#why can’t she have a moment of inspiration and then imbede that into her personal story and ambitions instead of making everything about him

[legendoftherisingtide]

why did the anime and the fandom reduce uraraka to just being in love with deku??

the recent chapters have truly made me fall in love with her character but im watching the anime and everything is so,, like it’s honestly whiplash

every pivotal moment for her character is because she likes deku. I loved the scene of her jumping to save him and it flashed to her family and her newfound motives. I loved to see her character being more than Deku. I loved that growth and though I was disappointed when it started mentioning Deku, I realized he was important to her growing and who she is as a person. (Although I love the manga for expanding her character past her admiration for him)

And the moment they had together as they fell was genuinely touching,, there was no blushing, no over the top crush, it was real concern and care. I loved it. It made me forget all of the obnoxious belittling of her character and made me realize that they can be together without force. It was so simple and meaningful.

The anime can make jokes that don’t include uraraka blushing! They can write an interaction between these two that shows not tells. Her immediately rushing to calm him down because she knew he lost control. The way she slapped him like how she saved him in the entrance exam and then asked if it hurt. The soft smile on her face when she asked if he was okay. The way she holds him steady as he stumbles to get footing.

It’s all so subtle. And it’s so refreshing after so much insufferable time the anime puts into pointing and screaming Uraraka likes Deku. Gosh it’s such a good moment aaa

But then it went back to cheapening her character and continuing to push her towards this arc of mundanity. She wants to be a hero that helps people!!! LET HER BE THAT!! goodness gracious stop making every single thing she does go back to deku. STOP CIRCLING BACK TO WHERE SHE STARTED ANIME PLEASEEEE

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Realizations... (pt. 1)

—————

"I am proud of your chosen, Tikki."

Wayzz said in a calm voice. "She took in the responsibility of being a heroine exchange for her time in her civilian life, and now, she chose to carry the heavy responsibility of a Guardian even though she can refuse it and pass it to someone else, leaving everything behind."

The other kwamis nodded at the wise turtle kwami's words. Tikki looked at them and smiled.

"I'm proud of my bug. She's a worthy ladybug and had shown how worthy she is despite her flaws. She made mistakes, but she chose to fix them. And now she's healing from the toxicity she had received in that place. Sleep well, Marinette..."

— previous chapter... —

The Akuma Class was experiencing an unknown change. And they don't know the exact reason.

It's been two weeks since Marinette hasn't been coming to class.

The first day, Alya thought she was just late or have an errand to run during the morning and will come to class after lunch, but it didn't happen. After classes were done, she tried calling her, only to be redirected to her voicemail immediately. Not knowing her 'best friend' had bought a new phone and uses a new number. She was slightly sour thinking that Marinette is being stubborn in hanging out with Lila, and chose to reprimand her for letting her jealousy get in between a possible friendship with the girl.

The others didn't notice how Adrien was down during the rest of that day. They didn't notice Chloé having a slightly pained look in her eyes.

She was slightly angry that Dupain-Cheng easily gave up in exposing the liar, but it's not like she helped the girl. She had no right to be angry about how Dupain-Cheng chose to move on with life. When she saw her being surrounded by people she didn't know and was walking towards a table, she stared for a moment. Chloé hasn't heard her laugh for a while, the bubbly aura around the girl was fading when she was in Dupont.

Chloé hated to admit it, but she envied the ravenette. Dupain-Cheng having a happy family, while her own mother left them to go to New York for work when she was a child, creating a drift between their relationship. Her own father didn't hang out with her anymore due to his duties being the City's Mayor. Dupain-Cheng gained friends while she was being hated for being a bully who always annoys others and uses her triumph card when she gets in trouble.

She was staring at the raventte's table with a melancholic look. The girl was happy, and Chloé couldn't deny it. Part of her wants to convince Dupain-Cheng to go back to Dupont and defeat the vixen but she didn't want to be selfish for once.

After lunch period she came back to class and grabbed Sabrina's attention, and told her to come with her after class.

The two are in Chloé's bedroom in Le Grand Paris.

"I'm sorry..."

Sabrina was startled to hear such sincere words coming from the person she knew could be very bratty for a long time.

"I'm sorry that I treated you like a servant. And that I made you take some of the consequences from my actions. I want to justify it by letting people know that I lost a mother figure from my childhood and didn't teach me proper manners and that she is very bossy, and that I tried to fit in with her. But I know I can't... There are people around me that could've inspired me to be a better person, like Dup-Marinette..."

When Sabrina heard the name she was about to retaliate but Chloé didn't give her a chance.

"No, Sabrina. She's right. I grew up with people who lie about their backgrounds just to fit in with society. Everything can be searched on the internet Sabrina. I know your smart, use it and prove to me right now that you, defending that Liar is a good thing."

Sabrina stared at Chloé, she was growing nervous, Chloé rarely helps around class problems, and for her to defend the person she has been ridiculing for a long time is strange. So Sabrina did it, she searched.

