#jacks with long hair allegory

[r3therat]

Okay, I believe I am the only person who has this opinion, but when I read the caraval series, I imagined Jacks with a ponytail. In my mind, he had slightly long hair and it was up in a ponytail for some reason. I soon realized my mind had failed me.

When I then read ouabh I just imagined him with shoulder-length hair, but apparently I'm still incorrect.

I NEED LONG HAIR JACKS

I need to draw long hair Jacks.

Yep.

I will eventually, just you wait.

[susandsnell]

Crane: 12, 27, 30

Thanks so much for sending this! <3

Send a character and a number/several numbers, and i’ll answer:

12. Sexuality hc!

I have my biases in this, I'll admit, but I genuinely read the not-so-good Doctor as bi/pan in that I don't think he particularly cares about gender when it comes to his attractions and there's textual support over the years with various iterations of him showing interest in or having chemistry with both women and men. Yes, yes, Have a Gay Old Time and all that, but his intro comic suggests, "he certainly is a queer fellow" - given that his Year One backstory is a gender-flipped Carrie, itself popularly read as a gay allegory (hell, I think his bullies even were specifically homophobic towards him), given the long affinity between LGBT+ folk and horror/identifying with the horror monsters, and even given how blissed out Nolan!Crow looked getting his hair pulled by Batman, I'd say there's a lot to work with there.

27. If they could meet a character from another show/movie/etc, who would be the most fun for them to meet?

Absolutely love this one! I've already had a ton of fun speculating with you about him meeting Dani Ardor of Midsommar, fitting because she's even a psych major if I remember correctly, and going back and forth with what could be done with such an AU. Honestly, any horror villain and/or hero(ine) would suit him because what's so great about Crane is that as Scarecrow he works within any text to reveal a character's deepest fears and relationship with fear, while also having an academic/professional interest in them as a psychiatrist. I do think I've seen posts on here speculating on the fun he'd have with Jack Seward as a potential ally and/or rival/disappointing colleague, so that's a definite one also! And because I'm predictable, it would likely not be healthy (in that he would enable/encourage her most violent instincts, but hey, at least theyr'e supporting each other?) but at least a little touching and sweet that he'd be a needed avuncular figure to Carrie White.

30. The funniest scene they had? Oh, gosh, hard to pick just one! When old school Crane declared his plan was to commit heists for more money to buy books? When he beefs it so completely and utterly with Becky and has the chutzpah to think her issue with him is that she wants him to alter that godawful Mistress of Fear straw corset and muppet mask costume? "This is a perfectly rational response to my traumatic experiences, and if you don't believe me, I'll kill you!"? His little dance of joy out the window in the first volume of Year One? The entirety of his appearance in Happy Halloween, Scooby Doo, an extension of his habit of just Showing Up Places He Has No Business Being (including other canons)? On that note, literally everything he does in the Dark Knight Trilogy as he Barbies his way through every villainous profession in Gotham's gig economy? (Though going down that easy in Batman Begins and his sassy little strut out of the truck in The Dark Knight are highlights.) For such a frightening and tragic character, the guy is funny as hell!

[firendgold]

If you're still doing the choose violence ask game: 2 (👀), 9, 10, 22 ?

I got such a rush from finally answering the first ask that I'm doing this for as long as people send me questions. So here we go again!

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

anon, I'm at work. I'm seeing this at work. :'D

Okay, serious face. Albus Dumbledore is probably my fave if I have to choose between him and Harry on this blog. I just have to figure out why he would never...

Bottom. Albus would never, I'm sorry. He won't. He can't. Like, maybe when he was having his whirlwind summer romance with Gellert, he bottomed every single time they fucked because he was so in love and this was his equal and his partner and so what if he was a little rough and distant sometimes in the bedroom, and always wanted to top and tug his hair and hiss out orders? This was The Man The Universe Had Crafted For Him, and he would absolutely bottom for him every time... and then the summer of 1899 ends. And Ariana dies. And Aberforth breaks Albus' nose. And Gellert fucks off to go be a fascist.

And Albus, alone and heartbroken, resolves to never trust someone that completely again, never love someone that same way, and never let anyone get into a position of power over him where they might be able to use his knowledge and talents for ill. That means physically, emotionally, spiritually, psychologically... carnally. So he has sex with plenty of other people, and even falls in love with a few of them, but he is in control at all times. He never bottoms again.

That's all I've got for that one.

9. worst part of canon

So the first answer that came to mind is posted here, but for fairness' sake I'll try to come up with another worst thing. (That's not related to ships, because I'm trying really hard not to be THAT violent on the violence ask game.)

I think... that if That Woman was going to introduce international schools, students and characters in the middle book of the series, she should have done more with them than having them vanish after Goblet of Fire, only to come back for either fake romantic tension and one line of exposition about the Hitler allegory Dark Lord of the Before-Times (Krum, Deathly Hallows) or to be married off to a Weasley for an aesop of It's Not About His Looks Now That They're Jacked Up (Fleur, Half-Blood Prince). I'm not saying Fleur and Viktor HAD to be best buddies forever with Harry, but it is weird that they have this unique bond that no other young students have had with each other in hundreds of years, they even lost one of their fellow champions, Dumbledore gives this very moving speech about remaining connected and not letting darkness and prejudice sever new ties, and then... nothing. No side adventures in France or wherever Durmstrang is, no communication from either side, nothing.

Feels like a huge letdown in hindsight.

10. worst part of fanon

Oh, no. That's not fair. There's just so many.

If I had to consolidate what I currently don't like about the HP fandom/fanon into a few lines, I think I would say that I hate the pureblood/Dark side apologism. I do believe in nuance in characters. I do believe redemption and/or walking different paths is an important theme in Harry Potter, and I think it's fascinating to explore that with any and every character you can think of, even characters I may not personally like. But I really, really hate the way the fandom has taken that and twisted it into this idea that we were sold a lie at the start: that the British magical government was fine the way it was, and so was the society around it; that Dark magic Isn't All That Bad, Really, and there are actually Good and non-prejudiced things about a few rich bitches passing down their knowledge and secrets and slurs for generations within the Family, and keeping the Family "Pure" is cool actually, and none of this has any relation to real life ideas about miscegenation and classism and racism and eugenics, what are you talking about?

It's just so worrying. As a minority, when I see people on tumblr/twitter/AO3 gleefully agreeing that we need to eat the rich and fix society and eradicate all the horrid -isms and -archys ruining all our lives, then watch them turn around and write a 200k epic where Dumbledore was the evil one for locking the Horcrux books away and championing marginalized members of society, Hermione is just uppity for wanting to make necessary changes to the darker parts of magical society that That Woman was literally pointing out for a reason, and Tom Riddle is only bad because he took the good segregationist pureblood ideas and added murder to them... and when that fic gets thousands of comments agreeing with them full stop with no examination of any of that... it makes me anxious, at a minimum. The same thing is happening now with Grindelwald now that he's actually a figure on the screen and not just some dude mentioned a few times in the book series: same apologism, same justification of atrocities, same good-guy-blame-games, same blorbofication even.

On the one hand... fiction doesn't always directly reflect or affect reality. On the other... this unironic pro-pureblood meta is a pervasive concept that has popped up in thousands of fics written by thousands of fanfic writers. It's happened for years, and it keeps happening, and I see very few fans speaking out against it or even acknowledging it as a problem. So that makes me ask myself, who actually is willing and able to examine the injustices of our society and build a better imaginary society through the lens of HP fanfiction, and who's okay with the prejudice in the HP world as long as it's coming from the faves they're attracted to?

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Happily, this is a harder question to answer because I've been finding so many like minds in the past 5 years who go feral over the same 20 HP scenes as I do. ^^ But give me a sec, I'll think of something.

...

Okay. Got it.

In order to answer this question, I have to go back to the first time I, young teenager, avid reader, recent reader of the HP series once book 5 was out, realized that Harry and Dumbledore had a much deeper relationship than just headmaster and student. The thing that made me latch on to them and project like crazy, basically.

It's the scene in Goblet of Fire chapter 36 where Harry has been rescued from Fake Moody and he's in Dumbledore's office with Dumbledore and Sirius. Dumbledore asks Harry to relay everything that happened to him once he touched the Portkey in the maze—and immediately Sirius tries to protect Harry from having to relive it now, so soon after it's happened. And then this scene happens.

Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question him. He was going to make Harry relive everything. “I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “We can leave that till morning, can’t we, Dumbledore?” said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let him have a sleep. Let him rest.” Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius’s words. He leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head and looked into those blue eyes. “If I thought I could help you,” Dumbledore said gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.” The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him. He took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s body, lying on the ground beside the cup. Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous were being extracted from him. It was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better.

This is one of the best scenes in the entire book, the entire series. It completely refutes the fanon Dumbledore who is often cold, cruel, inflexible and unrelenting in his quest for whatever the author wants him to be inflexible and cruel about at the time. It shows that Dumbledore, the real Albus Dumbledore, is one of the few people who understands what Harry needs and is able to provide it to him, even when others who also care for Harry would rather protect him or shield him from what he needs.

Kid me was particularly taken by how gentle Dumbledore is with Harry here. It made me look back and see how in some ways this scene, this closeness, is the culmination of all the times they've met and spoken before.

(You can imagine how painful it was reading Order of the Phoenix right after this.)

But yeah, that's probably one of my favorite scenes that other people ignore or haven't talked about/drawn/written about much. Which is ironic, because the scene right after that where Harry talks about Voldemort taking his blood and Dumbledore's eyes do the triumphant "lol Voldemort just fucked up" gleam is probably one of THE most talked-about scenes in the fandom (even though to this fucking day in 2023 people still don't realize what the gleam meant, when even That Woman has clarified what it meant in INTERVIEWS).

...And for me, safely at the end of the questions, that's all she wrote.

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Pain.

Kara thought she’d felt pain before, but it was nothing like this. It feels magnified a hundred thousand times. Every nerve ending seems to scream in excruciating agony.

As the other tubes unlatch and eject themselves from her spine and her limbs, the pain becomes too much. Kara blacks out.

She gains one small moment of consciousness, where she can open her eyes and lift her head weakly. She can feel hands supporting her, lifting her. A scratchy blanket that abrades her sensitive skin is wrapped around her shoulders.

Lights swim in her vision like starbursts, and she can vaguely make out shapes. She tries to focus… gains one moment to see as clearly as she can, and is rewarded by a welcome sight.

What she doesn’t know is that this is the first sight of another human that her eyes — her true eyes — have ever beheld.

Lena smiles at her softly. “Welcome to the real world, Kara.”

Matrix AU, Part II

In the middle of a lunch date — in which they had been discussing Plato’s allegory, which Lena had gifted to Kara at their last meeting — Lena’s phone rings.

“We’ve got trouble.” Brainy’s usual flat tone is pitched higher than usual. “Four agents incoming. The signature on one of them is familiar. I believe it may be your brother.”

Lena curses under her breath, her gaze slanting toward Kara, who is looking at her with confusion and concern. “Where are they?”

“Two of them just entered the building. One is on the fifth floor, but the signature that’s registering as your brother’s is coming up on your floor now. He’s still in the elevator, so that should give you less than five minutes. If you can get to the parking lot in the basement, Jack and Nia have gone in as back-up.”

“Aren’t there any L-Phones in the building?”

“The agents are destroying the extraction versions as we speak.”

Again Lena curses, louder this time, her frustration mounting. Damn that Lex, he always was a thorn on her side. “Alright. Stay on the line.”

Lena rises from the couch, and immediately crosses to her desk, withdrawing a new prototype headset for the phones from a secret drawer. As she puts them on, Kara follows her, her trademark crinkle prominent on her forehead.

“Lena? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Lena ignores her for a half-second, long enough to close the blinds around her office and get to the doors. Both women are facing the elevators, so they both see when the suited Agent walks through.

Lex’s face is impassive at first, but when he sees Lena and Kara, his face contorts into a smirk. He stalks toward Lena’s office, gaining speed as he goes. Lena manages to close the doors just before he reaches them, and she shuts them in her brother’s snarling face.

“Holy shit — Lena, who the hell was that???”

Lena exhales deeply, as she turns to face Kara for the first time since the phone call. Kara’s face has shock and confusion written all over it. “That was my brother.”

“Your brother— What??!”

Lena sighs. “I’m so sorry, Kara. I wish it didn’t have to happen like this. I don’t know if you’re ready for this, but I’m afraid we’re running out of time. There are things I wish I could say to you, but I can’t. All I can tell you is that right now, you’re in great danger.”

“Danger—? What?? From your brother? B-but why?” She looks beyond Lena to the closed doors.

“We don’t have much time.” Lena gathers Kara’s hands in hers and meets her eyes. “I swear to you, Kara, I will not let them hurt you. But for me to keep you safe, I need you to trust me.”

“Safe? Safe from what? Lena, what the hell is going on??”

Kara is panicking, and Lena can’t blame her, so she does the only thing that she knows can ground Kara. She slips her hands through Kara’s hair and cups her cheeks, holding her in place so that she can meet Lena’s eyes. And like always the tactile Kara stills at the touch.

Determined green meets frightened blue, and Kara’s exhale feeds into Lena’s next breath. “Do you trust me, Kara?”

She can feel Kara swallow under her fingers, but her answer comes quick. She nods, her head still trapped between Lena’s palms.

“I do.”

Lena exhales in relief. “Then stay close to me, and do exactly as I say.”

She lets go of Kara long enough to pull the office doors open.

But instead of opening into Lex’s snarling face, the doors open into the basement parking lot.

Kara’s mouth drops open as she looks from the sunny interior of Lena’s top-floor office, to the dim grey concrete of L-Corp’s basement parking lot. “What the heck???”

Lena pays no heed to her shock. She speaks into the mouthpiece. “Brainy, updates?”

“There are now agents all over the building. Seven in total. Street level is clear so far. Jack and Nia should be—“

The sound of a speeding car grows louder, and Kara looks up to see a black Bugatti heading right for them. Kara backs up quickly, pulling Lena along with her, but the car skids to a stop right in front of them, passenger side, its brakes screeching.

“—there any second.” Brainy finishes on the other line. Lena opens the doors and ushers Kara in. Kara only complies because it's Lena, but her confusion grows as she sees the car’s occupants.

The two people inside are dressed in all black, sunglasses covering their eyes. The driver, however, whips them off with a huge grin. Kara sees a young girl — probably twenty-two, twenty-three? — with bright, impish eyes. She shoots Lena and Kara a brilliant smile. “Hiya, really honored to meet you, Kara! Can I call you Kara?”

“Perhaps you could skip the introductions,” her companion, a man with a beard and a slight English accent, drawls lightly, “and floor it!”

“Right! Yeah, sorry! Where to, boss?” Nia looks through the rear view mirror at Lena. She’s already accelerating out of the parking lot before Lena can even reply. The car screeches dangerously, but they make it out to street level intact.

“Catco will be the safest place. The agents can’t get in there.”

The man in the passenger seat turns. “We can’t do an extraction at Catco, the program won’t let us. We should head to the hospital.”

Lena shakes her head. “That’ll be the first place they’ll look. Catco’s the only place they can’t go.”

“They’ll have Catco surrounded then.” The man gestures at Kara. “She’ll be trapped there.”

“I’m afraid Lena’s right.” Brainy pipes up through the headset. “There are already five agents at the hospital.”

Lena curses, her frustration mounting. “The children? And the other minds?”

“All safe, all evacuated as per protocol. Lar Gand switched the codes. As of now, it’s nothing but an empty office building. Rhea has gone to head Lex and the other agents off. She’ll keep them busy long enough for the facility to be relocated.”

“Good—“

Kara can’t keep it in any longer. “EXCUSE ME, BUT WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE??”

Everyone turns to her at her outburst. Nia watches her warily from the rear view mirror. “Who are you people? What the fuck is this? Lena?”

She turns to Lena, her eyes wild and confused. Lena holds up her hands to mollify her, and her heart sinks when Kara backs away from her slightly, leaning against the leather of the seat.

“I’m sorry, Kara. I know you must have a lot of questions. This is Jack” she points to the man in the passenger seat who gives her a small salute. “That’s Nia” the young driver gives her a winning smile. “And the person I’m talking to on the phone is Brainy, he’s our operator. They’re all allies. Our priority right now is to get you to a safe place. They’re coming after you—“

“Who’s they? Why are they coming after me? I’m nobody!”

“That’s not true, Kara.” Lena shakes her head vehemently. “You’re extraordinary. And if the Oracle is right, then you might just be the most important person in the whole Matrix.”

“Oracle — What?”

“I believe you know her as Cat Grant.”

“Cat— my boss??”

“Yes. She...” Lena’s lips quirk into a small, wry smile. “Let’s just say she knows a lot of things.”

“I don’t understand.” Kara shakes her head, her jaw still slack in shock and confusion as they speed through the streets of National City. “What the fuck is going on…?”

Lena draws just a little bit closer, trying to get Kara to meet her eyes. “Listen, Kara. I know there’s a lot going on, and this is a lot to process. I wish we had more time. I truly wish I could make this easy for you, but the truth is never an easy thing.”

“The truth? What truth?”

Lena opens her mouth to speak, but she’s cut off by Brainy yelling through the headset. “Incoming!”

That’s all the warning they get before the first bullet fires. Lena processes the first click, and ducks, pulling Kara down with her. Kara screams, but the bullet hits the rear window of the Bugatti and misses her head.

“Shit! Stay down!” Nia yells as she swerves to avoid the barrage of bullets coming at them. “Brainy, you couldn’t have given me more of a head’s up??”

“They came out of nowhere! Watch out, you’ve got another coming on your six.”

Nia swerves again, jolting everyone in the car. She speeds up like a bat outta hell and puts a truck between her and their attackers. Three seconds later, the truck is bearing down on them, right on their tail, nearly clipping the back of the car.

“Are you kidding me?” Nia grits through her teeth as she watches the truck get closer. She stomps on the accelerator, but the truck follows them doggedly. “Brainy, I can’t shake these guys! I’m gonna need an exit or back-up, whatever, just give me something!”

“Working on it! Just hold on for one… more… second…”

From Kara’s vantage point near the floor, she sees the man on the passenger side — Jack, Lena had said — straighten up and lithely maneuver his upper body out the window. She hears more gunshots, this time louder, and sees him leveling a gun at the truck driver.

