I never get tired of seeing you at 7:05 on the dot, Cat. I actually love minutiae.” Kara shakes her head, coming forward with curled fingers at her lap to keep from running them along the lines of a brow that shouldn’t crinkle quite so deeply. Trying to follow the look in her eyes feels like chasing the tail end of a comet through the stars, something she’ll never be quick enough to wrap her fingers around, and when Cat lets a quiet sigh between the gap of her teeth, she feels succinctly like she’s said the wrong thing. “But I…”

“Of course you don’t, Kara. You haven’t been stuck in an endless Groundhog Day cycle of trying to turn around incompetence, doing the same thing for two decades.” Cat cuts her off, focusing back down on the paper underneath her and a small laugh bubbles up, unbidden, on Kara’s lips, trying to cover it with her hand. It rumbles between them and a singular eyebrow arches over the silver frame of glasses in unimpressed question. “I wasn’t aware my problems amused you. I suppose that’s what I get for paying Lucy van Pelt the 5 cents. Hell, you’ve barely even been alive for two decades, you’re like a perky little goldfish floating around, seeing everything for the first time and then forgetting five seconds later.”

Seeing the tension on Cat’s face, Kara tries to take the insult in stride because the moment she’d walked into a building she currently (for a few more hours) isn’t employed at, she could feel the heat off of Cat’s shoulders. And watch the after-effects of it, given the scurrying employees that told her to run while she could the moment she stepped on the 40th floor.

“Okay, forgetting the fact that you just called me a goldfish, I’m only laughing because I…” Eyes flick behind them and she scoots a chair closer to the desk, uninvited, and ignores the sigh she can practically feel bubbling up on familiar shoulders. “It was the word choice, Cat. I literally spent two decades in space. And I mean literally. Twenty-four years of floating around. Doing the same thing.”

It’s a rare treat to see surprise barely widen those eyes and Kara shakes her head.

“...that’s new information.” Cat’s careful with her word choice and Kara still sees that journalist in the corner of her eyes--squinting and quiet--even as she sees the lover in her clearer and clearer each day, in the way her finger so carefully squeezes the edge of her pen.

“It’s boring information.” The last thing she needs in this week is to see mockups on James’ desk referencing her twenty-four year casting as Sleeping (not) Beauty. She’s trying her best to keep Supergirl out of the news this week. She’s been in it enough, with Metallo. “I wasn’t kidding about the floating. But either way, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” Cat hums, dipping back in her chair, eyes ever assessing, and Kara leans forward to chase that comet, wrists resting on a desk, “There’s a quote I always think of when I think of you, Catherine--”

“You do realize a person who relies on quotes so often usually does so because they don’t have original thoughts?”

Kara’s eyes barely slit, finger raising, “Okay, that’s the second time. I’m letting you slide because I know you’re obviously stressed and it’s rare for you to talk to me about anything so you’re vulnerable and...and grumpy and I do not want to accidentally get Eve fired so I’m keeping my mouth shut,” She straightens her blouse a little, shoulders tightening as her finger wags, voice even and pointed because sometimes Catherine needs a bit of a push back, “But it’s technically not my job to get you coffee, anymore, and I swear I won’t do it if you keep this up, Ms. Grant. Because this one? This coffee’s mine, and I won’t share.”

Okay, it’s not her best threat.

“Oh, you won’t get me coffee ,” Cat drawls, calling her on it, “My world is ending. It’s almost like I don’t have a thousand nameless employees all perfectly capable of doing menial--”

“ Cat .” Kara’s jaw clenches and her voice sounds every bit as strong as the House of El and, amazingly, she watches fingers pinch at the bridge of a nose before they slowly slide off glasses, a hint of remorse settling in a familiar gaze even if her tone is intentionally--it must be intentionally--bored.

“I’m sorry , whatever.” But dark eyes flick towards the balcony and a small sigh lowers shoulders, quieter--barely a whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Kara takes that as her cue to slowly stand, shutting the office door and lowering the blinds--it’s not an uncommon occurrence mid-day for Cat to need a moment, another migraine tucking at the back of her throat--and a softness tips up lips when she sees a familiar hand splayed over the desk like Cat hasn’t expected her to turn around, at all. At the sight of a frown and a down-turned chin, Kara rushes to assure against such a nonsensical fear, voice the same humming volume of the background news coverage she clicks off (an earlier fight between the superheroes and Metallo) when she promises: “I wasn’t leaving, Cat.”

Catherine lets out a slow, slow breath, fingers rubbing at her temples, and Kara leans against a desk--lowers hands with a teasing, knowing bat to an older pair--and lovingly does it for her, hands smoothing against skin underneath the tight line of perfectly-styled hair that falls between them.

“If you scared me off with a couple of mood swings, I wouldn’t have made it past my first hour of working here. Definitely not the morning after we were together the second time.” There’s a faint, almost fond chuckle at the memory of it, “Or maybe I just forget,” It’s sing-song--beaming, “Because I’m a goldfish.”

Cat sags into her hands, a hint of a warm laugh breaking against her wrists, and lips brush over a tilted forehead in a soft gesture--a gentle forgiveness and quiet hello--a hint of gratitude, even, for being able to be right here for her. It’s the equivalent, Kara knows, of not going onto that balcony alone, and she won’t forsake it.

“I should have stuck with golden retriever.” Fingers curl around Kara’s wrist, nose turning into a palm, and when carefully-blackened eyelashes flutter, Kara can see an ocean of open green in Catherine’s eyes.

“Goldfish is fine. I think I like it. Mainly because, normally when people call me a dog, they’re using another word for it and they’re usually very loud.” A sage nod, “ Very angry. And it’s usually? When I’m helping put them in handcuffs.” Her nose wrinkles and Cat laughs and just like that, the day is a little brighter.

“Well the handcuffs could be arranged.” That’s a decidedly lower drawl and Kara flushes from it--crosses her leg on the edge of the desk--bites the edge of her lip underneath the faintest hint of a blush as she leans forward, a breath above Cat’s knowing eyes.

“Well, if you like being tied up, I have a cape that doesn’t fray.” It’s out of her mouth before she realizes she’s even said it and her cheeks turn the same shade as said cape at the image, clearing her throat a little, unused to being so brazen underneath the warmth of the sun but not shying away from it, fingers lowering from temples to skim along a cheek, a moment later hopping up and dutifully retrieving two pills and a glass of water before resuming her perch, those eyes heating skin far better than the sun ever has as she does.

“I like this side of you.” Cat decides, throat bobbing as she swallows the offering.

“Of course you do. Because you’re so certain that it’s all your fault.” The tease causes another laugh and when Cat reaches across the desk, Kara runs fingers along her palm until she can hear her heartbeat ease into the softest staccato among the constant fluttering of pens outside this closed-off office of glass, “If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life. You must accept the terms it offers you.”

“That’s the quote?” A thoughtful hum, but Cat doesn’t pull away, taking another drag of water as elegantly as a socialite might a glass a wine. “That sounds...familiar.”

“T.S. Eliot,” Kara supplies, “ The Confidential Clerk .”

“Of course, everything you could have possibly quoted by T.S. Eliot and some obscure play marks the top of the list.” The glass sets down on the edge of a desk, a reflection of Cat’s quirking lips caught along the edge of it like how stars catch in the glass of her bedroom window, at night.

“ I’m not the one that likes to drop Superfluous Man into the middle of a conversation.” Kara challenges and Cat leans fully back in her chair, fingers idly twining in a familiar pair, so casual and thoughtless that it makes a young smile soften.

“Oh, I really like this side of you.” A nail skims along the inside of Kara’s index finger and she laughs, raising it up to smiling lips.

“My point,” Kara tries because she’s hardly as motivational as the woman she’s attempting to motivate, “Is that you’re a strong woman, Cat, and in anything I’ve ever seen you do--anything you’ve ever done? You’re the one making the terms. You didn’t like that journalism was male-dominated--had no place for women, at all--so you one-upped the scene. You created every form of media sensation possible with, yes, a whole lot of work, you never stop telling any of us about the work, but you did it. Journalism, news, TV, radio. I’m sure people told you you couldn’t be a single mother and a CEO and CatCo is better than ever. And Carter is the smartest, most talented, brilliant kid I’ve ever met.”

Cat hums, a hint of pride flashing over a wistful smile at mention of her son, “That’s certainly true.”

“Even in the hard things, when you gave up your son,” Kara gently reminds, “Society says you can’t have it both ways, and you’re making things with Adam work--and before you blame me for any of that,” Kara raises her free hand, “This relationship with him? It’s all you. It’s on both of your terms, not what anyone else thinks of it.”

A slow, almost shaking breath straightens shoulders, “Also insightful, in a very odd way.”

A beat, "This isn't about the dinner with Adam, right?" 

Thankfully, Cat smiles, "No." So Kara continues, thankful and glad (and thinking that she should really go check that Facebook message).

“You paved the way, Cat. For women. You paved the way for all of us to be taken seriously without having to dress like men , either. Which, you know, is nice. Please no comments about my wardrobe.” That's a hasty addition, flushing and barreling on before Cat can get a word in edge-wise, “You’re a mother and successful. You have a portfolio that your accountant says is so well-rounded you could have your own gravitational field.” Kara shakes her head, pressing, “Even our relationship, Cat,” It’s gentler, voice dipping the same moment Cat’s eyelashes do, “We’re against all odds here, but instead of giving up, you created the terms. We both did. We’re making it work so far, aren’t we?”

“It’s been a few days , Kara.” Kara can hear it. She can hear Catherine’s breath catch against the edge of teeth--can feel her pulse barely quicken--but the almost shy smile that tucks up the edges of curving lips, amused and fond, is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

“It’s been five months, Catherine. Almost six.” It’s an argument she’ll never give up and the fact that Cat doesn’t even try is more than telling, “And we’ve survived. We’re forging new relationship territory, remember? You’re...you’re a woman who changes the world without changing herself to fit it. I’m in awe of it, sometimes, Cat. It’s hard not to be. But it’s just who you are. So why...why would this be any different? You’re talking about CatCo, right? About being unhappy here?”

