high school supercorp au. kara struggling to keep her superpowers at bay around the pretty super nerd. kara hasn’t grown into her hero image yet & lena hasn’t grown into her name.
There’s a giant leading me to God knows where I’ve got news, I’m going my way Fighting, and I feel I’m getting somewhere All is right, all is right.
From high atop the water tower on the very edge of town, a shadow sat, pushing up her glasses as they fell slightly down the bridge of her nose. Just below, an entire city stretched out toward the sea, the lights bleeding into it, which then bled into the horizon, into the very sky itself. Down by the boardwalk, someone was throwing away old bread and cotton candy while the gulls gulped them down with contented caws that got lodged in their noses. The smell of the freshly cut, end-of-summer lawns wafted through the night, perfuming the last night of summer break perfectly.
Do you think Clarke had already subconsciously fallen for Bellamy when she was with Finn and Lexa? It seems like both Finn and Lexa had questioned her about this in an indirect manner.
Short answer: Yes.
The attraction has been there since season 1. That’s for sure. I mean look at her face. They were openly flirting in this scene.
And Finn saw that too.
I think she started having feelings (in a romantic sense of the word) for Bellamy in season 2. She asked specifically if Finn and Bellamy made it. Twice.
She put Bellamy on the same level as her love interest. (Did she ask for Monroe? Sterling? Octavia? No.)
She ran through the camp just to get to him and the hug… even Bellamy himself was shocked. Octavia noticed (”There’s something I thought I’d never see.” + her facial expression is also very telling) Damn just rewatch it. Pay a special attention to Clarke’s facial expressions. Compare Bellarke hug to Clarke/Octavia hug - that’s a massive difference.
Clarke still felt guilty for closing the door on Bellamy and Finn. That’s very evident in that scene by the fire in 2x05. Bellamy offered her understanding. “It had to be done.” He made it very clear that he’s not holding it against her, that he understand why she did it. He reassured her she’d done the right thing. And that’s something Clarke needed at this moment.
She was kinda on her own in the Mountain. She was suspicious and trying to get out while the other were trying to convince her they’re finally safe. Then she espaced with the knowledge she left them all behind in MW (which is not what happened but I’m pretty sure Clarke thought something like this). And then she reunited with Bellamy and suddenly she was not alone. She got her partner back.
And then in 2x05-2x08, they were back in their co-leaders mode. They were so in sync…. Since this episode (meaning 2x05) Bellamy is the person she trusts the most. The person who understands the burden of being a leader and carries it with her. She started falling for Bellamy in these episodes. She still had feelings for Finn but she was not exactly “with Finn”. She wasn’t Finn with since the moment Raven’d landed on the Earth.
The narrative backs me up in 2x09. Clarke just killed Finn and one of the first things she said to Bellamy in this episode is “I can’t lose you too.” Again, Bellamy is put at the same level as the person she’d said “I love you” just a few hours ago.Later in the episode L/xa (sorry guys but thi will show up in the tag anyway since the anon used the correct name) and Clarke had conversation about leading their people and L/xa confided a story of her lost love to Clarke. Clarke needed to stop the pain. She wanted to become a strong stoic leader and make sure she will never have to feel this way again so she built the walls around her heart and emotionally shut herself off. “Love is weakness.” And what is the first thing Clarke did? She sent Bellamy away with the words “I was being weak. It’s worth the risk.” This is Clarke trying to be like L/xa - strong leader devoid of emotions. And what is Clarke’s last line in this episode? “Love is weakness.” Hmmm interesting. So yeah I think she started realizing she has feelings for Bellamy in 2x09 but that’s one of the reasons she sent him away.
She realized her mistake pretty fast because basically all episode of 2b is Clarke being constantly worried about Bellamy (2x11 is a perfect example but it’s in every single episode). Yet she never stopped believing in Bellamy. She never doubted him. She always believed he’d succeed in this mission.
Even L/xa saw it and called Clarke out on her feelings for Bellamy. “You care about him.” “I care about all of them.” “Yet you worry about him more.” FUCK EVEN L/XA SAW IT.
“…besides, we lost contact with Bellamy.” she’s blinking the tears back again.
And their reunion in the tunnels in 2x16? Clarke is speechless, she’s just staring at Bellamy in wonder, blinking the tears back. She absolutely stunned and the relief is written all over her face.
Moving on…. she didn’t tell anyone else but Bellamy that she’s leaving (maybe expect for Monty). She didn’t even tell her mother. Anyways, did she kiss Monty goodbye? No, she didn’t.
Now for the second part of your question. I’d like to start by saying that Clarke probably spent plenty of time thinking about the delinquents and Bellamy in particular during those 3 months between s2 and s3. Now I’m talking about platonic Bellarke. She thought of him as her partner, friend, co-leader. Se thought of him as a person who pulled that lever with her.
And then she finally saw him again when he came to rescue her. He caressed her face and hair and she’s absolutely stunned. She just started at him with wide eyes. She begged for his life, her voice breaking and she’s do anything - even sacrificing her own life for him (don’t forget that she didn’t know Roan is taking her to Polis, she thought he’s taking her to Nia who wants to kill her). This scene kills me every damn time because it’s the least platonic shit I’ve ever seen. And Roan noticed (and as the season went on, he kept on noticing).
Then everything had changed because Roan brought her to Polis and Clarke was forced to play a role of Wanheda, She became a political figure. War was about to happen and Skaikru was in danger. She didn’t trust L/xa (for a good reason because obviously L/xa betrayed them before) so she had to stay to make sure L would keep her word AND SHE WASN’T READY TO COME BACK. NOT YET. That’s why she decided to stay in Polis in 3x03. If you watch the scene closely, you can see that the conversation with Bellamy wasn’t easy for Clarke. When he walked away, she had to take a moment to blink back the tears and take a deep breath before she was ready to turn around and play the role of wanheda again.
