my date with her

Date the girl who’s too light to touch the ground. Her ballast heart is easily swayed and her eyes hold more water than the seas. Date the girl who’s laughter greets the dawn and you cannot stop hearing it.


You’re Not My Mom

TW: references to past-alcoholism. Also, a bit of angst. 

Note: This is a snippet. Probs going to post the rest of it later after I get some studying done.

@nerdsbianhokie Feel free to let me know what you think, yeah?

-

Alex sat at the bar. Her finger absently drummed across the wooden top. She hadn’t had a drink in years, not since Dylan’s kidnapping. Not since Maggie and Lucy had brought her drinking habits to light and made her get help. Now, the urge to knock back a scotch or seven burned viciously in her throat. Only M’gann’s watchful gaze kept her from snatching a beer from the guy next to and had her glaring a hole into the bar.

-

“You’re not my real mom! You just happen to be dating her!”

-

Dylan’s furious words echoed around in Alex’s head. It was the only thing she could think about. As unaffected as she tried to appear over them, they hurt more than she cared to admit. Whether he knew it or not, Dylan had vocalised a sincere fear she had been carrying since he was born: that he would never consider her family.

I want a drink. A wave of self-loathing swept over Alex at the thought. She had gone nearly a decade without a drop of alcohol. She had endured a great deal in that time: adopting Maggie’s teenage sister, a routine call that had been anything but and nearly claimed Maggie’s life, a breach at the Desert Base and losing communication with Lucy for several agonising hours, raising a surly preteen, and more. None of that had ever driven her to drink since her recovery. And yet, here she was: in a dingy alien bar.

“Hey, my bar’s not dingy, Danvers,” M’gann protested.

Alex just grunted. Okay, so maybe that was a bit harsh.

“You think?”

She rolled her eyes, but said nothing else. Instead, she chose to glare at the bar with an intensity that she typically reserved for the worst criminals and Maxwell Lord.

A glass of… something plonked itself in front of her. She looked up.

“I know I thought I wanted a drink, M’gann, but trust me, it’s a bad idea.” Alex knew that if she knocked one back, it would quickly be followed by seven more. And then those seven would be followed by a bottle of Jack and a healthy helping of vodka. Her liver wept at the thought.

“I’m not stupid enough to give you alcohol right now, Danvers.” M’gann’s tone was harsh and biting, but the under it, her concern was evident. Alex wanted to hate her for it. “It’s just Kordovian ale.”

Calling it an ale was generous. For anyone without a Kordovian physiology, it was nothing more than a flavoured water. The sweet taste meant it was quite the popular choice of drink for many who wanted to be social without getting drunk. And it was one of the few things that M’gann served to patrons with a history of alcohol issues.

Alex grudgingly took the drink. She eyed the glass distrustfully. She’d had it before and actually enjoyed it. This time though, she wasn’t quite sure about it. She moved the glass to her lips, ready to throw it back like a shot of whiskey, but decided at the last minute to sip it instead. Honey and sugar-laced flowers surrounded her taste buds.

It doesn’t hurt enough. At least whiskey burned when it went down. Pain made for a good distraction. It’d been half the reason she had been a scotch and whiskey woman during grad school. It was easier to focus on the trail of fire it left behind in her throat than the ills she was facing.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw someone approach. She paid them no mind. She signalled M’gann for more. Even if she couldn’t get drunk off the stuff, she could at least try and use the sweet, cloying taste to distract herself.

“Alex?”

Fuck. M’gann placed another glass in front of Alex, which she promptly threw back. Alex imagined it was the cheap liqueur that she had once had hidden in her lab. It was so cheap, it most likely could have stripped the paint from metal, but the burn it left behind was incredibly.

Alex set the glass down. She glanced at Maggie, who eyed her with considerable trepidation. She huffed.

“Don’t worry, it’s non-alcoholic.” A sardonic smile. “M’gann here knows better than to give me alcohol. Can’t trust a drunk with their drinks, after all.”

Maggie flinched at just how harsh Alex’s tone was. It had been years since Alex had spoken like this. It wasn’t something she enjoyed hearing.

“You’re not a drunk.”

“Not yet, I’m not.” If Alex was being honest with herself, as much as she wanted to drink herself into oblivion, her pride and her love for Maggie and Lucy would ultimately still her hand.

Maggie moved to sit on the empty barstool next to Alex. M’gann went to the other side of the bar, intent on giving the two privacy.

