#predicted ahead of time if first words can be predicted right? what does this mean for peoples views of life?

[droolypupboy]

MINORS DNI

warning: petplay, orgasm denial/control, painplay, degrading

my puppy’s being a huge brat as i type this “i can be rude to you if i want” - “im NOT talking back” - “im not being a brat” - “im gonna win everyyyyy game we play” “you can’t punish me for something i didn’t even do” to name a few.

he “doesn’t believe” that i know EXACTLY what im going to do to him later so im typing this to prove to my dumb little bitch that im always ten steps ahead of him.

if you’re reading this it means he’s already fucked out, used, and has had his attitude reigned in.

the only way to reign in that smart mouth of his is to deprive him. so first i’m going to gag him and put him in time out for six minutes (it was originally going to be three but his mouth got him in trouble, not that he knows it yet). i’m gonna ramble about allllll the things he’s missing out on since he’s talked himself into a hole.

afterward, i’ll let him take the gag out, force him to give me the apology i deserve, and edge him a couple good times before i breed him up and fuck him and brainwash him into being the good puppy he always is deep down.

my boy’s always a good puppy even when he’s making a pathetic attempt at behaving badly. he’s trained too well to know how to do it right. so i’ll let him use that tone with me, not gonna take much to remind him he’s too dumb to keep up the charade.

i love my little bimbo pup, even when he’s being a stubborn little bitch.

those are the plans. the rest of the post is gonna be scene updates.

update mid punishment: had to add on more time to his time out. thirteen minutes instead of six. he “didn’t regret his words” …he does now. he’s sitting on a chair with a vibe (turned off) between his legs, a gag in his mouth, and hands behind his back. i have a vibe on. poor thing is so jealous it hurts.

i told him no words apart from the ones i asked him to say. “i’m sorry for being a brat sir, please punish me, im sorry for being a naughty boy”

poor baby sounded so embarrassed. i forced him to get up with the vibe in and on to go grab the other toys im gonna use to edge and fuck him. poor thing promised to say thank you after every orgasm i deny him. he better be ready to keep that promise.

and only ten minutes into it he’s telling me how much better it feels to be a good boy and that he’s too stupid to be a brat. didnt i predict that earlier? nice and easy to break. my mutt <33 i think its because i made him listen to me cum.

sucked my cock SO obediently for a good ten minutes <33 he’s finally taking the easier route; being a good dog. i’m so proud of him. my training really shines through.

some of the details are just for us <33 but i’ll let you guys in on a pretty intimate part. we came to the sound of mutual i love you i love you i love yous.

extremely intimate and lovey-dovey scene. it ended up a LOT sillier and more giggly than it started. @purenullity

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 02)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): allusions to sex, graphic descriptions of murder, violent use of knife, vomiting, curse words, miscommunication, Derek says one cruel sentence but that's it I promise

Word Count: 2800-ish

Author's Note: here's the part two I promised! I'll be making a masterlist shortly after posting this so stay tuned I actually ended up making the masterlist ahead of time lol but yeah you can access it below xx as always, don't forget to like/comment/reblog or send me messages/asks if you wanna talk! :)

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

After that one fateful night, falling in bed with Derek Morgan only became that much easier.

The morning after that first time, you had slipped out of bed and prepared breakfast for two with the intention of sitting Derek down for a talk.

What did last night mean?

Does it seem like something you want to explore further?

Where do you see this heading in the future?

The mental list of questions just kept growing and growing as you continued scrambling the eggs. Derek emerged from the bedroom right around the time you were putting toasts on the plates.

And at that same second, Derek's phone began to ring.

"Hey, baby girl," he greeted quickly. "Okay. Alright, I'll be right there."

"Penelope?" you asked once he hung up the call.

"Uh huh."

"Is it a case?"

Before he could answer, your own phone started ringing on the kitchen counter, showing the contact name of one "Best Tech Fairy in the World".

"Yup." Derek smiled apologetically. "They want us in thirty."

You never did end up eating breakfast that day.

With the team's hectic schedule of flying, moving around, and profiling, it seemed as if you couldn't find the right time to pull Derek aside and talk about that night. Although in all honesty, you knew deep down that was merely an excuse for you to put off talking to him due to your own fears.

What if that night meant something different to him?

What if there was nothing he wanted to explore further?

What if he doesn't see this heading anywhere in the future?

The horror of these new questions tormented you every single second of every day. The prospect of losing Derek before you could have him, before anything could even happen between the two of you, was far too heartbreaking than any compromise you had to make just to have whatever little part of himself you were allowed to keep.

So when one particular night, during a particular case, you heard muffled knocking on the door to your hotel room, only to find Derek standing there in the hallway, you didn't even hesitate to let him in.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. The little charade you had with Derek just kept on going. At night, when everybody was fast asleep and there was no one to tell your secrets, Derek was all yours. But during the day, you kept it professional in front of everyone else. Just like the two oceans in the Gulf of Alaska, you made sure that these two sides of your life continued to remain as separated as possible.

But as you previously had predicted, something was always bound to go wrong in these circumstances.

"He's cute," Emily noted loudly from beside you.

"What?"You furrowed your forehead at the brunette, momentarily dragging your attention away from the file at hand.

The BAU team had been called in to assist on a case in a small town just around the outskirts of Iowa. Early investigation had your team believing that the case was somehow connected to a series of disappearances that happened in the 90s. So while Rossi and Hotch went to the crime scene where your latest victim was found, and JJ and Reid were running around to chase other potential leads, you, Emily, and Derek seemed to have pulled the shortest ends of the sticks and were now stuck delving into the endless stacks of case files from the 90s cases.

Emily raised an eyebrow at the confusion across your face. "Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm not playing. I'm just dumb."

Your fellow agent rolled her eyes at your retort. "Deputy Wolff got the hots for you."

You tore your eyes away from Emily's smirk and followed her gaze towards Deputy Wolff, who was just there to distribute the files you had requested from the disappearance cases. He was the youngest sherriff deputy in the department, lean build and tall with a kind face and driven eyes. He had been very helpful to everyone ever since your team had landed just the day prior.

"You're seeing things," you ended up saying to Emily, denying her claim once and for all.

"I'm not! He gets all flustered when you're around. Wait for him to come by again and then see for yourself. Or--" Emily's eyes flickered over to Derek, who had chosen to keep his silence from the other side of the table, "--you can ask the witnesses. Hey, Morgan. I'm right, aren't I?"

Derek lifted his head and met Emily's expectant stare. "About?"

"About how Deputy Wolff is totally in love with her and she should ask him for his number."

Derek's eyes briskly moved over to you. It was only for the shortest of seconds, but the gravity behind them had you staying rooted in place.

"I think she should do whatever she wants."

You tried not to let the lack of emotion in his reply affect you, but it was easier said than done. And for the next few hours, you caught yourself chancing a few glances in Derek's direction when you were sure that no one else was looking.

That same night, just like many other nights before, you found Derek standing in front of your door.

What transpired next had become muscle memory for you. Stripping you both of your clothes was a habitual routine. The feeling of his skin, the delicious stretch of his length inside of you, every detail surrounding the elusive Derek Morgan had forever been ingrained in the most intricate corners of your brain.

In those precious moments of delirium, you could almost pretend that Derek was yours as much as you were exclusively his.

"I saw Deputy Wolff talking to JJ this afternoon," Derek spoke up out of the blue into the quietness of your hotel room.

You exited the bathroom and looked at the direction where he was sitting against the headboard. "Oh?"

"He was asking about you."

"Was he?"

You picked up the discarded T-shirt on the floor before quickly putting it on, aware of the pair of eyes that followed every inch of your movement the entire time.

"He's gonna ask you out," Derek spoke again. There was a beat of silence before he continued, "Will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Go out with him."

The question lingered in the air.

The most truthful answer would be no. You were not going to go out with Deputy Wolff, or anyone else for that matter. You hadn't even been going on dates since you started joining the BAU. There was only one person you were interested in going on a date with at that moment, and he was the one lying on your bed asking stupid questions about your interest in other men.

Derek seemed to assume your extensive silence as your partiality to the idea. "You're considering it."

Your attention snapped back towards him.

"Don't go out with him," he later added.

That last statement fueled an incredulous fire inside your chest. "Why not?"

"Because--" Derek sat up straighter on the bed, searching his mind for the right reason to say but coming up empty, "--just because."

And that one simple reason just wasn't good enough for you.

"What happened to I should do whatever the hell I want, huh?" you shot back, recalling the words he had said at the station. "I don't know what I'd do yet. I'll have to think about it."

"There's nothing to think about." Derek's voice was harder now, more bitter. He threw the covers off his legs and started putting his boxer back on. "Why would you go out with him, anyway?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Silence.

You ignored the earth-shattering sound of your heart breaking in that deafening quietness.

You knew deep down what it was you wanted Derek to say. You wanted him to tell you that he didn't want you to go out with Deputy Wolff, or any other man ever again, because he wanted to be the only one to take you out from that point forward. You wanted him to assure you that the frightening feeling brewing in your chest was the same one that was also blooming in his. That the prospect of something new and exciting growing between the two of you wasn't just another product of your inane fantasies.

You wanted him to let you know that as much as your heart belonged to him, his heart had always belonged to you, too.

But Derek continued to let that silence linger. It settled heavily in the center of the room, mocking the ticking bomb between the two of you that was imminent to explode.

"So, you will go out with him then?" Derek said through gritted teeth.

"What is it to you?"

"Do you think he would still want to go out with you when he finds out I've been fucking you on the side for months?"

Derek knew it as soon as the sentence left his mouth, but it was too late. Your eyes were red, an ironic metaphor to the blazing rage that had clawed its way out of your chest. He began to move towards you, wanting to make right the wrong he had caused over his hurtful words, but your stern palm stopped him before he even got the chance to take half a step.

"I want you to leave," you seethed.

"Bug, I didn't mean to--"

"Leave, Derek." You gathered his clothes from the floor, making sure to shove every single item right into his arms. "Out. Now."

Derek didn't bother to put the rest of his clothing back on, and you didn't trouble yourself in casting one last glance at Derek's retreating figure before he slammed the door upon his exit.

In the painful aftermath of Derek's absence, you let yourself cry until the exhaustion brought you to sleep.

You hadn't talked to Derek again since that fight.

Technically, it wasn't entirely true. You did still talk to him at work. About the case. Or during the occasional team gatherings at the bar or at Rossi's house.

But beyond the necessary interactions you had to endure as coworkers, you and Derek had never been as far apart as possible.

The late night visits had stopped. So did the flirtatious, harmless banters that started long before your little arrangement. Missing him was your new constant, and it made you feel so foolish because Derek was always there, so near yet so out of reach at the same time.

Hence why, in an attempt to distract yourself from wallowing further into your misery--or to dwell too much over the fact that you had been sexually frustrated over the past few weeks--you chose to throw yourself completely into your work.

The team's latest attention had been preoccupied by a series of murders in Arlington. The targets were all women in their 20s to mid 30s who lived alone and had similar physical appearances to one another. The UnSub had kidnapped the women in their homes, taken them somewhere else, and kept them for no more than two weeks before murdering them and dumping their bodies at various locations around town.

At the latest dumping site, the UnSub had left a taunting message specifically addressed to the BAU unit.

"The UnSub obviously craves attention," Emily pointed out. "And he's patient, organized, which means he's highly intelligent. He most likely has a steady job that requires competence but lacking the sense of importance to satiate his needs."

"Well, that just narrows it down to every 9-to-5 worker in the entire city," JJ remarked.

"Nevertheless, it's the best lead we've got so far," Hotch said. "Let's deliver the profile. Reid, you go ahead and review the case files again. See if they missed anything in the initial investigation. And (Y/L/N), I want you to deliver the profile to the press for this one."

"Me?"

"Yes. You fit into his victimology. Hopefully, you'll attract his intrigue and make him slip something up."

Before you could utter your response, a deep voice spoke up from behind you, "Hotch, I don't think it's such a good idea."

You turned around and locked eyes with Derek, who had now gained the attention of the other members of the team.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's too risky, Hotch. We might as well just draw a target on her forehead by letting her give the profile," Derek argued.

The entire room stood still. It was one thing to question Hotch's decisions, but it was another to straight-up disagree with his call. A part of you felt warm at the knowledge that Derek still cared enough to be concerned about your safety, but the other part--the much larger one that was still reeling in the fallout of his rejection--was enraged because he didn't have any rights to speak on your behalf that way.

"I assure you, Morgan, we won't let anything happen to her," Hotch responded calmly. "But, (Y/L/N), it's your decision. You can refuse if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, I'll do it," you interjected quickly, casting a look in Derek's direction just for the sake of being spiteful. "I'll deliver the profile."

As it turned out, Hotch's prediction was correct.

A few days after the press conference, the BAU received a package courtesy of an anonymous sender. Inside, there was a single video tape with a paper containing the names of each member of the team glued on the top.

"That's our latest victim," Rossi noted as soon as the tape started playing on the projector.

It was a video of the victim whose body had been discovered just a day prior. Only in the tape, she was still very much alive. She looked bruised and beaten up, mostly delirious in her tied up position on the chair. Suddenly, she started to become hysterical just as a disguised figure walked into the frame.

"No sound," Reid thought out loud upon realizing that there was no audio in the tape.

"He's taunting us," you pondered before glancing at Hotch. "He must've seen the press conference."

"We'll get this tape to Garcia. See if she can analyze it for anything that can help us catch this UnSub," Hotch instructed.

Everyone's eyes returned towards the screen, seeing that the UnSub had moved to stand behind the victim. Despite having no audio, the look of pure terror on her face had successfully caused chills to run down your spine. Without any foreseen warning, the UnSub grabbed the victim's head and drove his knife straight into the juncture of her neck.

She was still fully conscious when he stabbed her. And in some twisted way, you were thankful that the psychopath had chosen to send the tape with no sound, because you truthfully didn't think that you were capable of sitting there silently while listening to the very last painful moments of another human being's life on this earth.

When he brought his knife across the curve of her neck, spurting an insane amount of blood that some of it even tainted the camera lense, you decided that you couldn't take it anymore.

"Excuse me," you mumbled quickly before rushing out of the room.

Your feet carried you towards the restroom, where you found the nearest empty cubicle and immediately dropped to your knees before emptying the content of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

When you reemerged from the stall, you were taken aback to see JJ already standing beside the hand dryer.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Hm." You nodded absentmindedly before turning on the faucet to wash your hands. "Sorry. It was just brutal, that's all."

"No need to apologize. I get it. It was awful," JJ agreed. "Sadly, not much different than what we've all seen before on our daily basis."

You caught JJ's eyes in the mirror, breaking the eye contact the moment her true implications dawned on you.

"(Y/N), what's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've been acting strange."

"Have I?"

You passed by the blonde woman and headed for the door, but JJ's hand on your forearm stopped you before you could go any further.

"You'll tell me if something's up, right?"

Your gut started to churn in guilt. JJ had been amazing since the first time you joined the team. In a way, she was the sister that you never had, and you knew that she was merely looking out for your well-being.

Unfortunately, this particular storm you were facing was something that you needed to figure out on your own. At least, for a little while. Perhaps in the future, you would tell JJ everything. About Derek, about you, your feelings, and the little suspicion that had been nagging at the back of your head for the last couple of days. But in the meantime, the most you could offer her were empty promises and little white lies.

"Of course, J," you told her as you took her hand in yours, squeezing affectionately. "Always."

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

“Your sister found me because she was ready.”

Kara frowns. “Ready for what?”

“For the truth.” Lena replies simply. “To wake up and leave the lie behind.”

“The lie?” Lena’s words bring back echoes of Alex’s message. The Matrix still has you… You’ll find me, if you’re ready to wake up. “You mean… the Matrix?”

“Yes.”

Kara leans forward, her attention caught. “What is the Matrix?”

Lena sighs, her eyes clouding over. “I’m afraid no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself. Right now, all I can tell you is that the Matrix is everywhere. It’s all around us. It’s in the air we breathe, in everything we touch…”

Lena ventures a hand between them to touch Kara’s, their hands connecting in the slightest. And even though she knows that she’s not really touching Kara’s hand, her mind feeds her the sensations of it — the softness of Kara’s skin, the gentle press of her flesh under Lena’s fingers.

Lena draws her hand away, and Kara follows it avidly with her eyes. “For you to know what the Matrix is, I have to go back to the beginning. Or at least, to where it begins for us.”

Or, the Supercorp Matrix AU

[So I found an old Matrix AU from a different fandom while I was rooting through my drive, and I thought it could be retooled into a Supercorp AU. Little did I know what I was inviting into my brain, but here we are suffering the consequences. (And now I have 2 different supercorp Matrix AUs. Great.) Spoilers ahead for the OG trilogy.]

In the movies, Neo is the One, but there are other Potentials. Each Potential displays extraordinary abilities beyond the standards of normal. Kara and Lena are both Potentials. Either one of them could be the One.

It begins in the Matrix, when Lena gets adopted by the Luthors as a little girl.

The Luthors are a picture-perfect family. Powerful, affluent, and respected. The father, the mother and the golden son. And Lena - smart, angelic and pretty, the perfect daughter - is the ideal addition to make their picturesque family complete.

Except when she's about 4 or so, it becomes apparent that Lena is not like other children.

It's immediately clear that her intellect far surpasses people four, five times her age. Lena is sharp and brilliant, able to grasp complex concepts most adults cannot. She seems to see the world around her in a different way.

The Luthors are no strangers to gifted children, their son Lex was deemed a prodigy at around the same age. At first, Lionel and Lillian take this as yet another proof of how exceptional Luthors are, and Lena is proudly displayed as their indigo child.

But Lena's talent develops as fast as she does.

Soon, she begins to exhibit strange, unexplained abilities. An expensive Waterford crystal goblet in Lionel's hand explodes when Lena has a tantrum. Once, Lillian walks into her playroom to find Lena having tea with her dolls, and when Lillian enters, all heads turn to her. Lena's and all four of her Madame Alexander dolls.

Her intellect begins to surpass what defines “normal” intelligence. She predicts and successfully foils an assassination attempt against Lionel. She prevents Lex from getting hit by a driver in a car chase five blocks away.

The last straw comes when Lena finds out that the cleaning lady's five year old son has cancer.

Lena convinces Alma to take her to see him. Five hours later, a tearful Alma brings the little girl back with something akin to wonder in her eyes. "Your little girl is an angel, Mr. Luthor. Bendecida por la Virgen. She cured my Carlos! She took away his sickness! Ella es un milagro de Dios!”

However, far from seeing it as a miracle, the Luthors circle the wagons. The next day, Lena finds out Alma has been dismissed, and a shift occurs in the Luthor household.

When Lena's abilities were within the parameters of "normal", they were good, something to be proud of. But now that her gifts have proven to be beyond that, they become alien, freakish. Something to be hidden. People would be asking too many questions, and Luthors do not permit those.