A grousing hum is all the answer Kara needs, because this is a subject they've broached only in the darkest mist of night.

“Because it’s my entire company, Kara. It’s…” Cat sucks in a breath, frustration quickly overwhelming any traces of her smile, “I’ve spent so long building this empire. This image. My family and--”

“And the things you love, that you throw your whole heart into, aren't as disposable as you want to think.” Kara boldly notes, watching the way Cat's fingers barely flex and leaning closer before she can pull away, voice quiet, because she doesn’t think this is about them, she knows it’s about Cat. Cat’s happiness. And to Kara, that's more important than them. “I don't know what you're thinking of, Cat. I just know... you're not happy with the way things are here, anymore. I get it. And I know you could never leave CatCo or anything,” She laughs at the ridiculous thought and looks curiously at the profile of a woman who suddenly seems content to look through the windows to a balcony overlooking her city--content to look anywhere but Kara. “I know we talk a lot about duty and...that people depend on us.” Kara doesn’t like the way Cat seems to be caught outside, reaching forward to gently tuck up a chin--to bring a gaze up to meet her own away from the city they’ve sworn to protect. “But there's so many ways to help the world, aren't there? And if the way CatCo is doing it isn't what you want anymore...then I don't think anyone on this planet--on any planet, and I've been to a lot of them--is more capable of changing the terms of the world to fit how she thinks the world should be. If you’re not happy, you’ll change it.”

“You...really mean that, don't you? You really think it could just be that easy. Just change the world.” Cat scoffs a little, but there's something so hopeful in her eyes, Kara's words a near tipping point in a game of dominoes. Kara doesn't know what she's done, and likely never will. “You’re so young.”

“Maybe.” Kara concedes, “On this subject you’re definitely the mentor.” Her smile turns sheepish, “Okay, on most subjects you’re my mentor. In fact, I’ve spent a long time studying you, Cat--I'm still adamant that that was part of my job description--so you should be able to take my word for why I believe it’s possible. It’s because you’ve already done it. Your whole life. If you're not happy, and I think you deserve to be happy--you deserve...so much. To be happy,” It’s cold when she drops fingers from a chin, offering a supportive smile, instead, “Then you'll find a way. And if there's anything I can do at all, to help…”

A hand waves towards herself--hopeful and eager and honest--not understanding the hint of conflict settling so deeply, however brief, on Cat's features.

It’s only a moment--a flicker of vulnerability--but she’ll never forget it, the faint flicker of something dark casting shadows over the bright light of Catherine’s lips. It makes Kara stumble a little over the words, enamored by it:

“You should focus on it. The being happy part, remember?”

Kara thinks it must be the weight of figuring out what to do with CatCo--even feels a naive, righteous sense of warmth in her chest from having helped in even the smallest ways--and she'll never quite understand the look in Cat's eyes.

Because that’s the thing with those small, hidden moments before everything changes, it’s impossible to recognize them as lasts until they’re gone. Kara has pockets full of moments just like this one stuffed in a hidden compartment by her heart--her mother’s fingers skimming along the edge of a necklace as she explains love; her father’s eyes brightening as he taps knuckles along a sculpture; Astra’s lips in a dream brushing over her forehead; and this, this moment of Cat’s eyes haunted and conflicted, holding onto something like a planet that’s turning green from the inside out, determined to take the galaxy with it.

Kara towers over Catherine and watches green eyes catch in the sun, the memory burnt on the back of eyelids with a unforgiving sting of a fountain pen. There’s a breath that tumbles from Catherine’s parted lips that means something in its indefinite silence--that hints towards a lifetime of possibilities unsaid--and Catherine almost says something--maybe almost says everything --and this small, simple little exchange is what will play on repeat for months.

Kara Danvers will play it over and over and over again like nails desperately scratching at a broken record. She'll replay the way Cat's hair falls in front of her eyes as her nose dips. The way that her eyes almost shine above those shadows of her cheeks. The way her breath rattles and quakes. The way those fingers curl nails in anxiety and promise.

The way Catherine's lips part and she...says nothing, at all.

What did you want to say?

Kara will beg her to say it. She’ll never scream--never fall to her knees in rage and loss--she’ll never argue or even actually ask anyone but a figment of a ghost of someone she swore not to love--she’ll beg an empty corner of her bed that’s no longer cold, and that’s worse, somehow.

But right now, happy and light and carefree, Kara doesn't notice, instead drumming her fingers on the edge of a desk with a light shrug, too busy trying to pull Cat out of her own head to dive into it, instead. Because that’s her job, these days, she feels, even when she doesn’t exactly have one--to keep Catherine from collapsing in on herself like a singularity with hope and love, alone.

“I was only kidding about not getting you coffee.” Kara smiles and Cat's eyelashes flutter as she lets out that almost quivering breath, nails curling into her desk. It must be nerves or exhaustion but Kara is determined to help cure either, promising, “Let me go grab it for you. Before you can tell me it's not my job, I want to.” A genuine smile, “The little things. I won’t be able to come back here today, anyways, so I’d...like to.”

A foot turns on a heel, intent on walking away and she makes it to the door, fingers curling around warm metal but knowing better to raise the blinds until Cat is ready. Something else she'll have to inform Eve and she's so focused on mentally running through the list in her desk--distracted by the thought of making sure that Ms. Grant has the best replacement possible (did she miss telling Eve anything, while she's here?)--that she almost misses the way Cat's voice quakes when she barely whispers her name.

“Kara?”

Another turn on her heel with a soft hum of question, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of a nose. The sun has settled in Golden hair and showcases the shadows underneath eyes and for one of the few times Kara will ever see it, Catherine Grant visibly hesitates.

Her mouth stills--words halt--and her lips press a thin line. The smile that follows is forced but genuine, something deep cemented in resolution in the depth of her lover's eyes as she jokes:

“My hero.” There’s a quiver at the edge of her lips--a shine to that endless, painting of eyes before Cat’s looking back down. Back to work. “Scalding hot, please.”

But there sounds like there's truth in it--like Cat believes she's a hero through and through--and it makes Kara beam, turning around to get that third latte of the day.

“Anything for you, Ms. Grant.”

Her phone dings at Noonan’s ten minutes later, a freeze-frame of stolen pictures and smiling eyes there to greet smiling eyes.

Thank you.

Teeth tuck at lips and when her phone buzzes again, blue soften and for a second the latte she’s grabbed might actually feel warm against her open hand.

“Boyfriend?” Eve’s tired voice--Kara sympathizes because boy does she still remember her first day, even if this is technically Eve's second--calls around her shoulder, light and kind and knowing and she quickly tucks away her phone, shrugging a shoulder.

“Just a nice text for a nice day.” She offers, instead, eyes flicking down to the mug before raising it up, “Think you’re ready to deliver this one on your own?”

Eve looks terrified.

“Oh, come on, I promise, it won’t be that bad. You’ve done it twice and she hasn’t killed you, right?”

Kara takes another look at her phone, wise enough to hide her smile, this time.

I’m sorry.

A quick reply hidden by her hip--

I’m sticking by the goldfish. It’s forgotten. Really. We’re more than ok Cat. Eve’s bringing you your caffeine fix so please be nice.

Adding for good measure--

Please be nice *Ms. Grant*. Typo?

Even better measure:

Ms. Grant, who has the right to fire anyone she wants but should be nice anyways. ;) Gosh, look at those typos.

She can hear Cat’s indulgent, annoyed sigh forty floors down. The blinds are back up and Kara smiles over Eve’s shoulder the entire time when Cat shoots her a knowing look but wordlessly takes the latte and that’s enough of a victory for Kara. It should be a simple moment, lost and forgotten, moving about her day with no clue--no idea.

“You don’t work here, anymore, Kiera.” Cat calls to her with a glance at a watch, “Seven hours.”

“Yes, Ms. Grant. Consider me not here.”

“Like anyone could shield their eyes, you're like a walking Forever 21 ad.” But Catherine’s smiling now with a flick of a dismissive hand, Eve looking after her like she’s awaiting a nuclear bombing.

Kara’s decidedly not a goldfish. She doesn’t forget.

She sighs in a big, white, empty office, fingers running along stuffed-away pictures, sagging onto a table as she drums fingers along her desk and frowns.

Idly, she plans to get a picture made of the one of Cat on her phone--plans to gently tuck it in a safe place right next to J’onn--and leaves before she can think anymore about a ticking clock, sipping on her own coffee, not bothering to heat it.

Lena’s name lights up the screen of her phone and Kara shoots up into the sky a few minutes later, unable to shake the look on Cat’s face, leaning over a desk, a thousand words left unsaid, and Kara isn’t sure why.

It's the beginning of an end--such simple things usually are--and anytime Kara ever thinks back on it, she'll cry.

--

The last thing she sees is Kal-El, stumbling and just as powerless as her, diving after her over the edge of the bridge, whatever words croaking out of his lips lost to the sound of the wind.

khap zhalish

The last thing she hears is the sound of Metallo hitting the water and going silent.

--

“Alex, I’m not saying I’m going to Metropolis, I’m just--”

“Leaving? What is that like our family motto? Did you ever stop to think that I’ve changed my whole life --”

--

The last thing she does is smile up at Kal-El, trying to assure him as best she can, despite the fear that slowly settles in the pit of her stomach. Falling, at least, feels a lot like flying.

--

“J’onn?” Kara whispers, fingers tenting over a knee as her chin falls down to it, eyes flicking over towards the familiar, somber face. He hums in acknowledgment, the afternoon sun painting the shining floors of the new DEO building in a way Kara is still getting used to. Everything is so...shiny now. Not all...rock-lair, cave-motif.

“Supergirl?” His voice is gruff as always and she wonders if he would understand what it’s like to not sleep for nearly six days, because she’s certain he sounds like he’s never slept, at all.