Since 3x04 she was falling for L/xa. But at the same time, she never stopped having feelings for Bellamy. It is possible to love two people at the same time. But I believe Clarke didn’t realize the true nature of her feelings for Bellamy.
One of my scene is definitely their argument in 3x05. I analyzed it in details so you can check that out. Clarke was stunned. She was absolutely crushed. But that scene also kinda woke her up. She was on her own for 3 months, she was isolated from her people in Polis (which is the main reason I’m always saying she was a terrible ambassador) and this argument finally showed her the reality and the consequences of what’s been going on in Arkadia in between 2x16 and 3x05. She realized she’s not the only one who’s hurting. She saw how broken Bellamy was. And she believed her they could fix it all. Together. But she said a few words that triggered Bellamy and he did what he did (again, I talked about it in detail a few months ago).
After the debacle in Arkadia, she focused on playing the role on wanheda again in order to keep her people safe. She was getting closer and closer with L/xa and eventually she fall for her…. and we all know how that played out. Clarke lost another person she loved. At that time, that was all she could think of. Everything happened so fast and then there was the flame, Titus, Murphy… she didn’t have time to think about her feelings. She was overwhelmed. Her feelings for Bellamy were still buried inside of her though without her realizing it.
The Bellarke reunion in 3x11 is interesting for many reasons. Clarke expression can be interpreted many ways but I think she’s also shocked she saw Bellamy, relieved he’s alive and relatively well (she had to blink to make sure he’s really standing there in front of her) and she was also scared. She didn’t know where they stood because the last time they saw each other he handcuffed her and she tazed him.
3b was about finding their way back to each other and Bellamy realizing his feelings for Clarke. Yes, I think that at this point Bellamy is aware of his feelings for Clarke. Clarke on the other hand is not but the feelings are definitely there and have been since season 2. Those feelings never disappeared and I hope we’ll get to see Clarke bringing these feeling back on the surface and becoming aware of her them.
hi! do you have any lesbian/bisexual/queer/whatever term you use for "not 100% straight" leia thoughts/headcanons?
I am very convinced that at nineteen and three quarters, Princess Leia Organa is the Junior Imperial Senator from Alderaan, a Rebel spy, and just…..the biggest godsdamn virgin.
She hides it a little better than Luke does, which is how most of the good-natured teasing misses her and falls on him. (The rest is because who on earth would tease her, stiff and vicious when provoked?)
Well, Solo would, but Solo seems to have all the self-preservation instincts of a headless weevil, so that’s his problem.
Anyway, that’s not the point.
The point is—she was a shouty, independent child and a difficult, overly defensive adolescent, and then she is senator, soldier and spy. It had been hard enough finding friends let alone anyone who wanted to kiss her.
An even smaller set: anyone who wanted to kiss her for just….her, and not her mother’s title.
(One of the Baronets kissed her once, in the cloakroom at a banquet to celebrate some Alderaanian festival. She let him, more out of novelty than anything else.
She had also kicked him in the testicles three days later, when she heard him bragging to their school friends he had made it with the princess.)
None of it’s really the point, it’s not the point, but it’s illustrative of the facts. She is senator/soldier/spy, with ‘person who experiences attraction or interest in specific sentient beings’ in the distant fourth place.
Though—well, though, she knew, in a distant sort of way. Pure political awe and the admiration of colleagues never really explained how she felt about Mon Mothma, how blushing and fluttery she got in briefings, or whenever Mothma complimented her work.
(Later, Han jokes that even with Luke off the table, Leia would still drop him like a hot grackle-cake if she thought Mothma would have her. “Don’t be silly,” Leia says, going pink.)
Even before that—there had been Syas Morcir, daughter of the Viceroy of Mandalore, the refugee princess fleeing persecution from the Empire. Breha and Bail had offered the Morcirs the protection of Alderaan, and Leia and Syas had become one anothers’ shadows, fastest confidantes.
One of the few true friends Leia could recall—Syas, with her sharp tongue, her anger, from whom Leia had no secrets. They’d pricked one another’s fingers, pressed them together and sworn they were blood sisters.
Sisters kissed all the time, Leia knew. Her mother was always kissing Leia’s aunts in greeting, embracing them warmly. It seemed natural when she and Syas did so.
(Leia didn’t feel that same intimacy again, not until Luke Skywalker came barreling into her life, dressed in stormtrooper armor and earnest.)
Even when—though by that point, Leia can’t accommodate anything more complicated than what she has, the strange and profound intimacy with Luke, the flinty-spark and burn with Han, she’s overwhelmed with all the affection she suddenly feels, finds herself receiving—
But sometimes Shara Bey works on her x-wing out on the duracrete, and at the sight of her arms, the muscles flexing beneath the skin, and—Leia makes an extremely undignified noise.
(What? She’s in the middle of something ineffably complicated and fraught, not blind. Luke glances in the direction she’s staring, slack-jawed and laughs for a solid three minutes.)
She’s settled into it more comfortably, by the time the war slinks back with new teeth. There’s grey in her hair and she’s not nineteen and three-quarters any longer. Love is stranger, aching, and better than she would have guessed then.
Leia once tries to make a joke in Pava’s direction—something harmless, she’s gotten good at that—but Pava goes red, and stammers, and Leia resists the urge to laugh. (Everything goes in circles. Everything—)
a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.
a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.
her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.
when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.
so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.
sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure – they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.
her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.
taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.
if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.
kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.
Marinette was staring in shock, and she quietly muttered to
Tikki, who was hiding in the collar of her shirt (honestly just to see the
chaos). “How the heck did this happen
“Your parents spotted them,” Tikki giggled, covering her
mouth with a tiny paw.
