#hate is not the opposite of love

[natalievoncatte]

She had it. She actually had it, in her hands.

Myriad. The ultimate weapon of a dying race, brought to Earth to subjugate its people and rebuild an empire from a shattered world, possibly the key to saving this one. The key Lena needed to unlock Non Nocere and

(take over)

heal the world. End all strife. Eradicate all conflict. No more pain. No more deceit. No more greed, or cruelty, a world without malice, a peace without end.

No more lies.

It was in her hands, such a small petty little thing, barely more than a trinket.

Lena dropped it too sharply on the stainless steel lab table, took three steps, and vomited, the contents of her stomach noisily splashing at her feet. It was the effects of portal travel, she told herself- like jumping from a great height and into cold water at the same time.

(oh god what did I do)

She just needed a few moments to steady herself, collect her bearings, clean up.

(oh god oh god I hurt her what have I done)

Then, she could begin her work immediately. She shrugged out of her coat and found a bottle of vodka, hardly her weapon of choice, and took a pull straight from it to wash the

(pain away)

sour taste of her own puke out of her mouth and dull the sour churning in her stomach, because she couldn’t get the image out of her head, the image of Kara lying broken on the fortress floor with green lines of agony carved in her flawless skin and the most heartbroken look of remorse and fear in her eyes.

(Lena don’t do this)

(please don’t do this I’m SORRY)

Snatching the Myriad core from the lab table, she went to shove it into place. The final work would take only a few hours and then…

Lena stopped. Her hand hovered inches above her work. All she had to do was make the connection, but something was stopping her, as if her own arm revelled against her. She tasted puke and alcohol in her mouth and she was crying, hot tears burning down her cheeks in razor lines.

(Lena please)

No more lies.

It was heavy in her hand, the alien device suspiciously heavy and cool to her touch. Why didn’t she just do it? She was here, key in hand, ready to open the door and she couldn’t do it. Why?

Gritting her teeth, Lena took it in both hands, staring at it.

This was good. This was right. Lena had given Kara everything. Everything! Her friendship, her support, her comfort, her secret council. She killed her own brother for her and what did she get in return? Lies! Deception!

(soft hugs and kind words and powerful arms shielding her from harm and strong hands… holding her)

It had all meant nothing. It was all a lie.

Right?

It was, wasn’t it? It was! It had to be, she needed it to be! If it wasn’t, if she was wrong, then she betrayed and tortured the only person who cared about her for what? For this fucking thing?

Lena held Myriad over her head. She hadn’t even been aware she’d raised it high, ready to smash it to the ground. Bringing it down, she stared at the device and saw a stranger’s face, a distorted visage of a pale, stress-thinned woman with red-rimmed eyes.

Oh God.

The watch! There was still time. It still had the coordinates.

Lena’s hand hovered over the watch. She could push the button and erase the only way she’d ever reach the fortress again, and it would be decided. She’d make it permanent, make it real. She could finalize the destruction of the most important relationship she’d ever had. Deny Kara. Give her up.

(leave her locked in a cage of agony)

Lena pressed the button.

The portal opened behind her with a gust of wind.

She stepped through.

The first thing that hit her was the cold. She didn’t think to put her coat back on.

The second thing was a right hook from Alex Danvers that sent Lena sprawling across the floor and Myriad spinning out of her grip.

��You bitch,” Alex snarled. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. I should have put a bullet in the back of your head the first time you set foot in my town.”

Alex stood over her, boiling with fury.

“I knew it was all a lie. I knew! I know what you did. You and your little lip bites and your flirty looks and your coffee dates. Was breaking my little sister’s heart part of the plan or just a sadistic bonus?”

For once in her life, Lena was truly speechless. She stared up at her attacker, absently touching the trickle of blood from her split lip.

“I didn’t, I wouldn’t,”

“You fucking did,” Alex hissed. “How dare you come back here? Didn’t you steal enough? Was the rest of the armory too much temptation for you?”

“I couldn’t leave her,” Lena choked out.

“Alex,” a harsh voice rasped, “that’s enough.”