She sat there, appalled and disappointed, after that there are no articles about a Lila Rossi aside from the girl's interviews in the Ladyblog. Chloé left her to go to her balcony and leaned on the railing. Sabrina ran up to her.

"Chloé we need to let everyone know about this! Maybe we can help Marinette expose her? Collect evidence? Contact her mother? We can help Marinette gain back her reputation and her friends! We can—" Sabrina rambled.

"It's too late, Sabrina..." Chloé said that made Sabrina stop rambling and just stared at her in confusion.

"I saw her. She moved on. Marinette was wearing a uniform from a different school. Marinette gave up, Sabrina, she gave up on trying to protect her so-called friends after being dismissed. You should've seen her, she was so happy, something we— I haven't seen for a while..."

That statement made Sabrina tearful. Staring at nothing, she started remembering glimpses of the ravenette.

She remembered the time that when she looks in Marinette's direction, she was so dull. Like a doll— a Marionette, not reacting to how her sketchbook was torn apart, how her dull bluebell eyes stare at Mlle Bustier when she is talking to her, how she doesn't react when their classmates are attacking her for bullying Lila. Sabrina finally realizes how she treated someone like that without proof. Her own father imbedded to her that 'innocent until proven guilty', yet she didn't even try to see both perspectives and just went along with the class.

Her actions are much worse than how Chloé acted.

"I'll give Marinette credit. That liar tried to break her, but she broke free and spread her wings without looking back, and saved herself."

Sabrina nodded at Chloé's statement while copying the girl's position of leaning on the balcony rails, looking out to Paris.

—————

Juleka Couffaine, the Akuma Class' resident shy goth girl.

When she first met Lila Rossi, she was skeptical, her brother is a fan of Jagged Stone, and when she heard Lila say that she saved Jagged's kitten on an airplane runway was very sketchy for Juleka.

Before she knew it, Marinette became a pariah. She often denies becoming an accomplice due to her neutrality to the problem. When Marinette didn't arrive Monday morning, she was worried. The girl who pleaded to the photographer to take another class photo with her in it, to break her 'photo curse', is absent.

She tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She was currently sitting on her bed and her brother strumming his guitar. He notices how she was just staring at her phone in a daze.

"Hey, Luka... does Jagged had a pet cat in his life?" Juleka asks looking up to her brother.

Luka was surprised by the question, "As far as I know, he didn't have one. Due to him being allergic and the cat not being rock-and-roll enough. Why?"

Luka was shocked when Juleka started tearing up, he immediately puts his guitar down to comfort her baby sister.

"I messed up, Luka... I badly messed up..."

After calming down a little, Juleka finally explained to him why she was crying. She explained that the new girl in her class made Juleka skeptical about her, and then about Marinette's supposed 'cheating', 'stealing', and 'assault', she then talked about how Marinette kept accusing the new girl of lying but no one believing her, and that soon Marinette became a pariah in their class. Juleka told them about all the lies that Rossi has said.

Overall, Luka was disappointed in her.

"You said that Marinette tried to expose her right? Why didn't you back her up, as a friend would do? Isn't she also your friend? Why didn't you voice out your concern about this to Marinette? or to me?"

Luka sighed, before backing away from his sister. 

"You said your class hates Chloé for being a bully, but aren't they acting like a bully? Your class, isolated Marinette. I don't know how she managed it. But right now, it might be too late to act, Jules. At the very least, try and fix your mistake..." Luka said before leaving her alone for a moment, and let her think.

Meanwhile, Rose's phone suddenly pinged due to a notification. When she checked it out it was a message from Juleka.

Juleka:  Hey, uhm...

Juleka: Can you do me a favour? Please?

Rose:  Sure! What is it?

Juleka: Please trust me on this... can you ask Prince Ali about his environmental charities and if he knows a certain 'Lila Rossi'?

Rose:  Juleka? Why?

Juleka: Please... please ask him...

Rose was confused by Juleka's request, if she thought about it she was asking just like Marinette did months ago. But Rose decided to shake that thought out of her head, she knew Juleka was not a bully, like Marinette and how she bullies Lila.

Rose decided to trust Juleka and messaged him.

Rose: Hello, Ali! Can I ask a question? A friend of mine, wants to know about your environmental charities with Lila Rossi, I think it's for a project. Thank you! <3

She didn't know why but she felt nervous sending that message. She shrugged it off and put the phone down to continue her scrapbooking. She waited for a few minutes before she heard another notification sound from her phone. And when she read the message, she froze.

Prince Ali: Hello, Rose! I'm sorry, but I only do children charities since the Royal Family doesn't control the environemental ones, it is mostly done by Achu's government, and sorry to disappoint but I do not know a Lila Rossi. Is she a new friend of yours?

Rose was too frozen to not even notice that she had dropped her phone. She kept looking in her hand as if it was all just a dream. That Prince Ali did know Lila Rossi, but when she picked her phone back up and read the text once again, it said the same thing.

