Do you ever feel like an alien? Like you’re an outsider looking in? Seeing people living their lives, experiencing different situations and emotions that seem so foreign to you.. like how do people fall in love so easily? How do they maintain deep relationships with others?.. I’ve always felt like I was just imitating people.. like I never really knew how to live in this world because it was never meant for me. Whoever brought me here forgot to give me the key that would unlock the doors to this universe which would allow me to really live my life and not just be a spectator of how other people live theirs…
PLOT: AU~ Mon-El awakens after escaping Daxam to find himself fighting for his life on a world where aliens battle in a gladiator-like arena as spectators watch and bet on the matches. To survive, he’ll have to learn fast, and trust someone from a planet he’d never dreamt of trusting before.
A/N: Okay so, after this chapter, the story is obviously going to go in a bit of a different direction. It’ll be more about healing and ya know, discovering how to have a relationship outside of such a toxic environment. ALSO: GIF ISN’T MINE!
Kara heaved Mon-El up the steps of a pod. She dropped him awkwardly into the co-pilot’s chair and then sat down in the other. A small console separated them, and she took a long moment, examining all the controls. She flipped switches and he watched through swollen eyelids.
She put her hand on the controls between them, and their ship pulled forwards. It made a strange clanking noise, and he looked up at her.
“It’s probably just old.” She said, trying to disguise her fear.
He nodded and looked out the window, watching the empty hangar pass by. A body lay in a corner, and he looked away. She flew through a purple shield, and there they were. A vast array of stars lay around them. He leaned forwards, holding in a groan of pain.
He touched the glass and looked out into the expanse. “Wow,” he breathed.
She glanced over at him and smiled sadly. She turned forwards again and began to plug in coordinates. He looked at her curiously.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” He asked.
She jerked her head to meet his gaze, and then, swallowing, averted her eyes. “Yeah, sure.”
“Kara…” He breathed, reaching out for her hand.
She almost pulled away, but then, she let his fingers wrap around hers on the control console between them. She took a deep breath and a firm tone, saying:
“I’m fine, Mon-El,” she looked into his blue eyes, “really.”
“Who says it’s about you?” He smirked through the dried blood covering his cheeks, “Maybe I just need to hold someone’s hand.”
She smiled and turned her hand over, clutching him back. He sighed and turned back to the stars as they sat, mere inches from him. She watched him slowly.
“It’s certainly better than our last view.” She said dryly and he snorted.
“I dunno, I didn’t always mind the view.” He looked up at her and she rolled her eyes, looking in front of them again.
“Who knew a Daxamite could be so cheeky.” she said sarcastically, smirking and he laughed, leaning against the headrest of his seat.
“Who knew a Kryptonian could be so stuck up.” He countered and she scoffed, smiling slightly.
“I said I liked it better than our other view!” She said defensively.
“Yes well, that’s real high praise.” He said facetiously.
She sighed, “I just wanna get home, that’s all.”
“I know.” He said softly. “How much longer?”
“About a day,” She said, “maybe one and a half. We’ll probably get there early in the morning.”
“Early enough to see the sunrise?” He asked softly and she looked at him as if she couldn’t believe he’d remembered those conversations they both treasured.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “You know, I think we just might make it.”
This show is like a funeral. it sucks doing this show every night. sing about death, why did i do this to myself? and yet, i find some kind of transcendence every evening bringing into the universe my misery, sharing it with you, it’s a shared experience. it’s an exchange of energy, it’s an exchange of emotions and sound. it’s so important to do this in public with you and to look out and see the multiplicity of experience, all the faces. the breath, the heartbeat, the life is so important to me, to be a spectator of that. even though you’re watching me, i’m also watching you, and it just keeps me going, keeps me alive.
My sense experience of the world made me feel the absurdity of things in a sharpened manner. In a tacit and infinite space each thing was separated razor-sharply, isolated in an unlimited void, divided from all other things. In spite of a complete being of oneself, without connection to the surroundings, it initiated its existence. (…) I felt rejected by the world, beyond the scope of life as if I was a spectator in a chaotic picture in which I failed to participate.
A young schizophrenic girl’s account of her mental disorder (Secheyaye, Journal d'une schizophrène, p. 50)
Sometimes it felt as you were mere spectator in your own life. Sure, you made decisions in your life, but you still more than anything enjoyed just watching the life around you. People around you, who were living completely different story than you. It was exciting.
And so that is what you did. You watched the life around you, almost forgoting that you had life of your own. But then your friends got enough and they dragged you into dancing lessons and skating lessons.
And there it happened. There was someone who was oozing with bright light, it almost blinded you. Radiant and warm personality. That’s exactly how you would describe that man. And who was it?
His name was Christophe Giacometti and in the world of nothing, he was something.
It was clear to most people around you, because they just loved him. Girls in the ice-skating lessons were swooning over him and guys got jealous of him. Once again you felt like that shadow in the corner of the room. Not necessary unwanted, but still not needed.
"Life is not a spectator sport. Win, lose or draw, the game is in progress, whether we want it to be, or not. So, go ahead, argue with the refs, change the rules… cheat a little, take a break… and tend to your wounds. But play. Play. Play hard. Play fast. Play loose and free. Play as if there’s no tomorrow."
"Change… We don’t like it, we fear it. But we can’t stop it from coming. We either adapt to change, or we get left behind. It hurts to grow. Anybody who tells you it doesn’t, is lying."
"Don’t wonder why people go crazy. Wonder why they don’t in the face of all we can loose in a day, in an instant. Wonder what the hell it is that makes us hold it together."
