#and once when he stabbed a girl. who was his adopted daughters sister

[dannybobany]

Really old oc of mine I decided to draw (because he kinda looks like Basil omori)

He’s so old in fact I was never a good enough artist to draw him how I wanted when I still used him so. Here’s a gift for my younger self :}

[misscoolisback123]

Ships that I like from my favorite animes:

Naruto- Sasuhina, Narusaku, Nejisaku, and Shikahina

Bleach- Ichiruki, Byahime, Byaren, Byasoi, and Ishinemu, along with Renjihime and Ulquihime

Attack On Titan- Erehisu and Jeankasa

Ships That I hate from these shows

Naruto- Sasunaru, Sasusaku, and Sasukarin.

Bleach- Byaruki, Renruki, Ichihime, Shunsui x Nanao, and Aizen x Momo

Attack On Titan- Yumikuri, Reikuri, Levi x Petra, Levi x Eren, Eren x Annie, Armin x Annie, King Fritz x Ymir and Eremika.

Weird ships that I like:

Byakuya Kuchiki x reader, Byakuya Kuchiki x Ymir Fritz as an adult, Naruto x Historia Reiss, and many more

Why I don't ship it:

Naruto- Sasunaru because they were basically brothers

Sasusaku because Sakura only liked Sasuke for his appearance and was obsessed with him

Sasukarin because it's the same as Sasusaku but worse

Bleach- Byaruki because Rukia is Byakuya Kuchiki's adopted sister. The same goes for his deceased wife Hisana because she never loved him, and he's over her. So basically, I don't ship Byahisa. People need to understand that she never loved him.

Renruki because they had more of a brother and sister dynamic

Ichihime because it's similar to Sasusaku

Shunsui x Nanao because she's his niece

Aizen x Momo because he stabbed her

Attack On Titan- Yumikuri because Historia was never gay and 104th Ymir only liked her as "Krista" and Historia only saw her as a sister and mother figure, and Historia is most likely bisexual or aromantic

Reikuri because like 104th Ymir he only liked "Krista" and he thought that Historia would be the same he's a simp for her.

Levi x Petra because she wasn't a major character and admiration can mean different things.

Levi x Eren because Levi was an asshole towards him, and he was more like a father figure for him

Eren x Annie for various reasons I can't explain

Armin x Annie because he never showed interest in her up until he inherited the colossal titan. This leads people to believe that Armin inherited the characteristics of Berthold as a result of inheriting the colossal titan because anyone who is a titan shifter, and once they shift into a titan some of their human characteristics stay with their titan form such as eye color, hair color and sometimes facial features. This could probably apply to personality as well.

King Fritz x Ymir Fritz because he enslaved her as a child, cut her tongue out, and used her as a weapon after she was saved from death by the creature in the tree after it gave her the founding titan. He also did awful things to her as she got older, and not once did she crack a smile, and the ending of her being in love with the king was an ass pull, and it contradicts chapter 122

Last but not least is Eremika because they were adopted siblings, and Grisha has acknowledged her as his own daughter. When the show was still being produced by "WIT," a majority of the scenes with Eremika were actually supposed to be Eren and Armin and their friendship. It's like Sasusaku in a way, but at least Sakura doesn't go around acting like a creeper when Sasuke is talking to another girl or woman, especially if said girl is a child and said woman is an elderly woman who is in a wheelchair.

There you have it! If you want to discuss these ships with me, feel free to message me unless it's around 8:00 pm. Sorry if I came across as a homophobe for some of the ships.

[abbatoirablaze]

Heaven's Demons, Chapter 40

Word Count:  1.3k

Warnings:  mentions of violence, aggression, being stabbed, character death.

1 Year Later

Sweetie smiled, her boys celebrating their birthday while she held her two-month-old daughter.  The twins blew out their candles with the help of Jake and Steve, and the rest of the charter members and non-MC friends began clapping and cheering for the little boys who looked more and more like their father with every passing day.

Her heart fluttered in happiness, seeing everyone there.  Lee and Lauren had showed up with their son and Amelia.  She was newly pregnant and had a very large ring on her finger.  After Andy was put away, Lee fought to have custody of Amelia to make sure that she was with family, and ever since then they couldn’t be happier.

Ari had started dating Bucky’s little sister, Rebecca, one of Lauren’s teacher friends, while working down at the VA, helping other veterans find a creative outlet once they were out of the military.  While he wasn’t part of the MC anymore, he still talked with a lot of the guys, and had begun working towards a counseling degree and assisting with programs to help more veterans like himself.

Even Bucky had shown up, with year-long sober Charles on his arm.  While they had a hard time getting Charles away from Nigel, Bucky managed to provide a safe space for him to detox under the protection of the Junkyard Dogs, and by the end of it, the two men had found themselves falling in love with one another.  Bucky had someone to care for, and Charles found himself caring for the heavily neglected biker in such a way that Bucky flourished under his gaze.  The two of them had even talked about adopting a child together, and Bucky had finally moved out of the clubhouse and into an actual house with Charles. 

And while Steve, Jake, and Sweetie were happy with their little arrangement, Steve had decided that they needed to find a bigger house for their growing family.  So, while the party was at the clubhouse, Sweetie’s brother, and a few of the other guys had disappeared to move the stuff into a brand new house that Steve had purchased, with the hopes that once he got everyone home, and the kids to bed, that the three adults could begin christening it, and working on baby number four.  Because while he loved his boys, and Jake’s little addition, he found himself craving the idea of more kids around. 

He was becoming softer ever since their little arrangement started, and Jake and Sweetie had not only made a place in his heart, but they made Steve a calmer, better man who strived to make the MC more above-board. 

But the rest of the old charter was there.  Or most of them were, at least.  Lucas had managed to find love in a sweet butt and they were taking it slow.  He still held a lot of anger over losing Pixie, and when Steve had told him that he and Jake would be playing the role of the twins father now that he’d finally settled down, but Lee was a man of habit, and knew that he had nothing outside of the club. 

Alice and Jefferson had gotten back together after Johnny’s patch party, and Jefferson had become more protective than ever now that she was about to burst with their first child; a little girl.  Meanwhile, Johnny and Hellcat had a little boy, a few months before Sweetie, Jake, and Steve’s little girl was born. 

The only person who seemed to be missing from their little group was Sam, who unfortunately was unable to cope with the loss of his little librarian.  Steve did, however, give him a way out, and Sam ended up back in town with Ari, helping veterans at the VA.  He was still working through his own issues, but had been getting better, even through the refusal of coming to the twin’s party.

“Alright, what did you wish for?” Jake asked, playfully teasing the boys.

“Daddy that’s not how it works,” Dylan giggled, looking at him.  Then he looked at Steve, “dad, tell daddy that’s not how it works.”

“He’s right,” Steve smiled, winking at his boyfriend, “they tell you and it won’t come true.”

“I wished that the bad man was gone…that he stayed gone,” Mikey said quickly to his Steve, making his voice low enough that no one else could hear him, “that we were safe.”

Steve gave his son a soft look and patted his hair.  A few weeks ago, they caught sight of Andy on the news, and had been having nightmares as they overheard a trial was going to be happening, and they were worried that Andy would escape and come after their family.  But Steve sighed as he looked at the worried face of his son, a plan in motion so that his sons would never have to worry about Andy Barber ever again., “I promise buddy…we’re all safe…now you and your brother have some cake, okay?”

“And in breaking news, Thor Odinson, wanted for the murder of his brother has been located yesterday in the state of Nebraska,” the news anchor said.  Across the room, Andy looked up from his table to see a picture of Thor, and then a video of him being apprehended and loaded into a cruiser, “he’s been wanted in connection to the murder of his brother nearly a year ago, an up-and-coming politician who was looking to rebuild the city.”

“You’re in my spot.”

Andy looked behind himself to see a large man.  He was roughly the same size as him, but the guy looked worse for wear.  Andy narrowed his eyes, “Fuck off.”

The guy’s jaw tensed, but he said nothing as Andy turned back around. 

“Should really pay attention there, Barber.”

Andy’s eyes shot up to see someone all too familiar staring back at him.  His brow furrowed, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“They transferred me back home once they got me,” Thor grumbled, sitting down at the table.  Andy frowned, noting that Thor’s trademarked long hair had been snipped to a buzzcut, “gotta try me in the state that Loki met his end in…”

“But how are you here?”

“Funny story about that,” he chuckled.  Andy gasped as he felt a sharp prick in his back, right along his spine.  Then two more in quick succession leading up to his neck, before the final one settled right at the juncture of his neck and shoulders.  His hand reached up and he felt for the shiv, “Cap made me an offer, Barber…and after I learned about what you did to the others…bout what you set up…the rest of that shit didn’t matter…so I let them catch me…just so I could deliver a message to you…personally!”

The guard’s whistle blew, and they called for everyone to get down.  Andy fell backwards off his seat; his back hitting the cold concrete.  Thor raised his head ever so slightly as the blood pooled around his former president. 

“Every man bleeds, Barber.  We don’t kill women and we don’t kill children.  You destroyed our own as a means to control them…and that ain’t what the Heaven’s Demons are about!” Thor said firmly, “wish I could say I’m sorry brother…but I’m not.  It’s just a matter of survival.”

And as the light faded from Andy’s eyes and his body started to feel cold, he looked at the man who was still standing behind him.  The man claiming that Andy was in his seat.  And he caught the Heaven’s Demon’s mark along his forearm.  Rumlow’s face look like it’d been blown to hell and sewn back together. 

He almost didn’t recognize the member, but he didn’t need to.  He knew that it was a final message from Cap, telling him that he was done.

That it was game over for him and that he was never going to get out alive.

Tag list:  @lohnes16, @elbell20-blog, @stockholmdolly, @terrormonster55, @dontbescaredtosingalong, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[kaijurakunsobs]

Seeds

remember guys! you can ask me to tag them on future updates

Summary: The idea of a soulmate is well known, they will come to you one day, either as a lover or a friend. A single bond made of invisible thread is what will let you feel their emotions, joys and worries, to experience their pain and for them to feel yours.

But beware, for not all blessed unions are meant to be, if you were to hate and push them away, a slow death shall consume them and a garden will bloom within their chest, the flowers will fight and push to feel the sun from the outside, a poetic dead of a broken lover. A beautiful dead for your hollow existence.

You know that your mother was never a good person, or so you have been told.

Miranda meet her when she came from the city to the village, four months pregnant and with the false story of being “sick”, her sickness? She decided to cheat on her rich husband and she wanted to have you away from prying eyes and possibly abandon you here. Your birth giver was upfront about how "Having a bastard could ruin my lifestyle!", Mother Miranda smiled sweetly and had Alcina give your mother refugee and help during the birth, the Lady agreed and housed the woman.

On the night of your birth, Alcina held you in her arms, begging Miranda to let her keep you, but she denied. You were hers and hers alone.

As for your mother? Only Miranda knows what happened to her, but you suspect, that her body is buried somewhere in the forest, alone and forgotten, you couldn’t care any less.

Miranda was the one to raise you, to love you, the one who would be there when you were sick, to kiss your tears away when nightmares woke you up. She was the one to break your body apart and scream in our face how much of a failure you were, just like Alcina or Donna or those pesky lycans running amok outside, but within your failure, she saw minimal success, you were quick to learn how to care for her experiments, which were the signs of cadou rejection and how to treat it, at least, you could be useful until she placed you in the mansion the villagers were building for you.

You have seen so many people been brought to the lab, so many lives being taken for a selfish reason, that you grew numb, there was no anger or pain, you felt no grief when the test subjects saw you and begged for help, you did nothing for there was nothing inside you.

You are surprised when Miranda begins to show interest in a kid, you know he was brought here years ago and somehow had managed to survive the horrors your mother put him through. Interest grew into an obsession and then into pride, hope, you will forever remember how hard Miranda screamed when her golden child came out a failure too, cursing at the skies and asking why? He had been so close to being her perfect little boy and he turned out to be yet another fuck up.

But she doesn’t throw him away, her favoritism shows when she moved him from the medical area into a room in her private chambers, never allowing you to go close to him, slapping you and kicking up a storm whenever she saw you too close to his door, even if you were passing by. But you never resent him, you can’t hate him or her, all you can do is nod and go away.

But curiosity is something hard to get rid of, and so you waited for days almost a month until Mother left to meet up with Alcina, using the moment to sneak into his room. A beautiful room, compared to yours, he had a big bed with a canopy, the thick curtains prevent you from seeing him, it feels like a fairy tale when you part the curtain to peer inside.

Truly like a fairy tale...a beautiful boy lays there, his golden hair is going gray, probably out of stress. He has a couple of scars on his face and some new ones on his arms. You feel like reaching inside and kiss him to break the spell, but it feels...wrong, like if you could tarnish him even further by touching him, like if your mother would appear and toss you aside for laying one of your dirty hands on his skin. No matter how bad you wish to be his Knight and save him, the terror you feel over defying Mother Miranda’s orders makes you stay still.

And then, it happened.

It began as an agonizing stab in your chest, it made you trip backwards painfully slamming your head against the wall, gasping for air when the pain as a needle began to pierce through you slowly making its way to your heart, a pitiful sob left your mouth, rendering you useless while your body overcomes the initial discomfort. It takes all of your willpower to get straight and look up at the ceiling through your tears, the light it's blinding and it leaves you dizzy, almost ready to empty your stomach.

Karl Heisenberg, age eleven, lays on his luxurious-looking bed, his entire body shakes painfully, breaking through his mouth, and the fever that's racking his body is the only thing keeping him from noticing that, his soulmate is standing a couple of steps away from his bed.

But how do you even know this?

Because Miranda told you about the concept of someone blindingly loving you for all eternity, who would be your other half and the missing piece to your broken existence, Dimitrescu once said that those stories were silly little fantasies, that love should be won over and one should prove to be the right person for someone else and not just have it “hand it over”.

You used to dream of the day you would feel the connection between yourself and another person, of being able to experience their joy when their eyes fell on you. But this is far from what you wanted, what you always wished for! All you can feel is pain, radiating from so many places in your body, rendering you useless, overwhelmed with anger, grief, sorrow for “yourself”.

Everything quickly piles up, so consumed by what Karl is feeling that you don’t hear the tray that falls and the porcelain plates that shatter, you vaguely register the sting of Miranda slapping you and the distant sound of her screams.

She drags you out of the room and into the cold world outside her home, across the heartless forest and you wonder...if you might end up like your mother, buried under some tree to be forgotten. But Miranda keeps walking until she throws you at the feet of Lady Dimitrescu, speaking to the tall woman and leaving you under her care, forever.

When you were younger, you used to fear the Lady. She was imposing and so strong, a self-made matriarch, but she's so careful when helping you up and guiding you through her beautiful home, her hands are so kind when she helps you to undress and sit in the tub filled with warm water, racking her fingers through your messy hair...so this is what a mother truly is like?

She only leaves you alone when she goes to fetch anything you could wear, looking displeased when she hands you a maid's uniform "We must send for the seamstress, I cannot have you wearing those shabby clothes" that, for some reason gets you to smile.

Later, her movements are soft as she runs a brush through your hair, the fire makes the wood crack and explode, filling the room with a nice warmth, something you never lacked off but that never truly permeated your body.

"Y/N, care to explain why mother Miranda was so angry, earlier?" you hear the concern in her voice, a bit of worry hidden in a stern tone.

Alcina can see you shrink a bit, as if ashamed of what you had done “I saw the kid mother keeps in her chambers” it comes out like a whisper, scared of Miranda appearing at that moment to slap you again “I think he’s my soul mate, Alcina!”

Lady Dimitrescu chuckles lightly and smiles when you turn around to look at her ”Your soul mate, some dirty man-thing? Oh my sweet girl I hope it isn’t real and you were just revolted by the sight of a man!”

“But I felt his pain and his emotions...it was scary, but maybe he will love me!”

“Just because you can feel what he feels, doesn’t mean everything will be alright. That’s why those romances are so volatile, darling! There’s no real reason for them to work beyond being stubborn and tell yourself that it will work out” the lady is classy and gracious in her movements as she poured herself another glass of wine “That the other person at the end of your bond will fall to their knees the moment they see you, but in reality, they might resent your sole existence and end up killing you!”

“Killing me?” that comes as a surprise, you have never heard of this.

“Yes...a cruel and unjust dead” Alcina brings you to her lap letting one of her hands spread over your small chest with a sorrowful look on her face “Your lungs will get infested with flowers, a bouquet of throe will bloom within your body, each day the garden will grow and fight to see the sun beyond your mouth and it will rob you of all air and kill you in no time”

She sees you wonder about it, a million questions that you wish to ask, everything falling apart when her curious daughters come into the room, moved by the rumors some maids had shared about their mother adopting another child. All too eager to know their new sister.

After that day, the topic is never brought up.

You grow and learn everything under Alcina’s guidance, the woman is hellbent on making a lady out of you. She teaches you how to read and write, about math and how to sing, applauding when you show her the gift the cadou in your stomach gave you, Midas' touch.

Her daughters and your self-appointed sisters, all laugh and joke around you, treat you like if you were another human when you are no different from their mother, another failed creation, a remainder that Miranda was cursed to not have what she wants. But the love of your little family drowns those thoughts, leaving the happiness of your existence in a nice home and the ever-presence of pain and resentment in the back of your head.

As you grow you notice, each cut and wound that leaves a scar on your skin turns to gold when made by you, but looks as pale lines when made by Heisenberg. You can’t help but laugh when the idea of being a piece of pottery repaired via kintsugi pops in your head, and for a moment you ask yourself if Heisenberg also has golden scars to match yours?

You cry the day when you finally leave the castle, trying hard to convey your love for your mother and sisters with hugs and kisses, in low whispers, promises of coming over as much as you can. The Lady kisses your forehead and sends you off with some final words of advice.

"Never lower your head and always do your best, remember you have us and we would never let you fall"

You are eighteen when you become the miracle worker of the village, crafting medicines with alchemy, signing at the church when the congregation asks you to, turning anything into gold with your touch, smiling with grace, and claiming to have been blessed with a precious gift by Mother Miranda to help the poor and keep the village off absolute agony. In the end, everything tastes like vile and ash, the forced smiles and the sweet tone of your voice make you gang behind the long veil that covers your face.

The days when you sing at the church, are the only ones when you can feel all his hatred directed at you, each painful stab making your eyes tear, yet you keep on making the people happy with hymns crafted before you were even born. If you could let him feel how similar your anger for Miranda is, perhaps the pain in your chest would dissipate, but you can't because you are hollow.

Among the villagers you are Lady Y/N L/N, the golden touch child, you are adored and blindly loved, Miranda smiles radiantly whenever she hears nothing but good words from her cattle, how much they dote on you, ready to serve without a thought, the eagerness to work under you. You may have been a failed vessel but you are a success as a flycatcher, bringing the sheep down to the slaughterhouse to be sent to the other Lords.

On meeting day, the pain and emotions that you feel seem to amplify the closer you are to Heisenberg.

As you sit beside your adoptive mother, your smaller hand in hers, while Mother Miranda speaks and praises each one of her children, lingering a bit too much on her golden child. The pressure in your chest grows, it feels like when you submerge in the tub as if your lungs were being crushed under an invisible force, ready to cough and gasp for air.

Across from you, he sits, posture closed and annoyed beyond belief when Miranda asks him to stay a bit longer after the meeting is done, you feel relief when Lady Dimitrescu gets up, opting to ignore Heisenberg in favor of bringing you back to the castle for your scheduled visit.

You two aren't even halfway through your journey back when you notice you are missing something, a small gift for today's reunion, a bag of fine jasmine tea.

"Mother, I need to get back. It seems I misplaced something, you go ahead!"

There's no time for Alcina to respond before you volt back to the church, the soft lace of your veil beautifully flying behind your hurried steps, slowly dropping your speed the closer you get to the entrance of the building, from it you can see Miranda, she as shed her mask off and is touching Heisenberg's face the way you have seen brides or wives touch their husbands' faces.

A pulse of repugnance and despise make you stumble back, pressing your back against the outer wall, it feels like the first time you met him, it's blinding and leaves you disoriented for a second, a hand flies up to your mouth when a wave of nausea hits you. He's not only pissed, he feels filthy and is suppressing a murderous intent behind a mask of indifference.

The sensation grows and grows until it's crushing you. One look up and you see him standing before you, a hand caging you between him and pillar.

"What are you doing here, freak? The tall bitch sent you to spy on me? tell her to fuck off" this isn't the first time you hear his voice, but it feels like it, even if his words are filled with malice, they taste like bitter wine for you.

"NO!...I mean...no, Lord Heisenberg. I came back because I lost something, a small bag"

"So you are afraid the dog stole from you, are you calling me a thief?" your mouth opens to explain to him once more, but the burly man only growls and steps away "Think whatever you want, I can't care any less for whatever the scum thinks of me"

Later, in the solitude of your home, you will call yourself an idiot, asking yourself why you reached for his empty hand when he turned around ready to leave, why you didn't revealed who you were, why you didn't cried when the man slammed your body against the wall.

"DON'T YOU DARE TO TOUCH ME, BITCH!" Heisenberg's tobacco infused breath hits your face, the painful stab of hatred felt like if your body were being torn apart "I CAN'T STAND PEOPLE LIKE YOU, YOU MAKE SICK!"

This time, when he turns around to leave, you don't reach out, you stay there, gasping for hair and coughing like if you were drowning, a slick sensation in your throat makes you gag and cough harder than before, both of your hands are cupped over your mouth, scared at the idea of throwing up.

Thank God you don't.

The moment passes and your body calms down, but your eyes grow wide when you see what made you gag.

A single yellow carnation petal covered in spit rests between your hands.

-----

Yelow Carnation: rejection and disdain

tag list: @happygalaxymilkshake @mightybeeb @kittyb2000

[shinsengumi-archives]

Was Iwata Kou the girl who got rejected by Okita?

The story about the girl who got rejected by Okita cames from “新選組余話” written by Kojima Masataka, a descendent of Kojima Shikanosuke. It says:

There was an adopted daughter of Kondo. I don’t know her name and age, but she was taking care of cleaning and washing at the Shieikan dojo. At one point, this girl confessed to Okita that she was in love with him and wanted to become his wife, but he told her, “I’m still in training…” Hearing this, she tried to commit suicide by stabbing her own throat with a kaiken dagger, but it did not cause fatal injury. Later, it was said that she married into another family arranged by Kondo Isami.

According to the blog 新選組事典:

Although the name of the woman is not revealed here, it’s clearly stated that she was the adopted daughter of Kondo Isami, but was it true that Kondo Isami had an adopted daughter?

Kojima Shikanosuke's father, Kojima Kakuzaemon's book "聴書", has an anecdote from the 3rd day of the 7th month, Genji 1:

"Kondo has a thirteen-year-old (?) adopted daughter.” (”近藤は養女まで致し候由。十三歳位の趣也”)

It is confirmed that there was an adopted daughter during the Shinsengumi era. And there are other statements that support this. Hatsuko, the granddaughter of Sue, the wife of Shinsengumi spear master Tani Mantaro, talks about her grandmother Sue’s younger sister, Kou.

Iwata Hatsuko stated: "It was decided that she would be adopted by Kondo Isami with along with Shuhei."

Tani Masatake, also known as "Kondo Shuhei", was adopted by Kondo Isami at one point. Since Kondo adopted Shuhei before Ikedaya, it is probable that Iwata Kou, the younger sister of Tani Mantaro’s wife Sue, was adopted by Kondo around this time. Even more surprisingly, Kou's father, Iwata Fumio, is a doctor. Due to this fact, the existence of Iwata Kou suddenly becomes more plausible...