“Do you think we can ever be happy? I mean, sure we can, right? Saving the world...” She trails off, chin tipping back as she searches the lines of an exposed ceiling, the words to her question lost on her tongue, unsure how to phrase it outside of her mind, “I know we’ll stop Cadmus--I mean, who comes up with a name like that, anyways? What does that even mean--and we’ll stop whoever comes after that, and I know that the world is full of rules . Especially for people like us. But one of those rules...one of those rules has to be that we should be happy, right?”

“I think…” Kara doesn’t look at his face, but his voice sounds so calm--so confident--so steady as his fingers curl around her shoulder, “If there’s anyone that deserves to find out, it’s you and your cousin.”

“You think?”

“I know , Ms. Danvers.” She turns to take in his smile, then, and she leans into his hand before the squeeze becomes a pat. “You’re still not sure which job--”

“No.” Kara sighs, “It's not that. I think I know, I just...I wonder some days if--I mean, between Alex and Kal-El and Cat--”

“J’onn!” A voice calls around the corner, “We’ve got reports of a jumper on--”

--

The last thing she thinks before the impact of the ocean engulfing her like an unwanted gift, the pain rattling like a broken baby’s toy through her shattering bones, is that Eliza? Alex?

Catherine?

They’re going to kill her if she dies.

The water soaks through her suit, ice and lifeless, staining the white of a list until it crumples so that when it’s unfolded, for the rest of its life, it will never unfold the same way, again. Like the thin line of glass that can never be repaired to its first form, an uncompleted list will crumple at the edges and fold in uneven lines, some of the ink running at the edges.

It will change--break and mend--just like a heart can.

--

Rule #72….

--

Life isn’t as dramatic as the movies--as the books she spent years pouring over bent knees devouring--and maybe hurtling herself and a man bent on destroying dozens of people (herself and her cousin, included) off of a bridge is maybe a little dramatic by nature, but waking up from it isn’t.

She wakes up to an empty room, the heat of a sunlamp staining the rise and fall of her chest with life.

She wakes to a dozen voicemails and one text, in particular, that makes her swallow--she wakes to Kal-El’s smiling, cut face as they both heal--she wakes having not really slept, at all, five and a half days lacking it settling down her healing bones underneath a false Sol just as much as the Kryptonite had.

She wakes up to J'onn's nervous eyes and Alex gone and doesn’t let herself heal and Kal-El doesn’t ask her to. She wakes to her sun having set and the world tasting like cold and green and she tucks a bracelet back in her pocket, not having let go of it for a moment--a breath--the entire time she laid there.

Kara wakes up, maybe, but she doesn't feel awake.

Kara tears apart the city to find her sister and doesn’t let her go when she does, a murmured apology in her ear that’s doubled ten-fold against her neck.

She wakes and heals and saves and a few hours later, all four of them--J’onn, Kal-El, Alex, and Kara--are once again in two separate cities, determined to protect the people within them, moonlight at their backs.

Death doesn’t stop them, and neither does Metallo. She rips out his heart and barely keeps from crushing it beneath her palm.

Kara doesn’t remember being in the water--doesn’t remember much save for falling--but she’ll see the headlines of the image of Superman cradling her body against his chest as he stumbles out of the ocean like a beacon as he holds her , a bracelet limply hanging from her fingers as the sun settles on his shoulders and dances shadows on her bruised, barely recognizable features. Both of their forms cut and bruised and hanging on the edge of life, war-torn and martyrs.

She’ll see the picture hung on the edge of what was once Catherine Grant’s wall, along with their other highest-selling covers--right next to the one of them both healing, scraped and bruised, towering over Metallo--for months every time she walks into the office and feels a chill hang over her features.

She doesn’t remember, but she’ll see that picture and will shatter a breath against her teeth and understand why Cat couldn’t bear to look at it, at all.

The whole night is spent tracking Cadmus with little to show for it and, eventually, in the early hours of the morning--day 6 because being in some kind of coma or something does not count as sleeping--Kara hugs Kal-El tighter than anyone else could, feeling Alex’s fingers on her shoulder, and tells him that she’s staying.

She’s staying. That’s a decision she knows how to make. She’s not going to Metropolis. She’s never going to Metropolis, not as long as Alex is here.

So Kara watches him shoot off into the twilight sky, taking a piece of herself with him--thankfully taking the last of the Kryptonite, as well--before she kisses her sister’s cheek and shoots off, herself.

It’s nearly five in the morning when she sets down on a familiar balcony and wonders why she isn’t surprised to see Cat leaning on the edge of it, swirling a glass in her palm. Either she stayed here the entire night--unlikely, given Carter--or just started early, but the circles unhidden, silhoutting the features of familiar eyes is telling, enough, and Kara has to swallow down more than breath when she comes closer.

Without a word, bruised fingers gently untuck a bracelet from a suit, a little squeezed but since cleaned (haphazardly cleaned in a DEO sink by her cousin at Kara’s pleading, pleading look, and then feverishly cleaned the moment Kara could stand on trembling knees an hour later) and offers it palm up to the woman next to her as their shoulders brush, settling next to her on the balcony.

It’s not unusual that Kara doesn’t know the right words to say--it’s a daily occurrence--so when Catherine takes a long, long drag of the liquid before reaching forward, nails almost reverently skimming along the expensive, bent bracelet, Kara doesn’t bother trying. Instead, she just holds the bracelet up as Cat becomes reacquainted with it--dips fingers underneath the shine of it--and when her lover’s breath finally rattles into the night, Kara doesn’t mention the wet sheen to dark eyes, clear even so high above the city, lights dim and quiet. She just gently unhooks the bracelet and slides it around Cat’s wrist, raising it up to her lips and kissing it in silent apology, just as she had before plummeting into the ocean. Not that she would tell Catherine she’d done that, at all.

That doesn't seem like knowledge that would help.

At least this time, she feels a heartbeat flutter underneath her touch.

And Catherine’s so slow about it, the way her wrist turns and so carefully cups Kara’s cheek in a trembling palm, thumb brushing over the high rise, underneath the worst of her still-healing cuts, that Kara wouldn’t know the words even if she tried to stumble over them.

“That is not what I meant by diving. You certainly like causing a spectacle of yourself, don’t you?” It’s a dry whisper--like a barrel full of whiskey, a burning match hovering above it--and Kara just leans into her. It’s been a long day and there’s familiarity in it, a hint of a laugh flushing cool cheeks.

“Someone likes to tell me I like being difficult.” Kara swallows because the thin smile Cat’s attempted gives way to something else, leaning down to slot their foreheads together and the quaking anger does little to overrun the hint of something far worse on her lover’s tongue.

“We have nearly three dozen witness testimonies regarding your idiotic heroics, and none of them understood the gravity of what happened in front of them. Pictures showing you bleeding before you practically backflipped off of the bridge. You could have--”

“I came home to you.” It’s gentle and loving and a little desperate, lips brushing over a forehead and Cat’s fingers tangle so tightly in her suit that she can barely breathe. “Catherine--”

“You’re still bleeding.” It’s a searing breath that curls up in pain at the end, Cat’s fingers tracing the wound below a bloodshot eye and Kara catches her wrist with a faint wince as that jaw lines itself with steel and features contort in something indistinguishable before Catherine pulls away altogether. Voice far colder: “You missed your deadline--”

Kara selfishly kisses her like her life depends on it--like she can’t catch Catherine with fingers or words, so she tries chasing her with this, instead--pressing her up against glass with a withering, breaking sigh against parting lips. Fingers tangle in her hair and the sound of a bracelet clattering to the floor is lost underneath the scratch of heels, because Kara had forgotten to re-clasp it.

“I don’t care about my deadline.” Kara kisses her again because the further and further Kal-El shoots into the sky, the further the green seeps out of her bones and she knows she can keep Cat here against her with super-strength, but she’d rather keep her with something far darker in the pit of her chest. Almost accusing: “You came up here to wait for me.”

“I wouldn’t--” Catherine practically hisses , a frustrated breath on the edge of her tongue rolling like a locomotive up her lungs, her hands cupping cheeks and tugging her close. “ Yes . I had to see you with my own eyes.”

“I’m right here.” Kara promises, pulling away so that Cat’s fingers can trace every single line of her face like her thumbs are far more knowing than her eyes. And they might be. She sucks in a sharp breath when a thumb swipes underneath that same cut, surprised when Cat tugs her down and gently brushes lips underneath the puckered edge of healing skin.

Catherine kisses her again, consuming and rough, and Kara’s knees shake before she's suddenly pushed her away, again, just as rough and just as consuming, jaw setting.

“We’re crashing the cover.”

“You’re--” Kara blinks because it’s five AM and she doesn’t know how she missed the noise--the life in the building--because her ears are still full of Kryptonite and her lungs might still be full of water, “Oh.”

“You don’t work here, anymore.” Cat straightens her hair--her blouse--sets aside her drink and stands taller than Kara knows how to, shoulders wilting and something quaking pushing through parted lips.

“...oh.” A hint of a desperate laugh, wishing she at least had the bracelet to hold onto because suddenly she feels very, very cold, surprised when fingers gently tuck up her chin and she comes face to face with Catherine’s determined, unwavering gaze. There’s something sad there, now--something Kara’s well aware she’s put there--and it makes her swallow feel like glass. But still she can’t stomach the thought of Metropolis, not now. Not after holding Alex’s trembling hands and not after seeing the look in Cat’s eyes. “I’ll--”

“I extended your deadline.” Cat whispers and Kara blinks.

“You--” Another blink, unable to help the surprise. A third blink because-- “Really?”

“Kara, I’m tough, not cruel.” Her voice is quieter, then, fingers falling from a chin and Kara boldly catches them.

“I don’t think you’re cruel, I just--”

“Thought that I was going to fire you for trying to save someone’s life on the off-chance that you were stupid enough to die?” Cat supplies and Kara swallows.

“Well, I--no? Not exactly...that. Maybe fired me to make a poi--”

“Stop talking before you dig yourself into a hole superstrength wouldn’t get you out of. I’m well aware of what people think of me, I don’t need to add what your pedaling little thoughts are to the--”

Kara reaches up to cup her cheeks in a way that makes Cat visibly tense, words dying out before she smiles, “You don’t want to hear that I think the world of you? I know it’s a little too cheesy for your tastes.”

