#lionel always ruins everything

[raelis1]

#'why can't you see what's right in front of your face lex?' god. god. godddd.#I think there's a really interesting discussion to be had (with many potential viewpoints)#re: to what extent lex actually knew the truth either consciously or subconsciously at any particular time#and how much he was just in denial about it (and why)#I'm not really prepared to have that discussion in these tags but like#let's face it - lex figured out that clark had powers all the way back in 1x12#just because clark convinced him he was wrong at the time doesn't mean he just forgot that whole thing#and yet it seemed like the more seasons went on and the more obvious the truth became#especially the fact that clark was so heavily tied to all the alien weirdness of smallville#the more lex seemed to (subconsciously?) push back against accepting or recognizing that truth#I mean that's literally what he's doing in the 4x21 scene with jason#so it's like he both desperately wanted to know clark's secret but also didn't want to know at all#and that's just SO interesting#I mean jesus the 7x20 scene is supposed to be peak evil lex and yet he STILL has to be pushed into accepting the truth#and he does so with his eyes glistening because yeah he wanted to know clark's secret once upon a time but he never wanted THIS#(remember when lex told jonathan in s1 that he just wanted clark to have a happy normal life bc clark was such a good person?#and then he's told in 7x20 that to save the world he has to KILL clark and take that life away from him hahaha [crying] it's fine I'm FINE)#wow I really said 'I'm not prepared to have this discussion' and then just. proceeded to have it anyway huh. lmao oops (via @fairyroses)

He was about to kill you, Lex. Or divulge something you didn't want me to know.

— SMALLVILLE, "Forever" (4.21)

+ bonus from "Arctic" (7.20):

[spidybaby]

Stressed

Summary: When he's stressed and worried about work, that's the only thing on his mind.

Warnings: angst because I'm a sucker for it 😤

A/N: So I'm inspired, and you already know I love angst, I breathe angst, I eat angst. (Okay, I'm done exaggerating), but lemme know how you are? Are you drinking water? Hope you're fine 💐❤️

Since Kylian sent that letter to the higher-ups of PSG about not wanting to stay until 2025, everything is drama.

The french tabloids, for some reason, want him to look bad, want him to look like this ungrateful man.

He's experiencing too much pressure, Sergio leaving, Lionel leaving, possibly Verrati leaving. It was a mess. The whole teams is.

Especially now that this dumb reporter, her name is Sam, she's all over him about the whole side of him about the leaving, the selling, the quitting of Galtier. He's done with her, with the other reporters, with the ultras hating him for even breathing.

"Don't worry, Kyky, everything's going to be fine." Sergio pat his back, Kylian was one of the first ones to know about his retirement of the club. "Don't let that chick got to you."

"I just want her away from me." He drinks too fast for what he's used to. "Can't she cover something else?"

"Look, hermano." Ney says, he had to deal with the same reporter a few months before. "Just tell her something completely different from what she's asking, and she'll leave."

He knows she just wants to write something before anyone else, something that comes from his own, not for speculation. "Lie to her."

He scuff, it's not that easy to be away from her when she's also part of the PSG press people. She has access to everywhere. That makes him uncomfortable.

"Mira Kylian." Leo says. He's not new to this whole press drama. "Just don't mind her, ignore her, saying you have to be somewhere." He smiles, nodding to his advice.

Leo and Sergio are the ones he trusts with this media hate. They're goats, and they come from a long road. He can't deny that even Neymar is an expert. But he's been there for his own stupid mind, even tho he denied it.

He followed the advice Leo gave him, always ignoring her, saying the usual bonjour or a revoir. Nothing else.

That made her mad. She even asked Galtier for his number, not caring about writing him. That took him to the limit. He couldn't escape her. She was everywhere and anywhere at the same time.

"Don't stress, mon amour." You say kissing his cheek. You're massaging him, wanting to help him relax. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. It's only you and me."

You tried everything for him to relax, you didn't know the whole story. He never told you about this reporter. So you only think it's because of the whole letter drama.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

"Bonjour, Kylian." Sam says, looking at him. She's blocking the door of the lockers. "Can we talk." She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm busy." He tries to pass her, but she's not moving, and the last thing he wants is touching her or making any type of contact. "Please move."

"Just five minutes." She says, begging him. "And I'll leave you alone forever."

"I prefer you to leave me alone now." His voice is this deep tone. He's done with her games. "Get out of the way." He ask nicely.

"Four minutes." She begged again.

"Sam, out of the way."

"Three."

He breathes deeply, and he's losing his temper. "I'll say it only one more time, and believe me, that I hate repeating myself." He grabs her arm, not hard but the right amount of pressure to move her gently. "I'm busy." He's mad. His whole day is ruined, thanks to her.

He enters his car, asking the driver to take him home. He's supposed to go to his mother's house, but he's too mad for that.

He arrived home funding. His train bag is now on the floor, you're home early, and you notice the noise, thinking maybe he fell.

"Are you okay?" You ask from your bedroom. Maybe he's hurt. "Ky? Amour?" You talk louder this time.

After a few minutes, you hear the footsteps on the stairs. A very agitated Kylian enters the room. "Hi, handsome." You say, opening your arms to him.

"Remember how you said you can take the stress out of me?" He sais breathless, you nod smiling. "Do it."

You throw the covers away from you. Ready to attack your boyfriend with kisses and attention. Your lips feel heavy on his own. He's tense. You can feel him.

There was no other reason for his mind to be elsewhere, hes uncomfortable by the fact that he has Sam on the back of his head, tunning after him, basically harrassi him.

There's no other reason for him to focus on anything other than you. The way your lips feel on his neck, the way your hands are touching the right places, the way you're making him feel good.

His hips are moving to a very fast pace. He's not one to take his frustration on you, but the way you're moaning his name and how your nails are scratching his back is making him lose control.

He doesn't know how, but it happens. He can't take her name out of his mind, now even when you're taking him so well.

