climbed every mountain

bloomingcnidarians  asked:

2 and/or 19 for Gemma/Jaal, please!

19. kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing 

In which Gemma Ryder and Jaal have their first fight, and Cora does not want to deal with it. 


Ryder’s ongoing quest to climb every mountain on every planet vertically had finally broken the Nomad in ways even the combined efforts of Gil, Jaal, and Vetra couldn’t repair.

“Are you still on fire?” Cora asked, both horrified and impressed. “My God. You’re still on fire.”

Ryder, halfway out of her armor, and looking as close to murderous as Cora had ever seen her, crouched down to peer at the Nomad’s undercarriage. “Shit, we are. Liam — we’re in crisis, respond!”

“On it, boss!” A fire extinguisher arced through the air, barely missing Gil’s head, and landed in Ryder’s hand with a solid thwack. Five seconds later, the fire was out, but the cargo bay was covered in foam, and the Nomad wheezed and groaned as its axles cooled.

“Shit,” Ryder said again, scrubbing at her hair. “Good eye, Cora, thanks.”

“I take it your field trip with Reyes went well?” Cora asked.

Ryder bared her teeth — Cora thought of a mongoose, and took a step back — but before she could change the subject or Ryder could start swearing, Jaal spoke up from the other side of the Nomad.

“Kadara is a cesspool on the best of days,” he said, his mouth curled in a sneer as he wiped a few droplets of foam off his eyepiece. He muttered something under his breath, and Ryder’s shoulder went iron-hard. “And today,” he added, once all the foam was gone, “was not its best day.”

Ryder glared at Jaal — the planetkiller stare, her father had called it; Cora heard his voice, felt the accompanying pang of loss and nostalgia — and the cargo bay went silent. The lovebirds hadn’t so much as exchanged tense words since they paired off months ago, but watching Ryder, whose teeth were still very much bared, and whose Sidewinder was still very much in reach, Cora readied a barrier.

No harm in being prepared, lots of harm in letting the Pathfinder spatter her angaran boyfriend across the Tempest’s cargo bay.

Five seconds of absolute silence passed, then Ryder gave herself a shake and exhaled hard through her mouth. “It sure as hell wasn’t,” she said, tight and furious, then turned on her heel and stalked away, without a backwards look.

Cora chanced a look in Jaal’s direction — hell, just like everyone else in the cargo bay — and found him watching Ryder’s departure with a mix of dismay and annoyance. Dismay ended up winning by the time the door hissed closed behind Ryder.

Sure glad I wasn’t tapped for this run, Cora thought, then felt a surge of guilt as Jaal made his way — deliberately calm — toward the makeshift showers in the back of the bay.

Another ten seconds of silence went by before Drack’s head popped out of the Nomad.

“Next time,” he said to the room at large, “someone else can go to Kadara. I’m done.”


Between Jaal’s first and second emotional openness seminars, someone — Cora’s money was on Liam — had taken the guy aside and explained that sometimes it was totally okay, even preferred, to let humans stew for a while before trying to work things out. And Jaal, being pretty quick on the uptake, had taken that advice very much to heart — not that Jaal had any other setting, Cora mused — and let Ryder stew, and stew, and stew, all the way back to the Nexus, where the Nomad could get some TLC and the crew could stock up on rations that were older than everyone except Drack.

Ryder spent most of the trip in her quarters, and for the first time, Cora realized just how much of the crew’s strange cohesion came from the Pathfinder’s relentless, dogged optimism. Everyone stayed as efficient as ever, but without Ryder breezing through the ship, no one seemed inclined to talk, or joke, or even give each other shit.

“I hate this,” Peebee said, two hours out from the Nexus. “They need to get over it. Jaal had the right idea. Kadara sucks, even that time Drack drank the water.”