“You really have to stop talking.” Cat warns but there’s a hint of a smile there, now, and lips brush over a forehead, holding the smaller form against her chest for as long as she’s allowed. Which is longer than expected, long fingers gently raising to spread out over a heart as a nose slots against a neck. Kara can feel the heat of the sun--faint and faraway, but there--on her back by the time Cat untangles herself, a rough sigh sliding past her lips. She bends down and clasps the bracelet properly on her wrist, now.

“Catherine,” Kara murmurs before she can go too far, kissing the rise of knuckles before letting her lover go, completely, “I’m not saying that I think what I did was...okay. I’m not trying to make you feel better, but I...did. Come home to you. I’ll always come home to you, if I can. You’re--you’re what gave me the strength to--”

Cat raises a hand up in-between them, stopping Kara in her tracks, and the look on her face, however brief, is pained enough that Kara feels regret over saying anything at all. The bracelet jangles as the hand lowers and the CEO of CatCo looks back towards her lit office, shoulders straightening and heels clicking, a discarded drink on the nearby balcony table.

“You have until Friday afternoon, 4 O’clock, not a moment later. You’re not stepping foot here in any form of professional capacity until then.”

“Okay.” Kara breathes--nods--looks back up and clears her throat at the straight line of shoulders she wishes she could spend hours easing the knots out of with well-intentioned fingers. Knots she caused. And she thinks Catherine was right, this weekend--she does have to learn how to live with affecting her. “Thank you...Ms. Grant.”

Cat nods and leaves and the balcony feels colder for it.

As cold as the city seems without Kal-El--without Kryptonite, even--and Supergirl turns to tower over her city for a few more minutes before falling down to the street, to the corner around the corner, leaning against the wall by Noonan’s.

She strips off her suit and slowly pulls up jeans--a shirt--and looks down at glasses, cracked along an edge she’ll need to fix, cupped in her palm as the sun starts to rise. She listens to the city wake and the life paint the streets in gold and red and green and with a suit tucked in her bag, a cut slowly healing underneath her eye, Kara Danvers starts the long walk home to an empty apartment across the city.

Alive and exhausted and cold, she doesn't really feel like flying. 

 --

 **Kryptonian Translations, Mythos, and other DC shenanigans** Source(s) Language **Zhalish: Pardon, excuse, absolve, disregard, exonerate. Another way of saying "I'm sorry". verb P: [n̩.ʒæ.liʃ]; Kryptonian: :ZAliS

[inanotherworld5599]

Only You

Prompt: First Love, Sasusaku Month Day One

Summary: When Sasuke and Sakura realise who their daughters first love was and in the process find out about eachothers. (Post Gaiden)

“I think Sarada has a crush on Boruto.”

Sasuke has always taken pride in being a careful person, he’s rarely the kind to let things fall from his only hand and even if on the off chance something does, his reflexes are fast enough for him to catch the item before it hits the ground.

But when Sakura walks into their house after a long shift at the hospital to make one of the most ludicrous announcements he’s heard in a while he can’t help but drop the stirring spoon he held in his hands.

“What?”

His voice is silent and deadly. On a normal mission it’s enough to paralyze whoever is on the receiving end in terror but Sakura simply laughs it off, her husband hardly looks threatening in his his homely blue apron which matches the head band that thier daughter had helped him tie to keep the hair out of his face.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh darling I think you’re over reacting.” Sakura states as she wraps her arms around his waist and stands on her tip toes so that she can peer over his shoulders to see what he’s making (it’s Sarada’s favourite sweet dish) “I think it’s cute that he’s her first love.”

Sasuke sighs, his immediate plans of killing a certain blonde haired idiot (No, not that one, his son) subsiding.

It’s easy to give into his wife in moments like these when they are alone. He knows she’s tired, the soft yawn she tries to stiffle as she presses her cheek to his back is a testament to that.

Sasuke doesn’t have the heart to break out of her grip for he knows that at times like these when Sakura is tired, chakra depleted and cold he’s her favourite pillow.

He’d never admit it out loud but he was quite proud of that particular designation.

Plus it’s not like he’d actually be able to wriggle out of her embrace considering her ungodly strength.

Besides the more time he’s given to think, the more painful he can make that moronic brat’s death.

He suppose Sarada would be mad at him for the first couple of days but he was sure she’d get over it after he taught her a new jutsu.

Sakura hums softly as he stands there letting his brief spike of anger simmer down along with syrup he’s stirring to her soft tune. It’s a lullaby she’s humming, one that he’d sung once to her during her pregnancy days when she had trouble sleeping. It’s the same one Itachi used to sing when he was a child and it’s calming effect still holds true after all these years.

“Darling.” Sakura starts,“Who was your first love?”

Sasuke blinks, all his creative plans to kill Boruto brought to a abrupt stop by her sudden query.

“What do you mean?” Sasuke’s voice is harsher than he means it to be and while he tries to convince it’s because something is stuck in his throat he is well aware that it’s just an excuse to cover up the fact that he’s the slightest bit hurt that even after all these years the answer is still a mystery to Sakura.

“Oh!” She says jerking away from him, her hands falling away as she steps back. Wide veridian eyes stare back at him as he turns around to face her, irritated that she let go.

For a moment she stands there still before she starts stuttering out,“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to pry- I was just curious and-”

“Sakura.” He interrupts,“What are you talking about?”

She blinks,“Your first love, she was an Uchiha wasn’t she? I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“What gave you that idea?”

She blinks up at him. Even after all these years there are some insecurities she can’t shake off. It this habit of hers that bothers him the most, maybe because every time she displays her unsurity about their relationship Sasuke is overcome with a tidal wave of self loathing for he knows that all her insecurities stem from the fact that he’d treated her like crap through out the course of their childhood.

“I just thought-” she sighs breaking off,“Never mind.

“Tch. Annoying.”

She lowers her head,“You’re right that was a stupid.”

He lets his lips curve into a small smile, amused by her reaction. For some reason he never gets tired seeing her like this; embarrassed and shy.

It’s one of the more contrasting things about his wife because while she’s one of the strongest people he knows, nothing less than deadly in battle, she’s also one of the kindest. As a kid he never believed one could be both, strong and kind but in the past fifteen years of their marriage Sakura has spent everyday of it proving him wrong.

While she’s kind to everyone she meets, this side of her, the one where she’s shy and unsure is reserved only for Sasuke and he isn’t ashamed to admit that, that’s just how he likes it.

And that’s why he loves teasing her at times like these because he’s the only one who can and get away with it.

“Who was your first love?“ He asks nonchalantly.

Sakura looks up at him incredulously.

“What?” She asks,“ Is this a joke?”

Sasuke simply shrugs as he turns away from her to add the finishing touches to his dish.

Her eyes are defiant as she pokes her head into his line of sight,“I’ve loved you since we were five years old I’ll have you know. It might have been a superficial crush at first but I’ve only ever liked you.”

“Only me?” Sasuke says as he pours the contents into a bowl,“That’s hard to believe.”

Her eyes narrow,“If not you, then who? It’s only ever been you.”

“Not even Lee when he saved you during the Chunnin exams?”

“No.” She replies,“And if you recall I hugged you then and not him.”

“Not even Naruto when you kissed him?”

“That was CPR by the way.” She counters,“And you kissed him too. Twice.”

“Kakashi?”

“Are you kidding me?” She started,“That’s ridiculous.”

“Sai?”

“Where are these names even coming from?” She huffs,“ This is-”

Before she can finish, Sasuke quickly bends down and brushes his lips against hers shocking her into silence. It’s an awfully short kiss and when Sasuke pulls back he smiles as he looks down at his wife’s closed eyes and puckered lips.

“For the record you were the first and only person I’ve ever loved.” Sasuke states.

Her eyes flutter open and she stares at him confused for a moment before her mouth forms an ‘oh’. Then her questions begin,“Really? How? When? I thoug-”

“Sakura.” He cuts her off giving her a look.

“Right. I’ll shut up.”

“Good, then it’s easier to do this.” He leans down and kisses her again.The tips of his fingers graze against her skin as he cups her cheeks and lifts her face towards him his lips moving against hers effortlessly.

While Sasuke is a reserved man, there is absolutely nothing reserved about his kisses.

Sakura still remembers the first time Sasuke had kissed her she’d felt all her unsurity about their relationship melt away. While his kisses are commanding, they’re all consuming and absolutely and completely honest. He leaves no room for her to doubt his feelings for her because the way he kisses her always makes her feel like he’s laying his soul bare for her to see. Only her to see.

Because in the end for both Sasuke and Sakura it had only ever been each other since the very begining.

Sakura is about to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer to deepen their kiss but Sasuke abruptly breaks away once again leaving her hanging.

Sakura pouts as Sasuke starts walking towards the living room. She can’t see the smirk on his face but she knows that he’s thoroughly enjoying messing with her.

“You don’t play fair.” She grumbles as she follows Sasuke.

He sits on the couch and gently pats his lap. Sakura happily bounds towards him, her complains forgotten and takes her place on the couch by lying across it with her head resting on his lap.

They stay like that for a while as Sasuke reads a scroll regarding the latest details of his mission and Sakura stares up at him carefully memorizing all the details of his face for she knows that when he’s gone it’s these moments she’ll cherish the most.

“You know we both married each other’s first love.” Sakura comments offhandedly,“Do you think Sarada will do the same?”

“The brat won’t live long enough.”

Sakura snorts,“You’re not going to kill him, Naruto will never let you hear the end of it if you do.”

“I can handle the dobe.”

“You’ve been trying to get rid of him for eighteen years now, how’s that working out for you?”

“Tch.”

“If you actually consider it, it’s kind of cute really.” Sakura continues,“Naruto and Hinata’s son with our daughter. Plus Sarada is really open about her feelings too. I thought she’d be like you and be in denial about it for at least five years.”

“I was not in denial about it.”

“If I was your first love that means you must have loved me since we were genin, right?” Sakura prompts,“And you were pretty much an ice cube those days.”