When he dips his hips at a certain angle, the back of your head digs further into the pillow, and he attacks the exposed side of your neck. He's leaving red marks, marking you as his. The groan that's escaping his lips are pornographyc.

You could feel nothing but him, the weight of his body over yours, the thin layer of sweat on his back under your fingertips and on his forehead, making the hair close to your neck to stick to it.

What's making the entire situation so much worse is the fact that no matter how much he tries, he can't stop thinking about her. Not in a sexual way, but angrily wanting her to go away, to leave his mind alone.

His hand is griping your waist so hard. He knows he'll leave a mark. Moans coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, you feel so good.” he goes faster, knowing by the sounds you're making that you're close.

"Sam-" that's when he stops. His whole body stop. He doesn't know why he's saying her name. His eyes are open in a panic.

"Get off," you say out of breath. Your heart is beating as fast as if it's going off your body. "Get off of me."

You push his shoulders for him to get off of you. He pulled out and tried to explain. "Y/n, please, I didn't mean to do that."

Your mind is lost, one moment you're under him, holding him closer, kissing him and enjoying him.

And now you're pushing him away, not wanting him to touch you. You grab the covers of the bed. You wrap it around your body before running to the bathroom.

"Amour, please." He tries to grab your arms. "Amour." He almost catch you, but he's not fast enough.

The next thing he knows is you slamming the door in his face. He can hear the way you're breathing and how you sob. The sound is making his heart hurt.

"I promise I wasn't-" he can't even think of an excuse. He's fucked up, he's hearing the way you're crying and can't think of how to solve it. "Listen, she's a reporter that has been harassing me. She's always on me, and I".

You open the door, interrupting his explanation. You're standing there, tears running down your face, blanket around your body, eyes sad.

"Mon amour." He doesn't know if he can touch you. He doesn't want to make you more uncomfortable than what you already are. "I promise it's not what you think."

You pass him, walking to the room to get your clothes, dressing yourself again, hurried to get away from him.

"Please don't go." He says, hand grabbing your arm. "Please, let me explain." He feels like crying, not wanting to let go.

"Not now." You get off his hold. "I can't do this. Please get away from me." You push him lightly.

"Don't go, I'll go, but you don't have to go." He dresses himself, not wanting you to leave. "I'm fucking sorry." Your back is facing him. You can't look at him in the eyes.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

The past week, you were running away from Kylian, leaving extra early for work and returning while he was still training.

For him, it was hard not being able to speak with you. But you needed time, and he's willing to let you have it. Even if that hurt him in the process.

For you, it's been weird. You can't wrap your mind around the fact of what's going on. For you, it hurts that he didn't trust you enough to talk to you about what's happening, and the other part of you is your ego being hurt by him naming another girls name.

You were sure with a talk and being honest, you both can make up. You trusted him when he says he has never been with her, but you also needed to know the whole story.

The sound of keys jiggling is the way you know he's home. When he walks he sees you sitting on the couch.

He's tired, everyone is hating on him for the stupid tabloids, and he can't even find comfort in your arms because he hurt you without intended to.

"Can we talk?" He swears the sound of your voice is magical. He missed it. He missed you. He nods and takes a seat next to you. "Who's Sam?"

He didn't hesitate to detail the whole thing. The things his playmates advised him. "Kylian, why didn't you report her to the management?" You're mad, not with him but with her for being such a bitch and harass him about a stupid football news.

"Because I thought she was going to leave me alone." He yells, frustrated. "I can't do this anymore."

You hug him, caressing his back and him cry his frustration. His not crying about her. He's crying about the news, about the hate, about the media not leaving him alone.

"I'm here, don't cry." You kiss the top of his head. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you before."

"It's not you, I'm the one who made the mistake of letting her abuse her power." He let you dry his tears. "I'm so done."

"It's not your fault. Don't say that." You kiss his cheeks. "You're fine now, I'm not letting her or anyone hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable." You hugged him. Promising you'll never let him feel that way again.

[hornyramostan]

After all this time?; Cristiano Ronaldo

Two years had passed since you last saw your best friend. He had left Portugal for Spain to expand his football career and join a team. You yourself recommended it to him after watching him play throughout his life trying so hard to go far, because you also trusted what he could do. You also recommended it to him, because you hadn't thought about all the time you weren't going to see him. You lied when you told him not to think so important and that you didn't miss him madly.

Cristiano and you have known each other for more than ten years and throughout your life you have been asked many times if you were a couple, you always denied it with a certain disgust, as if it was crazy, but deep down you knew that you would not dislike the idea of dating the attractive soccer player you had as a friend. Clearly you never confessed it to him because it could go very wrong and ruin your relationship, so in that time when Cris wasn't around, you tried to meet new people to distract your head, and, why not, find a part-time lover.

When you entered university you met a boy named Lionel who sat next to you. The both chatted a couple of times from the moment he went to class wearing a T-shirt from your favorite band "The Strokes" If there was something you liked in boys it was that they have good musical tastes, and this was the case with this boy. A few days ago the teacher had given the instructions for a work in pairs and you had no better idea than to do it together. Leo would go to your house that afternoon to meet, what you didn't know is that someone else had also planned to go to your house that afternoon, but as a surprise.

Half past three in the afternoon and the doorbell rang at your house. You finished accommodating the books and went to open the door. By the time you could see what was behind it, you had to hold on to the frame "Have you missed me darling?" There he was, your best friend was back. "CRISTIANO" You said as you detached yourself from the door to jump into his arms. You didn't remember hugging him so tight ever, you really missed him. "What the hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in Spain? "Well I missed my family and I also wanted to tell you that-" "Wait, let's go home because it looks like it's going to rain and I don't want you to catch a cold"

When the both entered you noticed that he had a confused face "Did something happen?" You asked curiously "Why is everything so arranged and why is there a snack for two prepared? Were you expecting someone else?" "Actually-" You were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell "Yes, I invited a friend to do some university work at home, I hope you don't mind" You told him as you reached the front door, which you opened with a huge smile,naccording to Cristiano, who had changed his expression from confused to furious.