Beside her, Kara sees Lena lift her skirt high enough to expose a holster on her thigh. How she had even hidden it there, Kara has no idea. Clearly, there’s a lot she doesn’t know about her new friend.

As Kara gapes, Lena draws a smaller gun from the holster. In between gunshots, Lena straightens up and fires at the vehicles following them.

Suddenly, Kara hears the roaring noise of what can only be a motorcycle engine blaring right beside them.

She lifts her head just enough to see a lean figure riding a Ducati streak past them in a blur of black and silver. The bike swerves right behind them, effectively cutting them off from the truck. The dark figure pulls out a gun and blows out the truck’s two front tires.

“YES!” Nia yelps from the front seat. She speeds up, putting more distance between them and the truck. “Brainy, you glorious little genius, I could kiss you!”

There’s a cough from Lena’s headset. “I-um — Well, yes, uh—“

“Get us to Catco, Brainy.” Lena interrupts, holstering her gun back under her skirt as the truck recedes into the distance. The bike follows them.

“Uh, yes, of course.” Brainy clears his throat. “Take Exit 2B and turn right. Take Delacourt, there’s traffic on Ayala Street. You should get to Catco in under 5 minutes with Nia’s driving.”

“We’ll be there in under three. Whooo!!!” Nia whoops.

She’s just as good as her promise, practically making the car jump into Catco’s basement parking lot with its speed. She screeches to a stop in front of the elevator, and the bike skids up right next to them.

The dark figure on the bike lifts their helmet off, and Kara is scrambling out of the car before she even knows it.

Her red hair is shorter than Kara remembers, shorter than she’s ever seen it, and cropped close to her head. Her face is sharper, too — cheekbones more prominent, and her eyes glinting with an edge Kara has never seen before.

But Kara would know her anywhere.

“Alex??”

That grin is all Alex, still familiar despite all the changes, and Kara launches herself at her sister. “Alex! You’re okay! You’re alive!!”

A laugh rumbles in Alex’s leather-clad chest. “I told you I was.”

“What happened to you??” Kara pulls away a little, but keeps her grip on Alex’s sleeves. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you? How devastated Mom has been? You’ve been gone for a year, Alex!”

“I know,” Alex looks away and sighs. “I didn’t want to leave you like that, but I had to. I wish I could explain—“

“And I wish everyone would stop saying that, and just explain it to me!” Kara lets go of her sister’s arm and twists around to look at Lena. Alex and Lena exchange looks, and Kara’s anger rises.

They know each other, her sister and her friend.

A pang of hurt and betrayal lances through Kara’s chest. Lena had known all this time where Alex was, and she never told Kara. Her eyes meet Lena’s, and she sees the guilt and contrition in shimmering green. She looks away and meets Alex’s, sees the same there.

“I want answers. I think I deserve that much.”

“Indeed you do.”

All their heads snap toward the intercom at the sound of Cat’s voice. “And this is a good place to find them.”

Across the parking lot, the elevator doors slide open, inviting them in. “Unfortunately, in most cases, answers just lead to more questions.”

They find Cat at the top floor in her familiar crystalline office, seated on her wingback chair like a queen on her throne. Her hands form a steeple under her chin, and she smirks when the five of them enter the room.

“Well, well. Isn’t this a motley crew?”

She surveys them, the queen looking out at her subjects. “Half of the Daxam, and half of the Manhunter. Such an assembly for just one extraction.”

Lena steps forward, meeting Cat’s gaze boldly. “We were followed by agents.”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting slow, Lena.”

Green eyes narrow, but Lena refuses to rise to the bait. “I programmed L-Corp myself. They shouldn’t have been able to catch our trail. Someone must have tipped them off.”

“Perhaps you have a rat in your ship.” Cat gives her a knowing look. “Or perhaps, you should’ve followed my advice, Lena dear… I told you — mind that soft heart of yours. It is both your biggest weakness and your greatest strength.”

A muscle twitches in Lena’s jaw, but she doesn’t look away from the older woman. It’s Cat who breaks their stare down first, looking simultaneously proud and amused. She sighs dramatically.

“Still, you managed to reach me and invoke sanctuary, which is a far better outcome than the alternative. And young Kara here will need to be debriefed on the situation.” Cat rises regally from her chair and rounds the table. She stops in front of Lena and levels her with a strict look coupled with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll remind you that this is neutral ground. You cannot extract anyone, not even a Potential, in my territory. Understood?” When Lena nods, Cat tips her chin up imperiously.

“Very well. I’ll leave you to it. The rest of you peons, follow me.”

“I hate it when she calls us that.” Nia grumbles under her breath. The others file out of Cat’s office without complaint, leaving Kara and Lena in the first awkward silence they’ve had in the entire time they’ve been friends.

Lena gestures towards Cat’s couches and sits down on one of them. When Kara deliberately sits on the opposite couch, she tries not to let it show how much it stings. Instead, she folds her hands on her lap and tries to figure out where to begin.

“I know you must have a lot of questions, Kara…”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Kara scoffs. “But my biggest question is, how could you not tell me about my sister?”

“I’m sorry, Kara,” Lena hangs her head. “I couldn’t tell you about her without telling you everything. The most I could do was guide the way. The truth is, this is bigger than your sister, bigger than you and me.”

“Alex was investigating Jeremiah’s disappearance.” Kara forces herself to meet Lena’s eyes, to try and find any lie in them. “Did you have anything to do with that? Did you have anything to do with Alex’s disappearance? What about those patients who died at the Luthor Family Hospital? What about the kids, Lena?”

“I swear to you, I wasn’t behind your father’s disappearance.” Lena opens her palms up in a gesture of transparency. “As for the children, they’re safe, and I would rather die than harm any of them.”

“But you are doing something to them at that hospital? Something illegal, otherwise those FBI agents wouldn’t be after you.”

“It’s easy to call anything illegal if you’re the one setting the rules.” Lena murmurs darkly. “I’m not hurting anyone at the hospital, Kara. I promise you. I’m preparing them.”

She takes a deep breath, struggles to find the words to explain. “I built the hospital specifically for people whose minds were ready — to find them, to offer them shelter and safety. I give them a place where they can prepare themselves and find the answers without the threat of agents coming after them. 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.”

She tilts her head, waiting for Kara’s permission to continue. When Kara nods, Lena takes a deep breath.

“About ten years before I was born, there was a young girl. Everyone thought she was just an ordinary teenager — exceptionally smart, but no different from other girls her age... Except she was far from ordinary. She could see things others couldn’t. She saw the world around her in a different way, and that made her very dangerous.”

Lena meets Kara’s eyes, and the intensity of that clear green gaze captivates Kara. “The Matrix decided this girl was dangerous to its continued existence and function, so she was taken away, trapped in a place between the Matrix and the real world.”

Lena clasps her hands together to steady them. “They call it the Phantom Zone. I…. I can’t tell you what it’s like. I’ve been fortunate enough that I’ve never been there. But we’re told that it’s a place where nothing exists. No people, no hope, no time, no escape. Everything is frozen in a sea of nothingness.”

Kara’s heart begins to pound, and she swallows thickly as she listens to Lena’s story. “The girl was forced to wait there all alone for years — lonely, scared and confused — waiting for a rescue that couldn’t come.”

The more Lena talks, the darker Kara’s eyes become, until they’re a stormy blue. Kara begins shaking her head, the crinkle on her brow growing.

“It wasn’t until years later that she was freed because of an anomaly. A glitch in the Matrix that caused an opposite reaction, thereby freeing her.” Lena’s hands tighten as her brother’s menacing face hidden by dark sunglasses flashes across her vision.

“But when she came back… she knew something was wrong. The world felt different to her. As if she didn’t fit into it right anymore. Not just because her parents weren’t there anymore. It was all of it. The whole world looked wrong, felt wrong. Like waking up from one dream into another.”

Across from her, Kara is listening to her with a look of dawning horror on her face. Her eyes have gained a wild look to them, and she’s pulled her hand away from Lena’s.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kara mutters, shaking her head over and over. Lena watches her, knowing the eventual fallout that is sure to follow. Kara jumps up, off the couch and away from Lena. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Lena tries to be the calming presence in the room, but she knows this is an impossibility. She tries anyway. “But I do, Kara. I wish I didn’t, but I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m leaving.” The words are final, exploding from Kara’s lips with a cry, but her voice shakes. She backs away from Lena, stalking toward the door. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here, but I don’t want any part of it!!!”

“You feel it, don’t you? You always have.”

Kara stops, but she doesn’t turn around. Her hands are tight at her sides.

Lena rises from her seat, facing Kara, willing her to turn. Her eyes bore into Kara’s back. “You feel how wrong all of this is. The way this place clouds your eyes, making you blind. The wrongness of it feels like a violation, like something eating you from the inside out. The way it feels like you’re suffocating in place while the world spins out of your control… You are not meant for this place, Kara, and you know it. Just as I did, a long time ago.”

Across the room, Kara holds her body so rigidly that she trembles from it.

“If you walk out of here, they will come for you, Kara. And I don’t know what they’ll do to you. You’ve always been too dangerous to stay here, the things you could be capable of… they’re afraid of it. Of you. I can’t make you stay, but I can’t protect you if you don’t trust me.”

“How can I trust you? After everything you’ve hidden from me?” Kara turns her head toward Lena in the slightest, her eyes burning.

Lena steps closer, her voice soft. “Because you know me, Kara… Despite all of my secrets, all of the things I couldn’t tell you, despite what you might believe now— I have always been myself with you.”

She approaches Kara slowly, and despite her rigid posture, the other woman lets her. When Lena is close enough to touch, Kara turns resolutely away.

“You wanted to know what the Matrix is? I can’t give you the answer.” Lena murmurs, her soft breath sending shivers down Kara’s spine. “I can show you the way, but you have to make the choice yourself.”

Kara’s jaw twitches. “And what choice is that?”

A small slip of paper slides from Lena’s hand into Kara’s at her side. “The choice to see the truth. To be free.”

Her fingers tighten reflexively around the card, but she deliberately refuses to read what’s on it.

Lena’s voice is little more than a whisper in Kara’s ear. “You’ll know where to find me.”

They lose Kara as soon as she exits Catco, just as Lena had expected. The others meet up with her at one of Lena’s safe houses across the city.

“You let her leave?!” Alex hisses incredulously. “What the hell, Luthor? Are you telling me my sister is out there, alone, with God knows how many agents on her tail?”

Lena returns Alex’s glare with a serene gaze. “She’ll be back. I know she will.”

“How the hell do you know that, huh? Are you saying you know my sister better than I do?”

Lena refuses to back down to Alex’s intimidating glare. It’s only been a year, but Alex has proven herself to be one of the most competent — and argumentative — people Lena has ever met. There’s a reason Alex has risen to be the Manhunter’s first mate and J’onn’s second-in-command so quickly. The woman is an excellent strategist, and an efficient soldier.

But Lena has been doing this for far longer.

“Alex.” Lena warns, just a hint of chastisement in her voice, and the redhead exhales and drops her head, wiping at her face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… that’s my baby sister. And she’s out there, being targeted by agents.”

“I know,” Lena keeps her tone as even and patient as she can. “But this is a choice Kara needs to make herself. I know what she knows, Alex. I’ve been there too. You found the truth because you were looking for your father. But Kara… She knew the truth long before you did. She’s always known, she just has to choose to accept it.”

“You mean, that story you told—“

Lena nods. “I believe that, like me, Kara is a Potential. She might even have been the first one, but she was trapped by the machines into the Phantom Zone to decommission her. And unlike me, she didn’t have anyone to guide her or pull her out of the Matrix.”

Rhea’s face comes to mind, and Lena takes a deep breath. God knows what would’ve happened to her if Rhea hadn’t found and extracted her first.

Alex is still frowning. “Then how did she get out?”

Lena looks away, her jaw tight. “I think… I think it was Lex. The moment he was reinserted into the Matrix, he caused an anomaly in the program, opening a rift between it and the Phantom Zone. That provided an extraction point, and she could’ve gone either to the real world or the Matrix. But her mind wasn’t ready yet, so she was brought back to the Matrix instead.”

“So all this time…” There’s a war raging in Alex’s eyes, realization and guilt darkening her gaze, until she steels herself. When she looks back up at Lena, her eyes are clear and resolute.

“How do we get her back?”

It’s Nia who answers her.

“Uh, guys…? You might not have to.” She looks up from where she’s talking to her L-phone. “Kelly just told me Kara’s on her way.”

As if on cue, a knock sounds from the other side of the door, and all four of them turn toward it.

“Are we sure it’s Kara?” Jack mutters lowly, his gun already drawn. “It could be an agent. What does Brainy say?”

“It’s her.” Lena assures him.

She crosses the threshold to open the door, but nothing prepares her for what’s waiting outside.

Kara is leaning heavily against the door frame, her face pale. Blood, a lot of it, is dripping from a wound in her belly that’s glowing an ominous green. Lena inhales sharply, shock and fear paralyzing her for a moment.

“You told me to come find you,” is all Kara is able to say before she sags away from the door and into Lena’s arms. Lena catches her, and she feels the wetness of Kara’s blood seeping into her own clothes. Her heart jumps to her throat, constricting her breath.

Alex is at the door in an instant, and between the two of them, they carry Kara inside.

“Nia, clear the table. I have to check her wound.”

The young woman immediately complies, while Jack looks out the door to make sure Kara wasn’t followed. Lena stares at the crimson staining Kara’s front and hands. Her own hands tremble as she helps lay Kara down.

“Who did this to you?”

Kara groans as Alex positions her legs on the dining room table.”Your brother. Nice guy.”

Rage unlike anything she’s ever felt before flares in Lena’s gut, threatening to set her on fire. She is going to kill Lex.

“Lena, I need an extra set of hands.” Alex’s voice startles her, and she looks up to see Alex preparing an anesthetic for her sister. “Here, put pressure on the wound.”

Lena nods, grateful for a task to keep her mind focused. She accepts the gauze and pressing it to Kara’s stomach. Kara hisses in pain, and Lena winces in sympathy as she turns to Nia. “Tell Kelly to download instruction on surgical wound repair.”

Lena closes her eyes. Within seconds, Kelly has downloaded a medical residency’s worth of knowledge into Lena’s brain. She opens her eyes and looks down to reach for a scalpel, only to find Kara staring at her.

“Did you just—?“

“That looks more like a stab wound than a gunshot.” Alex mutters as she prepares the syringe. “What did he do, Kara? What did he stab you with?”

Kara turns away from Lena to look at her sister. She hisses when Alex injects her with the drug. “Some kind of… green glowy thing. It didn’t look like a knife, but I think the tip broke off inside me.”

Lena’s stomach sinks. “Alex… I think it’s a tracker.”

“Damn it! I really wanna punch your fucking brother, Lena.”

“Get in line.” Lena mutters darkly as she continues to press on Kara’s wound. The weak groan that Kara lets out makes Lena’s rage ignite, and it takes every ounce of her concentration to swallow her anger like bile and focus on staunching the wound.

Alex picks up a scalpel and looks back at her sister. “This is gonna hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” Kara grimaces as she tries to sit up. When Lena tries to help her back down, Kara places a hand over her wrist.

“I trust you, Lena.”

Blue eyes are clear and intent as they lock onto green. “Whatever it is you have to show me, whatever answers there are on the other side, I trust you. I’m ready.”

Everything else is forgotten.

Lex, the wound, the agents, the others around them — everything fades away, receding into the background. Lena keeps pressure on the wound, but she meets Kara’s eyes, searching them to see any trace of doubt or hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

Kara nods, her eyes bright. “I think this is the most sure I’ve been in a long time.”

Lena exhales, she can feel her hands trembling on Kara’s skin. “What made you change your mind?”

A lopsided grin twists Kara’s lips. “Your brother.”

“Lex?”

“Yeah.” Kara winces for a second, but her smile returns. “He tried to tell me all of these things about you. How you were a fugitive and a terrorist, how you were guilty of a laundry list of crimes. How you were using the hospital to traffic children, and how you were responsible for Alex’s disappearance.”

Lena huffs out a small incredulous laugh. “And that convinced you?”

“Yeah.” Kara laughs wetly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It convinced me that you were right. I do know you. And your brother’s a bald, arrogant, lying windbag.”

Lena smiles shakily. “He is.”

“Yeah, when I told him that to his face, he stabbed me. Can you believe it?” Kara gestures weakly to the wound on her stomach with the same lopsided grin. Despite the gravity and urgency of their situation, Lena feels a flood of affection and laughs.

Kara’s fingers close over Lena’s hands on her wound. “I’m ready, Lena.”

“Wait, now?”

Nia’s voice interrupts, jarring them both. Lena’s eyes snap to her, and Kara’s head rolls weakly to look at the young woman “You wanna do an extraction now? While we’ve got agents tracking us, and she’s freaking bleeding out all over the dining room floor??”

“Yes.”

Lena doesn’t know which one of them says it — Kara, or her, or both of them. Her eyes never leave Kara’s, even as she directs the others. “Jack, get me a kit, then secure the perimeter. Nia, connect me to Brainy, then call Kelly and tell them the Manhunter needs to be ready now.”

“Lena, she still has the tracker inside her! I can’t sew her up to stop the bleeding while it’s still in there!”

“You don’t have to.” Lena slants a glance at Alex. “We just have to get the tracker out and control the bleeding long enough for the extraction. Can you keep her stable until then?”

“I — Yeah.” Alex looks at her sister’s resolute face. “Yes, I can.”

“Nia, take over.” Lena motions for the younger woman to switch places with her putting pressure on the wound. The younger woman complies. Jack returns, placing a silver metal briefcase on the table next to Kara.

Kara winces, and Alex laughs shakily. “Trust you to do this in the most dramatic way possible.”

Kara laughs, but it turns into a cry of pain as pressure is placed off and on the wound. Lena brushes her hair away from her face, and Kara can feel her place something on her temples.

“Shh, Kara… I promise this will be over soon.” Lena continues putting her hands all over her. Electrodes, Kara realizes, as Lena sticks them in various spots all over her body.