“I wasn’t in denial, I just didn’t show it.”

“So you were in love with me since we were genin.”

“Sakura.”

“Okay fine, I’ll drop it.” Sakura relents,“So anyway today I heard her and Choucho talking about Boruto and that’s how I gussed. They were fawning over how his blonde hair catches the sun rays perfectly and-”

Change of plans, Sasuke was going to first torture the brat and then kill him.

“- just how mature and responsible he is-”

When did he brat become mature and responsible? Just the other day he remembered his daughter complaining how childish and careless the dobe’s son was.

“- how his blue eyes pop perfectly against his white clothes and-”

Sakura stopped abruptly when she saw the look on Sasuke’s face.

“What’s wrong?“she asks lifting herself up from his lap and turning around to face him properly.

“The brat kid only wears black.” Sasuke deadpans,“His training clothes are black and pink.”

“Then…..” Sakura trails off as realisation dawns on her.

For a moment they stare at each other, green against mismatched black and purple.

The next second Sakura is up and Sasuke is right behind her, heading for the door.

“I’m going to kill the dobe.” He mutters poisonously as he opens the door.

Sakura brushes past him,“Not if I get to him first.”

All the way across town in the Hokage’s office, Naruto sneezed. ______

I’ll be honest I really want to see Sasuke appear in the Hokage’s office with his apron and matching headband and beat the hell out of Naruto with his stirring spoon.

[cherchez-la-femmme]

Fire With Fire pt. 2

One more dive into the subtle (but obvious) world of Charmer. 

She was making her way to the hotel room, her head still throbbing from the epic Amaranthe concert she’s just seen, and all the beer, and the endorphin surge from their own show just a few hours back. The guys decided to stay longer, but she felt that she’s had enough for today; of both beers and excitement. Besides, she could really use a few extra hours of sleep, at least this once. 

She walked out of the festival grounds to the hotel, greeting a few familiar faces along the way, and being cheerfully greeted by some unfamiliar ones in return, despite her pink hoodie drawn deep in her face. It was dark, and a very advanced hour as well, and yet some of the people managed to recognize her petite frame anyway. “Hey! Merel!” She turned her head in a natural reflex upon hearing her name. A bunch of big, bearded, long-haired guys made their way to her, spilling their beer on the way. “You really kicked ass tonight! Man, I wish there were more badass chicks like you. Come have a drink with us, girl.” She shook her head with a smile and avoided the massive arm, trying to catch her around her shoulders. “I went all out there for you guys, bedtime now. Thanks thoug. Here,” she took some free beer tokens out of her pocket and handed them out to them, before they started protesting against her refusal. “On the badass chick,” she said, gave them a thumbs up and walked off at the sound of cheerful laughter and some ‘Fucking marry me!’.

One of the things she adored about the metal community is that the people in it were always unbelievably friendly. Although she always felt like a child among all those impressive bearded men and breathtakingly beautiful women, it was a very loved and treasured child at best. She had that feeling back when she was at school, in her first band, but also alongside of all the big people with the big names that she's been playing with recently. Still, this encounter made her think back at how cool it used to be when she’d still come to festivals as a mere visitor, instead as one of the headliners. It was different back then, much more time and energy for chilling, and drinking, and getting trashed, but also much less awesomeness. She had no complaints what so ever, but she did miss the anonymous fun that ended with the VIP armband and the (mostly) free beer.

Her line of thought was interrupted as she finally arrived to the hotel lobby, and saw Charlotte sitting at the far end of the now already a very quiet bar, clearly deep in thought over her notebook and a cup of tea. Merel was already tired as hell, and not exactly sober, but after a not very long moment of contemplation, she decided to join her, after all. Merel came crashing down on the bar stool next to her, put both her arms on the table and laid her head on them, facing Charlotte, who looked up and gave her a wide smile. “Had fun?” “If by fun you mean beer, then yes, lots.” “Is that right? Then please don’t breathe on me.” Merel chuckled. “So this is how you come up with inspiration for your lyrics?” Charlotte laughed, and rubbed the end of her nose with her fingers. “Might be. I am actually working on some new stuff right now.” “Ooh,” Merel perked up on her chair, moving closer and trying to sneak a peek of what the singer was writing, “let me see.” But Charlotte promptly closed her notebook and poked her index finger into Merel’s shoulder, pushing her away. “Curious little puppy, aren’t you? It’s not done yet. Besides, you really look like you could use some sleep, missy.” Merel frowned, but didn’t protest when Charlotte stood up, and gestured her to come upstairs. She got up and followed the taller woman into the elevator. As the door closed, it became completely silent. Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of an elevator music? Just as Merel wanted to say her thought out loud, she heard Charlotte's voice sing silently.

“I’ve built a hundred thousand walls To keep my heart from harm I’ve lived in the shadow of my solitude Safe and sound, I stood my ground.

But then you came And I became The huntress and the prey

The hundred thousand walls I built I climbed until I bled Just to see you smile at me To take me to your bed.”

Merel watched Charlotte sing. She had her eyes closed, and didn’t stumble once. She has obviously put a lot of effort in this already. Just when Merel wanted to say something, the door opened, Charlotte opened her eyes and nodded at her. “Come on.” Once again, Merel followed. The singing still sounded in her ears. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking that there was something different about this song. Something just didn’t feel right… Or maybe it felt just exactly right. Or maybe it was just the alcohol doing the thinking. They came to the doors of their rooms that were right next to each other. Merel looked at Charlotte expectantly, but she was busy figuring out the opening mechanism. “Why can’t they just use keys? What is wrong with keys? Who thought of opening doors with cards, seriously,” she was muttering to herself. “Hey, Charlie,” Merel said, coming closer and taking the chip card from her hands, “it was a beautiful song. I love it.” She opened the door for her, and returned the card. “I am glad you like it, drunkie,” Charlotte responded softly, and gave Merel a kiss on her head. “Goodnight.” “Night,” Merel responded and made her way to her own room.

But then you came And I became The huntress and the prey

Charlotte’s voice sounded in her head as she fell, fully clothed, face down on the bed.

Charlotte was sitting in the middle of a messy bed, only half dressed, her laptop being the only source of dim, yellow light in the room. Earlier on stage today, when Merel sang her part of the song, Charlotte could literally feel the kiss of the muse. In fact, it felt like a whole lot more than just a kiss. It felt deeper. Dirtier, And much more daring. She could feel it like a lightning bolt coming through her body. And that was also the reason why she left the festival so early, and why she spent the whole evening writing, high on green tea and inspiration. All of a sudden, a silent knock on the door disturbed her wild streams of thoughts. She looked up, and then back down. She was certainly not dressed properly to accept any visitors, so she grabbed a bathrobe on her way to the door. As soon as she opened the door, Merel squeezed herself through and walked into her room without a word. Charlotte turned around and walked after her with raised eyebrows, locking the door. Merel jumped on the bed and made herself comfortable among the messy sheets. She looked so natural in there, Charlotte’s heart shivered. “Show me more,” she said, hugging a pillow. “Well, I can take this bathrobe off-“ “No, jesus,” Merel exclaimed, “please spare me. I want to hear more of the song.” Charlotte sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh. “I told you it’s not finished yet.” “But you just sang it to me in the elevator. Sounded finished to me.” “Maybe you sound finished to me,” Charlotte teased and poked Merel in the ribs. She giggled, but the spark in her eyes didn’t cease. She knew she’s gonna have to show her more, whether she likes it or not. She should never have started this… “Okay, okay.” Charlotte sat herself comfortably next to Merel, laid her head back and closed her eyes. At first, she just took a couple of deep breaths. Like in a yoga practice. Four in, hold for two, four out, hold for two, repeat. When her heart calmed, she started humming the new melody.

“You said I was your sun, your moon You called me your black star But I never knew just what you want, Never learned who you are.

You lit my flame, And I became The huntress and the prey

You’re always there, right by mi side, And yet you’re never here, And I keep building my walls And tearing them down, Just to drown in my own loneliness, Over and over again.

I killed my flame, And we became The hunters and the prey”

Charlotte opened her eyes and looked down at Merel. She met a pair of big, teary eyes. All Charlotte heard was the sound of her own shaky breath. But before she could say something to break the silence, a cracked voice sounded from beneath the pillow: “Is… Is this song about me?”

[insideherstory-blog]