It had been a typical start to a movie night, up until Chat
and Queen Bee started to argue over what movie to watch.
“The Princess Bride is a classic!” Queen Bee hissed. “And I’m tired of your stupid anime!”
“You apologize to Hayao Miyazaki this instant!” Chat gave a
far more animalistic hiss back, brandishing his copy of Princess Mononoke.
“Do we get a say in this?” Vixen asked from where her head
was in Marinette’s lap, the girl’s fingers stroking through her hair.
“NO!” Both heroes
yelled, then froze as the trap door to Marinette’s room opened, a bemused Tom
and Sabine regarding the four, who at the moment were all doing admirable
impressions of deer in headlights.
Everyone remained still for several seconds, until Vixen
lazily raised a hand and waved. “Hey,
Mr. and Mrs. Dupain-Cheng.”
Tom cracked up, and Sabine playfully nudged her husband with
an elbow before smiling at the heroes in her daughter’s room. “If you wanted friends over, Marinette, you
could have just asked. You don’t have to
hide them up here.”
“If you’re having movie night, the TV in the living room is much
bigger, and you can use the couch,” Tom added. “And of course, you’ll need snacks.”
Marinette probably shouldn’t have been surprised by how all
three heroes perked up excitedly.
Which led her to now.
Marinette was trying to reconcile the sight of all three heroes in the
rest of her house, interacting and actually getting along with her parents.
Chat was the one that was breaking her brain the most. Out of all of them, he was the one she least
expected to know another language, but seeing him happily chatting away with
her mother in Mandarin had her re-evaluating her Kitty a little bit. The big goofball had some depth to him, it
Vixen was helping her construct a blanket nest on the couch,
while Queen Bee, of all people, was helping her father assemble a snack tray in
the kitchen. The normally brash heroine
seemed almost embarrassed at the warm attention and playful teasing from her
dad, but also seemed to be soaking it up.
“Queenie told me once, her mom died when she was little and
her dad doesn’t pay much attention to her,” Vixen whispered in her ear. “Let her have this.”
Marinette’s eyes widened, and she shot Vixen a slight
smile. “I don’t mind sharing if Queenie
“And that’s why we love you, girl.” Marinette yelped as
Vixen playfully tackled her to the couch, hugging her.
“Cat pile! Come on,
Queenie!” Chat was distracted from his conversation with Sabine, and soon
joined the dog cat pile on Marinette on the couch, which did nothing to
help Marinette’s giggles.
Queen Bee rolled her eyes, picking up the tray and using her
wings to make a quick hop over the couch and set it down on the table. “What are all of you, five?”
“Get down here and let us hug you.” Chat grinned, a hand
whipping out and hauling Queen Bee in, ignoring her yelp as he and Vixen
bracketed her in with their arms.
“Just let them get it out of their systems, it’ll be over
faster that way,” Marinette advised, voice serious but eyes twinkling in mirth.
“Ugh, you’re all so immature,” Queen Bee grumbled, sticking
her nose up in the air and thus completely missing Vixen’s mischievous smirk.
She didn’t miss it when the fox heroine playfully kissed her
cheek, though, and Vixen erupted into giggles as Queen Bee’s face burst into a
furious blush, even if she tried to play it off.
Marinette laughed, then flushed when Vixen pressed a kiss to
her cheek, only able to let out a squeak.
The sound of a movie trailer was their first clue that Chat
had crept off while they were occupied, and Queen Bee squawked indignantly,
squirming to free herself. “I said we
were going to watch The Princess Bride!”
“Well, you were busy, Queenie, so I fur-gured that I’d go
ahead and pop a movie in.” Chat smirked, and Marinette sighed as the argument
resumed for round 2.
Marinette completely missed her mother leaning up to kiss
her father’s cheek, then grinning at the foursome before murmuring to her
husband. “I’m so glad Marinette’s
getting along with her teammates.”
“They are all adorable, aren’t they? I get the feeling that Queen Bee doesn’t have
a very good home life,” Tom whispered back as they headed into their room with
a simple admonishment to try and keep the noise down a bit.
“I get the same from Chat Noir. We’ll have to make it clear that they’re
welcome to come over any time,” Sabine murmured.
“Well, of course.
They’re all good kids. I’m glad
Marinette has them backing her up.”
When Lily gets off the train, the first thing she hears is his voice, one she could recognise in the loudest of crowds.
She turns instinctively towards Harry who’s trying to wiggle himself out of his grandmother’s arms and, once he succeeds, nothing can stop him from wobbling as fast as he can towards his mum, like nothing can stop Lily from letting go of her bags and running towards him.
Mother and son meet again.
It’s barely been more than a week, but Lily feels like a lifetime has passed since she last held him in her arms. His laughter fills her ears like music and she kisses his cheeks until his little hands push her face away to take in the eyes that are just like his and have always meant comfort to him. To her, it feels like being reunited with a part of her body that she felt achingly missing all along.
hello, i was just thinking of some little sana+basketball headcanons :)
she’d sometimes see her brothers and the other boys in her neighbourhood play that game with the orange ball that bounces back when it hits the ground. one day, four year old sana saw a basketball left alone in their living room, and she couldn’t help but grin as she took it in her hands. and she lifted it up above her head and then she threw it to the ground, underestimating the force with which it would bounce back, and it started to bounce and bounce and bounce around the living room, and sana followed it with her eyes, hoping it would stop. but then it knocked off the vase on the coffee table and she simply stared at the mess with wide eyes and her hands covering her mouth. and her mother had heard the noise and she came to see what had happened and she let out a long sigh, hands on her hips, as she noticed the shattered glass and the water and the flowers. and then she saw her youngest one, hands behind her back, staring at the floor in shame
Through Dangers Untold ch 1 (Elucien Labyrinth AU)
Elain has made a grave mistake and wished her sisters away to the dangerous realm of the goblins. To get them back, she’ll have to navigate a maddening labyrinth—and go toe-to-toe with its powerful, enigmatic ruler. Elain finds herself drawn to the red-haired Goblin King, but is he the tragic, lovesick prince from her mother’s stories, or a wicked faerie who’s only toying with her?