Kara was on her feet, clutching her side. The Kryptonite had left her pale and pallid and hunched over a little, her normally bright eyes dull.

Lena pushed herself to her feet, wobbled, and started for Kara.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex stepped between them.

“I said that’s enough,” said Kara, pushing past her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena blurted. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Kara I…”

“Shhh,” Kara whispered. “It’s okay.”

Lena’s hands seemed to move on their own, palms cupping Kara’s cheeks. God, she was cold. She was shivering. Kara was shivering. She leaned into Lena’s grasp, falling against her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Kara said, gathering Lena in her arms.

“The hell it is,” Alex cut in. “Jesus Christ, she robbed the Fortress of Solitude! She hurt you, Kara!”

“I hurt her first.”

“Kara, she’s right.”

Kara shook her head.

“You can’t just forgive her!” Alex almost screamed.

Kara looked at Alex, then at Lena.

“You’re forgetting. I’m Supergirl. I can do anything.”

The tears began to flow and Lena couldn’t stop them. She collapsed into Kara’s arms and sobbed, her body shaking with exertion.

Alex bent down and picked up Myriad.

“Give me that,” said Kara.

Alex looked at her quizzically, and placed the device in Kara’s hand.

She looked at it for a moment, then looked down at Lena.

“Do it,” Lena whispered.

Without the slightest appearance of effort, Kara closed her hand and the device exploded between her fingers, circuits and alien technology clattering to the floor.

“Let’s go home,” said Kara. “I think we need to talk.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Halloween! 🧼🥩🎃

[bridge-arsonist]

Why The Voice Of The Cold Hates The Narrator

Replaying the Nightmare -> Wraith route and I'm realizing...

Jesus fucking christ, The Cold hates the narrator. Honestly, I think he might just give Smitten or Contrarian a run for their money.

He:

Doubts every word the narrator speaks

Insults the narrator whenever he gets the chance

Actively suggests killing the narrator, even stating that the princess could help do that

Not only suggests killing the narrator, but also suggests that—no—actually, death is too good for the guy. They should lock the narrator in a void just like the fake good ending. Mind you, this route doesn't even have the narrator do that!

Mocks the narrator when he finally gives up on trying to make you slay the princess

Seems happy that the narrator is gone, saying he had a feeling The Wraith could deal with him

I'm pretty sure Cold over here'd rather be playing Slay The Narrator.

Really though, upon further reflection, The Cold's hatred for The Narrator is also prevalent in The Spectre, where one of the few things he actually seems to have a firm stance on is "We should kill the Narrator". In the Greys, though he's arguably at his most nihilistic, he still seems to oppose the Narrator. He joins the Skeptic in his suspicions, and though he mostly just seems to be having a time provoking Smitten during the Burned Grey, he still does take the occasional second to spite the Narrator.

And honestly, come to think about it, it makes sense. After all, the Cold manifests not necessarily from slaying the Princess, but more specifically, from killing yourself. But not just from killing yourself, slaying yourself in The Tower at the hands of the Broken doesn't manifest him, but specifically by killing yourself to spite the narrator. I mean, other than Empty Cup and Moment of Clarity (Where we don't actually know how he manifested due to the timeskips), each iteration of Cold's manifestation checks out.

Spectre: You slay her, get the good ending, but then decide "fuck this and fuck your contruct", and stab yourself even as the narrator repeatedly urges you not to.

Burned Grey: You kill the Damsel, and in a fit of rage against both you and the narrator, the Smitten kills you, even as the narrator urges him not to. (Funnily enough, this means that, despite the Smitten's line of "you killed her, and so I killed you", it was the opposite, and the Smitten manifested the Cold)

Drowned Grey: You kill the Prisoner, and, just like in the Spectre's route, you kill yourself even as the Narrator urges you not to. If you refuse to kill yourself, Skeptic does it for you, seeming apologetic towards you, but definitely not towards The Narrator.

Wraith: You kill yourself as the Narrator urges you not to, and Paranoid also spends this route doubting the Narrator.

