#qoe

in this chapter: lesbian rights!

“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

R.E, desabafo da minha alma

Tagging: @teamhawkeye @foofygoldfish @chloe-gayzer @themysteriouslou @solesurvivorkat @pocketmedics (sorry if yall were double pinged!)

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