Lexi’s eyes flew wide, and Cora leapt in before the good doctor could turn herself inside-out over that one. “I’m pretty sure it’s more than Jaal’s feelings about Kadara getting on Ryder’s last nerve,” she said, as diplomatically as she could. Privately, she mostly agreed with Peebee, but a part of her kept whispering that Ryder had held herself together through her father’s death, two of her own deaths, and facing the kett time and again. This wasn’t just being pissed off with Jaal; this was everything on Ryder’s back coming out at once.

She wanted to say so, but Peebee had already checked out of the conversation and was talking to Lexi about the new upgrades to Poc, and Cora didn’t want to ruin the moment. She finished her breakfast in silence, and headed back to her plants. As de facto XO, maybe she should have stepped in, and nudged them toward a reconciliation, but that advice about stewing went for her, too.

If Ryder and Jaal weren’t back to their usual adoring selves by the time the Nomad was repaired, she’d say something. But not before.


Halfway through their first day docked at the Nexus, a swell of whoops and laughter interrupted Cora’s reading. She shoved her datapad away and followed the sound down to the cargo bay.

Gil and Peebee turned around as she walked in, each offering her a quick nod before going back to cheering on Liam and Ryder, who were both balancing on gymnastics rings, five feet above the floor.

Oh, good, Cora thought. We’re back to Tempest Olympics. She’d been roped into enough of Ryder’s challenges for a lifetime, but Liam could always be relied on to take one of Ryder’s dares, whether it was do you think I can throw you over that ravine with my biotics or how many cartwheels can we do in full armor?

At least this particular challenge wouldn’t leave Lexi crying in her sleep. The good doctor was cheering next to Drack, though Cora wasn’t exactly sure for whom.

“How long have they been at it?” she asked, taking up a spot on Peebee’s other side.

“About fifteen minutes,” Gil replied, Peebee being too busy throwing half a cookie at Liam’s head. “Nowhere near the record, but we’re allowed to distract them this time.”

“Bullseye!” Peebee yelled, nearly deafening them both, as the cookie bounced off Liam’s forehead. He wobbled, cursing under his breath, but regained his balance a second later.

Cora grinned, relief rising through her chest. If Ryder was cheerful enough to start demanding athletic competitions, the worst was behind them, without her having to lift a finger. A reconciliation with Jaal couldn’t be far behind — except for the fact that Jaal was nowhere to be seen.

A little of her relief faded away, but then Vetra flicked a bottle cap at Ryder, and she nearly lost her grip as she tried to shift away.

“Oh, you’re going down!” Liam said, grinning as a fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead.

“No way, Kosta.” Ryder pulled herself upright, and gave him a wicked grin. “I’m in the zone. Can’t knock me out, can’t bring me down, can’t —”

“Hey, Jaal!” Liam yelled toward the far corner of the cargo bay. “Give a friend a hand, yeah? Distract your girl!”

Ryder’s head twitched toward Jaal as he walked into view, but she clearly didn’t make eye contact. “Pretty low, Liam,” she said. “Must be getting desperate. No wonder I’m winning.”

Desperate your word for creative, huh?” Liam jerked his chin at Jaal, who hovered at the edge of the bay, just in Cora’s line of sight. “C'mon, I know you’ve got moves.”

Cora watched Jaal’s emotions cross his face: reluctance, amusement, and the strange blend of wistfulness and intensity that had marked how he looked at Ryder, almost from the beginning.

I don’t know if I should roll my eyes or applaud, she thought, as Jaal made his way toward Ryder. It’s like something out of Ryder’s vids.

Why she’d expected anything less, she’d never know.

“Hoo boy,” whispered Vetra, and leaned back with her arms folded. Drack groaned, despite Lexi nudging him. And Ryder watched Jaal, her grip on the rings not faltering, her legs pointed straight and true at the ground.

Jaal wrapped his hand around her bare ankle. He didn’t squeeze, or stroke, just held on as he looked up at Ryder’s face.

“Come on,” Liam hissed, smirking. “You’ve got this.”