These routes involve various levels of emotion for the Princess, ranging from "My love! Still gonna kill you though" to "So scary! Still gonna kill you though", and an overall perception of the Princess as a corpse. But the Narrator? In all of the routes leading up to Cold's manifestation, the Narrator is met with hostility, usually leading to you killing yourself out of a mix of spite and suspicion.

So Cold's manifestation has two constants:

Some level of apathy towards the Princess, regardless of your previous interactions with her. Whether she's your perfect damsel or your worst nightmare, you don't care. You stab her.

Disregard for your own safety. You're just going to stab yourself, cool. It's better than this hell. Sometimes it's another voice fulfilling this requirement for you, like Smitten in the Damsel, or Skeptic in Prisoner depending on whether or not you willingly die.

Distaste towards the narrator. A conclusion that the Narrator is untrustworthy and distinctly not on your side. No matter how you manifest the Cold, it is clear that you do not like this pesky raven one bit. The Nightmater -> Wraith route shows this through Paranoid's constant suspicion of the Narrator. This distaste frequently, thought not always, occurs due to the Narrator attempting to force you to live out your life in the void, though it can also occur due to the Narrator attempting to make you live a life without the one thing you cherish (Damsel route).

Apathy towards most things, but one thing's for certain: You don't trust that Narrator guy. He tried to make you live out a crappy, boring life for eternity.

Cold's attitude makes sense when you look at how he was created. Just like Smitten was made by deciding the princess was an immediately trustworthy damsel in need of rescuing from the pesky narrator, or that the witch is a gorgeous woman whom you can save by giving your blade in spite of the narrator's wishes—Cold is made through deciding that neither your nor the princess's safety particularly matters, but fuck that narrator guy. He sucks. As apathetic as the Cold likes to act, he reacts to Smitten's threats and the Princess's murder attempts with "interesting", and reacts to the Narrator's explanation of the timeline with "we should kill him".

So, my point?

Well, I think that—not only does the Cold hate the Narrator—but hating the Narrator is part of him as a voice. He's cold, apathetic, and he hates the Narrator. It's been baked into his very being through the choices that you make. The princess doesn't matter, your physical well-being doesn't matter, but know that the Narrator is an untrustworthy little prick.

TLDR: Replaying Wraith made me realize that the Cold probably hates the Narrator very very much, and he does so because it is baked into his very being because of the choices you made to manifest him. You go, king. Let your inner hater run free.

[flovoid]

who will take the fall who of us is stronger you’ll just want it more if you could, you’d have fought it  but you know you’re not  from the start, they knew you were wrong

[aurorangen]

The twins must have slept all day because they did not want to sleep by bedtime! They wanted to play all night, but eventually, the fun tired out Louis who was starting to act quite the opposite of his brother.

[some-pers0n]

I dislike how the concept of "comfort games" has been relegated to these cutesy and soft pastel and bright cheerful games where you just walk around aimlessly or fish/farm/whatever. Minimal gameplay in exchange for aesthetics and charm. More power to the people who love those games, but for me a comfort game is like a high-octane nightmare gauntlet where I have to be alert at every second less I fail and have to restart again

[sofiaruelle]

I think I like this lil life.

[sleepybitnation]

Noticed an interesting parallel.

For Kaito’s line in chapter 3- it’s when Maki was struggling with her real talent being exposed and hid in her room sorta accepting the fact that everyone views her that way now

For Maki’s line in chapter 5- it’s when Kaito was dealing with the effects of his illness and emotionally distancing from the group in order to maintain the idea that he’s Perfectly Fine

In both of these, they’re aware the other is hiding behind a mask of sorts (for Maki she sees herself as a heartless killer, while Kaito sees himself as the hero everyone relies on), but they also see past that in each other and are aware they are struggling. Hence the concerned looks and Those Lines.

I thought it was cool because their dynamic is often dismissed as Kaito simply helping her, but in reality they were both there for each other and in a way that’s equal rather than him playing “hero” with her. When one of them was suffering, rather than leaving them to deal with it on their own like they’re both used to, they said stuff like this and went out of their way to look out for each other.

