She is so strong of heart. For so much of her life, she has known pain and disappointment, but she does not let that anguish break her or destroy her hope.
In fact, the flame of hope in her soul only burns brighter. She holds on to her optimism and positive outlook on life. To do that – after going through so much for so long – shows an incredible willpower. She does not let the pain of her life overtake her, but carries herself forward and in the process becomes an inspiration to those around her.
She is determined.
She risks everything for the people she loves.
She has faith in her sister, recognizing the pain that her sister went through and how it was not unlike her own – and Anna refuses to abandon Elsa to the darkness of despair. Anna does not judge her sister, but extends an open hand to her.
Anna is her own salvation, the salvation of her sister, and the salvation of Arendelle.
“Hi, I know you’re not taking prompts, so feel free to ignore me.. I usually am anyway. The thing is I struggle with depression and my home life pertains with an abusive family and bullying at school, coupled with not so good friends…. anyway, I was wondering if alex or kara could deal with like depression or just flashes backs and lena or maggie, helps them deal with it.. and it’s Okay if you just ignore. Sorry to bother you” from SanversAndSuperCorp
Kara hates it.
Watching Alex suffer. She hates it. Being Eliza’s darling child.
She misses Jeremiah, too, but not like Alex does.
She misses Jeremiah, too, but she’s not the one that Eliza expects to somehow both replace him and live up to his memory.
All of that pressure, Eliza puts squarely on Alex’s shoulders.
And Kara can’t help feeling like it’s her fault.
So she trudges through class – advanced junior-level math, even though she’s still only a freshman – trying to fight down tears, trying to fight down the overwhelming depression.
She was the only one who survived her planet. And now she’s the reason that the only person who makes her feel at home on this planet – Alex, her big sister, her world, her salvation, her everything – is suffering.
Now she’s the reason that Alex had spent last night screaming at Eliza, raging and crying and grabbing her surf board and not caring that it was too dark to surf safely.
Kara had watched her from their rooftop, to make sure she was safe. To make sure she didn’t hurt herself. Even if that was, maybe, something she wanted.
Kara sniffles to herself with the effort of holding everything in, with the effort of listening for Alex’s heartbeat – her big sister is in her English class right now – amidst the overwhelming array of sounds that assault her daily at school.
“Need a tissue?” a boy who’s never said two words to her offers in a whisper. She nods gratefully, starting to smile.
“Go to the bathroom and get one, then,” he whispers again in a voice that carries intentionally, carries enough to get all the kids surrounding them to laugh at Kara’s now burning face.
All the kids, that is, except Lena Luthor.
Lena Luthor who turns around from her seat in front of Kara with fire in her eyes and murder in her posture. Lena Luthor who also is too young to be in this class, but too smart to be anywhere else.
Lena Luthor, who passes Kara a tissue from her own bag and raises her hand in one smooth motion.
“Ms. Hernandez, Jacob is violating our class contract against bullies,” she tells her, a smug look on her face as Jacob is promptly sent to the guidance counselor and Ms. Hernandez asks before touching Kara’s shoulder supportively the next time she circulates the room to look at their work.
“You’re doing a wonderful job adjusting to somewhere new, Kara. And it seems you have a good friend in Lena.”
Kara beams as Lena turns around to meet her gaze shyly. “I do, yeah. I really do.”
She wonders why her face burns so hard, with so much pleasure, when Lena’s shining eyes meet hers, when Lena reaches a hand back to offer more support to Kara, and she makes a note to ask Alex about it later.
Alex, who’s having problems of her own, across the hall and one flight down, in her English class. Her fight with Eliza had gotten so intense last night – so painful, so visceral, so agonizing, left her feeling so small, so unimportant, so insignificant – that she hadn’t been able to focus enough, to dry her stinging eyes enough, to do her homework for the day.
And Alex Danvers always did her homework.
“I expect more from you, Ms. Danvers. Is everything alright?” Mr. Pepitone asks, and Alex scowls at him, at the condescension in his question, at the implication that whatever it is that’s wrong, his English homework should take priority.
“Alex was helping me last night, sir,” Maggie speaks up, and Alex – as well as half the class – starts at the sound of her voice. Maggie rarely says anything in class anymore, since her parents… since her parents.
“My truck broke down on my way home from work, and she came out to help me fix it.”
“Those engineering skills paying off, Ms. Danvers, is that right?” Mr. Pepitone grins slightly before nodding and moving on, and Alex nods.
Alex nods, even though she knows full well that Maggie’s truck might have broken on her way home from the after school program for little kids last night, but that Maggie wouldn’t have needed any help fixing it.
“Thank you,” Alex mouths, and Maggie winks.
“What’re friends for, Danvers?” Alex doesn’t say anything about how she’d like to be more than friends with Maggie, about how she’d love to drown in Maggie’s eyes, how she’d…
But then Maggie is slipping a piece of ripped paper onto her desk, and Alex nearly swoons at the beautiful swirls of Maggie’s deliberate handwriting.
“You look beautiful, like always, Danvers, but you also look like you’ve been crying. Can I help?”
Alex looks up at her, wondering whether the burning in her face shows. Maggie’s head is tilted and her eyes are soft, and Alex is gone.
Her hand shakes as she scribbles back.