However, Iwata Hatsuko continued: "Kou was Shuhei's fiancee."

When?!

At that time, it was very unlikely that adopted children could get married. If this statement by Iwata Hatsuko is correct, it means that there was a complicated love triangle between Okita Souji, Tani Shuhei, and Iwata Kou.

In Kondo Yugoro's interview: "Kondo once admonished Okita and told him to break up with his daughter." However, for Kondo who wanted to solidify the political foundation of Tani from the prestigious Itakura clan and Higo-no-kami (Matsudaira Katamori), bringing them together with Kou, the daughter of Iwata Fumio, a samurai doctor of Nakayama Dainagon, may be able to fulfill his wish. It could be that Kondo's circumstances led to Okita's rejection of Kou's feelings.

When Shuhei's older brother Sanjuro Tani was killed by someone on April 1, 2nd year of Keio, Shinohara Tainoshin attributed his death to be from a "left thrust". From this testimony, it is speculated that the killer is Saito Hajime, but there’s a theory that Okita was also left-handed, and it can be thought that it’s related to this love triangle, but this is a big leap, so I'll stop here. 　

Shuhei has been in and out of the Iwata family since the Meiji era, but there is no indication that he married Kou. And it is a famous story that Shuhei adoption was later canceled, but I wonder if there was any relationship between this and Kou...

The blog 日本の女性史 says:

Okita doesn't talk about very close female relationships, but there is an anecdote that he fell in love with a doctor's daughter.

She would be the daughter of a doctor in Osaka and her name was Iwata Kou. Kou also became Kondo's adopted daughter in order to marry Tani Shuhei, who was adopted by Kondo Isami. She met Okita there and fell in love, but Okita couldn't respond to Kou's courtship because he respected Kondo’s wishes, so Kou tried to kill herself by piercing her throat with a sword, but managed to stay alive.

She couldn't marry Tani Shuhei because ​​it was such a big incident, so she got married to a merchant by Kondo's arrangement.

One thing I’m confused about is that the story about Okita’s rejection took place at the Shieikan, but the events related to Iwata Kou, who’s commonly believed to be that girl, took place after the Shinsengumi’s formation, so I’m not sure how they fit together. Maybe I misunderstood something.

According to the blog ケペル先生のブログ:

Another lover of Okita was from the Edo Shieikan days. She is Kou, the daughter of Iwata Fumio, who did cleaning and washing for the dojo. She once confessed her feelings to Okita that she wanted to become his wife, but she was rejected with the reason, "I'm still in training." Out of shame, Kou tried to commit suicide by stabbing her throat with her sword, but she was not fatally injured and she survived.

It’s said she was later adopted by Kondo and she married another family. However, Iwata Fumio lived in Minamihorie, Osaka, and Tani Mantaro is married to Sue, the second daughter of Fumio. Kou is the third daughter and it may be in Kyoto that she met Okita.

If everything was true, it would only make sense to me if the girl who was rejected during the Shieikan days and Tani Shuhei’s fiancee Iwata Kou were two different people. Maybe Kondo had two adopted daughters, but the first one didn’t go down on historical records?

Along with doctor’s daughter Iwata Kou, Okita also had a relationship and broke up with another doctor’s daughter who may or may not be the same person, and another one whose name was possibly Ishii Tsune who might have had a child with him.

Did Okita have a thing for doctor’s daughters? 😂

[farrah-fowler]

my friends and i have problems {sleepy bois inc x reader}{dream smp au}

pairings: found family!sbi x fem!reader (she/her) word count: 2.1k warnings: cursing, violence, injury, mention of blood a/n: reader is tommy’s older sister :) there will be a part two :) GIF ISN’T MINE

“just give this up, y/n,” dream huffed as he adjusted his grip on his sword. he smirked behind his mask as he lifted it and got ready to strike. “it’s not worth it. he’s not worth it.”

he knew his words were making her angrier, his smirk deepening as her eyes slanted and her face flashed red. he got the reaction he wanted. y/n lifted herself off the ground, not bothering to wipe the dirt off of her armor. she hoisted her sword up, ready to attack whenever he was. “i’m not going to give up. i’ll get tommy back here or i’ll die trying.” 

dream felt anger rise in his chest as he took a step forward. somehow the mask he donned morphed into an expression that caused an undeniable feeling of fear in y/n’s gut. she tried to swallow her feelings but she couldn’t rid herself of the suffocating fear she felt. dream took another step forward, holding his sword closer to himself. “then i guess you’ll die trying.”

suddenly, his sword, nightmare as he named it, swung through the air. y/n saw the glint of the setting sun reflect off of it before she felt the blade of the sword hit her arm. she grunted in pain as the blade hit the one part of her arm that she neglected to cover with armor. dream laughed maniacally and used the butt of his sword to push against her chest plate, knocking y/n back to the ground. he flipped the sword in his hand and pressed the tip of it to y/n’s throat. “just. give. up.” with each word, he pressed the sword harder into y/n’s neck. she held her breath as she anticipated the trickle of blood down her neck. but it never came. instead, she heard the voices of her adoptive brother and father from down the pathway. dream took a step back as the voices neared before he enderpearled away, leaving y/n alone in the middle of the field. 

“y/n?” ghostbur’s voice piped up as him and philza turned the corner. he smiled brightly at her, basically skipping over to where she sat in the field. “hi y/n! phil and i were just headed over to techno’s house to visit him! oh- oh my, you have jam all over your face and arms. here, have some blue, calm yourself.”

at the mention of jam, phil turned his attention from the spot dream previously stood in to face his adoptive daughter. his expression twisted into one of worry as he saw all of the cuts and bruises that littered her exposed skin from the duel she just had with dream. “y/n…what did you do?”

“can we not do this right now?” she sighed heavily as she took the blue from ghostbur and stuffed it in her pocket. “i don’t need you to go all ‘dadza’ on me right after i almost got stabbed to death by the masked idiot.”

phil shot her a look that said ‘we’ll talk about this later’ and bent down to help her stand up. “fine. let’s just get you to techno’s. i’m sure he has some materials to get you all cleaned up and healed.”

the three of them began their journey towards techno’s house. there was scattered chatter from philza and ghostbur every couple minutes but there was never any remark from y/n. 

“i know what will help you, y/n!” ghostbur exclaimed as they tied up the small boat they used. “seeing tommy!”

y/n stopped dead in her tracks on the sand, turning to look at ghostbur with a confused stare. “what…what do you mean?”

“do you not know?” ghostbur asked.

“know what?”

“oh you’ll love this!�� ghostbur beamed innocently. “tommy is at techno’s house!”

“what?” y/n whispered. she snapped her head towards her father figure and stared blankly. “for how long?”

“only a few days,” phil said. she felt anger boil inside of her at philza’s words. she started walking again, towards techno’s house with purpose in her step, ignoring the pain from her cuts and bruises.

“and you were going to tell me when?” y/n seethed. ghostbur and philza hurried after her, barely falling into step with her hasty movements. 

“soon,” phil said, his voice raising slightly to match her tone. “we were trying to figure out what the situation was with dream and tubbo.”

“and you didn’t think that i should have been involved in that conversation? or were you going to wait until after dream killed me to say something?” y/n bit back. she turned down the path towards techno’s house, the subtle landmarks indicating which way she was supposed to go before her eyes caught sight of the small spruce cabin. she sprinted towards the cabin, ignoring the shooting pain in her legs. y/n banged on techno’s door until he through it open. he looked at the much shorter girl with surprise, his eyes flitting between her and phil and ghostbur standing behind her awkwardly. “where is he?”

“where’s who?” techno coughed. even though he was the infamous technobalde who never died and was notorious for his dueling skills, nothing scared him more than y/n when she was upset. the root of this fear being when she was first introduced to techno, he thought it would be funny to steal her favorite sword from the chest in her room. he ended up with a black eye. ever since then, y/n’s been the one person to strike fear into the heart of the almighty technoblade.

“you know exactly who i’m talking about,” y/n huffed. she glared at techno as he shifted on his heels. techno glanced at phil who just nodded before he let y/n into the house.

“follow me,” he said as he descended the ladder.  “what happened to your face?”

“what happened to yours?” she sneered. 

“ouch,” technoblade mumbled. “tommy! get out here.”

tommy came stumbling out from behind a wall and stopped when he saw y/n. there she stood, his big sister. the only person to stick with him through thick and thin. the only person to actively try to stop dream after tommy was exiled. a big smile spread across his face as he ran towards her. instinctively, she pulled tommy in for a hug. tommy hugged her back briefly before stepping away. “you’re here! you’re really here! i thought dream would’ve exiled you too by now.” 

“he definitely tried to,” y/n muttered, earning confused glances from techno and philza. 

“what happened to your face?” tommy asked once he noticed the cuts from her duel with dream.

“don’t worry about it. it doesn’t matter right now,” y/n said smiling.

“oh so he gets a real answer but i get the response of a two year old. makes sense,” techno said in his signature monotone voice. 

“it’s getting late so why don’t we eat some dinner and then relax for a little bit. like a family,” philza cut in before there could be another childish spat. 

techno maneuvered through the small kitchen, throwing raw beef and pork into their respective furnaces. tommy and ghostbur went outside to put some small additions onto the house tommy was building. 

“so, are you going to tell me what happened to you?” phil asked expectantly. the question caught techno’s attention and he turned to face them while waiting for the steak and pork chops to cook. 

“igothurtwhileduelingwithdreamtogettommybackfromexile,” y/n mumbled quickly under her breath.

“what?”

“i got hurt while dueling with dream to get tommy back from exile,” y/n said louder and slower. 

“what were you thinking? dueling dream alone? not even i’d do that,” techno chastised. very few times would he step into the role of ‘older brother’ and now was one of those times. 

“i was thinking that i needed to get my brother back to his home instead of letting him sit in god knows where all by himself,” y/n all but shouted. “phil, back me up.”

“actually, y/n, i’m siding with techno on this one. it was risky and kind of stupid to go against dream. we don’t know what weapons or resources he has and he could have killed you,” phil scolded. “you know you could have just asked techno or i for help and we could have made a plan.”

“no, i couldn’t have,” y/n said sternly. “this was my battle and i needed to fight it. by myself.”

“why won’t you let us help you?” phil asked, growing frustrated at y/n’s stubbornness. 

y/n took a deep breath and let her resolve melt. “because i don’t want to have to need help or have problems okay?! if i have problems that i can’t solve by myself then that makes me weak. tommy is my brother so it’s my job to get him back to l’manburg.”

“but y/n, we’re all a family. we’re all here for each other and will help each other out. just because we aren’t all biologically related doesn’t make tommy any less my brother than he is yours. just like your as much my sister as you are tommy’s,” ghostbur said, catching y/n, phil, and techno off guard. 

“i..i know that ghostbur,” y/n sighed. “but tommy is my responsibility and i needed to do it alone.”

“tommy is all of our responsibility, y/n,” techno replied as he pulled out the steaks from the furnace. “why do you think i let him stay here? i wouldn’t let just anyone hide here.”

“so what exactly happened?” phil asked, changing the attention back to y/n’s wounds since he could tell she was about to explode and yell at all three of them.

“where’s tommy?” y/n asked, searching the small room. 

“he said he had something for you and he wanted me to distract you,” ghostbur said. he picked up his satchel and took out a little blue bundle. “here have some blue, please calm yourself.”

“thank you ghostbur,” y/n said, flashing him a genuine smile. 

“so, what happened?” phil asked again.

y/n sighed as she put the blue into her satchel, groaning at the pain in her arm from where dream cut her. “i was on my way to go see niki and puffy but i bumped into dream. he kept taunting me about tommy’s exile and saying things about tommy not wanting to see me anymore because i abandoned him.”

“he was just saying that to make you mad, y/n,” phil sighed.

“yeah, i know. and it worked. i don’t know what happened next or who drew their sword first, all i remember is him kicking my ankle and me falling to the ground. then he cut my arm and i thought he was going to kill me but you guys showed up,” y/n explained. “he just kept taunting me. saying things like tommy wasn’t worth all the hassle and that i’d die before i’d get him back to l’manburg.” 

“let me see where he cut you,” phil said. techno was already moving through the house to get one of his healing potions for y/n. y/n took off her chest plate and showed her arm to phil. it was a lot worse than she expected. the blood was starting to cake on her arm and there was a large gash going from just above her elbow to the center of her forearm. “damn, he got you good. techno hand me the potion and a bottle of water.”

techno passed him both of the objects, smiling pitifully at y/n. sensing what was about to happen, ghostbur left the house quickly, muttering something about needing to give tommy some blue. phil unscrewed the glass bottle of water and poured it on y/n’s arm. she hissed as the water came into contact with the nasty injury. 

“holy shit, where’d you get that?” tommy’s voice cut through the room startling y/n. she snapped her head towards where he stood in the doorway. he had worry written all over his face and was staring down at the large gash on y/n’s arm.

“dream,” techno said simply. rage flashed through tommy’s face.

“that asshole did this to you?” tommy asked. he didn’t wait for a response. “when i get my hands on him-”

“tommy,” y/n sighed. “it’s okay don’t worry about it.” 

“it’s not okay, y/n,” tommy said. 

“well what are we going to do about it?” y/n asked.

“well they’re having a festival in l’manburg,” techno cut in. “and we know that dream is for sure going to be there.”

“what’re you saying, techno?” phil asked while handing y/n the healing potion. 

“i’m saying, we do something about this guy and take him out once and for all. we go to the festival and freak havoc. then it’s a win-win.”

“a win-win?” y/n inquired.

“you guys can take down dream,” techno paused. “and i’ll take down l’manburg.”

[jaskierswolf]

The Grass is Greener Pt.3/3

CW: More shitty parents...

Previous

Dinner was an absolute nightmare. The food itself was delicious. They ordered from the lovely little Italian place in town that was one of Jaskier’s favourites for board game night with his housemates. Geralt and Jaskier both ordered pizza, which was the totally normal thing to do when ordering takeaway. His mother ordered sea bass with new potatoes, spinach and mediterranean vegetables.

Ciri was snoring quietly in her pram. Geralt had popped home to get it whilst they were waiting for the food as Ciri threw a bit of a tantrum when they’d tried to get her back into her carry cot.

They were eating on the patio table. Jaskier had insisted. They had spent over two hours trying to clear up the garden and his mother was going to fucking appreciate it, seeing as she’d found every reason to pull apart his house.

The carpet was the wrong colour, the oven was shit, his bedroom was a mess (it wasn’t), the bathroom stank even through the jammy door (it kind of did, thanks Regis), the windows were filthy, there were too many beds…

It went on and on and on.

Geralt, who was supposed to be helping to charm his darling mother, was just glaring at her across the table. Jaskier was trying to joke and make awkward conversation but the tension was just too much. He couldn’t do this. Everything he said was met was snide comments from his mother, who’s current favourite topic was Geralt being a single father, because how could Jaskier ever be good enough to help raise a child. Geralt didn’t once defend himself against his mother’s remarks which Jaskier found infuriating but he was immensely glad that Geralt was there to serve as a buffer. He was struggling to remember how he coped in past years without Geralt’s assistance. How on earth had he managed this battle on his own every year?

Geralt had held his hand throughout the entire dinner, which was both amazing and really awkward when it came to eating. Luckily pizza didn’t require a knife and fork. Occasionally, Geralt would lean in to kiss his cheek or brush Jaskier’s fringe from his eyes. Jaskier hadn’t known what to expect from fake dating Geralt. He’d assumed that he would be the better actor out of the two of them, but his mother was throwing him off and Geralt seemed to have slipped into the role as if he were born to love Jaskier, and didn’t that just make him feel all giddy?

Still he could do without the death glares being shot towards his mother whenever she said… well, anything really.

“Geralt. A word, please.” He said firmly, squeezing Geralt’s hand and standing up.

Geralt grunted and turned to flee into the house. Jaskier sighed. “Mother, can you watch Ciri?”

His mother nodded and stabbed at the poor dead fish on her plate. He nodded back and ran into the house.

“Geralt!” He called after his neighbour.

Geralt was now the one pacing in the living room. “What the fuck is her problem?”

Jaskier frowned. Why was he so angry? It wasn’t as if they were actually dating…

Jaskier shrugged and tapped out a rhythm on his leg with his fingers as he tried to recap an entire lifetime of terrible parenting as quickly as possible. “I’ve always been the problem child, according to my parents. I came out when I was sixteen after years of running around in my sister’s high heels and dresses. Mother and Father didn’t exactly welcome the news and proceeded to ignore it until I left for uni. When I said I was going to study music they all but kicked me out the house. Apparently being bi was tolerable but not having a ‘proper’ career was a step too far. After uni, I sofa-surfed for a few years until Pris suggested we all get a house together, that’s when Regis practically adopted us and… well… here we are. Present day.”

Geralt put a hand on his shoulder and then pulled him into a hug.

Jaskier yelped, surprised by the sudden show of affection. “Geralt?” He mumbled against Geralt’s chest, trying to ignoring the blooming love in his heart.

“You don’t deserve that.” He grumbled. “Any of that.”

Jaskier pulled back and furrowed his brow. “Yeah, and how would you know?”

Geralt… blushed?

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, cupping Geralt’s cheek.

“When you moved in you made me cupcakes.” Geralt mumbled.

Jaskier stared in shock at the man in front of him. He’d forgotten about that. They’d been a complete mess and the icing had leaked all over the bottom of the box, but they’d still been edible and Geralt had insisted that Jaskier stay for a cup of tea to try them.

It had just been Geralt in the house at the time. He’d still been waiting for the paperwork to be finalised to be approved as a potential adoptive parent and the house had seemed so empty. It was the same size as Jaskier’s and Jaskier shared with four other people, well, three others and Valdo Marx. Apparently, Geralt had come into some money following a death of a family friend and he’d been able to afford a family sized home. Jaskier had just seen the hot guy next door and decided to spontaneously make cupcakes in a half-baked attempt, pun intended, to get laid. It hadn’t worked and Jaskier had settled for pining for his hot neighbour instead.

How had he forgotten about that?

“Geralt.” He breathed.

“And when I got the flu you came round with groceries and made soup.” Geralt added.

Jaskier swallowed nervously. “I was worried about you. You hadn’t left the house for days and I don’t think I’d even seen you miss a day of work before. You leave every morning like clockwork.”

“You’re a great person, Jaskier.” Geralt chuckled almost nervously, in a way that was making Jaskier’s heart run far too fast in his chest. “And seeing you with Ciri, Jask, you’re incredible.”

Jaskier scoffed trying to calm the torrent of feelings in his poor bisexual heart. “This fake dating is getting to your head, Geralt.”

Geralt hummed and pulled away from him. “Right.”

“Can you please just try and get along with my mother until I can send her off to the hotel room she inevitably booked so she doesn’t have to stay with us, me, with me.” Jaskier stumbled over his words. “Please?”

“Then we can get the pictures for Yen and I’ll be out of your hair.” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier laughed nervously. Why did that suddenly sound like a death sentence?

God, he was already addicted to Geralt being in his life.

“Right.” He mumbled.

They both sulked back outside to the patio where his mother was cooing at baby Ciri in her pram.

Jaskier turned to face Geralt who had a matching confused expression on his face.

“Geralt, she is just the cutest.” His mother cooed.

“What the…” Jaskier muttered.

“Thank you, Mrs Pankratz.” Geralt said slowly, as if he didn’t trust his words.

His mother bopped the young girl on the nose then turned up to look between Geralt and Jaskier.  “Now then, what’s up with you two? Julian, don’t tell me you’ve managed to ruin your relationship with this young man already!” She snapped.

Jaskier gaped. What the fuck?

This wasn’t his life.

Dear god this wasn’t his life.

Geralt wrapped his arm around Jaskier’s waist pulling Jaskier towards him and placing a kiss on Jaskier’s temple. Jaskier’s heart fluttered in his chest he couldn’t help but lean into Geralt’s embrace.

“Not at all.” Geralt said in his lovely deep voice that made Jaskier’s insides turn to goo.

“Geralt was just worried about me.” Jaskier chimed, the fake smile back on his face. “All sorted now.”

“Worried?” His mother scoffed and then turned to give Ciri a smile that, if Jaskier didn’t know better, would have been described as motherly. “Whatever for?”

Geralt smiled too sweetly. It looked wrong on his face. Jaskier gulped and looked between them. “He’s tried so hard to make you proud, Mrs Pankratz and you have not been kind. As his guest you should be grateful that he’s invited you into his home. Yet everything he does is flawed in your eyes. Makes me wonder, is there something wrong with your eyes? Because your son is… he’s one of the best people that I’ve had the pleasure to meet.”

“Excuse me?!” Jaskier’s mother shrieked and Jaskier decided it would be rather lovely if a big hole would just open up under his feet right.

“And yet, you look at my daughter as if she is an angel.” Geralt growled.

“Oh well. She is rather amazing.” Jaskier mumbled.

“If only you had treated your son with the same respect, maybe we could have gotten along better.” Geralt carried on as if Jaskier hadn’t said a word.

“You have no right!” His mother pointed at Geralt. “No right!”

Geralt shrugged. “Perhaps, but Jaskier was too good to say what needed to be said.”

“Geralt, love.” Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hand, probably too hard. “You promised.”

Geralt closed his eyes and growled. “Jaskier, I can’t just sit here and listen to her bullshit.”

“Why not?” Jaskier pouted. “I’ve done it for years. One day, Geralt, you had to do it for one fucking day. Why couldn’t you?”

“Because I love you!” Geralt snapped.

Jaskier froze and stared at Geralt.

It was an act.

It was all an act.

Except…. what if it wasn’t?

Jaskier lunged forwards and pulled Geralt into a bruising kiss. He needed to, he needed Geralt like he needed the oxygen in the air. He’d been pining after this man for a year and hearing those words, fake or otherwise, it was too much. He felt a prick of tears in his eyes and he sniffed.

“Oh bollocks.” He mumbled against Geralt’s lips. “Fuck, Geralt, you made me cry. You bastard.”

Geralt pulled back to stare intently into Jaskier’s eyes, searching for the answer to some unasked question. “Jask?”

He sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I love you too, Geralt.”

Geralt brushed his thumb across Jaskier’s cheek and laughed. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

Jaskier snorted. “You promised to be nice to my mother.” He countered.

They both ignored the squeak of protest from the woman in question.

Geralt scoffed. “Some promises are worth breaking.”

“Can someone please explain, what is going on here?” His mother snapped, causing the girl in her arms to start screaming again.

Jaskier gave Geralt another chaste kiss and winked before turning to face his mother with his hands on his hips.

“Mother, dearest. Please return Ciri to her father and kindly fuck off.” He sneered.

“You can’t talk to me that way!” She protested as Ciri was pulled from her arms.

Jaskier tilted his head. “Oh ho ho! I think I can. You!” He pointed at her. “Kicked me out, or do you not remember that lovely little detail?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not. Now as wonderful as all this has been. You should know that this house is not just mine, I live here with my friends.” He snorted. “As if I could afford the rent on a house like this on my own, Geralt here, is not my boyfriend—”

“Yet.” Geralt added with a smirk.

“—Yet.” Jaskier agreed and winked at Geralt. “He agreed to help after spending over two hours mowing the lawn because it was so overgrown it resembled a small forest. The only reason he helped was because I have no idea how to actually do basic gardening tasks because I am terrible at anything that isn’t music and writing.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt growled.

“Oh and falling in love with my incredible gorgeous neighbour before he even asked me out on a date. It’s an oddly specific talent but has served me remarkably well, I think.”

“Julian!” His mother gasped.

“Oh and I did babysit Ciri a few times, but get this… I didn’t even ask for money!” He laughed at the shock on her face. “I did it because Geralt asked me to and she’s actually rather cute.”