Their mother did not spend a great deal of time with the Archeron sisters, even before she died. Their father was in charge of their education, and he passed it on to a rotating series of tutors; the nanny minded them at play, the cooks fed them, the dogs cuddled with them when they were upset.
But mama Archeron did one thing, often in her elaborate party dresses, putting them to bed while her guests laughed and drank downstairs: she told stories. Elain remembers them well, remembers how often little Feyre fell asleep halfway through, how Nesta would sulk and declare that she didn’t need stories, she was too old for them, and would end up listening raptly by the end anyway.
She remembers one story best of all, would request it over and over again.
“The Goblin King,” her mother says, her beautiful painted mouth tugging into a smile. “Was one of the High Fae, a very long time ago.”
Yeah, so… this ain’t no drabble. I’m sorry. I’ll be better (read: shorter) next time. Thank you so much for the prompt lovely anon!
54. Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash? 110. You passed out for like an hour. 53. Take off
If only Mulder had come with her.
Scully clings to the plate in her hand and fills it up with
little homemade snacks. They all look good, she thinks, even if she’s not
really hungry. She just needs a moment to herself, away from prying family
members she hasn’t seen in years, and the food buffet in the kitchen is the
best distraction she can find. And distraction is all she needs.
Because Mulder is not here.
She had asked him (almost begged him) to come with her today
to the annual Scully family gathering. Will Bill be there? He had mumbled against
her chest, his lips unable to remain still, kissing her, covering everything
they could reach. Part of her had wanted to lie; no, no, Bill won’t be there. His
mouth on her body, though, it had disarmed her. The other part of her, the one
she listened to most days, had reminded her that this was Mulder. The man she
loved. She was not going to start lying to him now that they were lovers.
But it doesn’t change anything now: She’s all alone here, plenty
of things on her mind, and the looks her family keep throwing her way make it
worse. She’s happy, of course she is, to spend time with her brothers – even
Charlie made it this year –, her nephews and nieces, her mother. Seeing her
cousins, new life partners, taller children – it’s all great, it’s exciting,
She just misses Mulder by her side.
Scully really doesn’t know when it started; the feeling must
have crept up on her these last few years. Clearly, she can manage her life
without him. Except. Something is different today. Something she has not found
time to talk about with him (or think about herself, really). She’s late. She’s
really late. Logic tells her that it’s a crazy notion; she’s barren, she knows
that, and yet. Yet, here she is. Her eyes wander over to her purse. Hidden
inside somewhere is a pregnancy test. She bought it on a whim on her way here
If only Mulder were here.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Dana,” one of her cousins apologizes
as she bumps into her at the buffet, “Are you all right? You look
pale. Here, have a sausage.” It’s one of those small, cocktail sausages
that Scully loves so much. Her mother probably bought them for her. Right now the
combination of the slightly wrinkly texture and the strong, fatty smell makes
“Uhm, I’m fine,” she croaks, willing her body to
relax; her stomach doesn’t listen, though, “Excuse me.” The plate
clatters loudly as her fingers let go of it. Scully grabs her purse and sprints
to the nearest bathroom. She locks the door, her stomach turning and churning,
and throws the purse on the ground. Her knees protest loudly as they come in contact
with the cold, hard tiles. There’s no time to think as her stomach lets go of
Flashbacks from her cancer explode before her eyes unasked.
Scully closes them, screws them shut, and refuses to think about that. There’s
a pregnancy test in her purse. As unlikely as it is, she thinks rinsing her
mouth, she has to try it. Take a pregnancy test. Her hands tremble as she
unpacks the small, elongated object. Scully knows too well how they work; she’s
wasted many of them during the failed IVF attempts. Her eyes catch her
reflection in the mirror. Her cousin was right: she does look pale. Her cheeks
are hollow, her eyes exhausted and glassy, and her skin just plain waxy.
If Mulder were here he’d tell her to just take the test. He’d
tell her not to worry, she thinks as she opens her zipper, pulls down her
pants. He’d assure her that everything, no matter what, would turn out just
fine. Mulder is a believer like that. Scully smiles, forgets that she’s peeing
on a stick for a moment, and clings to thoughts of Mulder.
Someone knocks on the door, startling Scully. She can’t stay
in here for another five minutes. Quickly, she wraps the test up in toilet
paper and carefully puts in her purse. She stuffs the boxing into the small
trash can, not even thinking about it. She flushes the toilet, washes her hands
and checks her face again. When she unlocks the door, she’s looking straight
into her mother’s eyes.
“Dana, there you are. Honey, what’s the matter? You’re
not sick, are you?” Of course there’s no fooling her mother.
“I’m fine, mom.”
“How about you lie down for a bit?” Gently, her
mother pushes her into the direction of one of the bedrooms.
“I’m fine, really.”
“Just relax a bit,” her mother ignores her,
“Our family can be quite exhausting.” She chuckles and Scully can’t
do anything but listen to her mother. She sits on the bed, still clinging to
her purse, feeling exhausted all of a sudden.
“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make sure no one bothers you.
Get some rest.” Her mother kisses her cheek and Scully feels tears dwell
up in her eyes. I might be pregnant, mom. The words, however, get twisted in
her tongue. So she simply nods, keeps the tears at bay, and remains still until
the door softly clicks shut. The tears fall silently now as Scully lies down,
clutching her purse, and quickly, without warning, falls asleep.