My Moment of Weakness

It's too easy to say that we've got our fair share of moments of weakness, and some are different than others. You lose your job, you experience a breakup, you feel like the world is at your case, your mother loses her sanity.. I get it; we all go through them and we cannot control them. Its' simple..we can't change anything.. we can't turn back time. You get up, dust yourself off and go forward with your life... We're all made to do that, and sometimes we all have that time in our lives that we simply cannot shake off of us. Let me go back to the time where I had my moment of weakness.... It was the early spring of 2010.... I had just turned 14..... What I didn't know that, with the events following after my birthday that February..... I found myself experiencing something I wish I could never have to go through in my life.... The foreshadowing moments of loss, hurt and weakness kept lurking around and I knew it was not something good. Of course you could say that it's a fact of life, but for me... it wasn't.. It was the most painful period of time I've experienced in that short amount of time. Lets trace back the date to approx April 2010.. In that time period, our family started getting the worst feeling about somebody we absolutely loved to all the pits of the earth. It was that day, I cannot recall the actual time in April..but I knew how our lives were about to change for the worst about to come. I found myself in a pit, my heart was about to break when I learned the four words that would change my life. "Your nana has cancer.".. those four words made my heart sink into the pit of my stomach. I could recall the loss for words I would soon have, and the pain that my heart was in learning about one of the most important people in my life who wasn't doing great. So, now we're knowing about the sudden turn of events... my nana's cancer wasn't healing... Its like when you pick up a delicate flower that's leaves were too brittle and would crumble in your hands.... That's how it was when I was experiencing the long and stressful period when my family was about to brace for the impact of the journey to the end. I could remember, when I would see her.. She would seem that she'd be okay.. but on the inside; everything was changing and not in the way I wanted it to... I could remember me always asking my mother if it was operable.. I would've given my lung, or even a small chunk to replace the cancerous chunk of her lung to make the sicknesses go away.. but then my mother broke my heart even more... She broke the sad news that it was incurable and inoperable.... and I couldn't handle the heartbreak that came along with it... I would've done ANYTHING to keep her alive for another three years...I felt insufficient, I felt a void of insecurity about the future... It physically hurt me, and I did not want to be seen as weak to my nana who was going through a lot with her trying to stay strong, trying to fight the demons {the cancer} inside her. It took every single ounce of fight left inside of me to hold myself together throughout the biggest fight of her 72 year old life. A few months would track on, and her cancer wasn't done with her.... We decided to take her home to our place so she could be with us until there were arrangements in place to get her into palliative care... or somewhere with a full-shift nurse to be able to feed her, help her use the facilities... to help her get mobile.... just to hold her over to see if she would beat the disease that was shortly killing her. I could remember, one June day.. she was just needing help to use the facilities... Her energy had deteriorated a great amount but it took her every single amount of strength she could to go walk that 15 steps to the facilities, and I was reading a flier at the supper table in our rather small kitchen. She had gotten herself up and already to the frame of the bathroom's door, but then I raced to go help her to sit on the toiler to use the bathroom.... She kept telling me she could do it, or that she was fine... I had an initial thought that she kept saying that to make me feel at ease with the situation that was to be a different turn of events that would be happening just a moment later. Of course, with her cancer and her health deteriorating so so much it would make me worry about her even more, it was not until that initial moment everything changed. I had my arm wrapped around her lower waist by her hips but I was unable to help her as she needed to do her business in the bathroom and right then and there she tumbled when I was trying to hold her upright..... I had no idea how to react, and my initial thing to do was start crying and call for help in the midst of losing all sense of strength from myself... 'Twas that moment I finally realized I could not bottle my feelings in all at once, and I finally let myself feel weakness at that moment after going MONTHS with trying to stay strong for one of the most personable people that played a critical role in my life. She had then passed out on the floor from a low iron count... She would then be rushed via ambulance to the hospital.... I felt helpless, the scared little girl who was trying to stay strong for the longest time... I felt like I just watched a plane crash before my eyes.. but this was my nana. She had just fallen, hitting her head and I witnessed everything.. I had let my guard down and it was not the right time to do so. We then would learn that her cancer would metastasize to other locations in her body and eventually start killing her slowly. I would always go to the hospital with my family to go see her, but I knew I wasn't physically strong enough to see her in a fragile state where I felt that if I touched her she would crumble under my touch.... It was the hardest thing to see at just fourteen years old, it. Caused me so so much pain just to see someone who's been there for me since I was born start to end her journey called life. I had just entered the eleventh year of school, and just a few days into the first month of my penultimate year of high school.... I was doing pretty good in my grades as it was the beginning of the academic year to come. I, had a very tough time focusing in school.....my mental state was poor... and then it hit me that that September I would lose her. That morning, September 27th 2010... I would do my continual routine of waking up, having a shower, getting dressed, doing my hair, having my morning bolt of energy in a cup of hot steaming coffee then I'd be on my way to school and I would get on with life... My mother would call me that morning as I was eating my breakfast of cereal with milk..I had already been dressed, and then it never phased me that I would be having my last conversation with her.... I had gotten down my driveway to catch my ride to school, and I would get to school like every other school morning. The air was cool for a rather mild September morning, the sun was just trying to get out from it's protective cloud cover... I understood why the September air was crisp and I had this gut feeling that was the last time she talked to me.. and much to my dismay...that was.. I would then go til past the lunch hour; and I surprisingly was not hungry and be on my way to my next class, it was social studies and I kept to my studies and it wasn't until 1:39PM time rolled around the call to my home room that I'd be going home early that afternoon... I then knew the second I got home that my nana had lost her courageous battle with the one disease we never imagined that would inevitably cut like a knife to our hearts.. She had passed away that morning at 9:29AM, and that was an hour and 46 minutes after I had settled in at school for that damp Monday morning. The week following the day of her passing, I decided to not attend classes for it was my best interest to stay with my family and work on the emotional process that would be to plan her memorial which would be that Friday... The transition, was excruciatingly painful for me to endure... I had just lost my nana that Monday.. and I would be expected to go back to normal the following week... October 4th, one week post biggest heartbreak in my life....would inevitably be the hardest Monday of my life and it took me every single fiber of my body to keep going.... I would be in my morning math class, and I would then close my books and have that first cry of the day... My teacher, then knew the pain I was in and I had no patience to stay in that room any longer so I would then just go upstairs to the cafeteria for which I would then ask for a water through my voice shaking from the tears flowing. I would then spend the last 28 minutes with a classmate as she comforted me.. My teacher asked if I wanted to go home, I told him "No. I have to focus on my work".. but I knew deep inside me that I would not manage to keep it together. It would then be lunch, that began at 11:50AM and last 30 minutes.. My best friend and I were sitting in the hallway on the floor, and I would just cry, I barely had touched my food or the soda my father would proceed to pack with my lunch... I knew. How much pain I was in, and I knew I was not strong... I had decided to exempt myself from participating in the gym class to try to gather the strength I needed to make it to that last bell at the end of what felt like 50 hour day. I would then be on the bus, with my backpack... the millions of pages of homework inside my binder and my textbook.. I'd then cry again.... It caused me so much pain, I didn't feel like even functioning the week after.. My mother ––– she would try to comfort me at times when it was needed, other times I would just crawl into my mother's bed and cry myself to sleep... It didn't matter if I was hungry, or angry.. I would just crawl into the warmth of the bed and cry... all I could do was cry... but my mother kept telling me that my nana wouldn't want me to cry and be in emotional pain. What I didn't know, was that it would take me MONTHS to get back to normal..even though it wasn't and I knew it wasn't normal.. I still was dealing with the aftermath of the pain I experienced post-passing. I knew I had to stay strong, even though I didn't want to.. So I would try my best, and I would be on my way to "recovery." You see, we all have our moments of weakness... we all get hurt...we all cry... we all go through tortuous pain... we all rise and fall like the sun... but in the end –––– we all keep going.

[dearlybeelovedreadingroom]

Voided Reveries: Book One, part four

When they got to the Void, Autumn’s mother gently lowered her to the ground and brushed herself off. They stepped forward and both held their breath as they tipped themselves into the Void, landing on their arms and knees. When they stood up and felt less shaky, they began to walk.

Finally, hazy and in the distance, Autumn could see a mass of green before them.  Though the Void clouded it, she thought it looked a little familiar, like she’d been there before. They emerged from the Void and spilled into the grass. Her mother flagged down someone in a strange Loftwing-pulled contraption in the air. He landed and looked at them quizzically. Her mother explained the situation to him, but in a voice so low that Autumn couldn’t tell what language her mother was speaking, so she couldn’t listen for any key phrases. Her mother gestured that Autumn should get in the contraption, and the two of them settled in behind the man who took them up into the sky.

The clouds streaked past in a variety of directions, and Autumn watched, wide-eyed, as the Loftwings carrying the contraption flapped and dipped. She jumped a little every time they passed a chunk of rock in the sky. Suddenly, Autumn saw where they were headed. There was a huge mass of rock floating in the sky, and they were headed straight for the middle of it. Pumpkin patches and a river and houses and stone bridges flew under them, with Autumn leaning over the contraption’s side to watch it all, and then they began to descend. As they touched down, she squealed and clung to her mother. When they were firmly on the land, she bounced out of the contraption and began to walk in a tight circle, looking around, while her mother got out of the contraption more slowly and handed the man flying it a small piece of gold jewelry.

When she came over to Autumn, she bent down, and said to her, “Welcome to Skyloft, where your father was born and lived until Combined Hyrule. And, where Teal lives. Shall we go see her?”

Autumn shrieked excitedly. “Yeah! And Cormorant, too!”

“Of course, Cormorant too.” She replied, taking Autumn’s hand and leading her onto the path across the island. “Now if I remember correctly, Pipit and Karane live in the pink house just across the bridge…” the two of them arrived on the doorstep of the house, and Autumn reached out to knock. A small, scratched up red-haired boy opened the door and peered around it, then a large smile grew on his face.

“Hi, Autumn! Hi, Mrs. Skychild.”

Autumn’s mother opened her mouth to protest, since she had never been Mrs. Skychild, or really, Mrs. Anything. But what would she have him call her instead? She shut it again. “Hello, Cormorant. Are your parents in?” He nodded quickly, still smiling. “Great. Can you take me to them, and then maybe bring Autumn to the Loftwing pen, so she can see Teal? It’s been much too long for those two to be apart.” He nodded again, opening the door wider so they could come in, then told Autumn to follow him. She turned to wave goodbye to her mother, then followed Cormorant out the door and up over the hill the house was built into, to head towards the tract of land that was being used as a Loftwing farm.

Her mother, though, went further into the house, where Pipit and Karane, Cormorant’s parents—friends of both her and Autumn’s father—were seated at the table. She took a moment to shake the dust off her shoes at the door, though, and cleared her throat to announce her presence.

But having heard Cormorant’s excited shouts and the voices at the door, Pipit and Karane knew that Autumn and her mother were around Skyloft now, and had just set a place at the table for everyone, even though just the adults would be sitting there for a while.

Autumn was tripping over her words and the seams of the grass on the path as she tried to relay the last year or so to Cormorant in a short time. She had just gotten to the part about accidentally stabbing her trainer in the foot when she heard a familiar call. She ran over to the wooden pen, where Teal was, flapping her wings and shrieking. She clambered to get her feet onto the fence and support herself on the edge of a fencepost, reaching up one hand to stroke Teal’s beak. Neither she nor Cormorant spoke a word while she flexed her fingers in and out of the feathers atop Teal’s head.  

Once she’s had her moment, Cormorant asked her if she wanted to take Teal out for a ride. She nodded her head excitedly and led Teal out of the pen by holding onto the thin rope collar around her neck while Cormorant went to get Teal’s “real” collar. He decided that he would give it to Autumn when she came back. The rope would do fine for Teal’s first flight with a rider— her first in a long time, anyway. And he was sure that Autumn could still fly Teal okay with just the rope anyway. They still hadn’t taken off yet when he came back. Autumn was just standing there, stroking Teal.