I find it interesting how they similarly struggle with feeling like they have to be strong for those who rely on them. It makes sense they’d see right through it in each other because they understand that pain. I love equals

[plorpl]

Where’s that text post that’s like “Wilson is kind, gentle death and House is rough, painful life” because first of all, GO OFF; second of all, I have more to add:

House is justice; Wilson is clemency.

House is harsh truth; Wilson is comforting lies.

House is abrasive idealism; Wilson is resigned realism.

House is spiky vulnerability; Wilson is velvet guardedness.

House is constructive cruelty; Wilson is destructive kindness.

House is focused passion; Wilson is diffuse romance.

House is a gleeful perpetrator; Wilson is a willing victim.

House is self-sabotage; Wilson is self-sacrifice.

[the-random-phan]

Ectoberhaunt Day 13

Isekai: Old Hero New World

[starry-bi-sky]

Love and hate can sometimes cross wires - DPXDC Ficlet

She props her up against the far wall, and kneels before her, fingers deceptively gentle against her cheek. Danyal is cold and trembling, her once bronze skin now dull. She meets her other half— self— sister— mother— predecessor’s eyes, and they are still wet. But now they are sharp, focused on Her face.

Danyal takes a shuddering breath, one that wracks itself down her spine. One that She can feel sinking into her — their? — shared soul. “You’re going to kill me.” She says, matter of fact, something like grief choking in her voice, making it shake.

She blinks at Her mother—sister—friend— predecessor, a feeling She knows is horror but thinks is hatred filling up Her lungs. Her cool palm trails kind down to her throat, Her talon fingers wrapping around the fragile skin. With very little effort, She could break her little neck. “Yes.” She murmurs, a sound only the two of them can hear. “I am.“

Her mother-sister-other half— predecessor shudders again, and yet makes no sound. Simply goes limp with acceptance in her arms. She doesn’t bother to even fight; she looks tired. Make it quick, it’s like she says.

I will. She promises, running the gentle padding of Her thumb along her jugular. It’s the only mercy She thinks She’ll ever give. But first…

“Give me a name?”

(Mother— sister— mine—) Danyal stares at Her, confusion parting her slowly paling lips. There’s silence between the two, thickening the air like the rise of an oncoming storm. Hurt and rage begins to toil beneath Her skin. Was the thought of naming Her so abhorrent, that she’d rather not say a thing at all? Her name is nothing?

Before She can take Her anger out, Danyal breathes in sharp. The sound is painful, jarring like jags of broken glass. She raises a hand, her palm — rough and calloused, proof of her fourteen years of life, of hardship — finds Her cheek too. It’s almost loving, the way Danyal swipes her thumb across Her skin, her clammy fingers tucking a strand of hair behind Her ear.

An emotion sweeps across her, boiling and toiling, burning hot and consuming her whole. Thick, bubbling in her throat, curling behind her teeth and under her tongue and tinging her peripherals with spots. An overwhelming emotion.

It must be hatred, she thinks. What other feeling can encompass one so much?

When Danyal breathes out, so with it comes a name; “Layal.”

Danyal always did love the nights.

(If you ask the Mother of Monsters why she killed Danyal al Ghul, she’ll tell you it was because she loved hated her.)

[natalievoncatte]

“Okay,” Alex said, “listen, prepare yourself. She’s acting… strange.”

Lena strode next to her, clenching her fists as if she could grip her own cold fury with them. The audacity of Danvers

(Alex)

to call her in like she was some employee after what Kara had done to her, was shocking. She would have told her to fuck right off if not for the desperation in her voice. She almost hung up on her when Alex said it was about Kryptonite, and they needed an expert.

Outside the exam room, Alex directed Lena’s attention to a screen. Some two-bit “villain” (how she hated that word) was on the screen. She wasn’t sure what he was going for with his outfit but he looked like a cross between a cable repairman and a wannabe Ghostbusters with a helmet that reminded her of the cap on a salt shaker. He was thrusting a wand device at Kara, spraying her with a fine pink mist.