“My mom was at it again. Apparently I’m not doing enough to protect Kara. Again. I just feel like…” She looks up from writing and stares idly at their teacher as he drones on about Shakespeare. “… I’ll never be able to please her, you know? I mean, I know you know. Sorry. I’m just so miserable. Whatever.”
She waits until Mr. Pepitone turns to write something on the board before she passes the note back.
She watches as Maggie reads it, stops breathing as Maggie reaches for her hand underneath their desks.
“I know the feeling, Alex. And I’m so sorry your mom can’t see how incredible you are. But you know who you’ll always be able to please? Me. Wait, that came out sexual. I mean… you know what I mean. You deserve to be cared for, Danvers. Can I care for you?”
Heat pools between her legs and she gulps and she blushes and she squeezes Maggie’s hand under their desks as she reads her response. She doesn’t bother writing a response. She just catches Maggie’s eye and nods and smiles for the first time.
Nods and smiles for the first time in hours, because yes. Yes, Maggie can care for her. And she’ll care for Maggie.
Send me a name and a word and I’ll write quick drabble!
For YOU, Zukaang
Zuko never seemed to sleep. This, Aang had begun to get used to.
It was nothing out of the ordinary for Aang to wake up, as he did that night, and find that he was alone. He was often the one who fell asleep besides someone and woke up alone.
This night, he squinted through the sleep and found Zuko on the other end of the room, leaning against the window frame and washed in the moonlight. No, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Zuko to crawl out of bed, but even this late into the night, Aang thought everyone should at least be trying to sleep.
He gave a low, sleepy groan, and when that went unanswered, Aang muttered into the pillow, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Zuko answered shortly. “Go back to sleep.”
Well that was a lie. Aang frowned away the sleep and pushed himself upright. It was a bit annoying, really. To be lied to after just waking up. And this after a not so pleasant going to sleep process just hours before.
“Really, though,” Aang said, “what’s going on?”
Zuko sighed (a little dramatically) and was quite for a moment, before answering, “Do you ever think she’s just out there? Or wonder where she might be?”
Aang frowned. “Who?”
“Oh. Azula. Right.” Ans then it all made sense. Zuko’s lack of sleep and his brooding demeanor. The earlier events of the night; how Zuko had turned rigid below him when Zuko’s fingers brushed over Aang’s scar on his back, or how he had rolled over just as Aang’s mouth scraped down his chest–over his own scar.
“I guess, yeah.” Aang tried to brush out the rest of the sleep out of his eyes. “But, she’ll be okay. Shes Azula. And when she wants to come home.. she will.”
“And what if she doesn’t?”
The question hung in the air like the heat of her lightening.
“Look, Zuko, we did everything we could. You tried; you were really kind to her. She’ll realize that, one day. Maybe… maybe this is just something she has to do herself. And when she wants to come back, you’ll be here to help her.”
Zuko turned then, and gave him a small smile. It was convincing, but it was a start.
“I’ve tried everything,” he went on, making his way back to their bed. “I just–I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
Aang didn’t know what to tell him. He had been trying hard, to reconstruct the broken puzzle pieces of his family–speaking with his lunatic father, offering his also lunatic sister a chance at salvation, finding his mother, embracing his step father and half sister–But Aang had never really had a family to rebuild.
“Zuko, these things take time,” Aang tried. “Things don’t just smooth themselves out in one night. Things need time to… to heal.”
Zuko pushed out his lips. “Right. Like a scar.” He touched at his eye. He did this, Aang noticed, when he felt vulnerable, or low. Aang didn’t think he noticed when he did it.
“Right,” Aang said. “And Iroh says time can heal all scars. Azula will come around. Iroh’s usually right.”
Another smile, this one closer to something more true. “Uncle’s always right.”
“Then, see? It’ll all be okay.” Zuko’s smile threatened to lift, so Aang added, “And I think you’re doing everything right, too. For what it counts.”
A smile. Zuko’s hand fell from his eye and landed lightly on the side of Aang’s neck. “It counts for a lot,” he said before he leaned in for a kiss.
Aang asked if he wanted to go back to bed. Zuko said he’d try. He gave Aang another small smile before turning his back, his head pressed in his pillow. Aang could feel the tightness in his chest though, pushed back against Aang’s arms. The heavy, weighted question pulsing through Zuko and shoving at Aang. A question neither of them allowed to voice, but one that hung heavy like a heat over them.
What if Iroh isn’t always right.
After all, sometimes, some scars never heal. Not really.
All right! Lots of interesting stuff in Mama on the second go around. Let’s get to it:
Here’s how Sleepy Hollow Season 2 could have been fixed in two easy steps. 1. Keep the 30 second scene of Lori in Purgatory in the premiere (seriously, I timed it, 30 seconds). 2. Make “Mama” episode 3 or 4. The gang is back together, they have the MacGuffin they need, Jenny’s a part of the group, and Frank is freed but spent enough time in the psych ward to leave a mark. TA-DA! The rest of the season has cohesion and momentum and drive. You’re welcome, writers. I accept payment in dollars, diamonds, or back rubs from Tom Mison.
I love that when Crane is struggling with the modern world (like the medicine bottle, or even earlier with the plastic on the razor), Abbie doesn’t take it from him. Doesn’t do it for him. She lets him figure it out on his own. Abbie is the best. That will be a running theme today.