“Brainy, I need a location now.” Lena snaps, and at first, Kara thinks she’s mad at her, but then she realizes that Lena is talking into that headset again. She wants to tell Lena something, but she can’t remember, and she feels foggy and clammy. Her eyelids fall shut.

“She’s tachycardic. She’s going into hypovolemic shock. We need to wake her up now!”

One second Kara is slipping into unconsciousness, and the next a violent shock courses through her whole body like a million volts of electricity. Pain grips her, and she finds herself paralyzed, her mouth falling open in an endless scream.

She screws her eyes shut in agony.

When she can finally open her eyes again, all Kara can see is red. Aqueous and thick, this red surrounds her on all sides. She’s submerged in it, is her first thought.

Her second thought gets overshadowed, swallowed up by her body’s realization that something is blocking her windpipe. She claws at it desperately, panicking.

In her desperation, she manages to wrap her hands around something metallic and cylindrical. She tugs, and the obstruction at her trachea dislodges an inch. Quickly, she pulls and pulls until she all but vomits up a black metallic tube that had been logged into her throat.

Kara tries to inhale a breath, but instead of air, she ingests more of the aqueous red. She lifts herself up, reaching for any kind of surface. When she finds it, she coughs, desperately trying to take in any oxygen. Her hands feel a solid surface and she latches on, trying to regain her breath and a sense of footing.

When she finally recovers enough to try and take stock of her surroundings, Kara looks up and realizes that she is as far from Lena’s dining room as she can get.

Wherever she is, it’s dark. The… vat? pod? she’s in emits a dim red light. Slowly, Kara’s eyes adjust and she perceives other similar red lights from pods around her. As her vision focuses, she realizes with slowly dawning horror that each pod contains a person.

A sick, oily feeling grows in her gut as she lifts her head, only to find more pods above her, each containing a human-looking inhabitant. Peeking over the pod she’s in, she sees more below her. As her eyes begin to adjust to the darkness, she can see that she’s surrounded by a vast array of dim red lights — each a pod containing humans. Hundreds. Thousands, as far as her eyes can see.

As she sloshes inside the thick red liquid around her, Kara takes stock of her body. There are other tubes attached to her, she realizes. To her horror, she finds tubes on her arms, legs and spine. Even at the back of her head.

Her skin prickles in horror and disgust. What the hell is this? What have they done to her?

Even as she touches the tube at the back of her head, a lock on it unlatches, and with a whirring mechanical sound, it ejects itself out of her head.

Pain.

Kara thought she’d felt pain before, but it was nothing like this. It feels magnified a hundred thousand times. Every nerve ending seems to scream in excruciating agony.

As the other tubes unlatch and eject themselves from her spine and limbs, the pain becomes too much. Kara blacks out.

She gains one small moment of consciousness, where she can open her eyes and lift her head weakly. She can feel hands supporting her, lifting her. A scratchy blanket that abrades her sensitive skin is wrapped around her shoulders.

Lights swim in her vision like starbursts, and she can vaguely make out shapes. She tries to focus, gains one moment to see as clearly as she can, and is rewarded by a welcome sight.

What she doesn’t know is that this is the first sight of another living human that her eyes — her true eyes — have ever beheld.

Lena smiles at her softly. “Welcome to the real world, Kara.”

“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.

[spookierdeer]

here’s the mane 6 all together. i went through a couple edits of them until i was happy with them and i think i’m finally set on them now!

fun facts below the cut

when they move in together, fluttershy stocks up on lint rollers. not for fur or dust that you’d expect to see due to her veterinary practice, but because pinkie tends to leave a trail of glitter and confetti. this is especially noticable when she’s bouncing around.

pinkie is an earth pony born with latent chaos magic. this is really rare and exhibited itself in strange ways when she was a foal. as a grown mare, she can control it better, even if it still catches people off guard on occasion.

fluttershy is a flutter pony purely because i heard jenny nicholson talk about it once and i got it stuck in my head. she’s very tall however, super willowy compared to earth ponies (as are most flutter ponies).

fluttershy is taller than both rarity and starlight glimmer, but it’s hard to tell as she keeps her head down and this makes her appear slightly smaller.

fluttershy runs the ponyville vet clinic and is an animal whisperer. she also patches up her more rambunctious friends from time to time.

fluttershy is the begrudging midwife to her friends because some of them are ridiculous and don’t go to the doctor when they should. she is very tired and deserves every cup of coffee she makes them buy her after the fact.

the flutter pony gene is more dominant than most other species genes, so if any non flutter pony and a flutter pony have a foal, it usually ends up being a flutter pony. the only exception are kirin.

rainbow dash is a trans mare

rainbow is the second shortest of the mane 6, barely taller than pinkie. don’t mention it or she’ll destroy your knee caps.

rainbow can also pack away calories like nopony else. do not challenge her to an eating contest or you’ll end up sick and regretting it.

apple jack is average earth pony height which means she’s dwarfed by her flutter and unicorn friends. twilight is on the smaller side of unicorns (as sunset shimmer).

aj is a disaster lesbian. she’s tripped into mud quite a few times around pretty mares. no, she does not want to talk about it.

aj is also well known in ponyville and beyond for being one of the best no holds barred wrestlers around. before she became a mom, she also did some mud wrestling. once she had her foals, she put that behind her if only because it took time away from farm work she didn’t have; she’s still jacked, however.

twilight sparkle is a hornless unicorn, a very rare birth defect. she had to deal with a lot of bullying growing up because of how mules and donkies tend to be the butt of the joke to the average pony. she also had to deal with her tail being stepped on a lot, so as an adult she keeps it tucked to her side.

despite her lack of horn, twilight still has magic abilities. they can be very wild and hard to control due to not having a horn conduit. she spends most of her young life learning how to handle this and becomes one of the most learned unicorns of her time.

twilight is asexual/demiromantic.

rarity is 1/4th mule and gets her long ears from her dad’s side of the family. this has been a topic of rumor amongst the other fashion moguls and like of manehatten. some have even gone so far as to say her horn is fake and other ridiculous claims. rarity would originally just scoff and act as if she couldn’t possibly be related to a mule, but eventually learns her lesson friendship story style after hearing similar rumors about twilight.

the two go on to help stop uhh fuckin discrimination against mules and donkies i guess?? holy shit i didn’t mean to make it a racial allegory but here i am fuck dude, anyway

on a different note, twilight is in a polyam relationship with rainbow dash and tempest shadow. she loves both her girls very much.

rarity is a disaster bi, but in a different way than apple jack. rarity is accidentally an embarrassing asshole to cute ponies and this is what lead to a lot of fights between rarity and other members of the mane 6. the only one who almost never took it to heart was pinkie because she could tell just how embarrassed rarity felt and that she wasn’t doing rude things intentionally. pinkie and eventually fluttershy help rarity stop being such a dunce around cute ponies.

rarity eventually stops dying her grey hair away. she does it out of anxiety, but eventually aj and her friends help her relax a little and understand that going grey isn’t going to mean she isn’t beautiful.

bonus fun facts about other characters i’ve drawn, but haven’t listed here:

tempest shadow is blind in one eye.

lyra and bonbon are happily married.

angel has a love/hate relationship with pinkie. she’s so nice and knows how to brush angel just right, but the mare is taking cuddle time with fluttershy away >:(

starlight glimmer is the only voice i have a headcanon for and it’s heather mcnamara from the off broadway production of heathers. (example)

sunset shimmer is the shortest unicorn i’ve designed so far. she’s shorter than pinkie pie and is an absolute bitch. (i love her.) she is also married to starlight glimmer; they are the bitchy moms at PTA meetings who will destroy you <3

derpy hooves is named ditzy doo in my au. she’s a postpony and scrunchie collector.

dr hooves is named tick turner and he makes and repairs watches and clocks.

bulk biceps is a personal trainer. he breaks his coffee mugs a lot.

ditzy, tick, and bulk biceps are all dating each other in a polyam relationship. for their anniversary, ditzy and tick bought bulk some super nice metal cast mugs; bulk ended up crying a little because he’s a big emotional baby. they love him.

if uve read it this far thank u for listening 2 me. plz talk to me about my ponies i love them <3

[corancoranthemagicalman]

So @nebulous-bondage , you said that you liked Dean being an idiot with internalized issues that he confronts, misunderstandings and miscommunications, and long-suffering Sam. I attempted to do a bit of everything but adjacent to anything I would usually do, took a movie metaphor and ran. I hope you like it!

Great love and hugs to Sophie over at @starrynightdeancas for hosting this AWESOME event for a fabulous celebration (and once again congrats on the milestone!!) I got to meet at least TWO new cool people from it. (My gifter and giftee.) If you want some amazing content, please check out Sophie’s stuff that I totally drew inspiration from. Figured if my giftee was a fan of Sophie’s, I couldn’t go too wrong taking a card out of that deck.

Lots of love!

🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺🌺

The crux of the issue if you asked Dean, was this:

He was an idiot.

Okay, he was not—he wasn’t stupid stupid. He has got mediocre intelligence, right? He wasn’t like Sammy and his multiple languages thing or Bobby and his random lore thing and—

The point was Dean, while not stupid could be a massive idiot. And that was the conundrum that led him to soaking in the middle of a diner in Nebraska of all places with his mother gasping at him and his brother facepalming at him and Jack glaring at him—

And Cas… well, Cas was just. Looking. But his face was, if Dean had to pinpoint some emotion, reading like it was a heartbreak that he had just experienced.

Maybe Dean should start from the beginning. Just so you understand his perspective, okay? Because he wasn’t—he wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t entirely his fault, except that it might have been. And he might have a lot of talking to do. Which sucked, because Dean kind of hated talking.

Okay, maybe not the beginning. The beginning was fire and brimstone and sulfur. The beginning was something Dean was told, but didn’t remember. Or the beginning he did remember, which was lightning and fear and salvation—well.

Dean was far from the beginning. The real beginning. It had been longer than a decade. An entire lifetime—more than that—separating him from what he was. What they were now to what they were then.

But there is a beginning to every stage in Dean’s life, he’s found. And that’s what he means. This thing Dean had for Cas? It began long before Dean was aware of it. This particular circumstance that led to a soaked shirt in a corny booth? Well, Dean with the benefit of retrospection could pinpoint it exactly.

In the Bunker’s library was where this had all started.

Cas had just walked in, deeply conversing with Jack. All of the conversations that Cas had he treated with that same seriousness. Even back when he had just been newly revived. Newly in Dean’s passenger seat, donning a cowboy hat, and calling himself Huckleberry.

(His Huckleberry. Dean’s Huckleberry. Even if he didn’t mean it like that. Could never mean it like that. Because angel’s didn’t feel like that.)

Jack had spotted Dean first, or at least turned to face Dean first. Dean had wondered if Cas had that same peripheral awareness as him. If his eyes always looked for him when he entered a room. If he could feel the charge he exuded with every step.

(Probably not. It was probably an angel thing that made Dean aware of Cas. Something about electricity and grace. Even though Cas’ grace was fading by the day, he was an angel. Would always be an angel if Dean could do anything about it.)

The point was, Jack had turned from Cas. Had asked Dean something about courting rituals in film. Dean had scoffed, reminding Jack that he didn’t watch chick-flicks. Because he didn’t. And had given him some sort of half answer.

(Ten Things I Hate About You didn’t count. And neither did Dirty Dancing. Ledger was not starring in a chick-flick, and Swayze always got a pass.)

Frowning, Jack had made some comment to Cas. It was probably regarding their previous conversation, and that’s why Dean hadn’t retained it. Didn’t really get it. He was, as stated previously, an idiot. And maybe if he had paid more attention, he would have stopped this before it had started.

But he didn’t. Instead, he had turned to Cas. Because he had been thinking about Dirty Dancing. And how Cas hadn’t seen that yet. And Dean had asked Cas if he wanted to do a movie night. Just—just the two of them.

(He said it was because Jack was four, and maybe Cas should vet the movie first. And Sam hated Dirty Dancing. And Mom wasn’t even home. Which was all true. But it wasn’t often that Dean had the excuse to be alone with his best friend.

At the beginning of their friendship, Dean hadn’t had to share Cas with anybody. That was his best friend. His buddy to laugh harder with than he had in his entire life. His buddy to watch movies with and make jokes with. Now even Mary liked circling around Cas—not that Dean would blame them. But maybe—maybe he would like to be a bit selfish. Just this once.)

Jack’s face had lit up like a Christmas tree, and Cas’ eyes had looked as gentle as soft-serve. “I would like that,” he had answered, and that had been that. They had watched the movie, just the two of them. And if Cas sat closer into Dean’s personal space—well. Cas never knew what that was, did he? No need to correct him now.

And it was small things like that. Adjacent to what they had been doing before, but somehow different. Maybe Dean was laughing more. Maybe Cas was smiling more. Whatever the hell it was, it was nice.

(Nice in the way that butterflies in the stomach felt. Light and dizzying and wonderful and terrifying. Not that it was butterflies. Not that this was even remotely anything like that.

Because, if Dean were to be honest about it, butterflies didn’t come close. The butterflies in Dean’s stomach had once had jetpacks. But now? Now they were settled. They just lived there and Dean was used to it and it was—

It was more than butterflies. In theory.)

And it was Sam shaking his head at them. Them laughing. Jack sitting across from them with a board game on a team with Mary, facing head to head. And it was… nice.

(Nice should have been Dean’s warning.)

Jack’s movie night picks were always varying, but he had recently shoveled 90s romantic films into the fray. Sam, as predicted, had ducked out to FaceTime with Eileen when Dirty Dancing had made it to the top of the list, but otherwise stuck it out. Dean couldn’t even begin to list all of the names that had bled together and the faces with their generic, lovestruck expressions.

There was Jack’s wide smile, though. Sam snorting a laugh and shoving popcorn into his mouth. Mary, intrigued and curious, asking as many questions as Cas might have once upon a time. And Cas was there, right next to Dean’s arm, and warm beside him. Lovely and warm and giving that same smile Dean thought was beginning to make a regular appearance.

Sitting with his entire family—all of them safe for once?—of course it had to go wrong.

(Of course Dean had to be the one to ruin it.)

It was an entire nest of vampires out in Nebraska of all places. Mary had been in the area and willing to meet up with them. Jack had been desperate to learn more about hunting, a fact that reminded Dean of a far off memory of Cas newly returned from Purgatory. A gummy smile and determination braced into an angel who still had his wings. Dean would be damned if Jack wasn’t a spitting image of that.

(But, maybe… Maybe Jack could go without all the terrible things that happened during that time. Cas, back from Purgatory and not in control of all of his faculties. Cas, longing for penance and willing to pass vindication on Dean’s guilty conscience. Even if Dean wasn’t a great role model. Even if the first few weeks with Jack had been—

Sam called it living with John Winchester again. Dean hadn’t known what to call it. Didn’t know if he could call it anything. But that—

Well, that was for another time. Dean would always be living with that guilt, but for the moment, the guilt bloomed in a Nebraska diner sitting across from Cas.)

Laughing, smiling—things that seemed to subtly be a new normal for them. It made Dean lean back in the booth, sling his arm over the back of it and relax into his seat. He turned to Jack, ruffling the kid’s hair after Jack shot a syrupy smile to Cas across the table. Cas offered a shy smile, ducking his head.

Beside Cas, Sam rolled his eyes and resumed his conversation with Mary. Mary had squeezed into the side with Dean and Jack. Five people didn’t work for booths, and Dean couldn’t help but think that in another life he would have prevented this exact thing from happening. But he didn’t mind being half on a seat, Mary squeezing between Jack and the window, and Sam sitting across from her laughing. Cas’ still shy smile on him.

“I did have a question,” Mary raised a brow. “I mean, when did movies start getting so… formulaic?”

Sam huffed a laugh, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “Well, they’ve kind of always been that way, haven’t they? Old Japanese myth becomes Hollywood cowboys becomes modern Sci-Fi.”

“Hey,” Dean spoke pointedly. “Treading dangerous waters there, Sammy. You can’t go wrong with cowboys or aliens.”

“Oh! Or Cowboys and Aliens,” Jack beamed, pointing with his fork before returning most of his attention to the remaining stack of pancakes.

Dean acquesied the point with a crooked grin. “That too.” He took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the slow burn of hot caffeine into his system. “What sort of formula are we talkin’ about though? Are we talkin’ young girls getting hypnotized by weirdly boyish supernatural creatures?”

“Even that has some basis going back to at least 1897,” Cas pointed out, “at least from what most people with any familiarity of fiction are concerned. Stoker’s Dracula was also a youthful seeming figure who enchanted a young woman.” His brow furrowed in that thoughtful way of his before he continued. “Though, I suppose that since some scholars believe it is possibly an allegory for sexuallly transmitted diseases, that does reaffirm the belief that it is meant to be an alluring but dangerous figure threatening the virtue of a young woman.”

Mary chuckled, shaking her head with wide eyes. She still wasn’t used to Cas being… Cas.

(There were times where Mary forgot Cas was an angel. Not in the sense that she was not always aware of the supernatural aura around Cas, but in the sense that sometimes Cas was so human. He was thoughtful and kind. His words were provoking and caring. His emotions were as volatile and as gentle as any man Dean had ever known.

Perhaps better than most men Dean had known. More human than some men that Dean had known.)

“I meant the whole boy meets girl thing.” She gestured with her free hand. “I mean the movie dates and the plastic solo cups. It’s all so… basic.”

“Not exactly the boomboxes and the mermaids, is it?” Sam smiled gently, nodding. “I guess people just like it… simple. Y’know? That love can just be something as simple as movie dates and sharing milkshakes.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck. Sam nailed it on the head. The best part of movies was that they were simple, and you always knew how they were gonna end.

(The hero always beat the bad guy, always saved the girl, always lived happily ever after. Didn’t mean Dean didn’t like movies where the cowboy rode off—grievously injured—into the sunset where you knew he would fall off of his horse after the fade to black. It was just that sometimes—

Dean knew that was going to be his ending. The cowboy holding his bleeding side. No one beside him but his trusty horse. Orange sunset on his face. That’s where his life was heading.

So sometimes it was just… nice. To pretend those stories didn’t exist. And Dean wasn’t living in one.)

“I guess,” Mary sighed, “I just miss the romance of it.” She looked forlornly at her drink. Dean wondered if she was thinking of John. Thinking of a jukebox and Zeppelin songs that he knew all the words to.