Ryder tossed her hair out of her eyes, the first trace of a smile curving her lips.

Jaal’s hand tightened on Ryder’s ankle. He lifted her leg — slowly, and Ryder’s smile widened — and kissed the inside of her calf.

Good lord, Cora thought, shaking her head.

“Ah!” Ryder dropped, laughing, into Jaal’s waiting arms. Cora saw his answering smile as he turned, not letting Ryder go.

Liam whooped and let go of the rings, darting forward to slap Jaal and Ryder on the shoulder. “And the champion is…the Kosta!”

Oh, Liam might have been the champion, but Ryder certainly didn’t look like a woman who had lost anything as Jaal lowered her gently to the floor. She kept smiling as she said something to Jaal, too quietly for anyone to hear over Liam’s crowing, and then they both laughed.

“Quite a show,” Gil said, pushing away from the railing. “Guess the kids are back to normal now.”

Cora hummed in agreement as she watched Ryder and Jaal slip toward the exit, hand in hand. “Guess so.”

The Sound of Music Lyric Meme
  • "My day in the hills has come to an end."
  • "There are voices that urge me to stay."
  • "The hills are alive with the sound of music, with the songs they have sung for a thousand years."
  • "The hills fill my heart with the sound of music."
  • "My heart wants to sing every song it hears."
  • "I go to the hills when my heart is lonely."
  • "How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?"
  • "How do you make her stay and listen to all you say?"
  • "How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?"
  • "These are a few of my favorite things."
  • "When I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel so bad."
  • "Let's start at the beginning, a very good place to start."
  • "The first three notes just happen to be do-re-mi."
  • "When you know the notes to sing, you can sing most everything."
  • "You wait on an empty stage for fate to turn the light on."
  • "You are sixteen going on seventeen. Baby, it's time to think."
  • "Totally unprepared are you to face a world of men."
  • "You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do."
  • "I am seventeen going on eighteen, I'll take care of you."
  • "I know that I'm naive."
  • "Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet."
  • "How can love survive?"
  • "How can I show what I feel for you?"
  • "Lost in our wealthy domains are we."
  • "We'll make our love survive!"
  • "Perhaps I had a wicked childhood."
  • "Somewhere in my wicked, miserable past there must have been a moment of truth."
  • "I must have done something good."
  • "So long, farewell, aufwiedersehn, goodnight."
  • "I hate to go and leave this pretty sight."
  • "I'd like to stay and taste my first champagne."
  • "The sun has gone to bed and so must I."
  • "Climb every mountain."
  • "A dream that will need all the love you can give."
  • "Today you have to learn to be a realist."
  • "I will not bow my head to the men I despise!"
  • "You can't stop it even if you tried."
  • "You're a fool if you worry over everything but little number one."
  • "An ordinary couple is all we'll ever be."
  • "All I want of living is to keep you close to me."
  • "You are sixteen going on seventeen, waiting for life to start."
  • "Somebody kind who touches your mind will suddenly touch your heart."
  • "Gone are your old ideas of life."
  • "You may think this kind of adventure may never come to you."
  • "You look happy to meet me."
You know, people love to say that opposites attract. And maybe that’s why I tried so hard to make us work. The girl who measures two teaspoons of sugar to put in her tea and the boy with calloused palms, climbing every mountain he can because he likes the way the stars look when nothing is in their way. Frothy milk and adrenaline. We looked like idiots together. You at my charity dinners in a poorly tailored sport coat. Five o'clock shadow. Bad jokes. And me scaling the rock climbing wall with slippery hands. Two feet above ground. A loose cotton dress. But laughing. Both of us always laughing. At me and you and this stupid world for working in a way that let the two of us need each other so desperately. Opposites. You’re damn right they attract. But attraction and commitment were never the same thing. Maybe you always knew that. And that’s why you laughed. Because you knew that one day, your girl would stand on Everest. Scream to the stars. Drink her coffee black. But me, I’m still learning. Learning as you tell we want different things. Learning when you drop off every piece of myself I’ve left at your place, nothing folded, the toothbrush tangled with hairs. Learning while I sit here writing about the boy who bounced from cliff tops to see the stars and the girl whose feet never left the ground, whose eyes only ever knew how to watch him walk into clouds and disappear altogether.
—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write
the signs as nct events marked in history