“I can’t listen to this.” His mother started to head back to the front door.

Jaskier was absolutely fucking delighted! Oh he should have done this years ago! He should never have let the woman back into his life. It had only hurt him, but then again would he have tried to fix the garden without her? Would he have ever worked up the courage to ask Geralt out?

Probably not…

He scoffed.

She would hate that he had only gotten a boyfriend because of her meddling.

“I’m leaving!” She called over her shoulder as she stormed out the front door.

“Thank fuck for that!” Jaskier waved after her and then turned to go back in the house.

He almost ran straight into Geralt who was stood right behind him with Ciri in one arm.

Thirteen years he’d put up with his mother’s torture. More than that if you counted the years before he’d come out. All that time trying to be someone he wasn’t just to please her when he could have just left her and his shitty family behind.

Why had he’d been so scared?

Geralt pulled him into a hug and kissed his hair with a hum.

Jaskier scowled as the thought hit him. “Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

“Did you really mean it?” He asked as he rested his head on Geralt’s chest, listening to his  heartbeat.

“Yeah. Did you?” Geralt pulled back so they could see each other’s faces.

Jaskier laughed and cupped Geralt’s face in his hands. “Oh, dear heart, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Geralt tilted his head and glanced down at Ciri. “And you don’t mind, about Ciri?”

Jaskier giggled.

“Geralt, darling.” He kissed his new boyfriend chastely and then crossed his arms, putting on his best scary Geralt face. “The child must not be an obstacle.”

Geralt shoved him and he fell over laughing, as Geralt stalked back into the living room.

“I regret nothing!” He called after Geralt before scrambling to his feet and chasing after his grumpy, and still insanely hot neighbour/boyfriend. 

________

More witcher fun!

[tsushimanoonryo]

Drabble: Chiyoko pt. 1

The fox was hurt. No. The fox was dying. 

It was a little thing, still only a pup. Something had gotten to it-- perhaps a wild boar by the look of the wound on its side-- and it lay in the grass gasping for breath as it bled out. It was alone, perhaps abandoned for dead by its mother and it made the boy weep to see it.

No, he thought, sniffing as he wiped away his tears. I am samurai. I will not cry over a fox.

But at ten, Hiroto Shimura was not yet a samurai. He was well on his way to becoming one, though. For as long as he could remember, he spent every day with his tutors for hours learning the martial way and the code of bushido. He would spend afternoons with his older brothers as well, sparring and practicing archery under the watchful eye of their father, the jito of Tsushima. And sometimes he would be allowed to travel to Omi village to train with his friend Kazumasa, the son of Lord Sakai, a boy who was younger than he was but already as tough as an ox.

Hiroto strove every day to become strong like they were. As the youngest Shimura boy, he knew he would never inherit the title of jito. But he could become a strong warrior and a great retainer for his eldest brother if he trained his mind and body. He knew from his lessons that a good samurai had control of his emotions so he willed himself to stop crying over the fox.

He had half a mind to leave it in the grass. Nature would deal with it as it always did. It hurt his heart to see the fox pup struggling to breathe, but that was the way of things. As a samurai, he would be expected to face death head-on every day without fear. Leaving the fox to its fate would help strengthen his resolve and grow as a warrior.

Hiroto turned to leave, but stopped as he heard the fox let out a rattling breath. His mind raced back to something his mother had told him once. Foxes were messengers of the kami. Inari had blessed the Shimura family with wealth, rice, and many, many sons (although the kami had yet to give his mother the daughter she so desired). If this fox was one of Inari’s messengers, leaving it to die could have dire consequences for Hiroto’s family. A samurai was also expected to show mercy when it was appropriate. Perhaps this was just such an occasion.

So he turned, scampering back to the fox. It looked pitiful, lying there in the grass struggling to breathe. It didn’t resist as Hiroto gingerly picked it up and cradled it’s frail body in his arms. His nursemaid would be annoyed that he’d gotten his kimono bloody, but he would worry about that later. For now, he needed to get the pup somewhere safe and figure out how to care for it.

………………………………………………….

His brothers had teased him when they saw him trudge back to Castle Shimura holding the dying fox pup. Once his mother realized what he was holding, however, she’d scolded them and athen led Hiroto to the family altar. They lay the fox down before it and said a few prayers to the kami before sending for a healer to help with the animal.

“You did a good thing, Hiroto,” she told him gently. “You never know when Inari is watching.”

The healer did not think the fox was going to make it. It was too young and too weak from blood loss. He did what he could at the behest of Lady Shimura and her young son, but he did not have any confidence that the pup would recover. Yet recover it did.

Despite the odds, the fox grew stronger by the day until it was able to walk on its own. Hiroto took it upon himself to care for it and the pup quickly became attached to him and he to it. But that was dangerous. As supportive as his mother was of caring for the fox, she warned him that eventually he would have to let it go.

“Your pup is a wild animal, my sweet one,” she said. “You will have to let her go back to her home eventually. A castle is no place for a fox and Inari wants their messenger back.”

………………………………………………….

After a month, it was clear the fox pup was fully recovered. Hiroto could avoid the matter no longer and with a great sadness in his heart, he scooped the fox up in his arms and returned to the patch of grass outside of the castle where he’d first found it.

“I wish I could keep you,” he said, setting the fox down. “But hahaue says you are a wild animal and must return to the forest.”

The fox pup sat on her haunches and cocked her head as Hiroto spoke. It was almost as if she could understand him, but he knew that was impossible. Foxes were smart, but they could not understand human language.

“Thank you for letting me care for you,” he said, bowing to the fox, even though he knew it was a bit ridiculous. “Please tell Inari to look favorably on the Shimura family in the future.”

The fox made a chirping noise at him, but did not move to leave. Hiroto stared at it for a moment before reaching out a hand to stroke the fox’s head. She nuzzled into his hand, making a pleased sound before hopping away. She only stopped to look over her shoulder once and then disappeared into the nearby brush.

It seemed too abrupt of a departure. Hiroto had bonded with the fox pup while caring for her and to see her bound away without hesitation broke his heart. She is a wild animal, he reminded himself. Hahaue told you that.

But this broken heart would be a lesson too. People would come and go throughout his life. Some of these departures would be more permanent than others. If he was to be a good samurai, he would have to deal with those losses with a level head and a mastered heart. So he took a second to steel his resolve then turned to make his way back to the castle.

………………………………………………….

There was a large commotion when he arrived. Maids were running back and forth, digging through chests that hadn’t been opened since long before he was born. Some of them, he thought, might not have even been opened since before his parents’ marriage.

“Haku,” he said, pulling on the hem of his nursemaid’s yukata as she rushed back. “What’s happening?”

“Go find your mother,” Haku said impatiently, as she dug through a chest of old kimono. “She can explain. I’m busy right now.”

Had any of the other servants spoken to him like that, Hiroto would have been angry and put his foot down. But Haku had built up a lifetime of goodwill by being otherwise kind to him, so he swallowed his frustrations and wandered off to his mother’s chambers.

He could hear her speaking to someone through the shoji doors before he entered.

“Hahaue?” he called out. “May I come in?”

“Yes, my sweet one,” she answered. “Please do!”

She sounded excited and Hiroto furrowed his brow as he slid the door open.

A young girl was kneeling in front of his mother. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. She looked to be a peasant, all rough and ragged and dirty. But even through all of that, he could tell she was an exceptionally beautiful child. Too beautiful to be the daughter of a peasant. The girl smiled brightly when she saw him, which just made her loveliness all the more apparent.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Hiroto,” his mother answered. “We found her on the grounds of the castle and she won’t speak. Either that or she can’t.”

His mother’s cheekbones flushed pink as she looked at the little girl. There was something twinkling in her eye, although Hiroto could not tell what it was.

“I sent your brothers to ask around the nearby villages and hamlets to see if someone is missing a daughter,” she continued. “Although I fear the poor thing may be an orphan.”

Her tone of voice sounded more excited than pitiable and suddenly Hiroto understood his mother’s excitement. She’d wanted a daughter for years, but was only able to bear sons. It was not uncommon for samurai families to adopt children from the peasantry to raise to the samurai class. And to see a child this lovely toiling in the fields would be a shame; her face was much more suited to nobility.

“I’ve spoken with your father about her already,” she said. “If we can’t find her parents, or if we do and they are willing to part with her, we can keep her here and raise her as our own. We can more than afford another mouth to feed.”

Hiroto thought his mother was speaking more to herself than to him. He would have no say in whatever his parents decided.

“My lady,” a servant said, poking her head into the room. “The bath is ready. And we’ve found your old kimono from when you were a girl. The seamstresses are ready for whatever alterations you want us to make.

“Perfect,” Lady Shimura said. Then she turned to Hiroto. “Will you take our guest down to the baths while I meet with the seamstresses?”

“Yes, hahaue,” Hiroto said with a dutiful bow.

He motioned to the girl to follow him. She only stared up at him smiling and made no move to stand up. So he reached down to grab her hand and lead her to the baths. She was silent the whole way, looking around at everything and smiling. 

“You’re not simple are you?” he asked. She made no reply.

There was an attendant waiting for them at the tub who helped the girl undress. Hiroto averted his eyes bashfully, never having seen an unclothed girl before. But something caught his eye to make him turn to look for her.

“That scar,” he said, pointing rudely. “Where did you get it?”

On the girls’ torso was a large, puckered scar. It looked like a puncture wound. Like someone had stabbed her with a spear. Or like she’d been gored by a boar.

“Young master,” the attendant scolded. “Don’t point like that. This girl may be your sister soon. You must be kind to her.” Properly chastened, Hiroto closed his mouth and dropped his hand to his side. But it was strange. A wound like that should have killed a girl her age. It still looked freshly healed too. It made no sense for her to be as healthy as she was. If she were truly an orphan, she would have had no one but herself to clean and care for the wound.

He furrowed his brow and shot her a look, only to find that the girl was staring right at him. Something gleamed in her eyes, making her look far older than five years old. When the bath attendant turned away, she slowly raised a finger to her lips, beckoning him to be silent. There was something intelligent in the expression and suddenly Hiroto felt bad for asking if she was simple. Then he was shooed away from the bath as the attendants took over cleaning the child.

………………………………………………….

“No one claimed her, hahaue,” his eldest brother said. “No one even seemed to recognize her.”

“The kami have smiled upon you, Ayame,” their father said. “It seems we’ve been blessed with the daughter you’ve always wanted.”

Lady Shimura was so overcome with emotion that she couldn’t speak. She only sat holding the freshly-washed girl in her arms while tears of joy streamed down her face.

The mood was jovial as the Shimura family welcomed the girl into their fold, although Hiroto couldn’t quite let himself relax. There was something strange about the girl and the rest of his family was too blind to see it. The girl was harboring a secret, although it didn’t seem like a dangerous one. But Hiroto was only ten years old and if his parents and older brothers didn’t see anything wrong, then he supposed he would keep his mouth shut. But he couldn’t forget the glint in the girl’s eye down at the baths.

“What should we call her, hahaue?” his second eldest brother asked. “She needs a name.”

Lady Shimura stopped for a second to think.

“You are so lovely, little one” she said, looking down at the girl in her arms. “We should call you Chiyoko.”

“Chiyoko Shimura,” Lord Shimura said. “That’s a good name. Auspicious, even.”

“Chiyoko,” the girl repeated.

Everyone in the room grew silent. It was the first time any of them had heard her speak.

“My name is Chiyoko.”

[ibijau]

A lot can happen in ten years

post canon, warning for major character death

The first year is spent in seclusion, partly because Lan Xichen cannot face the world, not after realising how much of his life has been built upon a lie. Aside from the handful of people present in that temple, on that night, nobody knows how much responsibility he bears in the events that have transpired. If anything, his choice to chase after Jin Guangyao appears to balance out his long complicity in the public’s eye.

The second year, that seclusion is partly lifted. Lan Xichen rarely leaves the Cloud Recesses. There are better people than him to cleanse monsters or supervise juniors on a Night Hunt. As for himself, he is still uncomfortable with the world. Even for conferences, he sends his uncle, his brother at worst. There are many faces he cannot bear to see yet. There is one face he doubts he’ll ever bear to see again.

The third year, there is a party to celebrate Lan Wangji’s adoption of a child, the daughter of cousins who died on a Night Hunt. She’s a sweet little toddler a little younger than one, and the source of Lan Xichen’s first true smiles in years. The party, however, nearly sends him in a panic, especially when he finds himself face to face with Nie Huaisang. But the other man only smiles at him and congratulates him on the addition to their family, before drifting away to chat with someone else.

The fourth year, Lan Sizhui gets married, the cause for another party. Nie Huaisang, once again, has to be invited. Lan Xichen dreads it less this time. Nie Huaisang spends a good part of the celebration joking with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, as if nothing had changed in the twenty years since they first met. Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang exchange a few words, more than they did last time. It’s still easy to mindlessly chat with Nie Huaisang, though Lan Xichen cannot feel fully at peace until his guest has left.

The fifth year, Lan Xichen starts attending conferences in person again. He feels all eyes on him, some judging, other pitying. Most are merely curious as to what he will do now. And what Lan Xichen does is much the same as he’s ever done: listen to others, try to be impartial, consider things carefully before giving his opinion, supporting what he deems right. He refuses to let what happened change him.

The sixth year, Lan Qiren starts mentioning something he hasn’t in a long while: the idea that Lan Xichen should marry, and produce an heir. He used to have many reasons to refuse that obligation, none of them good. A little selfishness he allowed himself. But the main reason he avoided his duty no longer holds him the way it used to do, and so before too long, Lan Xichen gives in. He is married before the year is over, to a lively young woman from Baling Ouyang, sister to one of Lan Sizhui’s close friends. Nie Huaisang is here at the wedding, of course, and congratulates Lan Xichen with such warmth that it feels sincere. 

The seventh year, Lan Xichen’s wife gives him a son, a beautiful baby boy. Lan Xichen, who had given up on happiness, finds himself happy at last.

The eighth year, twin girls join their family. Nie Huaisang, at their hundredth day’s celebration, teases Lan Xichen and asks how many children he’s planning to have. Lan Xichen returns the question, to which Nie Huaisang only laughs and proclaims that sort of a life isn’t for him. Still, he dotes on the baby girls so much that Lan Xichen wonders how much longer his old friend will resist before getting a family of his own.

By the ninth year, Lan Xichen feels once more at peace. It is a feeling he had forgotten.

As the tenth year starts, Lan Xichen’s wife tells him that she is with child again. She leaves with Lan Xi and the twins, heading for Baling to tell her family the good news. Lan Xichen misses them all dearly, but enjoys the chance for a little quiet. It is important to him to live with his wife and children, to give the little ones the family he was denied, but it makes it difficult to find time to work on his cultivation. A sacrifice he gladly does.

Still, it is good to have silence for once. The day after his wife and children have left, Lan Xichen puts some incense to burn and decides to meditate. Before a full shichen has passed, a knock on the door disturbs him. He would ignore it, but it is getting quite late by then, and if anyone looks for him at such a time, it has to be important.

Or shocking more than important, in this case.

When he opens the door, Lan Xichen finds Nie Huaisang smiling at him.

“Er-ge, let’s have a chat,” he asks, pushing his way into the Hanshi, just as he used to do once. “It has been so long since I’ve been here.”

“A decade I think,” Lan Xichen mumbles, confused, while closing the door.

“Already! Ah, and what a decade it has been, right? You’ve made yourself busy, Er-ge, haven’t you?”

Lan Xichen nods, his heart beating harder than it should. Last time Nie Huaisang came to the Hanshi… it was before everything, before Wei Wuxian’s return. It was another life.

“Ten years is an awful long time,” Nie Huaisang says, sitting down, inviting Lan Xichen to do the same, as if he were the host. “But I’m patient, when I want something. And I want something, Er-ge. Can you guess what?”

“Huaisang, we can’t anymore,” Lan Xichen replies, his body tensing to the point of near pain. “I’m married now.”

This earns him an unkind smirk.

“Er-ge, you value yourself too much,” Nie Huaisang sneers. “If I wanted that, I’d have it long ago. I did consider it in fact. It would have been quite funny. But then I heard your uncle was getting in touch with a number of matchmakers. I thought this would be funnier still if you ten years could be so similar to his, before losing it all. A wife, a family, to hide you're a cut-sleeve who fell for the wrong man… Just like San-ge. "

"You're here to kill me," Lan Xichen realises. 

He tries to stand up, but his body is too tense for movement, as if he has been turned to rock, while his heart beats so fast it makes him nearly dizzy. 

"The incense," Nie Huaisang simply says, taking out a dagger from his sleeve. "I'm not stupid enough to challenge you."

Lan Xichen immediately recognises it, though he has only ever seen it once, when Qin Su stabbed herself with it, so many years ago.

"I have children," Lan Xichen begs.

"Which is more than my Da-ge ever got," Nie Huaisang lightly notes, moving to kneel behind Lan Xichen. It could pass for a lover's embrace. "He would have made a wonderful father, I think. He was like a father to me after all, better than the real one." 

With some effort, Nie Huaisang pries open Lan Xichen's right hand and forces him to hold the dagger. 

"Da-ge wouldn't want this," Lan Xichen hisses, the incense's effect making it hard to even talk now. 

"We'll never know what he'd want," Nie Huaisang snaps, guiding Lan Xichen’s stiff arm and hand to his throat. "But you had what you deserved. Ten years of thinking you got away with it, the same as A-Yao did. And then, at last, guilt caught up with you and you couldn't beat it anymore. Because you know San-ge couldn't have done it without you, and I know it too."

Nie Huaisang laughs lightly, sounding almost the same he had as a boy. 

"You'll leave a very touching letter to explain this," he whispers into Lan Xichen's ear. "I've always been good at that. So goodbye, Er-ge. And don't worry… I'll be here to help Wangji when you're gone, should he need it." 

Lan Xichen tries to fight, to shout, but the paralysing incense has taken hold too well. He is unable to resist when Nie Huaisang forces him to slit his own throat. 

Nie Huaisang watches him bleed to death quickly, letting go of Lan Xichen's body when it goes limp. As he stands again, he is careful not to step in blood, and puts a letter well in view, so it won't be missed by whoever finds the body. As a precaution, he gathers the ashes of that special incense he had a corrupt servant put in place, and burns some ordinary one so the scene is complete. 

It is a work of art. Nie Huaisang is almost sorry nobody will know this new masterpiece is his as well. 

But at last, Nie Mingjue is avenged, and Nie Huaisang is free.

[chilling-in-the-dark]

The Batboys Growing Up as Yanderes Part 3: Jason Todd

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements obsession, over protectiveness, kidnapping, physical and mental abuse. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.

As always, feedback is welcomed, and a special thanks to @yanderepeterparker who was my Beta for this.

It wasn’t long after Dick, and his family moved to Bludhaven with the intent of becoming his own hero, that Bruce found Jason. The kid had been trying to steal the tires off the Batmobile, Jason had nerve Bruce would give him that, but a lack of common sense that was astounding. Then again, maybe it was because the kids in Gotham knew Batman would never really hurt them; after all, he had rules against harming children.

Bruce knew Mrs. Wayne would be happy about having adopted a child again; she’d missed having a kid around the house with Dick’s daughter Mary gone. She’d been going on lately about how the manor was to quiet.

It wasn’t long after Bruce took in Jason Todd that he found out about you, the girl Jason was in love with. It hadn’t been hard because Jason had always had a protective streak in him, he didn’t want to see the people he loved get hurt.

So, he’d protect them no matter the cost, even if that cost was stealing food out of the manor cupboards and making a break for it every other day. Only for Jason to return before dinner, but without the food. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Jason was taking the food to someone. Bruce being Batman, it hadn’t taken him long to find out that it was you.

You and Jason had started out as one of those kindergarten couples that were “Dating,” but then that had never really come to an end, so the two of you were still a couple.

You and Jason had been caught together and taken back into foster care more than once. Plus, the two of you had always run away on the same day, likely because of some predetermined plan. There was even one report of Jason trying to stab a police officer with a broken piece of glass he found on the ground because the man had pulled your arms behind your back hard enough to make you scream.

In fact, When Bruce confronted Jason about you Bruce learned that the only reason he’d tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile was because the two were about a day or so away from starving and he couldn’t let that happen to you, no all he wanted was to keep you safe.

Bruce saw the signs in Jason that he was like Dick and him. He’d offered to let Jason secretly bring you to the manor, out of the eyes of social services, so that Jason wouldn’t technically be dating his sister. Jason had been grateful for that.

Alfred had made you and Jason sleep in separate rooms, which was strange for both of you because you were used to sleeping in Jason’s arms, more out of practicality than anything else. After all, Gotham was cold at night.

It made Jason happy to know you were safe. Bruce had gone out of his way to stoke the flames of Jason’s overprotective nature, making it so that if Jason ever had any chance of being normal, it was gone entirely by the time he died.

Besides wanting to cover you in bubble wrap, Jason wasn’t so bad, that is until he died and came back to life.

You’d collapsed at his funeral; it took everything in you not to just give up on life. Jason had been your love and safety net. You’d lost your reason for getting up in the morning when he died, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself; in fact, it had been Tim to suggest starting the Jason Todd Foundation.

It was a charity that set up and maintained safe shelter for the children Gotham had given up on. It had felt good to know that you were helping kids like you and Jason, but that didn’t stop the empty hole in your chest from aching every time you thought about him, which was constantly, even after all these years.

So, when Bruce called the little apartment that you’d moved into after he adopted Tim, to tell you he thought the Red Hood might be Jason, you were happier than you’d been in a long time. You didn’t care that was killer, you’d love him no matter what he did because he was your Jason. Your sweet, kind, caring Jason.

At least that’s what you thought until he’d showed up on your doorstep covered in blood and started yelling at you, calling you a traitor for not convincing Bruce to kill the Joker, seeming to forget that no one could persuade Bruce to do anything he didn’t want to. Then he called you something harsher for letting Bruce replace him. Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, Jason forced his way into your apartment, slammed the door behind him, and slapped you across the face so hard you tasted blood, demanding to know if you’d replaced him too.

He refused to believe you when you told him, no, and then he started calling you all sorts of filthy names, each one punctuated with a slap that would form a bruise somewhere on your body. You didn’t know when you began to cry, but after he was done screaming, you were a sobbing lump on the floor.

After he was done, Jason just stepped over you and made his way to the shower. You kept expecting to wake up from this nightmare, but it wasn’t a bad dream, no, you weren’t that lucky. Your kind if overly protective Jason was gone, now all that was left was a monster wearing his skin.

You’d thought Jason’s funeral was the worst thing you were ever going to have to experience, you hadn’t been able to listen to the song you played when they lowered him into the ground in years, but realizing that the man you loved was gone was even worse.

The next day after Jason left to attend to whatever business trying to kill the Joker entailed, you decided to pack up your stuff and leave Gotham, the only reason you had stayed in the city in the first place was because it held so many of your memories of Jason.

Now you were leaving the city because of the same person hoping to find a place where he wouldn’t be able to find you. Still, you should have known that wasn’t going to happen.  You were just at the city limits when one of Jason’s new goons shot out the tires of your car.

The man pulled you out of the driver’s seat and flung you into the back of a black passenger van, like the stereotypical thug he was. It wasn’t long after your abduction that you found yourself tied to a dining chair, ropes digging into your skin, leaving it bloody and raw. Your heart leapt from your chest when Jason walked into the room, his rage almost palpable as he glared at you.