“I suppose everyone has their own unique definition of romance,” Cas offered diplomatically. “Humans tend to think romantic actions are circumstantial rather than objective.” He turned a small smile to Dean. “Take for example movie dates.”

Scoffing, Dean rolled his eyes. “Just ‘cause I like movies doesn't mean I think that’s romantic.” He could feel his cheeks burn, causing him to scratch at his scruff with an index finger. He was going to have to shave, wasn’t he? His hair was getting long—

“What.” Jack’s voice pulled Dean from his pondering. It sounded a touch colder than Dean was used to coming from the kid. Usually, Jack was sunshine and rainbows. Storm clouds and thunder. A spitting image of his dad—the one he called dad—but softer. Softer because Cas had done his damnedest to not let Jack be hardened into a soldier.

(Not like Dean had been. Not like Sam had been.)

“What what?” Dean furrowed his brow. Sighing, he rested his forearms on the table. “Look, movie nights? They’re nice for getting a girl alone in the dark and getting handsy on the couch or whatever,” he shook his head. “But romantic? Hardly.”

(He wanted to say that he didn’t believe in romance. Maybe because he didn’t want to believe that romance was out there, but not for him. It was hard to say that though, when thinking of his mother and her Zeppelin songs.

When thinking of a tape full of Zeppelin songs.

So he didn’t say any of that.)

“So,” Cas began slowly, “you don’t like movie dates.” He nodded, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “I see. What sort of dates would you prefer?”

Dean quirked a brow at Cas, letting out a chuckle. “Cas, I don’t do dates.” He shot a wry grin toward his brother. “Sammy prefers the wining and dining, but I’m more straight forward. If I want to hook up with someone, I just ask.” Looking at his hands, Dean confessed softer than he had meant to. “I’m too old for messin’ around.”

(And it was true. He was too old for it. He was still a handsome son of a gun. Still drew some attention, but—

But any time he had tried, he found himself just wanting to be home. Just wanting to be on that couch with Cas beside him and Jack sitting at their feet watching a movie. Sam and Mary coming and going as they pleased but there. Home.)

“You don’t… date?” Mary’s voice sounded careful and her gaze felt scrutinizing. “I—I was under the impression—”

“Mom,” Dean stopped her, feeling an embarrassed flush overcome his features. “C’mon. Don’t pretend like people didn’t do hookups back in your day too.” He tried to come off as teasing. Tried to lighten whatever was strengthening Jack’s glare, whatever was making Cas’ eyes grow a far distance away, whatever was raising Sam’s hand to his forehead.

Jack fixed his jaw and Dean had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. He could recognize that look from the mirror. And that was a terrifying thought, that Jack looked anything like him.

(Made him think about the weeks where Jack was living with John Winchester. Made Dean wake up in a cold sweat that maybe Jack had been learning from them during that time too. That despite Cas’ hard work, Dean would’ve turned Jack into John anyway.)

“Movie dates aren’t romantic,” Jack listed, “and you only want to hook up?”

(And none of that was really true, was it? Dean liked watching movies. And he liked doing it with Cas. He had admitted as much to himself even if the circumstances of those daydreams weren’t romantic.

But the idea of it being romantic wasn’t lost on Dean. That he could want it to be romantic. If asked, though, he’d say maybe movie watching was more domestic. Somehow that meant more to Dean. His little house and his little family watching a film, Cas pressing close and smiling.

But he wouldn’t say that. Couldn’t say that.)

“Love isn’t like the movies, Jack,” Dean huffed. “And I sure as hell don’t want it.”

This was where we were now. Dean’s shirt soaked. Mary gasping. Sam’s face in his hands. Cas’ face being etched with something sharp.

“Jack!” Mary reprimanded, hand resting on his shoulder.

Jack held his chin up in the air, looking down at Dean despite not having the height on him. “Isn’t it customary that when the guy says something stupid, the girl throws her drink at him?” His eyes squinted, head tilting, and it might have made Dean’s heart seize in his chest despite the frightening cold from the water clinging to his chest. “Cas is too kind to do it, so I did it for him.”

Cas was too kind for a lot of things, but—

“Thank you, Jack, but there is no need.” Cas spoke softly, but his face did not reflect that gentleness he always aimed at his son. Instead his eyes were still distant. Still lacking that shade of blue. “I believe this is, ah.” He shook his head and Dean could recognize that self-deprecating crook of his mouth from any distance. “This is the part of the film where the girl grossly misunderstands what is happening.”

“Can someone explain to me what is going on?” Dean snapped, jerking into action to dot at his shirt with napkins. “I’m freezing in Nebraska and we’re still talking about chick-flicks! Life isn’t a movie!”

The crook of Cas’ mouth shrunk, turning a touch sad. “I know,” he spoke calmly and pushed himself out of the booth. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air.”

No one kindly mentioned that Cas had never needed air before.

Dean was left staring at Cas' retreating form, that trenchcoat quickly crossing the horizon. It reminded Dean of the cowboy movies he had been thinking of. The injured cowboy carrying himself out of town, retreating from burdening his loss of life on anyone else. Bleeding and lonely.

Silence fell over the table, the napkins clutched in Dean’s grip quickly soaking some of the water from his shirt but doing little else to dry him. Sam’s elbow thunked against the table and shook Dean out of his reverie.

“So…” Mary began slowly. “You and Cas… aren’t dating?” She cautiously spoke, pushing her mug closer to the window as if that might spare it of whatever her words would stir within Dean.

(There was, admittedly, only one thought to cross Dean’s mind.

No, that wasn’t true.

There were precisely twenty-five different thoughts that had crossed Dean’s mind all at once. The largest of these—the loudest of these—was in a voice Dean ignored.)

“Mom, what the hell?” Dean furrowed his brow. “Cas is my best friend!”

Mary looked contrite, thinning her lips into a line. “I know that,” she reassured gently, “I just thought that…”

“Thought what? We were playing tonsil hockey or something?”

“Gross, Dean,” Sam sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He lifted his gaze to meet Mary’s across from him. “No, they’re just. Always like that.”

Dean swiveled to face Sam. Sammy was always insightful and usually right. But sometimes he spouted things that just… they didn’t—

(It didn’t make sense. To think of Cas and Dean as Cas and Dean. Not when Cas could never feel that way. Not when Dean was adamantly not thinking about it.)

“You told us that guys ask girls to movies when they like them!” Jack argued, pointing a finger accusingly at Dean.

“I what?” Dean furrowed his brow. “We do movie nights all the time! Watching a movie with someone isn’t a date!”

Jack turned to his pancakes with that same laser glare. Kryptonian son of a Kryptonian man. Super-human strength in the most unassuming package. Maybe the kid would have laser eyes. “We asked you why guys asked girls out to the movies in movies, and you said it’s just what people do.” He huffed. “Then you asked Cas to watch a movie. Isn’t that just what people do?”

It was then Dean realized he had no idea what conversation Jack was referring to, and he would have asked as much had it not suddenly come to his realization that—

(That—)

“Cas thought I was dating him?” Dean let out in a harsh whisper that felt like a whip to his heart.

Jack stabbed at his pancake, muggish and solemn with his movements. “I was so excited. I thought I had figured it out.” He let out a slow breath. “Cas tried telling me that… that sometimes humans say things and don’t mean it, but I thought…” Jack rested his chin on his balled fist. “And Mary said that her husband gave her a mixtape of Zeppelin too, so I thought—”

“Wait, wait,” Dean waved his hands in front of himself, speaking over Sam’s squeaking. He could feel his brain fritzing. Blowing smoke and threatening to stop in its tracks and never resume to whatever destination it had been plummeting toward. “Stop. Cas thought I was dating him. And he never said anything.”

Sam snorted a laugh, cracking a smile for the first time since this whole conversation had started. “When have you ever known Cas to say something?” He shook his head, hair curtaining his face. “He’s like the definition of happy with what we have.”

“Another movie trope!” Jack pointed with his fork, lifting his head from his plate. He turned with his silverware pointed at Dean this time. “See? You guys are like a movie!”

“It’s exhausting,” Mary let out in a quiet breath.

Dean could see her mulling over her abandoned coffee before he was distracted by Jack brandishing the fork near his face. He pushed the fork away with a single finger, furrowing his brow.

“We’re not a movie,” he admonished. “We’re people. People who’ve got—” Dean felt the words snap in his throat, clogging it with something thick. “He’s Cas. I’m me. Got it?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam furrowed his brow, matching Dean and leaning forward across the table. “You’re you and he’s him. Cut the bullshit, Dean.” Dean could feel Sam’s eyes on him like a searchlight. Felt it beam into every nook and cranny Dean kept hidden. Spotting the rats and the liter festering in corners.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed himself up from the booth. “I’m not having this conversation with you.” He spoke pointedly, looking at his family. His little, broken family.

(He could remember Lilo & Stitch. That had been one that Jack had insisted on watching. Dean couldn’t deny the kid the full cinema experience for a classic.

Sitting on the couch, watching the film, Dean could spy the intensity in Cas’ gaze. The way the green of the film reflected on his blue eyes. Dean caught himself before he leaned into Cas too far, but Cas caught the movement. Caught him staring.

“I just…” Cas had trailed off. “I hadn’t realized how much I could relate to a small, animated alien.” He shrugged. “I suppose now I understand how you could form a parasocial relationship with the talking dog.”

How could Dean put into words how much Cas was Stitch? Something alien and far away. An answer to silent prayers. Something that added to their small and broken family.

But still good.

Yeah, still good.

Instead he had just shrugged, made some remark about Scooby-Doo being everyone’s best friend until Sam had aggressively shushed him into silence.)

The problem was Dean knew he had to talk about it. What was worse was that he knew who he had to talk to. This wasn’t a conversation for his family in the middle of Nebraska. This was a conversation for Cas—wherever he was.

Running his fingers through his hair in aggravation, Dean could feel his boots stomp across the floor. He could hear Sam sigh and place his palm to his forehead. Feel Jack’s Kryptonian stare. Sense his mother’s fight-or-flight instinct kicking in.

(The truth was this:

Dean wanted to run too. Wanted to hide away from this conversation and never resurface. Hide beneath every shout from every hunter he had seen growing up.

But he was getting too old for this shit. And he was tired. And Sammy was always insightful and usually right. And if Dean’s gut was saying what Dean’s heart hoped it was saying? Well.

Well.)

“Cas,” Dean called out, spotting the slowly soaking shoulders of his trenchcoated angel as soon as he turned the corner. “Why the hell are you standing in the rain, man?”

Cas sighed, turning his heavenward face to the concrete. “I wanted to take a walk. It started raining. I didn’t let it deter me.”

“Doesn’t look like you did much walkin’,” Dean gestured to how close the diner was. Its comfortable brickwork was still three feet from Cas’ figure. Stepping closer, Dean inhaled sharply. “Cas, talk to me.”

“What would you like me to say, Dean?” Cas furrowed his brow, turning his entire body to face Dean. Dean didn’t know which was worse. The sharpened profile made of millennial old granite, or the thousand eyed stare that had raised him from perdition.

(It was neither of these.

It was a pair of blue eyes, a shade darker than those of Jimmy Novak’s, staring at him in a barn. Telling him he deserved to be saved. And continuing to tell him he deserved to be saved twelve years later.

That was the face that did Dean in. Always.)

Huffing, Dean could feel an instinctual, defensive fire burn in his chest. “First off, you could start with how the hell I was supposed to guess we started dating.”

Cas’ face hardened and crumbled. It reminded Dean of an old cookie. Stale and full of raisins. It was hard to look at. “We never started dating, Dean.” He spoke sharply. “I… I had made an assumption, and I know what people say about assuming.”

“Let me get this straight,” Dean shook his head. “My best friend of twelve years thinks I asked him out on a movie date in front of his kid, yeah?” He did not wait for Cas’ answer before continuing. “Then he just, what? Thinks that nothing would change? We’d just keep watching movies together forever?”

“I would ask for nothing else,” Cas confessed and his whisper was almost lost to the sound of the rain picking up, thundering against the roof of the diner beside them. “Nothing had to change. Nothing has to change.”

Dean growled. “Then why storm out, huh?” He bit. “If nothing has to change, why are you out here taking a smoke break in the rain?”

Cas inhaled sharply, turning away from Dean. “I…” he began, “I thought for once we were on the same page.” He let out a breath. “I just needed time to… think. Reconceptualize some things.”

“Reconceptualize things.” Dean echoed, ignoring the increase of the rain falling on his skin. “Cas, I don’t even know what to say.” He threw his arms with a shrug. “What am I supposed to say?”

Hadn’t he known what conversation he was supposed to have? Why was it so hard to speak to Cas about this?

Wasn’t it supposed to be easy? If Dean wanted this, and Cas wanted this, then wasn’t it that simple? Just like a movie?

(The problem, Dean figured, was this:

He actually didn’t know what Cas wanted at all.

All that time thinking Cas couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now here they were, and Cas thought they were dating, but he hadn’t done any of the things Dean would have done if they were dating. What would dating Cas even be like? What they had already been doing for weeks? Years?)

“Cas,” Dean inhaled a fortifying breath. “Man, what do you want?”

Cas brow furrowed and his head tilted, scrutinizing Dean. Being solely under that powerful gaze made Dean shiver. The angel’s eyes widened and he took a measured step forward. “You should get out of the rain—”

“No!” Dean gripped tightly at Cas’ shoulders. “No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what you want Cas!” He shouted and he was certain his voice would have bounced throughout the nearly empty parking lot of the diner had it not been for the deafening rain.

“What do I want?” Cas shouted in equal force. He shrugged Dean’s hands off of his shoulders, pressing forward into Dean’s space.

(Suddenly, Dean was reminded of an alley. Of Michael and Lucifer. Of Cas pressing him against the cold, damp wall. Beating his convictions into him.

It felt holy, those dangerous touches. Punishment at the hands of an angry god reminding Dean what he was fighting for. Even if he hadn’t lost sight of it yet, and even if Dean didn’t know it yet—

Cas would always hold him to that.)

“What I want,” Cas growled, eyes squinting against Dean’s features sharply, “is the one thing that I know I can’t have—”

“And how do you know?” Snapping, Dean took the last step between them. Their faces were close as they had been in the past, but…

But it had been so long since Dean had been this close to him. And it was somehow not close enough.

Cas’ eyes widened, breath that he didn’t need hitching. Dean watched in fascination as the blue of his eyes was slowly overtaken by the dark of his pupils. His crows feet somehow diminished with his wide eyes.

Youthful.

He looked like an echo of a Cas Dean once knew. But this was the Cas Dean always knew. Just older. Wiser. Kinder.

(And Dean loved him more with every day.)

“Cas, I'm tired.” Dean confessed. “I'm tired of lying to myself. I’m tired of pretending that I don't—I can’t—” he stumbled over his words, searching for some hidden strength that might have resided on Cas’ skin. “I keep telling myself you couldn’t ever feel like… like that. And it’s easier that way. Maybe if you can’t ever feel like that, then it’ll never happen so why should I hope for anything else, right?”

Cas made to interrupt him, but Dean wasn’t finished. Not by a mile. And Dean had been driving all of his life. Knew the comfort of driving. There was something like that here, with Cas.

(There always had been.

On a park bench in a small town Dean couldn’t even remember the name of. Cas saying he wasn’t a hammer. Dean listening. The first smile or the first joke that wasn’t a barb. Or both.)

“But that's bullshit, isn't it? ‘Cause you feel like nobody I’ve ever met, Cas.” Dean laughed breathlessly and it felt like oxygen deprivation. The kind that made you dizzy and squeezed your chest. “You feel so much all the damn time. That's the whole reason Naomi hated your guts. You’ve got this—this heart, man, and I gotta tell you, I’m jealous.

I’m jealous of every person who gets that from you. That gets a piece of you. ‘Cause I want all of it. Isn’t that nuts, man? That I’m too chicken shit to get over myself but I want you completely like that?” Dean gulped in a fresh lungful of air but he still felt like he was choking. Cas’ eyes taking on the appearance of mist, glistening and open, growing the thing beating its way out of Dean’s ribcage.

Dean swallowed, closing his eyes and trying to finish what he had to say. What he knew he had to say. Dean wasn’t good at talking. He didn’t like talking.

(But he loved Cas.

That probably balanced it out.)

“I’m scared, Cas,” came the confessional, “I’m terrified that I’m gonna—about everything.” Opening his eyes, Dean looked to Cas again. Found the remainder of the strength he needed looking back at him so intensely. “But there’s, uh, there’s this guy who sort of makes me feel better. About all of that. And I think I could move fucking mountains for him if he asked me to.”

“Dean,” and Cas spoke it like absolution. Like forgiveness for all the things that Dean had done. All he would ever do.

(And maybe he did. Maybe Cas did forgive Dean of it. There was so much to forgive. Little to forget. But maybe—

Maybe Cas saw Dean. All of Dean. The John Winchester that he was and the John Winchester he could be. The Mark of Cain on his arm and the Demon in his eyes.

But maybe he saw Lilo, too. On her knees and praying. Hoping. Someone who was trying.

And god.

Did he want to try.)

Licking his lips, Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’ mouth for a moment. “Y’know Cas,” Dean whispered. He couldn’t risk speaking louder. Not if it was going to break the spell. Not if it was going to fade to black before he could get this. “I’ve always wanted a movie kiss.”

Cas’ smile spread gently across his face like warm butter over morning toast. “I thought you said life wasn’t a movie.”

Dean chuckled, ducking his head in hopes that Cas wouldn’t catch the burning of his cheeks. He probably did, though. Cas was just observant like that. Knew Dean like that. Bringing his face back up to meet Cas’ gaze, Dean couldn’t help but smile wider.

“It isn’t usually,” he shrugged with a single shoulder. “But, uh, way I see it?” Dean leaned forward, brushing the tip of his nose along the bridge of Cas’. “I think we just might be.”

(And god that was corny. But Cas made Dean corny.

No.

Dean was corny. Cas just made Dean comfortable enough to be whatever he wanted to be. And what Dean was right now was kissing the love of his life in the rain, receiving a foot-popping silver screen worthy first kiss.

