#civilorange

[randomthingsthatilike1]

@civilorange happy birthday bitch ilysm!

[lettering-is-my-music]

i require the phrase "nipple mittens"

I REQUIRE EITHER MY IPAD OR CHUCK AU AND THEN YOU SHALL RECEIVE NIPPLE MITTENS

[m0nstera-blog]

“Everything alright, Cat?” Your mother asks, standing up until she can tilt you chin up to find your eyes. There’s such open concern in soft eyes—eyes you remember to be so much bluer, so much colder. “Cat?” She asks again, and you can only think, this isn’t right, even if you can’t put your finger on it. Can’t explain exactly why this is wrong. She doesn’t call me Cat, you think absurdly—which absolutely isn’t true, except it feels right. Tapping your pencil against the paper, you can’t focus—there’s something flickering though your mind. None of this feels right, it’s wrong—something is wrong. Leaning forward, you realize you’ve written something—not on the paper, but right onto the polished wood of the desk. The pencil tip breaking into pieces but not until after you’ve already finished. Only three words, and they don’t mean anything. Until they do—until you trace the lines of the letters with tender eyes and remember orphan aliens, and missing years, and the end of the world. You remember that you’re supposed to be finding her—her, her, some indistinct person without name, but you can remember blue eyes and blonde hair. Pressing your palm flat against the words, they seep into you. Spilling like sugar into your blood, sweetening the beat of your frantic heart. The words wrap your mind in gray silk, and you’re tired—so tired—like the world is just slipping away. Untuck your thumb, and everything goes black. i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#47] snapshot 73

[m0nstera-blog]

Cat had shrugged and gone upstairs like it wasn’t anything at all—like she wasn’t tucking a dress away in disappointment, like she wasn’t putting her records back into the sleeves that had belonged to her father. You couldn’t live with the acceptance of it—as if she’d been expecting this all along. So—you may have lifted the invitations from her mother’s luggage, and you may have asked Mister Callaghan for a ride across town. He’d shaken his head and said he wouldn’t be able to—but his brother’s eldest son? Well, he was just looking for reasons to drive his brand new Lincoln around town and practically jumped at the chance to drive Cat. You’d presented her the tickets, scuffing a shoe. “I know how much it meant to you,” you said quietly, smiling when her eyes went wide and her smile spread. You’d do anything for that smile—anything. Cat had tossed her arms around your neck and squeezed you as tight as her human arms would allow—even with your sharp hearing you could only just make out her thank you, thank you whispered against your neck. You think the most tragic thing about Cat Grant is that she’s always surprised when someone cares. i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#52] snapshot 83

[m0nstera-blog]

“Ieiu,” you say instead, words already quivering with tears that you can’t stop, because you don’t know when they started. She doesn’t move, but she’s suddenly looking at you—and you don’t know how you simply know that. Nothing about her changes, no movement, no shift of person or fabric—but she’s suddenly present. “Rraop nahn otem,” you’re mad at yourself because you can’t remember the feminine version of you, so you resort to using the formal gender neutral one. Rraop—you. Nahn—are. Otem—back. Maybe she is the sun, and you’re just a satellite that’s drifted far too close—because you’re walking into the room, crunching through shattered glass, past ruined shelves and splintering wood—until your arms are wrapped around her middle. i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#48] snapshot 31

[m0nstera-blog]

“Little one,” you breathe out, and clutch her to your chest—carding fingers through the strands of her hair, darker than it was on Fort Rozz—more red-brown than blonde, closer to her mother’s, closer to yours. You imagine it must have been the influence of this yellow sun she speaks of rarely that caused her golden halo. “I have missed you dearly.” Tucking your nose into her hair, you inhale the smell of home—electric, and charged, and sweet. Like spun sugar. Kara laughs—bells and chimes. “It’s only been a day, Aunt Astra,” she reminds, and when she pulls away—you refuse to let her go, because you’ve been hovering over her inert body for eight months, while Non and his scientists try to remove the reactor from Kara’s arm. You’d haunted her room like a wraith, making sure you could do this one thing for her—keep her safe while she dreams. No one dies in the Phantom Zone—the Black Mercy could have her for eternity, and would never drain her. So you’d watch over her until the end of days—or until Non figured out how to open the rift. You smile, and play along, “It feels so much longer.” Years, and decades, and eternities. Smoothing your hands down the smooth white of her dress, perfectly tailored for the eldest heir of the great house of El. She’s gorgeous, with Rao’s light skipping through her darker hair, catching the blue of her eyes—she looks happy, and you have to ruin that. Because none of this is real. “Kara, do you trust me?” i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#45] snapshot 36

[m0nstera-blog]

Frowning, Alex bats your hand away again, “You talked to her—as me.” “Well, we got along swimmingly, and I have wonderful taste in women.” “You dated an alien.” Grinning, “See? High standards, there’s only a few of those about.” You eventually take matters into your own hands and grab her chin, turning it this way and that, and you will admit there’s a kind of power that courses through you when she gives up and her arms fall limply to her lap. It’s the small things really. “Did you ask her if she eats peas one at a time?” Clicking your tongue, while lining her eye, “Didn’t come up. Though she does believe in holistic medicine and has some very interesting opinions on astrology that you might enjoy. Aren’t you an astrologist?” You know damn well she isn’t. Alex begins to frown, but you tap her lip and she tucks her brow instead, “I’m an astrophysicist.” Grinning, “Oops.” Finishing a layer of gloss, you tell her to blot and pucker and scrutinizing your work, you’re pleased with the result. “Just remember, when she’s blathering on about the sun dancing with mercury, or whatever—she’s bendy, very bendy.” How do you not have more friends? You’re such a good friend. i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#44] snapshot 21

[m0nstera-blog]

“You’ll die, Kara.” “I know,” she says, with the tip lipped expression of a martyr. It fits perfectly to the slopes of her face, the line of her brow—and you don’t want it to. “Don’t do it.” “I have to, Alex. I can’t let another planet die—I just can’t.” - “Come on out, Cal, I don’t have time for this—haven’t you heard? It’s the end of the world outside.” A vicious monster crashing through the heart of National City; people fleeing scared, the military lining the border of town. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” - “I promised to protect you—but I also have to protect your home.” She makes those slips sometimes—saying your instead of our. Like earth wasn’t her home—and you never mentioned it, never thought much about it. How long has she felt like that? How long has she looked to the stars? Searching for a dead planet, thinking home. “Your home—too.” “Only for a little while longer,” her lips are hot against your forehead, and you feel her slipping a necklace over your head—it’s the one you know her mother had given her. When she’d been a child, sent away from a dying planet. - “The hero is supposed to have something—I don’t know—inspiring to say.” “Who says you’re the hero?” You ask with a smile—because you have to smile, anything else will shatter your resolve to let her go—will crush the stubborn determination keeping your fingers from curling into her collar. “Go be the hero, Kara.” You murmur, tracing a thumb across her cheek, through the track of tears dripping off her jaw, you plunge your fingers into her hair, and tug her in for one last kiss. “Chop chop, supergirl,” God, you voice cracks, and you simper against her lips. “We’ve got a schedule to keep.” - i will make you queen of everything you see by @civilorange : chronological order [#36] snapshot 18