Some of the substance had been gathered into a small vial, currently residing in a lead canister. Lena turned the vial in her hands, watching the tiny, powdery crystals flow over each other like sand.

Lena swallowed, hard.

“She’s not on a rampage, so it’s not red kryptonite.”

“It appears to be pink kryptonite,” said Lena.

“Your scientific skills of observation astound me,” said Alex. “Marie Curie would be so proud.”

Lena gave her a flat look.

“Fuck you, Danvers. I haven’t had a chance to say this to your face yet, but fuck you. Fuck all of you, playing your little games mocking me to my face when we were supposed to be friends.”

“We were friends,” said Alex.

“Not friends enough for Kara to tell me the truth.”

“I told her not to,” Alex said, coldly, “and I was right. Maybe I kept at her too long about it, but she ended up keeping the secret because she was afraid you’d flip out and blow up your whole friendship over it, you fucking drama queen.”

Lena screwed the lead canister shut. It looks like it was meant to hold radioactive flour.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“Please save her. I’m prepared to deal with your sanctimonious bullshit if you save my sister.”

“I’ll need to work on the sample, but I should examine her first. Is it safe?”

“She would never hurt you.”

Lena rolled her eyes. Alex stared at her flatly.

“You two, Jesus Christ. If you were anyone else I’d just call it out, but fuck it, let’s keep this professional.”

Lena crossed her arms. “Call what out?”

Alex arched a brow. “Should I start with the office full of flowers or the literal billion dollars you spent on her?”

Lena’s nostrils flared and she felt red creeping up her cheeks. “That wasn’t about her, that was about keeping Edge from owning his own media empire. Murdoch is bad enough.”

“It’s a fashion industry magazine,” said Alex, “and Edge could just start his own. The difference is Kara worked at CatCo, where you started working instead of…”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Lena huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Alex opened the door. Kara was seated sideways on the exam table, swinging her feet like a bored child. There was a faint pinkish tinge to sparking points on her pale skin and she looked up with a slight pink gloss to the whites of her eyes, visible at a distance.

“Heyyyyyyyyy~”, said Kara.

Lena blinked.

“Kara? How are you feeling?”

Kara stared at her hands. “Why are you here? I thought you hated me now.”

Lena felt a sharp sting of regret deep in her chest, but brushed it off, like crumbs from her sleeve. It was as meaningless as crumbs. Kara’s honeyed words were always to sweeten her lies.

Kara resumed staring at her hands. “Humans call them fingers, but I’ve never seen them fing. Oh,” she giggled, wriggling her fingers, “there they go.”

“Kara?” said Lena.

“Oh, hi, I didn’t see you come in,” said Kara. “Some dude sprayed me with glitter and now I’m all funny.”

Alex leaned over. “We only got her in her by convincing her the Backstreet Boys were waiting inside and she spent three hours singing those stupid songs with Nia before I called you.”

Lena licked her lips. “Ah, I see. Kara?”

“Yeah, babe?”

Lena flinched. Babe? What?

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel great,” said Kara. “Kinda… kinda relaxed but excited. I’m excitalaxed! I made up a new word!”

“Would you excuse us a minute?” said Lena.

“Sure,” said Kara.

Lena stepped out and closed the door after Alex joined her.

“Alex,” said Lena.

“Lena,” said Alex.

“She’s high,” said Lena.

“I know,” Alex sighed.

“That’s incredibly dangerous. If she was just a dumb blonde we could let her sleep it off, but she can bench press an aircraft carrier. What if she gets some inane idea in her head and levels half the city?”

“She isn’t going to hurt anyone.”

“Didn’t she throw Cat Grant off a building the last time she was under the influence of something? It was on TV, Alex.”

Alex scowled. “That was different. Also she had it coming.”

Lena’s brows shot up.

“What? She was a bitch to my sister. She made her cry like three times a week. I don’t buy into that hardass girlboss mentor routine, I never liked Kara working for her. It was a relief when you bought the company, I had hopes someone would finally be looking out for her. She’s fragile, Lena.”