Fade to black. Roll credits. Cue the 90s pop cover of the title song.)

[shegatsby]

Sweet Serial Killer

Hi! I’d love to request a Hannibal/Ginger OC smutty story I’ve had in my head for a long time. Maybe you like the idea, too. OC is a really famous psychologist from Britain and gets hired by Jack to help Hannibal. He finds her really interesting but she kinda noticed that something odd with him and “investigates” on her own while she gets noticed by another killer who targets her. Hannibal saves her, escapes to Florence, tried to persuade her to stay & showing her the beauty of killing. :) ♥️  @negans-attagirl​

Warnings: Smut! +18, Kidnapping, mention of killing.

This is a Hannibal one shot request! Sorry for any typos. Love u all! Sorry it’s a little long.

‘’She’ll be here  today. She promied.’’ Jack Crawford said with a hint of self-doubt, Hannibal and Will were in Jack’s office waiting Jack’s friend from Britain. Y/N Y/L/N was a famous psychologist all around the world and for years she workd for he authorities to help them create profiles of serial killers. Jack workd with her 5 years ago so that’s how they became friends but he wasn’t sure if she would actually show up, on the phone she sounded tired and reluctant. Before she came to the office Hannibal got a sense of sweet smell of vanilla and the door of Jack’s office opened by a young woman who had long ginger hair, Hannibal observed the woman who just walked in. She had professional clothes, a black pencil skirt, dark purple blose and high heels which gave her hips a feminen shape. Her face was troubling him because she wasn’t giving any emotion to them. ‘’Long time no see.’’ Jack greeted her with a warm hug and Hannibal noticed the warm smile on her lips. ‘’Let me introduce you to your new team. This is Will Graham,’’ Will gave her a short hand shake, ‘’And this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Our psychiatrist.’’ Hannibal stood up to greet her respectfully. ‘’Your reputation preceds you Doctor Lecter. Pleasure to meet you.’’ Young woman gave her a formal smile, ‘’I can say the same Doctor Y/L/N, I’ve read all of your articles.’’ He said confidently, ‘’I hope I didn’t bore you?’’ she joked. ‘’Nothing you write can bore me. Please, sit by me.’’ He offered the white couch next to his.

Jack gave her a file of what they knew about this killer, she gazed through pages and rolled her eyes, ‘’Male in late 30s, killing women, tell me something new Jack. This is boring.’’

Hannibal was shocked by her bold attitude, he heard stories of her being a wild woman and he could see the posibility of those stories being true.

‘’It gets interesting Y/N, this man only kills rich women and after he is done he paints on their bodies.’’ He put several pictures on the table. Women had famous paintings on their bodies,

‘’ Allegory of Spring by Sandro Botticelli, Summer by Jacopo Tintoretto, Venus and The Lute Player by Titan…’’

‘’What do you see?’’ Will asked her, ‘’This man is obsessed with renaissance paintings and he is quite good at painting. He needs time and silence to paint these, somewhere he can be himself, a place that he can hide the body. I need an office to profile him.’’ She said as she was standing, Hannibal could see that she was admiring the killer’s work, like he did.

Jack was about to speak, however Hannibal was quick, ‘’You can work in my office, we could work together to share ideas and catch this killer.’’ He offered kindly and could not help but sound dominant.

Y/N shrugged her shoulder, ‘’Fine. Let’s go.’’

Hannibal took her to his office, cancled all his meetings with his patientens. It was the first time she saw an office this big and aesthetically pleasing, the red walls held paintings, there was a ladder to upstairs which was a big library, it was a cold Baltimore day so Hannibal lit the fireplace, ‘’I’ve always recommend a glass of red wine before paperwork.’’ She her coat on a grey single couch, ‘’Yes please.’’

His desk was unbelievebly tidy, and clean, everything looked shiny, there was another small table close to fireplace, ‘’You can work there.’’ He said while pouring the red wine into thin glassess, she put her stuff on her new table. Instead of sitting she started to walk around, ‘’Can I see the upstairs? I love walking among books.’’ Hannibal extended her the glass, ‘’Of course Y/N, may I call you Y/N?’’ she took the glass, their fingers brushed for a second, ‘’Sure Hannibal.’’ She climbed the wooden stairs and gazed at the shelves. Most of his books were psychology and medicine related, however she saw classics as well. ‘’I take it that you like my office?’’ he was standing and watching her. ‘’Correct. It is like a museum and quiet honestly, I love your aesthetics. So gothic.’’

‘’Thank you.’’

She came down, ‘’Shall we start?’’ she settled on the table, the heat from the fireplace was soothing, there was a space between them so she could only see his back.

She got files from Jack and she was taking notes, trying to come up with ideas. She tied her messy ginger hair into a bun, few strands of hair found their way out, Hannibal came to her table. The red light coming from the fireplace made her look like she was the goddess Hestia, ‘’Join me for dinner.’’ He came to talk about their job but this came out of his mouth. She looked up to meet his brown eyes, he looked cordial,

‘’You don’t have to-‘’

‘’Please, I would love to have you over for dinner.’’

Y/N heard his dinner parties and secretly wanted to be a guest but she never had the opportunity before.

He was a confident man, she could see that and his presence made everyone be aware of what kind of a person he was, strong, mysterious, his gentleman behaviour didn’t go unnoticed.

‘’I would love that.’’ She tried to not show any excitement however, Hannibal read her face before she could turn her head.

After a week of working with the FBI Y/N got a letter to her hotel room;

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile.

It was a poem written by Robert Burns , she brought the letter to FBI but they couldn’t find any prints.

‘’What does he mean by this poem?’’ Jack asked confused, ‘’I might have a theory.’’ All eyes were on Hannibal now. ‘’The poet, very artistically draws a picture of his profound love. He paints this picture with intense emotions. The speaker compares his beloved with “a red rose” and “sweet melody” to intensify his deep feelings for her. I think that our killer has eyes on Y/N.’’

She dropped the glass she was holding, she worked to create profiles of killers for years but this never happened to her before, ‘’What??’’

 Will helped her sit, ‘’We could use this, we could use her as a bait.’’ Jack as always was too interested in his work. Hannibal was standing next to her, he knew she needed comfort so he placed his hand gently on her shoulder.  ‘’What do you think Y/N?’’ He asked because he wanted her consent on this,  ‘’Jack is right. But how?’’

‘’We have to wait for another contact. He’ll try to talk to you. When he does we can work from there.’’ Jack simply said, ‘’But for now you can’t change your location. Don’t worry I’ll send people to look after you in that hotel.’’

Later Hannibal took her outside to get fresh air, it was a snowy day. Hannibal watched her cheeks and tip of her nose become red. ‘’I will come visit you to keep you company, if you want of course.’’

Y/N chuckled at how gentle he was, ‘’Am I amusing you?’’ he asked jokingly, ‘’Little bit, in a good way.’’ She confessed, he gave her a hug. Her head was on his chest, she could hear his heart beating, he caressed her soft ginger hair, he could smell the vanilla scent, it was a soothing smell to him. ‘’Don’t worry,’’ he whispered, ‘’I will protect you.’’ She could smell his parfume, it was intoxicating so she had to pull back to keep the professionalism. As they walked inside back she had this sudden feeling of chill in her body, like she was being watched by someone she looked back to see anything but there was no one.

It was late when she arrived at her hotel room, it was dark inside so she turned on the lights, threw her jacket somewhere and when to the bathroom to run herself a hot bath, she deserved it after all. She opened the bathroom door and she was about to walk in when she felt something covering her nose and mouth, the smell was strong and the last thing she knew was falling into someone’s arms.

Hannibal Lecter was at his home playing his harpsicord when he had a text message, it was from an unknown number. ‘’She is mine, forever. Don’t try to find her body because I will hide her somewhere safe, somewhere you cannot reach Doctor Lecter, or you can join me. The choice is yours.’’

First thing he did was calling Will and explaining what happened, later they find out that Y/N wasn’t at her hotel room.

Y/N felt she was cold, she opened her eyes to see the wooden roof, ‘’Where am I?’’ she couldn’t move or speak but she was awake, she was hearing Mozart’s Lacrimosa. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oESM64gU5M&t=131s)

A tear left her eye and she saw a tall man with blue eyes looking at her, ‘’Shh, there is no need to cry Y/N,’’ he wiped the tear away, touched her soft ginger hair, ‘’You will be my masterpiece.’’ He had a clean shaven face, he had dark circles under his still blue eyes. She wanted to speak but was unable to, she was on a cold surface, her hands and feet were tied. ‘’Do you want to see yourself my love?’’

It wasn’t a question, he pressed a button and that surface she was on started to move, she saw a mirror right in front of her, she was naked and there was a painting on her abdomen. ‘’I haven’t finished yet but do you like it?’’ His voice was so calm, like they were good old friends who were just hanging out and it triggered her fight or flight mode, however she couldn’t do either.

She had to admit, he was a good painter. He wasn’t done but she could see that it was the replica of The Rapture of Psyche,

‘’Your pupils just dialeted…’’ he sounded shocked, ‘’You love my painting. I knew you would understand, you and Hannibal are different, I’m sure he has told you what kind of a monster he was,’’ he looked at her and understood that she was clueless. ‘’Oh you don’t know? This is going to be fun.’’ He pulled a brown stool and sat close to her abdomen and kept painting, ‘’Doctor Hannibal Lecter is many things, a well respected psychiatrist, a good friend and a marvelous mentor. I was his patient once, he let me came out of my shell, helped me with my first kill and look at me, I’m living my dream.’’  Throughout the days she noticed that Hannibal was a unique man, she went to his place for cooking once and the way he looked at her told her everything. He was hiding something, he wanted to share it with her at that moment but he couldn’t, something stopped him. ‘’I’m his creation, and you are mine, he has impact on everyone he encounters with, in a way he led you to me.’’ She could feel the soft brush on her skin, the wetness of the paints. She was crying without making any sound, ‘’Do you know how I kill women? Of course you do, after I’m done painting I inject my special cocktail in their veins and they die, just like sleeping. There is no pain.’’ Her life flashed before her eyes, every choice, every path she took ended her here, there was no hope, she was going to die in here and her friends will be the ones who will find her, she felt her cheeks get wet. He stoode up, looked at her entire body, ‘’Beautiful..’’ he whispered, and went to get his injection, ‘’Just so you know, you are the most smartest and the most beautiful woman I have ever met Y/N, I wish we had more time-‘’ ‘’You don’t have to tell her that, she knows her worth.’’

A sound came from the back, ‘’Hannibal?’’ she thought with relief but she remembered what this killer said and her body shivered.  ‘’I knew you would come. Shall we finish her together?’’ The blue eyed man said smiling, she could hear Hannibal walk towards them, she saw two men coming face to face, ‘’Not this time.’’ and Hannibal, with a quick hand movement took the injection from him and slit his throat with a small knife he had under his sleeve. She watch the gush of blood spill on her naked body, and watched the man fall to the ground. She was shocked but what surprised her the most was how calm Hannibal was, what that man said was true, it wasn’t his first kill. Hannibal turned to her, cut the ropes on her hands and feet, looked at the painting for a second and his brown eyes met her Y/E/C eyes, ‘’Like I said before, I will always protect you.’’ it was a promise. He took of his jacket and laid it on her naked body, later he took her body into his arms and left the abandoned farm they were in. FBI was outside and he took her to the ambulance, she had no bruises and the thing he injected her to make her not move was losing it’s effect quickly. As people were checking her she held Hannibal’s tie, ‘’D- don’t go.’’ He stayed in that ambulance  and held her hand while paramedics did their job, he had this instinct to be around her all the time, protect her and keep her safe. It wasn’t a paternal feeling, it was something else. Later that night Jack told Hannibal to take Y/N with him, ‘’She should be in a home instead of a damn hotel room.’’ And Hannibal didn’t complain, he was happy to have her. The car ride was silent, she was still thinking about what happened, she almost died and the things that man said… she let him help her out of the car and they walked inside. She watched her put his keys in a bowl and walking into his livingroom where the fireplace was lit.

‘’Did you listen to what he said?’’ She asked, he was removing his tie, ‘’Yes.’’ He simply answered. ‘’So everything he said was true?’’ She was still naked under his big coat and she felt vulnerable, she wouldn’t be able to run if he tried to attack her, but somehow she also felt safe, she was almost certain that he wouldn’t try to do anything.. almost.‘’Yes, Y/N. Everything he said is true,’’ he took a step towards her and watched her take a step back, ‘’But this will change nothing, I will never hurt you and I will certainly never forgive anyone who lays a finger on you. Even before he said those things about me,’’ he took another step, ‘’deep down you knew it.’’ And another step, ‘’You knew that I was a dangerous man and yet,’’ now her back was pressed against a wall, ‘’you still came to my house, came into my life. There is no going back now little girl,’’ he placed his hand on her cold cheek, ‘’you cannot deny what we have.’’ She found herself pressing her cheek against his big palm, she liked the heat. He came close and gave her a soft kiss, she didn’t move her lips first because still didn’t know what to do, what to say, but she gave in. She kissed him back, his hand went to her hair, he wanted to be rough, she could feel it but he was holding back, he removed the jacket she had and pulled back. ‘’I will run you a bath, come with me.’’

She didn’t care that she was naked, she held his hand and together they walked the stairs.As he was filling the tub she looked around, it was a big place, everything looked expensive. There was a tall mirror, the painting was still on her body, she looked tired, her hair looked wild, Hannibal came and held her close to him. His hands wraped around her, he placed a kiss on her shoulder, ‘’Let’s get you cleaned up.’’ For minutes there was no sound, he was cleaning her abdomen with a lufa. Her eyes were closed, she was enjoying the moment, ‘’How long have you been killing people?’’ she asked which stopped him and made him look at her. ‘’Do not worry yourself with small details Y/N, let me take care of you, I have plans for us.’’ After the long bath he helped her out, wrapped her body with a black towle, when he was done he held her shoulders, eyes never leaving her Y/E/C. The steam in the room made his face shine, ‘’You take my bed, I will sleep in the guest room.’’ he figured she might want to be alone for the night, he was wrong. She raised on her tiptoes and kissed him, ‘’Don’t leave me.’’ She whispered into his ear and he felt his entire body go numb. She found herself pressed against the edge of the marble sink, legs were open and he was in between them. Their kiss wasn’t like the first one, this was more intense, more desperate. She jumped to his lap and he took them out of the bathroom, now they were in his big bedroom. He laid her on the satin dark blue sheets, her golden hair spread on the pillow, ‘’A sight only to my eyes..’’ he thought.

He removed her black towle and she helped him took off his clothes, even though he was older than her he looked good. He wasn’t beefy but he was fit, he looked at her and saw the raw feeling of lust, he was not disappointed. ‘’Spread your legs for me love.’’ He frist kissed her breasts, sucked the tits and toyed with them, didn’t forget to leave bruises and he came to her belly, gave her soft kisses and heard her sweet moans, she was like a cat. It made him smile, he came down slowly, it was torture to both of them but he liked it, he could get the scent of her wet cunt and it sent waves of excietment to his body but he wanted to please her first, she had a horrible night and he wanted to take care of her, show her she that she can trust him completely and give in to him, no questions asked. He found her clit and and started to play with it swas sensual and slow, his other hand was squeezing her thigh. He could see that she was enjoying herself so he moved his fingers to labia up and down, left and right, she was so wet he was fighting his inner demons to stay calm. Her breathing was louder so he was on good track, he came closer and blew his hot breath on her sensetive cunt and she was writhing under his spell.  

And now he was givig small licks to all around he clitoris, he just teased her few times and later he used his tongue, he was building the pressure. Her hand went to his hair, pulled hard but he didn’t complain, in fact he was turned on. ‘’You liked that love?’’ He looked up to meet her eyes, ‘’You like my tongue on you?’’ she couldn’t speak for a second and he slapped her thigh, ‘’I asked you a question little girl.’’‘’Y- yes! Please..’’His fingers were running down on her thighs as he was eating her he grabbed them hard and she arched her back. He slowly inserted a finger into her wet pussy, he was moving it  in and out, her reaction made him curl his finger up towards her g-spot. He didn’t forget to give her clitoris some love too, he added another finger and got faster because even though it was their first time he could see that she was getting close. He kept penetrating and eating her until she came, her legs were shaking and she was out of breath. His chin was covered with her cum and it sent heath to her cheeks. He climbed on her to gave her a slow kiss. His hard cock was on her stomach, craving for attention.

‘’I want you Hannibal.’’ She said looking into his eyes, trying to read his mind, ‘’Your wish is my command love.’’ He smirked. She opened her legs again, he placed his cock on her entrance, she could feel the precum. ‘’I will be gentle at first, warn me if I hurt you.’’ This man just ate her out like a starved mortal minutes ago but know he was concerned and looked worried. She could see he was bigger than any other men she slept with but she could take it. He slowyl inserted himself in her, and his eyes never left her, it was so intimate that she felt she could cum right there. He was balls deep in her and pulled back slowly, slammed back little faster, her whimpers were music to his ears and he got faster. Her long nails left red marks on his back and he licked how that felt, she could be though and next time he promised himself to let her dominant side shine. Hannibal was a man who never showed his true side and his true intentions but he felt like this woman could understand her, and maybe he could draw her into his darkness.

Their bodies had their own thoughts, they were moving together and their rhythm was unique. ‘’Hannibal…’’ she moaned his name countless times, ‘’You are so thight Y/N..’’ he was shocked to see that Y/N had this effect on him. ‘’Come on my cock.’’ He could feel her coming closer, they were panting and covered in sweat, ‘’You can do it again darling, I know it. Yes, that’s right.. come on my cock like a good girl.’’ And she saw stars, he didn’t pull out, came in her, it was like there was primitive man in him, ‘’Mine..’’ he thought. He kissed her and pulled out. ‘’Come to Florance with me.’’ He said which shocked himself, ‘’W- what?’’‘’I want to show you everything about myself, my path is dark but… with you, I think we can do it together. Be my partner in crime.’’Y/N didn’t exactly know what would happen but she didn’t want to live all alone in her house. She always wanted to on an adventure and the adventure found her.

Thank you for reading!