aries- taeyong consumed by fire after eating chilli thai peppers
taurus- the dedication and endurance of johnny who survived through 100 years of being mistreated and neglected by sm
gemini- two-faced kun backstabbing his best friend winwin
cancer- babyface jaehyun eating snacks in the car
leo- the way all eyes are on jaemin every time he appears on camera
virgo- doyoung putting so much effort into hosting the vroom vroom talk show only to be constantly told that it’s not good enough
libra- johnny’s fashion evaluation
scorpio- ten letting johnny know that he wants to have xxxx with him
sagittarius- yuta climbing every mountain in korea, japan and the whole entire world
capricorn- how responsible and dependable taeil is as a hyung 
aquarius- taeyong’s relationship with bugs 
pisces- the dreamy/lost look in hansol’s eyes

I finished Breath of the Wild.
And almost immediately after the credits ended, I fell asleep. What am I even going to do with my life now that I’m done?
Might as well just sleep forever hahahah

I can’t
I wrote this almost a year ago. I’m in a better place today.

I’m not an “I can’t” sort of person.  There are times when I really can’t–I can’t have lunch with you because I have a dentist appointment, a meeting, a conflict.  But for the big things in life, the difficult things, I’ve always prided myself on saying, “I can.” I’ll stay up all night if I have to finish something. I can do it by tomorrow. I’ll do things that I’m afraid of. I’ll talk to people I don’t really like and be as sweet as pie. I’m good at being a shoulder to cry on, even when I have my own things to cry about. I CAN. Or until recently, I could.

Twice in the last two months, I’ve heard the words, “I can’t,” come out of my mouth. One of these was emotional. I was losing one of the most precious people in the world to me. I was with my family, supporting them and being supported by them, all of us grieving and helping each other.  In another day she would be gone, and I would have a lifetime of dealing with the space she left behind. And then, another problem happened. I was asked to deal with it,  and I started to, and then I couldn’t.  

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m topped out. I just can’t.” And wonder of wonders, someone else took the problem and solved it. I didn’t have to. But a part of me felt this was a defeat. Why couldn’t I? Aren’t I the “I can” kid? Maybe, I wasn’t who I thought I was after all.

And then a few weeks later, I was driving on a highway, a particular road that I hate, that I get out of driving when I can, but I always do when I must, because I can.  And then I couldn’t. I was going 40 mph and had a death grip on the steering wheel. I was in an unsafe situation, and my daughter was in the car with me. “Get out your phone, and find me another road,” I said. And she did. We got where we had to go. I took a state road down and back. We just went a different way.

When I questioned myself later, this is what I discovered. I usually draw on an emotional reserve when things are tough or challenging or scary. I had used that up. All up. Grief had drained it dry. I needed to put back that reserve, to gently fill the well.  And in the meantime, I don’t have to climb every mountain. I can go a different way. I can let someone else do the hard thing once in a while. My pride took a bit of a whack last month because I had reached my limit, and I had never admitted before that I had one. Now I’ve seen it, and I’m more human and a bit wiser because of it.  

Mostly, I still believe that I can. But when I can’t, I won’t beat myself up about it. I CAN have a limit. I CAN choose to say “I can’t.” It’s still my choice. And I’m okay with that. For now.