Suddenly, instead of being lauded for what she is able to do, Lena is now scrutinized and examined to find out what's "wrong" with her. It begins to strain the family that is obsessed with order and perfection.

They take Lena to various doctors and put her through all sorts of tests, but none of them seem able to find an explanation for Lena’s strange abilities.

Until they meet Rhea, an educator who runs an exclusive facility for “gifted” children.

An elegant and well-spoken woman, Rhea seems fascinated by Lena. Her teaching “methods” seem vague, but out of all the specialists Lena has seen so far, she is the only one who seems to understand and make a connection with her. At the very least, they seem to speak the same language. Rhea knows about this Matrix Lena has been talking about.

Rhea asks Lena if she wants to find out what the Matrix truly is. And when Lena agrees, Rhea takes the little girl to the Oracle to confirm her suspicions that she is a Potential.

Lena is taken to a tall building, riding all the way to the top floor with her little hand in Rhea’s. On the 64th floor, they enter a glass office in which an imperious looking blond woman sits, watching her with a piercing eye.

“Leave us.”

The woman orders sharply, slanting a glare at Rhea. She is at least 6 inches shorter than Rhea, even in heels, but her tone and her face brook no argument. Rhea retreats with a seething sneer, but she complies.

“Now, you,” the woman turns to Lena with a dark look and a raised brow. It fails to intimidate Lena, who has lived with Lillian Luthor’s pointed glares for the past three years of her life. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Lena merely blinks at her. “Because I know things.”

The woman scoffs. “So do I. Doesn’t make you special.” She gestures around her at her office with a spectacular view. “I know things too.”

Lena’s eyebrows rise as well. “Not everything.”

The woman’s glare intensifies, but Lena stares her down. After a moment, a corner of the woman’s mouth lifts, and she barks out a laugh. “You’re a smart one, aren’t you?”

Lena clasps her hands behind her back. “So I’ve been told.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Lena nods. “You’re the Oracle.”

The woman snorts delicately. “Did Rhea tell you that?”

Lena regards her solemnly. “She didn’t have to.”

The woman’s eyes narrow at her, but Lena says nothing more. She is scrutinized for another moment before the woman smirks. “Alright. Since you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what you already know.”

Lena blinks at her, responding to the woman’s scrutinizing gaze in kind. “I know that you’re not human.”

Another laugh, this time louder. Piercing blue eyes gain a twinkle of mirth. “Very good. What else?”

“I know that you’re not real.”

The woman scoffs disdainfully. “Real is an abstract concept.”

“I know that I’m dreaming, and none of this is real.”

The mirth suddenly vanishes from the woman’s gaze, and her blue eyes stare at Lena intently. “What do you mean?”

Lena sweeps her little arms across the room. “This. All of this. Everything. It’s not real. It’s just a dream.”

The woman is leaning forward now. It looks to Lena as if she is holding her breath. “And what makes you think that?”

Lena chews thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Have you ever read Plato’s allegory of the cave?”

The woman’s eyebrows rise and an amused smile dances over her lips. “Of course.”

“It feels like that. Like the people chained to the walls of the cave, watching just shadows and reflections. Other people — even my parents, even Lex — they look around them and think that this is the real thing. But all we’re seeing are just shadows. Sometimes it makes me feel confused and blurry, like I’m dreaming, but I can’t wake up.”

The woman hums and her hands form a steeple under her chin as she continues to observe Lena.

"In the story, the prisoner who is freed into the sunlight was angry and in great pain after being in the dark for so long. Why would they go through that? Why not stay in the comfort of the darkness that they’ve known all their lives?”

Lena’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Because they would finally know the truth. They wouldn’t be living in a lie anymore. They would be free.”

A smile spreads across the woman’s face, and the nod she gives is almost approving. “Is that what you want?”

“Only if you tell me the truth.” Lena nods solemnly. “Will you tell me the truth, Oracle?”

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” The woman chuckles. “And one more thing. Call me Cat.”

Despite their animosity toward each other, both Cat and Rhea decide that Lena is more than ready for extraction.

The only problem is that Lena, at 6 years old, is one of the youngest children to be extracted so far. Because she’s so young, it’s decided that her family should be brought with her too. Lex, by then a teenager, is given a choice: to stay in the Matrix, or go down the rabbit hole, as it were.

Lex chooses to follow his family, and the Luthors are extracted by Rhea. They are brought on-board her ship, the Daxam. All four Luthors are taken to Zion, and told the truth about everything — the lie of the Matrix, the human harvest fields, and the fact that there is no going back.

That’s when it all goes to hell.

Lionel barely lasts three months.

Unable to accept the truth that his life of power and control was all a lie, and unwilling to believe that he now exists in a world where his name holds no weight, he somehow escapes Zion and finds his way to a human pod to try to inject himself back into the Matrix.

They search for him for weeks, and eventually they find him in the pod, impaled on the metal breathing hose stuffed into his mouth with the end sticking out the back of his head.

Lillian lasts longer, but this is no comfort.

Torn from her privileged life, her resentment begins to build and build, as she’s forced to accept her new reality.

Her perfect life was stolen from her. The high-paying job, the distinguished career, the unlimited influence, the beautiful house, the comfortable lifestyle — all gone. All apparently just a dream.

And now, Lillian has woken up to the dirt and drab and heat and toil of Zion’s underground, with nothing to show for her former life but the daughter she didn’t even ask for. The same daughter who is the very reason she’s trapped here now with no chance of going back.

She refuses to reconcile with her new reality, but she is no weakling like her husband. Instead, she lets the ugly, bitter ire fester inside her over the years, until it finally comes out.

One night, Lillian enters the rough, tiny cave that has become her unwilling home, creeps into the alcove carved into rock where her teenaged daughter sleeps and pours acid over her.

Lena’s screams wake others in the neighboring dwelling, and healers are immediately dispatched to tend to her wounds. Thankfully, Lena was turned away in her sleep, and the burns were limited to her back.

By the time her condition is pronounced stable, Lillian is gone.

Without her parents, Lena is taken in by Rhea to live with her, her husband Lar Gand and their infant son, Mon-El.

Rhea keeps Lena very close, almost jealously so. She prizes the young girl above all else in their household. Most of her time is devoted to teaching Lena, training her using the fight simulations and programs on the Daxam, instructing her on how to pilot the ship.

For Lena — who had grown up under Lillian’s growing resentment and bitterness, who had just survived a horrific attack on her by her own mother — Rhea is a godsend. Under Rhea’s maternal affection, Lena thrives. She pushes her own limits during her training, masters techniques with unparalleled speed and unerring accuracy, devours knowledge programs downloaded into her mind every time she’s plugged in. She blooms under Rhea’s freely-given praise, and works harder, starved as she was for acknowledgment and affection over the years.

As Rhea’s son, young Mon-El, grows up without displaying any unique abilities, he is often shunted to the side. Despite their age-difference, Lena makes a conscious effort to spend time with him, to give him the same nurturing Rhea is giving her.

She teaches Mon-El how to make repairs to the ship, explains how the thrusters work, how the pads keep the ship in balance. He’s most fascinated by the robotic armed exoskeletons that are kept at the dock for the city’s defense. He often asks Lena to take him to the bridge to watch them, and the two of them watch the exoskeletons being loaded, Lena leaning on the top rail, and Mon-El perched on the middle one, his skinny legs swinging in the air. As Lena smiles, the young boy boldly tells her that one day, he’ll pilot one of those.

It feels… nice. Almost like having a brother again. It feels like a second chance

After all, her own brother — well, that bridge was burned a long time ago, and Lena tries not to think about it.

But it’s hard to forget when she sees him all time, a nightmare come to life, whenever she’s plugged into the Matrix.

Lena will never forget the first time she saw her brother there.

Lex had abandoned them, had left his mother and sister in Zion years ago, as soon as he was of age. She’d tried to find him, had spent weeks, months, looking for him, to no avail.

Finally, Lena had been forced to accept that Lex had met their father’s fate. He could’ve been attacked by sentinels, gotten lost in the mechanical sewers, or worse, attempted the same thing Lionel had.

Either way, the result was the same, and the guilt and pain of it had been agony, but Lena had accepted it.

Until the day she met the Agent.

Most agents were already nigh indestructible, with their speed and brute strength, not to mention the internal communication they kept with each other through the program.

But this one… this one stayed on Lena’s tail with a dogged, malicious ferocity that she couldn’t shake off. It had been dangerously close several times already as he chased her throughout the dark, rain-soaked city streets. She couldn’t get a good lock on him, and it was all she could do to follow Jack’s instructions to the nearest extraction point.

Lena’s almost there, sliding into the booth, hand outstretched to grab the phone — when she sees it.

The Agent wearing her brother’s face, a feral smile stretching his lips as his fingertips brush the corner of her dark coat. The grin turns into a snarl as Lena lifts the phone to her ear, and he misses her by a millimeter.

It had been only a second, but… it was Lex.

Lena was sure of it. So sure that she had spent months hacking into the system with Brainy’s help, trying to find out what the hell was going on.

It takes six months of hacking into the mainframe to discover the truth. Lex had succeeded where their father had not. The son had surpassed the father.

Not only had Lex somehow managed to get himself reinserted into the Matrix, the anomaly of his presence in the code had also caused a glitch in the system itself.

It takes another encounter with Lex — in his new regalia of a generic black suit, bland tie and FBI-issued sunglasses — sneering at her as he points a gun at her head, to realize yet another knife-wound truth.

Her brother has become a virus in the Matrix.

________

Kara’s experience in the Matrix could not have been more different from Lena’s.

More than a decade before Lena was born, Kara Zorel was like any normal thirteen year old girl. She went to school, hung out with her friends, had a crush on the boy living next door. She got straight A’s, and volunteered at the local senior home.

Her quicksilver mind that could spot things others couldn’t was easily considered as part of her intelligence. She was a very smart girl, after all. Her obsession with puzzles and codes was easily filed away as a quirk or a phase she was going through until she found a new hobby.

Everything about her life seemed to be on track to become ordinary, until the day of the accident.

At least, they told her it was an accident. Kara doesn’t remember any of it. All she really remembers is waiting for a train at a subway station. She remembers her father mentioning a Trainmaster who would take them away, somewhere new. To a new home, her mother had said. [This is from the 3rd movie]

And then nothing.

Kara thinks she must have been dreaming, because she can remember being left alone in that subway station — the walls were blank and a sterile white, with nothing to indicate the presence of life except Kara herself sitting on the otherwise empty bench. She can remember the feeling of waiting, waiting endlessly for the nothing that would come — no trains, no other passengers, no one else at the station with her. She can remember running along the platform tirelessly, only to end up in the same place she’d started from. She remembers the feeling of being left behind and trapped and scared. Mostly scared.

And then the next thing she knows, she’s awake on a hospital bed with Eliza Danvers sleeping on the chair next to her.

The Danvers had found her on the train platform, curled up, unconscious, on the same bench she’d dreamed of. They’d thought she was a runaway, or a missing child, but the FBI agents who had come to Kara’s hospital room had told her that her parents were dead.

An accident, they’d said. A subway malfunction that had taken out a whole car. Under investigation, the man in sunglasses and a dark suit had reassured Jeremiah and Eliza in a monotonous voice.

With no one to claim her, no other family to speak of, Kara is taken in by the Danvers. They’re good people, kind and understanding when Kara wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares of being trapped in a white sea of nothingness.

When Kara wakes up crying and sweating, Eliza is there to soothe her and rock her in her arms until she fell asleep again. When she tells Jeremiah that everything is too loud and bright, he sits her down and teaches her to calm her thoughts and meditate.

Alex, who had gone from being an only child to having an anxious, high-maintenance little intruder in her room, is less than happy about the situation. She keeps her distance, and gives Kara cold glares from across the bedroom or ignores her completely.

Until one night when Alex sneaks back into their room from the concert she’d snuck out to earlier, and finds Kara sitting on one corner of her bed with her knees curled up. With Alex gone for most of the night, Kara had been alone and had refused to fall asleep, terrified of having nightmares again.

With only a little bit of grumbling, Alex tosses all their pillows and blankets onto the floor, and drapes one of her sheets over both their beds to make their first blanket fort. The first of many.

Curled up on the floor next to Alex, Kara sleeps soundly through the night for the first time since waking up without her parents.

Still, despite slowly settling in with the Danvers, Kara can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

It feels as if everything around her is just a little bit off-kilter. As if the world had somehow changed in the time she’d been unconscious. Or maybe she had. Either way, it feels as if both Kara and the world around her know on some level that she’s not supposed to be here. Perhaps it’s because she was meant to die along with her parents. But by some unknown anomaly, here she is, half of her present, half of her straining to join her mother and father wherever they are.

It’s not a reflection on the Danvers. Kara couldn’t have asked for a better family to care for her. And she cares for them too. Over time, Kara gains a sister she would die for in a heartbeat, instead of a roommate who barely tolerated her presence when she first arrived. Her definition of ‘mother’ slowly expands and makes room for Eliza in her heart. She finds a man to respect and admire in Jeremiah.

Still, the feeling of being out of place persists throughout the years, always in the back of Kara’s mind.

Tragedy strikes when Jeremiah disappears.

It happens quickly, too quickly. One day her foster father is there, the next he’s gone. The only clue the police get is the last voicemail on Jeremiah’s phone.

The message starts with Jeremiah’s voice, reminding Alex that he’ll be picking her up from softball practice later, then it cuts off abruptly without warning.

Ten seconds later, another voice is heard through the other end, this time a smooth monotone. It sounds nothing at all like Jeremiah, and it sends a chill down Kara’s spine.

“The Luthor girl escaped again. She has eluded us one too many times for a human. She cannot avoid the inevitable…. Send the Brother. Next time, she dies.”

Nothing is found at the scene but Jeremiah’s phone. No evidence, no ransom note, no explanation for the strange message, nothing to trace, nothing to at all to suggest that Jeremiah Danvers was there. The blank-faced FBI agents offer no sympathy when they inform Eliza of the news in a smooth, apathetic monotone.

[[In case it’s not clear, Jeremiah got turned into an agent by the other agents who were chasing Lena during one of the times she was plugged into the Matrix]]

Their little family is shocked and reeling, but they cling to one another in their grief. Kara remembers something her mother always used to say. Stronger together, Kara. Life is hard, and we cannot face it alone. We must be each other’s strengths. We are always stronger together.

Still, life goes on. Keeps moving on, even after tragedy and loss. Sometimes, Kara feels as if the world is in constant motion, its inertia having no time to waste on a young girl who feels as if she has been left behind.

The sense of alienation increases, and Kara is diagnosed with depression. Which only serves to increase her family’s concern, and puts a near-permanent look of worry in Eliza’s eyes.

So Kara puts on her brightest smile and hugs her foster mother. She talks more, smiles wider, laughs louder, and makes more friends to go out with so she’s not at home alone in her room which no longer has Alex in it.

Alex goes to college, then med school, the chip on her shoulder large enough to be seen from space. She’s determined to find out what really happened to her father, and Kara knows how stubborn she is.

But she only really finds out how serious Alex is when her older sister declares that she’s joining the FBI, and no amount of talking from either Kara or Eliza can dissuade her.

And it’s not as if Kara has a leg to stand on. At least Alex has a purpose, a direction. Meanwhile, Kara has no idea what she wants to do with her life. She meanders around after college, a little bit lost and floundering. She’s intelligent, her professors said, but she lacks focus.

Eventually, she gets hired at Catco as an assistant to the big boss herself, Cat Grant.

All of 5’4” in heels, the woman herself strikes fear into the heart of every intern roaming the halls. It’s impossible not to snap to attention when her private elevator dings and she steps out. Each click of her heels is a reminder of the power she wields, and honestly, Kara is a little terrified of her.

But she straightens her spine and her glasses, tucks her hair behind her ear, and refuses to be cowed.

And it’s as if Miss Grant takes it as a challenge to break her, because her demands become more and more unrealistic, more and more impossible. But something inside Kara tells her not to back down, to stare her right back, and wait her out. Cat Grant is a puzzle, and Kara has always been good at puzzles.

The key comes in the form of Carter Grant.

Cat tasks Kara to pick her son up from school one afternoon, and Kara finds the young boy waiting for her right outside the school gates. He’s a very sweet boy, a little shy, but he eventually tells Kara about this comic he’s been reading about a young superhero named Supergirl.

As he begins to brighten up talking about his new favorite character, Carter doesn’t notice the car coming from the other side of the street. Neither does Kara at first. But something inside her tells her to turn around.

Maybe it was a sound, an instinct, and unconscious observation too quick for her mind to consciously process. Whatever it was, it had her turning just in time to see the car heading straight for Carter.

She barely has time to pull the boy back to the sidewalk, and the car almost clips him. Almost.

“Are you okay??” Kara hurriedly checks Carter for any injuries or signs that he’s shaken up. Other than the boy’s wide eyes, he seems to be fine.

“That- that was amazing! You were so fast, Kara! You were like Supergirl! How did you do that?”

As they walk back home, Cart gushes about how awesome Kara’s save was, how she was as fast and strong as Supergirl. Kara laughs it off, but the relief that the boy is okay lingers.

The second the front door closes behind Kara, Carter pulls out a phone and scrolls through the contact list until he finds ‘Mom’.

When Cat answers, he whispers excitedly into the phone. “She did it! She was even faster than Lena by 0.02 seconds!”

“Good. Did she say anything else?”

“She mentioned her sister. Are you going to tell the Manhunter? Is J’onn going to pull them out? Or maybe Lena can come? I like it when she comes to visit.”

A rustle of paper in the background, and Cat drawls in an almost bored voice. “Not yet. She’s not ready.”

[[In this AU, Carter is a computer program designed to assist the Oracle. Kinda like Seraph in the movies. He and Cat have a very unusual relationship. He was just supposed to be a simple program to help ward her, but he was designed to be charming in an innocent and disarming way to help distract from his real purpose. Cat developed a fondness for him, so when he tries to protect her when she’s in danger, she ends up shoving him behind her and protecting him.]]

On the anniversary of Jeremiah’s disappearance, another tragedy rocks the Danvers family.

Alex Danvers disappears.

Eliza is inconsolable, but Kara… Kara is numb, at first. Denial is always the first instinct of the human mind when a shock is delivered to its system. There’s talk of a search, trying to find out where she might have gone, her usual routine, any places Alex frequents — it all rolls over Kara’s head. They’re looking for a body, but that’s not how Alex is gonna be found.

Unlike Jeremiah’s disappearance, Alex’s is not without a trail. She is an FBI agent after all. There will always be a trail, and like in most FBI cases, it can be found in the absence of one.

In this case, it’s Alex’s computer. It’s missing.

The more Kara thinks about it, the more it galvanizes her. Kara knows Alex, knows her quirks and her habits. She didn’t have many friends outside of work, mostly people from med school she’s since lost touch with. No, anything that happened to Alex would be connected to her work, and Alex kept all her work files in that computer.

She throws herself into finding it. Find it, and she finds Alex.