[amc-notthemovies]

The Secret History, by Donna Tartt Fancast

Richard Papen - Nick Robinson

Henry Winter - Darren Criss

“quite large, well over six feet… dark-haired, with a square jaw and coarse, pale skin. He might have been handsome had his features been less set, or his eyes, behind the glasses, less expressionless and blank. He wore dark English suits and carried an umbrella (a bizarre sight in Hampden) and he walked stiffly through the throngs and hippies and beatniks and preppies and punks with the self-conscious formality of an old ballerina, surprising in one so large as he.”

Julian Morrow - Christopher Waltz

“It was a small, wise face, as alert and poised as a question; and though certain features of it were suggestive of youth-- the elfin upsweep of the eyebrows, the deft lines of nose and jaw and mouth-- it was by no means a young face, and the hair was snow white.“

Charles & Camilla McCaluay - Dane Dehaan and Mia Wasikowska

“They looked very much alike, with heavy dark-blond hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and gave, as a couple of Flemish angels. And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden – where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de rigueur – they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or lon-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party… She, I thought, was very beautiful, in an unsettling, almost medieval way which would not be apparent to the casual observer.”

Francis Abernathy - Freddie Fox

“Angular and elegant, he was precariously thin, with nervous hands and a shrewd albino face and a short, fiery mop of the reddest hair I had ever seen. I thought (erroneously) that he dressed like Alfred Douglas, or the Comte de Montesquiou: beautiful starchy shirts with French cuffs; magnificent neckties; a black greatcoat that billowed behind him as he walked and made him look like a cross between a student prince and Jack the Ripper. Once, to my delight, I even saw him wearing pince-nez.”

Edmund “Bunny” Concoran - Josh Hutcherson 

“A sloppy blond boy, rosy-cheeked and gum-chewing, with a relentlessly cheery demeanor and his fists thrust deep in the pockets of his knee-sprung trousers. He wore the same jacket every day, a shapeless brown tweed that was frayed at the elbows and short in the sleeves, and his sandy hair was parted on the left, so a long forelock fell over one bespectacled eye.”

[supernaturalphobia]

Sam questions. Made by @gaysuperhell , tagged by @blahdose

-Sibling status (younger, middle, older, only child...)

-How long have you been stanning for: i’ll be honest i’m not a full on stan i just think he’s neat :) like sam is Good what are you gonna do about it

Favorite spn season, but if the only criteria was Sam’s hair: s1. the floppy college cut is where it’s at

-Favorite Sam-centric episode: Free to Be You and Me maybe?? 05x03. i liked that sam got to meet another addict in recovery which like confirmed/validated that the demon blood addiction wasn’t all that supernatural in nature, it’s an addiction like any other, it just happened to give him psychic powers, which was the addictive effect. he wasn’t turned or transformed, it’s entirely in character for sam to see a power like that and do his best to use it for good

-Favorite Sam era: s1-3

-Favorite song you would/have put in a Sam playlist: Vienna by Billy Joel

-Any ships you may like to mention: Saileen deserves every single right, though Samwena is also valid

-If you could steal one thing from Sam’s wardrobe, it would be: his cute lil jackets. they are Good, really tie the outfits together

-You must have some intense headcanons you need to talk about, tell me one Sam hc that drives you insane: @blahdose said “i guess this is more of a show headcanon but his psychic abilities were activated by Azazel and a link was needed to him to keep them alive, so they died when Azazel died, this is just a key part of my sanity as to not go insane about why he has no powers.” which U ARE SO RIGHT. also hc that rowena taught him some legit witchcraft and that’s why you get that cute “that’s my boy” scene in the crypt in s15 bc she’s proud not just of his strength in that moment but also bc she’s proud of the accomplishments she’s helped him gain. also why he got to inherit her spellbooks in peace. witch!sam is canon sam and we were robbed. ultimate finale includes saileen being witchy together bc remember how eileen was raised by a witch she definitely vibes with that shit

- Complete the sentence: If Sam cishet, then WHY....: queer allegory

- Favorite unhinged Sam moment: when dean almost got run over by a racist  truck and asked “what if [sam’s plan] didn’t work?!” and sam went “huh. hadn’t thought of that”

-Tell me something about the hbo Sam that lives in your brain: drug addiction

- Biggest injustice Supernatural commited against Sam (be as brief or as ranty as you desire): the entire show. character assassination! the abuse he got from dean! the point where they started giving him lines about how he liked being a hunter but in a way that made it sound like he’d just given up on any other life bc all other doors and windows are closed and he won’t get away from dean anyways like sure he loves his brother but i’m p sure he knows that shit ain’t healthy. AND?!?!? diminishing his parental relationship to jack????????? he was the obvious candidate for father figure but they got surprisingly few scens and i’m >:(/(/(/(/(/(/(/(/(/(

- Oh no, the writers forgot to give Jess a personality! Now it’s up to you. Tell me, what was Jess like: [insert john mulaney’s “she’s a bitch and i like her so much” here]. she’s very staunch in her beliefs in a way that matches sam (they have great debates together and are even better at demolishing people as a team). she’s not as concerned about what people think as sam is and has gotten into several arguments on sam’s behalf. she is well-adjusted. takes self-defense classes. she would get along with the good version of dean that lives in our heads but would fistfight canon dean.

-And finally, just say something about him that makes you smile ♥: his incredible patience and gentleness towards those who need it

tagging @its-a-harlequinade, @hellsking, @samdyke

[homosexualslug]

Sam Questions, made by @gaysuperhell and tagged by @blahdose(gaysuperhell this is the best tumblr questionnaire I have ever seen thank u for ur service) - Sibling status (younger, middle, older, only child)*

*TECHNICALLY oldest but was raised separately so I have only child energy - How long have you been stanning Sam for: Honestly since I started watching 2007/S3ish, I always vibed with Sam more than Dean. Nowadays I'm a SPN Ladies stan first and equal parts Cas and Sam stan second, Dean is just the most fun to psychoanalyze - Favorite SPN Season, but if the only criteria was Sam’s hair: SEASON EIGHT! It's so lush and beautiful and POWERFUL! Sometimes I just stare at it instead of paying attention to whatever's happening! - Favorite Sam-centric episode: Mystery Spot is still a fave because of him, boy really went through the spectrum of human emotion in those 50 minutes. Runner-ups: After School Special, The Man Who Knew Too Much, and Just My Imagination (I have a soft spot for young Sam lore) -Favorite Sam era: Season 4! He is no longer baby, he want power! But only because he thinks he's saving the world! Also, can't call it a whole arc but the taste we got of Samwitch throughout S13-S15 makes yearn for more. -Favorite song you would/have put in a Sam playlist: Don't have a Sam playlist but do have a very Sam-esque OC so tie between "Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea" by Missio, "Dark Speed" by Failure, and "Undefeated" by Incubus with honorable mention to Marina's "Bubblegum Bitch"

-Any ships you may like to mention: Saileen since Day 1, SamRuby (yeah yeah I know but look), Samwena (enjoy them as platonic mentor/mentee too), Sastiel (also enjoy as chaotic besties but damn if they wouldn't have been healthier for each other), Sam and Max Banes had potential - If you could steal one thing from Sam’s wardrobe, it would be: Purple dog shirt or the Hoodie™️ from 15x06 - You must have some intense headcanons you need to talk about, tell me one Sam hc that drives you insane: Stealing from HBO SPN - that Sam's a health nut because fruits/veggies don't have salt and won't make his throat burn because demon blood! - Complete the sentence: If Sam cishet, then WHY....: queer allegory about being kicked out by his dad and having something wrong with him? HMMM - Favorite unhinged Sam moment: Outside of all of Season 4 I'd also say 1) exorcising a half-dozen demons at once in My Bloody Valentine 2) third act of Mystery Spot and 3) literally shooting GOD - Tell me something about the HBO Sam that lives in your brain: Salt allergy, reflex whispering "christo" to see if hurts, angel healing makes him sick, etc. - Biggest injustice Supernatural commited against Sam (be as brief or as ranty as you desire): Boy oh boy 1) Ignoring most of his post-S7 trauma (Gadreel, BMOL torture, Lucifer, losing the hunters, etc) because the writers relied on him bouncing back faster than Dean 2) Never letting him know THE Voicemail was fake! 3) Blurry Wife because the misogyny of it all is so 2005 4) Being blamed for the apocalypse, being soulless, stopping hunting, etc. 5) The fact that Lucifer came back so many times and he didn't get to kill him ONCE as a treat

Also this is more @ the fandom, but how much Sam get ignored when talking about parenting Jack! Sam, who nurtured him and showed him kindness from Day 1! Who taught him how to use his abilities! Who didn't become what Lucifer wanted him to be and only wanted the same for Jack! - Oh no, the writers forgot to give Jess a personality! Now it’s up to you. Tell me, what was Jess like: True crime fan, super competitive at board games, got into law to help the little man, bisexual

- And finally, just say something about him that makes you smile ♥ : That he believes no one is truly beyond saving! That you can always choose to be a better person! That you decide who you are, no one else! Also, the fact that I got my first Bisexual Haircut as an excuse to cosplay him (thank u sam for being part of my queer journey)

Tagging @leydhawk @justsayingit @fangurl and any other Sam fans who follow me!

[guardianreadersofthegalaxy]

Dom’s mini Who reviews - the decent episodes

Aliens Of London/ World War Three – One of Davies’s ‘people watching the news’ episodes. The Slitheen design is good but the CGI and prosthetics have aged poorly. The Iraq allegory is solid and Jackie and Mickey get plenty to do. And Penelope Wilton is awesome.

Army Of Ghosts/ Doomsday – Yet more news watching. Torchwood are a bit boring but part 1 does a good job building mystique around the breach & sphere. The Dalek reveal blew my 13 year old mind. The scenes at the wall and Bad Wolf Bay pack a hell of a punch, thanks to Tennant, Piper & Gold.

Boom Town – Capturing the villain at the end of act 1 and having to decide what to do with them is fantastic premise. The restaurant scene is the highlight and I think it works that you never find out what the Doctor would have done. The setting is pretty dull though, as are the first fifteen minutes.

Fugitive Of The Judoon – This is just bananas. The Ruth & Cpt. Jack plots never converge for some reason. It’s not good but it is refreshingly mad. The Judoon look great and 13 gets plenty of comic moments as well as more serious stuff. Ruth Doctor is fine in the short time you see her.

The Girl Who Waited – Another solid premise. Even though you know young Amy will be alright, the drama works. Both Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill shine and the robots are fairly intimidating. My only gripe is that old Amy still has incredible hair for some reason.

The Husbands Of River Song – I love 12 doing comedy. Capaldi and Kingston have great chemistry and the final scene is really sweet. Matt Lucas’s best days are still ahead of him but Greg Davies is hilarious. The joke of River stupidly not recognising the Doctor is played out way too long though.

The Impossible Astronaut/ Day Of The Moon – IA feels like a really game changing series opener but knowing how it all turns out sours it on the rewatch. DotM is fun but crams way too much set up and it’s screwed up how they save the day. Still there are plenty of memorable moments and the setting is cool.

Into The Dalek – ANOTHER solid premise! This looks great and is actually exciting. It’s weird how they conflate hating the Daleks with goodness. They clean it up at the end but by then it’s too late. And the Dalek going rogue when they fix it is predictable. But I’m a sucker for good action and visuals.

Night Terrors – This is up there with Midnight & The Empty Child for DW’s scariest story. Those dolls are so creepy! I can take or leave everything else tbh. I only watch this on Halloween.

Partners In Crime – Great comedy. The running joke of the Doctor and Donna missing each other segues into the excellent dumbshow sequence. The Adipose CGI is rubbish but just look at those little guys! Loses points for the dull setting but earns them for giving Bernard Cribbons screentime.

Planet Of The Ood – Now here’s a cool setting! They don’t tend to do many ice planets. The scene of 10 running from the crane is unnecessary but who cares? Donna is so lovely when she sympathises with the Ood. Not all the music works for me though, bit too weird? Maybe.

The Rebel Flesh/ The Almost People – This is kinda underrated. By the end I’m a bit sick of the castle and brown jumpsuits. And I find it hard to believe that the humans would want to kill their own clones. That said, the action and mystery is solid and two 11th Doctors is fun.

Robot Of Sherwood – This is so much fun! Tom Riley shines as the swashbuckling Robin and has great comedic chemistry with Capaldi’s Doctor. 12’s grumpiness serves more of purpose here than in most of Series 8. Comparing the Doctor to a legendary folk hero is a bit wanky though.

The Snowmen – The first 20 minutes are really good. The scene when Clara follows the Doctor up the ladder is magical. The Doctor giving up on a heroics is abandoned way too soon. When he puts on his bow tie again it should have felt like Spiderman 2, not The Amazing Spiderman 2.

[poetictrekkie]

Dance Me to the End of Love

My #merrymonthofcohen submission! A TNG fic based on Leonard Cohen’s Dance Me to the End of Love.

Thank you to @killitwithtears for creating this event.

https://open.spotify.com/track/3mFzIFFFmEXTQs6BDAK2ZZ

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin. Dance me through the panic, till I’m gathered safely in. Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove. Dance me to the end of love.

In his dreams, she was in the family vineyards and she was smiling. She was wearing blue, which complemented her red hair. There were stains from wine on her lips, colouring them a deep, uneven shade of burgundy. She was dancing on her own, humming an obscure melody, holding her arms out as if she was dancing with someone. Yet she was alone. She wore no shoes, and her pale feet glided across the grass and the dirt. He could hear birdsong, but no other music to speak of. But she kept perfect time, waltzing to the sounds of the doves and the wind rustling through the long alleyways of grapevines.

He woke from those dreams slowly, unrushed, and even turned to the empty pillow next to him as if to wish it good morning. There was no head resting upon it, but the stars outside cast fragmented light across the bedspread. Though it was perpetual night, out in the depths of space, Jean-Luc woke to a self-made dawn.

Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone. Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon. Show me slowly what I only know the limits of. Dance me to the end of love.

“Good morning,” she said.

She was wearing the blue sweater that he loved so much. He didn’t tell her, of course. Complimented it, perhaps once, long ago, discreetly. He ushered her in, pulled the chair out for her, poured her a cup of tea, proferred a platter of croissants. The same old routine. He’d do it a thousand times, and feel a rush of pleasure every time she raised the mug of tea to her lips. He would have loved to kiss her after breakfast, taste the lingering flavours of bergamot and butter on her tongue. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine it, because he knew that the thought of her would hover over his shoulder for the rest of the day. He couldn’t afford such a luxury.

“There’ll be a recital tonight,” she said. “Are you going? They’re performing Kreisler’s Dances.”

“I shall try to make it if I’m not busy,” he said.

“Jean-Luc, you’ve got to emerge from your cave at sometime.”

“In Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, no one believed the philosopher who left and returned to the cave, claiming that the world outside was so much brighter and splendid.”

Beverly laughed, reaching across to touch his hand. It was a gentle graze of the fingers, friendly, teasing, nothing more, but Jean-Luc didn’t speak for fear that some inappropriate declaration of love would escape his mouth.

“The philosopher shouldn’t care,” she said, the starlight catching in her eyes. “He has seen the true world and looked past the projections he had seen all his life.”

Plato evidently forgot to describe the vision of loveliness that tempted the philosopher outside of the cave. That, or he was ashamed that love of a woman had managed to exceed the pure and noble love of wisdom.

His comm-badge let out a shrill chirp just then, pulling him from the verge of clasping her hand and keeping it on top of his. He instead took his hand back, listened to the message, and stood up. He bid Beverly goodbye, promising that he would try his best to make it to the recital, and then left his quarters. One could swear they heard him exhale a sigh of sad relief when he stepped across the threshold.

Dance me to the wedding, now, dance me on and on. Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long. We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above. Dance me to the end of love.

In her dreams, they were in the graveyard of the colony where she used to live. He wore a suit that fit him well, though rather old-fashioned. There was a top hat resting on his head, and his jacket had long tails. Sometimes she was wearing her grandmother’s wedding dress, the one she had admired when she was a child, though there was a small stain under the arm and the white tulle was yellowing with age. Sometimes she wore nothing at all, though he didn’t seem to notice. They were dancing, a slow waltz beneath the arching canopy of the weeping willow and above the graves of ancestors, of friends. He held her gently, and she rested her chin on his shoulder. There were tears streaming down his face, as if this was the last dance, rather than the first. His grip tightened as he buried his face into the cloud of her burnished-copper hair.

“Don’t go,” he said, weeping. “Don’t leave me again.”

She turned her head to reply but his lips were on hers, and this was the moment she would become aware of her strange nakedness, if this was one of those dreams where she wore nothing, and this was when the rain would begin to fall from the gathering clouds, and this was when she would remember they were dancing in a graveyard, and there were two graves that were freshly dug, the tombstone had their names on it, except under her first name there was his last name instead of the one she always thought she’d die with, beloved wife of Jean-Luc Picard, and then he spun her around and there was Jack standing beneath the willow tree. Her dead husband. Jack.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Jack, I’m so sorry.”

And then she was awake in her own bed, and breathing fast, and she raised her hand to her cheeks, and there she found trails left by tears she didn’t know she had shed.

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born. Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn. Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn. Dance me to the end of love.

He did come to the recital, after all. He sat on her right, quietly wondering how it was that the dress she was wearing looked just like the one that she wore in his dreams. He couldn’t focus on the sound of the violin, though the music was true, and flawless, and very real. He could only think of her, of the way she smiled to herself when the violin soared higher and higher, the way she seemed both lost in the music and yet grounded in the room, in her chair. She was the first to rise to her feet when the music was finished, her hands fluttering like two pale and sinuous birds as she clapped. And even before the applause died down, Jean-Luc found himself asking her whether she’d like to come to his quarters for a drink.

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin. Dance me through the panic, till I’m gathered safely in. Touch me with your naked hand, or touch me with your glove. Dance me to the end of love.

She was stretched out on his couch, holding a small glass of port wine that was nearly drained. There was a flush in her cheeks, and she was laughing.

“Don’t lie,” she said. “I know you’re an excellent dancer. I saw you at Miles and Keiko’s wedding. Why didn’t you dance with me then, Jean-Luc?”

“I danced with the bride,” he said. “One customary dance, and that was it.”

“Dance with me now.”

“I told you I don’t dance.”