Jason crossed the room with loud thundering steps, and once he was in from of you, he grabbed you by the throat and started squeezing while screaming at you for trying to leave him. Jason didn’t let go until black spots crowded the edge of your vision, releasing just long enough for you to get a few quick gulps of air before he started the process all over again. After he was satisfied that you’d learned your lesson, Jason made it very clear that if you ever tried to leave again, you’d be wishing that this was your punishment. You hung your head and started crying again, Jason just looked at you with disgust and left the room.

He didn’t bother to untie you until hours later when he sat a burger in front of you and demanded you eat. When you tried to refuse, Jason made it very clear that if you didn’t eat willingly, he’d force-feed you.

Walking on eggshells to keep from setting Jason off became your daily routine. Still some days, he acted like the Jason you had loved, and on those days, you almost didn’t hate him, but then he’d be right back to the man who abused you, refused to let you leave your apartment. At least he recognized the important work you were doing and allowed you to have supervised time online and on the phone so that you could still run The Jason Todd foundation.

You kept it going as a memorial to the boy you’d loved, the boy before he became the monster.

As time went on, Jason’s good days started to outnumber his bad, and then there weren’t any bad days at all. Still, that didn’t stop you from flinching every time he tried to touch you.

Jason crouched in front of where you sat curled up on the sofa so that he could look into your eyes. “I’m sorry, you know that, right?” Jason said, his voice cracking a little as he gently stroked his fingers down your cheek, pulling it away when you tensed involuntarily. “It’s not an excuse, but I wasn’t all there, a side effect of the pit, but I promise I’m never going to hurt you again.”

“So you say, but Jay, if you’re really sorry, you’ll let me go,” You tried to plead with him, only for him to stand up and shake his head.

“It’s not safe out there, baby, you know that,” Jason said as he turned to walk into the kitchen asking about what you wanted for dinner, refusing to speak any more about you leaving.

Tags:

@yanderepeterparker​

@idkmanicantenglish​

@prettyafghan

Grow up as only

@neon-phosphorecsent​

@foggyturtleknightangel​

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

No but I did this in the tags of another post that I reblogged but I’m actually kind of in love with this idea for a “Renfri lives and travels with Geralt sometimes and meets Jaskier” fic. So I’m expanding it and posting it separately!

So, think about like, what if Jaskier wasn’t actually born in Lettenhove?

Like, what if he was born to a king who lost his queen in childbirth? And what if his 9-year-old sister peered into his crib and saw him so small and helpless and alone. Their father can’t look at him because he’s the reason their mother is dead, their father can’t look at her because she looks so much like her mother. And this little baby, probably a month or two old at this point, looks up at her with wide cornflower-blue eyes and she loves him so fiercely she thinks it will burn her up, and Renfri makes a goddamn vow, as seriously as a 9-year-old princess can, that she’ll look after him always.

And she cares as much as she can. She’s still pretty little herself, but she plays with him and sings to him and glowers at his nurse when the woman gets irritated and yells because he won’t stop crying. Somehow this 10-year-old girl can always calm him, and that’s somehow worse, but at least the baby’s not screaming fit to bring the walls down anymore.

When Renfri is 12 and her baby brother Julian is 3 (and loves flowers and singing and hugs from his ‘Nenfi’, as he attempts to pronounce her name), their father remarries. Their new step-mother hates them both - she wants the children she will have with their father to be the future rulers of Creyden, and she is determined to remove them from the picture.

Renfri is the easiest target, because she has a temper (especially when it comes to defending Julian) and a fascination with death, and she was born under the black sun. Stregobor will later lie and say he delivered her on the day she was born, but really her step-mother simply has heard of him and his “black sun women” and requests he come “take a look” at her new step-daughter. She comes up with tales of murdered puppies and stabbed maids and tortured birds. and yes, there were starved diseased puppies that she wrung the necks of, while crying, because they were going to die and she didn’t want them to suffer. And yes, her maid was stabbed in the face when she tried to take a pretty comb away from Renfri when she was younger, and pulling so hard that when Renfri abruptly lost her grip, it flew back into her face and gouged into her eye. And yes, there was a bird, already dead when she found it, that Renfri had cut open to see what it looked like inside.

It took over a year, until she was 14, but finally Stregobor managed to have her 'dealt with’, saying she would be kept safe but really planning to have her killed so he could dissect her. And after that, he and her stepmother come to the king. The king, her father, who had never banned her from her time with Julian because he hadn’t quite believed any of the stories, and she’d always given every indication that she was viciously protective of the now-5-year-old boy, who she’d taken comfort in as her step-mother and Stregobor had done their best to gaslight her into believing she’d been as violent as they said, and as much of a mutated threat. And maybe she was mutated, maybe so, but Julian always loved her, and she never had felt a desire to hurt him even once.

But Stregobor convinced their father she was a monster, that he and their step-mother had been right. And they pointed out how much time she’d spent with Julian over the course of his life. They put forth the idea that she’d spent so much time with Julian she must have warped his mind somehow, making him unfit to be the crown prince and future king. Perhaps he’s under a curse she laid on him, or maybe just charmed to adore her always, but there was no telling - Lilit could likely work through him now after everything, and thus so could Renfri who had murdered her guard and fled.  It wasn’t safe for the child his wife was carrying to allow Julian to remain. And the king believed them.

So the people of Creyden were told that Prince Julian had died of a fever. Renfri hears when she’s 15, and she screams and screams and screams, because she is sure, she is convinced that Stregobor took him apart, to see if he’d been changed by being around her; and given the fact that he’d said as much, that he though perhaps she’d been slowly mutating him to use as a servant for the day she tried to bring Lilit into the world, that wasn’t a baseless fear. Another reason to want this man dead.  When she tracks Stregobor down in Blaviken, when she meets Geralt, in addition to the story she tells of what was done to her, she trembles with rage and tells Geralt about her 5-year-old brother, who was perfectly healthy and not suffering from a “long illness” like the official report had said, who Stregobor thought had been changed by her “powers”, who he almost certainly killed and dissected. And that’s just enough, just enough, to push Geralt over the edge. 

He comes late to the market still, he fights Renfri’s men still, but when she shows up with her knife to Marilka’s throat, she says ‘Julian was everything good in the world, and that bastard snuffed him out just because I loved him.  How is that not a monster?  He was five. He liked flower crowns and pretending to be a princess for me to save him from a dragon. Help me.” And despite the fact he knows he shouldn’t, Geralt thinks about what that little boy must have been like, and how much he’d meant to her, and thinks about the sort of beast that kills a five-year-old simply for having loved his sister and been loved by her.  And Geralt nods, and agrees, and helps.

No need to throw a rock at that wizard, because he’s dead as fuck.  The people of Blaviken whisper in the streets, but to be honest it’s not as if they weren’t a bit unsettled by Master Irion anyway. Geralt and Renfri walk away, together, for the foreseeable future.

But no, the King hadn’t allowed for Stregobor to experiment on his son. Instead, Julian was adopted by the Earl of Lettenhove and his wife, distant cousins of his mother’s, and was told he’d always been their child despite the fact he didn’t know them. He screamed and cried for Renfri, Renfri, Renfri, and they told him there wasn’t anyone named Renfri, that there was only his older sister Lisbet, we are your family, Julian, you’re just playing make-believe, you’re just imagining things, you’re just telling tales, stop lying Julian, you’ve never lived anywhere but Lettenhove.  And with time, he forgot. He’d still been so small, after all. And if he maybe liked the idea of cutting open a dead bird to see what was inside, or if he made flower crowns out of buttercups even though it made his mother yell because they’re poisonous, then that was just... himself.  And if he has memories of a soft high voice singing lullabies he’s never heard in Kerack, well, maybe he just dreamed them.

And Geralt and Renfri traveled, and Julian grew up and went to Oxenfurt, and emerged a musician with big dreams of fame and strange melodies in his head and a need to see the world. He renames himself Jaskier, after those flowers he’d always loved so much, beautiful and poisonous, and he can’t remember who taught him not to put them in his mouth, but he knows that it was with a laugh as a buttercup-and-clover crown was dropped on his head.

And Renfri doesn’t always stay with Geralt. She doesn’t murder at random, but sometimes... sometimes there’s a human monster that Isn’t A Witcher Problem. And then she takes a little time off, and Geralt pretends he doesn’t know what she’s doing. And while she’s off removing a rapist from his position of power, he goes to Posada on the rumor of a possible contract.

And he meets this bard. And this bard has an oddly-familiar look to him, and an oddly-familiar edge to his righteous anger, and when the bard follows him out of town to the place he’s meeting up with Renfri, he sees her eyeing the boy suspiciously, and him looking her over curiously, and it’s uncanny how similar they look. Except then he thinks.  He thinks how old he guesses the bard to be, and how long it’s been since Renfri told him about her 5-year-old brother, and how old that brother would be.

And Geralt pulls her aside while Jaskier’s eating, and asks if she’s sure Stregobor would’ve been given permission to experiment on her brother.

And she’s confused and irritated until Geralt jerks his head back towards the 18-year-old boy sitting on the other side of the fire. And then her eyes widen and she can’t quite take her eyes off him.

Because no, all of the sudden she isn’t sure anymore.

[mrfeenysmustache]

Some Family is Found

Summary: A collection of vignettes about the Higurashi family, from Single Dad Souta, schoolyard fights, blended family of three then four, and learning to let go and let fate take control.

"Papa Souta!"

Yanked from sleep with a harsh gasp, Souta was already half rolled out of bed and running before his eyes had fully opened. He knew that tone, scared and frail and small, and his body had become well trained over the last year to respond to it immediately.

He dashed quickly from his room to hers, throwing open the door and flinging himself inside right to her little bed where she sat wide eyed and terrified much like she had been when he'd first laid eyes on her.

"Towa! I'm here. You're safe. It was just another nightmare."

No sooner had he sat next to her had she thrown herself into his arms, shaking and snuggling while he crooned wordlessly and petted her soft, white hair.

The first time she'd called him Papa had been a night just like this one. A handful of months passed with her in his care and every night she woke in a fright, babbling about sisters and fires and someone named Setsuna. She'd clung to him just this way, rubbed her sniffling little nose into his shoulder and called him Papa with a shaky sigh that bound his heart right up.

Her nightmares came further apart from that night on, but every once in a while he was still needed to chase away the darkness.

"It's okay, it will all be alright." He shushed gently, swaying her back and forth while he scratched at her scalp and rubbed her back. Eventually she quieted down and then went limp with sleep again. He tucked her back into her bed, smoothed the hair back from her forehead and smiled at the peace that returned to her little cherub face.

He checked her alarm clock and sighed; it was early enough that she wouldn't normally be up, but his own alarm clock was about to go off, signaling his painfully early study hour. He was almost done with his degree and then waking before the sun could, hopefully, become a thing of the past. With one last look at the sweetly sleeping face of his little daughter, Souta quietly left her room to return to his own.

———

The bell chimed the end of the day and a flurry of tiny bodies rushed passed him, giggling and squealing and eager to leave the school yard behind until tomorrow. Souta gulped and straightened his shoulders before striding across the lawn and entering the doors once the last of the children had filtered out.

He'd spent enough of his own childhood here to know where he was going, and his legs carried him unconsciously to the principals office where he'd been called in for an important meeting.

He steeled himself at the door and took another deep breath before opening it dipping his head in greeting to the principal and eyeing the wilted form of the white haired toddler he'd been asked to come in to discuss.

His heart panged at the sight of her, his normally vibrant girl so small and sad and dejected, one of her pigtails drooping and a bright red scuff mark marring her round cheek.

'Oh no...'

"Higurashi-San, Thank you for coming."

"Of course." He replied, sitting in the empty seat across from the large desk.

A pair of sad red eyes shifted his way and he smiled softly, reassuringly.

The principal finally looked up from her paper work and blinked, looking perplexed before adjusting her glasses.

"I'm so sorry, there must be some confusion, I believe I requested that Towa-Chan's mother or father come in to speak today."

Souta winced internally, but kept his expression genial and placid.

"Yes, you did. There's no confusion. I am Higurashi Souta, Towa-Chan's father."

The principal blinked again and cleared her throat, looking between he and little Towa with a glint in her eye he didn't appreciate.

"My, you certainly look very young to be a father." She said crisply, and Souta bristled and struggled to keep his tone polite.

"I'm sure it doesn't surprise you to know I hear that quite a lot."

"Yes well. Let's get to the point, shall we? Towa-Chan has been exhibiting some shocking behavior of late. We are very concerned."

"As are we, she's made us aware that she's been on the receiving end of some unfair teasing."

The principal sniffed and shuffled her papers before folding her hands primly.

"Be that as it may, we can not tolerate violence against our other children, and Towa has instigated several physical altercations this week alone. Unless something drastic is done, she is risking expulsion."

His eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his seat, meeting the principal's gaze unflinchingly before looking once again on Towa. She still didn't look up, staring at her feet and making herself as small as possible. It broke his heart, and he heaved a sigh before looking back to the principal with a smile.

"I understand. I'll talk with her tonight. Thank you for your time."

He stood and scooped Towa up from her seat. She curled into him and he strode quickly out of the building. He stopped on the stairs to switch her over to his back, and after hooking his arms behind her knees she rested her head against his shoulder and sighed a forlorn sigh.

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I caused so much trouble."

Her little voice, small and broken, tore into him, and he wondered if he might be doing something wrong.

He knew he was young to be a father, especially to a school aged child like Towa. She was barely six, but he wasn't quite out of university just yet, and was far from the ideal situation for having small, helpless people depending on you. He still had so much to learn himself.

"Don't worry about it Towa-Chan. No one wants to be picked on. You just need to remember your strength. You aren't like the other kids, you're much stronger."

"Okay." It was barely above a whisper, and Souta hated for her to sound like that.

The rest of the journey home was made in heavy silence, but Mama Higurashi swept in to lend her gentle touch and Souta watched Towa brighten a little under her attention.

Cookies and tea and an affectionate pat on the head as her grandmother helped her color a picture soon had Towa back on track and Souta sighed in relief.

"Why don't you go and study for your upcoming final and leave us girls to our own business, hm?"

"Thanks mama."

——

Mama Higurashi tearfully hung the picture she'd taken just a few nights before on the wall, brimming with love and pride.

Souta smiled back from the center of the frame draped in his graduation gown with Towa beaming atop his shoulders, his graduation cap covering her white hair.

It's not what she ever expected the photo of his university graduation would look like, but she glanced at the high school graduation photo of her firstborn daughter and grinned.

Both of her children seemed fated to walk interesting paths that twisted off from the rigid one set in place by society at large.

She couldn't say she was anything but proud.

A squeal of delight drew her attention to the window nearby and she watched indulgently as Souta scooped Towa up before falling to the ground with her, tickling her sides while she laughed and wiggled away.

A thread of worry wrapped around her heart then and she said a silent prayer that this new school year coming up for her would be easier than the last.

A new school, a fresh start, hopefully her granddaughter would fare better with the students at this school than she had before. She was such a dear girl with an unshakable sense of justice that she already couldn't help but fight tooth and nail for.

The sun glowed off her little white pony tails and her smile stretched freely across her face, and Mama Higurashi found herself wondering not for the first time if they hadn't ended up adopting Kagome and Inuyasha's child.

She looked very little like them aside from her hair color, but she certainly had Kagome's sense of right and wrong and Inuyasha's strength to back it up.

The likelihood of that was low, especially as she'd only ever spoken of someone named Setsuna.

"Well, time to call them in for dinner."

———

"I'm sorry Papa Souta. I cause you so much trouble..."

"It's alright Towa. I was thinking this other school would be better for you anyway. They have a wrestling team!"

Her eyes still held a glimmer of uncertainty and guilt, and though he was was stressed and concerned, he didn't want her shouldering such feelings all the time.

He knew she remembered her life before he'd found her on his front lawn, that she'd come from somewhere else before they'd taken her in, before he'd decided raise her as his own child, and he had a suspicion that she feared he might one day grow tired of her escapades and be done with her.

But he just couldn't. She may not have come from him, but she was his.

He was going to stick with her no matter what.

We have to go pick up your uniform next week, they have several colors to choose from, is there one you like best?"

He handed her the brochures and watched her nose scrunch up at the list of pictures of skirts with different colors and numbers of pleats, and bit his lip to keep from laughing outright.

"Um, no, I don't have any preferences."

"You're sure?"

"Anything is fine, really!"

"Alright. Well, have you been practicing with the sword you found with grandpa the other day?"

Suddenly her face lit up like the sun, and Souta sat back and listened while she detailed all the things she'd been practicing that she'd seen on various internet videos.

Her last teacher had admonished him for allowing her to peruse such interests.

'It's wildly unlady like. You should not be encouraging swordplay from a girl who already can't control her violent urges with her peers!'

She'd even thrown in a barb about her lack of a mother.

But while Souta agreed that Towa needed to be less violent while at school, he couldn't imagine discouraging her from the things she loved, even if they weren't the most feminine.

She bounced around the room, showing him some of the swings and stabs she'd nearly mastered and he couldn't help but think her Aunt would be so proud to watch her follow in her footsteps.

———-

"Grammy, when will Papa Souta be home again?"

"Oh much later I think Dear. I'll be tucking you in tonight, is that alright?"

Towa nodded solemnly but then burst into bright giggles when she saw her grandmother pull the secret stash of cookies out from the back of the cleaning cabinet.

"It's a big night Towa, what say we celebrate early?"

Mama Higurashi sat on the couch and let Towa settle in beside her before opening the box and letting her select two.

"One for each hand!" She chirped, smiling up at her, red eyes glimmering. It was their long standing tradition and she cherished how much her rapidly growing granddaughter still enjoyed it. She was now teetering on the edge of childhood, a vibrant girl rapidly approaching her pre-teen years.

"One for each hand my darling."

"So... you think she'll say yes?"

Mama eyed her granddaughter for a moment, but her face was unreadable.

"I do. She's a lovely woman."

"Yeah. She is."

"Do you not wish for her to join the family?"

Towa crunched into her cookie and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"It's not that. What if she doesn't like living with me all the time?"

"Oh Towa honey, Moe-Chan loves you! She's probably the most understanding person we've ever known. She's certainly taken everything in stride."

"She makes Papa Souta happy."

"She does. You know most of all he wants you to be happy though, right dear?"

"And I want him to be happy too. So yes, I hope she says yes tonight." Towa replied, leaning into her grandmother's side.

"Can we watch my favorite movie tonight?"

"That awful horror film? No chance young lady!"

Towa erupted into giggles while her grandmother put on calm, soothing movie they both enjoyed, and Towa drifted off into sleep feeling safe and content.

———-

Moe Higurashi hovered awkwardly in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching Towa as she sat still as a statue at the dining table, head down and pillowed on her arms. She heaved a tired sigh, and Moe's heart constricted.

She'd known before she married Souta that his daughter had many troubles at school. She was strong and sure and didn't stand aside when others were being mistreated. Thus, she was often a target for those who wanted to prove themselves stronger than her.

Towa had started another new school just this week, and already the fighting had started again. She could practically feel the stress and guilt oozing off her young step-daughter's young shoulders, and she wanted so badly to do something about it without overstepping any boundaries.

An idea struck her and she stepped quietly away to retrieve her violin from her room. Towa had not moved an inch when she returned, and in fact didn't seem to be aware of anything outside of her own troubled thoughts.

Moe hesitated for one more moment before delicately clearing her through and startling Towa out of her funk.

"May I sit here please?"

Towa nodded and watched silently as Moe took the seat across from hers and began tuning the strings of her violin. And then, without a word, she brought the instrument up, held it in place, and pulled the bow across the strings. She played something low and soothing, something that filled the room as well as all the stormy spots in Towa's mind until she felt the tension melt from her.

She put her head back down, but this time Moe noted with pride that her shoulders were noticeably less rigid. She continued to play even after Towa lifted her head and listened with a smile.

———-

There had been many times in the month since bringing his new baby home that Souta thought his heart would burst open with love and pride and happiness, and this time was no different.

Little Mei, still so small and sleepy and new, was reclined comfortably on a soft blanket his mother had knitted. She was fast asleep, swaddled tightly into a little bundle, and Towa had stretched out on the floor next to her, gazing lovingly down at her and running her fingers over the soft, wispy hairs on her head. She was whispering something, something he couldn't quite make out, but the look of devotion on her face toward her new little sister took his breath away. They were as mismatched a set as he'd ever seen. Mei's soft brown hair and eyes contrasted sharply to the burning red of Towa's eyes, or the shock of silver that grew from her head, but they both lived deep inside his heart.

Moe entered from the opposite side of the room from the kitchen with a flour stained apron around her waist.

"There are my girls! Towa, I've brought you a cookie fresh from the oven."

"Thank you Mama Moe." She whispered in return, careful not to wake her sister, and Souta watched Moe valiantly attempt to keep her own emotions in check. He knew how much it meant to her that Towa had grown so close to her.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Moe went back into the kitchen, and Souta took another indulgent moment to watch his daughters begin forging their bond.

————

Souta held his smile until the moment the shining portal winked out of existence, and then his expression fell and he grabbed desperately for his mother's hand.He squeezed it and she responded immediately.

"Souta, what's wrong my son?"

"How-" he gulped around the fear rapidly growing and choking him, watched Moe scoop up a crying Mei, silent tears tracking down her own face, and knew the dam on his emotions would break soon. "How did you do it mama? How did you... how did you let Kagome go over and over and over? How were you always okay with this?!"

Mama sighed and rubbed his back, staring off into nothing for a moment as old fears and anxieties swam back up from the recesses of her memories.

"Come inside my dears, let me make you some tea and try to ease your worries. At least, let me help you try to manage them better than I was able."

Souta hung back until the others had filed inside and looked back at the place his daughter had just disappeared without a trace. He'd watched his sister vault over the well time and again and remembered the distant fears he'd had for her as a child.

But she'd had Inuyasha, his larger than life living legend brother-in-law who he was convinced could beat any opponent conceivable.

This time, he wasn't a child anymore, and this wasn't his sister.

This was his child, one he'd practically grown up with he'd been so young when he'd adopted her.

And though he knew what she was, the very same sort of being his childhood hero was, still he worried.

For her safety, for her wellbeing, for her life.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment he prayed, that she would remain safe and unharmed, that she would find what she was looking for, that she would solve her quest, that she would return to them.

And then he wiped the tears from his face, and turned from the Sacred Tree that had taken her away, and he walked inside, trailing pieces of his heart behind him.

[teentitanimals]

AU Where All the Batkids are in School but are Still Superheroes

I see a lot of No Powers Highschool AUs out there, but superheroing is half the fun to me. And yeah, technically, I’m pretty sure most of the Batfam have been to school, but I mean, at the same time? You’d have to squish their ages down, but I think it’d be wild! And also, it’s all the Batkids (and some Superkids because why not, they go to the same school in this AU, okay?), including Helena, Terry, Matt, etc. And yes, they all keep their backstories (as in, Terry and Matt are still McGinnis’s too, and all that.) Also, I suck at knowing the education level system and ages, so, just a warning there.

Not in School (duh): Bruce, Alfred, Selina, Jim, Lucius, Clark, Lois, other adults

In (Fourth Year) College: Kate (23-24)

In (Second Year) College: Dick, Barbara (19-20)

In (First Year) College: Tam (18-19)

In Senior Year: Jason, Luke, Kara (17-18)

In Junior Year: Cass, Harper, Terry (16-17)

In Sophomore Year: Tim, Steph, Carrie, Duke, Conner (15-16)

In Freshman Year: Damian, Helena, Colin (14-15)

In 8th Grade: Matt, Jon, Cullen (13-14)

In 4th Grade: Timothy Fox (9-10)

In Kindergarten: Tiffany (5-6)

Who Stays Where?