'This can't be happening! If this is true... then I bullied Marinette for no reason!'

Rose: Oh! I'm... sorry for my misinformation... Lila's a... classmate of mine. Sorry for the trouble...

Rose didn't notice the tears dripping from her eyes.

She was numb. She couldn't deny this information, it is a direct reply from the Prince of Achu. That he— Prince Ali, doesn't know someone named Lila Rossi. She was lied to. Lila Rossi lied to me. She thought.

And Marinette asked you to ask him months ago, didn't she? She tried to warn you... You didn't listen to her!

There was a sudden voice in the back of her mind, how she ridiculed Marinette for bullying Lila. But it was all a lie. She treated Marinette horribly for a lie...

She hurriedly opened her internet browser and searched for any of Lila's accomplishments only to see a bunch of interviews from the Ladyblog, nowhere else.

Rose: Prince Ali... doesn't do environmental charities, he only does children charities and... he doesn't know a Lila Rossi.

Juleka: ... I'm sorry, Rose.

Juleka: I only realized my mistake after talking to Luka, I'm sorry if I didn't voice out when I was skeptical about her in the beginning...

Rose: She lied... She lied!

Rose: I can't believe her! We treated her as a friend!

Juleka: Rose, please calm down! I don't want you to become an akuma! Please!

Seeing that message she tried so hard to calm down. Juleka was right, she doesn't want Shadowmoth to turn her into an Akuma! She needed to calm down.

After calming down, she messaged Marinette, but there was no reply, then she finally noticed that Marinette wasn't present during class that day. So she tried calling but was sent to voicemail immediately. She tried calling a few times before she stopped.

She'll just talk to her tomorrow, but that didn't happen... and it has been two weeks...

—————

Adrien Agreste was in denial.

He didn't want to believe that Marinette really did transfer schools. He wanted to visit her as Chat, but since he hasn't seen his kwami, he can't transform. And he's growing worried every second. No Plagg, no Akuma, and no Marinette...

His worrisome state affected his fencing classes. He was always immediately defeated by Kagami Tsurugi. She was displeased that he became a wimp in fencing.

"What made you so distracted lately? That's not like you Agreste." Kagami said.

"Nothing... I'm just worried about Marinette, she hasn't been in class lately, and it's been two weeks!" Adrien replied.

What Adrien said, made Kagami's brow shot up, in confusion. She had talked to Marinette one time, and she had shared that she transferred schools, and has been doing well. She also found out about the 'Lila situation' in Dupont and was very angry that Adrien Agreste knew but didn't say anything. It took a whole lot of Marinette's energy to stop Kagami from attacking Agreste with her sword or using her mother's sword!

"Haven't you heard?" Kagami asked.

"Heard what? You've talked to Marinette?!" Adrien asked enthusiastically.

"Yes. She had transferred schools due to unfortunate situations here in Dupont." Kagami answered before walking towards the locker rooms.

Adrien ran up towards her, held her shoulders and made her face him. "You're kidding right?! Marinette is still a student here! She'll come back here!"

Kagami stared at him in bewilderment.

"I-I gotta go... Bye Kagami..." Adrien said.

Kagami can only stare at the boy's retreating back. From Kagami's perspective, she thinks that Agreste was in denial of Marinette transferring schools. He was also oblivious to the aspiring designer's feelings. But this was different... The way he tries to convince himself that Marinette still goes to Dupont is unsettling.

It's as if, he was supposed to have control over her life. It made Kagami's instinct more unsettled.

Adrien was pacing around his room after he got home from fencing classes. He was becoming more nervous by the second.

He tried looking for her social media accounts only to find none of it exists, he swore that he followed her socials.

Even Nathalie noticed how jittery the young Agreste was, she tried finding out the reason why, but couldn't pinpoint it due to being sidetracked.

The peacock miraculous was missing from the safe, and Gabriel Agreste was furious! He already lost the Grimoire book, the previous Guardians' tablet and now the fixed peacock miraculous. They reviewed the footage from his security cameras, and found nothing!

This made him sidetracked about his supervillain duties, he ignored the past powerful emotions the brooch felt, in exchange to search the whole mansion about the missing items of his. Adrien was no help.

Gabriel calmed down for a second and felt a negative emotion to vent and try to find out if Ladybug got the peacock miraculous.

When he found one, he informed Nathalie about privacy and went to his lair. he transformed to Hawkmoth once again due to the lack of the peacock miraculous.

"Ah, the agonizing pain of experiencing a heartbreak..."

A butterfly flew and rested in his palm, while he fills it with negative power. Once he is done he opened his palm and lets the Akuma flap its wings.

"Fly away, my little Akuma, and evilize this brokenhearted woman!"

The Akuma made its way towards a crying woman near the Seine, wearing a wedding dress. It landed on her headpiece.

"Enchanttréx, I am Hawkmoth. You've been betrayed by the person your loved one, I'm giving you the power to expose any secrets that were chosen to be hidden away from the world. In return, you will bring me ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, Hawkmoth."