Dear little black girl

Dear little black girl,

You’re beautiful. Your skin is like the clay of the promised land. A place of refuge, of solace. Your hair tells the story of your ancestors. The ones who made it possible for you to have peace of mind. Every curl and every coil sings a song of liberation. A song of resilience. Don’t ever be ashamed to let the wind flow freely through your hair. Your curls and God’s breath intertwine creating harmonious melodies that ring from the mountain tops. This, my dear, is your crown. A crown of insight. A crown of identity. A crown of depth and character. Your crown was handcrafted by God only for you. Every gem, every jewel, and every strand. It’s yours. You see those lines in the palms of your hands? Their treasure maps. They hold the hidden path to your innermost being. Everything you create is a direct translation of that thing on the inside. That thing that makes you come alive. Your passions. Your desires. Put your hand on your chest. You feel that? That’s your heart. Pay attention to the rhythm it makes. That’s the melody of your heart’s song. The more it beats, the louder it sings. Baby girl, let your heart sing..LOUD! Sing until your heart’s content. One day that song will turn into a whistle. And that whistle will turn into a soft hum. Eventually that soft hum will turn into a subtle murmur. So, sing! Sing! Please… SING! Your big brown eyes reflect things to come. They’re the gateway to your future. Maybe you’ll be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a movie star. Maybe you’ll cure cancer and end world hunger. You could be the President. An Empress. A Queen or a Warrior Princess. Your eyes hold the answers, my dear. I was once told to laugh as much as I breathe. I wish I would have taken heed to those directions when they were given. In this life you’ll go through some things that threaten your smile.. Things that try and hold your laugh captive. Don’t let it! Nobody deserves to take your smile and lock it in a cold and lonely box somewhere in a dark room. The world is a lot brighter with your smile. A smile that melts cold hearts and laugh that latches onto those around you. Your smile is like a warm embrace in this cruel and ugly world. Smile. Smile and flourish. Smile, flourish and live. Live on purpose! There’s only one you! One beautiful you. Climb every mountain. Cross every bridge. Sing every lyric. Paint every picture. Kick every ball. Write every book and tell every story. And when they look at you and ask ‘how’; tell them you have super powers. It’s called Black Girl Magic.

Good luck princess. 👑

Lena Luthor/you fic chapter 4

Originally posted by swallowedabug

Previous installments:

A splash of cold water hits your face, snapping you back into consciousness.  You sputter and blink rapidly, trying to clear the liquid from your eyes, and a sharp pain shoots through your head from the back of your skull.  The room you’re in is lit by a single, swinging light bulb above your head and the walls are made up of simple grey concrete blocks.  

Despite the way your head aches, you lift your face to get a look at your captors.  You aren’t surprised, really, to see the man from the motel.  The figure next to him, however, is unfamiliar.

“So, you’re the one who crossed our client?”  He drops the metal bucket in his hands to the floor and walks up to you.  “I was expecting something more…impressive.  Especially since you’ve been fucking the Luthor bitch.”

A rough hand grips the underside of your chin and forces your face up towards the light.  He moves your head side to side, studying you.  You don’t speak.

“You know what happens now, don’t you?  I mean, you have to expect this when you get involved with someone like them.  The Luthors aren’t a very…forgiving family.  But—“ he releases your chin and you level your gaze, “—this is going to take a while.  You know how this business works.  Some people pay us to get their problems out of the way.  Some pay for revenge.  Lillian will be out soon—she’s paying someone else for that—so obviously she wants the latter.  That’s where you, and this,” he explains, nodding towards the far side of the room where a camera sits on a tripod, “come into play.”

“Then get it over with.”

The two men look surprised that you’ve chosen to speak and exchange a glance.  

“You’re going to make this fun, aren’t you?” he rubs his beard thoughtfully and then turns to his partner.  “Let’s make the first tape then.”


Lena’s heart dropped when she arrived at work that morning and saw your desk empty.  She had finally been able to sleep last night after leaving your apartment, having felt like maybe things would turn out alright between the two of you.  

Lena allowed herself to try your cellphone twice before she deleted your number.  She wouldn’t let this devastate her.  Not after she had finally climbed every other mountain in her life.  