"I brought yerba to drink mate, it's a very common drink in Argentina and I think you'll like it" "Awww leo thanks, now let's go inside because it's cold and raining" As soon as you closed the door you noticed the tension that existed among your guests, but you decided to ignore her "Well, let me introduce you, Cris this is Leo, a friend from uni and Leo this is Cris, a childhood friend" "BEST friend, you mean" the Portuguese plaintiff corrected. Both, Leo and you, looked at each other being complicit in a clear scene of jealousy "Well, let's get to work"

This is how the afternoon passed, Leo and you did what you had to do. You laughed and drank mate with biscuits while Cristiano watched the scene from affair, although they offered him several times to join the conversation, he just shook his head.

"Well, thanks for coming leo, I had a lot of fun, see you on Monday!" "I'm saying the same y/n, greetings to you and your friend!" Your coworker said as he walked out the door.

"May I know why you laughed so much with him?" The Portuguese blurted out "Because at least he spoke, not like others who sit with an ass face judging with their eyes, oh and I didn't like that little scene you did at the beginning Cristiano, nothing at all" "And how do you want me to react if MY best friend just replaces me as if nothing?" "SORRY? AS IF NOTHING? YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DIDN'T WRITE TO ME FOR TWO YEARS CRISTIANO, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU AND HOW MUCH IT HURTS ME TO SEE THAT YOU NEVER REMEMBERED ME" You were furious. Like nothing? He didn't know how much you missed him? "DO YOU THINK I HAD TIME TO WRITE YOU? I COULDN'T EVEN WRITE TO MY PARENTS" They were both silent "I missed you a lot too, more than you can imagine, I missed your hugs, your face, your voice, seeing your eyes, god I missed you so much y/n, and when I saw that another person arrived I was afraid, I was afraid because I thought I had lost my chance" "Your chance for what?" "From this" And before you could react, he grabbed you by the waist, attracting you to him and the both melted into a passionate kiss. You separated due to lack of air and once ecovered it, you kissed again. It was as if the both could finally demonstrate that desire that they had.

They separated and looked into each other's eyes, and the only thing they could say was "I love you".

[mik-mania]

hiiii question for mun/newest characters. how do you think condes, zander, and lionel describe themselves compared to how others("others" being like friends/acquaintances/colleagues) would?

BITING YOU AFFECTIONATELY....THANK YOU.......

i'll go ahead and say this first, condes and lionel dont really have..................................friends. due to the whole Condes Being A Militant Dictator thing. it kinda limits the friend pool.

Condes:

firstly, he sees himself as the best fucking thing since sliced bread. he's strong and powerful. he is above everyone else and makes sure they know it. his confidence is off the fucking charts.

he and Lionel have a..... complicated relationship. to where I wouldn't call them kismesises or matesprits, but Vacillates. cus. yknow. they vacillate a lot. i'll be honest, their relationship is toxic as hell! theyre so tangled up in each others messes that the two of them are a package deal. lionel would love to see condes killed, or even kill the man himself, but at the same time he wont ever let him die. he would let himself be killed to defend the guy. its a special sort of stockholm that's progressed past "poor Lionel" to "well, you didnt have to commit warcrimes about it."

zander..................hates condes' guts. she thinks hes a nasty piece of work and she can't believe that the two of them ever used to be on good terms (although it was a long, long time ago). she remembers when Avatakra wasnt war-torn planet filled with death and ruin, before condes went on his campaign to ruin their world. before he killed Dabria. now all she wants is his death.

condes has a pretty strong empire beneath him. i say empire, but it's more of a large totalitarian militia. while he has control of nearly half of the planet, it's a struggle for complete control between him and various other groups vying for power. other leaders find him despicable, powerful, and mendacious. those beneath him view him as terrifying. they may not like him, but he has witchery he can punish them with. no one is sure how to defeat him because nobody knows where he's gotten these powers from.

LIONEL:

lionel hates himself. deep, deep down, he despises himself and is the same scared kid he used to be. but that was long, long, long ago. he views himself as despicable and twisted. his senses have been all switched up by sweeps and sweeps of abuse to the point that pain and suffering are simultaneously gratifying to him. he's given up on the notion of being a good person. anyone who can write off their own humanity (trollmanity?) like that is a dangerous person, because they no longer have any limits to what they're willing to do. and he is willing to do whatever Condes wants.

Condes views him as a pathetic plaything. he has the urge to control everything the man does--he wants him all to himself. i feel like his desire to control and hurt and destroy lionel comes from their childhood attachment to each other. Condes used to be a sweet kid, believe it or not. they both used to be. but condes got into some dark, dark magic shit and it changed him. and he changed lionel. he sees lionel and he wants to kill him, but he cant quite make himself do it. it pisses him off that lionel is a living reminder of his past self. no matter how much he disfigures and remakes this man, the reminder will still always be there. and Condes hates it.

zander... doesn't feel much for lionel tbh. she used to feel bad for him. she's tried many, many times to help him escape. to bring him with her and save him. but you really cant help a person who doesnt want to be helped. she used to feel conflicted about him, watching as he only descended into being Condes' tool and weapon. conflicted that that used to be her friend, that he refuses to fight her, but wont join her either. then, she pitied him for a long time until it slowly fizzled into complete apathy. the man known as Lionel Farlow today is not the boy she once knew. and if that means eventually cutting him down in front of god and everybody, then so be it.

lionel isnt thought of much by his and condes' subordinates, nor is he a thought in the mind of other world leaders. those under him view him mostly with a mix of pity and disgust. to see such a pathetic violet blood be mistreated and slapped around by a small jade blood is something of an upset. lionel is effectively a traitor of the empress' empire at large and the entire social hierarchy that's been established for milennia before Avatakra's existence. but those on the planet lack any method of contact to reach out to the rest of the universe, let alone even leave the planet. so in lieu of any other sort of action, lionel receives the collective brunt of society's resentment.