The purple substance covered the woman in a wedding dress, and when it was gone it left a woman, who has an intricate gold flower-themed headpiece, long black hair that reaches up to her mid-back, a flowy white to black gradient dress, gold strapped heels, white laced gloves that reach up to her forearm and a veil in front of her face.

"It's time to let yourself free from your secrets!" Enchanttréx exclaimed making the nearby Parisians run away in fear and alerting the heroes.

Chapter 5 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 7 

[betweensceneswriter]

Stuck in the Classics-Chapter 12: Laird of Lallybroch

The Basics: All I did was watch DVDs to relax in the evening.  How did I suddenly end up in the 17th and 18th centuries?  How do I get out of here?  And what if I don’t want to leave?

Various Fandoms–Pride & Prejudice, Emma, Outlander, Sense & Sensibility, Turn.

The Whole Thing on AO3

Laird of Lallybroch: Amy discovers that she’s not in Claire’s body--she’s in Jenny’s.  And Jenny is pregnant.

    Now this I did not prepare for, I thought, as I heaved my pregnant self through the opening in the wall and began wending my way through the gravestones toward Jamie. I could see his head and shoulders towering above the massive stones, and for a moment I considered silently exiting the cemetery and buying time to recall the conversation between Jenny and Jamie.

    He wouldn’t stay here forever, though, and I thought I could probably wing it.  As I approached Jamie, he had his back to me.  I watched as he reached his hand out and rested it on our father’s gravestone.

    You don’t get to be attracted to Jamie on this trip, weirdo, I thought to myself as I tried to wrap my brain around the new scenario.  He’s my brother, he’s my brother, he’s my brother, I chanted inwardly as I approached, admiring the straight strength of his back, the broad span of his shoulders, the curl of his hair, the way the gathers and folds of the kilt emphasized his—hey, now!

    At the sound of my approaching footsteps or perhaps just the wind, Jamie turned slightly.  When he caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision, he jerked, then seemed to be catching his breath as he stood there.

     “Jenny,” he said, his back still to me.  “Ye gave me a start.”

     “Did you expect to see ghosts in the graveyard?” I asked.  He chuckled slightly.  But he wasn’t looking at me.

     “Jamie—I…”

     “Jenny—I…” We spoke at the same time, then stood and just looked at each other in hesitant embarrassment for a second.

     “Let me speak first, please,” he said.  Since I wasn’t quite certain what I would say if I went first, I willingly acquiesced.

    Jamie reached into his pocket and drew out a bag that made a jingling metallic noise as it moved.

     “That’s the rent,” he said, holding it out toward me. “From the tenants.”

     “Thank you, Jamie.” I said, looking at him and then at the bag as I took it from him.  His eyes were penitent and humble.

     “And I thought perhaps I could speak to Rabbie’s aunt, so…”

     “It’s all right,” I responded.  “She can’t really take him on.  This will be a good place for him.”

     “I was wrong not to consult you, and I’m sorry for it,” said Jamie.  “Truly.  I hope to do it different in the future.”

     “And Jamie, I shouldn’t have questioned your judgment on your first rent day as Laird Broch Tuarach.  Especially in front of your wife.”

     “A’graidh,” he responded.  “It was arrogant of me to step in as if you have not been mistress of Lallebroch for the last four years.” Jamie shook his head and I put my hand on his arm to comfort him, but he continued.  “Father died, I was gone, and without hesitation, you took over in our absence.”

    He scanned the horizon, taking in the extent of the rich Fraser lands.  “You have become a capable mistress.  You’ve run the farm and maintained the estate.  If you had not shown such strength and wisdom, Janet, there would have been nothing left for me to be laird of.”

     “Jamie,” I interrupted.  “Now it’s my turn.”

    Despite the contrast between his height and her diminutive size, I could see that Jamie was cowed by his sister.  And though he was the one with red hair, she had a temper to rival his.  He smiled, but showed me that he would wait and listen to me.

    I looked past him to Brian Fraser’s gravestone.  I couldn’t believe I was there, in this place with Jamie.  I moved forward, tracing our father’s name with our fingers.  I began to remember Jenny’s arguments; I began to feel her sadness and guilt and desperation.

     “After you were taken to Fort Williams, and after father died, there were years when I blamed you for his death,” I began quietly.

    Jamie’s blue eyes signaled both his confusion and his concern as tears began to fill my eyes.

    “I heard that Captain Randall had flogged you, and that seeing it is what killed Father.  And I ken you, Jamie.  You fly off the handle at the slightest offense.  You have a way of sayin’ and doin’ things in the heat of passion that you wouldna say or do otherwise.  And I thought surely you must have done something to offend Captain Randall.” Jamie stepped forward, though whether he meant to object to my reasons or to ask forgiveness, I couldn’t tell.