For reference, I’d say they all go to a school somewhere between Gotham and Metropolis, rather than Gotham Academy or Metropolis High. Let’s call it... Mediocre High. A mediocre school for completely normal, mediocre kids.

Stays in Metropolis w/ Clark and Lois, but are at Wayne Manor 90% of the time anyway: Kara, Conner, Jon

Has their own apartments/safehouses but are at Wayne Manor 90% of the time time anyway: Kate, Dick, Jason, Tim, Steph, Harper

Stays at Wayne Manor: Terry, Cass, Carrie, Duke, Damian, Helena, Colin, Matt, Cullen (unless Cullen stays with his sister... or if any of them run away, because they do that often too)

Stays with their parents, or at their own apartments, and are at Wayne Manor a little less than 90% of the time anyway: Barbara, Tam, Luke, Timothy, Tiffany

What’s the Sitch with Relationships?

Biologically Bruce’s, and known to the public as biologically Bruce’s: Damian, Helena

Biologically Bruce’s, but not known to the public as biologically Bruce’s: Terry, Matt (these two often visit their mother!)

Legally adopted by Bruce: Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke

Not legally adopted by Bruce but, come on, they’re his kids anyway: Harper, Cullen, Carrie, Colin

Family Friends that are like siblings/cousins (or siblings-in-law ;3): Kara, Conner, Jon, Barbara, Steph, Tam, Luke, Timothy, Tiffany

Wine Aunt/Older Sister: Kate

Shenanigans

It was a hilarious bit started by Steph and encouraged by Dick, Jason, and Carrie that they should all stuff themselves into the smallest limo or helicopter possible and crawl out like clowns. It was funny, to be fair, but the bloodshed spilled because of it banned them from doing it again. The kids got split into two separate cars after that, but eventually went back to one big limo, except for those who’d prefer to keep their sanity and drive there on their own (assuming they have a licence).

This batch of kids, excluding Kara, Conner and Jon, are often referred to as the “Wayne kids”, or the “Gotham kids”. Sometimes Kara, Conner and Jon get called Gotham Kids as well, despite being from Metropolis and proud. They’re vocality from protesting against being called Gotham Kids earned them the nickname “Not-Gotham Kids”.

Damian, Helena, Colin, Matt, Jon and Cullen are one of Those groups. Often together, closely knit, all characters on their own, but together, they lose all braincells. Teachers love all of them individually (with the exception of Damian), but are absolutely terrified of them as a group.

The second group most like that would be the girls- Tam, Kara, Steph, Cass, Harper, Carrie and sometimes Barbara, Kate and Helena. Alone, they’re pretty good kids, but together their chaotic-ness knows no bounds.

Who are we kidding? All of these kids are like that. Put any two together, and you’re either going to see someone get stabbed, a glitter bomb explode, an impromptu dance session, or debate the pronunciation of “bologna” for an hour.

Due to Damian often claiming he’s the rightful heir as the blood son, Helena, Matt and Terry will often pipe up to remind him that he isn’t the only blood son (or daughter, in Helena’s case). This often causes problems, not because Damian attacks them (verbally or physically), but because Terry and Matt aren’t, in the public’s eye, biologically Bruce’s, so the kids often have to scramble to make up some excuse to outsiders, often settling with it being an inside joke.

In this AU, Terry and Matt go by “Futurebat and Futurebird” because Why Not? As for Conner and Jon both being Superboy... how about, we just keep it that way? Because, really, Why Not? The public dubs them both the “Superboys”, and there’s no need to change it for now. Sometimes Conner gets called the Superclone, but mostly they just differentiate by some variation of “Superboy One/Uno and Superboy Two/Dos”. Sometimes “Superteen and SuperPre-Teen” when Jon was a bit younger. Also, think of all the shenanigans that can arise from that. Amazing.

Damian, at first, had as much hate towards Helena (and eventually Terry and Matt when they learned of them as well) as he did towards Tim. But, Helena always found his anger a bit funny (so long as it wasn’t life-threatening, which it often was). She never wanted to “be the heir” to Batman or Catwoman. She just happened to be their kid, and she wanted her own hero persona anyway, aka The Huntress.

To explain the situation with Helena, Terry and Matt, I’d say Helena (who’s a few months younger than Damian) was raised by Bruce and Selina, but the two’s relationship was on-and-off, and there were long periods where Selina would solo-parent Helena and Bruce (or Alfred and/or Dick, really) would solo-parent Helena. Eventually, the two got their shit together and are currently in a loving relationship, but not married yet. Terry and Matt were, of course, kept hidden from Bruce, being raised by Warren and Mary in a loving family. Eventually, after the death of Warren, and Terry trying to strike out as a solo hero, and the discovery that his DNA matched Bruce’s rather than Warren’s, their story was revealed that Terry was planned to be “future Batman” by Amanda Waller (needless to say Damian did Not Like That). Terry confronted Bruce and told him about it, and eventually Matt would learn the truth as well.

The only people Damian actively calls by their first names are Jon, Colin and Helena. Helena is only because Damian didn’t want to admit she was a Wayne at first (even though her legal last name in this AU is Kyle-Wayne).

They have a lot of animals, some are permanent, some come and go, some are just strays they feed, but nothing will compare to the amount of cats they have. The majority are strays that stay outside of the manor, yes, but they have too many. Sometimes they’ll be walking down a street opposite side of Gotham, and see one of their cats. This isn’t even because Selina now lives with them, and she brought her cats with her. No, it’s because Dick, Barbara, Jason and Steph, among others, loved the idea of Catwoman being a crazy cat lady, so they kept getting her more cats, which, in turn, gave everyone a new cat. And Damian was not helping in the least bit. Selina at least tried to stop them from bringing more cats home, but Damian would smuggle them back in anyway. Bruce honestly wishes someone had a cat allergy so they would have an excuse not to have that many cats.

Helena is a dog person. She likes cats, but... Dogs.

The Batkids all fight over the right of getting to babysit Tiffany.

Cass is often called the Good Kid by teachers and staff. That is not true, the true Good Kid is Duke. This is because he’s the only one that can maintain his braincells even in a group... 90% of the time, anyway.

Half of these kids will vanish during school hours to go stop some crime even though Bruce has repeatedly told them not to do that. The other kids who are not superhero vigilantes or manage to respect said rule (which is not often) scramble to make excuses for them. No excuse has ever been something normal, but it works because “When have Wayne kids ever been normal?”

School events like dances and football games are awful. Some of the kids are aware going will be awful, and desperately try to get out of it, but someway, somehow, they always wind up there. It would have been chaotic enough just having the Gotham Kids go, but when they bring their friends too (Teen Titans, Young Justice, Outlaws, whomever), there’s no hope. Their classmates at school both fear and look forward to these events, depending on how they go down. On one hand, it’s the Waynes! You’re basically watching “Keeping up with the Waynes” in real life! On the other hand, oh god, don’t get caught in the crossfire, whatever you do, run for dear life if you must.

Amazingly, Dick is the only one who got permanently banned from these events. And he didn’t even do anything. Well... anything as bad as his siblings, anyway.

They have all gotten suspended at least once, whether they are a Good Kid or not. Jason is actually one of the Good Kids so long as his siblings aren’t around to annoy him, but he got caught with a gun once, and barely escaped getting expelled... well, actually, he didn’t barely escape it, he was a Good Kid after all. But it was still on the table. That was, miraculously, the only time he got suspended.

Damian, surprisingly, does not have the highest suspension rate, but he does have the highest “called into the office” rate. You can guess all the reasons- sneaking pets into school, sneaking wild animals into school, having knifes and/or other weapons on him, belittling other students (he’s not intentionally trying to bully them, but, he can’t help but point out what they’re doing wrong), arguing and insulting teachers, ditching class (for vigilantism of course), etc.

The highest suspension rate goes to Dick, before he went to college. Mostly it was just due to how often he would skip classes and not turn in homework, but occasionally he would get into fights (to defend another kid, usually). The schools hadn’t yet gotten tolerable to the chaos that is the Waynes yet.

I suppose I should list the Good Kids. They are as follows: Cass, Duke, Jason, Luke, Helena, Cullen, Jon and Tiffany (she is Small and Innocent).

The Bad Kids: DAMIAN, Conner, Steph (she likes causing trouble for fun), Carrie (same as Steph, but more class clown-y) and Terry (mostly when he was younger).

The Bad Kids Sometimes: Harper, Timothy Fox, Kara

The Neutral Kids: Tam, Tim (depends on whether he’s crashed from lack of sleep or caffeine overdose), Dick, Matt, Barbara

The “Troubled” Kids (don’t label them that schools, rude): Colin, Cullen too technically but he’s more “Good”, Kate, literally all of them depending on the time of day (or night, specifically)

[imagine-loki]

Beauty and the Beast

TITLE: Beauty and the Beast CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 50/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki is under a spell that will return him to his Aesir one if he learns to accept himself for who he is RATING: T (so far)  NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 here

Thor nodded his agreement with Loki’s words about Morgan’s premonitions. “Mother also believes that Morgan’s premonitions are stronger and more accurate because of her blindness,” he agreed.  He paused, then added gently: “Wanda decided that if Morgan was having visions of you, then you were still alive.  She decided it best not to fret about the rest as long as you were still alive,” 

Loki chuckled.  “That sounds like Wanda,” he said fondly.  He adored his adopted little sister and magic student.  

Thor laughed and stroked Morgan’s hair absently.  The pair were clearly close and had gotten that way in Loki’s absence.  “That it does.  I’m surprised she hasn’t somehow found out you’re home and snuck her way here. I’m sure mother will send word to her once she’s gotten enough sleep,” Frigga also adored Wanda and treated her like an adopted daughter whenever Loki brought her to Asgard.

Loki had yet to move toward Morgan.  He wasn’t sure of his welcome.  Wasn’t entirely sure Thor would let him.  He didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her after how he’d treated her, after what he’d done to her.  Thor noticed and stood.  “I best get to the Bifrost to escort Wanda here, I’m sure she’s on her way,” he teased.  He moved to leave so Loki could be alone with Morgan.

Loki tensed up for a moment, but relaxed when Thor accepted him and somehow knew exactly what he needed.  Loki nodded and gave his brother a grateful look.  “I will be here when you return,” he promised Thor and moved to take a seat in the chair next to Morgan’s bed. 

Thor nodded and headed out to collect Wanda, even if he had to go back to Midgard to get her.  It wasn’t terribly long before Loki was tackled out of the chair by Morgan’s bed.  “Starshy!!” Wanda cried as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.  As always, she addressed him as ‘older brother’ in her native Sokovian.  It was a term of endearment and Loki adored her for it. 

He laughed as he crashed to the floor, , using an arm to brace his fall automatically.  He wrapped his arms around Wanda, his magic was in effect keeping her safe from his cold.  He’d learned to control his Jotun abilities while he’d been on Jotunheim.  “Hello, sestra,” he said as he held Wanda tight, addressing her as his little sister as always.

Her arms remained tight around him as if afraid that he would disappear again if she loosened her grip on him.  “I missed you so much,” she managed to keep from wailing as she held him too tightly. 

“I missed you too, little sister. More than words can say,” Loki replied gently and stroked the teen’s hair.  He hated having hurt her.  

“Why did you leave us?” She asked him, tears in her eyes and in her voice.  

“To keep you safe from me. I didn’t have enough control over my Jotun abilities and I was a danger to those I care about,” 

Wanda thought that over and nodded as she curled herself in his arms.  “We were worried,” she finally said.  She understood that he’d had to leave, no matter how much she’d hated it and how much it had hurt.  

“I know, sastra. I apologize for worrying you so much. I never meant to hurt you,” Loki told her gently as he held her.  He absolutely loathed how much he’d hurt everyone around him, especially her and Morgan.  He didn’t deserve the family he had, especially with how much they clearly loved him and how much he’d hurt them. 

She nodded again, her head buried against his chest.  “Don’t leave us again like that. we love you too much, starshy,” she begged.

“I love you too, sestra. So much.” He hugged her tightly, his finger running through her hair soothingly.

She eventually relaxed in his arms, easy to forgive him since he was back and safe.  “Morgan said you were ruling Jotunheim?” she asked him, too curious as usual

“They figured out who I was. I didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter,” he said, grumbling about it. 

“Did Thor tell you everything you want to know about what you missed back home?” She changed the subject, understanding that he didn’t want to talk about Jotunheim. 

He shook his head “I didn’t really ask,”

“Anything you want to know?” She offered, knowing Loki found it easier to talk to her than to talk to Thor. 

“How has the team been? Bucky? Lady Natasha?” 

“Bucky and Nat are fine. And kissing. All the time,” she rolled her eyes at that.  “Bucky misses you, and keeps trying to be reassuring and saying you’re just off brooding somewhere and you’ll be back when you get your head out of your ass,” she added with a smirk.  

Loki laughed.  “That sounds like Bucky. I’m glad he and lady Natasha are finally together,”

“They’re happy together. Oh, and Doctor Strange has been teaching me some magic while you’ve been gone. Other than that I’ve mostly been hanging out with Pete and his friends…” Loki noticed that she had a glint in her eyes.  It was the slightly wistful look of a teenager with a crush.

Loki raised an eyebrow and smirked, teasing her.  “Am I sensing feelings for the arachnid?” He teased her gently.

She huffed and turned pink.  “Even if you were sensing feelings, it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t give me the time of day…” she pouted and grumbled.

“You won’t know if you don’t try, sestra,” he told her, his voice gentle and full of love and caring.

“He only has eyes for MJ. I’ve seen how he looks at her,” 

Loki hummed “Who is this MJ?” He asked with a glint in his eyes.  Maybe he could stab her so Wanda could be with Peter.

“The weird artsy girl. Her real name is Michelle,” she reminded him. 

Loki considered.  “You won’t know until you try, sestra. You might be surprised,”

Wanda nodded, but didn’t look convinced.  “Maybe…” she agreed to placate Loki. She gave him a look and then answered the question he clearly hadn’t wanted to ask. “She isn’t seeing anyone,” she told him gently, indicating Morgan.

Loki raised an eyebrow.  “And? I doubt, after the hurt I caused her, that she would be willing to give me another chance.” That was Loki’s biggest fear at the moment. And was something he deserved after how he’d treated her. 

“You won’t know until you try,” Wanda repeated his words back to him.  Annoying little sister.  

“Don’t use my words against me, sestra. You weren’t there. I broke her heart. I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted nothing to do with me,” Loki said firmly, hurt and pain in his voice.

“You did break her heart,” she agreed.  She had been there to pick up the pieces, as had the rest of the team. “She wouldn’t go into detail about what happened on Jotunheim, but she didn’t give up on you until then. That doesn’t mean you can’t fix it. And you clearly want to or you’d be literally anywhere else in the palace,” 

“I did what I had to in order to protect her. That doesn’t mean that I don’t still care about her. I love her. That will never change. But I will not dare to dream that I will be able to fix this or win her back. If she doesn’t want me, then I will leave her be. I only want her to be happy,”

Wanda sighed.  She wouldn’t waste her breath arguing with him when he wasn’t listening.  “Well, she hasn���t been happy without you,”

“That’s what I’ve heard. I just don’t understand why,”

“Love doesn’t always make sense,” she replied. She sighed again and admitted “Pepper did make her go on one blind date to get her out of the tower. It went so poorly that even Pepper agreed not to try to force her again,”

Loki looked pained, but nodded.  “She has a right to have a life…” he hadn’t expected her to wait for him.  He’d expected her to move on. 

Wanda shrugged and shook her head.  “She’s been as much of a recluse as you were. A few days ago was the first time she tried to leave the tower since she got back from Jotunheim,”

Loki looked over at Morgan, who was still asleep in the bed.  “I wish it could have been different. But after what I did to her, I thought it best to leave. I love her too much to hurt her,” he decided it best to change the subject. “Has there been any other troubling events on Midgard?”

Wanda shook her head. “Nothing of interest,” she reassured him. 

Before their conversation could continue, Morgan made a soft noise as she started to stir.  Wanda found herself picked up by Thor and forcibly removed from the room so Loki and Morgan could talk.  Loki was alone in the room with Morgan a moment later, somehow back in the righted chair next to her bed.

His heart was beating a million miles a minute.  He was terrified of her reaction to how he’d treated her.  But he was out of procrastination time. 

It was time to face the music.

[keiratheraven]

Bentley 8 Squad: Forgive and Heal

(I dedicated this post for this October AKA Mental Health Awareness month)

Every member of the Bentley 8 Squad has a dark past. All of them were problematic in their late teen or early young adult years.

Angela Pleasant (Bentley Queen). The miss “perfect”. She was a queen bee, cheerleader captain, honor student, and the girl squad leader. Her parents (Daniel and Mary-Sue Pleasant) put pressure on her to be the flawless daughter. She dedicated herself to become “The Perfect Princess”, but actually she thinks she’ll never be good enough. But she didn’t tell anyone about her battle with Bulimia, and no one believed her when she said there’s something wrong with her body. Everyone just said it’s just bad cramps, nothing more. Then she was diagnosed with Endometriosis at age 19. Although she was surrounded by many people, No one understands her pain and struggles. She's pursuing a master's degree in psychology from Sim State and has the ambition to become a psychologist, but her conditions keep restraining her.

Lilith Pleasant (Bentley Gothic). The black sheep of the family. Daniel and Mary-Sue favored Angela over her and abused her. They didn’t teach her to talk, walk, and use the toilet. They blamed her for everything. They liked to and slap and yell at her. She and Angela also hated each other and they’re always fighting every day. One time, Lilith ran away from their house because she couldn’t take it anymore. But eventually, the police found her and took her home. Since then, Daniel and Mary-Sue treat her better and Angela apologized to her, but later on, she was diagnosed with Type 1 Bipolar Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder. She pours all her emotions into arts and music, then took the art major at Sim State because her dream is to become a rock singer and illustrator at once. But her fluctuating moods and her addiction to self-harm make her questioning the future.

Dustin Broke (Bentley Rogue). The delinquent criminal. The death of his father and the way he died made him mad at the world. He took over his late father’s position as the man of the house and eventually became a criminal to support his family. But his mother became an alcoholic who liked to beat him up and throw an open bottle of alcohol at him. He also has substance abuse after he became a drug dealer. One time when he was in his college dorm at Foxbury, he sent Gordon King into boiling rage after he told him that he spent the drug-selling money for gambling besides his tuition, and Gordon beat the shit out of him mindlessly. Because of his drug addiction, he was diagnosed with Mild Schizophrenia. Sometimes, he thinks he’s already wasted. He doesn’t get enough sleep every night and always looking at the ceiling while he lies on the bed.

Dirk Dreamer (Bentley Brain). The genius, nerdy guy. He always put a good effort to do well in his life. He was an honor student in high school. But the death of his mother really shocked him, and his grades took a downfall. Eventually, he rose to make his late mother proud and his grades back to the top. Although he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes at age 16, he keeps studying hard and he got a scholarship to Sims University Medical School. He became the assistant lecturer of Dr. Worthington. But, not everyone admires him. The son of Dr. Worthington named Dr. Mark punched him hard when he was alone after finishing a class. He said that Dirk will never take over his place as a devoted medical student in their faculty because his father kept comparing him with Dirk. Dirk keeps it to himself and he never told Dr. Worthington. Although he wants to become a psychiatrist to recover his beloved seven friends, He almost gave up as a doctor because of his illness. He muses about it every night when he's alone because he has to act as a strong, resilient young doctor in front of everyone.

Ophelia Nigmos (Bentley Flower). The mysterious and anxious girl who was desperate for a family. Her parents died when she was ten, and she was raised by an (allegedly) murderer aunt. She was haunted by many ghosts in her near-graveyard house, and Aunt Olive wasn’t the nicest person to be around with. She liked to scold her over the smallest things. She was cold and indifferent to her. One time, she humiliated Ophelia in front of her high school. Many people looked at them, but Ophelia couldn’t do anything to hide the shame. It caused her to have Anxiety and Paranoid personality disorders. Because of this, Ophelia is always anxious when she has to talk in front of many people, so she dreamed to become a novelist and songwriter. Eventually, Aunt Olive died when she was attending La Fiesta Tech. Ophelia mourned her death, but the wounds that Olive gave to her aren’t easy to forget.

Puck Summerdream (Bentley Fancy). The lucky fairy guy who was adopted by loving parents and also a kid sister. He didn’t want to get involved with Capp-Monty feuds in Veronaville and always be kind to them. He also had a crush on Hermia Capp, who became his girlfriend after they kissed for the first time at Puck’s party. But Mercutio Monty didn’t like it and got mad at them. The next day, he beat Puck's ass and took his money at the schoolyard. "That’s for stealing my girlfriend", he said. Puck hid his feelings and cried when he got home. Later on, he attended Academie Le Tour with Hermia. He took double majors: music and mathematics cause his dream is to become a classical musician. But, a tragedy struck. Hermia got shot in a mass shooting and died when she was buying heart medications for Puck. Puck fell into a Major Depression, and his heart condition got worse. Years have passed, but he couldn’t forget her despite many women want him.

Ripp Grunt (Bentley Clown). The tragic hyperactive joker. His mother died when he was eleven, and he was raised by the disciplined-yet-abusive General Buzz Grunt. Buzz liked to punch him when he didn’t obey him, and his brother, Tank Grunt, used him as his punching bag. One time, Tank threatened him to tell Buzz about Ripp’s bisexuality just because Tank didn’t like that Ripp partnered with his crush, Anna, at the school lab. But Ripp never showed his real feelings, except for Ophelia and Johnny. He smiled, joked, and laughed a lot, but actually, deep down he’s crying. He cries a lot and is also tortured by loneliness when he’s alone, but he keeps hiding his feelings by “The Funny Guy” mask. Despite the abuse of his father and brother, Ripp has the talent to entertain others by acting, singing, and play the guitar, so he took the drama major at Britechester. He suffers from ADHD, and gastritis caused by the longtime stress of the abuse. He misses his mom so much and always musing about her.

Johnny Smith (Bentley Leader). The carefree green guy. He was happy. Being the “normal” family in “abnormal” alien descent made him proud of his heritage. Despite having green skin, Johnny was so confident. He’s a sporty jock guy who likes to exercise, play soccer or basketball. He tried so hard to fit in at his high school and every surrounding. His neighbors see him no differently, except Buzz and Tank Grunt. He and Tank always fighting with each other in high school, but it didn’t affect Johnny’s happy life. Then, one night changed everything. When he was 18 and attending as a freshman at La Fiesta Tech, he got attacked by nine people and stabbed on his abdomen due to a hate crime against alien sims. When his blood ran down, the culprits threw him into the smelly and filthy dumpster. He fell into a coma, but luckily for him to have alien blood, he recovered very quickly and regained consciousness after five days. But since then, he has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. He got Minor Depression and having suicidal thoughts as well.

However, everything gets better when all of them get together. They’re having medical treatments for their mental and physical condition, counseling, and group therapies. They’re completing each other and have special bonds. Their stories might be different, but that’s what makes them united besides their love for Bentley cars. Together, they learn to be stronger, nicer, wiser and be a better person. They also want to recover from their past traumas through medications and strong friendships.

In the end, they learn to let go and forgive everything in their pasts. They realized it’s useless to blame themselves, and everything happens for a reason. Because the past doesn’t define who they are. Trauma might be hard, but eventually, they have to face them instead of avoiding them. That’s the meaning of growing up, healing the wounded souls, and moving on. They never stopped chasing their dreams despite their disabilities and keep supporting each other just like a real family.