For months, Kara follows every lead, every loose thread she can find, all in the hope of finding the computer. Every time she comes across a dead end, she doggedly retraces her steps until she can find another lead. The chalkboard in the kitchen that used to house her grocery list desk becomes a list of all possible locations. Her desk at Catco is a disaster of papers and post-it notes — a receipt from Cat’s dry cleaners here, the number for Annie Leibovitz’s assistant there, and Alex’s bank statements piled on top.

All the while, Cat watches her. Observes her tenacity, her ability to find patterns that no one else would’ve noticed, her keen attention that allows her to find details that other people would’ve ignored.

Finally, after nearly a year of looking, Kara finds Alex’s computer in a security deposit box under the alias Alice Liddell.

It takes her all night, but Kara manages to gain access to Alex’s documents. She finds file after file on Alex’s investigation into Jeremiah’s disappearance. Articles on similar disappearances all over the world. Some incidents are identical to Jeremiah’s, some with more of a trail. The victimology is all over the place, but in certain cases, there is a disturbing pattern.

A number of the disappearances occur in National City, and nearly all of them have one thing in common. They’ve all been patients or relatives of patients at the Luthor Family Hospital — a stroke patient and his fiancee, a woman in a car accident, a man with a gunshot wound, an old lady with Alzheimer's and her widow, even three children from the cancer ward and one of their mothers. Most of these people were deceased, but there must have been some reason Alex thought otherwise. And if she was right, then there is something very disturbing going on in the Luthor Family Hospital.

Kara keeps searching the files, and finds a certain devolution in Alex’s notes. Towards the end, she seemed more and more disorganized, her thoughts more and more disjointed. And Kara feels a terrible sense of guilt at not noticing what her sister was going through.

Throughout the files, she finds multiple references Alex made to something called the Matrix. She stumbles upon a mess of a pdf that she’d originally thought was gibberish, but upon closer inspection actually more closely resembles computer code. And in the middle of the unintelligible tangle of letters and symbols, she finds a question.

What is the Matrix?

Just as Kara is trying to make sense of the question, a new message alert appears in Alex’s inbox. Kara stares at the screen. It originated from Alex’s own email. Frowning, she clicks on the message, and her eyes widen as she reads.

I’m alive.

Kara springs forward so fast, she almost dislodges the laptop from her kitchen counter. She tries multiple times to reply to the message, but nothing happens. Kara growls, and almost as if the computer can sense her frustration, another message appears.

I’m alive and I’m out.

Kara’s brows furrow. What? What the hell?

The Matrix still has you, Kara.

Kara’s frown deepens and she looks around her, checks the computer. Is this some kind of prank?

I’m sorry I had to leave, but you can’t follow. Not until you’re ready.

Ready for what, Kara thinks.

Ready to give it all up. Ready to wake up. You told me once that you felt like everything since you woke up in the subway station has felt strange, like a dream. You were right, it is. And you’ll find me, if you’re ready to wake up.

Kara’s jaw drops in shock.

Follow the white rabbit.

The message flashes across the screen for a moment, then the monitor goes black. Kara snaps it shut and pushes it as far away from her as she can.

That — what was that? A-a trick? A hallucination brought on by the lack of sleep and her hyperfixation?

She could check it again, turn the laptop back on and click on the messages again — but suddenly Kara is gripped by fear, and denial feels more like a comfort.

She packs away the computer, stowing it under the desk where she can’t see it, and goes to bed. She doesn’t sleep until 3 AM.

But of course, Kara is no coward. She’s never been one to back down to her fears. In the morning, armed with a cup of Noonan’s coffee and a clearer mind, she opens the laptop again.

She doesn’t quite have the courage to check the messages yet, but she finds another article. This time, about the [head] of the Luthor Family Hospital, a woman named Lena Luthor.

It takes no time at all for her quick mind to make a connection, but it takes a while for the rest of her conscious brain to catch up.

Luthor. She’d heard that name before. In a voicemail, the only thing left of Jeremiah Danvers. “The Luthor girl got away again.”

Lena Luthor.

That can’t be a coincidence. Alex had been looking into their dad’s disappearance, and the Luthor name has already come up more than once, and now a female Luthor.

All the research she does on Lena Luthor comes up with next to nothing. Other than business articles and some papers in several scientific journals, there’s very little mention of the woman. So far, all Kara knows is that Lena Luthor is the CEO of one of the leading tech companies in the world, dedicated to providing accessible technology and communication devices to billions of people all over the globe — their new L-Phones are popping up everywhere. She’s also apparently a brilliant scientist and researcher, invested in scientific research to help prevent and cure diseases. She also owns and is directly involved in the running of the Luthor Family Hospital, a facility known for innovative and experimental medicine.

And for all of her work and accolades, there has never been a single photograph of this woman past the age of 6. Nothing. This woman’s image has never been recorded in any way, in any kind of media, in any event, in all the years that she has been running L-Corp. How is that even possible?

Now, Kara’s definitely suspicious.

Three days after the computer is found — plenty of time for thinking, but not too much time to do something stupid, she thinks — Cat makes her move.

She summons Kara to her office and delivers her ultimatum, in the form of an offer.

“Y- You think I have what it takes to be a reporter?”

“You’re an intelligent woman, Keira. But more than that, you can see things others can’t. You observe far more than people give you credit for. You could have a bright future here at Catco.”

Cat surveys her intently over her glasses. “It’s your choice. You can take the job, or you can keep wasting your life going down this rabbit hole.”

Cat gestures toward Kara’s messy desk, but again Kara’s quick mind gives her a nudge. That’s the third reference she’s heard in as many days. Rabbit hole. Alice. White rabbit.

Kara asks Cat for time to think about it, but really, she’s already made her decision. She uses her connect as Cat’s assistant to set up an appointment, introducing herself as Kara Danvers from Catco, writing an article about the Luthor Family Hospital.

The assistant confirms that Miss Luthor would be delighted to give Catco a glimpse into the facility to bring awareness of the work they do, and confirms the time.

When Kara arrives, she is directed to the children’s cancer center. When she sees the whimsical mural of a white rabbit hopping along a trail on the walls, she knows she’s at the right place.

Kara follows the mural until she reaches a room at the end of the hall. A soft feminine voice floats down the hallway and reaches Kara’s ears.

“To begin with, tell me, do you think that these men would have seen anything of themselves or of one another except the shadows cast from the fire on the wall of the cave that fronted them?

How could they, he said, if they were compelled to hold their heads unmoved through life?”

Kara walks closer, drawn to the sound. She stops just outside the door to what is clearly a child’s hospital room. A little girl in white pajamas and a colorful bonnet sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed, listening to the dark-haired woman sitting on the chair by her side. The woman’s back is turned to Kara, but she can see the book she’s reading from. Plato.

“By Zeus, I do not, said he.

Then in every way such prisoners would deem reality to be nothing else than the shadows of the artificial objects.”

“Quite inevitably.” The little girl on the bed quotes with a smile. Kara hears a soft, amused hum from the woman.

“Consider, then, what would be the manner of the release and healing from these bonds… When one was freed from his fetters and compelled to stand up suddenly and turn his head around… and lift up his eyes to the light, and in doing all this, felt pain…”

Kara sees the moment the reader realizes that she’s there. The woman’s head turns just the slightest, and Kara can see her sharp, elegant profile silhouetted in the light. She keeps reading, but at this point, they both know she’s aware of Kara’s presence. Kara continues to listen silently.

“What do you suppose would be his answer if someone told him that what he had seen before was all a cheat and an illusion… But that now, being nearer to reality and turned toward more real things, he saw more truly?”

Just then, the little girl’s eyes snap up to meet Kara’s, and big black eyes blink owlishly at her. “Miss Lena, we have a visitor.”

The woman finally turns, and Kara gets her first glimpse of Lena Luthor. Cut-glass green eyes are perceptive as they take Kara in, and a small smile plays on the corner of red lips.

“So we do, Zuri.”

She sets the book down on the bed beside the child and rises from her seat, a pale hand extended. "Kara Danvers, I presume?"

It takes Kara a second to reply, unable to take her eyes off the woman. There’s something arresting about her, something that could probably stop anyone in their tracks. Even the way she tips her head to survey Kara is fluid and mesmerizing.

Clearing her throat, Kara takes Lena Luthor’s proffered hand. “Yeah – uh, yes.”

The woman's smile grows. "I've been expecting you."

For a moment, the words make Kara's stomach flutter, then the 'duh' moment hits her. Of course she'd been expecting her, they had an appointment. Kara's face flushes red. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Miss Luthor."

Green eyes gain a look of amusement and crinkle at the corners. Lena Luthor looks as if she has a secret, or like she’s in on a joke Kara doesn't know. "Not as much as I have, I'm sure."

Kara's brows furrow in confusion, but before she can ask the woman what she means, the Luthor bends down and kisses the top of the child's head, before heading out the door and gesturing for Kara to follow.

[[I just love the idea of Lena reading the Allegory of the Cave to the children like she did when she was a kid, as her way of preparing them, a way of telling them that yes, extraction will hurt, it won't be easy to accept the truth, but they will be free].

[Also in this AU, the extraction points used to be the pay phones like in the movie, except those got phased out once the machines figured out that’s what the resistance was using. So Lena developed the L-phones, and made it so one would always be easily accessible. That’s the work she does at L-Corp]]

After their tour of the hospital concludes, Lena watches Kara walk out through the double doors, throwing a friendly wave behind her. As soon as she's out of sight, she pulls out an L-phone.

"Well, she’s persistent, I'll give you that."

"Told you. Who do you think she got it from?”

“I see stubbornness runs in the family.” Lena hums in amusement.

A chuckle from the other end of the line. “You have no idea.”

"How close is she?"

Alex’s voice turns business-like. "Well, she’s made the connection to you, and Kelly’s seeing some sizeable fluctuations in the code, so I'd say she’s getting there. J’onn thinks she might be ready soon. He says she’s responding quickly for someone who hasn’t had as long to adjust. Sooner if you prepare her, probably.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

“Rhea,” Lena can hear the seething disdain Alex’s voice, and thinks her mentor is probably standing over Alex’s shoulder as they speak. “Would like me to remind you that the sooner we pull out my sister —“ Lena can almost see her glare at Rhea. “The sooner you can get back to the Daxam, and this can ‘all be over with’.”

Lena shakes her head. “I’m not pulling her out before she’s ready. The consequences could be disastrous.”

“Yeah? Try telling that to your Captain.”

They’re interrupted by an excited young voice. “Hi, Lena!”

“Mon-El?”

Alex snorts over the line. “Yeah, can you believe her? She brought the kid over just to get you to ‘speed things up’.”

“When are you coming back, Lena? I miss you! I snuck into the dock last week, but M’gann caught me. She said she’d teach me how to make shells if I promised not to go past the bridge again. And Imra asked if she could come with us the next time we go to the bridge to see the loaders, I told her yeah. That’s okay, right?”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Lena can’t help but smile a bit at the young boy’s enthusiasm. “Of course she can. I’ll be back soon, Mon-El. Stay out of trouble, and do what your ranking officer says.”

“Okay, kid, you heard the lady. Go bother Brainy and Kelly at operations. It's about time you learn to read code anyway."

Lena can hear the boy grumbling in the background, but he obeys. As soon as he's out of earshot, Lena goes back to business.

“Start a trace for Kara's pod location, and standby. Be ready to plug in when I tell you to.”

"Copy. J’onn’s gonna try to get us as close as he can, but it's the fields. We can never be too careful. And Lena…? Try to make it easy for her."

Alex’s voice softens at her request, her concern for her sister evident in every word, and Lena understands. Just as Alex understands that there is nothing easy about the truth Kara will have to see.

"I'll do what I can."

This is not the last time Kara pays her a visit.

Under the guise of her article, Kara returns to Lena again. And again.

The first time she comes over under the guise of an interview, she stays until lunch. And then takes Lena to lunch, partly to make up for ruining her schedule, and partly because the CEO confesses that she often forgets to eat throughout the day.

They eat at Kara’s favorite lunch spot, Noonan’s, where Kara is aghast to learn that Lena has never tried any of their desserts despite the café being less than a block away from L-Corp. They end up trying nearly every dessert on the menu. Or at least Lena samples a little bit of everything, and Kara finishes it all off.

They part, with some reluctance on Kara’s end, three hours past Kara’s allotted time, but Lena assures her that it was worth clearing her schedule, considering how much she enjoyed Kara’s company.

It’s only after she’s no longer in Lena’s presence that Kara realizes she’d all but forgotten about her purpose for coming, which was to interrogate her about the suspicious disappearances at the Luthor Family Hospital, and about Lena’s possible involvement in Alex’s own disappearance.

She returns, this time with the flimsy excuse of bringing Lena lunch now that she knows the CEO won’t remember it herself. Lena suggests they go out to the nearby city park to enjoy her break there.

Lena leads her to a bench on a hill and they sit there quietly, enjoying their view of the park. Lena gives Kara a shy smile. “I like to come out here sometimes. When everything becomes… too much. Sometimes, everything around me just feels so wrong and… fake. Especially with what I do. It feels like none of it, none of this is real.”

Kara turns to look at her fully, a crinkle in her forehead, and Lena wonders if she's pushing it. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever had that feeling where… you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or awake? And you’re not quite sure if anything around you is real or not?”

Lena chances a look at the other woman. Kara is looking back at her, eyes wide and intent. It takes a moment, one long moment where Kara is just staring at her, as if trying to puzzle her out. Then she nods.

“Yeah. All time.”

“That’s how I used to feel.” Lena holds her gaze, steady green meeting wondering blue. Kara is so close right now, so close that Lena could tell her. How easy it would be if Lena could convey the truth just by looking into Kara’s eyes. But she’s not ready yet. Lena drops her gaze with a soft laugh.

“I guess I was just thinking, if none of this is real, then none of my problems there would be real, either.” She gestures back at L-Corp with a wry smile.

Kara takes the bit, and her smile softens, blue gaze losing some of its intensity.

Kara fails her mission again that time. And the next. And the next. It feels as if she forgets her problems when she’s with Lena. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like she’s out of place. The world doesn’t feel so wrong when she’s with Lena, or at least, it doesn’t bother Kara as much. She feels like… herself.

As for Lena, she knows they’re running out of time, and that the agents will catch wind of them soon. Especially since Kara is on the precipice of the truth.

But for the first time, Lena finds herself delaying the inevitable. It’s unlike her — the Potential who has spent her whole life freeing as many minds from the Matrix as she can; the second-highest ranking officer and chief engineer of the Daxam, who seizes every situation with a level head and a calm command.

“What are you doing, Lena?”

Rhea’s voice is an imperious snap, even over the line. “You have never spent this long in the Matrix since I pulled you out. You’re putting yourself in danger for a simple extraction. It shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“No extraction is ever simple. I told you, she’s not ready.”

“I know you and that Oracle—” the word is practically a hiss in her mentor’s mouth. “—think that this woman is a Potential, but if she really were that special, she would’ve been ready a long time ago. You were ready long before I found you.”

“This is different—“

“Why? Because you’re sweet on her?”

Lena’s eyes narrow. “You know that’s not why.”

As soon as Lena’s tone gains an authoritative edge, Rhea softens. “I know, my dear. But you know how I worry about you being plugged in for so long with… Lex out there. Besides, you have been neglecting your duties on the ship. Your crew needs you, Mon-El needs you. Come back home, Lena.”

Lena relents. “I will. Soon.”

But ending her time with Kara is easier said than done.

It may be selfish, but around Kara, Lena feels lighter. Her responsibilities don’t weigh as much, and the bleakness of war vanishes in the company of someone so earnest and warm and hopeful. Kara is… resilient. In spite of all that she’s been through, she remains strong, determined, and most incredible of all, kind.

Lena watches Kara with the children — the youngest Potentials, who see the wrongness of the world around them, but aren’t ready yet to be pulled out — and watches her pull gap-toothed smiles and belly laughs out of even the most solemn ones.

She extends this kindness, even to Lena — over daily reminders to eat and take care of herself, to lunch dates she tags Lena along to because she thinks Lena will forget to eat otherwise.

Once, after a successful extraction of one of Lena’s children, a somber Kara brings a small bouquet of plumerias to the little girl’s empty room. She finds Lena sitting next to the child’s empty bed.

“I’m so sorry.” Kara plucks a single plumeria from the bouquet, before setting the flowers on the girl’s pillow.

Lena shakes her head, a serene smile on her face. “Don’t be. She’s free. She’s in a better place now.”

Kara, not understanding her words, gives her a sad smile. She takes Lena’s hand and presses the single plumeria into her fingers. “I’m sure she is.”

Every day, Lena fails to tell Kara the truth, wanting to prolong their time together. And most of all, wanting to spare Kara for just a little longer. Lena can’t bear the thought of being another person who adds to everything Kara’s gone through, of being the reason why that smile dims a little more, or worse, never appears again at all.

Her hesitation nearly costs them everything.

[cecedownbad]

Not Alone

Summary: Training to be an agent couldn't be any more hectic, or any less a pain in the ass. But a new change never hurt anyone, say, what if that change was a person?

Word count: 1.4k

Warning: Not proofread, fluff, may have written less Leon content than I should have but such is the freedom of writing, can't write combat for shit, no Y/N. GN! Reader.

You can imagine RE2 Leon for this cause it's pre RE4R, that is up to you tho!

Enjoy

The locker room was silent, the subtle creaks of the old hinges were all that caught one's ear. Sitting alone by the benches, a deep breath in, and one out. This was it, time for another round of getting your ass beat.

You slowly force yourself to get up, clenching your fists and gnawing on the inner side of your mouth because here comes another day, another wonderful training session right after your measly breakfast and early morning jog, it's a start to your daily routine. A very shitty daily routine.

"Okay, okay, I practiced last night, this shouldn't be hard, remember to block their hits." With a huff, your hands reach for the door knob and slowly turn it open, hoping that you were miraculously early and no one bothered to get into uniform, you quickly raise your head to see three other trainees, all waiting for the day to start. Two were doing warm up exercises, a few stretches and one was jogging in place, the third one had closed his eyes and holding a training knife in his hands.

You scan the room for any more visitors but there weren't any so you made your way to a corner and began doing a few sets, some planks and push-ups. Going rather smoothly, you trusted yourself to be able to handle doing a push up using one hand. Having done it before, a set of 20 was easy enough to accomplish with a single hand keeping you balanced.

The next part of your warm up, or this practice before the real one starts was working on one on one defence, hand to hand combat was what you struggled with. Throwing a mean punch was not all it took to get by around here, defence was important and although you were great at handling weapons, the sniper rifle being your best, hand to hand combat goes a long way.

You closed your eyes, keeping your breath steady and guarded your body, setting the stature in a solid form, one that was known to hardly break. Breathe in, breathe out, this was going well enough, imagining an opponent in place of the dummy had set things in motion for you.