“I don’t care. Dance with me, Jean-Luc.”

She drank the rest of the port, and swung her feet off the couch. She was next to him, she was pulling him to his feet, she was taking one of his hands in hers, and putting the other one around her waist. She smelled of antiseptic and something flowery, clean yet natural, proper yet wild. He let her sway with him, revolving in one place. There was no music, but they kept perfect rhythm. Neither of them said a word as they danced in the dimly lit room, under the stars, between the furniture. She didn’t say a word when he drew her closer, barely an inch of space between them. He said nothing when she put her lips on his, and they were still dancing, kissing, dreaming that this was all there ever needed to be to life, to living. That there was no need for concealing love, for feeling guilty about love, or for repressing love. To dance without music, in the light of millions of distant stars yet to be explored, in the arms of the person who loved you, this was all that was needed. All that should be needed.

Dance me to the end of love.

[coeurvrai]

Serefin, the idiot, panics that he’s lost his eyesight until he realises it’s night time, so of course he can’t see jack shit. 

Apparently we have gone from the royal gardens to his BEDROOM, somehow! Talk about a hard fucking cut, like jfc

“This is scandalous, Żaneta,” he mumbled, resting his head back against the pillows.

“Definitely more scandalous than the prince being attacked in his own palace gardens,” she agreed.

Żaneta has her head screwed on, which is more than I can say about Serefin for the entirety of this book so far.

Apparently the assassin that Serefin “acrid sprayed” in the face survived and is in the palace’s dungeons, so that’s something; though bad news for Serefin, his father has heard about the whole thing. If the assassins aren’t ones sent by the king, you’d think he’d get better security by now.

Serefin muses that it’s probably not his father’s because they wouldn’t have failed to kill him if it was. I mean... probably not? Considering this whole thing has been that his dad has plans for his heir and those plans are murder plans. Also what’s happening with the Rawalyk? Also how much time is passing in between these chapters? How long has Serefin been back in the palace? Does time pass at the same rate in both POVs?

“My father is going to blame the Kalyazi,” he mused.

“Was it not them?” Żaneta asked, standing up.

“I . . . don’t know.” The Kalyazi did not train incompetent assassins; his eye was a tribute to that. This could have been the work of the Crimson Vulture. Perhaps his father was behind the attack and she had shifted the pieces so incompetent assassins were sent instead to give him a better chance. He hated living with a black cloud of doom hovering over his steps, certain that his future was bleak but not having any clear answers.

I mean, how do we know that? Lmao Those could’ve just been very competent assassins and these could’ve been very bad assassins, if they are Kalyazi.

Serefin makes Żaneta leave the room and Kacper comes in instead, and Kacper comments that Żaneta didn’t look too happy leaving. Kacper mentions that a Vulture is interrogating the remaining assassin.

What information did he have? An attack on his life, a plan to find a queen for Tranavia, and questions with no answers. Why was his father sending thousands upon thousands of prisoners to the Salt Mines? Why was his father working so closely with the Vultures? To what end? Why now?

What was happening?

Well apparently your dad wants you fucking dead and he’s trying to achieved godhood through blood magic and dead people, apparently, so y’know. Why the Vultures are going along with this when it’s been made explicitly clear that they only answer to the Black Vulture, their king, who knows? Maybe this is a play by the Vultures themselves to manipulate and control the king, I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Have you seen the current list of families participating in the Rawalyk?” Kacper asked.

“No, why?”

“It seems to be fluctuating,” he said. “Names of girls keep appearing then disappearing suddenly.”

“What do you mean?”

Kacper shook his head. “I’m not sure. I want to look into it, see if the girls are just getting nervous or if it’s something else.”

Serefin let out a breathless laugh. “We are so paranoid.”

I do hope that this fucking means something and isn’t a plot thread that’s going to be dropped later on in the book. I mean, that’s a futile hope considering @jefflion​ told me that the Rawalyk is pretty worthless. But oh boy, Serefin hasn’t looked at who he could hypothetically marry? Dude, why wouldn’t you?

Serefin decides that after nearly getting assassinated, it’s time to see his mum cause oh well, not the time to procrastinate.

He wasn’t sure she could help him, not with anything. But it was all he could do at this point. He was trapped in a cage of gold and iron with no door to escape from and had been given a dagger when he needed a saw to cut a hole in his prison.

Okay then, Serefin lmao Look, I’m all for that “a golden cage is still a cage” imagery, but like, chill. Being more edgy with it does not, in fact, make that allegory any more impactful.

Serefin nodded absently, before frowning and squinting up at Kacper. “Are you all right?”

Kacper blinked in surprise. “Me? Of course, why? They weren’t trying to kill me.”

Serefin eyed the other boy, taking in his dark hair and skin, the scar that cut across one of his eyebrows, and his sharp, brown eyes. He hadn’t grown up fighting off assassination attempts like Serefin and Ostyia. By all rights, Kacper should have been just another soldier in the king’s army; he was of low birth. His exceptional talent with blood magic and his sharp skills for espionage meant he had been shuffled around in the army until he was assigned to Serefin’s company. Their friendship had been struck a month into Serefin’s first tour of the front when he was sixteen. Kacper had gotten into a spitting fight with Ostyia. She broke his arm, he fractured three of her ribs, and it had taken Serefin knocking them both unconscious to get them apart.

Serefin still didn’t know what the fight was about. Neither would tell him. It had taken another week for Serefin to promote Kacper to his personal service after Kacper had nearly lost his other arm on Serefin’s behalf.

I get it, Kacper is brown, Kacper has dark skin, you don’t need to be Like That about it lmao Also that’s such a heavy-handed way to exposition your way through how the three of them met and became friends. Also Kacper is good at espionage and I’m trying to figure out whether he’s a more functional version of Azriel from ACOTAR or not...

But I mean, Azriel is a lowwwww fucking bar to clear, so I mean even if he is better than him, that doesn’t mean much tbh lol

But a “spitting fight”, fucking what? lmao Also if he’s so good at espionage, what is he doing as a common soldier in the army in the first place? Also I might just be being petty, but I still feel like rewarding a person for personal heroism and saving your life by assigning them as one of your personal bodyguards after your apparent childhood best friend got into an intense fight with them a week before is a bit of an overreaction but that might just be me.

Also, would like to know the circumstances of how and what Kacper saved Serefin’s life from but alas, we don’t get that important detail. A shame.

Anyways, Serefin and Kacper talk a bit more before Serefin leaves with Ostyia to see his mother. She seems like an utter delight.

“I have been in this blasted city for weeks now and my only son has just finally deigned to grace me with his presence.” The graceful lilt of his mother’s voice came floating down the hall. Lena shot Serefin a sympathetic look. Serefin had always found his mother to be a bit baffling. Both of his parents were larger than life, greater than reality. He had seen so little of them growing up.

His childhood had been spent with tutors and servants. His parents were figureheads who would move in and out of his life with little permanence. They sometimes appeared in the evening at mealtimes only to disappear once again at the start of a new day. Serefin had Ostyia—whose family had always lived in the palace—as well as a cousin on his mother’s side, but that was all. The cousin had left when they were still very young, off to the country for his health. His aunt and uncle were still seen around the palace, Serefin knew that much, but he had never seen his cousin again, and had eventually stopped inquiring.

Isn’t he your only child period? lol Also I’m sure this cousin was so important, as ED doesn’t bother to even give him a name. It’s also apparently the next fucking day, which is just a common theme in this book where we just jump from location to location or day to day, and expected to just follow along. I still don’t know how long he’s been at this palace, and how time passing in one POV relates to time passing in the other POV.

Serefin and Klarysa talk a little bit about the assassination attempt while Klarysa reinforces her apparent contempt for the city of Grazyk, and she’s not happy that he visited Pelageya before he visited her. I don’t know how egregious that is considering we don’t know how long it’s been since he visited her on his first day back in the palace.

Oh and Serefin describes the room as lavish, befitting of the Queen of Tranavia but we don’t get any description of its lavishness.

“Do you think I can turn the court to my side?” he asked.

She blinked, straightening in her chair. “Serefin?”

“Oh, I’m sure he knows anyway,” Serefin said, waving a hand. “I just need to know how many steps ahead of me he is.”

“Your father—” she put emphasis on the word ‘father’ as if it meant something to Serefin. Maybe once it had. Years ago when he thought he might win his father’s love. Not anymore.

“I found a cleric in Kalyazin. No one else seems to find that important. Doesn’t it strike you as a bit strange? They sent the Vultures after her, but she escaped.”

Serefin, our incompetent alcoholic prince, we’ve been over this a million times already; let’s not get into your blatant hypocrisy again. Also it’s kind of funny how this chapter just isn’t up to snuff compared to like, the last Serefin chapter. Like of course it’s better than any and all Nadya’s chapters so far, but like, oh boy.

His mum tells him that he should listen to Pelageya and her prophecies. I don’t get why, if his mum cares so much, that she isn’t doing that much to protect her only son. Like if his mum doesn’t really care about him, that’d be another thing, but we have no real reason to believe that she doesn’t so far.

“Listen to her, Serefin. I know you don’t want to. I know you think her mad. But listen to her. She could be the only thing that saves you.”

“Saves me? Yes, I’m clearly trying not to die here, but I don’t think the witch is going to help.”

“Not from your father, from the Vultures. From the gods. From everything.”

“Mother?”

“Pelageya knows what she speaks of.” His mother was speaking quickly, her voice low. She knew whatever they said would return to the king. She cast a suspicious glance toward where the wall met the ceiling, the likeliest of locations for eavesdropping spells. “I can’t help you, Serefin, you know that.”

Firstly, eavesdropping spells?! Can’t Serefin cast a spell to detect other spells or charms??? Also you’re telling me that Serefin, ultra talented general blood mage prodigy that he is, can’t cancel out any potential eavesdropping spells so he can have this conversation in peace??? WHY DON’T THEY JUST HAVE THIS CONVERSATION IN PELAGEYA’S TOWER SINCE NOBODY HAS FUCKED WITH THAT PLACE APPARENTLY.

It’s not like Pelageya cares! Pelageya apparently likes the Queen and the Queen likes Pelageya! She’s a companion of the queen!

Serefin felt cold. “What has he done?”

Klarysa shook her head. There was fear in her eyes.

She can’t tell me, he realized. If she tells me, he’ll kill her, too. What did she know that he had yet to figure out?

“Give me something,” he pleaded.

“Your father has always been a monster,” she said. “But at least he had his own mind, his decisions were his own.” She shook her head. “I fear he too has been taken by the Vultures.”

I swear to fucking god, if his dad is a fucking Valg, I will scream. I am not going through that shit again. FE: Fates already did it too and I am just, leave it be.

It was altogether likely there was discord amongst the Vultures as well. That the Crimson Vulture was working apart from her own king, the Black Vulture. But who was holding the strings?

Serefin still had no answers.

And so don’t we, about a lot of things. But that is the end of that chapter! We learn really nothing new on the whole “king is evil and corrupt” front, that he’s being manipulated and controlled by the Vultures is kind of a given. Not as interesting as this plot initially was. But still, I will take mediocrity over whatever the fuck is going on in Nadya’s chapter.

Which is up next!

[yoosungslololpartner]

Hey, could I get a matchup please? :D I‘m a binational and bilingual girl. Actually, I can speak 5 languages fluently and I‘d like to learn more, since languages are one of my passions. But I also find STEM subjects very interesting and am very good at them. ‚Jack of all trades, master of none‘ would be a very fitting way to describe me. I‘m very ambitious, loyal, curious, active (I run and workout) and philosophical. However, I also procrastinate, and tend to be rather depressed.. (part 1)

It’s been a hot minute! But exams are stressing me out so what better way to chill out that to write a match-up for my lovely followers! Now I am SO SO SO sorry it is BEYOND late, and you might never see this anon because you’ve forgotten :’( BUT I will still answer all my asks on the off chance anyone still reads it. I mean it’s just as enjoyable for me as it is for you so to whoever is around. Enjoy! ^_^ 

*DISCLOSURE* I do get a little deep and emotional and the end so sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted… I’m so proud you survived an eating disorder! I’ve been there before and I just want you all to know I’m always here to talk (even if I do take long to write I answer my messages promptly always) Love yourselves you’re all so beautiful I love you!!!

I match you up with V! It was an insanely hot summer’s day; the sun was beating down melting everything and anything under its penetrating ray. The pathetic fan in your room served no purpose beside its slight breeze that lightly blew the pages of your chemistry book, rising but falling unceremoniously beside your slumped form on the desk beside it. While STEM was your passion you were out of your mind to think you could get any studying done in this exasperating heat. It was then you saw the bright coloured running shoes in the corner of your room and decided: why not make the most of this awesome day?

Grabbing a towel, a bottle of water, and some headphones you were out the door and running at a brisk pace. You enjoyed these runs, not only because it kept you active, but the breathtaking scenery which would distract you from whatever worries or emotions had been floating around from the day. When you entered the park, you slowed down to take a short break on one of the wooden park benches. Sipping your water, you hadn’t noticed that a intimidating man had taken a seat right next to you.

Immediately you began to feel uncomfortable as he closed the short gap between you, and with a sleazy smirk on his face attempted to talk to you.

“Hey Babe~ All that sweat on your body, you must be really hot? Maybe I can help you cool down back at my place?” You felt your stomach churn, and you physically retracted, as his disgusting words made you want to get up and run.

“Ha, ha thank you. But I have somewhere to be-“ You said as you got up, only to be dragged back down as he held tight onto your wrist.

“Not so fast Princess-“

At this exact moment, a blue-haired photographer had been taking pictures of the blooming flowers when he saw this scene unfold before his eyes (well more like heard, his eyes weren’t in the best condition)

“There you are honey! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! You can’t be jogging around the park on your own like that, perverts like these are lurking around everywhere.” The blue-haired man fabricated as he swiftly lead you away from that creep.

As soon as you were far enough he let go of your hand and gave you a warm bright smile, making your heart flutter ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry for being so forward, I hope I didn’t offend you by touching you without permission. I just wanted to make it clear you weren’t interested, men in this park can be persistent.” He said with a sad and apologetic face.

“Oh no, thank you so much! I’m sure if you hadn’t come I would have decked him! Although he might of deserved it, your help definitely seems like the most sensible option.” You exclaimed with gratitude.

“I’m glad. My name is Jihyun Kim by the way. Can I ask what yours is?” He questioned as he adjusted his camera pouch on his neck.

“It’s_______. Nice to meet you Jihyun…and thank you again…” You blushed slightly as your anxiety began to rise again. This guy was really nice, but what if he’s just being polite out of pity? I want to see him again there’s no way I could ask him out…Ah forget it I should just go home-

“Is something the matter?” He asked as he watched as you fiddled with the aux cord of your headphones.

“Uh no…I should go now though. Bye.” You blushed hard as you turned sharply like an acrobat on a wire, avoiding anymore torturous eye contact.

“Wait! _____!” The sound of your name made you stop in your tracks as you shyly turned around with a coy scratch to your head. Your hand came back drenched with sweat. Oh god! Am I sweating this much! Can the ground just swallow me up?

“If it isn’t too much trouble for you, would you perhaps like to join me for dinner later this evening?” He asked with a beautifully radiant smile. So he does like me? You thought? Or not? Maybe he just wants to make fun of me….What do I say?

“Ok…” You said with hesitation. Once again he smiled, and promised to pick you up at eight. So this was a date? Oh boy….

Your first date with V, was unlike any you had ever been on. It was a rocky start to begin with as you could barely utter a word without the little voice in your head telling you to be quiet. But when you arrived at the exhibit everything became a dream. Before dinner, V showed you around his latest work. His images truly were beautiful. One in particular caught your eye of a fire burning in a cave.

“That’s an interesting one. What made you want to photograph this?”

“I’m glad you asked! This one has a bit of a philosophical angle so if you’re not into that sort of thing just shut me up….” He began telling you his inspiration by Plato’s Allegory of the cave, to which you absolutely loved! He was astonished how intrigued you were, usually people would tell him to put a sock in it whenever he tried to explain his philosophical angles, but you couldn’t get enough.

The evening was sweet; V returned you home and bid you good night. He didn’t expect a kiss or ask to go inside. He thanked you for spending the night with him and expressed how he would love to see you again.

You did see V again after that night. However your relationship continued at a slow pace as you wanted to be more comfortable before pursuing a romantic attachment.  The two of you decided to collaborate and make a fundraising charity for women in need. You were so happy to have found someone who cares about the well being of others as much as you do. He truly did admire you vigor and drive to change the world. And before he knew it he felt that familiar feeling of warmth in his heart when he looked into your eyes. You and V were friends for an extremely long time. Not to his complete displeasure though. He got to know you for you which made him fall in love with you all the more. He loved how you could speak so fluently and varied, it was extremely helpful when he had clients from across the world. Also he did slightly get chills down his spine whenever you spoke in another language. Whenever you studied your STEM subjects and excitedly taught him the laws of science he would listen and watch you with rapture. Seeing you happy was like a drug to him. He supported your dream in studying with all his heart, and whenever you became stressed he would always cheer you on. He knew you were completely different from Rika. With Rika he had fallen in love so quickly, confused with pity and protection. But with you he didn’t feel as though he had rushed. On the contrary, you two had formed a friendship. You were his friend. His other half. But he needed to tell you, or else he might lose you to someone else.

After he built up the courage one day, he decided today would be the day he revealed his feelings for you. He called you but you didn’t answer. He waited and called you again but no answer. He became worried since you usually answered his calls checking if you had lunch. He decided to go to your apartment just to check if you were ok.

When he arrived he knocked at your door calmly. He waited patiently before he heard a shuffle a click. You stood in the doorway eyes red with tears huddled in a blanket as you murmured for him to come in.

V not wanting to force you into speaking simply sat beside you and gently rubbed your back as you quietly cried into a pillow. While you adored V, he was the last person you wanted to see you like this. You had been watching TV when you saw a weight loss advert. Before you knew it all those painful memories came flooding back to the forefront of your mind. Threatening to spill out and throw you back into the dark forests of your mind. Struggling to look V in the eyes, you decided to tell him of the past you had experienced, considering how honest he had been with his traumatic past with Rika. Maybe he could understand…help me feel whole again.