ZANDER:

she doesn't think much of herself. in all honesty, she tries not to. she doesn't have much of a sense of self and feels that most of her died along with her childhood. introspection only reveals one thing to her: she wants things to change and she is willing to fight for it.

Condes hates her. she is yet another reminder of his past that just seemingly wont go away. while "her" forces (how he views them--zander is not part of an organization) are nowhere near as strong as his, she is a constant thorn in his fucking side. she's sneaky and she knows him well enough to get around any defenses he may set up. she's come close to killing him a handful of times and vice versa. she has a few nasty scars from the man and he remembers every single one of them proudly. if Condes ever takes her captive, he will take extreme satisfaction in her prolonged torture.

Lionel... feels guilty when he thinks about zander. so he tries not to think about her very often. when it's come right down to making the decision whether or not to kill her--he has decided against it, every single time. which is saying something, considering how often he's had the advantage over her. he cares about her in a nostalgic way, wishing that things could go back to how they used to be. but he's already chosen where his heart resides and there is no going back, regardless of how zander tries to convince him. the least he can do is refuse to kill or capture her--even if it earns him severe punishment from condes every time.

zander lives covertly in a small community just outside of Condes' territory. the community is mostly like-minded rebels such as her; trolls who have no loyalty to any of the rising powers in the world and only wish for freedom. they're brought together by the radical ideals of abolishing the social hierarchy, seeking to live in equality all together. condes is not the only power they rebuke, but he is the largest and the closest.

despite their ideologies, most of trolls in the community aren't active members. most people there only wish to live their lives, living off the land and depending on each other. zander has good standing in the community, being known as somewhat of a loner that lives a bit farther from the town. she spends her time building relationships with the trolls there, helping with development of the settlement. it's a fulfilling day-job and she earns companionship and food in return.

although she knows the handful of folks in town that actively rebel, she refuses to work with them. their rebellion is very small-time, targeted toward wandering foot-soldiers and hostile threats. zander refuses to involve them in anything more dangerous, as it would lead not only to their deaths, but most likely the whole community. she intentionally has no deep relationships with any of the townsfolk because when the day finally comes that she disappears for good, she doesnt want anybody to come looking for her.

[aparticularbandit]

IDK how you’d feel about this for the physical affection prompts but…7, 9, 15 (feel free to choose one or mutiple) for Lionel and Claire (Post-movie. Platonically? Romantically? Something in-between?)?

physical affection prompts! 7) squishing their cheeks 9) wiping away someone’s tears 15) the biggest, warmest hugs

I combined them all into one longer thing, so I hope that's okay! Sorry it took so long for me to finish!

It has been the most harrowing three days of Claire’s life.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.  Claire has had a lot of singularly harrowing days, and while she wants to say these particular three are the most harrowing she’s ever had in sequence, that’s not really true either.  The trial was.  She couldn’t numb out the trial.  She couldn’t numb out—

     Look me in the eye, Claire!

Claire shivers, rubs one of her arms, and turns away from the window.

Devon hasn’t been able to join them in Greece because the kids haven’t been able to join them in Greece.  They’d decided this together; an international murder investigation didn’t seem like something Rowena or Mark should be involved with.  Besides, they were perfectly happy to stay cozied up at the house, perfectly happy to see their mom in Zoom meetings when they happen to all be awake at the same time (the eight hour time difference is horrible, but they can get around it if they try hard enough).  She’d needed to see them, after.  Needed to see their smiling, happy, enthusiastic faces.

Helen still thought they were all shitheads, but she’d…oddly warmed when she caught Claire with her kids.  She had, of course, assured her that she still didn’t like Claire one bit and insisted that it was just the kids she liked, but that was fine.  Is fine.  Claire hasn’t – isn’t – trying to patch things up with Helen.  She doesn’t deserve her forgiveness and won’t try to get it.

     If we’d only gotten there earlier, she thinks to herself sometimes.  If I’d only let Duke pound the door in.  If we hadn’t—

But regrets and wishing couldn’t bring Andi back.

Regrets and wishing couldn’t—

Claire and Lionel don’t share a room.

For a lot of reasons, really, one of which being that it doesn’t matter exactly how open her marriage with Devon is, they still need to keep some protocol.  They’re all under investigation, even with the truth coming to light, because that’s how these sorts of things work, especially with Miles’s team of lawyers, none of whom any of them can use now like they had during Andi’s—

     She’d just needed oxygen—

But they can’t forbid them from going to see each other.

Sometimes, the three of them who are left – and Peg, of course, because Peg should always have been included with them, even when Miles pretended she shouldn’t, and Whiskey, too, who was turning out to be much better of a woman than Claire had assumed based on how Duke treated her, which really just reminded her that she shouldn’t assume anything about anyone and maybe if she hadn’t—

     Which really just goes down the regrets and wishing train again—

They gather around the hotel pool sometimes.  They don’t go swimming, probably because they all think of the last time they were swimming, when Duke had been so blatant about something and they’d all just missed it, but they stand and stare at the pool and then sometimes go back to one of their rooms for drinks, except that it’s hard to drink now because all of their favorite drinks have been ruined by that last party, by what Miles had used Duke’s drink to do, by…by everything—

     Maybe, if they’d gotten there earlier, if they hadn’t turned on Andi, maybe they would still all be there—

Birdie and Peg share a room.  Whiskey spends a lot of time with them.  Spends a lot of time with Peg, spends a lot of time with Helen.

     She hadn’t thought Andi could actually die.