Even if she had been awake, behind the closed door she would
have not heard her mother exclaim loudly: “Why’s there a pregnancy test in
“Wakey wakey.” Mulder chuckles next to her, his
breath tickling her cheek. Mulder? She must be dreaming. Without opening her
eyes, her lips curl upwards into a warm smile. A soft caress on her cheek and
she sighs. What a wonderful dream, she decides.
“I miss you, Mulder.” She mumbles, caught between
sleeping and waking.
“I’m right here. All you need to do is open your
“Hmm?” Scully opens one eye, sees a blurry version
of what could be Mulder, and opens the second one. “Take off your
shirt.” She demands and he does as he’s told. Scully traces the scar on
his shoulder, the one she put there, and yes, this is real, she decides. It’s
“Mulder, what are you doing here?” The words feel
like lead on her tongue and she swallows. Her mouth is much too dry. Mulder, as
if reading her mind, hands her a glass of water.
“I thought you might want me here after all.”
There’s a shy smile playing on his face, slightly tinged with shadows of guilt.
“Hm, always. But why? Why now? I don’t even know what
time it is.” She sits up in bed with some difficulty as Mulder puts his
shirt back on.
“Your mom said you passed out for like an hour.”
“Oh my god.” An hour. The pregnancy test. The
purse is pushed aside and she stares at it now. She fell asleep before she
could even think about any of it. And now Mulder is here. She must have dreamed
him here. He’d probably love to hear her say - even think - these words.
“Are you all right? Your mother said you weren’t
feeling well.” Mulder is rubbing her back and suddenly she understands.
“She called you.” She states and Mulder nods
“She was worried about you and she thought that uhm,
maybe I should be here. Is there anything to worry about, Scully?”
“No,” she answers quickly,“ well,
maybe.” She admits, biting her lip, feeling like the purse is now staring
at her. Daring her to look at the test.
“Scully? You’re really scaring me here.”
“I’m sorry, Mulder, “she puts her hand on his
stubbly cheek, “It’s just… I don’t really know how to say this. We’ve
never talked about it before and now- I don’t know how to say it.”
“Scully, you can tell me anything. You know that.”
She nods without looking at him.
“I wanted you here all day for this,” she reaches
for her purse, “So I guess it’s a good thing I fell asleep.” Scully
chuckles and immediately quiets when she catches Mulder’s confused look.
“It’s something we haven’t really talked about. Not…
not like this anyway,” his face reminds her that she’s not making any
sense, “Maybe it’s all a moot point anyway.” She takes a deep breath,
reaches into her purse and takes out the toilet paper wrapped bundle. Glancing
at it, she offers it to Mulder instead.
“Uhm, thank you?” He picks it apart layer by crumpled
up layer. For a moment he stares at the stick then his face lifts up to meet
hers. His lips are opened slightly, ready to say something, but there are no
“A pregnancy test.”
“I… Scully, I thought you… I thought. It wasn’t the
IVF, I mean that was, uhm… it really wasn’t the IVF, was it?” Mulder still
holds the test in both hands, stares at it like it’s made of gold.
“What does it say?” Her voice quivers, she
realizes, and she is thankful that this time she’s not alone.
“You don’t know?” Mulder’s eyes give nothing away
but his surprise.
“No, I fell asleep before the time was up. What does it
say? Do I want to know?”
“Oh, I think you want to know.” He grins, holding
up the stick with shaky hands, showing her the impossible.
Note: Hi Everyone. I wrote a Thing. Many thanks to @mulder-fight-him and @kateyes224 for encouraging me to write it and for making it not suck. As this is the first Thing I’ve written in over a year, I’d appreciate any feedback. Except the feedback of “You suck, this sucks, never write again.” My brain tells me that every time I write a Thing, I don’t need you telling me that too. :-)
She is a coffee connoisseur. Dripped from a
contraband coffeemaker in a dorm room during an all-nighter to try to
understand biochemistry. Gulped without tasting, still scalding hot, as she ran
between patients. Sipped from a mug that warmed her hands as her eyes twinkled
at her lover in his parents’ cabin after an unsuccessful ice fishing
And then…Styrofoam cups in police stations,
ranging from barely palatable to resembling raw sewage. Fuel just to keep up
with her brilliant partner and his spooky leaps of logic. Picked up from gas
stations and drive thrus, as they ran from case to case. Chipped mugs in diners
with free refills, as they tried to find enough motivation to chase down
endless dead ends on the search for the one lead that would answer the
question, slay the monster, save the day. Pots made in a dingy basement office
and then ignored as their arguments about the merits of the case energized them
more fully than any caffeine could, where winning meant they would stay in the
musty dark room but losing meant traipsing through fields in the rain and
chasing Bigfoot. She’d never admit it, but she there were times when she
preferred it when she lost, because losing meant a new chance to share a secret
world with this man, one no outsider would ever understand.
She had opinions on the quality of coffee around
the country. She could tell whether she’d have heartburn from it with just a
sniff of the air as she walked into the convenience store – often before the
bell on the door had stopped chiming. She knew which chains refilled their
carafes regularly and would request stops there.
One convenience store in Utah had no coffee, the
Mormon cashier saying that caffeine was against his religion, but could he
interest her in a coke instead? Mulder had laughed as she had ranted about
ignorance, the comparative levels of caffeine in cola versus coffee, her First
Amendment rights, and the heartburn caused by the carbonation for the next 50
But she didn’t remember the taste of the most
important cups of coffee in her life.
The mug she left half finished at her mother’s
kitchen table after scattering her father’s ashes, claiming a work emergency so
she could make a quick escape because she couldn’t handle expecting her father
to join them any second, complaining that they hadn’t saved him any, stealing
sips from her mother’s cup as they talked and he waited for a refill to brew.
The disposable cup Mulder had pressed into her
fist in a Minneapolis field office, giving a statement as she tried to regain
her professionalism after losing her composure in front of 20 agents.