Lena blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, turns out that having your planet explode and losing your entire culture, family, and way of life, then losing your foster father, and then having to kill your aunt who is your mother’s twin sister can do a number on you. Might make you a little bit clingy and weird and paranoid about losing everyone you love. Shit, Lena, out of that whole list I just lost my dad and it was not make me a drunk for six years and captain of the varsity slut team. And I’m gay.”

Lena stared at her.

“Why does everyone I know need therapy?”

Kara chose that moment to throw the door open, making them both jump. She was grinning ear to ear.

“I don’t need therapy, I need rum,” said Kara. She turned to Lena and stage whispered, “alien rum that I can get drunk on.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kiddo. Why won’t we go sit down and try to rest.”

Kara snapped her fingers. “I know what we can do! We can go clubbing! Come on, Lena, let’s go clubbing. If I go clubbing with you it’ll make Lena jealous.”

“We are so fucked,” Alex muttered.

Kara started forward, but Lena stepped in her path and pressed a hand to her chest.

She froze, staring open-mouthed at Lena. Lena could feel the muscles flexing under her palm and fingers, the nearly infinite strength pressed against her simple touch and yet yielding to it.

“Kara,” she said, softly, but firmly. “Let’s just go back in the room, okay? You’re intoxicated by the altered Kryptonite you’ve been exposed to and you’re not thinking straight.”

Kara looked her up and down, slowly. Lena felt a hot tingle pass through her and her legs quivered in her slacks. Kara’s eyes had gone dark and her chin dipped slightly and holy shit she was staring directly at Lena’s mouth.

Alex looked at her nervously.

“Lena,” Alex said, in warning.

“She won’t hurt me,” said Lena.

Brainy walked into the lab. “I have good news,” he said. “The half-life of this particular type of Kryptonite is very short, by my calculations it should only last a few… hours…” he trailed off, then added quickly. “I have business elsewhere, excuse me,” and fled the room.

Lena gave Kara a tentative push and the invincible Kryptonian stumbled back. Lena ended up guiding her into the room again and sat her down.

Alex began to follow.

“It’s fine,” said Lena.

“Are you sure?”

“She won’t hurt me. Close the door.”

Kara sat down and stared between her feet, fiddling with her hands.

Lena waited for the door to close and sat down next to her.

“Are you mad at me?” Kara whispered.

“Yes,” Lena murmured. “I’m so angry at you that it makes me want to scream.”

“Oh,” Kara said, her voice small.

Lena sighed. “I’ll never be mad enough to let anything happen to you, Kara.”

“But you’re mad.”

“I’m mad. I let you in, you didn’t do the same for me. I let you see who I am, good and bad, and you held back from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“But you’re still mad.”

“Yeah,” Lena sighed.

Kara rubbed at her arms, sniffling.

Great, Lena thought, she’s coming down.

“Everybody changes,” said Kara. “Everybody goes away and leaves me. I’m so scared, Lena. I’m so scared of being alone. I was alone forever and ever in my pod and it hurt so much,” she choked out a little sob. ���Everyone goes away and I can’t take it. I can’t stand it. I didn’t want you to go away so I lied to make you stay. I’m sorry.”

Lena, haltingly, put an arm around her. Kara leaned her head on Lena’s shoulder.

“Can I make it so you’re not mad at me anymore?”

Curious, Lena thought.

She wasn’t mad at all right now.

Kara began to sob softly, and suddenly, all at once, being mad didn’t make so much sense after all. She still felt it burning in her chest but it had gone from hot coals to dying embers, from raging magma to something bitter and sticky coating her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

“I think you can do anything if you try hard enough.”

Lean smoothed back her hair and curled the sleeve of her designer jacket around her hand and used it to dry the tears, and Kara hugged her, tightly but gently in her insistent way.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, darling. Just relax and breathe, I promise it’ll be better soon.”

It was a funny thing, when Kara kissed her. It happened so naturally, so easily, that once it began, Lena was hardly aware how it started. It was not a lustful kiss, though she could feel that was there in the hungry way that Kara’s lips tugged at her own, almost pleading. Nor was it sad. It was hopeful, and it made something flare in her chest.