After you finally choked out the last of each painful detail, you finally built up the courage to look V in the eye.

He had his head bowed and his arms crossed pensively. You suddenly felt like you had made a mistake, what if he thinks I’m a freak?

“_______. Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it must have been hard. And I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry this for so long. I know I can’t erase what has been said in the past to you, or protect you from whatever is hurting you. But I want you to know this… You are the most beautiful, honest, loyal, and caring woman I have ever met. Some days all I can do is think about you. The way you smile, that radiant smile whenever you fight for what you believe in. Each day I’m with you I feel immeasurable amounts of happiness. And it saddens me to see you feel as though you aren’t the perfect woman I see in front of me.”

Using his free hand he gently tilted your head to place a soft kiss on your cheek, moist from the tears.

“Please don’t cry. I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.”

[floggingink]

Riverdale, “Episode Twenty-One: House of the Devil”

Jughead writes at the Whyte Wyrm now, which presumably people, there, still think is weird

Fifth period is AP English: Jughead compares the Black Hood to Edgar Allan Poe’s Red Death, which I think was an allegory for like, the Plague

“CARNAL DEFIANCE”

Sixth period is Intro to Film: Why does Cheryl call Archie & Veronica making out “xenomorphs,” which are the aliens in Aliens? I need help

Jughead drops the name “Varchie,” truly proving he is not above the rest of us

I like to think that Jughead chronicling the carnal defiance is him thinking to himself how objective and journalistic he is being

the carnal defiance montage is good, though

Veronica was rich: “The tasting menu at Pourquoi is thirteen courses, Archie.”

literally on a white fur rug in front of a fire?

I like the soft class differences in Archie immediately suggesting they maybe watch Netflix and Veronica immediately suggesting they maybe watch HBO

Veronica as usual is an emotionally-multitasking saint-genius in giving Archie a genuine had-a-good-time kiss as he frantically leaves

Jug calls McGinty “Freddy Krueger,” which I will allow

Jughead doubts it: Jughead is “dubious” that the Reaper is the BH, as he’d have to be in his 60’s. plus, he was MAYBE lynched! or they lynched someone who was MAYBE him!

God, Betty and Jughead Black & Golding it up at Pop’s hit me with some choice nostalgia. remember when they tried to break Polly out of Catholic school? innocent times!

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO, OKAY.”

Betty’s sweater with that red pencil skirt???

Veronica’s sleeveless floral blouse with that bow???

Veronica VERY NICELY looks excited that FP is getting out of jail. I don’t know if she cares, but she will act like she cares. Veronica is just that good

Archie > Dawson: Archie being like, I assume you need help with something because your life sucks and I’ve come to expect it, and Jughead and Betty being like, Yes, continue to investigate this decades-old murder while we plan a working-class graduation party, truly, sums everything up about them

I do applaud the self-awareness of Veronica being like, We’re Bughead right now?

these two angels are up for it. Archie doesn’t give him any nonsense about Moose’s physical therapy (I hope Moose is okay). he’ll Scooby Gang with Veronica for his bro

Cheryl’s pins: Cheryl has her own special red towel, because…..because…..

Gay?!: I do want an unprompted back massage with lavender essential oil from Cheryl, but Josie is one tea with Penelope away from needing to Get Out

What damn high school in America: weirdly, I feel like Ms. Svenson is largely guileless here, but like...don’t just open the door…

Cheryl draws back, the moment over, Josie is like...I gotta go...

Hiram’s exceedingly wholesome red sweater

Veronica gets my favorite line of the night: “Well, I don’t know about those other people, but we’re ACTUALLY SINNERS.”

“Damn good coffee”: I don’t know what “the martial arts” are, but Andre is trained in them

Smithers is dead, right? Smithers is dead

The female gaze: “Archie, as pictured here exiting the shower, would literally die for you, so keep him around.”

can we give Archie a more interesting phone background?

Alice is dusting with an actual feather duster? those DO not work

TBH what is Jughead’s plan with the Mayor? she has demonstrated many times over that she does not GAF about the southside, and Jughead is not exactly a charismatic master salesman. what he needs to do is get Veronica to talk to HIRAM about the southside, but that ship has sailed. I want to say I’m with Serpent Daddy on this one, and you know what if that makes me a little bitch, THEN I GUESS I AM ONE

I do like the Generation Z insurrection from inside of the Serpents, though. phase out the olds! maybe Tall Boy SHOULD shut up and let them fucking try and actually save their part of town. it won’t work, but it will be honorable. plus then they’d be younger and cooler, like the Ghoulies. okay, Jughead, you brought me around. except at this point in time I still think I would rather be a Ghoulie

Jughead drunk on his own righteousness and calling for “a vote” to oust Tall Boy is like the most assertive he has ever been

Veronica, hell-bent that they not talk about It, brings up the murder house, the BH letter, and how she wants to get laid

Veronica has her reading glasses at the breakfast table!!! VERONICA I LOVE YOU. I’LL SAY IT TOO

okay I do think Fred is right that with “those three words,” people are usually “on different schedules”

Please protect Betty: Alice lets Betty “borrow” the station wagon on the condition that she, Alice, drives it

INCREDIBLY SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED? CARNAL DEFIANCE?

“Mom! What?” “Wow.”

brace yourself because the Riverdale prison is called “Shankshaw”

FP leaving the Serpents is fucking news to Jughead

“Working, Warden Cooper.”

oh, AA? AA, FP? I’m looking at my watch

FP lifting his pinkie to drink his coffee like Alice shows just how fierce prison turned him

Sheriff Keller’s continued patience with the Scoobies is the act of a desperate man

“The Devil’s house? What if he’s home?”

Sexy, aesthetic Southside:  Jughead’s motorcycle jacket is good and his helmet hair is great

of course FP has that obnoxious man-child motorcycle with the jacked-up handlebars

FP and Jughead have apparently parked alongside a Civil War battlefield

FP says when he was 16, Jughead’s age, his father kicked him out of the house, so he joined the Serpents. this is like exactly the opposite of what FP & Jughead are doing, but in the saddest possible way

Jughead must ACTUALLY like being in the Serpents. a group where he isn’t the odd one out all the time. the non-joiner joined and now doesn’t want to leave

FP’s condition is that Jughead keeps writing. FP DOES LOVE HIS SON, THE SCREW-UP

“I will. I do, every day.” YOU’RE BETTER THAN ME, JUG

I can’t endorse FP’s knockoff Ray-Bans, though

Cheryl’s sheaths: THAT SHIRT?

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Cheryl is DISGUSTED that Reggie is going to escort Josie to his father’s car dealership opening. $5,000, though?? to some people, Cheryl, that is A LOT OF MONEY

The Blossom spawn: “Clean that up, plebe. The way you did my brother’s blood.”

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: I think Cheryl is allowed at least one lashing-out at FP (FOR DISPOSING OF HER BROTHER’S BODY) and FP knows it

a “king”? a “leader of men”? was he, Jughead?

Betty’s solution is, as always, to throw a party

These students are legally children: Toni is bartending? Toni, a legal child, is bartending? I think if Alice really wanted to hit them where it hurts she could simply report them to the ABC for flagrant underage drinking violations (Toni is not drinking)

I say “X-adjacent” all the time, so I liked Betty calling herself “Serpent-adjacent” 

ALTHOUGH SHE IS JUST AS MUCH A HEREDITARY SERPENT AS JUGHEAD

Byrdie, I think, smokes a couple of packs a day

Jughead wants the Serpents to stick up for themselves through actually viable legal channels. Toni wants to eliminate their sexist, misogynistic initial rituals. Sweet Pea probably wants to include an outreach program and feed little kids before school in case they can’t afford breakfast! PURGE THE OLDS FROM THE SERPENTS, THE KIDS ARE DOING GREAT

Jughead has come a long way from balking at Betty throwing him a birthday party for like six people to convincing FP that a retirement party at the alcoholic bar owned by his old biker gang will be fun, only last “like three hours”

“Don’t bogart the egg rolls.”

Penny thinks Jughead’s “soft underbelly” is his “quite fetching” girlfriend, even more than his well-meaning dolt father

Veronica’s cape!!!!!

FLASHBACK CAM!!!!

of course the SHATTERED PORTRAIT of mother and child is still there, like in Tarzan

this Reaper was a stone-cold motherfucker

OH, THE ORIGINAL BLOODSTAINED WOOD IS STILL THERE?

Archie finds the clue box! Veronica finds the third child’s initials! Archie and Veronica are GREAT Betty and Jugheads!

why is Penny AROUND if EVERYONE is scared of her? because she can actually do a good job when she’s “incentivized”?

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Toni’s lovely, looping pink side-braids

Alice storms over to Pop’s, preemptively furious that Betty is going to pole dance to become Serpent-adjacent

FP is like, PLEASE SHUT UP

this scene is GREAT. “THEY WEREN’T ALL MISTAKES.” FP’s bowtie! he looks great in white? “Are you high on fumes?”

Alice tries to throw Hal in FP’s face and FP is like, drop that like it’s hot

Best costume bit: Veronica’s perkily no-nonsense Lois Lane outfit during the debrief

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: Jughead is quick to point out the possible Dexter ramifications on a body having to watch their family get murdered

Jughead sort of coos in Betty’s ear to remind her they have to leave

Betty’s belated invitation amuses Veronica and nonplusses Archie, and Jughead rather gallantly gives them an easy out in case they like DON’T WANT TO GO, “IT’S NOT A BIG DEAL”

Archie’s waist looks particularly small in that shirt

Joseph Conway honestly out here thinking he can outrun Archie! when the only person who can do that is Jughead Jones!

AN EVIL PREACHER!

A REAL MOB!

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica’s interrogation was great because Veronica is a natural Bad Cop

Betty has a picture of herself and Jughead at the Retro Reunion Dance from Hell on her mirror

I think Hermione and Hiram say “I love you” all the time, in many different ways. he calls her a dove. she brings him his coffee. he gets her boyfriend’s underage construction workers beaten up. she claims she wrote a threatening letter about herself

Archie’s brown Henley

Jughead did “a sweep” of “the perimeter”

Archie telling himself it’s going to be a good night, Jughead pats him on the back: “Here’s hoping”

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: once again Alice demonstrates that dressing “like the southside” does not preclude dressing fabulously, rather that other Serpents are simply not putting in the time

Alice does not want the worm that comes with her shot of mezcal

Jughead, PRECIOUSLY, clarifies that when he said “You look incredible,” he meant Betty, he was not hitting on Alice

Archie is VERY GOOD telling Veronica that he said what he said because HE was feeling good! GOOD, ARCHIE

HOLD THE PHONE, HAS ARCHIE SEEN DONNIE DARKO?

Archie immediately pivots to passive aggression when his kindness is not reciprocated with declarations of love! BAD, ARCHIE

“Mad World” is a great song. I would hedge on whether or not it’s a great karaoke song. I would strongly hedge on whether it’s a rousing crowd-pleaser at a drunken gangbanger send-off

did Archie like Donnie Darko? did he understand it? if so, could he explain it to me?

Veronica’s silky alto makes another appearance

“DEAD END FP”????

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: oh, Sweet Pea’s there! Sweet Pea is standing alone by the wall. Sweet Pea COULD be standing with Jughead, if he wanted. Jughead is also standing alone

apparently Betty has a whole secret drawer of black lingerie

never in ten thousand billion years would Jughead enjoy any sort of exhibitionism on Betty’s behalf in front of other people. BECAUSE HE’S FUCKING SHY, unless he’s calling Tall Boy a bitch

Gay.: Toni is amused. carnal defiance?

50 Shades of Betty: is Betty a Serpent now? BETTY?

I did rather enjoy the possibly inadvertent parallel to that episode of Fresh Prince when Will and Carlton end up stripping together at that rich-lady benefit and Aunt Viv walks in on it and she’s like, “PUT IT ON.”

FP, I want to say, saves the day by taking charge of the fallout: “Ha ha, great! EVERYTHING’S FINE! Put this on.”

Certified pedigree: OF COURSE. OF COURSE. OF COURSE. OF COURSE. OF COURSE FP IS GOING BACK TO THE SERPENTS. of course he does it with the most melodramatic speech possible. of course he does it by dismissing his own son, dismissing his family, dismissing parole, dismissing sobriety. of course he’s actually doing it to protect Jughead but of course doing do by actually destroying Jughead’s life in a different way

“Coyote Ugly” is pretty good

“I AM NOT GOING GENTLY INTO THE NIGHT!” FP, do you read Dylan Thomas?!

FP’S KISS OF DEATH. FP’S FREDO KISS. “YOU BROKE MY HEART, JUGHEAD.”

the shot he takes right to Jughead’s face is just mean

Jughead looks fucking stunned. can you be numb AND horrified? horrifumbed?

Veronica doesn’t have any deep-seated issues, for God’s sake! she isn’t in love with Archie right now! everyone take a breath!

Andre sat in the car during the whole party? I see a missed opportunity here

the hat’s off! HAT’S OFF

Jughead considers Archie gone, that he “cut bait,” a phrase I admit I have never heard before. Jughead is operating with the assumption that Archie has written him off and that Betty needs to do so as well, so it’s like the Archie-Jughead breakup, but sort of sideways

“I’M DRAGGING MY DAD DOWN.”

“You might get...you will probably get hurt.”

I did like the CLASSICALLY DRAMATIC wrenching Jughead back around by the arm and holding his face. IF YOU KIDS WOULD JUST SHUT UP AND HOLD EACH OTHER’S FACES. remember when sorcerer dementia-phantom Nana Rose scared you snooping in Jason Blossom’s bedroom??? innocent times!!!!!

I’m looking at this photograph of the Hangin’ Mob and I can’t tell who’s who, and it fills me with glee!

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: I’m not sure what Betty and Archie are supposed to be seeing in each other for the very first time, unless it’s that they scare their partners or something. can Betty and Archie Blue & Gold? maybe! Archie wasn’t great at holding the line against Betty when she was falling down the Black Hood rabbit hole, but he did recognize it when it was happening, PLUS he’s a huge handsome slab of boy meat! TIME TO STEP UP, ARCHIE

hey, is Jughead homeless again?

TOMORROW: WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?

[chocolatequeennk]

Dreaming of True Love’s Kiss

Yet another piece for my ficaversary. This time, we have an alternate scene from Once Upon a Dream, which was written for @perfectlyrose‘s birthday two years ago. 

AO3  FF.net  Teaspoon  Tumblr:  Ch 1  Ch 2 Ch 3

At one point, I planned to carry the Sleeping Beauty allegory into chapter 3 and have Rose trapped in limbo, asleep and yet completely aware of her surroundings. I changed my mind eventually because the deeper I got into that story, the harder it was to transition to reality. But when I was digging through my deleted bits files, I found this scene. With a few hundred words tacked onto the end, I quite like it.

The moment the thorn pierced her skin, Rose heard a whooshing in her ears. Suddenly, she was looking down at her own body.

Am I dead? she wondered frantically.

Rose hovered over her body for thirty minutes before she saw Jack coming toward the hedge, carrying a bird. The day’s delivery, she realised.

Jack released the bird as soon as he saw her body lying on the road. Hands free, he rushed forward, turned her over, and took her helmet off.

“Oh, Rosie,” he groaned when he saw her face. “The Doc is gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”

Her friend scooped her body up in his arms and carried her toward the castle. Rose followed at a close distance, anxious to see the Doctor’s face again.

Jack stormed into the castle and started shouting orders, sending servants scurrying for Sarah Jane and the Doctor. “Tell them I’m in the small salon and I need to see them right away.”

He shouldered the door open without putting Rose down. There was a long divan running against the wall under the window, and Jack laid her down on it carefully.

Rose watched with wide eyes as Sarah Jane and the Doctor entered the room a moment later. There were lines of strain around her friend’s eyes, but the small sign of stress was nothing compared to the Doctor.

His proud bearing looked stiff instead of regal, and his wonderful hair lay plastered to his head instead of spiked up the way he liked it. His suit was rumpled, as if he hadn’t changed it in days.

Rose tried to touch him, but her hand went right through him.

“What do you need, Jack?” he asked wearily.

“I found someone on the road,” Jack said quietly, pointing to the divan.

Rose saw the moment he realised the still form was her. “No,” he moaned as he dropped to his knees beside her. A shaking hand brushed the hair back from her forehead, and his voice was raw when he whispered her name.

But it’s not me! she wanted to cry out. I’m right here, can’t you see?

“For what it’s worth, Doc, she almost made it,” Jack said. “Like I said, she was on the road just this side of the hedge. I had to pry her suit free of a thorn… a branch must have tripped her as she stepped out.”

“It doesn’t matter how close she got,” the Doctor said angrily. “She’s still… she’s never…” He pressed his fist to his mouth and choked back a sob.

“What would you like to do, Your Highness?” Sarah Jane asked quietly. “We can’t leave Rose lying here in the salon.”

The Doctor closed his eyes and bowed his head for a long moment, and when he looked at her again, the remnant of hope that had been present in his brown eyes was gone. He slid his arms underneath her body and stood effortlessly, cradling Rose against his chest. She tried to nuzzle into his neck, but again, was unable to control her own body.

Sarah Jane, Jack, and Rose followed the Doctor up the grand staircase, then to the corner of the castle. Jack opened a narrow door, and they climbed a twisting staircase up to the highest point of the castle.

Rose fell in love with the room instantly. The rose stained glass window cast a pink glow on the bed, and the candles off to the side suffused the space with a warm light. It felt like… like she belonged here.

“I was going to give her this room,” the Doctor said as he laid her down on the bed. “I thought it could be her private retreat, when she needed to be alone.”

Those words made her ache with how much he knew her and loved her, and yearn to bring a smile back to his face by waking up. This couldn’t be the way their story ended. She cast about, trying to think of a way to break a sleeping enchantment, and the idea came to her just as Jack suggested it.

“You know, in all the stories, the princess is awakened by True Love’s Kiss.” Surprisingly for Jack, those words were uttered with absolute sincerity and not a hint of suggestive undertone.

Yes! Rose cried out, imagining she was pressing her hand to the Doctor’s cheek. Just kiss me.

But her prince shook his head. “True Love’s Kiss only works in fairy tales.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone, then straightened and walked out of the room, leaving Rose to her dreams.