    A sudden flood of images from the show filled my mind, things I often found myself skipping on rewatching because they were just too painful to see.  The deep stripes across Jamie’s back, dripping with blood.  The possessed anger on Black Jack Randall’s face as he sought to break Jamie.  And Brian--Jamie and Jenny’s father--tortured to death by seeing his son in such a state.

     “But Jamie, when I saw the scars on your back, down at the mill pond…what fury would create such scars?  Randall must have been beyond angry.”

    Jamie couldn’t look at me, but he glanced over as he said, “You dinna fash yerself about it anymore.”

    I remembered then that the tug-of-war of this conversation was between two siblings who both felt responsible for their father’s death, and it was my turn to pull.

     “It’s my fault, Jamie.  It’s my fault that Randall beat you thus, and it’s my fault that Father died.”

     “You dinna ken what yer saying,” said Jamie, half in frustration, half in bewildered impotence to stop me.

     “But Jamie, I do.  When he took me upstairs, I humiliated him.  I laughed at him and mocked him.  If I hadna; if I had just let him do what he wanted to do, he wouldna have been so angry, and then father wouldna have. . .”

     “Mo Chridhe, no,” said Jamie, folding me into an embrace, pulling me tight to his body.  “Don’t,” he said, kissing my forehead and patting me on the back.  I could smell him, could feel myself melting into him, and had to calmly remind myself who I was in order to keep from reaching up to his face for a kiss.

     “I did anger Randall at Fort William,” said Jamie.  “And I’ve spent the last four years of my life blaming myself for Father’s death because of it.”

     “But now you know the truth?” I cried, imagining the pain of these two siblings kept apart for years, each blaming themselves for their father’s death.

    Jamie laughed and kissed me on the forehead again.  “Aye, I do.”

    I pulled back from him, and he brushed a loose strand of hair off my forehead.

     “I know it’s not yer fault.  Nor mine, either.  There’s a devil in that man that no one can influence.”  Jamie held me by the shoulders so he could look into my eyes.  “The only one responsible for putting Father’s in his grave. . .” he said seriously, “Is Jack Randall.”

     “Aye?” he said, seeking my agreement.  I nodded.

     “It does trouble me, though,” said Jamie, “Knowing ye went wi’ him to save me.  Knowing he might harm ye.  I would have gladly died to spare yer honor.”

    I mimicked the jut of Jenny’s chin as she responded, riled by Jamie’s reasoning.  “And if your life is a suitable exchange for my honor, tell me why my honor’s not a suitable exchange for your life?”

    Jamie’s face showed he knew he’d already been bested in this competition.  “Or are you trying to tell me that you love me more than I love you, James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser?” I challenged him.  “Because if you are, ye might as well accept that tis not true.”

    He turned and walked away from me, then looked back, shaking his head.

     “I’m glad you’re home, brother,” I said.  Jamie returned to me, hugged me and kissed me on the forehead yet again, and then turned the two of us toward home, his arm around my shoulders.

    It turned out that with Claire’s quick departure from Castle Leoch and the beating she’d received at the time of her trial, her wardrobe was sadly lacking.  And it was Jenny and Mrs. Crook who were tasked with the sewing of the outfits.  I was grateful for my experience with sewing, but very doubtful that machine sewing knowledge would translate to hand sewing.  There was one thing I was thankful for, though, in my younger body.  It was nice to be able to thread a needle without having to use my reading glasses.

    I pulled the masses of fabric up onto my lap and started sewing, praying that I didn’t mess this thing up.

    Claire was looking at my belly pensively.

    I couldn’t decide how I felt about her.  Right now she had my Jamie, and if I recalled the sequence of events, she was going to sleep with him tonight.  But I’d lived in her skin before and I hoped to again, so I couldn’t hate her.

    At least in this situation I could find a natural inspiration for Jenny’s acidic personality.  I felt about as possessive of Jamie as Jenny seemed on Claire’s first appearance at Lallybroch.

     “Jamie says you were married before,” I said.  “No bairns, though?”

    Claire gave a thin-lipped, sad smile.  “No.”

     “Do you want them?”

     “I did, and I would have welcomed them if they came,” said Claire, “But I never longed for them quite as much as Frank—that’s my first husband—did.”

    I had thought to offer her encouragement, but anything I thought of felt empty and wrong.

     “It’s quite an experience, being pregnant,” I said.  “It’s as if alie. . . I mean. . .parasites have taken over your body.  I’m burnin’ up, no matter the temperature in the house.  Saves on fuel, I guess.  Ian doesn’t need to do anything but cuddle up next to me to stay hot at night.”

     “Jamie runs hot all the time!” exclaimed Claire, as if recognizing the family resemblance.

     “You’re right, he does!” I exclaimed in agreement and remembrance.  “It sometimes feels as if he’s got a furnace burnin’ inside him, if he puts his hand on your shoulder.”

    Claire blushed, obviously considering circumstances other than having Jamie’s hands on her shoulders.