The pots she made in her mother’s kitchen,
drifting on autopilot after they had buried her sister. That day, she tried a
bag of “Tranquil Moments” herbal tea Melissa had left in the cupboard and had
once tried to make her drink because it “isn’t healthy for you to be running
around nonstop, Dana, you need a chance to breathe too.”
The cup a week after her first round of chemo,
which tasted like metal covered in dirt. She had spat it back into the mug and
thrown up in the kitchen sink. For months afterwards, she’d silently accepted
every cup Mulder offered her, but threw it out as soon as his back was turned.
The coffee breaks she’d shared with Mulder while
they were stuck on Kersh’s fertilizer duty, walking down the street to the
hipster coffee shop with the twenty year old whose facial hair changed weekly.
After one particularly awful session in the AD’s office, Mulder had asked for
an application, and the barista laughed, assuming he was joking. She was only
half sure he wasn’t.
A thermos full of Irish coffee as they propped
themselves against the chain link backstop of an abandoned baseball diamond,
talking about everything and nothing, still feeling the heat of his body
pressed against her back and wondering if she should have turned around and
kissed him when she had the chance.
The slow brews she’d shared with Mulder on lazy
Sunday mornings, the taste chased from her tongue by Mulder’s slow kisses.
The ones she’d refused while pregnant and
nursing, the lack of sleep and caffeine adding a dream-like state to the
months, so that when she looked back at that time, it took on an otherworldly
sheen. (It didn’t help that any explanation of those two years sounded
absurdist to any outside observer – “My partner was abducted by aliens,
returned dead, buried for three months and then exhumed because he wasn’t dead,
just in stasis.” “Even though I had no ova due to experiments conducted on me
against my will by a shadow government, I had a baby who was considered the
greatest single threat to an alien invasion and consequently was in constant
danger until I gave him up for adoption.”)
The cup that sat on her mother’s table as she
tried desperately to explain herself, (“I don’t think I’ll ever understand,”
her mother had responded tearfully), her own tears blurring her vision as her
mother kissed her grandson goodbye for the last time.
The rushed caffeine fixes on the run, cups she
picked up at 5AM in truck stops, wearing a hoodie that covered hair dyed blond,
brown, black, and even for a little while back to red, while Mulder hid in a
run-down motel room. She couldn’t remember the taste of anything during those
months, fear chasing all the flavor away.
And then, once again, gulping scalding servings
down between patients, children this time, as she saved other people’s babies
because she was unable to care for her own.
Impromptu coffee dates with Mulder, him sipping
his morning coffee with bleary eyes and bed head, her drinking a cup of decaf
before bed, smelling of antiseptic soap and latex, fighting sleep because she
hadn’t seen him in three days and she missed him.
The cup she made all alone in his kitchen (no
longer hers, all her belongings packed up and in the back of her car), leaving
the pot mostly full so he’d have something to drink when he ambled out of his
lair, washing the mug so it wouldn’t sit in the sink for days before walking
out the door.
Then one day, the coffee pot ignored once again
in the basement as they discussed cases, tentatively at first as they tried to
regain their footing, then found themselves and each other again. One morning,
as she dropped her briefcase off in her area, looking at his desk in his
office, she wondered if she hadn’t found herself back in the same endless
circle. Then Mulder had shaken her out of her musings with a hand on her
shoulder and a discolored mug as an offering. Their fingers touched and she
realized that they aren’t circling back to the start but traveling onwards
The coffee Mulder made as she tried to arrange
her mother’s funeral, untouched in the carafe as she thought about her
reuniting with Ahab and Missy, and jealously wishing that she’d be with them
soon (but only for a moment before pushing the forbidden thought out of her
And then, one night, the specialty coffees
Mulder brought to her apartment, sitting untouched on her kitchen counter as
they fell into bed together again. She made a fresh pot for him the next
sun started to disappear over the brick buildings of Maas University, painting
the sky pink and gold; clouds stretched out for miles. Cassian’s heart felt
heavy in his chest as he and Nesta crossed the parking lot, weaving past dozens
of teenagers. He didn’t want to leave; he made himself put one foot in front of
the other, making way to his jeep.
against the vehicle, Cassian eyed the sunset, the sky making the red finish on
the jeep darker. Crossing his ankles, Cassian’s heart squeezed inside his chest
as he leaned back, his elbow resting against the hood.
beside him, Nesta’s face was imperial and closed off, her blue grey eyes bright
against the setting sun; eyelashes casting shadows onto her ivory skin. Taking
her hand in his, he brought it to his lips before brushing her knuckles with
his thumb. Shoulders relaxing almost imperceptibly, his wife looked at him. She
didn’t want to leave either.
Summary: Marinette and Chat define their
relationship using actual words. Shocker I know.
Marinette paced back and forth.
Marinette was in her room after having to
explain her sudden disappearance to her mother. It was hard to since she
obviously hadn’t wanted to mention that she was making out with a freaking
superhero. So she made an excuse about wanting to get some clothing scraps and
forgetting to text her and surprisingly her mother seemed to buy it.
The only problem left was that she still hadn’t
talked to Chat. She just couldn’t handle it. Especially after spending all
morning thinking about how they had kissed the night before. When Chat had
shown up out of the blue and offered looked at her like that, well, she just couldn’t help herself.
Though being unable to help herself apparently
wasn’t enough of an excuse for her little Kwami friend. Tikki had taken to periodically
rolling her eyes at her gushing about the kisses and chiding her for not
talking to Chat. Marinette didn’t really feel like that was fair. She was
definitely going to talk to him. Eventually.
She groaned and threw herself onto her chaise.