They have a community room they all share sometimes.  It’s less sharing and more they’re all there at the same time.  Every now and again, Claire thinks she should go talk to Helen, but every time she gets that thought Benoit is there, and she just…doesn’t.  That’s not the worst thing (although Birdie would say it was, Duke would say it was, in that aggravating streamer way of knocking the actual worst thing for something lesser as a sort of joke (and she tries not to think about how he will never, never, never be able to do that again)), but she’d spent so long following Benoit’s cases – particularly after he’d gotten married to Phillip (that, too, had made the news, and she’d thrilled because he was, he was like her, and she’d thought he was and Devon wouldn’t fucking believe her, he was like them) – that she’d built him up as someone who would understand her, who would look at her and know and say, “Guhvanuh Debella, you are uhn uhmazing womuhn,” in that wonderful southern accent of his, and to be honest, he probably does know, given how easily he’d read that shitty murder mystery game Miles set up, given how he’d figured out everything Miles was doing when none of them had even—

She wants to talk to Helen, not to apologize, but just to…to talk.

But Helen terrifies her.

Benoit does even more, the way he sits next to her like the cutest little Pomeranian guard dog with ascot (a different color every day because he’d planned for this, hadn’t he, while the rest of them were still trying to figure out how to get everything clean.  Claire is able to use the hotel’s washer because she has children and everything she has needs to be able to go straight into the washer without worry because Devon isn’t going to pay attention and neither are the children, but Birdie….  Birdie’s just sending someone out to buy her new clothes every day.  It’s going to get old.  She’s going to run out of money.  They’ll be gone before that happens).  His eyes always seem kinder when he notices Claire, but part of her is convinced that’s just a lie.  Once, out of the corner of her eye, she catches him keeping an eye on her chess game with Lionel.  She bites her lower lip and stares at the board and thinks maybe – maybe – she will impress him.

It is the only time Benoit places a hand on her shoulder, and Claire freezes, expecting him to offer a word of advice or the potential next best move.  Instead, he says, in that adorable accent of his, “If you really want to challenge your mind, you should play Go.”

Claire flinches, freezes, unable to speak, but Lionel looks up, leans on his hand where his elbow rests on the table, and asks, “Do you have a board handy?  We haven’t been able to play in months.”

“Why don’t you ask your benefactor—”

Helen’s voice, then, cutting through their idle conversation, and Claire’s phone vibrates with the call from Devon that led to speaking with her children, that led to Helen peeking in and meeting them.

(Andi’s sister might hate all of them, but she loves children, and like Lionel, she peeks in every now and again and, crossing her arms, barks out a correction when Claire teaches them something wrong.  It’s a small thing, but it’s…but it’s something, maybe.)

Three days of feeling sick and horrible and the worst of the world only made worse because she is the worst of the world, isn’t she, aren’t they all, because if they hadn’t—

     Andi could still be—

And Claire finds herself alone in Lionel’s room.  It isn’t that she’d gone there alone; Birdie had been there, too, briefly, because Peg invited Whiskey to their room, and she hadn’t been particularly comfortable with all of that.  But she’d barely been with them ten minutes before heaving a huge, disappointed sigh and storming out of the room, leaving them both there, alone, while she stomped back to her room.  Lionel stared at her through the window, let out a huff of a laugh, and let the curtains slide shut again as he turned back, “Looks like someone doesn’t like to share—”

But it’s the weight of it all, crushing into Claire’s chest, and suddenly she can’t breathe.  Tears prick at the corners of her eyes.  She sits down hard on the edge of Lionel’s mattress, unable to look at him, unable to look out the window, unable to look at the shitty hotel artwork that’s hanging on either side of the flat-screen tv because every time she does, she just thinks about the stupid college poster Mona Lisa that Miles hadn’t had in his fucked up Glass Onion, unable to look at anything, really, and so she looks down at her thighs where they’re brushed together because her hands are clenching the mattress on either side of her.

“Claire, Claire, hey—”

It’s only a second, and Lionel is crouching in front of her with those knees that he always complains really can’t do this anymore (and yet always, always he still kneels before her), one hand reaching up to gently wipe away her tears with the soft pad of his right thumb.  “It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay, Lionel; she’s dead.”

Claire can’t help the way that she spits it out – she shouldn’t be spitting it out at him because Lionel certainly doesn’t deserve her vitriol – Miles does, but she couldn’t spit at him the way that she can spit now – and, really, she isn’t mad at Lionel, she’s mad at herself.  “She’s dead, and Helen was right – we killed her.”

“No,” Lionel counters, voice as gentle as he can make it.  “No, Claire.  We didn’t kill any—”

“We killed her when lied for Miles over—”

“Miles killed Andi, Claire.”  Lionel’s hands move to her knees, and he gives them a gentle squeeze.  “We couldn’t have known that he would—”

Claire pushes herself off of the bed, away from Lionel’s touch, and starts to pace, arms crossed.  “He wouldn’t have even known that she’d found it if you hadn’t—”

Lionel’s face contorts.  “Now, Claire, be reasonable.  None of us could have guessed that—”

“We shouldn’t have had to guess!” Claire hisses out, turning back to him, arms spread wide, tears streaming down her face.  “We should have stuck with—”

     Look me in the eye, Claire!

The words lump in her throat, choking her, and Claire can’t get them out.  She wraps her arms around herself, and her gaze drops, head lowering.  She feels like a child again, only when she was a child everyone loved her because they didn’t know who wrong she felt in her own skin.  How wrong she feels now, but for an entirely different reason.

Lionel crosses the distance between them again and brushes her tears back with both thumbs at once.  “It’s okay to be mad, Claire,” he says as soothingly as he can.  “It’s okay to try and think of things we could have done, but we didn’t know, Claire.  We were trying to—”

“—to save ourselves,” Claire finishes for him, and she rubs at her tears with the back of one hand.  “It’s exactly like Helen said.  We’re all shits.  All of us.”

“I think the term is shitheads—”

Claire punches Lionel’s shoulder.  Then she leans forward, rests her forehead on his shoulder.  “We fucked up.”

“Then we need to do our best to make it better.”  Lionel shifts again, lifts Claire’s head, squeezes her cheeks.  “You’re allowed to be cute while we try to save the world, Claire.”

“We’re not saving anything, Lionel,” Claire says, although with her cheeks squeezed like they are, her words sound muffled, wrong, and she laughs at the sound before pulling herself away.  “We’re just saving ourselves.”