No, more than that. A crushing blast of warm air snuffed the dying embers of fury in her chest and in their place a new bonfire blazed into being, a sudden explosive joyful warmth that would blaze in her forever until the sun went out and the sky went cold. It was as if Kara had given her some red sun fire.

On instinct she lunged into the embrace and suddenly they were on the table, Kara swinging one leg lazily off the side as Lena straddled and locked lips with her.

"Oh God," Lena blurted, yanking back.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Lena almost fell off onto the floor when Kara called her that. She was sitting on Kara, panting.

"We can't," said Lena. "Kara, please, you're high as a kite."

Kara let out a soft, sad sound. Lena brushed her cheek softly. "It's okay. Just let me lay with you."

Kara shifted so Lena could join her, and they lay facing each other.

"I love you," Kara whispered. "You are my red sun, my scarlet sky, my beacon calling me back from the void."

Lena's breath caught. She tucked in close and kissed Kara on her nose.

"I'm tired," said Kara.

"Go to sleep," Lena whispered. “It'll be okay. I'll still love you tomorrow."

With a contented smile, Kara closed her eyes, looking so peaceful that Lena wanted nothing more than to watch over her.

When Alex came in and laid a blanket over them, she had the most frustrating grin on her face.

Lena decided she'd allow it.

[oifaaa]

One of my recent Jason posts has people talking about how valid a writers portrayal of a character is if that writer hates that character which is an interesting conversation specifically when it comes to Jason bc in case you didn't know a lot of writers do not like Jason but also a good few of the writers who hate Jason have also written some of his better stories

Basically what I'm saying is someone should make an alignment chart with one line being how much a writer loves or hates jason and the other line being how good the writer is at writing Jason

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

hunter and luz: talk about belos and the magic system, open up to each other about their trauma and fears, rescue each other from dire circumstances

hunter and amity: relate to each other as abused children and perfectionists who are afraid of letting people down

hunter and gus: relate to each other’s experiences of being used by people and helps calm each other down in a moment of distress, also finds a common middle ground with a piece of media they both enjoy

hunter and willow, the literal love interests: uhhh both of them are considered half a witch because one of them was a late bloomer and the other is literally disabled?

[cl-0v3r]

Im going to be really upset if MelJay does break up.

But I'm not worried about the breakup itself, but rather how insufferable THOSE people will be about it.

Considering how much this fandom loathes this ship and acts like it's venom, its safe to say they will be celebrating the breakup like there's no Tomorrow ESPECIALLY if Mel was the one to initiate the breakup, Jayce hate will fly through the roof and Mel will be mischarecterized to the power of 60. And not to mention the toxics will be annoying as fuck to MelJay lovers. Like, there's countless posts defending s1 Meljay right? Talking about how its not problematic and all of that, i know these mofos will come back to rub it all over your face if just the slightest bit of distancing happens between them.

I don't like most of the fandom very much, I've had similar experiences to this over on tiktok and I've seen it happen in twitter (of course) and discord and I wish not to see that again.

I don't want to see MelJay break up, or have relationship issues, because they're literally the loves of my life, my babies I swear. but I won't really deny it if it does happen, its the writers choices and there's going to be a proper reason why (its lowk not looking good for both of them so) i will PROBABLY eat everything up either way, and I won't stop shipping them, like, i can probably just stay focused on the s1 version of them or something.

But the people man, the people scare me so much, I'm not ready to fight for my life like I did s1 😭

So like, If I see the slightest bit of attitude, i'm blocking. Dramatic yes, its a fictional ship, yeah, I know, I don't care.

Also; no I will not be defending either of their actions if they had actually done something horrible (neither should anyone), and if they are toxic or become so, i will not glorify or try to excuse anything. I will try to enjoy whatever is given, a wrong stays a wrong even if I (or you) doesn't like it. I cannot change any outcomes.

[ssaseaprince]

Can we talk about how Derek obviously has a type because Spencer and Penelope are so similar.