If only the silly kitty hadn’t taken her heart
in the first place. It was becoming apparent, even to her, that she wasn’t
going to get it back. Her heart beat harder and faster whenever he was around
and she constantly wanted to be closer to him. It was almost like she had
fallen… in love…
Marinette shot up from her chaise and
whimpered. “Oh no, I’m in love with Chat.” She realized.
Tikki rolled her big eyes from Marinette’s
desk. “Really? You just figured this out now?”
Marinette pouted her cheeks flushed. “How
was I supposed to know?”
Tikki shook her little head. “You’ve made
out with him twice in two days.” She pointed out.
Marinette remained stubborn with a pout on her
Tikki floated over to her and grabbed both her
cheeks. “You even started it both times!” She said mushing the girl’s
cheeks together before finally letting go with a harrumph.
“Ow.” Marinette muttered as she
rubbed her cheeks. “Fine. I should’ve figured it out sooner. Happy?”
“That isn’t even the point
Marinette.” Tikki smiled gently at her. “You need to talk to Chat about this-” She
gestured to Marinette with a paw. “—thing, that’s going on between the two
Marinette looked down. “Okay Tikki, I’ll
talk to him.” She looked back up at her Kwami with a confidant smile, only
for her to have disappeared. “Tikki-?”
Chat rolled off her bed and dropped onto her
floor with a quiet thud.
Smile forgotten Marinette gingerly made her way
to the cat and prodded him in the side.
He turned his head towards her. “Stop
that.” He said with a pout.
She giggled and poked him again. He growled at
her and when she didn’t stop he flipped over, grabbed her arm, and pulled her
on top of him. He let his hands rest on the curve of her back.
Marinette was so happy she couldn’t wait any
longer. She smiled widely at him. “Iloveyou!” She squeaked out.
The shock on his face made her smile dim slightly.
“You what?” He managed to gasp out.
She stared him straight in the eye and smiled
nervously. “I lo-um. I loooo-er.” She groaned quietly and let her
head drop onto his chest.
Chat swallowed. “Are you trying to say,
that you love me?” He lifted her chin so he could see her face.
Marinette answered by pressing her lips gently
to his. He allowed it for a moment before she pulled back. “That’s a yes I
take it?” He asked.
Marinette nodded, a flush on her cheeks.
Chat chuckled deep in his chest. “I love
you too, Princess.” He purred.
Since she was laying across his chest Marinette
could feel the chuckle and the purr. She hummed happily in response to his
words and smiled so wide it hurt.
Chat grinned back. “So, does this mean
you’re my princess now?”
She giggled and pressed a kiss to his chin.
“Only if you’re my prince.” She murmured.
“And here I thought I was your
knight.” He teased.
Marinette smirked and flicked his bell.
“You’re a little higher ranked than that now.”
He purred and flipped them over so that he was
above her on his elbows. “Would you say I’m on top of you?” He
wiggled is eyebrows.
She rolled her eyes and laughed before putting
her hands on his cheeks and tugging him down to her lips.
Chat slowly relaxed into the kiss as his eyes
Marinette’s arms fell to the ground and she
smiled into the kiss when she heard him purr.
They broke apart a second later and stared into
one another eyes as they tried to catch their breaths.
“This feels familiar.” Marinette
Chat looked at her confused. “What do you
Marinette suddenly paled. “Uh, nothing!
We’re just kissing again is all!” She said nervously.
“Why don’t we familiarize ourselves
further then?” He pressed his lips against her neck and she could feel her
“S-sure.” She moaned. The feeling of
his soft lips on her neck was making her head spin.
She couldn’t stop the embarrassing sounds
coming from her lips at the heavenly feeling of his gentle kisses and licks.
When he copied her bite from yesterday she let out a small mewling sound that
made Chat grin against her neck.
To wipe the grin off his face she gently pulled
his head back by his hair and forced her tongue into his mouth.
From where she was under him she could feel his purr get louder. As his tongue
weaved against her own she buried her hands deeper into his fluffy hair.
Chat pulled back a bit and Marinette’s tongue
chased him. This let Chat grasp her tongue and, using his mouth, sucked gently
on it. She couldn’t help but moan at the strange feeling. He stopped after a
moment and pulled back. A thin string of saliva still connected them.
“So that’s where you disappeared to
Marinette and Chat jumped away from each other at
Sabine’s sudden entrance. Once they were both away from each other Marinette
tried to desperately wipe away the saliva on her chin while Chat spoke.
“This isn’t what is looks like!”
Marinette gave him a look that said ‘Are you kidding me?’ he looked back at her
Sabine smiled and shook her head. “I think
you two were kissing. Am I wrong?” She asked coyly.
Marinette sighed, defeated. “Yes Maman, we
Sabine hummed in consideration and used her
hand to cover an amused smile. “I’m assuming you weren’t getting scraps to
design with then?”
Marinette grabbed at her arm guiltily.
“Yes. I mean no I wasn’t.” She looked away from her mother. “I
was kissing Chat then too.” She blushed.
Sabine giggled excitedly. Marinette looked at
her with dread.
“I see how it is.” Sabine murmured.
“Marinette, would your boyfriend mind staying for dinner?” Her eyes
Marinette paled. “Of course madam. I would
be honored.” Chat said, ignoring Marinette shaking her head rapidly at
him. When He finished speaking she groaned in defeat.
“Sounds great!” Sabine said cheerfully.
“I’ll call you two downstairs when it’s ready.” She smiled and then
added with a wink as she left. “Have fun!”
Marinette turned red. “Maman!” Her
mother giggled as she shut the hatch.
The two stood awkwardly for a moment before
Chat finally broke the silence. “Boyfriend huh?” He looked at her intensely.
Marinette shifted on her feet nervously.