     “You may find Jamie just as eager for fatherhood as your first husband,” I suggested, looking back down at my belly.  “The pressure to have an heir is somehow imbedded in Scottish genes.”

    Claire looked at me with surprise, and after a confused paused asked me: “Did you said genes?”

    I suddenly realized I was in the wrong century for referring to genes.  “Ah, yes,” I said, buying time.  “It’s a Gaelic word that means—not sure if I can translate it into English—like a family inheritance?  A value passed on from father to child?”  I had to look away quickly to cover my incredible stress and embarrassment over my slip-up.

    Claire was silent and subdued for the rest of our time sewing.

    After supper, which consisted of cock-a-leekie soup (basically chicken onion soup) and bannocks, Ian and Jamie withdrew to the sitting room with glasses of whiskey.  Claire looked uncomfortable in her stiff corset and dress, and I was certainly ready to get rid of mine.

     “Let’s go change into dressing gowns over our shifts,” I suggested.  “After a long day in a corset, this wee bairn wishes for a little more freedom to move.  And so does his temporary dwelling.”  My back was aching, so I pressed against the hip bones toward the base of my spine.

    Claire and I both reappeared in a few minutes and acknowledged each other with grateful smiles.  I had no idea whether this was appropriate attire for mixed company, but I figured there was safety in numbers.  Fortunately, when Ian and Jamie looked up as we entered the room, they didn’t look scandalized.  In fact, they’d both peeled off their boots and socks and were making themselves comfortable on couches, Ian rubbing the stump of his amputated limb.

    Claire approached Jamie and I could see from the look in his eyes how much he adored her.  She curled up next to him and he quickly folded her in his arms.

    Ian’s face had brightened at the sight of me as well, so I approached the couch where he sat.  He made room for me, and I fit myself into the space next to him with a heavy sigh.

    I was able to clearly see my belly now, but I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on the sensation of the little life inside me, slowly stroking him through my skin, touching the places I could feel his back, his little feet pushing, his tiny bottom.

    Jeff and I had endured years of infertility, and when our second miracle Jason was born, an emergency C-section had traumatized my body enough that my doctor had recommended a hysterectomy.  I had thought I would never experience this sensation again.  I could feel this wee little life pushing back against me, and the sting of tears pricked my eyelids.

    When I opened my eyes, Claire, Jamie, and Ian were all looking at me with concern.

     “Oh,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the handkerchief Ian had magically produced after a squeeze around my shoulders.  “It’s just pregnancy. . .”  I stopped myself before I said the word “hormones.”

    Jamie had sat up and was leaning eagerly toward me.  “Is it no’ amazing, this ability to create human life?”

     “It is indeed,” I agreed.  “What made me shed tears is that I can feel his little body.  Babies tend to move more at night when you are no longer as active.”

    Jamie looked at my belly longingly.  “Will you introduce him to his Uncle Jamie?”

    I well remembered those days when my belly belonged to everyone, so I nodded generously.  Jamie came over and knelt on the floor next to Ian and me on the couch.

    I pressed against my belly, assessing, then reached for Jamie’s hand.  “Here is his back,” I said, helping Jamie move his hand along the firm little spinal column. “And here are his feet,” I proceeded; pressing my fingers to my lower left abdomen, opposite the baby’s back.  Jamie gently offered his hand for me to push into position.

     “I willna hurt him, will I?” he asked.  I shook my head no.  After a moment, Jamie met my eyes with a smile of fresh enthusiasm and a giddy chuckle.  “He kicked me!” he said.  “He’s a braw wee laddie!”

    He gestured to Claire, inviting her over, and soon my belly had yielded its secrets to Jamie, Ian, Claire, and Wee Jamie, who heard our fuss and came over to investigate.

    Wee Jamie had obviously been told about the baby growing inside his mama’s tummy.  When he sat down on Jamie’s lap as Jamie sat on the floor, Wee Jamie reached out and patted my stomach.

    “Talk to da baby, Nunka Jamie,” Wee Jamie ordered.  When Big Jamie looked at him in confusion, the smaller version demonstrated.

    The brown-haired lad cupped his hands around his mouth and planted his lips on my belly between his hands. The contact with my silk-covered skin muffled his words, but we all grinned as he yelled, “Dinna fash, baby.  I’m yer big brother, but they call me Wee Jamie.  Aye?”  He waited, as if expecting a response.  Then he pointed at Jamie.  “And this is yer Nunka Jamie.  He’s the big one.”

    Wee Jamie retreated from my belly, and pushed on Jamie’s arm.

     “Okay Nunka Jamie. It’s you turn,” he ordered.

    Jamie looked up at me, half apologetically.

     “Yes, Nunka Jamie,” I said, smiling at him. “It’s you turn!”

     “Where is his back?” Jamie asked.  I felt again and found the little person was facing my spine, with his little back pressing out hard right next to my belly button. Jamie rubbed the spot as if he was caressing the little one and I was just a quilt keeping him warm.