You were ready to kick the dummy in the side, lifting your leg you packed as much force you could pivot your leg and waited for the dummy to bend to the other open side. However, your leg was stopped half way, not even fully reaching the dummy. You harshly pulled your captured limb free and found the cause of the disruption standing ahead of you. " We're rounding up, calling your name didn't work." The man honing a sharp side part hair dusted his hand off, wearing the same uniform as you did but he carried himself like that of an already experienced agent.

Leon was his name, being whispered about in hallways, nightly playing card sessions, the most predictable area were the bathrooms. He didn't say much, nor did he seem like he wanted to, but the first person you see in the mornings, at even the ungodliest hours were this man. He would be pacing, training by himself or simply reading a book. A natural wall was built around his corner, and only a stubborn few would cross it. Nothing about him was innately alarming. Personal space and time alone is what everyone here needs, but you question your findings at times, does this man ever sleep?

Wiping away your sweat with your hand towel, you gather with the rest of them, standing at ease as the senior agent did his daily checks.

After which, you begrudgingly head on to your station, reluctantly grabbing your training knife. A close up knife fight was another detail you, although struggling, and trying impossibly hard to retain the positions, keeping the knife close at your side while avoiding openings was your most called out flaw. Training alone has its perks but with no one to correct you, or willing to do so, unawareness of improvement came at a price.

Together with the other trainees, you go over the stances, holding a tight grip over your training knife. Your non-dominant hand raised to protect your fatal spots and the dominant one pointed forward, carrying the weapon.

It was time to turn to training with a partner and with your, in a word, hapless moment, you were left scanning for an opponent. That was till you felt a palm tap on your shoulder, and still guarded, you elbow the rather unfortunate fool behind you, hearing a low grunt escape from them. Facing the cause of the sound, it was Leon, though not crippled on the floor from the knock on the side of his abdomen, he still held his side, huffing.

"Crap, you alright?"

"Don't worry about it, I can walk this one off."

"I am so sorry!"

"It's fine, should have called out to you instead."

He gathered himself better after that and got readied up for training. "I suppose you don't mind if we exchange introductions?" This was momentary but who wouldn't love a good, what is your favourite colour session? Audibly and rather in amusement, he let out a chuckle, subtle yet breathy, "An introduction? since when did this place have a need for that?" This was all too entertaining for him, a person in this heartless hole wants to pretend to exchange friendly banter, a first but that was all he has assumed in his own experiences.

"Then, Kennedy-" you eyed the name woven on his uniform, "Let's get started, I'd prefer it if you didn't outright kill me." A smile formed on your face, one that held behind an expression of interest to the man before you.

"Let's."

You circled in, eyeing his movements, holding your breath. You hated all of this, anxiety spewed falsehoods into your brain in plagues of what ifs or maybes. The sweat streaming down your back sent a shiver to your spine, not obvious but enough for you to step forward, causing a flow of reactions from Leon, it wasn't your intention to make the first move but that set things in motion. You aimed for his neck but he was quick to deflect, a clatter of metal startled you but just as your hand slipped, he quickly went in for a place around your ribs.

That motion scared you but be it a fight or flight instinct, you used your legs to tip him over. A faint attempt, he caught on quickly and stepped aside at the perfect moment. This continued on for a while, you made attempts, he deflected, you would narrowly escape his attacks and finally, that was when you called it a quits.

Chugging the water to where your items were placed, the scenes of where possible mistakes were made replayed in your mind, that was how you would critique and better yourself at the company of nothing but the room and the soft breaths after harsh training. "Do you train a lot?" A question passed on from the man that almost could have killed you, if this were an actual knife fight of course.

"Yeah, by myself most of the time, why? Did I do something I shouldn't have, was I too slow? Hold on—"

"No, it wasn't bad, mind if I suggest something?" He stepped closer, hair long that you could see it grazed his nose. This was the first time you could get a proper look at him, eyes a deep blue with a hint of grey that traced the edges of the blue. His lashes lay long on his lids, they were enviously beautiful, his nose was thin but the creases around it had shaped them well. You could gaze at him for a well deserved period, only now realising that his features speak stories of their own fortitude. "Ahem, Y-Yeah sure, what is it?" Holding in your curiosity, you continue the conversation.

"Mind if I join you? I think we'd make a great team." He stated, raising excitement with his tone. "That would be awesome! This is...just for training though right?" You questioned. "Yeah, I mean, only if you're interested, we could handle more than just knife combat, what do you say?" His lips stretch out so slightly, parting to a smile that was so quick to lose sight of. "Sure, I'm in!"

You raise your arm, hand extended to shake his own to form a unit, which he gladly accepted. Was this the start of no more horrible routines? The man entailed in whispers was now your acquaintance, the very man you had only seen but never initiated a definite greeting is now your training buddy. This was new, and with how you took notice of his features, he too seemed curious about the person that he could only manage to glance at, wondering, when do they ever sleep?

"So...do I keep calling you Kennedy or is it time for introductions?"

[dairy-farmer]

After checking the Hentai Tropes page for inspiration? I'ma combine two!

First? You know what Gotham has a CONCERNING number of? Cults. And those weirdos sure do love to go all "sacrifice our enemies for poetic blahdy blah!". It's a problem. What's a BIGGER problem is Robin getting captured for Virgin Sacrificing, just.... CONSTANTLY.

Dick handled that on his own, Jason wasn't by the time they met, and Tim? Tim still is. Which means Bruce has to talk about it. Make a list of options ahead of time for him. Which is his own person HELL. Because? His paranoia keeps getting the better of him.

Who can he trust? Who isn't some convoluted Villian plant or in the underworld's pocket? Is garuteed clean. Will take care of Tim. Not traumatize him for life. Not spread this to the newspapers. Not-. So forth and so on. The list of Viable options shrinking and shrinking. Until it's basically him and Dick.

And he can't ask DICK to do this! It's... morally questionable.

So he... handles it.

Pulls Tim aside. Small and trusting. Warm and hanging off his every word. Feels like a pervert, as he explains. Shudders as Tim see nothing amiss. Believes his paper thin justifications. Legitimate as they may be. Guides Tim into one of the nap rooms in the cave.

Is so, so careful with him.

It's perverse. Tim's little squirms and gasps. The way he clings. Asks if he's "doing it right". What can Bruce do? But lean into him. Loom. Whisper instruction and praise. He's doing so well. Spread just a bit wider. Take just a bit more. That's it. Good boy. Good Robin.

He takes him so well.

Bruce barely seems to fit. Tim gasping for air, his insides full in a way he's never felt before. Dripping with wet and lubricant. A soaked mess that paints his little thighs. Guts rearranged to make room, everything grinding and rubbing so good. Bruce makes sure to grind his thumb against that little clit. Rock slow, to get his used to it.

Soon has him scrambling at Bruce's arm's. Franticly begging for it, as Bruce snaps his hips, in and out without mercy. A drooling, teary, little mess, overwhelmed by how good it feels to get fucked. Bruce promised himself. He did. That he'd stop at Tim's orgasm. Gentle for his first time.

But his magnificent little hole milks him like nothing has in years.

He drags several out of Tim's poor virgin body. Leaving him shaking, begging to rest. But he ruts one last time before cumming deep. Dragging Tim up to squeeze tight. Bury his face in that precious little head of hair. His boy. His Robin. His, his, his.

Tim, predictably passes out from exhaustion. While Bruce cleans him up. Touch kinder and more possessive then before. They move on. Neither talking about it. Because Bruce won't LET them. It's fine.

Then? Titans tower. Injuries.

The difference? This time Tim ALSO got a blow to the head. Troupe two! He wake up with Amnesia! Gasp! Doctors say it's temporary! But? How long is temporary? An hour? A week? A few years? What DOES he remeber?

That Bruce is "important to his life" and his Boyfriend, obviously!

People go apeshit.

Bruce damage controls like a badass. Spins like weavers WISH they could. Manages to take Tim home before anyone can ask any clarifying questions. HE asks the clarifying questions. Tim remembers they slept together.

Fuck.

Bruce goes to correct him. But Tim... hugs him first. Is so, so grateful he's HERE. Would be so SCARED and LOST without him. And...it....it's a small lie... right? Tim will figure things out on his own. This is fine.

But of course.

They're BOYFRIENDS... aren't they?

Why won't Bruce touch him? Is he mad? Did Tim do something wrong? Cuddling is nice and all... but...

So it's either come clean or fuck his son. And Bruce? Well he couldn't forget how GOOD it felt. How bad he wants it. So he Makes Love to his boyfriend of course. Kissing, licking, sucking, pinching, and fucking right through the mattress.

It jostled some things loose, as it were. Tim remembers more.

But? Keeps it to himself.

Because he has Bruce paying attention to him now. There is an unknown child, Bruce's biological son, now in the house. He needs to Plot. Can afford to let the kid be Robin for a bit. Play amnesiac househusband/bedwarmer. All he needs to do? Is get Bruce hopelessly addicted to him. THEN "remember".

He has a plan.

Tim is GOING to marry that trainwreck and get fucked on the regular or so help him, somebody dies. Now, time to go win over the blood son...

-🐼🐼🐼

amnesia trope is soooo good!!! bruce taking tim's virginity to protect him and then never speaking about it again and then tim only being able to remember that until his memories come back and he decides that actually he's going to stick with this and be bruce's wife

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 12 - Prompt: Question @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 624 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius looked over his shoulder with a smug grin and an arched eyebrow. He’d clearly caught Remus’s avid nodding at his admission. Remus smirked back at him, trying to ignore the twist in his gut every time Sirius smiled at him.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

Remus blinked rapidly, then nodded again. “Go on.”

“Do you like living here?”

Of all the inquiries that Sirius could aim his way, that was one that Remus wasn’t expecting. Based solely on the bloke’s tendency to stare at his scars, he was preparing for a little deflection of his own. Instead, he had to abruptly redirect his line of thought. He lived here because his parents did. It wasn’t an intentional decision on his part to be born in this specific town. Although, he supposed staying here was a choice.

“Not especially. I’ve just never had a compelling reason to leave. My parents live here, and so does Lily.”

“Not for long!” Lily interjected, pointing at him. “Only a matter of time before I leave you for London.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Sure. You’ve been saying that for literal years, Lily. I think you’re stuck with me.”

“Nonsense! I just haven’t squirrelled away enough money yet.”

“I’ll hide in your luggage.”

Lily puffed air through her teeth. “Pfft, I’d like to see you try.”

“You have a lot of clothes to pack, I think I could manage it.”

Sirius glanced between them and laughed. “You two are as codependent as me and James.”

“Maybe more,” Lily said. “We grew up together. Remus is the brother I never needed.”

“And you’re the sister I didn’t want,” he snarked, dodging her hand swatting at him.

“Oh hush. You love me.”

Remus increased his stride and draped his forearms on her shoulders. “Now that’s true, but you can be bloody annoying.”

“Only because I’m always right.”

“Disturbingly so. You should be a fortune teller.”

Sirius watched him and Lily banter with a delighted grin on his face. His eyes flashed with an emotion Remus couldn’t quite identify at first. If he was pressed for a guess, he’d say…nostalgia. It was similar to the way that Lily watched Padfoot bound from the sand to the sea, likely thinking about her childhood dog, Rhett.

“I would rather read palms. That way, if they don’t like my predictions, I can say, ‘I’m simply reading what it says in your life line, darling,’” Lily said, adopting a deep, dramatic American accent. It reminded him a little of Judy Garland, his mum’s favourite.

“Clever. Plausible deniability.” Remus tapped her temple lightly. “You always think two steps ahead.”

Sirius’s pace slowed until he matched Remus’s stride. He ignored it. Remus didn’t want to expose how deeply he was already invested in Sirius’s every movement, facial expression, and the intonation of his voice. Not until he knew for sure that Sirius was actually interested. Otherwise, Lily said it was just a bit creepy.

I mean, I did look-up his social media last night. Maybe it’s time to embrace that I am a bit creepy.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, his creepy cyber stalking or the obsessive mental dossier he’d assembled of everything he’d learned about the man. At least he acknowledged the need to conceal it. People did tend to find his fixations strange unless they were dating. Then, it was “romantic” and “thoughtful” that he could recall their favourite childhood television show that was mentioned off-handedly two years ago.

It was an unusual skill, to be fair. Remus thought he would have been quite good on those old newlywed game shows. Even if they weren’t married, he’d get every question right.

I know who you are. I just wish you’d see me too.

Next Part>>>

[mybrokenveins3000]

Freshers - College!Ross Macdonald

A/N: HII!! This is my first time writing anything on Tumblr, let alone the 1975 related. I hope you guys like it. Ignore how my grammar is all over the place, quotation marks and commas confuse me.

I move to university in about two weeks, I doubt anything like this will happen, but a girl can dream. Anyways, enjoy! Also, this is dedicated to @hypersonic04 <3

word count: 1.6k

♫ My Funny Girl - Harry Teardrop // Eighteen - Pale Waves

It's almost been a month since you moved to the city for university. Tonight, you're at a coursemate's flat for Pres. Trashy guilty-pleasure pop blasts through the speakers and you're busy avoiding people, drinking by the window. You watch the condensation trail behind a departing aeroplane over the cityscape. You're thinking about where you are now, the kind of people you brush shoulders with, and how easy it is to feel so desperately alone out here.

Despite the air of maturity and the swill of liquor in your mouth, it always shocked you how laughably predictable university boys can be - especially those on your Film course. It's been a month and you're already bored by the typical film bro spiel of "why Tarantino is the best director of all time" and how "there's something manic pixie dream girl about you".

Speaking of, you feel a tall, masculine shadow cast over you interrupting your intense thinking. Cue the "what's your favourite film" question, you think to yourself.

"What's your favourite film?"

Right, here we go again.

"Depends. Who's asking?" you laugh to yourself, still watching that blinking plane.

"Um, me." Now that felt more like a question.

"And, who are you?" You whip around and see a tall boy in a black hoodie. Who is this? He's cute... is your immediate response to the stranger.

You playfully prod at him with your empty solo cup, "Youuu are not on my course."

He laughs gently, casting his eyes to the floor. Despite his shy cadence, there's an effortlessness and confidence about him that is rare to find among these overgrown teenagers. "No, I'm not. I do History."

You squint and he senses your confusion about his presence at a Film student function.

"I came with him", he gestures over to the couch. The scantily clad, mop-headed, binge-drinking, serial flirt, Matty Healy, lounges across your girl friends' legs. You scowl. You and Matty have argued in and out of every seminar you've ever shared. It surprised you that someone like the boy in front of you was here with him.

"He actually told me to ask that question"

"Hm?"

"Your favourite film? He said it's a good conversation starter but I'm beginning to think," he makes a note of your comically disappointed expression, "that he is very, very wrong"

He smiles at you. You can't help but smile back at him. The image of him preparing to talk you flashes in your mind. You smile harder.

"Roman Holiday", he leans over to hear you better over the drowning sound of pop, exposing his neck and the chain dangling around it. "My favourite film is Roman Holiday"

"Never heard of it--"

"YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF ROMAN HOLIDAY?!?!" He certainly didn't need to lean in to hear that. He laughs at the inner film nerd in you coming out.

In that moment, he could see it. You and his best friend having passive-aggressive discussions during seminars. It's stupid to admit the twinge of jealousy he felt at the idea. I mean, you had only just met. Maybe it's the alcohol or Teenage Dream on the speaker, maybe he wants to see that enthusiasm and hear you talk about films forever and ever.

"Maybe we could watch it sometime."

It doesn't help that you blush easily. You can see yourself now, a vision in bright red.

"Does that line work for every girl?"

"I don't know, I haven't used it before," he smiles and rakes a hand through his hair. Fuck.

Wait, let's not get ahead of ourselves. "Who are you again?" you ask before you can glow any brighter.

"I'm Ross."

You reply with your name and extend your free hand to shake his.

The speakers go quiet over this exchange. A drunken voice exclaims "RIGHT, LET'S GO!" followed by peals of laughter and excitement.

You look at each other, hand in hand, knowing that you just started something good. Something good that you don't want to infect with even louder music, sweaty bodies and strobe lights - not now at least. If only Pres could last forever. You let go of his hand.

People flood out of the flat, but a girl friend of yours whose flat this is hangs back when she sees the pair of you not moving.

"Hey, could we stay here actually?" you tell her.

Having hosted so many film parties and Pres, she knows you're usually the first out of the door. She knows that you never do this or feel this, especially not for boys you've only met. But there's something about him and this squeezing in your heart. You don't want him to leave you.

She smiles, turning the speakers back on, the volume set to low. It's Boom Clap by Charli XCX. You wouldn't know this 'til much later, but she thinks you two make a good couple. "You don't need a key to leave and the door locks by itself, so feel free to stay."

Before she disappears out the door, Ross exclaims "Take care of Matty!!"

"No promises!!" she shouts back.

---

Saturday bleeds into Sunday. You're sitting on the floor with a boy you just met. He does History, you do Film. The Bluetooth speaker died in the middle of Colors by Halsey, but you both were too engrossed in conversation to realise it.

The October wind picked up, tossing the plastic cups across the room, but he was too busy looking at you, how the air danced and played with your hair. Neither of you could figure out how to close the window, you were both guests here after all. When he noticed you shivering, his black hoodie immediately came off. He blushed as you put it on, how the sleeves extended past your hands. It was hard for you not to hug yourself and take in his smell of petrichor and aftershave in its entirety. It was hard for him not to hug you.

By this point, you could name all his favourite teachers from secondary school and why the 1900s was his favourite century. He could list your top 10 films in order and the details about your hometown that you love. He recounts what it was like growing up in Wilmslow with Matty. You never knew Wilmslow ever existed, you never knew anyone's words could soften you to Matty.

As he speaks, you notice the distant whir of passing cars, the wind, the hum of the light bulb, and how this is all so tragically and desperately transient.

"What's wrong?" he asks as if he has known you a long time. He has made a note of how expressive you are, how whatever you're thinking or feeling is easy to detect just by looking at your face. You wouldn't know it, but he decides right then and there that he wants to recognise every micro-expression your face could make.

"I like talking to you," you admit, almost sadly.

"I like talking to you, too."

You glance out the window. "But you do know what they say about the people you meet in the first semester," they don't stay.

"Yeah, yeah, I do know, but" he delicately places his hand on your knee, "you're someone people want to keep."

Silence. There's an unspoken force about the two of you. It encourages you to submit to the endearing teenage stupidity and rash decision-making.

"You're someone I want to keep," he says finally. Whilst your eyes, tipsy and excited, have been jumping from surface to surface, his has been fixed on you the entire night.

A thump from the front door interrupts the moment followed by crashing and inelegant, drunken moaning.

"Ohmygod you guys are STILL HERE?!?!" screams that coursemate of yours, popping her head through the door. "MATTY, THEY'RE STILL HERE!"

A tiny "ᶠᵁᶜᴷ" can be heard from another room. You and Ross laugh to yourselves, not surprised by the scene unraveling before you two.