“Kara told me what happened.”

“Of course she did.”

“Alex, you know he didn’t mean it.”

“But he wasn’t wrong, Mags.” The bitter sadness in Alex’s voice broke Maggie’s heart. “I’m not his real mom, I’m just…” Nothing. I’m just dating his real mother.

Maggie reached and took her hand, drawing Alex’s gaze to her. “You’re Dylan’s mother, same as Lucy, same as Kara, same as me,” she said firmly. “Just because the two of you had an argument today, doesn’t mean that it invalidates all the years you’ve been his parent.”

Tears welled up in Alex’s eyes. She angrily wiped them away.

“Ally, you remember what Dylan used to call you when he was smaller?”

“Opie,” Alex mumbled.

“And what did he call me?”

“Emem.” Saying it out loud sounded ridiculous now, but the titles Dylan had granted each of them never failed to bring small smiles to all of their faces.

“Yeah.” Maggie tilted her head. “He’s got names for all of us. We raised him. He’s our son.”

Alex bit her lip.

Maggie sighed. “Lucy thinks we should tell Dylan about…Rick.”

Alex stiffened. It had been ten years since her kidnapping and near-drowning at his hands. It had been 36 hours of anguish for everyone involved. And it had been the worst 36 hours of Alex’s life because Dylan had been with her. Every time he fell silent, she part of her believed him dead until he started crying again.

“No, absolutely not,” she said shortly.

“Alex, he has right to know,” Maggie protested. “Maybe it’ll help.”

“Or it could make things worse! He doesn’t need to know!” He didn’t need to know that Alex had almost died. That she had been trapped in a glass box, fighting tooth and nail to escape, unable to get to him. It had been her greatest failure.

Maggie picked up on Alex’s doubts. “You didn’t fail, Alex.” How many nights had she and Lucy held Alex, refusing to let her blame herself? “You’re alive. Our son is alive. The last ten years are proof enough that you didn’t fail.”

I didn’t get to him.

Maggie tried another angle. “He thinks you hate him,” she said.

Alex’s brow furrowed. “What? No!” She could never hate him.

“Alex, you shut down in front of him and walked away. He’s been trying to text you since you left, we all have, but you haven’t responded.”

For the first time in hours, Alex checked her phone. A sad, empty battery bar flashed up at her. Oops.

“My phone died,” she said, showing it to Maggie.

Maggie squeezed her hand. “Then let’s go home, so you can talk to our son.” Alex looked ready to protest, but Maggie held her hand up. “You don’t have to tell him, Alex, but you two do need to talk.” A beat. “You know you won’t be able to keep what happened to the two of you a secret forever, right?”

Alex got up. She tossed a couple of bills on the bar. “If it means protecting him, I can damn well try.”

My husband and I are dating another woman, but I'm feeling left out

I am new to the poly life and I am trying to get adjusted but it isn’t working. My husband and I are dating his ex-wife, we both love her but I feel as though I am being left out. He calls me to talk to her instead of calling her, when we share a bed I always end up sleeping it the guest bed or on the couch, and I feel as if he doesn’t want or need me anymore because he has her again. I love them both but I don’t know how to talk to them about what I am feeling without hurting them or losing them

What you’ve laid out here is a really good start for knowing how to talk to them. Sit down with your husband and let him know that parts of this arrangement aren’t working for you right now. Tell him specifically that you don’t like when he calls you to get through to her, or when you end up feeling unwelcome in the shared bed. There may be some simple fixes here, like him not treating you as a go-between, you two setting aside date nights or private time for the two of you, and a better way to manage bed-sharing that ensures everyone is included.

Keep in mind that not all “messages received” are “messages sent” - it may not be true that he doesn’t want or need you anymore. He may just be experiencing NRE, or he may think that you prefer sleeping on your own, or he may just not have thought through his behaviors and how they’re impacting you. So make sure not to bring this up in an accusatory way - more informational, just “hey, FYI, this bothers me - can we come up with a way to resolve it?”

remember when kaz brekker told inej ghafa he refused to be the one to mark her body after everything she had been through?? because i sure do. the tattoo was mandatory for everyone in the dregs except her bc self-proclaimed monster kaz brekker had the decency to respect her past trauma & he didnt want her to feel like anyone owned her. and the first thing he did after purchasing her indenture was get her proper clothes?? and a knife??? lbr when will your fave ever

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White Day  ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘)

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I’ve buried my love in the moon dust .