“Yeah, I mean… if that’s fine with you?” She asked, their eyes
Starring: Erika Linder, Natalie Krill, Sebastian Pigott, Mayko Nguyen, Tommie-Amber Pirie, Melanie Leishman, Andrea Stefancikova
Story: Dallas (Erika Linder), a womanising
butch lesbian, who just broke up with her girlfriend, meets Jasmine (Natalie
Krill) at a bar. Intrigued by the engaged woman, Dallas seduces her and they
spent a weekend together. Their affair finds a sudden end when Jasmine’s fiancé
Rile (Sebastian Pigott) returns home from a weekend away.
Disclaimer: I watched the movie together
with three friends at the premiere in Austria in a cinema full of lesbian and
bi women, which was a very fun experience and might have influenced how I perceived
All-female crew: Director April
Mullen shot the movie with an all-female crew. This alone should be reason
enough to watch it.
Sex scenes: The film shows many
sex scenes, most of them very well shot. What I think is a problem with many
films with a sapphic love story is that they either can’t include much apart
from a few kisses because of the rating or the sex scenes are overly stylised.
For all its flaws, Below Her Mouth
manages to avoid that. Also, many of the scenes include a strap-on.
(Unintentional) Humour: Much
has been said about the script and the (presumably) wooden dialogue. The movie
is a small indie production which doesn’t have the money to hire script doctors
and “improve” the script until nothing is left of the first draft. Instead, it
shows that Stephanie Fabrizi, who wrote the script, put work into it. The movie
is just a lot of fun to watch and you can forgive lines like, “That’s my
favourite tree”. It doesn’t take itself too seriously.
Dallas: This is more of an
observation than an actual positive thing about the movie, but the three friends
I watched the movie with agreed that Dallas is attractive and very hot; so, if
you don’t watch the movie for anything else, at least watch it for Dallas.
Cheating: It’s established in
the beginning that Rile isn’t the nicest boyfriend, but this is no excuse for
Jasmine to cheat on him. Jasmine and Dallas’ whole affair has an air of “they
shouldn’t be doing that”. Sometimes, the movie is similar to Imagine Me & You, with the slight
difference that Jasmine in “only” engaged.
Ending: At the beginning of the
movie, the audience gets the feeling that Dallas is only interested in Jasmine
because she can’t have her, so when they get together in the end, it’s
important to ask the question if their relationship can last. Another factor to
consider is that Dallas tends to break up with women quickly, but she seems
changed in the end, so I’m rooting for them.
Homophobia: 0/10 – There is no homophobia
in the movie.
Violence: 0/10 – There is no violence
against characters because of their sexual orientation.
Ending: The movie has a happy ending,
Dallas and Jasmine get (and stay) together.
Sexual orientation: Dallas is the kind of
lesbian who “always knew” she was exclusively attracted to women. Jasmine’s
sexuality is left open to interpretation. She can be read as both bi and
lesbian. She is engaged to a man and she has never had a girlfriend or just sex
with a woman. She also tells Dallas that she once had a “thing” with a girl,
but when her mother found them kissing, she made sure they didn’t see each other again. So Jasmine could be bi, but she can also be read as a lesbian who
supressed her feelings for women out of guilt. In the end, she is much happier
with Dallas than she was with Rile.
Note: I really enjoyed the movie and I
tried to be as objective as possible, but if you get a chance to see it at the cinema,
please go. You won’t regret it.
“Tell me again, Sherlock… Tell me, and I’ll go to bed.”
And Rosie Watson crosses her pudgy little arms over her chest. Pouts up at her godfather.
With her short blond hair and large blue eyes she looks uncannily like her late mother, and she’s old enough- and cunning enough- to take advantage of the fact.
Mary Watson would expect nothing less.
The unfortunate adult she’s currently using her superpowers on- one Sherlock Holmes- glowers down at her in a vague approximation of sternness, something which has the usual effect on her. (Namely none). She’s been asking to hear the same bedtime story for the last half hour and there’s no way he’s going to give in- Best she accept that.
He will train her as he once trained John.
From the sofa he hears a small snort and throws the same glower in its direction, his eyes coming to rest on Rosie’s other godparent, one Molly Hooper, specialist registrar. “Hey,” she says with a smile, “don’t look at me: You’re the one who fed her cake all day-
I told you this might happen.”
Sherlock’s glower turns darker, though it too has no discernible effect upon its subject.
It probably says something about the sort of women whose company he frequents.
“Really, Molly,” he chides. “We’re supposed to be presenting a united front when we act in loco parentis! John will be scandalised!”
“John won’t bat an eyelid and you know it.” Molly laughs and Rosie giggles in unison, throwing her a conspiratorial smile; She’s at that age where everything the young pathologist does is absolutely delightful as far as she’s concerned, so of course she takes Molly’s side.
Little traitor, Sherlock thinks.I’m supposed to be your favourite.
As he thinks this he pouts, and this makes Rosie giggle more, throwing her arms around his legs and demanding to be picked up so he won’t be cross anymore.
“Please, Uncle Sherlock, please!” she says. “I promise I’ll be good!”
He lasts about two seconds before he caves, picking her up and holding her close. As soon as she’s in his arms he finds himself smiling at her- little fiend!- and tickling her. Bouncing her. Her tiny hands pat his face, smoothing out the frown lines between his eyebrows, and they smush their faces together. He kisses the tip of her nose and she laughs.
Still giggling, he whooshes her through the air, pretending she can fly, and as he does she claps in delight, asking for, “More! More!”- and then, “higher, Sherlock. higher!”
With a laugh, he obliges; From the corner of his eye he sees Molly smile and pretends he doesn’t.
Her face has pinked and her eyes are sparkling.
He pretends he doesn’t see that either, however much it smarts.
After all, he’s been good where Molly’s concerned. Very good. Ever since the Sherrinford Incident and its fallout, he’s made a point of being a good friend to her. Of not waylaying her with his romantic, pining nonsense. Of helping her get over him and get on with her life.