Lionel offers her the gentlest of smiles.  “Sometimes saving the world starts with saving ourselves.”  He reaches forward and boops her nose with the tip of one finger.  “So we stood up to Miles too late.  We learn.  We do better next time.  And maybe nobody dies.”

“Nobody should have died this time—”

But before she can finish, Lionel wraps his arms around her.  He always was good at giving hugs, and this time is no different.  She crumples in his embrace, buries her head against his chest, and lets herself cry – glad that he apparently brought trashy clothes with him so that when she gets snot all over his shirt, it won’t be a problem.  He strokes her hair gently, and when she’s finished enough, she murmurs into his chest, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lionel doesn’t ask her to stay with him because with the police and journalists who are likely to be swarming the place and waiting for something like that, she can’t risk the further blow to her reputation.  But she stays for as long as she believes she is reasonably able, curled up against him, letting herself rest.

[cobrakatharsis]

johnny lost his childhood stuffed toy when he was twelve.

it was a lion plush his mother had bought for him, some time soon after he was born. when he was very young, she’d said it was because he’d had this little wild tuft of baby blond hair, like a lion’s mane, and in part too it had reminded her of his father’s hair. wild and golden. so, a lion. his name was lionel, at first - his mother had named him, but johnny as he learnt to talk couldn’t quite pronounce the name, so it was “ryan” then, based off of his slurred pronunciation.

lionel-ryan was his best friend. his only friend, really. a classic comfort item, held tight throughout every argument he heard, sometimes through the walls and sometimes right in front of him. cuddled through everything he shouldn’t have witnessed, and all the money troubles, and all of his mother’s nights spent drunk and crying, and his father leaving, and moving to a strange new place with a man johnny didn’t like and who didn’t particularly like johnny either.

after the first time sid broke one of johnny’s toys - tore apart an action figure he’d tripped over after johnny had left it on the floor - he learnt to keep lionel-ryan hidden away in his bedroom.

sid still knew, though. and when johnny brought forth his argument, age twelve, to start taking karate lessons - join cobra kai - sid looked hard at johnny. “if you’re grown up enough for karate,” he’d said, “then you’re far too grown up for stuffed toys. don’t you think?”

and he’d made johnny go and get lionel-ryan, pulling him out from where he’d been tucked carefully into johnny’s neatly-made bed. he’d told johnny that he could take karate in exchange for proving he was mature enough for it, proving this wasn’t another passing interest of a child, proving that johnny was grown up now, and the way to do that was by giving up his silly ugly bear.

(sid always called lionel-ryan a bear. johnny learnt to stop correcting him.)

johnny had thought about kreese, about what he wanted from johnny and what johnny wanted from himself too, and he’d agreed. and though he’d cried as sid tossed the stuffed animal into the fireplace and lit it like kindling, made johnny stand there and watch the fur burn until there was nothing recognisable left, he’d let johnny join cobra kai.

like most things about johnny’s life, daniel learns this far too late. it’s one of their late night conversations, when it’s dark and they’re curled together in bed and johnny can close his eyes and stomach his vulnerability solely by pretending he’s not really speaking the words out loud, and like most things about johnny’s life it makes daniel nauseous. nauseous and blindingly angry, imagining johnny as a helpless child, crying as his comfort item is burned.

(he suddenly understands why johnny doesn’t like fireplaces.)

he wants to ask, the next day and then again a few days later, for more details about what exactly the plushie had looked like, what brand it had been, but decides that that might ruin it - if he asks johnny. but there’s nobody else to ask (and god, that thought makes daniel nauseous again) so he goes in blind.

the lion he gets from the toy store is a distinctly modern stuffed animal, with baby-safe eyes and a mane of wild fur and a smile on his little cartoonish face. nothing like the one johnny would have had, but daniel hopes it’ll be better this way. he’s not trying to replace anything, just honour it, and he thinks maybe he made the right decision when johnny comes home and sees it on the kitchen island and bursts immediately into tears.

he cradles the lion in his arms and sobs into its mane. he keeps crying, crying hard, even when daniel rounds the island and takes johnny into his arm, the plush toy held between them, and daniel soothes him but doesn’t try to make him stop. he lets johnny cry for as long as he needs to, for his child self and everything he lost in those years, everything that people took from him.

and a little while later, when johnny’s all cried out and still holding the lion plush tight in his arms, daniel gets out his phone and - at johnny’s behest - types “badass names for a lion stuffie” into safari.

[thevindicativevordan]

Hey Ive been reading your stuff, and first of all loving it, I'm a massive Supes fan and i agree with a lot of your takes. Wanted to ask you, DC tend to give Lex Luthor a complicated backstory of either him growing poor and bulding himself from the ground up (Byrne) or him growing rich and having an abusive dad (Smallville) What do you think is the better option for Lex

Blending the two the way they've merged Byrne's billionaire mogul and Pre-Crisis mad scientist Lex is the best option. Make it so the Luthors were rich, but that Lionel caused them to fall from grace for various reasons, forcing them to leave Metropolis and move to their last remaining relic of their lost wealth: the mansion in Smallville. Lex is the one who ultimately puts them back on top, restoring the prestige of the family name and fortune. That way you get Lex always believing he was supposed to have more growing up, and that knowledge feeding his entitlement and superiority complex. He could've grown up in the lap of luxury, but his dad had to go and ruin everything. But hey, he's not a privileged trust fund baby like Wayne or Queen either, he "earned" his wealth through hard (if not honest) work.

Then you get both the old money arrogance and the new money god complex in Lex. That makes him a great way to talk about the nature of billionaires, both those who inherited their wealth, and the "self-made" ones.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

Supercorp - 49 please

Jess has been with her ever since the beginning of time. It might sound like an exaggeration but it really isn't.

Jess was already assigned with her ever since she was the Junior VP of LuthorCorp's Research division back when Lionel was still alive.

And when Lex inevitably drove the whole company into ruin and forced Lena into the limelight as CEO, Jess remained by her side.

