A Message to Supergirl fans from a Wynonna Earp fan
I’d like to start off by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what you’ve been going through, for what you’ve had to listen to, and for how terrible everyone is treating this situation. I want to make it very clear to all Suercorp shippers and LGBT+ fans that, yes, you are valid no matter what.
I was a part of this fandom some time ago but lost interest when the show’s dynamic shifted (*cough cough mon el ruined everything cough cough*). And now the #supergirl tag is filled to the brim with nothing but homophobic crap and fandom backlash. Everything seems to be spiraling out of control faster than anyone can glue it back together. I know this must be a troubling time for a lot of you…
But I come to you in these dark times with a true beacon of hope…
INTRODUCING WYNONNA EARP!!
“Crazy chick with a gun.”
This is Wynonna,
And that is her magical gun that sends demons back to hell.
This is her boss, Xavier-I’m-in-a-relationship-with-my-job-Dolls,
who has a thing for Wynonna. As does this guy
And this little ray of sunshine is Waverly
Wynonna’s little quirky sister (the Earp sisters)
And this is Waverly’s girlfriend, Officer Nicole Haught
(They kiss a lot)
This is our wonderful gay-overlord and holy-mother of all that is good, Emily Andras
She supports us shippers and validates us and our feelings, not to mention she loves to interact with her fans and her twitter game is
Dom and Kat love to talk about Wayhaught (WaverlyxNicole) and they’re probably the biggest shippers in the entire fandom (they are super cute together)
Right next to Melanie
And Melanie being the rebel youth while mama Emily needs another drink
So This is the cast, who love and support their fans, and who want to be good role models for others as well.
And the best part… it just got renewed for another season!
This is the show I found when I lost Supergirl. I’m not saying this is going to fix anything or make everything disappear, put a band-aid over a bullet wound and call it all better, but I hope you can find solace and comfort here. I hope this eases the pain a little. I hope you find something here to stick around for. Give it a shot, you’ll be happy you did.
So I like to think about what would happen if an alien sees, first hand, what a human filled with survival instincts and rage looks like. Mostly I just wanted to write this lol
Th'wed never thought the peaceful cargo ship would have crashed, attacked by smugglers for the rare jewels they had been assigned to watch over once it exchanged hands between them and the Humans. A gift of peace. He remembers sneering when he saw the group in ornamental armor and wondering why such a brutish race had survived so long without destroying itself. He cringed when one of them, a blonde female in the robes of a scribe, bared her teeth. All of them are savages.
When the ship went down on a hostile moon orbiting the gas giant he didn’t expect to survive. But he did, all because the humans covered him and the unshielded female. Waking up covered in the viscera of the crew and surrounded by the twisted perversion of the ship he immediately turned and vomited, uncaring for the tube like filaments on his head being coated in the green slime, the scales on them and his face turning a sickly yellow of fear and pain. The cover did not save him completely from harm, leg snapped all three toes curled in pain like a fist.
That’s when he heard it. The mournful wail that sounded more like a vengeful scream. The scribe was not worse for wear but her companions has no such luck, ornamental armor unable to save them from being pierced by the gutted ship. She kneeled beside another warrior, male perhaps, with a neck twisted in a strange way. She sniffed and to his amazement began gathering the group and the crew members, laying them side by side and crossing their arms, closing the eyes of the ones that still had faces. It was a long process and more than once she had to toss away a limb. He leaned over to vomit again.
When he leaned straight again the unnerving creature was staring at him, eyes wide and glossy. She bared her teeth again and made a strange barking sound that he tried to lean away from.
“Of all the fucking people to survive it’s the chick without a gun and the racist torrin.”
She pointed to the near by body of the male she wept over, his dark skin charred black from the flames.
“His name was Christofer and if he didn’t order them to protect you, you’d be dead. Thank him, if you think you can handle thanking a ‘brutish savage’.
The scales tinged pink with embarrassment. So she had heard him complaining to the captain. He never expected her to help him up, short stature surprisingly sturdy as she helped him limp away into the foliage. He was always amazed that such tiny creatures command such fear. She was patient with the shell shocked male, saving her own tears for when they had found water. She used her outer robe to set his leg and left him to go back and scavenger for supplies. Th'wed doesn’t worry much, taking the moment to mourn as quietly as possible, scales turning a dreary grey. Help will come soon. It has to.