"You know I love you guys but do you mind fucking off?"

Ross is already stood up and helps you onto your feet. You could get used to this. You plant a chaste kiss on her sweaty forehead followed by "You know I love you. Use protection."

"Have fun, mate!" Ross yells down the corridor as you make your way to the door.

"ᶠᵁᶜᴷ ʸᴼᵁ"

---

You strike yourself as more tipsy than you realise as you wiggle the door handle and cry, "OHMYGOD, IT DOES LOCK ON ITS OWN!!"

And he's looking at you, smiling that same warm smile, as you get excited over a door. You're still wearing his hoodie.

You notice him staring, "what?"

"Nothing"

"You look like you want to say something?" He takes in a breath and shrugs. "If you wanna say something, just say it," you laugh.

To that, he lifts up your chin with his finger and kisses you.

As soon as he backs away, you toss your arms around his neck and inelegantly smash your face onto his. You can feel him smiling as you kiss. His arms pull you closer at the waist, hands underneath his hoodie.

"I've been waiting to do that all night," he whispers as you pull away. The streetlights and skyscrapers blink through the windows of the dimly lit corridor. Only this time in the face of the city, you don't feel alone anymore.

"Are you busy today?" he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You're still slung around his neck. It's all stupidly endearingly familiar, but also so new. You kiss through the conversation.

"No, no, not busy... do need to do my laundry though."

"Good, so do I." You silently agree to do it together.

You take his hand in yours and walk down the stairs.

"I'm someone you wanna keep, huh?"

"You're someone I wanna keep."

[linkspooky]

Spoilers if you still haven't read the new jjk leaks so...

I really cant believe that your prediction of Gojo's battle ending up like Kaneki's beatdown has come full circle...my God even the one where he is lying dead chopped up with no arms and legs is exactly the same.

What are your thoughts on the conclusion of this battle or the whole progression of the story rn,because this really cemented Gege's bad writing at its finest for me.Such a lamest and most underwhelming death granted to one of the most well written character of the series with an offscreen death coupled with his whole afterlife dialogues dickriding Sukuna saying he wouldn't have stood a chance even without sukuna using 10s when the whole battle contradicts this,then Nanami telling Gojo that they always knew Gojo was a battle junkie and didn't care for others,committing a massive character assassination.Just why did Gege had to butcher his character this much?Im so livid right now with the way his death was executed and Gojo's character arc without achieving anything in his life and says he doesn't have any regrets and satisfied? I decided to drop the series because this all left a sour taste in my mouth and knows that there are more ridiculous asspulls to come in the future.But there are some theories going online saying Gojo will come back by rebirth or as a vengeful spirit by going North and correlating to the Lotus flowers in the panels.I still dont believe this will happen since Gege ruined the character for good,but I need to know your predictions on this one too to huff on my tiny amount of copium.

I CALLED IT! *EVERYONE BEGINS HIGH FIVING ME*

Besides the fact that I have proven without a doubt that I can see the future and therefore I can tell everyone with confidence Megumi will live until the end of the manga (this is a joke, or is it?), I have some more to say on the rest of your ask anon.

I'm not going to comment on whether or not I think this is good or bad writing. For me the question is not "is Gojo's death written well?" but rather "What does Gojo's death mean for the story?"

I'll address some parts of your ask and remember I'm not really agreeing or disagreeing with you, just trying to analyze why Gege made the story choices that he did.

with an offscreen death coupled with his whole afterlife dialogues dickriding Sukuna saying he wouldn't have stood a chance even without sukuna using 10s when the whole battle contradicts this

In this case I believe Gege offscreening the death is a pretty classic bait and switch. It happens exactly the same way that Kaneki's fight happens in chapter 143 of Tokyo Ghoul: Re, we as the audience see a build up to a big climactic fight between Kaneki and Juzou two of the most powerful characters in the manga only to literally skip the entire fight and show it's conclusion: Kaneki limbless on the ground.

It inspired a huge controversy back in the old days of the Tokyo Ghoul fandom too, imagine if instead of just skipping the final moment of the fight we skipped the ENTIRE fight between Gojo and Sukuna. Just Nah, I'll Win *Smash Cut to Gojo cut in half* The last chapter also ends with this, declaring Gojo's victory.

My friend Comun said basically after this Gojo was guaranteed to lose because in shonen manga the second a character is entertain that they'll win they have the rug pulled out from underneath them. It's the same reason that when you're making a plan to have a heist in a heist movie you whisper it at first instead of explaining the whole plan ahead of time. If you just explain the whole plan and everything goes according to plan you've spoiled your own story.

In other words the classic bait and switch the audience is led to believe one thing and then slapped in the face with something else. This is just my justification for why I think the ending to the fight is offscreened, the same way it is for Kaneki's fight with Juzou, it's almost parodying battle shonen. Jujutsu Kaisen is a story where characters fight, and Gojo and Sukuna is one of the most hyped up fights in the manga, but the fight is not the most important part the characters are. Fight mechanics are important to the story, but they don't trump everything else so less important to the question of how Gojo lost, or even seeing his loss onscreen is the question of why he lost.

In my opinion the reason Gojo lost is because he was fighting for the wrong reasons, he cared far more about winning a satisfying fight then he did saving Megumi the kid he was responsible for. Gojo is kind of like the audience, he cares more about the battle aspect of shonen manga then the characters, so the author denies both Gojo and the readers their climax.

This is what we call an Anti-Climax.

As a result, the subversion of the climax, the Anticlimax, is probably almost as old. The anticlimax is when you're set up for a climax, such as a spectacular, battle-to-end-all-battles between the hero and the villain. It's built up more and more until the suspense is extremely exciting, and the reader/viewer can't wait for it...then the hero kills the villain in one hit, or the villain spontaneously drops dead [...] Anticlimaxes can work well if it's clear that the subversion of audience expectations is the point, either for humorous purposes [...] or as a more serious commentary on the genre of the work.

It's alright if you're disappointed though because fights are one of the main draws of the series, I'm just explaining the trope that's at work here. As for Gojo saying he wouldn't have stood a chance against Sukuna if he was going all-out I'm not sure precisely that's what he said. He just says he's unsure he would have beaten him even without the ten-shadows, that it would have been close. It's also not completely out of left field that Gojo found Sukuna challenging.

We are told beforehand that Sukuna is holding back a move, because Gojo only has to defeat Sukuna, while Sukuna has to do a boss-rush marathon and beat Gojo and everyone who comes after him. We also receive this piece of foreshadowing, Sukuna saying "Very Good" after Mahoraga succesfully cleaves off Gojo's arm which was likely him learning the technique that he'd use to finish Gojo. He even called Mahoraga his shadow.

Someone else pointed out that Sukuna was also winning the domain battles pretty thoroughly before Sukuna started to use the TenShadows in the fight so I don't think Gojo's statement of how he could have won with his techniques was that out of left field.

If it were not for Sukuna's whim of wanting to use Mahoraga, he would have beaten Satoru and it is even implied that Sukuna allowed himself to be hit so that Mahoraga would adapt to Satoru's infinity. Even in their activation of domains Gojo had to destroy and regenerate his brain five times while Sukuna didn't have this problem, this is because Sukuna didn't lose his domain as many times as Satoru because we must not forget that Sukuna's domain doesn't need barrier like Gojo's so it was easier to destroy Satoru's domain than Sukuna's.

Yet another person also pointed out that Gojo acting completely on top of his game the whole fight and confident in his victory, and yet seemingly contradicting that at the end by saying he might have lost even if Sukuna didn't have the Ten SHadows makes sense if you consider the fact that Gojo was putting on a show for his students. He had to appear absolutely confident he was going to win in front of them to make them feel safe. Whereas, with Geto he's with a peer so he can be more honest about what he thought his chances were.

There's another shift after the opening stage of their fight in chapter 224. What always stuck out to me from that chapter was Gojo noticing that their fight was being broadcasted. After he spots Mei Mei's crows, Gojo never, not once, for the remainder of the fight expresses doubt in himself in any outward way. We see frustration, we see anger, we see surprise, but never doubt. Never worry. And what does he say as soon as he get's the upper hand in the fight?

As for the final part of your post:

Im so livid right now with the way his death was executed and Gojo's character arc without achieving anything in his life and says he doesn't have any regrets and satisfied?

I don't think Gojo said he was satisfied. In fact it's the opposite.

Gojo's unsatisfied because of two reasons, number one he wasn't able to push Sukuna into giving his all, and number two that Geto wasn't among the people who were saying goodbye to him before he went off to fight. I did an entire post, on why I don't think Gojo is satisfied with his death at all.

However, the TLDR: Version, Gojo could have chosen to fight for two things, number one to be the strongest and number two for the sake of his connections to other people. Gojo chooses the first and he fails at that. He's not only no longer the strongest but he couldn't give Sukuna the fight of his life. He's unsatisfied for that reason. He's also unsatisfied because he deliberately gave up all of his personal connections in life, and chose to only focus on being the strongest. Not only did he fail at being the strongest but he also lost Geto and practically everyone else. If he'd have chosen to fight for personal connections instead then maybe things would be different and Geto would still be alive, and he'd be more satisfied because he could have lived a life with genuine connections to other people, but that's not what he chose.

If anything I think it's there to connect him to TOji and the way they died. They both die offscreen and die standing on their feet. In Toji's final moments he thinks he only chose to fight for his personal pride but then Megumi flashes by his mind.

In Gojo's final moments he thinks about how much he regrets that he wasn't able to give Sukuna a true challenge, and then Geto flashes by his mind. He could have chosen to live for something other than pride, the same way Toji could have chosen to live as a father and that possibility flashes before their eyes before their deaths.

[sam-glade]

Happy STS!

Have you ever gotten decently far into a story and realized that your title made no sense? How much does your initial premise mean to the development of your story?

Hello, hello! Happy STS!

Oh wow do I have a story for you.

In general, I struggle with titles. It's one of these things I don't feel like I can judge well, whether it's corny, or catchy, or just boring.

So. I've written close to 400k words of Days of Dusk (just going by the latest completed drafts of all three books), before realising that the oldest, the very first title that I'm super attached to, no longer works.

This is going back... 12? years, when I started the first draft of Aftermath. Bear that title in mind. The concept/premise was: the typical YA fantasy teenage hero needs to deal with consequences of being a hero. Basically, put the arrogant guy in his place. Defeating the villain doesn't give him any actual leadership or strategy skills, and he's going to learn it the hard way.

I've written Aftermath and Prodigal Children, its sequel, as a duology. I've redrafted Aftermath about three times. I've then decided maybe I'll try publishing it, since it's a shame to keep it to myself. I wanted to share it with people!

Aftermath was never supposed to have the story that had led to it written down. The backstory was meant to be so typical and predictable that it didn't need writing down. A few friends have read Aftermath and have always known it as that. That's what it's always been.

And as I was polishing it, and trying to get it under 125k words, I started realising that the backstory of the hero's great deeds was becoming too nuanced and complicated to weave into the main plot.

All right. Fine, let's find another project to write, considering these lessons learnt.

It just so happened that I was off-work for health-related reason for all of January this year, and I was bored. So I wrote Gifts of Fate, as a self-indulgent, this-will-never-see-the-light-of-day story. I'm still incredibly proud to have completed a draft of 107k words in 6 weeks - sure, a lot of the behind the scenes work was done ahead of time, the setting and characters were developed already, but come on, putting over a 100k words into a doc in a month and a half?

And you know what, it worked better as a novel, in terms of structure and just craft. It was more focused, the themes were clear, it was shorter... It worked. Ok, it may be a little bit of a typical hero's journey, but still, it's a cohesive story, with hopefully enough of an individual take to be interesting.

I've started this blog in February, and I've started talking about the now-trilogy. And only then it struck me, Aftermath no longer works as a title. It looses the oomph. It's just a second book in a trilogy now, obviously it's an 'aftermath' to something.

It really didn't help that all the friends who've read it and been informed that a prequel now exists, unanimously and independently started calling the prequel (Gifts of Fate) 'Premath'😅

It took me until early June (as in, a couple of weeks ago) to come up with a new title for Aftermath (The Prince's Shadow), because titles are hard.

(I'm going to tag @writernopal who's expressed some interest in the injoke-y title 'Premath' and also add Days of Dusk taglist for the meta-lore: @acertainmoshke @another-white-hole @poetinprose )

[f0point5]

So when talking about 2023 I think the idea isn’t that Charles “dragged it up there” in term of speed. The SF-23 was considered fast in qualifying like you said because it didn’t have to deal with its tire degradation.

Instead he dragged it up there because the SF-23 was a car that has the fraises: “notoriously unpredictable”, “unreliable”, “chronic understeer mid-corners”, “instability”, “unwanted moment under breaking”, “complicated” all attributed to its name when it came to its behaviour and drivability.

In other words: Ferrari have often produced a fast car. That doesn’t mean the cars haven’t got a history of being shitboxes in nearly every other departments.

The amount of times post testing, qualifying, race you would have Charles and/or Carlos saying that neither they nor the team really understood why the car behaved as it did, both when it was good (aka the surprise that was Mexico qualifying, just giving it your all and for once have the car compliying) and when it was bad (see: Charles in Spain actually questioning if there’s was something seriously wrong with the car because of how badly it was behaving, and the mechanics and engineers not finding that unrealistic/believing him because their also didn’t understand the car). Even at the end of the year this was still a problem (looking at Abu Dhabi qualifying Q3 Charles first lap time).

To top that off the only way for the SF-23 to be somewhat predictable was with an understeer setup, which is the exact opposite setup of what Charles drives with.

None of this spell out a car which you, at speeds of 350 km/h throwing it around corners cm for the wall, would fully trust, feel comfortable or even be capable of giving and maintaining control of that extra insane push which is needed for a pole position.

Yet he managed 5 poles, the same amount of poles as the rest of the grid (minus max) combined.

Considering all this is I think why many agree with the sentiment that putting that car on pole is in deed “dragging it up there” when dealing with 1) a car you hate (he actually confirmed it’s testing was the worst testing of his carrier, even though he drove the awful SF1000 from 2020). 2) the disadvantage of spending so much of practice trying a large amount of setups because the car just won’t work with the type you usually have, and on top of that is so intolerant that it has trouble working with most setups in general (and starting this process all over again every race, because again no one really understands the car so who knows how it will behave on a different track) . And 3) a car that despite all that effort still is extremely unpredictable.

This came out very matter of fact but is meant as a different point of view.

Fair points. Although there were moments where the unpredictability/lack of trust in the car led to Charles binning it, which to my recollection Carlos didn’t.

I still think on his best day, Charles is the fastest of the grid over one lap. I do think the importance of that is overstated by a lot of his fans though. Because they don’t hand out points for breaking the sound barrier when 19 other cars are getting out of the way for you.

In equal machinery (by this I mean machinery equally optimised for the driver’s preferences), there’s still a few drivers I would put ahead of Charles in a title fight just in terms of their mentality, and their completeness as drivers over a season. And I think some of that is because Charles hasn’t had the experience of being in an efficient team, in the right car. There’s certain things you can only pick up when you’re in the best possible position. Regardless, I think there’s still space for growth. His talent is head and shoulders above nearly everyone on the grid, but as a complete package idk if I’d say he was.

I’m interested to see what he does with the car this year considering he was so positive after testing.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 9, "Run Away Little Boy"

You can read my previous reviews here.

You know what we haven't had the joy of experiencing in a couple of eps? Dean Forrester acting like a jealous, irrational fucklehead. This episode will deliver him in spades. Welcome back, Fucklehead. Welcome back. This episode is a real doozy.

It's Henry! Yay! We stan Henry/ship Henry & Lane here at TWWGG. We learn Tristan has just returned from school after he was suspended. He fell in with some bad apples who aided him in taking apart and re-assembling a teacher's car inside of the school hallway. Huh? But actually, they just paid some mechanics to do it? Double huh? So he literally OUTSOURCED a prank? Jess Mariano would NEVER.

While attempting to enjoy a burrito in peace at the Business School vending machines, Lorelai encounters a time traveling bro from the distant 2010's who entertains her with unsolicited conspiracy theories about how one day we're all going to be slaves to machines, cut off from human contact. Hey, wait a minute... Lorelai brushes his off his totally inaccurate prediction.

Nothing I'd love to experience more than going on a date with a 24 year old dudebro who will unload conspiracy theories on me for 2 hours while I try to eat. Let's delve into the Rory portion of this episode. English teacher gives the class an assignment to form groups and act out a scene from Romeo & Juliet. Predictably, Rory ends up with Paris, Louise, and Madelyn (and eventually, Brad), with Paris at the helm of the group, being her usual godawful nightmare self, and they eventually end up at Rory's house to work on the project.

Why does this feel familiar? Oh, yes. It's because in the not so distant past, Paris, Rory, Louise and Madelyn were forced to work together on a school project where they had to form a government with Paris at the helm, being her godawful nightmare self and ended up at Rory's house to work on the project. Diet Logan (aka Tristan) barges into the first planning session of the play at school and through the art of some manipulative mental gymnastics (MMG) he hijacks the part of Romeo away from Brad, leaving Rory to end up as Juliet to Diet Logan's Romeo, much to Rory's displeasure. "Diet Logan & Juliet" just doesn't have the same ring to it. Louise: I can be Juliet. Paris: You can't be Juliet. Juliet is supposed to be chaste. OUCH. Sookie to Michel after presenting him with a plate of blueberry pancakes: "Raise your right hand and say, "May Destiny's child break up if I count these blueberries." It took another 6 years for Destiny's Child to break up, but still. I guess he counted the blueberries.

Wow, this shirt is the most gorgeous color. It's true, she does name everything, including Luke's toolbox. Speaking of. We interrupt this squeaky clean WB Network show for another extended conversation involving penis metaphors. Lorelai is talking to Sookie about moving on from Max to going out to dinner with the Time Traveler.

Lorelai: We have this bit going about me stealing his burrito. Sookie: "Stealing his burrito"? Oh, you kids! Lorelai: No, a real burrito. Sookie: You've stolen his burrito! Rory is telling Lorelai that the theater group has decided to meet at her house (again), which means Diet Logan will be coming to town, so, sadly and predictably, Rory is now fretting over Diet Logan running into Dean and telling him that they kissed at that party and that Dean will be upset that Rory was hiding it from him, so she has to get ahead of DL and tell Dean first. Run, Rory, run...ahhh. Fuck it. I give up. You're on your own girl. Lorelai: Try it out on me first. Pretend I'm Dean.

The only person who'd ever dare to utter such cursed words. I'm surprised she didn't open up some portal to the Underworld by saying that out loud.

No, that won't do it. Try to sound more constipated.

But it's always a good time for Dean to yell at Rory, right Mom?