    Putting his cheek on my belly as his hand still stroked the little one, Jamie crooned words in Gaelic, then ended by saying, “I love ye, Wee Murray, and I’ve not even met ye yet.”  With a blushing glance up at me, he leaned in to kiss the little swell over the life-to-come.

    I could see longing in Claire’s eyes.  She reached out with her hand and petted the little bulge as well.

    The wee bairn rewarded our attentions by doing several somersaults, creating a rolling wave that moved across my stomach.  And I started to weep again, my eyes filling with tears.

    “I can’t help myself.  It’s such a miracle!” I said.  When I looked up, I wasn’t alone in my emotion.  Both Jamie and Claire had a hint of moisture in their eyes and were clasping hands with each other, and looking at Ian next to me, I could see the wonder and adoration in his face as well.

     “Ah, Janet,” said Ian compassionately, reaching to my cheek to wipe my tears.  “You need to rest.  Let me take you to bed, Mo Bhean Chéile.”*

    He and I helped each other up the stairs, after Jamie generously volunteered to tuck his namesake into bed.

    Ian helped me remove my dressing gown and crawl between the quilts, and then he curled behind me.  I needed to be held, and there was something familiar about Ian’s gentle touch in the dark.  He stroked my back and shoulders and whispered Gaelic phrases to me, a comforting mantra even though I didn’t understand the words.

    After a time I turned to him, seeking something more.  His lips were warm and gentle, and his hands caressed me as well as the life in my belly.

    It had been quite some time since pregnancy sex for me, but Ian and Jenny seemed to have discovered choreography that worked for them.  As the pace of our caresses and breathing increased, Ian turned me away from him again, and as his hands continued to caress me generously, his body gently joined with me without the barrier of my belly in the way.  Climax felt foreign with the fullness of life inside me as the contractions and spasms occurred, but it was incredibly good.

    With Ian holding me close, I finally fell asleep.

    The next morning, I could smell home before I even opened my eyes.  It was early, before dawn.  I padded down the hallway to peek into first Jasper, and then Jason’s bedrooms.  I tiptoed up to their beds, watched their dark eyelashes rest on their cheeks, the even rise and fall of their chests in sleep.  I prayed something wordless as I watched them; a thanks or a blessing, I didn’t know.

    Then I crept back into my bedroom, cuddled up to Jeff, and with my hands on my empty abdomen, silently wept; grateful for my own miraculous sons, but newly bereft.

[theexperiment-hq-blog]

Barbara Gordon / Oracle, played by Hobie

OOC Info

Name: Hobie

Age: 23

Pronouns: She/Her

Triggers: (redacted)

Second Choice Character: N/A

Discord: (redacted)

IC Info

Muse Name and Alias: Barbara Gordon, Oracle (formerly Batgirl)

What is your primary canon(s) for this character?: Comics, Arkham Origins for pre-Batgirl backstory

Approximate Age: 27

OTPs, BroTPs, NoTPs: 

OTP: Oracle/Riddler

BroTP: Babs/Dick, Babs/Dinah

Give us a bulletpoint outline for what your character’s history might look like:

Born and raised in Gotham City as the daughter of police officer (eventually turned commissioner) James Gordon, Barbara is no stranger to the notion of crime and corruption. And, as she enters her teens, superheroes. She grows up surrounded by the city’s law enforcement and familiarizes herself intimately with the GCPD’s servers and inner workings. Meanwhile, her academic pursuits and photographic memory earn her a diploma at age sixteen alongside a scholarship to Gotham University; she becomes one of the youngest student graduates with honors.

Despite her desire to make something of herself, her father refuses her interest in the police academy, and the FBI turns her away on technical citations. So, at age sixteen she takes matters into her own hands – forges her own cape and cowl and takes on Gotham City as the first incarnation of the Batgirl mantle. Not only does she prove formidable against Gotham’s worst, she even eventually wins Batman’s good graces. And it feels good.

And then, one day, there’s a knock on the door. A bullet from the Joker himself, intended to take down Gotham City’s police commissioner, ironically finds itself imbedded in an even more appropriate victim. At age nineteen, her superhero career is cut tragically short by a bullet to her spine that renders her paralyzed from the waist down. For life. Over the next year, Babs struggles with depression. It’s only when she’s finally has enough of her own crippling behavior that she decides it’s time to turn over a new leaf. There has to be more to crime-fighting than just kicking ass, after all.

With backing from Bruce Wayne, Barbara moves into her own apartment. She uses her once-recreational computer smarts and WayneTech supplies to build her own supercomputer from the ground up. By the end of the project, she’s set up with one of the world’s most powerful and complex computers. Babs then sets about gathering a database of information – collecting research, reading daily newspapers, siphoning data from agencies worldwide and compiling it into an independent system of her own. By age twenty-two, she takes on the identity of Oracle, and she dives back into the world of crime-fighting head-first.