Help did not come. In the passing of the gas giant and the sun, night and day both equal to three earthling days according to his guid, Morgan, she healed the hollow bones of his leg best to her ability but he suspects he will limp for the rest of his life. Her eyes grew colder everyday although she smiles more. He remembers almost fondly the hysterical laughter she had when she explained that her species barred their teeth in joy and politeness. She hunted for them while he used his own knowledge of those sector to find edible plants and fish. Their dynamic grew into a fondness, perhaps even friendship, the smaller alien often touching him. Petting his "hair” or examining his pink hued skin or his clawless limbs. She was fascinated with his eyes, large and round and completely black. Equated him to something she calls an owl.
He often looks back at the day he asked her how she knows to survive and hunt, the smile he is now able to differentiate from becoming cold and predatory.
“I grew up on a ship colony with my brother. When we landed for supplies we had to hunt for our food, too poor to use what credits we had for nutrient blocks. They caught us one day, chopped off my brothers hand when he took the wrap. When I joined the military to provide for them they gave me survival training. Never know when a ship crashes and you have to make it until a ship comes for you.”
His respect grew as he sat in the small lodging they built together. From the craftsmanship of the things she lovingly carved he suspected she wanted to be something else and not a military lackey. The short alien from then on began using familiar nick names and hugging often. Pack instincts. He would have sneered months ago at the notion. She was a peaceful woman who laughed more often than she cried and went against every stereotype he knew. It lulled him in security with her, forgetting the predator she was.
An animal, one he never saw before but was monstrous in size and shape attached him while he gathered one day, snapping his makeshift cane and almost crushing his ribs in one swipe of its spotted paw. It’s long snout split the wrong way, vertical mouth filled with slavering teeth. Knowing he was going to die he lied limp on the forest floor and awaited the golden afterlife. He heard a great roar from behind him and felt the sweeping air of a spear over his body.
The creature backed off while his human crouched over his body, eyes wild, pupils so blown they almost dominate her eyes. Her chest heaves and fists tighten. Looking at her face he felt both of his hearts almost stop in pure fear. He wonders how he could have ever mistaken her smiling for a show of aggression. He can clearly see the artificially sharpened teeth, something he dutifully ignored before, glistening in the reflective shine of the bright red gas giant hanging in the sky.
Opening her jaw in a way he almost couldn’t comprehend he let out a strangled roar and charged the thing. With every swipe it bleed. With every indigent scream it made at her she answered in kind only angrier. It was insistent, probably not used to its food fighting back, and made as to clamp its jaws around her. Screaming for her to run did nothing. She stood there face twisted in rage as she grabbed the closing jaws and. Tore. Them. Off.
She separated the jaws until a wet cracking sound echoed but didn’t stop until she tore it completely free, fingers dripping in blood. Green for the creature and red from her own ripped palms. She tossed back her head and screamed to the sky, red planet outlining her body like a bloody halo. She looked like a god of war her people so love to worship. Rescue came weeks later from a human ship honing onto the beacon from the crash. He was roomed in the med bay while she was escorted away on the large military colony and he didn’t see her for days while he messaged his queen. When she came back she was groomed and wearing the royal blue of a generals uniform, chest glittering with the metals of valor. She grinned and stood at attention.
“We have not been formally introduced. I am general Morgan Regina of sector Terra. I was sent to ensure the first official contact with a new species went well.”
He took the offered hand which he now knows is filled with nanotechnology, turning her bones to metal and her muscles into inexhaustible strength. Even turning off her pain receptors so she will not be hindered with her own pain. Swallowing thickly he wills his face into the unfamiliar stretch of a smile and her eyes glitter at the effort. He fears her. Respects her. And will probably die fighting his people for the alliance her people offer. He is indebted, it seems, to a savage brute.
Extra-old Guy with Two Guns (and occasionally dynamite)
Super Brain with a Gun (Can't shoot it though).
Revenant with a Gun (and champagne bottles)
VICIOUSLY PROTECTIVE SMOL WITH A STICK (or two. And sometimes the stick is pointy). (She's great with a shotgun, but why use a gun when you can show off your toned arms by waving sticks around?)