#honorborn

𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫, double board certified neonatal surgeon sub-specializing in fetal surgery and a medical geneticist   ?   who wouldn’t know of addison montgomery. she was a legend, and his pediatric specialization simply served to magnify his captivation all the more. but, her knowing of him   ?   was a different story altogether. he’d be unbelievably fortuitous if she’d as little as heard of his name around the medical community. the sole potential reason would be due to working alongside all of her former colleagues and peers. he’d grown rather   fond   of derek shepherd, they’d become close friends, actually, and that was her ex-husband. oh rao, don’t commence with that preface, kent. not unless you merely long to make piss poor first impressions.

in fact, today marked the first day in months since he’d stepped foot inside the hospital. images of the plane crash still incinerated behind his retinas following the breaking news   !   segment blaring from his television set. he hadn’t heard from the hospital in days due to superhero engagements detaining him, and in doing so, in outright   neglecting   the career that he’d essentially signed his life to, his friends were caught in catastrophe’s crossfire and he wasn’t there to save them.   superman   was nowhere to be found. 

but, today, two months later, a baby girl was struck by a motorcycle gone awry from the driver’s control, her little body catapulting from her stroller and into the air, limbs facing directions they shouldn’t. thus, he’d caught her midair, assured her family that he’d get her to seattle grace on time, and he had   ⎯⎯⎯   her tiny fists clinging to flannel button down whilst her eyes struggled to stay open.    ❛    i did,    ❜    he replies, allowing the soft smile to creep upon his lips behind the rim of his glass.    ❛    i hadn’t been into work in a while, but, i guess this was my turning point   ….   dr. montgomery, right   ?    i’m clark kent, pediatric surgeon.    ❜

     mark sloan marks the body of an eulogy : his limpness marring itself, searing itself within her mind’s eye. she felt his hands, still & lifeless -- she watched for hours on hours until... he was no more. she promised only two days, but to see derek shepherd the way he was it harkened back to a time of heart break -- two days turned to two weeks and now... it’s been two months. as if she stepped through a portal, her body sent back through time except she is the only one who is stagnant through all of this. meredith grey is an attending. alex karev is a fellow. george o’malley is dead & izzie stevens is gone. 

     surreal, is the word to describe her existence. as if the duality of her mind -- to justify living in both seattle and los angeles, as if suddenly all those people she learned to call her family is only a memory of her past. with her son in the daycare, there is only one memory that ties her to los angeles : like the city of angels, all that reflect within her cerulean eyes is the sight of opulence, of nostalgic memories living in a practice. perhaps webber is correct. perhaps, she is meant to cut & nothing else. 

     i’m clark kent. pediatric surgeon. the proclamation of his existence evokes her from the trance she found herself under. memories of the past linger distantly, distinctly within -- but addison montgomery is a runner. california reminds her of sunshine, of beaches, of men she shouldn’t’ve kissed -- of sins she had committed & her mother who thought of her less than how a mother should think of a daughter. there is acknowledgement to his statement : a nod, a loft of her brow.  

❝ AND WHEN YOU KISS ME, I’m happy enough to die. ❞

❝  Clark---?  What are you doing  ?  ❞

WHICH MUS S E E

tbh more leaning into my horror side, this creepy vampire oc i have because i made him for a vampire the masquerade campaign that was very short-lived and now i’m using him as an NPC in a campaign i’m running and wow i’m feeling his creepy vibes...

                    he'd been outnumbered and ambushed, and he had just enough juice left in his ring to propel him back to clark's apartment. hal tumbled through the wall with a pained groan, the world swimming around him as he landed on all fours, elbows supporting his weight just as the ring reminded him that it was out of juice. and in the same breath that his uniform dissipated, he felt the last vestiges of energy slip from his fingers. his head pounded with agony -- there was no part of his face that didn't ache, from the head wound that trickled blood into his eye to the cut lip that quivered mercilessly, hal could only muster enough energy to prop himself up against the wall. his breathing laboured, he murmured the first name -- the first thought -- that came to his mind, knowing that the kryptonian in the next room could hear him. "kal...."