So, really, Lena couldn't refuse Jess's resignation letter when it came, finally telling Lena that she wants to expand her horizons. Lena was beyond happy to hear that Jess was interested in going to grad school and finishing her Master's that's been put on hold. At the same time though, she also doesn't know how to let her go. It might sound a little selfish to keep Jess all to herself, but Lena's sure she's going to die the moment, Jess leaves her office.

But of course, Lena let her go, with a hefty final pay and a promise that Jess always has a place with L-Corp.

So truthfully, she doesn't have a problem with Jess leaving, what she does have a problem with, though, is Jess's replacement.

Jess made sure to choose the best of the best from L-Corp's array of eager interns.

Which means Lena has to work with the smartest, kindest, most fucking beautiful intern to ever grace her office.

How inconvenient.

"I'm her boss," she snipes at Sam, for the nth time that night. It's been 6 months of this. Of Kara coming into her office and making Lena's shitty day, less shitty. Of Kara being the most caring person in Lena's life. Of Kara somehow making Lena eat three full meals a day and getting her to sleep on time. Of Kara making her fall and fall, deeper and deeper.

Of Lena trying hard to suppress every little feeling she has when it comes to Kara by whining about it to her friends.

It's been 6 months of this and now it's Christmas and Kara is looking more and more tempting as the evening passes.

"Right, because that hasn't happened before." Sam rolls her eyes. "I haven't seen you look at another woman this way ever, Lena."

"Again," Lena stresses. "I'm her boss. As in, she works for me. She answers calls for me and she arranged this goddamn Christmas party."

"Then fire her," Andrea deadpans, taking a sip from her champagne flute, arm casually wrapped around Sam.

"Mm. I second that idea." Of course, they're ganging up on her. That's their favorite past time--making Lena's love life a source of entertainment.

"Remind me why I'm even talking to the both of you?"

"Because, you've fallen in love for the first time in your life and you don't know what to do because you're emotionally constipated due to family issues and it's Christmas and Kara's standing right there and I'm pretty sure you want to pull her under the mistletoe and we're the only ones who can help," Sam impressively lets out all in one breath.

"I hate you."

"We love you too, Lena," Andrea automatically responds. "Now, go tell Kara she's now unemployed because you want to rail her for the rest of the night."

"You can do it, sweetie. We believe in you." Sam raises her glass in solidarity.

"The both of you should be ashamed of yourselves." Lena glares at the both of them. "Christ, railing..." she murmurs under her breath at the same time she looks up from her drink and into Kara's eyes across the ballroom floor. Kara gives her a small wave, picks up her champagne float as if to toast, Lena raises her drink in turn.

Kara smiles. Lena flushes.

She's going to blame it on the alcohol when Andrea starts to ask.

Kara is on the other side of the ballroom floor, chatting up one of Lena's tech and bioinformatics staff, Wilfred? Winslow?

Whatever his name is, but Kara doesn't seem to be paying any attention, Lena keeps catching her looking at where she is every 5 seconds.

"Lena, for the love of God, stop with the eye-fucking already. If you aren't going to woman up, I'm gonna get Kara over here myself."

Lena knows Sam isn't kidding with her threat. Sam raises her brow in that 'Well, what are you going to do about it?' way that she always does.

"Fire her and get it over with. I heard Cat Grant is hiring."

"Oh my god, you two! Stop it already, I am not going to fire her, and I am not going to break moral code and for the love of God, I DON'T WANT TO RAIL KARA DANVERS, OKAY?!"

She breathes in deep, her heart pounding from her little outburst. Sam's eyes is twice in size and Andrea's lips bitten in an attempt to hold everything in, her left brow twitching.

"What?" Lena grits. "Why are you looking at me like-"

"Ms. Luthor." Somebody taps her on the shoulder and Lena is confronted with the reason why her friends are completely silent all of a sudden.

"Kara," she whispers in horror.

"Uhm." Kara fidgets with the her dress. "I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time? I want to talk with you about something."

Lena clenches and unclenches her fist and tries to rein it in. Fuck, did Kara hear?

"Is it urgent?"

"Uhm yes, sort of," Kara mumbles. And then more nervously, "I promise, it'll be quick!"

"Alright," Lena acquiesces, heart running a mile a minute. She follows Kara and doesn't dare glance back at Sam and Andrea. She doesn't really want to hear what they have to say about the whole turn of events.

Kara leads them out into the empty balcony, National City gleaming brighter than ever before them.

The jazz notes of the holiday serenade from the ballroom fades out and becomes replaced with the soft quiet of the falling snow instead.

"What did you want to talk about, Kara?" Lena dares to ask, goosebumps running along her arm at the cold.

"I, uhm promise me you won't be angry after I tell you?" Kara says, almost a whisper, a plea.

What could be so bad that Kara looks so afraid at the moment?

"I promise, Kara." The words waiting on the tip of her tongue. Eager to give Kara whatever she needs.

"Okay, okay here it goes, okay," Kara mutters under her breath, hands wringing nervously, clearly itching to fiddle with her glasses.

"I want to leave L-Corp."

Lena's heart plummets.

"What?"

Kara steps forward, looks down at the ground and then back to her.

"I- I want to resign. I want to leave L-Corp. I've been thinking about it for a few months now, and I've finally made up my mind. I wanted you to know in advance. I'll be passing a formal letter to HR in January."

Kara's eyes are so blue under the moonlight and her words are chasing each other around in Lena's head. Kara wants to leave. Kara has been thinking about leaving for months.

And here Lena was, expecting her to stick around for forever.

"Why? I thought you were happy at L-Corp? What could possibly be the reason for you to want to leave?"

I thought you were happy with me?

Lena can't help it, the question comes out of her lips without her permission and she can't take it back.

She thought Kara was happy spending time with her, working with her.

But what Kara says next turns Lena's entire world upside down in a heartbeat.

"You," Kara answers.

Everything slows. Time stops and all Lena can see is Kara and only Kara.