Lorelai: I know you are Miss Honesty, I've seen the banner. But this is going to screw up this really good thing you have going right now! I swear for someone who is all up in every inch of Rory's business it feels like Lorelai lives on another planet from her daughter and not the same house. Lorelai then proceeds to do the worst Dean/ JarPad impression in the history of ever, turning him into some deep voiced narcissist obsssed with his hair who says "cool" over and over? I'll cut her some slack. It is pretty hard to do an impression of someone with no personality whatsoever. Let me try: *deep voice* I built you a car! I wear the same stupid leather jacket every day that probably smells! Saying I love you doesn't get you pregnant! My mom cooks dinner for us every night! Hur hur hur. Better.

Coping tactics while watching episodes with both Dean and Diet Logan. Rory: Where's Tristan? Louise: He went to the market for cigarettes. As if we didn't already know he was bad. Sooo bad he has to outsource his pranks. Can anyone else actually picture Taylor Doose selling cigarettes? He sells pregnancy tests and that already feels too scandalous for Taylor and Stars Hollow. No less "illicit substances" like tobacco.

*long agonized groan of despair* Both of you should jump on the Tide Pod craze 15 years ahead of time.

Wowwww. I have no words. (Diet Logan is the flour dropper).

Uh oh, DL. Dean's doing that thin-lipped thing again. You should be scared.

This little shit. This little bug. I want to squash him under my shoe. Gonna call this the Rinse and Repeat becasue it happens in every episode: Rory swoops in and drags Dean outside. Having heard almost none of the conversation happening between DL and Dean, she makes an assumption that they were arguing about her, and immediately starts apologizing profusely to Dean. While his lips get super thin and his face gets scowly and constipated. He blathers angrily at her for having the gall not to tell him she was in a play with a male classmate (we didn't even get to the part about the kissing yet).

Dean's mom should have swallowed. Then Dean threatens to strangle DL to death with his apron strings because that's very a rational response to hearing that your girlfriend is in a fictional, mandatory school play with a classmate. Although I'm not gonna lie, I was mere seconds away from writing that I hoped Dean would get strangled by his stupid apron. I'm allowed to think he should drink laundry detergent. It's okay when I think it.

Rinse and Repeat. No really. This is just so, so sad. Let me guess, Lorelai's going to hear what happens later and she'll think Dean's reaction sounded cute. I'm putting my money down on this. Let me repeat: Rory is not apologizing to Dean for for kissing DL. She still hasn't told him about that yet. She's apologizing to Dean because she was given a school project which is 50% of her grade to put on a scene from a play where Romeo was originally going to be Brad, and she never wanted Tristan in the play in the first place, he hijacked it and forced his way in. She forgot to tell Dean she would be working on a school project with a classmate Dean doesn't happen to like and who is a male. That is why she's apologizing.

Me putting a whole two dollars on Lorelai having a completely wrong reaction to the events that are unfolding.

Little too late, Bucko. Your mom should have a retroactive abortion. This tactic Dean always uses on Rory where he belittles her and then when he runs out of steam he suddenly does a u-turn, gets all "nah I guess it's not your fault actually" all fake-like with contempt for her in his voice gives me chills. It's manipulative, and abusive.

Look at this pathetic puppy face after Dean treats her like dog shit and then tries to kiss her like nothing happened! This is the most pitiful thing I've ever seen. Why am I in tears for her! She's fictional! Ahhhh! Dean tells Rory he's going to take a walk and she has to kick DL out of the store herself. I hope Dean encounters a rabid mountain lion on his walk. A mountain lion with a taste for the flesh of teenage boys who treat their girlfriends like last week's garbage.

Here it comes. *grabs a bag of vintage Doritos and waits in fevered anticipation for whatever idiotic thing is about to come out of Lorelai's mouth*

No alarm bells whatsoever are going off in Lorelai's mind that her teenage daughter had to "pull apart" her boyfriend and her classmate to prevent them from fighting. Again, this is the second time in a short period of time that Dean and Tristan nearly killed each other. Lastly, what Rory actually says here is "I pulled them apart without any bloodshed." Allow me to summarize Lorelai's response:

Heh heh. I win. *collects money*

Guess the mountain lion spat him out.

Damn too bad you didn't choke on a chicken bone.

We're well aware of his domestic mother. Try to keep up with the rest of the class, Lorelai. Rory (like she's just learning this today as well): That's so nice. Uh?

Dean insists on attending the play reharsals even though Rory and Lorelai repeatedly try to tell him she doesn't need him there. Lorelai just smiles at it all and says "Dean is fine" as he gets up to leave. So now not one but two people have hijacked their way into this play against Rory's will. (later): Rory to Tristan: Dean's coming to rehearsal tonight. DL: Can they spare him? I heard they're having a run on baked beans. That's such a stupid comeback but I'm heartily laughing. Just sitting here thinking about stupid Dean Forrester the stock boy stacking cans of beans, and then maybe the cans topple over and suffocate him and then they bring in those dogs that sniff for people buried under rubble and even though the dogs find him they pretend they don't and ignore him.

Again, I'm going to miss the Rory that says "shut up" to people. Rory asks Diet Logan not to tell Dean that they kissed at Madelyn's party, but DL didn't even remember it happened, so if she had just kept her mouth shut things would be hunky dory. My girl really just dug her own grave here. DL: I won't tell Dean, he's gonna find out anyway. As soon as he sees us kiss on stage it's gonna be pretty obvious it's not the first time. I'm a good actor but I can't hide that kind of passion. I hope a wall of lockers topples on top of him, and then they bring the dogs in that sniff out bodies that are buried underneath the rubble, but they ignore him, and... etc. etc. etc. Ran out of screen shots, part 2 in another post, you know the drill.

[bigbroemen]

沼・山・海・谷にいる numa・yama・umi・tani ni iru

４人の人たち・・・はやく yonin no hitotachi ・・・ hayaku

ココに・・・連れてきて・・・・ koko ni ・・・ tsuretekite ・・・・

---

沼 numa - swamp

山 yama - mountain

海 umi - sea, ocean

谷 tani - valley, canyon

に ni - location marker; in x に y, y is located in or on x

いる iru - to be (of animate objects); to exist

４人 yonin - 4 people, "yo" being 4 and "nin" being the counter for people

人 hito - person

たち tachi - pluralizing suffix, primarily used for people and other animate things w behaviors

ひやく hayaku - adverb conjugation of はやい hayai - fast, quick

ココ koko - here, this place

(again) に ni - location marker; in x に y, y is located in or on x

連れて tsurete - te-form conjugation of 連れる tsureru - to take (someone) with; to bring along. te-form conjugation is being used to tack this verb onto another to create a compound verb

きて kite - te-form conjugation of くる/来る kuru - to come, to arrive. te-form conjugation is being used to convey the verb as a request/instruction

---

swamp・mountain・sea・valley in

4 people... hurry

here... come and bring them

the text is split up in a way that makes the sentence read a little more broken, heres reading it again without a line by line translation

4 people in swamp・mountain・sea・valley...

hurry　here... come and bring them

---

お久しぶり its been a long time since ive done one of these!!!!! i stopped for a long time because 1. they take so long to put together and i think i was just burnt out, despite how much fun i was having, and 2. i hit a point where i was able to fly through a Lot of dialogue without having to stop and learn new pieces, so a good portion of dialogue in games started becoming a lot less like new adventures and a lot more mundane and normal feeling!! that has actually been a very special feeling and ive just been letting myself enjoy it, without jumping to make a breakdown post every 30 minutes

im definitely not at a point where i can play through games like final fantasy tactics, or like. 999. that would be the god mode of practicing japanese i think, thats like. you have to have a developed home-born and raised high school level understanding of japanese. like you dont NEED to be born and raised but thats the level of exposure you should expect to have in order to match that level

it HAS been a long time!!! i stopped playing games in japanese for a while. in the same way i got burnt out on making breakdown posts, i also got burnt out actively play-reading in japanese for at least a few months. at the time, it felt too wrong to just passively play-read for that period of time in retrospect though, i think thats wrong. input thats only getting passed through and not getting committed to memory still does more for your exposure than input that doesnt go in at all. i DID play a ton of kirby air ride in japanese in that period of time, so at least i like. REALLY know what まっすぐ means from all the drag race predictions

im playing majoras mask right now. i started playing on the switch in english and i got the energy to play in japanese, so i started a file on the computer (apparently the system language change doesnt work for the roms on the switch??). joeys playing fallout 4 a ton on the computer and im letting him since he gets less free time than i do and his work is a lot more physically taxing, so im a lot more ahead on the switch vs the computer (also the computer is just taking longer by virtue of me looking up words and shit in the jp dictionary every 20 seconds); i just got the lens of truth and the goron mask in english while im Still on the very first 3 day cycle in japanese

i dont know how many more of these ill be doing in the near future!! they DO take a long time. if i find a box of dialogue or boxes of dialogue that really Grab me, ill be here

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Ugly Truth (2009)

The Ugly Truth is a waste of time. It brings nothing new or fresh or innovative to the romantic comedy genre. The writing is poor. The stars have little chemistry. The plot so predictable you can set your watch to it. Worst of all, there isn't a single laugh within its 96-minute running time. Movies like this are the reason so many people say they hate rom-coms.

Morning show TV producer Abby Richter (Katherine Heigl) is astonished when Mike Chadway (Gerard Butler) is hired to do a segment on her show. Rude, cynical, sexist, and shallow, he’s everything Abby hates. When a piece of advice he gives her seems to work on Abby’s hunky neighbour (Eric Winter), she begins to warm up to Mike.

This movie is pathetic. You’re tempted to leave angry, but why? Why should you pour energy towards this movie when no one working on it did? You know exactly what’s coming the second Abby calls into Mike’s show and angrily tells him he’s wrong for believing what he does about men and women. We’ve all seen the rule of bad romantic films play out like this before. “If two people hate each other, it means they’re destined to fall in love”. To a degree, it's what we come to see but it'd be nice if there was at least the illusion of innovation. If the first words they exchange aren’t enough, just look at Mike's competition for Abby's heart. Sure doctor Colin is handsome but what’s his personality? He has none. There are no scenes where he and Abby have a heart-to-heart. The closest is an awkward baseball game gag - one of the many moments that would NEVER happen in real life - and a romantic evening in the woods that looks uncannily like a car commercial because we don't hear anything that's said. By comparison, Abby and Mike share the same thoughts about bottled vs. tap water. How could he compete?

If the total lack of chemistry between everyone doesn’t turn your heart to dust, the film’s attitude will. "Ugly" is right and with no grasp on reality either. When you get down to it, Mike’s advice is correct most of the time (at least when it comes to the people he interacts with) so what lesson are we supposed to draw from The Ugly Truth? That men care about nothing but appearances, think about nothing but sex and that if you’re not fit to have your picture on the cover of a fashion magazine you’ll die alone, surrounded by cats? The story is so misogynist it makes all of your goodwill towards it melt like a box of chocolates rocketed into the sun. And yet, the film isn’t even THAT R-Rated. You see one behind but there’s no nudity otherwise and nothing Mike says compares to anything we heard in 2007’s Superbad.

If you’re determined to give this movie a chance, save yourself some time. Just go ahead and watch the worst (and most memorable) scene, a sequence in which Abby accidentally wears remote-controlled vibrating underwear to a fancy dinner. If within your DNA the mutant gene that allows human to pass through the floor lays dormant, this is just the trauma you’ll need to trigger it. And this script was written by three women? Are we sure they’re not aliens?

The Ugly Truth is not a wholly forgettable bad film, which actually works in its favor. If you have the misfortune of sitting through it, you'll always remember to discourage anyone else from seeing it and there's no way you'll ever watch it more than once. (May 8, 2020)

[vidalinav]

Stu(died)-Chapter 3

Summary: Cassian takes care of a sick Nesta

Nessian Modern AU-university setting. 

Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List 

(Rolls eyes hardcore) I am continuing this fic for literally five people. Smh. 

~

Nesta comes to their tutoring session late and that’s the first thing that tips him off. Already his phone is in his hand ready to call 911. He has Nesta’s number in his phone saved. The first person listed in his text log under Nerd. He can always text or call her. He belongs to The Rat Pack in Nesta’s Snap Chat group, and he knows he can always contact Emerie or Gwyn if something is truly wrong. Yet he dials in 911 and his thumb hovers over the call button.   

If she doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, Cassian swears he’ll call.  

Nesta’s never late. In fact, she’s annoyingly early. She practically has a stop watch in her hand at all times, counting every minute she waits. When Cassian comes running in five minutes later, as he so often does, panting with some excuse, Nesta doesn’t even bother looking up from her textbook. She merely gestures to the seat, a heavy sigh on her lips, like she’s running out of time to bore him death even as she fascinates him to pieces. 

Her books should already be splayed onto the table, her pencils straight and neatly lined up. Today, the table is empty. 

He’ll give it fifteen minutes and then he’s calling.  

But Nesta shows up before another minute ticks by. She steps out of the elevator wearing that grey polo he’s seen on her a million times. She lugs her way to him, dragging her feet with the weight of those textbooks he’s sure are in her bag. 

She’s wearing a mask, today, and that’s another thing that sends his brain screeching somethings not right here! It covers half of her face, and her eyes look tired from where they peak above the fabric. Cassian doesn’t even bother waiting for her to settle. Already he’s crossing his arms, his brows crinkling with concern and something like irritation. 

How dare she think studying is more important than her health.  

“Go home,” he says as she nears. Nesta only blinks as if as not understanding his words. The fact that she doesn’t immediately argue is enough for him to start gathering his things.  

“What are you doing?” She says as he stuffs his notebook in his bag, “You have an exam in two weeks.” Nesta sets down her own, it slaps at the table with a heavy thump. Cassian can hear the zipper unzipping but not as well as the cough that roars out of her mouth.  

It’s loud and wet, and Nesta pauses as if to get her bearings, covering her mouth with her arm. She coughs and coughs and Cassian lays a hand to his own chest. He can almost feel how much it hurts, how she gasps. 

Cassian shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta’s brows furrow and she gets that look in her eyes. He just knows she’s going to fight him on this. “I--”  

Cassian cuts her off, “please, save your breath. You’re going to make everyone sick.”  

“I’m wearing a mask!” Nesta argues.  

“It’s almost midterms.” Cassian gestures to the other occupants in the library. He sees one person with their hoodie pulled up over their head, clearly sleeping... and moves on to someone else. A group in the corner who’s standing by a whiteboard. “You want to take your chances with sleep deprived students?” 

Nesta seems to think about that. While she does, Cassian zips up her bag and throws it over his shoulder. It’s as heavy as he thought it might be. Briefly, he thinks of making a joke about how she must have stuffed a body in here, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, given how quiet she is.   

Mentally, he starts making a list of everything she needs. Medicine? He’ll get the pills and the syrup, never mind if she scrunches her nose at the taste. He’ll get her soup. Not the canned. Cassian will buy the ingredients. He’s sure he can make something appeasing. Vaguely, he can remember his mom’s recipe. Beef broth and cabbage and squash. Hopefully she can stomach it. Never mind, the salt will be good for her.  

“Hey,” she whines, blinking up at him slowly, “give me my bag.”  

“Have you not heard me? You need to be home lying down. Not here, helping me study. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta crosses her arms and the intimidation tactic seems ridiculous with her face half covered and her endless sniffling. “You can try, but I’ll just refuse to tell you my apartment number.”  

Cassian scoffs, “I know where you live. I can see your room from the house when you study at night.”   

“Who says that out loud?” Nesta shouts. 

She must be terribly ill if she’s yelling in a library. That’s all he can think as he gestures to the elevator, bags in hand. 

“Never mind that. Let’s go,” Cassian says, walking ahead without her. 

He can’t hear her shuffling though, so he turns back to find Nesta leaning on a chair, holding her stomach. He can already feel himself sighing.   

Cassian rushes back just in time for Nesta to rip off her mask, and move to the closest trashcan. It’s situated under one of the bulletin boards and as Cassian sidles up to her, rubbing at her back and pulling her hair away, he looks to the papers tacked to the board.  

Join the rowing team. Looking for tutors. Research participants wanted.  

He can hear the retching and Cassian reads on. 

Babysitter wanted for professor, transportation needed.

“I haven’t thrown up since middle school,” Nesta says pathetically. She frowns as he hands her his bottle of water. Her nose and cheeks are red and for some reason he thinks of Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa through the storm. 

He feels bad for little Rudolph...

“Now will you let me take you home,” Cassian sighs. He hopes it doesn’t sound like an ‘I told you so’ but she should really be lying down. He lays a hand to her forehead, but she brushes him off, moving towards the bathrooms.  

“I’ll wait right here,” he says, but Nesta moves ahead as if she doesn’t hear him at all. Cassian can’t find it in himself to mind. A sick Nesta is guaranteed to be a stubborn Nesta, he just knows.  

When she gets out, she looks surprised to see him and that’s another look that just proves how sick she must be. It’s a fairly obvious prediction that he’s going to wait next to the girl's bathroom, counting ceiling tiles. It’s a perfectly ‘Cassian with Nesta’ thing to do.  

“You’re skipping class?”   

Nesta coughs again, and she looks perfectly pitiful as she blinks her tired eyes. Cassian can feel his lips frown, and he shifts her bag more securely on his shoulder if only to keep himself from reaching out for her. Already he can feel his hands bunch into fists because he wants to grab her own and squeeze it until she's reassured. He wants to hug her until she feels better.  

But he can’t.  

Cassian lists every action he wants to do. Kiss her forehead where Nesta rubs her hand, because she must have a headache from how sick she is. Put on her favorite movie, so she can fall asleep to its sound. Run to every store, raiding every Walgreens and CVS until he comes back with a pharmacy.  

What might she allow now that she’s sick? Will she let him fuss like he wants to?  

But Nesta rolls her eyes in that haughty way of hers. “You can’t do that.”   

“I can’t do what?” Cassian asks and he wonders if she can read his thoughts. If she studies him so well, reads him like one of her textbooks, memorizing facts and facial features.  

“You can’t skip class,” she argues. “Why am I tutoring you if you’re going to skip class?”  

At the words, all Cassian wants to do is sigh. She’s thinking about attendance at a time like this...   

“Nesta, there is no class more important than you.” 

Her brows crinkle at the center like she’s going to start arguing, but Cassian allows himself one touch. He places his thumb there, between her brows, smoothing out the lines. Nesta rips away, blinking up dazed and all too confused. Cassian would laugh at the look, if he didn’t need the distraction.   

He juts his head to the elevator quickly. “Let’s go. We can walk slow, so don’t overexert yourself.”   

Nesta scrunches up her nose, so cute and red, but she follows him anyway albeit a little petulantly. She holds her hand out for her bag, but Cassian turns toward the doors, pretending not to see.   

“How does me being sick make you bossy?”   

Cassian doesn’t dare to respond. He doesn’t know whether he’ll admit that he wants to take care of her, that’s he’s so worried a knot twists in his stomach, or if he’ll make some joke, he knows will make her mad. Maybe that’s the better option, he thinks. He can handle a mad Nesta. He likes a mad Nesta, but a Nesta who so easily rejects him?   