And if she was being honest, she was angry with herself.  Someone with her intelligence and life experience should have seen this coming from a mile away.  You weren’t going to change for her.  This wasn’t some romantic comedy where the rough around the edges girl has a heart of gold.  No one was coming to save her from her sadness.  It had been foolish to hope for that, even for a short time.

Three days passed before the yellow envelope showed up in her mail basket.  As per usual since you disappeared, she poured herself a large glass of wine before sorting through the mix of ads and bills.  The fact that her name and address was handwritten, combined with the lack of a return address, caught her eye and she picked up the yellow rectangle curiously.  There was something solid inside and Lena opened it and tried to remember if she had ordered anything online lately.  A clear CD case with the words ‘Play Me’ scrawled in black ink across the front clattered onto her kitchen table.

A sense of unease pooled in Lena’s stomach as she reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop.  Sweat coated her palms and the dark haired woman chewed her bottom lip while the machine whirred to life.  It seemed to take forever for the DVD to load and when it did, Lena’s heart dropped.  A choked whimper escaped her lips at the sight of the room captured on the video.  

Your mother sends her regards, Lena.”

An unfamiliar man spoke into the camera and then walked into the center of the bare room.  There was no doubt that you were the figure tied to the chair under the light and Lena covered her mouth with her hands.  She sat, frozen at her table, and watched as the man walked over to you and without a moment of hesitation, struck you across the face with a closed fist.  The sound echoed against the cement walls and Lena felt her blood turn to ice.  Your head snapped to the side as another punch was thrown.  

The small timeline on the bottom of the media player showed 15 minutes remaining on the film.

You think you’re tough, huh?”

The man grabbed you by the hair and craned your head up so that the lightbulb illuminated your face.  

How long do you think you’ll last before you start crying like a little bitch for your girlfriend, huh?  We have all night.”

He used his other hand to throw two fast punches across your face.  You spat out a stream of blood and the man grunts a laugh.  Another figure stepped into the frame, gripping what looked like an aluminum bat, and Lena couldn’t watch anymore.  Her hand shot forward and she slammed the pause button.  A wave of immense guilt washed over her at how fast she had assumed the worst of you.  Lena had sat in her own self-pity for days while you were somewhere suffering because of her.  Her hand trembled and she reached forward and scrolled to the end of the video, needing to know whether or not you were alive.  A sob ripped through her chest at the sight of you slumped over in the chair, blood staining your shirt and face.  Your chest still rose up and down.

Lena’s vision blurred with tears and she practically leapt up from the table, now filled with panic and adrenaline.  The heiress ran towards her balcony, almost as if on auto-pilot, and she threw open the french doors.


Her voice cracked from how loudly she screamed the hero’s name and Lena gripped the railing separating herself from the streets below.  She sucked in another breath and repeated her desperate cry.  Aware of how hysterical she had to seem, but uncaring, Lena continued to strain her vocal chords until, finally, the red and blue clad girl landed beside her.

“Lena, what’s wrong?”

“My mother—“ Lena gasped, mascara running, “—she had them take Y/N and they’re hurting her—“

“Slow down,” Supergirl gripped her shoulders and did her best to steady the woman.  “Who took who?”

“Y/N, my…” Lena’s voice faltered and the blonde understood almost immediately.

“It’s okay.  Who took her?”

“I-I don’t know.  Two men, but I don’t know.  My mother hired them to h-hurt her and there’s a video on my computer.”

“It’s all right, Lena.  Can you show me the video?” Supergirl’s voice was level and steady, but even she found herself thrown off by Lena’s distressed state.  The CEO was always so poised and yet she seemed reduced to a mess now.  

“Yes,” Lena nodded and led her into the nicely furnished condo.  Supergirl did her best to hide her horror at the images on the laptop that Lena showed her.  

“Can you save her?”

“I’ll do my best,” the hero promised earnestly.  “I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”

Alright guys, what should happen next chapter?  More pain and suffering or more pain and suffering? :)