And it was an early fall in Bridgeport, Sim City. At the anniversary of their establishment of Bentley 8 and Im-perfection community, they decided to go to a resort. They had some fun there. Angela made grilled salmon and cheesesteak for their lunch. Johnny and Dirk played soccer. Meanwhile, Ripp, Dustin, Ophelia, Lilith, and Puck roasted some marshmallows. When they are together, They’re creating memories because tomorrow is never guaranteed. But, no matter what happens tomorrow, they are grateful to still have each other.

"The past can't haunt me if I don't let it

Live and learn and never forget it

Whoa, gotta learn to let it go

Learn to let go, learn to let go

Learn to let go" - Kesha, 2017

[c-optimistic]

brave

They met as wide-eyed, sticky fingered, mess inclined, and chatty third graders. And Kara had known it was a love story from the start.

Well, all right. No, she didn’t know at eight years old, per se. She certainly had figured it out by the time they were seniors in high school, but in third grade, watching some short, grubby, sniffling boy attempt to shove Lena off the swing set made Kara see red, not hearts, ending up with a fistful of the boy’s shirt, making threats there was no way she could’ve backed up. (That bully hadn’t seemed to realize that; she found out he’d transferred schools not a week later, teachers citing he had ‘irreconcilable issues’ with the other students—namely, Kara.)

The point, of course, was that it wasn’t exactly the beginning of some romantic love story. Rather, it turned into Lena’s favorite thing to talk about when they met new people, an icebreaker of sorts when she met with investors and board members and random strangers on the street, the lot of them chuckling over Lena Luthor’s childhood best friend.

(“She was barely three feet tall, I swear. But she scared him with nothing but narrowed eyes and a gritted voice and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more impressive. My best friend was, and I guess still is, a badass.”

Not that she’d admit it, but Kara always blushed at the story and at Lena’s added comment at the end.)

And the thing was, she knew she screwed up. Because Lena was more than just a best friend to her—most times, Lena felt a little bit like everything. Lena was her rock, her anchor, her grounding point. When everything was going wrong in her life, it had been Lena that she turned to, Lena who held her hand, Lena who allowed her to sob on her shoulder.

Falling in love with her best friend wasn’t a part of their story. Until, well, it was. And once it happened, it felt pretty damn inevitable. (Like the sun rising. Like the stars shining. Like the rising and falling tides. Like the changing of seasons and the blooming of flowers and the fresh scent of an afternoon breeze.)

Yet, when Kara shared these thoughts with the others in her life, she wasn’t exactly met with a response that inspired much confidence. Alex just laughed at the use of the word inevitable, Winn questioned her sanity more than once, and James had pulled her into a silent hug. And yes, their support would’ve been nice, but it’d gotten to the point that Kara didn’t care what they thought, because they hadn’t been there the day she met Lena. Her sister and friends weren’t there when Kara turned to Lena, her chest heaving in anger, horrified that anyone would dare hurt someone over a swing set, and Lena had smiled at her, stuck out her hand (already practicing her future career, already charming and clever and confident), and leaned forward.

“Hi,” she’d said, “I’m Lena. Thanks for helping me.”

And Kara (clumsy, cheerful, and carefree) promptly fell in love.

It just took her ten more years recognize it for what it was, then another ten before she did anything about it.

x

Lena was her best friend.

She didn’t come to such a conclusion lightly. No, at nine years old and precocious to boot, Kara took great care in the way she labeled the people in her life. Alex was her sister in all but blood—their families close, spending most free evenings and weekends with Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah—and Clark, her actual blood relative, was a continual disappointment, making promises he seemed never able to keep.

And Lena, Lena was her best friend.

“Is that why you talk about her so much?” her mother asked one afternoon, home early from work, an exhausted but pleased expression on her face. “Because she’s your best friend?” Kara didn’t understand the wry smile, the funny expression. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully, bounding over to her mother and ignoring her aunt’s snort from where she sat in the kitchen, head buried in a book, hands preoccupied with a mug of hot chocolate (the one she made for Kara long finished, burnt tongue forgotten in the repeated—and rejected—requests for more). “Like you and father! Or Aunt Astra and Uncle Non!”

Astra looked up at the sound of her name, brows furrowed in the way that Kara worked so hard to mimic, and she put her mug aside, lips quirking into something resembling a smile.

“Oh little one,” she began slowly, shaking her head as she clearly steeled herself to say something, her eyes soft in the way she only ever looked at Kara. “That’s not—”

“—it’s fine, Astra,” Kara’s mother interrupted, her own smile still in place. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out eventually without our help. Kara’s a smart girl.”

Astra laughed and agreed, neither her nor Kara’s mother deigning to answer Kara’s repeated questions as to what was so funny.

(Later, Kara will find solace in the fact that though she was too young and too naïve to put her feelings into words, her aunt and mother had understood anyway. Even years later, it felt important that her family had known about what she felt for Lena—it was a big thing in her life, and she was glad she somehow shared it with her family.)

x

Lena did not get along with her adoptive mother.

Kara wasn’t sure why, Lena never quite explained or even acknowledged it except with soft sighs and resigned expressions. Alex told Kara that the Luthors were an old family—Kara didn’t really understand what that meant and Alex assured her once she was a teenager it’d make sense—and that Lillian Luthor was a stickler for tradition.

(The truth was that Eliza and Jeremiah had worriedly discussed a bruise Kara had mentioned to her parents offhandedly when telling them every detail about her day with Lena, and Alex had merely repeated phrases she’d heard her parents utter.

The truth was that ‘did not get along’ was an understatement, not at all an accurate description of what Lena dealt with everyday, and yet those in any position to offer help were rendered powerless against a name like Luthor and everything that entailed.)

Kara wasn’t a teenager like Alex, she wasn’t wise like Lena, but the same protective instinct she’d felt in elementary school made a raging comeback in middle school when Lena confided to her that she was afraid to go home, afraid to disappoint her mother somehow. And it was so different from Kara’s own experiences—her own desire to spend as much time as she could with her busy mother, looking forward to the days she wasn’t buried in cases, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt as she finally walked through the door late at night, forcing the exhaustion from her face and smiling wide at Kara—that she took Lena by the hand and told her quite firmly that she didn’t have to go home at all.

When Lionel Luthor himself came by their home several hours later, he frowned at the protective way Kara stood in front of Lena, listened carefully to what Kara’s mother had to say, then knelt down and placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m very glad Lena has a friend like you, Kara,” he said, using his free hand to rub his bald head unconsciously, weariness tingeing his actions and words. “Do you mind if she spends more of her time here?”

“Of course not,” Kara answered, almost offended that he even felt the need to ask. Lena was her best friend. She didn’t think there was anything she wasn’t willing to do for Lena.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lionel Luthor said as he got back to his feet, looked over to Kara’s parents now. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Thank you for your daughter.” He grinned over at Kara, holding out a hand for Lena, seemingly unsurprised that Lena took great care to first squeeze Kara’s hand in thanks before reaching out for her father.

(When she was tucked in that night, Kara’s mother told her she was proud of her, that she did the right thing bringing Lena home with her.

And many years later, Lena will squeeze her hand much like she had that day, smiling as she said, “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”)

x

She was thirteen when her parents died in that fire and her aunt and uncle were jailed for it.

Clark and the Danvers called it an explosion, the papers called it an attack by those who disagreed with her parents’ work, but Kara always referred to it as ‘that fire’ both in her head and out loud. It was ‘that fire that killed her parents,’ ‘that fire that ruined her life,’ ‘that fire that took everything from her.’ She didn’t want to give that fire legitimacy by giving it a proper name, a proper description. It was cruel and senseless and quick, and Kara could do nothing but hate that fire in the only way she knew how: by never dwelling on it, by never giving it a name.

(Calling it that fire rather than ‘murder’ or ‘crime’ or ‘loss of everything she once held sacred’ made her feel better, made her think that maybe one day she would hear the name Astra and not want to throw up, that she could think of her parents and not imagine the horror they must have felt when their own family stabbed them in the back.

Calling it that fire gave Kara distance and separation, two things she desperately needed unless she wanted images of a bright red flame tearing everything she held dear apart seared into the back of her eyelids, visible every time she closed her eyes.)

Only Lena had ever seemed to understand. Only Lena had never once brought it up, merely following Kara’s lead and referring to the explosion, the attack, the death of her parents, as nothing more than that fire.

And Kara was thirteen, she was heartbroken and alone, and Clark—the one her parents had named as her guardian in the event anything went wrong—packed his things and disappeared, leaving her with the Danvers.

(“I’m too young to be a parent,” he’d said, hugging her tightly. “I’m not good for you, Kara, please understand that.”

She didn’t, of course.)

And Kara was thirteen and she had Alex’s warm hugs at night, promising her that they were officially sisters and she’d always be there, and she had Lena’s tight grip on her hand at school, silently swearing she’d always lend her strength, the two of them spending every free moment together.

But Kara was thirteen, and she mistook the love she felt for Lena with the sort of love she felt for Alex, and that seemed enough at the time.

x

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, chin on Kara’s shoulder, eye on the sketchbook placed on the desk in front of her. She grimaced a little when she noticed the graphite coating Kara’s fingers, and she reached out, plucking each individual digit, prying them from the pencil in Kara’s hand, rolling her eyes when Kara merely huffed and hunched her shoulders, attempting to ward off Alex’s lanky limbs.

“None of your business.”

“You’re in the middle of the living room, it’s my business when you’re in my line of sight.”

“How about I use that argument when you’re chatting with whatever her name is on the phone until three in the morning?”

As if the words were a jolt of electricity, Alex’s arms pulled away from Kara, her entire body floundering as she stumbled backwards, managing nothing more coherent than a series of half-hearted monosyllabic protests.

“That was a low blow, Kara,” Alex hissed once she got her head on straight, looking decidedly annoyed. “You promised not to bring it up if I bought you ice cream after school.”

“You got me a Popsicle, it wasn’t the same and the deal is off.”

“What’re you hiding?” Alex asked, eyes suddenly narrowing, much more interested in the sketchbook than Kara felt comfortable with. “You’re always more snarky when you’re hiding something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of homework and I promised Eliza I’d help with dinner so—” She attempted to pick up the sketchbook and get up from her seat at the table, but Alex pushed her back down, tugging the sketchbook towards herself with only one finger, her movements exaggeratedly slow, as if daring Kara to stop her.

“Rambling and attempting to hide away?” She whistled, flipping the cover of the sketchbook open agonizingly slowly, one finger thumbing the bottom of the first page, drawing out the moment she’d finally turn it over. “It must be a big deal if you’re acting like this.”

“It’s really just a sketch, it’s nothing—”

Alex turned the page, and there, in graceful pencil strokes, was a sketch of their neighbor’s dog.

“Are you kidding? You were hiding this?” Alex demanded, sounding more disappointed than she had any right to.

“I told you it’s nothing, you didn’t believe me.” Kara held her breath, not daring to look away from Alex’s gaze, hoping that her adoptive sister saw nothing but sincerity and honesty. Unfortunately, Alex knew her better than Kara had imagined, because a moment later a wicked grin appeared on her face, and she flipped through the sketchbook, pausing when she reached the pages about halfway through, her eyes widening as she took in the drawings.

“This is so gross,” Alex finally commented, shutting the book and pushing it towards Kara. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gross.”

“It is. It’s sappy and sickly sweet and it’s just gross.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not gross—”

“—you drew pictures of your best friend like a sap, Kara. Puppies and Lena. That’s what you spend your time drawing.”

“I like puppies and I like Lena. Maybe if you were nicer, I’d draw you too.”

“And be subjected to that cavity inducing mess? No way.” She huffed, collapsing over Kara, arms and legs splayed wide and their position terribly uncomfortable—both because Kara felt crushed and because she was sure the way Alex had thrown herself over Kara couldn’t have been good for her back. “When are you going to do things I can hold over your head for years to come? I mean, besides the getting caught on the roof thing.”

“I do things!” Kara insisted, shoving Alex to the floor when her adoptive sister’s only response was to laugh uproariously at the lie. It proved to be less of a fib much later in the week, after she tossed her paints at Alex, learning through a call from Lena that Alex had torn out one of the drawings and gifted it to the Luthor.

Alex fondly dubbed it the ‘Paint Incident’ and she brought it up every chance she got.

x

“Wait. Wait,” Kara said, holding up a hand and staring at Lena in confusion. “You want to…break into the art room…why exactly?”

“Look, taking art was your fault in the first place, Kara,” Lena said, wringing her hands together and staring determinedly at the floor as she paced feverishly up and down the length of Kara’s bedroom. “You said things like ‘oh take it it’ll be fun, we’ll be in class together’ fat load of fun it’s been to fail—”

“—you’re failing art? I didn’t realize that was even a thing—”

“—so the very least you can do is help me break in to steal back my final piece so that I can fix it before Mrs. Grendson grades it,” Lena continued, ignoring Kara entirely and looking terribly pleased about that fact. She ceased her pacing and turned to Kara desperately, hands now clenched at her sides. “Please, Kara. I can’t fail. Especially not in art.”

Kara stared at her best friend, open-mouthed, trying to think of a response other than flat out laughing at the distress on Lena’s face, the certainty that Mrs. Grendson was capable of failing anyone, let alone a Luthor.

(Lex was long gone, making a name for himself in every corner of the scientific community, but their high school still thought fondly of him—and all the trophies and awards he brought for them.

Sometimes, Kara wondered if it was hard for Lena to grow up with Lex towering over her as he did, casting a rather large shadow.)

“How do you know if your redone work will be better? Apparently you’re terrible at art.”

At this, Lena smirked.

(It did funny things to Kara’s chest.)

“Because you’re going to do it for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me,” Lena murmured, stepping over to where Kara sat on her bed, advancing rather slowly.

(It made Kara feel like her heart was attempting to pound straight out of her chest.)

“I don’t know if that’s true…” Kara said weakly, trailing off when Lena’s smirk just widened and she was standing so close to Kara that her legs brushed Kara’s knees, the heat of her skin practically burning Kara.

“Please, Kara?”

(She wasn’t sure if it was the please, the proximity, the heavy pulse, or even the pathetic groan she hoped that Lena hadn’t heard, but it didn’t matter. One minute Lena was looking down at her, asking her to break nearly a dozen school rules—and Kara was rather generally fond of rules—and the next Kara was nodding dumbly, unable to say no.

Later she’ll think about this moment, the look in Lena’s eyes as she stared down at Kara, and it’ll give her hope.)

x

For the most part, Kara was remarkably good at pretending she was fine. It’d been a little over three years since she lost her entire family in one fell swoop, and it was easy to fake a smile, to push away the sadness that threatened to creep up and envelop her whole, to take each day as it came and never allow anything to bog her down for long. There was something…easy…about the way she lost her family. It was clean and quick, a surgical cut, and while the pain and emptiness remained, she knew she’d manage to heal somewhat—hobble on despite the scars, keep moving despite the ache that shadowed her every movement.

(She had Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah to lean on too, analgesics during a time she felt overwhelmed by pain, soothing her and calming her, turning the angry, red wound into a neat scar that served as a constant reminder, with a twinge of pain she came to expect on rainy days.

Lena only had her.)

Lionel Luthor’s death was slow and cruel. Lena’s cuts were jagged and deep, never quite given the chance to heal, left festering and infected, scar tissue never forming. There was nothing to soothe her, nothing to do to take away the pain, because each time she even drifted close to the process of beginning to heal, her father’s health began to deteriorate—or even worse, would improve, giving her hope only to have that hope come crashing down.

Lex disappeared on her, unable to witness the slow pace with which the illness took his father, and Lillian…Lillian was never much of a mother anyway, and hoping she’d offer comfort to a teenage girl was too much to ask.

Kara, who’d experienced loss and everything that entailed (the memories that kept her awake at night, the lingering anger at the unfairness of the universe, the regret that she’d never share her artwork with her parents, never excitedly tell them about her day or her passions or her love), wasn’t quite sure how to stitch Lena together. After all, when Kara lost everything, she found herself still loved and still cared for, sure that at the end of the day she could get a hug and a chance to forget her pain. But Lena? Lena had shattered and putting her back together was too big a task for Kara alone. She shied away from hugs, refused to accept comfort, and it took weeks before Kara realized the best she could do was merely offer her presence, the silent promise that she would stay—something solid and real and permanent amongst everything that had changed in Lena’s life.

Because after Lionel Luthor died, Kara learned that sometimes love just wasn’t enough to help people heal.

x

It was two weeks before graduation that Kara…figured it out.

(It being her feelings for Lena, the very feelings her mother and aunt understood before her, feelings she was rather sure Lionel understood before her, feelings Alex understood before Kara even bothered to put a name to them.)

Then again, ‘figuring it out’ was putting it simply, as if she woke up one morning and the knots tangled in her chest somehow unwound and realization came crashing down. It wasn’t like that at all, though. It was slow and arduous, a long time coming and yet somehow mysteriously shocking and life-changing.

She figured that the unraveling of that knot in her chest began with Lionel’s death, when her heart would hammer away in her chest just at the sight of Lena’s smile, which came rarely and disappeared quickly. Or maybe it was when they went to their senior prom together, neither quite willing to put up with boys wearing too much of their father’s cologne and ill-fitting suits. Maybe even it was when Lena held her hand as they laid together in her bed watching a movie Kara had picked out and Lena quietly confided that she didn’t think she was very much into boys at all.

(Most likely, however, it was on a playground in third grade, after threatening a boy she didn’t know and getting the most dazzling smile in reward, a smile Kara would swear shone brighter than any star she spent hours gazing at with Alex.)

It was two weeks before graduation and she felt so stupid for not seeing it before, for not paying more attention, for mistaking the flutter and the swoop and the sense of rightness with the same sort of love she felt for Alex or the boy in her chemistry class who always managed to make her laugh with his antics. She’d allowed herself to pretend, to overlook, to be blissfully ignorant, and all the while her heart had been busy breaking apart piece by piece and reforming somewhere in the palm of Lena’s hands.

She was in love with Lena Luthor. It was such a relief to think, like her lungs had finally managed to fill with air for the first time in her life—as if a weight she hadn’t even been aware of finally was lifted off her shoulders, giving her a chance to stand up straight and tall.

(Every smile that took her breath away, every touch that made her heart race, every comment that had her feeling warm suddenly made sense. And she felt so…blind. How could she have looked Lena in the eye and thought anything other than god I love you and mistaken the promises to always be there and always protect her for anything other than proud declarations of her feelings?

How had she spent ten years around Lena and not realized that she’d fallen head over heels for her best friend?)

It was two weeks before graduation and Lena was lounging on the couch, arguing with Alex over advances in biomedical engineering, the movie Alex had put on long forgotten. At first, Kara had been content to follow along silently, not adding to the debate even when Alex scoffed at Lena’s mentions of Lex’s work, but then her focus had shifted from the words to the way Lena waved her hands around as she tried to get her point across, the way her eyes lit up, the way she impatiently tossed her hair over one shoulder. It was the animation in her voice and the grin on her lips and goddid Kara love her.

As soon as she thought it, she panicked, jumping a little and sending popcorn toppling over the edge of her bowl and onto the ground.

(The thought came so easily, as if it’d always been there in the back of her mind, biding its time until Kara was too distracted or too tired to tack on the just a friend as she tended to do mechanically.

Because of course Kara knew she loved Lena—she just hadn’t been brave enough or smart enough or just old enough to realize all loves weren’t the same.)

“Kara?” Alex asked, staring at her oddly, one eyebrow raised, her argument with Lena forgotten for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Kara?” Lena prodded when Kara was silent a beat too long.

(And she was so beautiful. Kara wondered how she hadn’t noticed before—the smooth skin and dark hair and vivid eyes that seemed to change color—how she’d never been struck dumb when faced with Lena when she was least expecting it.)

“I—I’m fine. For a second I thought I forgot to do homework but then I realized hey! It’s graduation soon! What does it matter, right? Ignore me, honestly, I think it’s just that I haven’t been sleeping—”

“Up talking all night with Daniel again?” Alex asked with raised eyebrows, looking like she was about to approach Kara, about to attempt to needle information out of her, but Kara could only stare at Lena, watching as her best friend turned to look at the ground.  

(It’s not what it sounds like, Kara wanted to yell. She didn’t like Daniel—not like that. But he was helping her with Lena’s surprise for graduation, something that had taken longer than Kara had expected.

But Lena wasn’t meeting her eyes and Alex was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and oh this was bad time for a life-altering realization.)

“Daniel’s helping me with something,” Kara said quickly, getting to her feet and crossing her arms, not at all amused by the way Alex kept grinning. “Besides you know I don’t like him.”

Alex laughed, shaking her head.

“Um no,” she said, turning to Lena as if to ask for support, eyebrows furrowing just slightly when she noticed Lena’s pinched expression and downcast eyes, “you’ve been super secretive these past few weeks. What’re you up to?”

“Can we just watch the movie please?” Kara begged, and something must’ve shown on her face because Alex’s eyes shifted from Lena (who was still staring rather determinedly at the floor) to Kara and then back, her mouth falling open in shock or excitement or confusion—or maybe a little of all three.

“You know what, the movie sounds nice,” Alex murmured, shooting Kara a look that screamed they’d be spending that night talking on the roof like they did when Kara was first taken in by the Danvers and everything was still so raw.

(Kara thought to just tell Lena right after graduation, blurt out the truth just like ripping off a Band-Aid. But when the day finally arrived, Kara could barely breathe when she looked out into the sea of parents and suddenly found herself longing for her family, an ache that wasn’t made easier even though Alex was screaming in the stands and Eliza and Jeremiah were clapping as loudly as they could.

And if Kara was struggling, how did Lena feel when no one showed up for her at all?

So instead Kara shoved her feelings down and gave Lena the bracelet she’d gone to Daniel and his family for help to make, deciding then and there she could wait.

She just ended up waiting a little longer than she expected.)

x

She always found an excuse to remain silent, utterly convinced by the lies she told herself, the I’ll tell her tomorrow and the it’s not a good time and the she looks so busy right now.

She stayed silent the entire summer before they went off to college (“Come on, Alex,” she’d defended when Alex gave her knowing looks and made pointed comments, “she’s not even here, she’s on vacation in France with Lex”) and then bit her tongue during the first several months of their first semester, nodding and forcing a smile whenever Lena spoke of her first real girlfriend (“She’s beautiful, Kara, and so smart, god I could listen to her talk all day”), shamefully relieved the day she learned that long-distance had been too much to handle for the other girl. In fact, the first time Kara came even close to admitting the truth was their first Christmas away from home, the two of them deciding to spend it with Alex and a girl she’d only introduce as ‘Sawyer’ with a strange expression on her face.

She came close to admitting the truth when Lena brushed by her and whispered that it was so easy to tell when someone was in love, grinning over at Alex and winking playfully, and Kara wanted to ask, if it truly was so easy, why Lena still hadn’t been able to tell Kara was in love.

She didn’t of course.

Lena looked terribly busy as she chatted away with Maggie, a smile gracing her lips.

x

It took Alex and Maggie another month to get their shit together and admit their feelings.

A month after that they went on their first date.

Near the end of Kara’s freshman year Alex had rushed over to Kara’s dorm, gushing about how she just admitted she loved Maggie and how great it felt and how Kara had to tell Lena now, she just had to.

And Kara…well, she tried.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Kara said with a grin, just finishing off her story about Alex for Lena, the two of them laying out on the grass outside the building where they had their last exam. She leaned back, staring up at the blue sky, hands pillowed behind her head. “It’s romantic and sweet and just…new love. How beautiful.” She was about to say more, wax poetic about how happy Alex was, maybe segue into her own feelings if she felt an opening, but Lena snorted slightly and Kara found herself turning to her best friend, shocked to see the distaste coloring Lena’s expression. “What?” Kara asked, rolling her eyes a little. “Is this too saccharine for you?”