"When we follow our hearts, when we choose not to settle, it’s funny isn’t it? A weight lifts. The sun shines a little brighter and for a brief moment at least, we find a little peace."
"In some ways we grow up, we have families, we get married, divorced but for the most part we still have the same problems we had we when we were fifteen. No matter how much we grow taller, grow older, we are still forever stumbling, forever wondering, forever young"
"Deep down, everyone wants to believe they can be hardcore but being hardcore isn’t just about being tough. It’s about acceptance. Sometimes you have to give yourself permission not to be hardcore for once. You don’t have to be tough every minute of every day."
"We all think we’re going to be great. And we feel a little bit robbed when our expectations aren’t met. But, sometimes, our expectations sell us short. Sometimes, the expected simply pales in comparison to the unexpected."
Too often, the thing you want most, is the one thing you can’t have. Desire leaves us heartbroken. It wears us out. Desire can wreck your life.
"That knowing, is better than wondering. That waking, is better than sleeping. And that even the biggest failure, even the worst, most intractable mistake, beats the hell out of never trying."
"Failure is inevitable, unavoidable but failure should never get the last word. You have to hold on to what you want. You have to not take no for an answer and take what’s coming to you. Never give in, never give up."
"At some point, you have to make a decision. Boundaries don’t keep other people out, they fence you in. Life is messy. That’s how we’re made. So you can waste your life drawing lines… or you can live your life crossing them."
"Heaven, hell, limbo. No one really knows where we’re going or what’s waiting for us when we get there but the one thing we can say for sure with absolute certainty is that there are moments that take us to another place. Moments of heaven on earth and maybe for now thats all we need to know."
i have this happen to me from time to time and i don’t know what it is, but whenever i’m doing something i suddenly think that i’m not in real life and i’m a spectator of what’s happening? i have to pinch my arm to go back to normal, but it can happen whenever i think about it. i feel out of my body and look at my surroundings like they are not really happening now. i don’t know what it is, but if anyone has an idea can you please tell me?
HEY TOTALLY RANDOM WHAT IF JAMES/BILLIE HAD A BABY.
send me a ship and I’ll tell you their:
NAME: tbh i like to imagine john 1.) in lowkey honor of billie’s brother (who isn’t named john but she calls him jack, jack-jack, y’know) 2.) shoutout to john lowe who billie almost called an idiot but was restrained from doing so. and i can’t decide on james or william as the middle name R I P
GENDER: baby boy !!!!
GENERAL APPEARANCE: tall if he wouldn’t slouch so much, lanky. he takes after billie in the fact that his hair is always a bit of a mess no matter what he does to it. typically nonthreatening/unassuming from a distance.
PERSONALITY: he’s more of an ‘assistant/observer’ than either james or ophelia, but he’ll partake in the family craft himself without fuss. and tbh that’s really his position in life ?? a lot more of a spectator
in a family of doers. kinda quiet, but that leads people to unfortunately trust him more. he takes after billie’s sister lousia a lot surprisingly ?? with a hint of her husband, you’d think he was stolen too.
SPECIAL TALENTS: a GREAT liar/manipulator, very good at altering people’s perceptions when he wants to. great at distracting people from what’s really going on (a talent taught to him especially by his older sister).
WHO THEY LIKE BETTER: dont make him CHOOSE but there’s something about how Wild™ billie is that he has to admire/find amusing. he’s a bit of a mama’s boy.
WHO THEY TAKE AFTER MORE: ehhhh i’d say ?? a possible mix of both and neither.
PERSONAL HEADCANON: there’s no reason for him to even know HOW to cook but he does. he’s not bad at it so much so that he’s pulled a ‘hannibal’ once or twice out of desperation.
seamus davey fitzpatrick, e.zra miller, and a/dam d.river
Hey guys - I haven’t really been on here much lately as I am pretty focused on IRL stuff at the moment, but just wanted to say that while I’m not on a hiatus per se, I am just not checking Tumblr regularly and that will probably be the case for a while. I am actually going to probably delete the app from my phone for a while (as it can be distracting), and just check in via laptop here and there. Just an FYI in case I am slow to respond to anything. All is well with me, I’m just busy with other things and paying much needed attention to things I neglected for so long (like actually LIVING life instead of being a spectator, LOL) in my previously depressed state. I hope all of you are well.
Since I mentioned it before, I hate “The Reader” for pretty much all the reasons listed here. Read the whole thing. But if you don’t have enough time, here’s the money quote:
Indeed, so much is made of the deep, deep exculpatory shame of illiteracy—despite the fact that burning 300 people to death doesn’t require reading skills—that some worshipful accounts of the novel (by those who buy into its ludicrous premise, perhaps because it’s been declared “classic” and “profound”) actually seem to affirm that illiteracy is something more to be ashamed of than participating in mass murder. From the Barnes & Noble Web site summary of the novel: “Michael recognizes his former lover on the stand, accused of a hideous crime. And as he watches Hanna refuse to defend herself against the charges, Michael gradually realizes that she may be guarding a secret more shameful than murder.” Yes, more shameful than murder! Lack of reading skills is more disgraceful than listening in bovine silence to the screams of 300 people as they are burned to death behind the locked doors of a church you’re guarding to prevent them from escaping the flames. Which is what Hanna did, although, of course, it’s not shown in the film. As I learned from the director at a screening of The Reader, the scene was omitted because it might have “unbalanced” our view of Hanna, given too much weight to the mass murder she committed, as opposed to her lack of reading skills. Made it more difficult to develop empathy for her, although it’s never explained why it’s important that we should.