Cassian doesn’t know about that.   

“You don’t have any classes left this week, right?”   

Nesta coughs into her sleeve before answering. Though she means to sound queenly, she only sounds sick, “you know where I live, and you also know my class schedule... seems suspicious if you ask me.”   

“I’ve known you for two years.” 

“And murder victims are three times more likely to be killed by someone they know." 

Cassian huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “Do you still go to sleep watching SVU? Or have you switched to Lifetime movies where the babysitters always try to kill the wife?”   

“People should be wary about the people they know,” Nesta shrugs as if that’s answer enough.   

Cassian snorts, “well you don’t have to be wary of me.”   

As the elevator doors open, Cassian gestures for her to go first and Nesta does, but not before crossing her arms.   

“That’s just what a murderer would want me to think.” She squints as if dissecting him, limb by limb. “You kill me, and I’ll haunt you. You won’t be able to sleep at night without thinking of me.” 

Too late, Cassian thinks.  

It’s much too late for that.  

~

Rudolph has the patience of a five-year-old when she’s sick. Cassian learns this fairly quickly when he runs inside a Walgreens on their way to Nesta’s apartment.  

There’s a bench that she can sit on, where she can wait if she feels tired, but no. Nesta decides she needs to run errands. She has an entire basket filled by the time he finds her again. She’s by the greeting cards, holding three open at a time. Cassian huffs with a receipt and medicine in hand.  

“Here,” he says, giving her the cough medicine. “Take some of this.”  

Nesta doesn’t even bother with pouring. He watches as she rips the cap away, taking a swig right out of the bottle, gulping it down.  

“That’s way more than the suggested amount,” he cries, “you can get drunk on this stuff!”  

“Good, maybe I’ll forget this day ever happened.”

Cassian sighs... it seems all he does is sigh when she’s like this. A sick Nesta is a petulant, irritated Nesta with a permanent furrow between her brows. 

“I know you feel sick,” he tries to placate, “but I bet you’d feel a whole lot better if we get you home as soon as we can... so you can lie down and sleep.”  

Nesta only picks up another Halloween card. She ignores his suggestion, laughing under her breath as she reads whatever inane joke is written there. Soon, she’s coughing though, and Cassian reaches for the basket just to stop himself from rubbing a hand down her back, combing his fingers through her hair.  

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, his thoughts scream.  

Cassian looks to the contents to distract himself from her watery eyes, and that’s when he notices what she’s grabbed. It seems that while he was in the cold and flu aisle, Nesta was raiding the snacks. 

“What is this?” He gestures to the basket. Two boxes of cereal. Caramel corn. Baked Lay’s and cans of Arizona tea. Cassian takes one and holds it up. “Really Nesta?”  

“What it’s green tea!” she argues, shoving another card back in its slot.   

“This is all... junk,” he tries to explain, but Nesta’s already glowering. 

“Look I don’t question your decisions. You don’t question mine.”  

Cassian gives her a bland look. “You question my decisions all the time. Before we came in here, you literally said ‘why are we going in here, Cassian? Weren’t you supposed to take me home.’ You said that.”

Nesta simply raises her chin, pulling out another card. “I recall no such thing.” 

“Fine,” Cassian grumbles, “if you want to eat yourself to an early grave and ignore everything that could potentially make you feel better than that’s just fine with me.”  

“Good,” she says, putting back the other cards. Nesta settles for a pop-up that sings Monster Mash when she opens it. She sets it in the basket he holds, walking ahead without even looking back. “I’m ready to check out.”  

“Really?” Cassian jokes, mockingly. “Are you sure you raided the candy aisle?” 

Nesta stops in her tracks, peering through the section with printer ink and paper as if she can see the other side. He swears he’d facepalm if he wasn’t carrying all this stuff. 

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. 

“Wait!” Cassian calls. “Where are you going? Nesta!”  

Too late. He can already hear crunching bags. 

The variety packs.  

Cassian sighs, lugging their things to the aisle next door. 

~

“Can I use these vegetables?” Cassian asks, as Nesta shoves open the door to her room. He’s surprised she’s not still by the freezer. When they first get back to her place, she sticks her head in there and he wonders if he should suggest taking her temperature, or if she’s doing it just to show him she’s annoyed.  

Perhaps her ears bleed from the sound of his voice.  

That seems like something Nesta would say.  

“They’re Emerie’s. Why?”

“To make soup,” Cassian explains, rifling through the contents. There’s zucchini and summer squash. Onion, fresh parsley and carrots. Cabbage and lettuce. Fresh fruit. He can make a nice stew out of this.  

Nesta scoffs, “I don’t need soup.”  

She enters her room, shoving the door back behind her until it leaves only a crack.  

“You can leave now,” she yells. “I’m home like you wanted.”  

“Are you lying down?” He asks, crossing his arms sternly though she can’t see him.  

Nesta sighs loudly, “you’re annoying!”  

“Maybe if you got some rest, I’d be less annoying,” Cassian sings brightly.  

He can hear the soft sound of her voice. “Doubt.”  

Cassian shakes his head with a smirk. He opens his snapchat where The Rat Pack is the first on the list, but the group name has changed... to People I Tolerate.

That’s got to be Nesta.  

Cassian laughs under his breath and types. Can I use your vegetables? Making Nesta soup.

Emerie’s bitmoji pops up at the bottom, but the person who texts back first is not Emerie, but Gwyn.  

You’re at our house?

Cassian can almost hear her voice. Stern and cautious. He’s almost certain she doesn’t like him. Gwyn looks at him with even more disdain than Nesta when he's around. That stay away from my friend look.  

He sighs. Yes, Nesta’s sick.  

Gwyn’s quick to respond. I can come home early. I need to drop off a paper, but I can be there in 30.  

Cassian rolls his eyes and types, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.  

Nesta’s face pops up. I can take care of myself.  

“No, you can’t!” Cassian yells.  

“Yes, I can!” Nesta yells back, but then she starts coughing again and he can hear her groan in the other room. Cassian raises a brow at her door.  

I’m going to make soup. I’ll make enough for all of you, but can I use stuff from the fridge? I’ll replace it all.  

Emerie’s face pops up and then disappears quickly. He’s about ready to go to the store himself or at least next door to the House, but Emerie’s text appears.  

I have no objections to this.

Cassian smiles in relief, and he’s about to set down his phone when another notification appears. It’s Emerie again.  

And if you make good soup, you can stay indefinitely.  

Cassian sends a winking emoji. Nesta sends back the emoji with the straight mouth and eyes. Before he can frown at what that means, Cassian sees that the group name has changed... to Three’s Company.  

That’s got to be Gwyn.  

Stone cold, Emerie texts back.  

Cassian decides he’s going to ignore that for the moment and focus on the objective at hand.  

Soup.  

Cassian pulls out the vegetables and looks through the cupboards. Emerie, it seems, has all the good spices. He finds the broth packets stored in the back, and he pulls out some beef from the freezer. It’ll need to defrost but he can start the broth now, get the vegetables soft, and brown the beef later. It’ll take a couple of hours anyway.  

Occasionally, he hears a cough as he works. Then a sweet laugh... followed by a cough and a groan. Cassian feels bad for her he does, but he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing. She should be resting and yet she seems to be wide awake.  

Nesta doesn’t come out of her room though. It’s as if he’s not even there, and he takes that time to look over her shared apartment. There are three doors, each with a letter at the front. The N is blue, the E, green, and the G, pink. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to have a living room that looks like all three, but somehow it works. It’s studious and bright. Colorful, but subdued. There are way too many throw pillows and books scattered everywhere, but there’s also a TV with a fireplace under it. He can just imagine Nesta laughing at scary movies. Some slasher fic she’ll watch like she’s taking notes.  

He can imagine Nesta everywhere, in fact.  

This is where she eats. Where she sits. Where she studies. This is where she trips over shoes if they’re not neatly lined up and where she complains about dirty dishes. This is where she cooks... if she does cook. Cassian doesn’t know.  

Maybe he’ll get to find out one day.  

Once the water starts boiling and the meat is in the microwave to defrost, Cassian goes to check how Rudolph is doing.  

He knocks on her door lightly, pushing it open. “Nesta?”  

Cassian’s never seen her room before, say for when she sits by the window with her curtains wide open, and just like then, it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now. But Nesta’s plopped on top of her bed, tucked beneath her blue comforter, and she sets down her phone when he appears at the door.  

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There are also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster? Cassian holds it up.

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her.

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.  

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?”

Nesta coughs out her response.

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like to be coddled by anyone.

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack.

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?”

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.”

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here. Wear my sweatshirt.”

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”  

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.  

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes, and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes.

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this.

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns.

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.  

“Stop laughing,” she whines, “I’m being serious.”  

“Yes, you’re being very serious.” He can’t help his smirk as he gazes up at her. He doesn’t even realize he’s on her bed, sitting to the side of her all bunched up in red. Her nose to the fabric. He almost wants to say she looks cute in his hoodie, all sick like that, but he knows she’ll only bite at him, remarking about how he has some weird fetish for sick girls. 

Cassian holds back a laugh as he hears the microwave ding. He needs to turn the meat around, so it doesn’t cook through, but Nesta grips his arm. His head whips towards her and... Nesta’s gazing up at him. Her eyes are a soft blue. Just like her room.  

“You’re warm,” she says. To explain herself, he thinks, and why she holds him as if she doesn't want him to move.   

Cassian’s lips raise lightly, and he places the back of his hand on her forehead. “You must be worse than you’re letting on if you're okay with me being in your bed.”  

Nesta scoffs, “you’re on it. Not in it. I’ll make that distinction very clear.”  

“You can’t be that sick then,” Cassian shrugs, smiling. “If you’re making everything sound like a tutoring session.”  

Her cheeks flush a bright pink and Cassian thinks she must have a fever. He wonders if he should search for an ice pack or make one, so she doesn’t get too hot.  

“Are you tired?” He asks, noting how slowly she blinks. “You did drink a lot of cough syrup.”

“I also took a NyQuil,” she says, closing her eyes.  

Cassian huffs, “remind me to teach you how read warning labels when your fully coherent.”  

He can hear the microwave ding again, and it reminds him of an alarm. Wake up! It seems to say. Being in Nesta’s room does feels like falling asleep. Rather dream-like and hazy. The microwave dings incessantly, but Cassian doesn’t want to wake up just yet. 

Her hand is still on his arm. It’s so much smaller than his and he wants to trace the skin there and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Cassian doesn’t dare look at her, in case she doesn’t just bang together two loud cymbals and tell him to get up and out and away. 

Cassian looks ahead instead, fixing his gaze on the stuffed lobster on her desk.  

“Nesta,” he starts and then swallows. He feels nervous, his hands clammy. “Nesta, I really think you and I... we’d be good together.”  

Cassian takes a breath, and he stares at the lobster as if it’s her face. “We’ve known each other for a long time now and I... I haven’t hid how I feel about you.” His heart is beating way too fast, and he doesn’t feel any freer from speaking the words, but Cassian decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I thought maybe... we could try it out. See if you might be comfortable with it. If you might like me... too?”  

He doesn’t know why he words that like a question, but Nesta doesn’t say a word. Cassian looks back, hoping there’s no disgust in baby blue. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she just outright says he’s trash and she’ll never like him. 

But Nesta’s fast asleep.  

Cassian doesn’t bother sighing as he grips her limp hand, setting it on the blanket. He doesn’t bother being disappointed when he tucks the comforter around her. Her cheeks are a lobster-red and he rubs a thumb lightly there, wondering what it would be like to hold her face in his palm and kiss at her nose. Would she complain as he pecked her lips? You’ll get sick Cassian.  

Then we can stay in bed together, Nesta.  

No. Cassian’s not disappointed at all. 

He’ll tuck away his dreams where tomorrow lives. 

Today, he’ll stick to what he’s good at, so Cassian heads to the kitchen to make soup.

~

~ ~

~

~

Mwahahahaahah

~

In case you missed, here’s the stuffed lobster in the flesh.

~

Tagged: 

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430​

~

"Why am I still writing this fic?" I say angrily, as I angrily type it in my angry word document.

[beann-e]

inspiration from the tiktok audio “ I don’t love you i’m just passing the time “

This was never about you. Honestly you were surprised it took you so long to notice.

No that was a lie you weren’t surprised because it was his fault he never told you flat out that he wasn’t expecting much from you. It’s not that he wasn’t interested he just — he didn’t know what to do. Of course he thought you were beautiful and that’s what scared him but at the same time gave him the energy to talk to you.

His personality was known for leading him to talk to beautiful people.

He was sure he’d never date you because, his heart belonged to kiyoko .

No one could ever top her or at least that’s what he thought until you came along. Here you were in all your beauty putting anyone else to shame that dared to stand next to you.

You were perfect for him and after a couple months you were all his. He adored you even after highschool when you two finally decided to move in together.

he told you every day how much he loved you. His love even trickling down to his actions when he would ask you to do couple things appearing out of no where with a request

‘ y/n how about black hair dye huh ? wanna try something new together i’ll color my hair too ! ‘

you instantly agreeing to every ask all of them ranging from

‘ hey y/n , have you always been able to see? are you sure because you were squinting just awhile ago we can get you glasses I mean I don’t care about price if it’s for you —no no I think we should—let’s do black square rims ? i think they would fit your pretty face ‘

to

‘ babe when you do your makeup this time try some face designs their so cool I see them all the time on my instagram here — can I try ‘ him smiling before sitting next to you and guiding the eyeliner out of your reluctant hand a tight smile drawn across your face

Him smiling when you turned to the mirror to see a small black dot next to your lips. ‘ you look so pretty with it ‘

You hadn’t noticed until the volleyball reunion when you sat in a circle with all the old members and tsukishimas mouth spilling out his harsh words unbothered by your reaction “ why the hell do we have two kiyokos now? “

his glasses moving down on his nose as he spoke again “ y/n i’m sure we only need one I personally prefer the original she looks more “ his head tilted as his eyes ran over your new look “ natural“

“ yeah I was actually wondering that but I didn’t wanna bring it up first I um y/n are you trying to look like kiyoko or “

your small cough coming out and drawing all the attention back to you as you felt the same woman turn to face you her own eyes now seeing what the others were talking about “ of — of course not I — “

“ eh what the fuck “ your boyfriends voice coming out loudly as he now sat pissed off with the group “ are you pricks trying to say I couldn’t get over kiyoko or some shit “

“ what what no tanaka-san we “ sugawaras voice coming out to try to let the tension fizzle out

“ no because I’m feeling like there’s something being unsaid here“ he grunted “ if anyone has anything else to say badly about my s/o then they should just fuck off “

“ tanaka “ you screamed

“ no i’m tired of people thinking I can’t get shimizu out of my head I can —I can and I will “

“ y-you will ? “

“ I mean I have “ his eyes locked with yours as he spoke low “ I have “

The room grew quiet as he stood the chair he sat in being pushed back as he walked off you standing up too offering a small smile to everyone in the circle “ sorry if you’ll excuse me “

“ your good—I think he needs you a little bit more than we do right now“ daichis voice came out a bit more concerned than he wanted it too

Your figure being seen getting smaller and smaller as you ran after your boyfriend to the kitchen grabbing his arm loosely “ babe I “

“ let go y/n “

“ but I — tanaka what’s up why are you acting like this “

“ I said let the fuck go y/n “ his voice boomed as he yanked his arm from you your body moving back a little due to the strength he’d pulled it back with “ i’m going to go get a drink I can’t handle those assholes alone “

“ your — you’re not alone tanaka i’m with you ill handle them with you “

A smile slowly spreading across your face when he stopped moving only to turn over his shoulder biting his lip as he stood thinking to himself his hand pointing to the kitchen “ for some reason that only makes me need a drink even more “

You nodded softly as he rolled his eyes at you “ you do understand correct ? “

“ yeah yeah no of course “ you smiled tightly as he walked off and you walked back to the crowded living room trying to contain your tears that wanted to spill so badly usually when he acted like this he’d drink himself to sleep.

You sat down on the floor letting yourself join the huddle as everyone spoke you getting lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t often that this happened but when it did it never went the way you would want it to. He would always get distant instead of becoming clingy like you would rather. He’d become meaner with his words instead of thinking of you before speaking like he usually would.

“ prick only ever thinking of himself —a stupid child“ you whispered out thinking of your boyfriend and his future actions that you could already predict

“ yeah shoyos gotta be— the asshole requested it “ kageyama whispered to you as you turned to see hinata sitting across from you waving to you when he met your gaze making you speak softly with a smile “ sweet “

“ hey y/n wanna play dare or dare with us ? “

you shook your head laughing a bit “ what are we teenagers again“ you laughed a bit louder “ but no i’ll — i’ll pass “

“ aw come on your the only other chick here besides kiyoko “

“ no no no you guys go ahead i’ll just watch “

everyone sighed as they began the game you hearing loud steps pound through the house as your boyfriends loud voice cut through the laughter “ what you pricks started without me “

“ yeah uh just join tanaka- san “

“ fuck yeah “ he wobbled over to sit next to daichi not locking eyes with you only smiling at everyone around the table taking a long swig of the liquor bottle he’d sat on the table in his adventure over.

The air that was once tense seemed to calm down as everyone started drinking and suggesting dares. You smiling as you looked at everyone this had to be the best night of your life finally getting to see all your friends again after kageayma and hinata traveled non stop and everyone else never had the time to have a party.

You patted yourself on the back seeing everyone having such a good night.

“ ok ok last dare “ nishinoya burped out as he shakily raised his hand already drunk off his ass his words sluring as he spoke “ I dare tanaka—san to “ he took another gulp from the bottle only to push it aside and open the new one that laid dormant between the two of you “ to kiss the prettiest person in the room “

Everyones eyes widening as they all broke out into a laughing fit “ fucking nishinoyas so stupid “

“ this asshole just wasted a dare on an obvious answer “

hinata rubbing the said males back as his head finally dropped to the table cheek hitting the brown table as he laughed “ ha yeah sure ‘m stupid —real stupid “

he smiled drunkenly laughing at the tables comments “ haha its obviously not that obvious “

Your heart dropped smile only following as you looked from nishinoyas eyes to the scene playing in front of you. Your boyfriends lips locked on another pair that weren’t your own. His hands coming up to the back of her head to push her closer to him as he hungrily pressed his lips onto hers

Her eyes wide as his were closed almost like he was enjoying this “ what “ you whispered out as a rough hand came in contact with tanakas shoulder grabbing it and pulling him back

“ what the fuck you asshole “ tsukishimas voice was threatening as he stared down on the male genuinely confused “ what the hell do you think your doing “

“ hey blondy is that anyway to speak to someone older than you“ he scoffed “ mind your manners child “

“ mind— mind your manners? “ your voice was short and quiet as your eyes darted around the room eyes blinking back the surprise they held as everyone turned to face you only making this deepening pit in your stomach grow.