“No, I’m happy for Alex.” When Kara just raised an eyebrow in response, Lena sighed and elaborated. “I am happy for Alex. It’s just…come on, Kara. Let’s be real. Love doesn’t exist.”

(If there was anything that could break Kara’s heart, it was that.

And god it was said so easily, so terribly sure and matter of fact, and Kara didn’t know why it was so hard to breathe suddenly.)

“W-what do you mean? Love is real. You’re my best friend and I love you.” (This was the closest she’d ever get to admitting the depth of her feelings for another nine years.)

“That’s not the same,” Lena answered, pink dusting her cheeks suddenly, looking awfully interested in the grass. “Love is…it’s a series of chemical reactions. And it’s temporary and fleeting and finicky.”

(Temporary? Fleeting? That wasn’t Kara’s experience. She’d been in love since she was eight, before she could recognize it for what it was, before she knew the feeling had a name.

But if Lena was right, which she often was, did that mean what Kara felt wasn’t love, was something different, something stronger and more lasting?)

“Lena, you can’t mean that. Love is, you know, love. It’s why we’re here. It’s why anyone does anything. Even if you don’t feel romantic love—”

“I don’t mean I don’t feel it, Kara. I mean it doesn’t last.” She swallowed hard, clenched and unclenched her hands, turning to Kara warily. “Look, can we just talk about something else?”

“Well no, now we can’t, now I want to know why you’re so anti-love.”

Lena stared at her, expression hard and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, then she turned away. Kara didn’t think she’d answer until she did, Lena seeming more surprised by her honesty than Kara felt.

“Because I asked my mother if she loved my father,” Lena admitted in a soft voice. “And she said love had nothing to do with it.”

“Your mom isn’t exactly the picture of—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Kara. Okay? I’m happy for Alex. I hope things work out for her.”

Kara wanted to argue, but Lena’s shoulders were tense and she knew if she said one more word on the topic, Lena would up and leave. So she just sighed.

“So. About the writing class I want to take…when do you think you can fit it into your schedule?”

(She didn’t need Lena’s relieved smile to know she’d made the right choice.)

x

She met Mike through Winn at the end of her junior year, and she cursed him everyday for it.

“For the tenth time, no Mike, I don’t want to go out with you,” Kara hissed the moment Mike stepped into her space, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He looked surprised by her anger, which only served to piss her off more.

She came out to drink with her sister and friends, not spend an hour trying to shrug off Mike.

“Whoa, I wasn’t going to ask you out,” he defended, holding up his hands. He smiled at her and she hated—hated—that he seemed vaguely charming in that moment. Then he opened his mouth. “Look, I’m a prick. I know it. You know it. But I’m a prick that knows a lost cause when I see one. I give up.”

“It took you ten tries to realize it was a lost cause?” she huffed out sarcastically.

“Nope,” he told her, drawing out the pop. “It took meeting Lena Luthor once. So?”

“So what?”

“Ah, avoidance strategies. I know them well.” He grinned and motioned at the seat next to her, actually waiting until she made a vague sign that he could sit. “I know all about unrequited love Kara Danvers, and if that’s what’s holding you back, you shouldn’t worry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kara bit out, not at all in the mood to carry on a conversation anymore. Mike didn’t seem at all bothered by her annoyance. If anything, he seemed strangely…fond? Endeared at the very least, something that made Kara’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you already know,” he began, giving her a look and a wink when Kara couldn’t help but briefly glance at where she knew Lena was standing, deep in conversation with Winn about one of their classes. “But I do want to offer my help.”

“Your help? Why would I need your help?”

“I know a few things about love,” Mike said, wiggling his eyebrows and making Kara want to gag. “And I know for a fact that nothing makes you more attractive than when people think you’re…forbidden fruit, shall I say.”

“That sounds stupid,” Kara said flatly, rolling her eyes and refocusing on her drink. Mike, however, didn’t seem to recognize her body language as the dismissal it was.

“Trust me, Kara. Make her jealous, make her think she can’t have you, and she’ll be running right into the palm of your hands.”

“And let me guess, you volunteer to pretend to date me.”

Mike missed her deadpan.

“It would be my honor, Kara,” he said, aiming for gallant and charming but coming off as more than a little creepy.

Kara sighed, shifting in her seat to face Mike and motioning for him to lean closer.

“Mike,” she began slowly, watching as the beginnings of a smile formed on Mike’s lips, “that is absolutely, undeniably the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It also sounds predatory.” Her hands clenched and she knew her eyes had hardened because Mike’s smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look, as if he couldn’t understand her anger. “Lena’s my best friend, not some prey to be baited into dating me. So if you don’t mind, keep yourself and your lousy ideas away from me and Lena.” She gave him a harsh smile, watching in satisfaction as he nearly stumbled in his rush to get away.

It was only a minute later when Alex took the seat Mike had abandoned, a questioning look on her face.

“You look like you’re ready to punch someone,” Alex said cheerfully, attempting to defuse the tension, make Kara smile. It worked.

“He says he’s given up, that’s something.”

“Oh? Finally realized it was a lost cause?”

“Apparently Lena is too much competition for him.” It was the first time Kara ever tacitly admitted her feelings for Lena, the first time she acknowledged it aloud, and admitting it now to her sister felt a little like a rush of fresh air, clean and crisp and carefree. Alex smiled, thankfully not making a big deal of it, reaching out to squeeze Kara’s shoulder gently.

“Come on,” she said. “Maggie beat me once at pool and she’s become insufferable. You have to beat her, deflate a bit of that ego.”

“You can’t beat your own girlfriend?”

“Honestly? I think the competitiveness is cute. And she looks so happy.”

“But you want me to beat her?”

“If you do it, she won’t be upset with me.”

Kara stared at her sister for a moment, grateful and a little jealous all at once, then laughed, not for the first time, ridiculously glad for Alex Danvers.

x

Amongst their friends it was a well-known fact that Kara and Lena did not fight.

This was strange for several reasons. For one, not fighting did not mean there was any shortage of disagreements. In fact, Kara and Lena disagreed on a great deal (“No, Lena, you can’t just write off someone because of something he’s done in the past. People can change, they can choose to be better”) and were often seen in the middle of quiet, measured, and passionate debates (“I understand your position, Kara, but I can’t just ask my brother to give someone a job, it’s unethical and she’s not even in a STEM field”). For another, as their majors and hobbies and interests drew them further apart, it was always assumed that distance would crop up in their relationship, adding pressure to an already precarious situation (“Come on, Kara, how long are you just going to pine after Lena before you realize something’s got to give?”).

And yet they did not fight.

Their disagreements were just that: disagreements. More than once, Maggie commented on how easy it was for Lena and Kara to resolve their conflicts, talking through their issues within the hour it cropped up, nipping it in the bud expertly and efficiently.

(When Winn asked for their secret, Kara had laughed. “It’s simple,” she’d said, patting Winn on the shoulder. “There’s two rules: never lie and never allow issues to fester.”

“Kara, you make it sound like that’s easy,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. Lena, who was arguing with Maggie over the choice in wine—not quite willing to go another night with the cheap brand Maggie bought from the supermarket, ignoring Maggie’s protests that they all tasted the same anyway—took the time to grin over at Winn and Kara, shaking her head fondly.

“It’s not easy,” she’d informed Winn. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally worth it,” Kara had echoed, not hearing Maggie’s mumbled get a room.)

Thus, no one was more surprised by their fight the week before Christmas than Kara and Lena.

“What do you mean you go home for Christmas?” Kara demanded, arms crossed over her chest, unable to help the hitch in her voice.

(She was angry. Never lie, she’d told Winn, turning out to be a joke.

Except no, she was hurt, and she wasn’t used to that when it came to Lena, had never looked at her and thought, ouch.)

“Come on, Kara. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“—you’ve been going home these past two years, to your mom, and you’ve been telling me you spend Christmas with Lex. Why would you lie?” Kara’s interruption didn’t go over well. Rather than respond, Lena’s lips twisted, her eyes narrowed. Kara hadn’t seen her this displeased since she’d made a B in an inorganic chemistry class.

“I don’t have to discuss every single little thing I do with you, Kara,” she finally said, and by the way her eyes widened—the way she immediately stepped forward, as if to take what she said back—she regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

(Later, Kara will wonder why the comment felt like something piercing her between the ribs, why it felt like a blow to the middle, leaving her breathless and heaving for air. She’ll wonder why it hurt so much when logically she understood that Lena didn’t need to share every detail of her life—Kara certainly didn’t, hadn’t told Lena about that balloon of emotion in her chest every time she even looked at Lena.

Later, Kara will wonder if this was what being heartbroken felt like.)

“I see,” she muttered, raising her chin and stepping back when Lena looked like she was about to reach out. “You’re right.” (She was. After all, Kara hadn’t told Lena about her feelings, feelings she shoved away, torn between it never being the right time to confess and the certainty that a confession would only serve to break them apart.) “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Kara—”

But for the first time, Kara didn’t listen.

They didn’t talk again until they both returned to campus, at which point they both pretended the argument never happened.

(Never allow issues to fester, she’d told Winn.

Well that turned out to be a joke too.)

x

“As far as electives go, it’s not the worst,” Lena graciously conceded, attempting and failing to wink over at Kara from across the table. Alex—visiting for the weekend—snickered before pretending to choke on a potsticker when Kara glared at her. “I’ve actually learned a lot.”

“The humanities are boring, Luthor, admit it. You crave labs and the thrill of discovery and late nights with nothing but coffee, microscopes, and Jack’s suffocating cologne.”

(Kara turned her head, suddenly overly interested in the baseball game on the television, not wanting Lena—or worse, Alex—seeing her grimace.

Pfft Jack. He was…annoyingly decent and frustratingly kind. Jack was Jack and Kara didn’t question it when Lena said he’d asked her out on a date after long months spent working in the same lab, didn’t mention her late night confession back in high school, didn’t ask Lena if she was sure when she said she wanted to give him a chance.

Because Jack…he made Lena smile.)

“Go back to your formaldehyde soaked apartment, Alex,” Kara scoffed when she realized she’d been silent too long—long enough that Alex was looking at her knowingly and Lena seemed a little bit concerned. “Don’t you have slides to study?”

“I take a break from studying for you and this is how I’m treated?” Alex said in mock offense, leaning back exaggeratedly and placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll have you know, medical school is no joke.”

“Then go back, I’m sure all your professors are missing you,” Kara muttered, dragging her finger through the condensation that had gathered on her glass. She flicked the water over at Alex, narrowing her eyes when it just made her sister grin.

“You could’ve stuck with physics, you know. No one forced you to change your major.” Except, judging from Alex’s eyes and the uptick of her right eyebrow, that wasn’t what she was saying at all. It was more like you could tell Lena and put yourself out of your misery or maybe something like stop moping already and eat the last potsticker.

“I like my major,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair. And judging from Alex’s resigned expression, she’d read that to mean stop meddling in my life.

“I hate it when the two of you have your silent conversations,” Lena said suddenly, pulling Kara and Alex out of their stare off. “You’re not as sneaky as you like to think. There’s too much eyebrow wiggling and sighing.”

“You sound jealous, Luthor,” Alex said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Kara likes you too.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“—speaking of electives,” Kara interrupted, already tired of Lena and Alex’s faux arguing, a habit they’d formed since Alex went off to medical school and Lena asked Lex to push LuthorCorp towards investing more in biomedical engineering. “I have to go rewrite my story.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get that. Why are you rewriting your assignment?”

“Kara decided our professor was wrong in assigning the prompt in the first place. But with the threat of a failing grade looming over her head, she’s finally willing to see reason,” Lena explained, smiling over at Kara fondly, apparently terribly amused by Kara’s show of protest.

Alex, clearly deciding that today was the day she wanted to settle once and for all who knew Kara best, just raised an eyebrow and looked steadily at Kara.

“What was the prompt?” she asked softly, like she knew, without having any of the details, exactly what was twisting in Kara’s chest and why she was willing to nearly fail—why she’d rather fail.

“We’re supposed to write something that ends tragically. It’s supposed to be a homage to naturalism.”

“That’s not quite the prompt, Kara, you’re—”

“—so we weren’t supposed to have a unhappy ending for our characters?” Kara said, cutting Lena off more harshly than she intended. She turned away from Lena’s hurt expression and focused on Alex, unable to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Kara,” she said after a moment. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s not the point, Alex,” Kara said, arms crossed over her chest. She knew Alex was getting so much more from that one comment, reading in-between the lines and understanding just how deep it went.

“I know,” Alex said, and it broke Kara’s heart because Lena just seemed confused—when normally, she was the first to notice something was wrong.

x

James Olsen was…gosh, he was James Olsen.

He was kind and generous and brave and he dragged Clark right back into her life, and when he spoke Kara thought her knees would give way because gosh he was James Olsen.

He was sweet and passionate and could make her laugh with ease, and he was late for work the day they met because apparently she made the bestcoffee he’d ever had and he couldn’t believe his best friend’s cousin worked at the café down the street for nearly a month without his knowing.

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning as he tossed several twenties into the tip jar, much to the glee of Kara’s coworkers. “I’ll see you later, Kara,” he added and made it sound charming and not creepy like Kara was used to (because it was a question, a request, made confidently and kindly, with all the promise of respecting her wishes and boundaries).

(And Clark was grinning next to him, his eyes sad as he looked at her but the hint of a promise on his lips, a whisper of things changing as he murmured a quick and awkward goodbye.

Clark, who left her. Clark, who was back again thanks to James Olsen.)

James Olsen…James Olsen made her heart flutter, made her stomach fill with butterflies, made her feel heard and respected and important. He took her around Metropolis, on his daily attempts to snap a quick picture of whatever caught his interest, telling her all about what it was like working with Clark and Lois and Perry White—telling her about the Daily Planet and finding a home behind the lens of his camera. He spoke of his father, of his admiration for all those who gave everything to help others, his hope that one day he could do the same.

And Kara…she told him about Alex, about missing Clark sometimes even if she was still furious that he left her behind, she told him about her parents and the lab her father worked in, the cases her mother poured over at nights pausing long enough only to make sure to tuck her in. She told him about how she’d wanted to follow her parents’ footsteps, wanted to help people, wanted to do something important with her life.

She told him about her Aunt Astra—how she wanted to see her again, wanted to find out why she did what she did, if she regretted her actions, if she felt guilty that she ruined Kara’s life.

She told him about Eliza and Jeremiah and how much she loved them.

She told him about moving to Metropolis and how she’d imagined it would be the next big adventure, that coming here would change everything—help her find her place.

She did not tell him about Lena.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that Lena had a permanent place next to Alex in her heart, couldn’t tell James that Lena was a constant before and after her parents—a grounding point, an anchor. She couldn’t confess that Lena held her hand throughout all her anger at Clark, all her mixed feelings over her Aunt Astra, didn’t even know how to say that Lena was her family as much as Eliza and Jeremiah.

She didn’t even say that the move to Metropolis was for Lena, for them to remain together in some way even while she was off rising in the ranks in her brother’s company. She…she couldn’t even begin to verbalize what it felt like to watch Lena slip away, for their daily lunches and texts to dwindle down to nothing in weeks, for Kara to hear Lena apologetically say she just didn’t have the time to come to game night, even if Alex had gone out of her way to visit.

Kara told James about every big thing in her life, but she couldn’t talk about the biggest, and when she kissed him for the first time—the night he brought her Chinese and ice cream to cheer her up after she’d texted him to say that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet like she wanted—she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be right if she fell for him because she was rather sure Lena’s shadow would always hang over her.

But James was James, and when he kissed her back, she fell anyway.

x

It took months before Lena met James.

(It wasn’t weird that her best friend didn’t seem all that interested in meeting her boyfriend. It wasn’t strange that Winn took more interest in her love life than Lena, her best friend. It didn’t bother Kara at all that Alex flew in and spent a day with Kara and James before Lena even acknowledged that Kara had a boyfriend.

She was busy. Kara understood.)

Her tiny apartment—that she was barely able to afford with her meager salary from the café and the few random freelance articles she’d written—was full to the brim with only a handful of people. James was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard, chatting with Winn as he did so, discussing an article Clark had written with Lois. Lena and Alex were on the couch, arguing over bioethics concerns coupled with the rapid advancement in medicine. Kara leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment, smiling at Alex’s impassioned speech for more regulation as well as Lena’s counterpoints that innovation could never be curbed.

It was nice, this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to witness Lena and Alex’s arguing, both of them throwing around words that eventually went over Kara’s head—even if she’d studied the sciences in college. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to see Lena’s wide smile.

Kara stiffened at the thought, at the longing she felt, and with a guilty glance back at James, she shuffled over to the window, opening it as far as it would go, and climbing through it, dropping down onto the metal fire escape. The cool night air calmed her somewhat, but not as much as the sounds of honking cars and indecipherable voices, the rattle of a train somewhere in the distance, the sound of music coming from one of the lower apartments.

“Oh, there you are,” James said, sticking his head out of the window and smiling. It was charming and cute and he was so perfect for her. She loved him so much. “I was wondering where you went off to, and there aren’t a lot of hiding placing in your apartment.” He smiled wider at his little joke, joining her on the fire escape, looking down at her like he always did: like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And Kara wondered if she was somehow broken, because she deserved this, she did. She deserved someone who would always be with her and always take her needs and wants into account. And yet…yet all she could think about was how James deserved better than her—that he offered more than she ever could, and she’d dragged him far enough behind her for it to be cruel and wrong.

“James, I—” She stopped when he shook his head, still smiling and still looking at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen, even as his eyes filled with understanding and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

“It’s Lena, isn’t it?” he asked, no real bitterness in his tone, just quiet acceptance. “I guessed, you know? From the start,” he explained, chuckling mirthlessly at her look of shock, leaning against the railing and turning to look up at the sky. “You avoided talking about her so much I knew you either hated her or loved her, and I don’t think you’re capable of hate. But I was sure when I saw you look at her tonight.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kara said haltingly, wanting to hug James or lean into his warmth or use his shoulder to steady herself, knowing that none of those things were appropriate anymore. “I thought I just needed—I thought if I…I don’t know what I thought.” She was quiet for a moment, choosing to look through the window and watch Winn join Alex and Lena’s debate, Winn saying something that made them all laugh. “Is it really so obvious?”

“For someone who’s looking for it? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” James told her, knocking his shoulder lightly with hers, prompting her to look at him. “You know, she feels the same way.”

No, Kara didn’t know, barely considered the possibility. But her heart thumped at the very thought.

“Even if she did, she’s…I don’t think she has the time for a relationship.”

“She’s your best friend, Kara,” James said, accepting her point easily. “If anyone knows her it’s you.”

She nodded, but boy, Kara didn’t think that was true anymore.

“Do you think that job in National City is still open?” she asked suddenly, avoiding his eyes when she noticed concern begin to flood his features.

“Kara,” he began, “I don’t know if running away is the answer.”

“It’s not running away. I’m—I thought I’d find something here. I thought being closer to Clark, being in Metropolis would help me find what I’m looking for. But it wasn’t. And Alex is in National City,” she tacked on at the end, as if it would settle the issue. In many ways it did though, and James knew it.

“It’s still running away,” he told her softly, not really arguing but just pointing out a truth. “If she’s your best friend, what are you so afraid of?”

(And oh leave it to James to get to the heart of the issue, to look at her and understand and not let her get away with deflections and excuses like Alex tended to. She was afraid. Of what, Kara wasn’t quite sure. Maybe that Lena wouldn’t feel the same way. Maybe that it would change something between them. Maybe that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Lena’s flimsy presence in her life would disappear entirely.

Maybe it was just that every time Kara wanted to confess, she thought about how Lena didn’t believe in love at all and it broke her heart.)

“Are you upset with me?” Kara asked weakly instead of answering James, and though he gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was doing, he indulged her anyway.

“No,” he answered, having paused long enough that Kara knew he’d put real thought into it, had searched his feelings for any hint of anger or bitterness, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice when he found none. “No, I knew what I was getting into, even if I hoped I was wrong. So it’s not like you led me on or anything.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving her off, his voice slightly gruff—like he was holding back some sort of emotion. “Can I just—would it be weird to ask one thing?” When she shook her head, James cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “If you met me before her, if you’d never met her at all—” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a firm shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a moment. “What ifs don’t matter.”

Kara studied him sadly, from the stiffness of his shoulders to the fixed smile on his lips, and she felt something in her break.

“Can we—can we just stay out here for a while?” she asked in a low voice, knowing that returning inside would make this all real, all permanent, would mean that there would never be any going back. And James—soft, kind, generous, and gentle—gave her a real smile before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the nip of the night air, his presence as sturdy and strong as ever.

“However long you need, Kara,” he whispered into her hair.

And they stayed out there for what felt like ages before Alex came to collect them, brows furrowed and expression concerned.

x

She was still on her phone as she sat down across from Kara at the café she’d chosen—a fancy place Kara normally would never have stepped in under her own volition—but before Kara had the chance to feel annoyed, she shoved the phone away and smiled brilliantly at her, and things were fine again.

Until she spoke, at least.

“Kara! It’s been so long, I am so sorry, things at work just got—”

“I know, Lena. Lex put you in charge of R&D, that’s huge.”

(She tried not to sound bitter, but she was rather sure she mostly failed because Lena was looking at her oddly, hurt at Kara’s tone. But the thing was, Kara was furious. She only found out about Lena’s promotion through Clark and an article he’d written about LuthorCorp. Even worse, when he’d asked if she could get into contact with Lena and see if she would be willing to sit down for an interview—something that might’ve made Perry White see reason and give her another chance for an entry-level job at the Daily Planet—she’d gotten nothing in reply. Not even a text back.

She remembered a time when they couldn’t go two days without talking. Now they were going months without a single word between them.)

“Kara, are you—”

“I have news of my own,” Kara interrupted, smiling wide and knowing it likely seemed forced, knowing because it felt forced. “It’s why I was so insistent we get coffee.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, giving Kara that smirk she loved so much. “Did you get that job at the Tribune you wanted?”

Kara blinked.

“No. No, they turned me down nearly a year ago.” It had been one of the first jobs she’d applied to upon arriving at Metropolis. And though she’d thought Lena had been the one to bring her potstickers to cheer her up, she now realized that had been Clark and Lois, the two of them cheerfully tearing down everyone at the Tribune just to make her laugh.

(Had she just inserted Lena into her memory? Imagined her there to offer comfort because Lena had always been there before? Was she sick? She was rather sure there was an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy devoted to Izzie seeing things.)

“Oh,” Lena muttered, looking as shocked as Kara felt.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara hastened to say, both not liking the look on Lena’s face or the dark path her thoughts were winding down.

“Isn’t it though? The next thing you’ll tell me is you married James.”

She was going for a joke, Kara knew that. But boy, did the comment hit her like a truck. For a moment, she could barely breathe.

“Actually,” she struggled to say, “we broke up a few months ago.”

“Kara,” Lena said, eyes now so wide that it was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara let out a loud and undignified laugh, but it was better than letting out the sob that threatened to break free.

“Alex said she thought you weren’t listening to your voicemails. Guess she was right.”

“I-I’ve been in the lab,” Lena stuttered through her shock. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been—Kara, I’m so—”

“It’s fine,” Kara stressed, waving off Lena’s pleas and smiling at her. “That’s not why I asked you to coffee either. You see, I did get a better job—”

“—that’s amazing, Kara, I had every confidence you would, you’ll make a wonderful reporter—”

“—as Cat Grant’s personal assistant,” Kara finished, speaking over Lena.

“Sorry, what?”

“Apparently Ms. Grant has gone through four assistants in four months. Clark and James think that if I can hold the job for a few years, I could move up. Get a job as a writer for Ms. Grant’s magazine.”