“Are you going to fly, or just stare?” Cormorant called out.

“I’m going, Como!” Autumn called back.

“Don’t call me Como!” he shouted as Autumn dove off the wooden dock, screaming in joy as Teal swooped up to catch her. He sat at the edge of the island and watched them dip and soar, occasionally hearing Autumn calling out to Teal, or to other children flying around, though she didn’t know any of them by name.

Karane gasped. “So you spent time in jail?”

“Technically. It wasn’t… It was part of a different legal system, and it was for irritating the crown prince, so it wasn’t like I really committed a crime.”

“Well, what did you do?” Karane asked. Then she backed down. “… If you want to say.”

Autumn’s mother put down her cup of pumpkin cider. “Well, there was the fact that I was telling people about the other worlds through the barriers of the Void, which sounded pretty wild and blasphemous to them, and then there was the fact that I was flirting with one of the courtiers, one that the prince happened to like a lot.”

Karane and Pipit both knit their brows. “A lady, or…”

“Oh, no. I got the impression that the prince was very happy with his soon-to-be-wife. But for whatever reason, he was very possessive over the man I was flirting with, so I was much more likely to get caught doing other things. Which is exactly what happened.” Autumn’s mother took another sip of cider.

Pipit piped up this time. “And what was it like?”

“It wasn’t horrible. Cold, mostly. And lonely without the courtier or Autumn for company. But I was so good that it frustrated him. It got to a point that the prince just sent someone to tell me to pack everything I had to my name and he had me dropped off outside the Void border, you know, since I had such intimate knowledge of the lands outside.”

The couple nodded. “Where was Autumn during all of this?”

“I left her with some friends of a friend of mine. She was far enough removed from the places that Chance would look, so I figured it was safe. I would have brought her here, but I was afraid that it was too obvious. And there was the risk of Sky visiting and finding her here.”

Pipit leaned forward in his chair. “Would that have been a problem?”

“I don’t think she would be at any risk from Sky, I just don’t think he would want to come here to see his friends, and find his daughter.”

“Well, we’re your friends too, and Autumn and Cormorant have been friends since they could walk, or at least since Autumn started riding Teal. She would have every reason to be here.” Karane asserted.

Autumn’s mother shrugged. “Well, she’s here now.”

At that moment, a wind kicked up outside the house, and Teal, with Autumn astride her, touched down outside the door. Cormorant soon joined her, handing her a collar for Teal.

Their parents could just make out what they were saying outside.

“I’m sorry the collar doesn’t match your belt. I know it does for most people…” he mumbled, handing her the soft reddish leather.

“It’s okay, Cormorant. It’s still really pretty. It’ll look good on her. Did your mom dye the leather?” He nodded as Autumn turned to Teal to fasten the collar around her neck and run her hand between it and the feathers, making sure it wouldn’t catch. She patted Teal’s neck and then hugged Cormorant. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

Then the two of them went in to the house and washed their hands for dinner.

That night, Autumn and her mother slept in Cormorant’s bed, while he slept on a few folded blankets next to his parents’ bed. Autumn and her mother both protested, insisting that they be the ones to sleep on the blankets, but the family insisted, so the two of them finally crawled into Cormorant’s bed.  They had to admit, they were a little bit glad that they had finally given in, because they liked being able to sleep in an actual bed for once, even if it was that of an eight-year-old boy.

The fact that Cormorant was able to curl up on a bunch of piled up blankets right next to both of his parents saddened Autumn, though, if she was honest. She spent the time before she fell asleep staring at him, and the whorl of hair at the nape of his neck, while he breathed peacefully. Her mother had fallen asleep a few moments ago, so Autumn didn’t even have her mother’s touch on her back, rubbing it in the hopes of lulling her to sleep first. She thought, a little bitterly, about how Cormorant had both parents, a house, and he got to see Teal every day. He had everything she wanted, and everything she’d had until she’d gotten kicked out.

Her mother had never told her about the dream that had started this all, just that she had woken up in tears from a dream of Chance, and when she told Autumn’s father, he said he agreed with Chance, that maybe it would be better if she and Autumn left. So when Autumn woke up that morning, her mother said very little but that they had to go. Just like she had said multiple times since then.  It was beginning to frustrate Autumn. She wanted to go home. Olive missed her. She missed Olive. And her uncles. And even her dad, a little bit, even though her mom was mad at him, and Autumn herself was sad that he had kicked her out as simple as pulling a feather out of his clothes. He must have loved her at one point, right? Right?  Autumn had heard the stories so many times, that her dad always loved to hold her and they would take naps together and… and they were a family.

And why couldn’t they just live with Cormorant and his parents? Because her mother didn’t want to impose or take advantage of their giving, that’s why. But it wasn’t fair.

She probably could have stayed awake all night ruminating on all of that, but the flight on Teal earlier had been probably the longest she had ever taken, and it had certainly been a very long while since the last time she had even been on a Loftwing, so she was more than exhausted, and fell deep asleep soon after she had thought “it’s not fair.”

The next morning, she resolved that she was going to see Olive, her uncles, and her dad. So she climbed onto Teal, told her mother she was going flying, and set off for Combined Hyrule, below the clouds.

The house she had lived in was the only one in the area, so it was very easy to find it, even from high in the sky.  She decided to bring Teal down a little bit away from the house though, so there would be no warning of her approach. She wasn’t trying to scare them, but she wanted her arrival to be a surprise. She hoped it would be a good one.

She nervously staggered up to the house and knocked, one rap and two quickly right after, just like she would have to be let in after a day of playing outside with Olive.

The latch on the door clicked, and she swallowed, preparing herself to look up into the face of whomever it was that opened the door.

There was a shocked gasp of recognition. “Autumn! What are you doing here?”

She tried to hold back a sob and hugged her uncle Twilight’s hips. He immediately dropped his hand from the door and laid it on her back. “Shh, it’s okay. Why are you here?”

“I missed you guys. I wanted to come back.” She said, choking on the words because her throat was so dry from holding back the sounds she wanted to make. She wanted to scream in pain and cry like she probably did when she was little, and the way her uncle was behaving, so sweet and kind, wasn’t helping at all.  But then again, neither was the fact that more people were coming.

Her other uncle, Time, was approaching quickly, with Olive on his hip. He seemed a little surprised to see her there, clinging to his husband’s hips and probably all red in the face. He let out a quiet “…oh.” while he let a five-year-old Olive down from his hip. She quickly ran over to Autumn, giggling excitedly and pulling on her sleeve. Autumn took a second to wrap one arm around Olive, for just a second. Then the part that Autumn most wanted and was most afraid of happened—she could see her father coming down the hallway, the same hallway that she had run down so often, many times running to him.  The hallway was darker than she remembered. She looked down it and saw that her father had changed the curtains over the large window in his room, at the end of the hall. Instead of the gauzy blue curtains she was used to, there was a heavier, darker blue material with red edging blocking the light.

As she stared down the hall behind her father, Twilight—whose hips she was still attached to—gently unlatched her arms and picked up Olive. “Well, here’s your dad, Autumn. Sky, your daughter is here.”

“I can see that.” he replied, looking at her a little cautiously. “Autumn, is your mom here, too?”

“No, Dad. It’s just me.” She replied, trying not to shake. She wasn’t sure why she even felt so shaky. She wasn’t afraid of her dad. She loved him. He had never been mean to her or her mother. At least, not… purposely. She remembered what her mother had written in her letter from this house and tried to blink it away before it showed on her face and someone reacted to her expression.

Autumn looked up as her dad knelt down to look her in the eyes. It almost hurt him to keep eye contact, both because the already intense green-blue color of them was only amplified by the fat tears glistening at the corners, and because Autumn looked completely broken and lost. “Autumn… are you okay? Is your mom okay? Did something happen?”

She took a big breath. “Mama’s fine. I’m okay. I just missed you and I wanted to come back. I just wanted to say hi and I’m sorry. If you talk to Chance like Mama does, tell her I didn’t mean to ruin whatever was going on with you and Mama.”

“Autumn, your mom and I—look, you don’t have to worry about it. But I accept your apology. Even though it wasn’t your fault.” He leaned in and hugged her, then kissed her forehead. “And I love you. You can come back and visit any time if you wanted, and in fact, you could bring your mom, but I don’t know if she’d want to come back. And I just think that this isn’t the place for either of you, at least not anymore.” He hugged her again, even tighter than before. “But I like your mother, and I love you. I always have.” He straightened up. “Now, I think you’d better get back to your mom; I know you didn’t tell her where you went.”

Autumn let the soft fabric of his shirt slip through her fingers slowly, then dropped her hands to her sides, looking up at him and letting the hot tears slip from the edges of her eyes. More surfaced as the pressure was relieved. She nodded solemnly, wiping at her nose, then the tears under her chin.

“Can I say goodbye?”

“It’s not goodbye, Autumn, it’s ‘until next time.’”

She nodded again, then went back to hug her uncles—who each kissed her—and Olive, and whisper into the shell of Olive’s ear, “I’ll come back and we can play and fly and hunt for bugs or anything you want, okay?” Olive let out a puppy-like whine, and Autumn hugged her again, tighter. “I promise.”

Then Autumn headed out, whistling for Teal. She started to fly home, and let herself cry until she reached the clouds. All she could think about was how before, her dad had smelled like leather and grass, and she had always associated his scent with flying. But now he smelled too clean, and sort of lemon-y.

Once she had lined herself up to land, she let Teal take over setting down and frantically wiped at her eyes. Once they had stopped moving, she slid off Teal’s back and began petting her, and took the time to massage some of Teal’s muscles, especially those for flight and that were bearing Autumn’s weight.  Then she lay down on the patch of grass and sighed. Teal stood over her, looking down quizzically.