“ why— tanaka— san why would you do that “

“ what — whatd I do this time suga huh — first it was having a crush on kiyoko everyone was screaming how I wouldn’t get her ha “ he scoffed “ fucking assholes were right so here I am with a fucking backup “

He shook his head as he leaned it back to stare up at the ceiling “ shitty arts and crafts project of building her because I couldn’t have the original — fucking sad “

your heart broke “ sitting here pretending kissing y/n is the same as kissing kiyoko — hell I didn’t even wanna kiss y/n right now i wanted to kiss kiy— “

“ shitty asshole you just did “ tsukishimas voice raised his eyes holding the anger you couldn’t even hold for yourself “ you just did right in front of your s/o “

“ well with them looking the same how the fuck was I suppose to tell “ he laughed “ that’s what you said earlier right ? so what’s so wrong with me enforcing it ? “ he scoffed “ everyone already believed it right so why the fuck does it matter they look the same, act the same , talk the fucking same so in the end I kissed y/n right— ha “

your body hurt just like your heart and your brain was spinning “ why would you — why would you date me tanaka if you didn’t want me “

“ did it look like I was gonna get kiyoko anytime soon — your a ditz — the whole time i’m doing this to get over her and you just became her “

you sat silently blinking back the tears that you held throat holding a sob that wanted to make its way out “ get the fuck out “

“ excuse m—”

“ GET THE FUCK OUT “ you screamed your tears disappearing and turning into anger “ get out get out get out “ you screamed hands reaching out to punch him over the table as you repeated the phrase

“ ok— ok stop stop “

“ no no no get the fuck out I paid for this I paid I paid “ you screaming like a child throwing a tantrum in a supermarket him only moving to stand and walk to the bedroom drunkenly to grab his clothes “ just let me grab my stuff i’ll be out of your hair for the night “

you raged as he made his way into your once shared bedroom forgetting the living room full of people as you ran after him to rip the clothes out of his hand that he held. All the items you’d bought with your hard earned money. The shoes you’d spent over 50$ on for his birthday in his hand along with the limited edition shirt you’d bought for him after he begged for it screaming that was his favorite player.

The items that you’d stayed up four hours for the night of just to buy it for him with your paycheck that week. Your thoughts only making you more upset when you thought back to everything you’d done for the male and the stuff he’d done for y—

he’d done absolutely nothing for you in this whole relationship and this only pissed you off more at the thought

Your heart broke again when you noticed you were already screaming at him again “ get the hell out “

“ i’m going fuck y/n “

“ go faster asshole “

“ what so no clothes ? “ he laughed “ come on that’s pretty harsh —baby it’s cold out give me a jacket or something at least until morning when I come back home “

“ morning “ you scoffed “ you’ll need a jacket for awhile tanaka because your not coming back in my house so freeze your ass off out there or go with your high school crush and her husband “

His once smiling face turning into an angry one as he stepped closer to you the alcohol spilling from his breath and onto your face as he stared down at you “ the fuck are you bringing that up for “

“ your the one who went around kissing a married woman “ you were gonna rub this all in his face. You couldn’t wait until kiyokos husband beat up the drunken deadbeat in front of you.

“I thought it was you “

“ yeah sure after you gave me a makeover to look like her i’m sure you did tanaka “

“ so fucking ungrateful “

“ oh now i’m ungrateful “

“ yeah you are “ his voice got louder as he pointed between you and him “ I made you into the woman I love — the perfect woman you should be on your knees thanking me right now “

“ aw should I “ you sighed “ god what’s wrong with me “

“ exactly now give me my stuff back i’m going to bed this is fucking with my head ’m drunk and I wanna bask in it for a minute — maybe forget you just tried to kick me out so I don’t get on your ass in the morning “

“ yeah of course babe you need your rest “ you nodded as he walked towards your door to pick up where you’d thrown his clothes only for you run and jump on his back arms wrapping around his neck your legs wrapping around his torso “ i’m gonna kill you— you asshole “

“ what the fuck “

“ then i’m gonna lock your body in my fucking freezer or even have daichi fake an arrest you prick— you’ve made my life a living hell — and now you wanna sleep— in my house “

You weren’t sure how he ended up leaving all you knew is that your heart seriously broke when you finally locked the door and rested your forehead against it. Tears spilling from your eyes for the first time that night. You’d gone crazy you had to have because just a few hours ago you almost choked the male to death after jumping on his back like a pro wrestler you were really going crazy

Your body relaxed as you felt a warmth make it’s way over to you only for it to tense when a familiar hand caressed your back and tried to lift your upper body up and away from the floor you’d fell onto sometime that night “ come on y/n —at least let me help you to the couch “ a sigh made it’s way through the house “ I promise you can wallow in your shitty tear soaked shirt after I make sure your comfortable and not hurting “

a cough quickly followed “ physically that is — this shits gotta hurt emotionally “

Your words coming out in a slurred whine like a child “ but it’s dirty — it needs to be cleaned “

“ would I tell you to go sit down if it wasn’t “ he spit back as he finally got you to fall into his chest after leading you over to the couch turning off the hallway light and leaving the lamp next to the couch on.

Him sighing out and shifting uncomfortably as you cried into his shirt causing him to need to distract himself from the crying woman in his arms. How the hell did he end up the nice one in this situation

Why did he push everyone out the house? He could’ve left hell he could’ve copied nishinoya and stolen the leftover four liquor bottles you had laid out on the table before everything happened

he wasn’t a comforting person so why would he shoo everyone else that could’ve helped you away?

he scoffed as he tried to fiddle with his sleeves only to take off his glasses and clean them over and over again

“ how many times are you gonna clean them “ you sniffled into his chest

“ until you finish acting like a baby — I feel like I have a kid ? Like i’m a parent I mean what do parents do” his hand softly came down on your head to pet your hair softly unsure why to do in this situation “ I uh— do you want warm milk ? chocolate or strawberry or is it my baby’s bedtime ? “

“ shut up tsuki “ he laughed as he felt you snuggle up closer to him “ so why are you — of all people —the only one that stayed everyone else must think i’m crazy or something “

“ eh I mean they already thought you were we were making bets before we walked in here on what you’d changed this time to look like kiyoko “

you slapping his arm softly before laughing “ god do I really look like her “

His once stoic face grew sad as his eyes ran over your facial features his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down on you “ yeah — yeah you really do — that crazy asshole “ he shook his head hand reaching out to touch your hair again feeling how burned it was from constantly flat ironing it and curling it like tanaka wanted “ god what did he do to you “

“ build a y/n “ you laughed as he stood up his own words following quickly after yours “ come on “

“ what “ you said as you stared at his open outstretched hand “ what’s going on “

“ let’s go “ you shook your head no “ look do you wanna change back or no “

You swallowed the lump in your throat before nodding slowly and taking his hand to travel with him to the bathroom. Him speaking to you softly only loud enough for you to try and figure out some of the words you couldn’t.

“ for some reason I miss old y/n — and I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing em’ again preferably across the table from me in a booth at 2:30 saturday with strawberry cake in front us? “

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 320: Deku vs. Class 1-A

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Kacchan was all “fuck Deku and fuck his stupid goodbye letters, I need to speak to somebody in charge.” Endeavor was all “hello, I am Somebody In Charge.” Kacchan was all “listen up asshole, you need to let us go out and collect our wayward nerd because you stupidly left him alone with All Might and that’s a fast track to disaster right there.” Endeavor was all, “[self-incriminating silence].” Rat Principal was all, “okay sure, have fun kids.” Back in the present, class 1-A was all “hi Deku” and Deku was all “I’M FINE!!!!!” and Kacchan was all “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YOU DUMB FUCKING NERD” and so the kids all got ready to fight, because OF COURSE they’re gonna fight. Sorry guys, but yeah it’s happening.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all “what’s up Deku you look like a possessed Rorschach test, so anyway how are the new quirks coming along.” Deku is all “they’re coming along like THIS” and uses Smokescreen to try and get away. Kacchan is all “PHASE ONE COMMENCE”, and Kouda, Sero, Jirou, and Ojiro leap into the fray to shower Deku with heaps of love and violence, because this is a shounen manga and kicking someone’s ass while simultaneously proclaiming your undying admiration for them is just how it’s done in these parts. The KoudaSeroOJirou squad then passes the baton to Satou, Momo, Tokoyami, Kaminari, and Shouji, who are all “fuck this mask” and do a bunch of stuff to tear Deku’s mask off because they’re the real heroes. Shouto is all “LOOK AT THE LITTLE CRYBABY, THAT’S RIGHT, GO AHEAD AND FUCKING CRY and by the way let us share your burden please,” and once again I swear this is all very deeply moving and touching within the actual context. The chapter ends with Tsuyu being all “look at me. I’m the cliffhanger now,” and damn.

lol what

I don’t think anyone was expecting that. I mean, not that I’ve got anything against Tsuyu or anything. anyways it’s a very nice cover and I love the colors and I hope this means Tsuyu’s gonna do something badass

also, “Deku vs Class A” -- pretty much the expected title, but it’s still got me hyped nonetheless fuck yeah let’s go

IIDA ANGST

Iida Tenya really said “fuck the uniform code, we’re leaving the helmet at home today.” sorry kids, prim and proper C-3PO Comic Relief Iida has left the building. can I interest you in some Serious Iida

meanwhile Kacchan is all “sup Deku, I heard you got a few more quirks, and might I just add that you look like the Snyder Cut of Detective Pikachu”

“you look like a tarred and feathered squid” okay easy there Kacchan. I mean it’s all true of course, but still

“thank you all for coming” OH EXCUSE ME SON, WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING SOMEWHERE. LET’S JUST SEE HOW THAT PLAYS OUT

yep and there’s Smokescreen, right on cue

okay Horikoshi, I leave it in your hands. hopefully you can come up with some more interesting combos than my dumbass predictions lol

LOL THIS ISN’T A COMBO AT ALL

“explosions solve everything” -- Horikoshi Kouhei, 2021. something something shockwave, something something handwave ta-da no more smoke. lol okay then

oh, ouch

he would know, wouldn’t he. nice application of one of your many hard-earned life lessons, Kacchan

by the way you guys, just as an experiment, I’m going to try to anticipate some of the discourse this week in the hopes of preemptively addressing it and thus saving myself some time later on lol. so here’s our first test run!

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “oh my god what a fucking hypocrite can you believe this fucking guy”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: it’s precisely because Kacchan has been in this exact situation himself that he’s able to recognize his past self in Deku now and call him out on it. just because it took him sixteen years to get it through his head that he can’t accomplish every single thing completely by himself doesn’t mean Deku has to go down that same path. so yeah, maybe it is a bit hypocritical, but if you insist that the only people qualified to call out stupid shit are people who have never done a single stupid thing in their own lives, then what you’re basically saying is that absolutely no one on earth is qualified lol. so yeah, I’d have to disagree

and one last unrelated note, I’m willing to bet the whole “you didn’t even say a word before you ran off” thing is possibly the first thing Kacchan’s said in this whole encounter that actually does stem from genuine hurt rather than his tough-love-harsh-truths strategy. I’M TAKING NOTES HERE HORIKOSHI. at this rate it’ll take twice as many chapters as DvK2 for them to hash out all the stuff between them, geez

anyway so I gotta say, so far Deku vs. Class A is looking an awful lot like a DvK3 wearing a hat, trenchcoat, and sunglasses lol

OH SHIT I TAKE IT BACK??

FUCK YEAH, YOU GO KOUDA. and I guess he ditched his mask as well! excellent

so far the strategy here seems to be “Kacchan says all the mean tough love shit while the rest of 1-A balances it out with warmth and kindness”, which actually works pretty well imo. Deku is one of those people that doesn’t usually need a Kacchan Translator anyway, but just in case, this is very efficient

mm but of course Deku is slingshotting himself away with Blackwhip. all right then, who’s up next!

FUCK YEAH

okay but seriously you guys, what is going on with Sero’s face in these last couple of chapters though, it’s really starting to unnerve me. is he trying to emulate Kacchan’s whole asymmetrical facial expressions thing?

in fact let me just quickly hit pause here because,

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “SERO IS TOGA??!”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: no

oh snap looks like Jirou’s getting in on the action too!

poor Jirou probably spent days racking her brain trying to think of something she could bond with Deku over. is Horikoshi doing these in reverse order of the kids who have had the most interaction with him? that would explain why poor Kouda didn’t get a flashback lol

omg. well that answers that

so by my count, Satou and Hagakure are the only ones remaining in this first tier of kids who Still Appreciate Midoriya even though they’ve barely ever spoken two words to him in their lives lol. so they’ll probably be next, and then we’ll get to the next tier of kids who are pretty good friends with him but not quite besties. and then we’ll move on to the IidaRokiRaka trio, and then lastly, to the boy who is in a tier all his own

BUT FIRST, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

and by “sponsor” I mean the Dekuangst. just in case that wasn’t clear. indeed, many thanks to the Dekuangst for making this all possible

(ETA: okay so this whole “take me away” line seemed pretty weird to me, and sure enough it’s yet another one of those cases where only the verb is specified, and the object is left to the reader’s interpretation. so even though the translation says “take me away”, I’m pretty sure that what Deku’s actually saying is “take you away” -- as in, his loved ones will be taken away by AFO.

and that is literally the way he phrases it, though -- the verb used is “奪う” (ubau), meaning “to snatch away; to dispossess; to steal.” which, god, that hurts my whole goddamn heart though, because for him to say it like that?? not “AFO will kill you”, but “AFO will take you away from me.” he can’t have nice things anymore because of AFO. he can’t be around the people he loves because AFO will hurt them. he can’t have happiness because AFO will take it away from him. anyway so where the fuck is AFO right now, motherfucker I just want to talk.)

by the way can Ojiro just extend his tail to whatever fucking length he wants or what because it’s like twelve feet long in this panel lol

WOOO FUCK YEAH TOKOYAMI

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!! BUT WHERE’S YOUR FLASHBACK? YOU’VE HAD A BUNCH OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, THAT’S NOT FAIR

okay so now Satou’s stepping in which is back to my anticipated order, so maybe Toko will finish his little moment afterward

dskfjfkk

“REMEMBER THAT TIME DEKU BORROWED SATOU’S FOOD COLORING” Horikoshi says, sweating. “AND REMEMBER THAT TIME HE, UM, SMILED IN HAGAKURE’S GENERAL DIRECTION”

actually I am curious about what Hagakure’s part will be because, you know, the whole traitor thing lol

(ETA: funny how we just skipped right over it huh. can we get a traitor reveal countdown started here? definitely getting close to that time.)

whoa lol wtf

MOMO??? THIS HAS MOMO WRITTEN ALL OVER IT DAMMIT

-- SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK

“SORRY MIDORIYA-SAN, I LEFT MY FUCKING CHILL AT HOME IN THE LOCKER NEXT TO IIDA’S HELMET” holy shit lmao

and here I thought she’d get a flashback to her time on the Baku Rescue Squad or something. but nope, no flashbacks from Momo, only terrifying sci-fi torture devices

poor Dark Shadow is such a trooper omg

“why am I the only one who has to make prolonged contact with his smelly disgusting self” taking one for the team there DS

FUCK YEAH KAMINARI NO JUTSU

THE PRICKLY BASTARD WHISPERER STRIKES AGAIN!! don’t suppose you brought any clean clothes you could sneakily force him into huh Kami

okay here we go, so now Shouji and Tokoyami are joining forces

um excuse me this is fucking awesome

wonder how he’ll break free? don’t think he’ll reveal Fa Jin until the end of the chapter, so maybe Air Force or something? idk

TOKO GETS AN EXTENDED MOMENT BECAUSE HE IS A TIER TWO PATREON REWARD LEVEL FRIEND YAY

WHY IS MOMO MAKING THIS FACE LOL YOUR THING WAS WAY WORSE

and Shouji just casually hitting him with what is easily the best comment from anyone yet. too bad Deku’s just gonna ignore it. you deserve better Shouji

KAMINARI OMFG

it only just occurred to me that Kami is currently trapped inside Dark Shadow right along with him lmao omg. realest one in the entirety of BnHA, right here. we will never forget your sacrifice

aaaaaaand Deku’s yeeting himself

do you really hate the thought of taking a bath that much my dude

oh shit the mask!!

-- oh shit the feels

o(TヘTo)

fuck. and I mean, we knew he was crying, that was a done deal. but still, to see him in this much pain is just...

and the acknowledgement that he knows they’re worried about him, but that it doesn’t change his mind one bit. this, right here, is why they have to be a bit harsh with him, you guys. because they’re up against the full, unbridled stubbornness of Midoriya fucking Izuku, and if they don’t match that stubbornness with an equal stubbornness of their own, they basically don’t stand a chance

(ETA: quick note that there is apparently another mistranslation here -- rather than saying that his friends are oblivious to the danger, what Deku is actually saying is that none of his friends have activated his Danger Sense once throughout this entire fight. which I had been wondering about, and it turns out Horikoshi actually confirmed it. so basically none of the kids bears any ill intent toward him, and there’s literal proof right there.

incidentally, as @class1akids​ pointed out, this also casts an interesting light on this chapter in terms of who hasn’t fought Deku yet. not to play the Hagakure Traitor Music for the billionth time you guys, but I’M JUST SAYING lol.)

anyway, but the good news is that they all seem to understand that. and the even better news is that we have reached the tier 3 friends!!

“OR ELSE” lol, great to see Shouto wielding his friendship just as aggressively as Deku once did towards him. I do love a good role reversal

p.s., ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “why is Shouto being so cruel to Deku can’t he see how hard this is on him”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: this is a callback to the classic “even heroes cry when they have to” Shouto line from chapter 137. Shouto is clearly following Kacchan’s lead here and going for the more ruthless approach, knowing that the gentle approach isn’t getting through to him (if anything it’s only making him more stubborn as we saw on the previous page). basically it’s his way of pointing out that even heroes are still only human, and so is Deku last time he checked

ah okay, and there Tsuyu is at last

okay real talk, I get why Tsuyu is included in the tier 3 friends, because she was one of the first people to team up with Deku going all the way back to USJ. but that said, this probably would have had more impact if their most recent interaction hadn’t been like 150 chapters ago

but anyway though it’s still a good speech. maybe not quite a cliffhanger-level speech, but a good speech nonetheless. in a way though, I’m glad to see that Horikoshi seemingly didn’t give a fuck whether he ended this on an actual cliffhanger or not for once

and that “headed toward the climax” part has me excited too, ngl. because if we really are getting to the so-called climax this soon, that makes me even more certain that there is indeed a DvK3 in the forecast. so I presume that next week (or I guess two weeks from now) will be the tier 3s along with the remaining tier 2s like Kirishima and Aoyama

and then after that, well... [orange and green banners being hoisted] [sound of screeching airhorns and vuvuzelas in the distance] [sound of All Might approaching in his car which I didn’t notice until I looked back at this page a second time whoops] THE PROPHECY WILL NOT BE DENIED