Since then, she’s done a decent amount to build herself up – both founding and heading the Birds of Prey, for instance. Her wealth of information has grown immensely, her influence no longer confined to just Gotham. Babs no longer sees her disability as any hindrance whatsoever toward her goals and her methods. She’s nowhere near done.

Interview

What would it take for you to switch sides?

A momentary frown crosses Babs’ expression. It’s easy to take this sort of question lightly, brush it off as hypothetical and so improbable that why ought it be addressed in the first place? But anything’s technically possible, and boundaries are better set than abandoned. She hums. The frown has vanished, replaced with a subtle smile. “I suppose, if my goals were to align just so. I doubt that would ever happen, though.” She can’t necessarily act the saint, anyway; not when, technically, she breaks laws to access databases and files every day. “If it came down to it I’d do what I thought was right, regardless of what category it puts me in.”

How would you describe yourself? How would your friends describe you? How would the public describe you?

“You’d probably hear the word ‘attitude’ at least once,” she offers without hesitation, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, “I’ve got a bit of a sarcastic sense of humor. Just lights up the room.” Self-reflection isn’t meant to be an easy task, but Babs gives it her best. “Independent – particularly given my set of wheels. I’m pretty confident.” She’d had to learn that particular skill the long and hard way. “I don’t give up. Ask anyone else, though, and they’d probably try and tell you it makes me a bit… Cocky.” A small, uncomfortable pause. “I’ve taken things into my own hands that ought to not to be left to a single person. I don’t always know what’s best.” Another pause, this time less tense. She’s changing the subject. “I guess I’m the outgoing type, though – been to too many big parties thrown by rich guys not to be. And I know how to throw a mean girls’ night in.”

If you could gain any superpower/swap your superpower for another, what would it be and why?

“I’d have told you, once,” she comments dismissively, “that I’d give anyone anything – almost anything – to walk again. But I learned years ago that you don’t need legs to do something useful with yourself.” Maybe not a superpower, technically. But once upon a time, it might as well have been.

“I think,” Babs muses, pressing on, “that I like being able to do as much as I do, just as another regular human being. Powers don’t have to mean anything; it’s inspiring to know so many 'superheroes’ that can do it all on their own merit. I mean, Batman’s a pretty big deal.” She offers a smile.

“Guessing I have to pick something, though, right?” For a moment, she considers the ability to conjure coffee out of thin air – that’d probably be a life-saver. Or telepathy. Then again, that’d make her job a hell of a lot less interesting. “Maybe some kind of technopathy. It’d be a lot easier to figure out which of a thousand wires is causing a screen to flicker, you know what I mean?”

What is a secret you have never told someone?

Okay, so there were a few options. The question was probably intended to dredge up something personal, or scandalous. Babs wonders, thoughtfully, if she has anything like that to tease at in the first place. She’s a fairly open person to begin with, in the long-term. Maybe something smaller, then.

“Back when I was a kid, preteens,” she begins, “I used to follow my dad into work after school and over weekends. Their computers were a lot better than my old desktop.” God, she hasn’t thought about this for years. “People generally left me alone, but one of the guys on the cybercrimes team would actually talk to me like I wasn’t ten or an idiot. He was definitely older than me, and textbook nerd. You almost got secondhard embarrassment.” A pause, a sheepish little smile. “Not that it stopped me from getting a bit of a crush on him. It doesn’t matter anymore, obviously. But I don’t think I ever ended up spilling the beans on it.”

If there was one choice in your past you could change, what would it be?

A choice? Like, what, deciding to check the door when it rang in the afternoon?

No. probably something a bit better than that. Something more interesting, at least.

“I’m not the type to regret my decisions, usually.” She’s thinking aloud, racking her mind. Small things, sure. And there’s been times where she’s made decisions that have compromised her field team, she’s taken more than one deserved smack from Dinah for things she’s done as team leader. But they’re things she’s generally learned from, instances where everything ended up without too much collateral. There had to be something more substantial than that.

“Maybe…” It hadn’t really been a choice, though. It had been coping. Her best attempt at it. It took me a long time to get past… The Joker, and my legs. To move on with my life. I suppose I regret wallowing for so long. There was a lot of agonizing, a lot of self-confidence lost, that didn’t do anything for me. Then again, I’m not so sure I could have bounced back any faster than I had; I was lucky I came back at all, that I rebranded myself. I have a lot of support to thank for that.“ Babs inhales a little sharply, fixes her gaze somewhere off in the distance. "Still. It was a lot of energy wasted on pain.”

If you had one day where you could do anything you want, free of consequences, what would you do?

She goes with the first thing that crosses her mind. A mischevious grin, like she was a damn high schooler again sneaking out of the house in a homemade bat costume. “I’d love a night on the town – with my girlfriends, maybe Dick, a couple others. No crime. You have no idea how stifling the superhero gig can start to feel/ It’s hard to have too much fun when you’ve got a twenty-four hour job and a secret identity; it’d be like a little vacation.” A pause. “Or, if you’re ambitious, a big one.”