“That’s hardly hard-hitting journalism, Kara, it’s not what you wanted—”

“—no, but I have to be realistic. Perry White was never going to give me a job. CatCo might.”

“It’s in National City,” Lena pointed out suddenly, as if this would put an end to whatever argument they were having.

“I know. That was my second bit of news, actually.” She paused for effect. “I’m moving!”

Lena didn’t look as thrilled as Kara hoped she’d be.

“You’re what? When?”

“I’m moving,” Kara repeated, checking her watch surreptitiously. “Alex and I are making a road trip out of it. She flew in last night and we’re leaving in a few hours. She likes to drive at night.”

“You’re leaving? Tonight?” She looked hurt by that and Kara felt guilty for only a moment before her anger and frustration returned. (Never lie, never let issues fester—that was how they managed to never fight, for their arguments to get settled quickly and efficiently, without much hurt on either side. But Lena was lying and Kara was allowing issues to fester and she was rather sure the resulting implosion was inevitable. Needed, even.) “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why don’t you ever call me back?” Kara returned flatly, getting to her feet. “You’re my best friend, Lena. You always will be. But I’m unhappy here, moving to National City is a good choice for me.”

(It felt like they were breaking up. But that was ridiculous. They hadn’t been dating in the first place.

She idly wondered why no one had ever mentioned that losing your best friend hurt worse than losing a boyfriend.

She idly wondered if her position was unique because she was losing Lena.)

Lena got to her feet as well, and for a glorious moment Kara imagined a scenario in which Lena kissed her senseless, in which she grabbed Kara’s hands and fought to make her stay, in which she swore she’d stop being so distant, so faraway even in the moments they were together. But the moment passed quickly and Kara crashed down to reality when Lena only offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t lose touch, okay?” Lena said, playing with her watch and staring at the table. She made an awkward movement, almost like she wanted to pull Kara into a hug, but stopped halfway and just remained motionless. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t just so sad.

Kara ignored the question, gathered all her courage, and placed a soft and brief kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“Bye, Lena.”

(Lena didn’t chase her down as she left the coffee shop, didn’t find her huddled in an alleyway, wiping her cheeks furiously, didn’t even come by hours later, as Kara found every excuse to delay their trip National City and Alex continued to give her pitying looks.

And by the time they were on the highway, Kara staring out her window without speaking, that goodbye felt rather permanent.)

x

She rather thought that National City was good for the soul.

It was sunny in National City, the people seemed livelier, kinder, warmer. And even if Cat Grant was in one of her terrible moods—which she was in at least once a day, usually because someone from photography and layout had messed something up—Kara could always count on sticky buns from Noonan’s to cheer her right up. (Not Cat, obviously. Cat wouldn’t touch one of those buns with a ten-foot pole. No, the sweet was for Kara.)

She had Sister Night in National City, a job she usually adored and a goal she was determined to reach, an apartment she loved, and wonderful new friends.

Kara was happy.

Really.

“Kara, I’m watching that. Stop changing the channel.”

“Why do you need to watch the news, don’t you get enough of it from Maggie?”

(Another thing National City had? A chance for Kara to witness her sister’s happiness. She’d broken things off with Maggie sometime during medical school, but had run into the newly minted detective and things had apparently just…worked out. Alex was smiling all the time, and it was beautiful.)

“Just because you avoid everything that has to do with Lena—”

“—I don’t do that,” Kara denied, shaking her head quickly and vehemently.

“—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do my research so that I can destroy her when she visits. She’s got to know her brother’s company does more harm than good.”

“Do you talk to her?” Kara found herself asking despite herself. It was stupid. She knew it would just hurt if Alex said yes and bum her out if Alex said no. It was a no-win situation and she hated herself for it.

“Only when she visits. And you know she always wants to see you too, but you keep acting surly.”

“Sorry if I expect my best friend to care about me more often than only when she’s in National City to oversee something at a branch of LuthorCorp.”

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Alex said happily, turning the television off once she noticed Kara’s grimace. “She’s your best friend.”

“She didn’t come after me.”

“You know she can’t run in heels,” Alex joked, and Kara struggled to keep her impassive expression, “that’s not her fault.”

“She hasn’t tried reaching out.”

“Because you’ve shut her out,” Alex countered, referring to the almost weekly trips Lena made to National City the first month after Kara moved. Each time, Kara had said she was busy with work and couldn’t get away, and Lena would leave with only a text goodbye.

And then those had stopped too, the visits. The calls and the texts became rare enough that it was almost as if they had stopped.

At times, Kara thought if it weren’t for the occasional press conferences Lena gave in her brother’s place, she wouldn’t have even known Lena was healthy and happy.

“Come on, Kara,” Alex continued, “you’re older than her, you’ve got to be the mature one.”

“I’m only older by three months!” Kara huffed, throwing herself onto the couch and staring hard at the ceiling. “Besides, distance is good. Great, even. More than necessary. We were too dependent on each other.”

“Right, and my hair is green,” Alex deadpanned, leaning over Kara and shaking her hair in Kara’s face, as if to show off her auburn locks. “For two smart people, you’re both being really stupid.”

“You’re being really mean. Like Ms. Grant mean, and that’s just sad, Alex.”

“Shut up and move over, if you’re not going to let me watch the news, you might as well put on a movie.”

Kara did as she was told, only half-heartedly listening to Alex’s running commentary on the film she’d put on, finally breaking after half an hour—much to Alex’s very obvious amusement.

“I miss her,” Kara admitted in a soft voice.

Alex’s expression fell, and she pulled Kara into a hug.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Have you tried drawing her and puppies to feel better?”

“No ice cream for you,” Kara muttered while Alex apologized for her joke, but she was hiding a smile in Alex’s shoulder, so she supposed her sister wasn’t very sorry at all.  

x

She’d begun to think something might be wrong when the name ‘Luthor’ appeared in the news more often than normal.

The family was always in some way making news. Whether it was funding research for a cure to a rare disease or a shady business deal with a foreign company, LuthorCorp and by extension the three Luthors in charge, was consistently in the public eye. It wasn’t always good, but it was never obviously bad, either.

Until, however, Lex seemed to go off the rails entirely.

It started slow, slow enough that at first Kara didn’t even notice in between watching news clips while waiting for Ms. Grant’s coffee. There was an odd article about abnormal contracts with weapon manufacturers. Then, there was a report or two about odd—if not outright strange—transactions with certain individuals that any wise businessman wouldn’t touch.

About a year after Kara moved to National City, the Daily Planet published an explosive article that LuthorCorp was secretly funding a weapon production program and selling said weapons to various third parties.

Six months after that, Lex was arrested on a vast array of charges, Lillian Luthor stepped away from the company, and Lena was named CEO and took on the brunt of the backlash as LuthorCorp basically went up in flames.

And for the first time in about eight months, Kara heard from Lena:

Clark did all the legwork for the article.

And well, Kara was quite familiar with the sensation of her family members destroying things she loved, and it didn’t come as a shock at all.

x

Kara eyed her new office apprehensively, leaning against the far wall and staring at her empty desk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was thrilled, she was, she’d been eyeing a job like this since she arrived in National City, but now that she had it….

It was a little anticlimactic. She’d called Alex and her sister had been appropriately overjoyed for her, as were Eliza and Jeremiah, and yet something felt missing. Something felt wrong.

(She stared at her phone, at the news notifications about LuthorCorp’s move to National City and their planned rebranding, and she tried to pretend that had nothing to do with how she felt at this moment.

She tried and she failed.)

“Ready for lunch?” Alex asked from behind her, eyes kindly averted, choosing to stare at her nails instead of the look of panic that quickly took over Kara’s expression when she continued scrolling through the articles and stopped at what must have been the most recent photo of Lena, looked ragged and annoyed as she shoved her way past reporters to get into her building here in National City.

The caption below the photo wasn’t flattering.

“Have you seen her yet?” Kara asked, knowing Maggie was waiting for them at some vegan restaurant, wanting to celebrate Kara’s promotion. Alex continued to stare at her nails and Kara continued to think that was rather kind of her.

“Why? Will my answer change what you plan on doing?”

“What do you think I’m planning on doing?”

“Honestly?” Alex asked, finally looking up and eyeing Kara critically. “I think you’re going to keep pretending you’re not missing her.” She hooked her arm through Kara’s and dragged her out of the empty office, pulling her towards the elevators. “When you wanted to leave Metropolis, I was glad. I hated seeing you waste your life away in a coffee shop just because you wanted to be near Lena.” As the elevator doors slid shut, Alex leaned heavily into Kara’s side, head resting on her shoulder. “You were right. You did need to learn to live your own separate life from Lena, but now that you have, just go see your best friend. She needs you.”

“What about the vegan restaurant? Maggie is waiting,” Kara protested, resisting weakly when Alex tugged her into CatCo’s lobby and then out into the street. “We were going to celebrate.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to miss out on this restaurant,” Alex said with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, a halfhearted attempt to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. “Go home, Kara. Think about what you’re planning. Then go see Lena.” Then, without giving Kara a chance to argue, Alex shoved her lightly in the direction of her apartment and then turned on her heel, walking briskly away in the opposite direction.

And Kara went home, fully intending to drown all her doubts and sorrows in a pint (or two) of ice cream.

Or at least, what was what she intended. She never really got the chance; by the time she’d changed into her comfort pajamas, a thick blanket thrown over her shoulders, and was digging through her freezer for that ‘rainy day’ ice cream, there was a knock on her door. Grumbling and annoyed, because of course Alex wouldn’t trust her enough to believe she would actually listen to her sister’s advice (for good reason, she supposed, considering her current state), Kara practically stalked towards her door, throwing it open with more force than necessary, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Alex, you need to let me have my night to mope, can’t your lecture wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” said someone with a voice that decidedly didn’t belong to Alex. “It’s a bad time, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.”

Kara’s eyes flew open, and before her visitor had the chance to step back, Kara had reached out for a hug—it was instinct, it was habit, it was just what she did. And when she got her hug back, mismatched edges seemed to finally slot into place, and Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“It’s always a good time for you,” Kara said into Lena’s ear, unable to help her wide grin.

x

“Come on, Lena. Feel the burn! Enjoy the burn! If it hurts, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kara called over to Lena, watching her struggle with mild amusement. She’d suggested morning jogs as a joke initially, but Lena had taken to the idea with surprising eagerness, something Kara was rather sure she regretted now, in between all the heaving breaths and the sweaty hair. She wondered if Lena still thought it was a good way for them to rebuild their friendship.

“I…can’t…believe…” Lena managed to say between gasps, bending over with her hands on her knees and head practically in her chest. “…people…do this for…fun.”

“I could carry you on the way back if you like.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kara,” Lena said, looking over at her with narrowed eyes. “You killed me. I’m dead. Say goodbye to the last sane Luthor, please don’t let my obituary be too embarrassing.” She straightened as she spoke, stretching out her back and arms and Kara was a little bit distracted to immediately respond.

“Don’t say that,” she finally found the voice to admonish. “Of course your obituary will be embarrassing. I’ll write about the time we snuck into the art room to fix an assignment you’d already made a perfect on.”

“I didn’t know it’d already been graded, Kara,” Lena said, not looking particularly glad that this had been brought up. Kara wondered if she remembered the way they’d giggled as they escaped the school building, tangling pinkies and swearing they’d never bring it up again. “It was ugly, what sort of person gives perfect marks on something so ugly?”

“Well, I thought you were adorable,” Kara said without thinking, grimacing as she registered her own words, “I mean—not adorable, but um, adorably criminal.”

“It was my Luthor genes shining through,” Lena joked, winking when Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, you don’t have to go so slow because of me,” she added when Kara jogged in place, staring out into the park—looking at the couple walking their dog and the old woman sitting on a bench reading the newspaper. Kara laughed, listening to Lena’s heavy breathing, and shook her head.

“Oh shucks, look at that, my shoes are untied,” Kara said in mock surprise, leaning down and untying her shoelaces before taking her time to tie them up again. She took extra care in making sure everything was tight, going as far as to untie and retie her right shoe—just in case. And when she looked back up, Lena was staring at her with a mix of fondness and confusion.

“Back in Metropolis,” she began.

“Lena, I don’t—”

“—I avoided you. I wasn’t working all the time, I could’ve seen you more often but I…” she trailed off, frowning. “And I didn’t realize how much that could hurt until you avoided me. When you left. And I’m sorry.”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Lena blinked, looking like she hadn’t expected the question, but surely she should have. She’d brought it up, she made it a point to apologize. Of course Kara would want more explanation.

“How about a race?” Lena suggested, ignoring Kara’s question completely. “First one to the gate gets to choose breakfast?”

Kara’s grin was her only reply.

(Needless to say, she won the race. They ended up with sticky buns and coffee from Noonan’s, Kara regaling Lena with horror stories about needing pick-me-ups at all hours, depending on Cat Grant’s mood.

And the entire time her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering what would make Lena avoid her in the first place.)

x

“You know,” Lena said in between mouthfuls of pizza, “I never thought I’d say this, but reporters aren’t so bad.” She took a sip of her wine—the charm and sophistication of the action lost on Kara as Lena was drinking her wine out of a plastic cup—and smiled benignly. “There’s even one reporter I’d go as far as to say I like.”

“Oh really? Let me guess. She’s a dazzling cub reporter at CatCo. Golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, impeccable fashion taste?” Kara asked, grinning and pointing at herself exaggeratedly, not quite appreciating Alex’s snort or Maggie’s not-so-subtle shake of her head. She opened her mouth to tell off her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, but before she could, Lena smiled softly and derailed all of Kara’s thought processes.

“Well, I was going to say Lois Lane, but yes, you’re a close second.”

“A—a close second? To Lois?” Kara spluttered indignantly, mouth falling open in offense. “Was she the one to write stories about the phoenix-like rebirth of L-Corp and the CEO that spearheaded its rise? No. That was me. All me.”

“But that corruption article—” Lena said, not even bothering to hide her laughter as Kara stared at her in betrayal. “I’m joking,” she said when Kara went as far as to push her plate of pizza away, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Alex snorted again. “Your articles are wonderful, I’m so grateful for them, Kara.”

“I didn’t write them as a favor,” Kara mumbled, turning her head and glaring at Alex, daring her to let out another snort. “I wrote them because it’s the truth. You rebuilt LuthorCorp from the ground up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Ugh,” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Maggie, that’s our cue to leave. They’re going to be gross again. Compliments thrown back and forth, no you hang up first,” she tacked on in an affected voice.

“You don’t give me any compliments,” Maggie said, almost petulantly, while Kara found herself unable to do much more than open and close her mouth repeatedly, no response ready on her lips.

“Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. It’s their foreplay.” Alex grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her out of the apartment, leaving Kara and Lena alone at the table.

“So,” Lena said, sipping calmly from her plastic cup of wine, “when do you think Alex will remember this is her apartment?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to steal all her vinyls.” She paused her plotting and stared at Lena thoughtfully. “Is Lois really your favorite reporter?”

“Of course not,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand, as charming, clever, and confident at twenty-eight as she’d been at eight years old, merely amplified by the years that had passed, still managing to leave Kara in awe with nothing but a smile. “You’re always my favorite, Kara. In everything.” The words brought her heart to a thudding stop. Her eyes were fixed on Lena’s lips.

(She was going to do it. She was going to stand and lean in, she was going to settle that voice in her head and that thrumming in her chest once and for all. She would know, know for sure how Lena felt, all she had to do was be brave in this single moment—gather all her courage and ask onesimple question, hope to whatever was out there that Lena would nod, would say yes, would dispel of words entirely and close the distance between them.

She was going to do it, she was going to do it.)

The door swung back open and Kara was rooted to her seat.

“Can you believe Alex forgot this was her apartment?” Maggie laughed as she approached the table, frowning as she took in Kara’s face and then Lena’s. “Are you two okay? You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“F-fine,” Kara stammered, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s lips and forcing a smile. “I just said I was going to steal all of Alex’s vinyls.”

“I heard that!” Alex called from the door, letting it swing shut behind her. “But you know, if you do manage to pull it off, it might even outdo the roof thing. But nothing can top the Paint Incident,” she tacked on dreamily.

Maggie and Lena laughed, familiar with both stories, and Kara sighed, unable to help it when her gaze flicked briefly over to Lena.

She felt her courage fade, felt the moment slip past her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but sigh. But when she did, it wasn’t Alex who looked at her quizzically and in worry. She was too busy rolling her eyes at something Maggie was saying. Instead, it was Lena who looked at her in concern, eyes wide and pleading—wordlessly asking if she was okay, back in sync for the first time in years.

(At the very thought, Kara felt much of that courage race right back.)

x

It was very late or very early, Kara wasn’t quite sure which, and she and Lena were lounging on the couch in Lena’s office, leaning heavily on each other, Lena’s work long forgotten. It’d been quite some time that they’d had nights (mornings?) like this, Lena calling her because she felt her world spiraling, and Kara the only one who could stop the spinning for even a moment. Sometimes there were tears, more often there was total silence, Lena tightly grasping her hand until Kara couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

This morning (last night?), Lena had just buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, not saying a word for hours as Kara rubbed her back and muttered nonsense under her breath just hoping to ease whatever Lena was dealing with this time.

“Do you remember Jack?” Lena asked suddenly, bringing up her ill-fated whirlwind romance from their last year in college without prompting. Kara nodded hesitantly, wincing a little internally as she thought about all the anger she’d directed towards such a perfectly decent guy, wondering if she should call him up one day and apologize—admit she’d been jealous and she’d really had nothing against him. Then again, to admit that to Jack would mean she’d first have to admit those feelings to Lena, and she wasn’t quite sure if that would ever happen—at least, if her track record was any indication. “I really wanted things to work out with him. Thought if I could focus on him and my studies, I could forget about everything else.”

Kara’s breath hitched and she swallowed hard. Admittedly, it hurt to hear Lena say something like that. Because around that same time, Kara was feeling lost, had needed her best friend, and had been left unmoored and aimlessly floating away from shore in Lena’s absence. It hurt to hear that Lena’s distance had been intentional.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to ask why?”

“Would you answer?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted softly, tucking her head more comfortably under Kara’s chin.

“Why did you lie about where you were going for Christmas?” Kara asked instead, voice barely a whisper, unsure even now if she should bring it up. Lena stiffened slightly, then inhaled deeply, relaxing just as suddenly.

“My mother told me she wanted to make up, start over. She told me she knew she strained our relationship and wanted to fix it.”

“Did she?”

“No. As it turned out, she just wanted me to spy on Lex for her.” Lena cleared her throat and pulled away from Kara, shifting so that she was sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Besides, after working at LuthorCorp for a few months after graduation, it was obvious Lex was up to something, and it was obvious she was trying to hide his mess for him. She was just trying to use me as a pawn—I was disposable, you see.”

“You’re not disposable,” Kara immediately argued, not sure if she liked the way Lena laughed in response—like she found the comment inherently flawed, but couldn’t bring herself to explain just how wrong Kara was.

“I’m not sad, Kara,” Lena explained gently, shrugging when Kara looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not.” She shrugged again, seemingly not caring that Kara had been rendered speechless. “I’ve known what my mother is my whole life.” Her head tilted to the side, and she studied Kara so intently for a moment that Kara was sure she was reading every single secret Kara had buried away deep in her heart for safekeeping. “But then you just waltzed in one afternoon and forced my dad to take a stand.” She reached out and took Kara’s hand, squeezing tightly, eyes showing no hint of melancholy. And it was a beautiful sight. “I’m not sad, because whatever my mom has done, I’ve always known I had you.” She smiled then, something changing in her expression, something Kara sometimes saw in her own reflection. “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just…me.”

“You’re my hero,” Lena said, grinning when Kara gave her another disbelieving look, finding it difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart, though she was giving it a valiant attempt. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Metropolis?”

(And oh Kara felt her courage fail her at this critical moment. She felt it escape her in a flood, a mass exodus of bravery in the face of such overwhelmingly terrifying prospects. Because an admission could lead to reciprocation. It could lead to a moment she’d imagined again and again and again. Or it could lead to horrifying and awkward rejection, a friendship she treasured and missed dearly when it was out of reach—when it felt shattered beyond repair—becoming lost forever.

And oh Kara stared at Lena and she found she’d brave any enemy, any storm, any short, grubby, sniffling bully if only it meant she’d have a chance to keep Lena in her life.)

“It’s hard to get over someone when they’re in the same city as you,” she found herself saying, a non-answer that she thought said entirely too much. (Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“You and James were really good for each other,” Lena nodded, and it was the way she looked at the ground, the way she released Kara’s hand, the way she swallowed, the way her eyes grew sad that Kara finally, finally, saw what Alex had seen, what James had seen, what even gross Mike had seen. “It makes sense that he’s hard to get over,” Lena added, a pinched expression on her face, one that Kara caught even if most of Lena head was turned away.

(Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“Actually, Lena,” Kara began slowly, heart racing, “I wasn’t talking about James.” Lena turned to her in shock, eyes wide, and of course Kara began to ramble, stomach swooping up and down and feeling as if the blood rushing through her veins was on fire. “He was wonderful. He is wonderful, I mean. But he’s not wonderful for me. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s perfect. But it’s really hard to love someone the right way when you’re in love with someone else and I—”

“I was jealous of James!” Lena blurted, apparently quite surprised by her own interruption. “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to hear about him. I’d be jealous of anyone you were with. So I avoided you, because I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know if I could hide how I felt—”

“—I hated Jack,” Kara confessed. “And that girl from France, the one you met before we started college, I hated her on principle, and James told me I’m not capable of hate, but they had you and I hated them and—”

Lena interrupted her again, this time by grabbing her face and pulling her forward, her lips on Kara’s making it quite difficult to talk at all. It was awkward and needy and full of a pent-up sort of want and it made Kara’s head spin, it fried all her nerves, it left her permanently incapable of any sort of rational thought. Because Lena—her best friend, Lena—was kissing her.

“Wait, wait,” Kara said suddenly, pulling away from Lena’s kisses, unable to help her smile at Lena’s groan, “so are you anti-love?” Lena’s eyes, which had been closed, opened lazily, and she blinked at Kara in confusion, seemingly unsure what they were talking about. “You said you didn’t believe in love,” Kara elaborated, feeling her ears heat up because as far as she knew, she’d admitted she loved Lena, but Lena had just admitted feelings, and what if she was making a fool of herself, reading too much into one kiss—even if said kiss was as singularly mind-blowing as Lena’s?

“I was nineteen,” Lena admitted softly, and she reached out with a hesitant hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Kara’s face and then cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing idle patterns into her skin. Kara felt rather than directed her eyes to flutter shut, felt rather than directed her head to lean into Lena’s hand. “I was bitter because I’d fallen for my best friend and I didn’t think she’d ever feel the same way.”

“So not temporary and finicky?”

“Not in my experience, no.”

“You know, if you hadn’t said that, if you’d just waited ten seconds, I was going to tell you how I felt that day.”

Lena didn’t answer for so long that Kara opened her eyes, only to be met with impossibly soft eyes.

“That’s okay,” Lena said finally, leaning forward to press her forehead against Kara’s. “I sort of like how our story ended up anyway.” And when Lena closed the last of the distance between them, pulling Kara into another kiss (being brave never felt so good), Kara couldn’t help but agree.

x

The next time they all got together, Kara and Lena were holding hands and sneaking not-so-sneaky kisses and gazing adoringly at each other, and upon seeing it, Alex first pretended to gag before she laughed uproariously, demanded champagne in celebration, and told anyone who’d listen that she’d called it from the day she found out that Kara alternated her time between drawing puppies and Lena.