“I’m not pushing you too hard, making you fly for so long yesterday and then go all the way down to the Surface, carrying me all those times, right?” she breathed, reaching up towards Teal’s neck. Teal crouched down, laying her head on Autumn’s stomach, both in consolation and in order to get her head scratched some more. “Okay, I guess not, then.” Autumn continued.

That night, Autumn lay on the pile of blankets, with Cormorant on his own pile next to her, since he insisted that she and her mother could keep using the bed for as long as they were staying in the house. But Autumn didn’t want to sleep in Cormorant’s bed.  She pulled the blankets closer, enjoying the scent of the pumpkins and grass and everything that just made it smell like home to her. It was soft and warm, and she liked the scent of Skyloft on them from how Karane dried them outside in the breeze…

Her train of thought was disrupted by Cormorant tapping her and whispering “Are you cold? Do you need another blanket?” Autumn just shook her head and told him to go back to sleep, and fell asleep soon after.

The next morning, Autumn and her mother gathered up what they had, and they prepared to set off through the Void again. Her mother had remembered some people she could call on, so they were headed there next. But before they went, Autumn’s mother and Pipit tried to figure out a way to transmit messages, and whether or not letters could be sent without using the way Autumn’s mother had before. Pipit told them that it wasn’t likely that anyone would find another way to get letters to them unless they were in Hyrule, but he was fairly sure that they two could get letters to Hyrule, and they could just use the post offices as a base for leaving letters and picking up messages, as long as he sent Teal back and forth with the letters, and they came to check their mailbox fairly frequently. So he and her mother agreed to that, and then she took Autumn’s hand and they climbed atop Teal and took off for the Void nearer to the ground.

When Teal dropped them as close to the Void as she could, Autumn took a moment to press her forehead into Teal’s feathers, run her fingers along the collar signifying that Teal had a rider, and to slip a note into a letter-carrying tube that Pipit had strapped to Teal’s leg before Autumn left, for any direct messages to him and his family, as long as it was from within Hyrule.

She sighed as she reread it again, making sure it said everything she need it to:  please take good care of her. make sure that she doesn’t pull a muscle. I’ll come see her real soon. –A, and a drawing of a Skyhorse. She nodded, slipping the note away and walking off towards the Void.  

She and her mother walked for what felt like days, seeing nothing in front of or behind them, but finally they stumbled into a dingy-looking city.  Her mother squinted at the maps along the highways and streets, and led her along the edges of them, occasionally walking only where the streetlights were brightest, and sometimes taking the time to run her hands through the hair of children asleep in alleys.

“Mama, why are they here?”

“They’re sick. No one can take care of them.”

“Aren’t you scared of getting sick?”

“I can’t get sick like this. There are a lot of illnesses like this everywhere, but I can’t catch them here. I can’t catch them anywhere anymore. I can touch these guys.”

“Mama?” Autumn hung back, kicking at the ground at the edge of the alley as her mother knelt next to a boy who didn’t look much older than Autumn was, wiping a tear from his eye and stroking his cheek, careful to avoid a dark blue bruise.

“I’m sorry. We’ll keep going now.”

They spent a few nights in a church that was breaking down and full of flowers, after her mother had done some pleading and recalling of some favors done for the woman who let them stay there.  The first night, as Autumn was settling into the bed of flowers and looking up at the sky through the ceiling and trying to find at least one familiar constellation, her mother grumbled, “well at least the cats aren’t here.” Autumn rolled over to look at her mother.

“Why?”

“Lilies kill cats.” Autumn mumbled “oh” at this new and kind of scary information. She thought of all seven cats at home—well it wasn’t home anymore, really—and how one little lily, such pretty flowers and so soft, could have killed them instantly. It was frightening. She wondered if there were any plants that would do that to Loftwings.

The next day, her mother took her to a farm just outside the city, the two of them riding on her mother’s friend’s boyfriend’s motorcycle.  Autumn was surprised to find that the farm was one for what her mother said translated to Hylian as “avian mounts”. She couldn’t pronounce their English name, but she had an easier time saying the equivalent in Hylian. They were basically, the way her mother explained it, just like Loftwings, except that they didn’t fly. After finding this out, Autumn was fascinated by them, and spent all day out there looking at the pen, wishing she could ride one. She was told she couldn’t since she didn’t have proper training. She tried to protest, saying that she knew how to handle birds since she had a Loftwing. The farmer still wouldn’t let her.

That night, she was still thinking about all the pets she had had, but especially the ones her mother hadn’t even acknowledged leaving behind.

“Hey, Mama?”

“Yes, Autumn?”

“What happened to Rosie and Ciela?”

Autumn’s mother laughed at remembering her guinea pigs.  “I guess your uncle is taking care of them now. I kind of hope your dad is. That way we both gave each other something the receiver didn’t know what to do with, and we each got to keep the gift.”

Autumn’s face fell. “You didn’t want the guinea pigs?”. She paused, then asked, “Why wouldn’t Dad know what to do?”

Her mother chuckled nervously, aware of what she had implied, but not meant. “I wanted the guinea pigs, I suppose. He gave them to me for Valentine’s Day. I had been praying to Chance for something different; a ring, maybe. But oh, well.  And to answer your question, I don’t know. There was a time—there were a few times—where I was close to miscarrying, partially because I was young, partially due to some other things. He probably would have been less heartbroken than I would have been. You have always been more mine than his. All you have of him is the Triforce and his ears, after all.” She laughed dryly. “By the time you were born, he was completely convinced that you were cursed. Too many bad things had happened while I was pregnant with you. I’m not going to explain all the details right now, but I spent some time in the Demon Realm, we did a lot of Void-exploitative travel – even though we didn’t know that was what it was at the time—I messed around with magic trying to help a friend, I planned your uncles’ wedding… I was under a lot of stress. And it endangered you quite a bit, simply put. It’s why you were born early. But even then, even though I felt that I had to do all this stuff that was bad for me and bad for you, even when your dad and I had different ideas about what having a kid would mean for us, I wanted you.” She leaned over and held Autumn close. “I always have.  I was just as excited about finding out that I was expecting as I was scared, unwed and pregnant in a foreign place after having been with your dad for a month.”

She stroked Autumn’s hair once, then let her go again. “The day I woke up from the dream about you, and about Chance kicking me out—and it was only me originally, she wanted me to leave you with your dad and just get myself out of Hyrule—I woke up in a panic because I was worried about you. And your dad… didn’t react how I hoped he would.  I woke him up, and he was sympathetic to my fear, but when I told him that I was scared for your sake, all he said was that he didn’t have the time or energy to fight me over this, and he wouldn’t make me stay, that if I thought it was safer for you to get you out of there, and I was already unwelcome, to just take you and go. And then he rolled over to go back to sleep. So, I started packing, and he went into your room when I did, and then you know how it went after I called for you.” Her mother slouched back, crossing her arms. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Most eight-year-olds don’t live like this, wandering vagrants in a world so cruel.”

The next day, they packed up their stuff and left the little church. Autumn poured a small jar of Lake Hylia water over the lilies, and waited outside, talking to the boy her mother had comforted before, recognizing him by the bruise, while her mother went into the bar to pay her friend for the nights in the church. Finally, they re-entered The Void. It had only been a few days, but Autumn’s mother made them walk all the way back to Hyrule to check the mail. It was a good thing she did, because it seemed like it had been longer in Hyrule—a week, maybe two—and there were a few letters and one small package. She handed Autumn the letters to hold, and opened the small package, printed with the seal of one of the Queens Zelda in one of these Hyrules.  Autumn looked a little closer to see that it was “Hyrule’s Warrior” Zelda (as they called her) who had sent them this package.  The short letter read:

“I’ve heard rumors about where you’ve been and the chase you’ve been going through, and I wanted to make sure that you were taking care of yourself. I know that a bath can make you feel much better, no matter the situation, so I enclosed some soap. I took it from “Scarfy,” one of my knights, on his last visit to my castle. He lives elsewhere now. In any case, he always smells so nice. I thought you might appreciate the soap.

Hoping you’re well, Zelda”

Autumn’s mother smiled a little, and took Autumn to the lake, behind a little copse of trees, and washed her own hair, then gave the soap to Autumn to clean up. When Autumn was all washed and dried off, the two of them began to walk again, until Autumn squinted suspiciously, pulled a lock of her thick blonde hair to her nose and took a quick sniff.

It smelled of lemon, just like her dad did now. The next time she saw a hill, she rolled down it, making sure to get grass in her hair, much to her mother’s chagrin.  She thought about how her uncle had asked her mother about smelling like fish once she started spending so much time at the lake, but Autumn decided that lake water and fish would smell so much better on her than that lemony reminder of everything that had happened to her so far.

She would rather smell like the licorice tea she had with the Slicks. Or maybe the sand and saltwater from the place where The Man from the Lake lived, or the lilies in the church, but most of all, she wanted to smell like grass or Skyloft. They smelled the most like home.

_

There was a constant rumble that seemed to follow them everywhere they went. When they walked, when they worked, rain or shine, there was a rumble like a thunderstorm was rolling in. Her mother ignored it, or at least looked like she did. Autumn was never able to, nor could she tune out the whispers at the very edge of being distinguishable.  They called to her, but that was all she could hear consistently. Other times, she heard were things like “chosen child, and child of the chosen one” and “broken family in a broken world,” but those were rare, so rare that if she did hear them, she couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

One night, the pair spent in a field—Autumn couldn’t remember where exactly—and tossed and turned all night instead of sleeping, because the rumbling was so loud, it shook the ground.

The shaking was getting worse and worse, until Autumn couldn’t even lie down anymore. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, and watched the horizon. The soap-bubbles of the Void looked like they were at a rolling boil, and the whispers were very distinct. It was, like always, mostly her name, but now “Heroine” was thrown around just as much as “Chosen”. She shook as the sky flashed and there was a deafening rumble, knocking her over. She sat up again just in time to see that the land where the Void boiled had split, and she heard one last hiss before her mother scooped her up and began singing softly, but directly, into Autumn’s ear to drown out any other sound.

But it was too late; both Autumn and her mother had heard the voice hiss “Arbiter’s Mistake.”