"I want to leave. I need to leave. Because of you, Lena. I'm in love with you, Lena."

Lena's first thought is, Fucking hell Andrea and Sam are gonna insufferable after this. Her second being, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WI-

"I'm in love with you. And I think you feel something for me too," Kara utters softly.

"And, I also know how much you value L-Corp and how everybody perceives you and I don't want to start something between us, if it would cost you more than it would cost me," Kara tells her reverently, finally closing the gap and taking Lena's shaking hands into hers.

"Oh, God, Kara, I love you too. God, this is crazy, I love you too. I'm so in love with you."

Lena doesn't even feel the cold, all she feels is this crazy, dizzying rush of happiness at finally being able to say what she's been feeling. And to hear it said back to her.

God, is this what it feels like?

Kara is smiling so wide and it takes a moment for Lena to realize that she is, too. She's smiling so hard her cheeks are hurting.

"I really want to kiss you now."

"I really want you to kiss me now, too, Ka-"

She doesn't even get to finish.

Kara presses their lips together and Lena tastes the cinnamon of Kara's lip gloss, because of course, she's the kind of girl who would wear cinnamon chapstick for Christmas.

They're both smiling too hard to kiss properly for the first time.

Lena breaks away for a moment, only to kiss her again for the second time. This time, deeper, more passionate. 6 months of pent-up emotions and want and love.

"To be clear, you love me, you're not going to fire me and you don't want to rail me??"

"I am never going to let Andrea and Sam near you ever again."

prompts list here

[nunesbytko]

Netflix- Dahmer- Monster- The Jeff Dahmer Story- Episode Eight- “LIONEL”

Episode Eight-  Lionel

------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Trigger warning [Suicide mention]

  Back to Lionel crying at the station.

  He asks to see his son, they permit it.

  Jeff apologises, his dad as you can imagine is in bits. He tells him that he needs help. He believes his son can get better.

  Lionels trying to pick his brain, asking him why. He doesn't know.

  Jeff tries to tell him about the roadkill and Lionel gets triggered and completely takes it the wrong way. He's clearly blaming himself.

  Joyce Jeff's mother is getting hounded by the press.

  She's working with LGBT men, introduces herself as "Joyce Flint" gets emotional at work.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Lionel can't sleep. He hasn't slept in 5 days. He's blaming Joyce for all the pills that ruined Jeff. He's raging, blaming Joyce for everything. Shari comforts him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

The police have closed off Jeff's Grandma's house. She has dementia now and Lionel has to go to help her. Police and press are outside and inside.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Reverend Jackson does a march of solidarity with the victims families.

The Reverend is preaching the truth. But I used he's being coached by the police as well? He knows how to get a crowd going.

  The Konerack cops, Balzerack and Gabrish are both put on paid leave. They complain and say they are going to fight this [ Really, they should have been FIRED, FIRED, but hey what do I know?]

  Victims are going on TV,

  A blacked out guest makes an accusation that Jeff was abused by Lionel.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Lionel meets up with Jeff and his lawyer to try to convince Jeff to put through an insanity plea. Jeff said that he knew what he was doing, that he wasn't crazy. But his dad pushes for this change, telling him about the Ed Gein case. He's already read about Gein in a comic book.

  Lionel is blaming comic book culture now

  The Judge turns down the insanity plea.

  Outside of the courtroom Joyce and Lionel have a shouting match.,

  Joyce goes to the Grandmother of one of his victims [Curtis Straughter] to ask them to put in a good word for Jeff???

  Whaaaaaatttttt???????

----------------------------------------------------------------

Victims impact statement are read out.

  I feel for Glenda

Lionel meets Jeff and breaks down finally blaming himself in part for what happened.

  Joyce tries to kill herself.

  Lionel gets the news, but he's not too bothered. But he'll call David soon. but right now he's busy typing his book on everything he's been going through.

  The Konerack officers get re promoted and repaid.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Notes

Acting off the charts as usual

  Joyce is Self centred AF!!! How dare she go to the families  of the victims!!!!

Even in jail, Lionel doesn't really listen to Jeff

The Konerack police officers getting reinstated did make me sick! This did happen in real life. These officers ruined lives and nothing really happens. They get their jobs back. BACKPAY. They just go back to the force like nothing has happened. They should have been BANNED AND I mean BANNED from any type of umbrella term  Law work.

  It's just so disturbing to me!

  As always Richard Jenkins makes me cry lol. This actor is frigging amazeballs. Every scene!!!

My favourite scenes.........

[tibby]

definitive ranking of all of the trr gang’s parents:

godfrey: sucks for a lot of reasons but he committed the worst crime imaginable: being from england. 0/10.

king kyle maclachlan: yeah yeah his name is constantine but looking like kyle maclachlan is his only redeeming quality so. lame, royal, didn’t care about his kids, slutshamed mc, died the cringe and fail death of being crushed by falling rubble. 0.5/10.

regina: is this old bat still alive? genuine question. 1/10.

lorelai lee: fuck you for how you treat(ed) hana. 1.5/10.

mc’s mystery parents: either dead or just don’t care that their daughter moved to a foreign country, got married, had several attempts made on her life, had a kid, became a duchess and possibly a queen, had a movie made about her, and obtained several fancy hats. if it’s the latter then they have the potential to be the funniest characters of all time but if it’s the former that’s just boring. 2/10.

barthelemy beaumont: as a person with morals and a bertrand stannie, i give him a 0/10. however, as a lover of chaos and comedy, i have to give credit where credit is due and award a full 10/10. he committed regicide, pretended to be in a coma for two decades so he could do evil schemes instead of raising his kids, bankrupted his family on said schemes and then claimed it was because he kept trying miracle cures, decided to come back onto the scene by crashing his son’s rehearsal dinner and announcing that he was cured, blackmailed and kidnapped various royals so he could obtain custody of mc’s child, and his weakness is crows. say what you will about the guy but he’s committed to the bit. overall i think that’s like, a 2.5 or something.

emmeline ebrim: was fun until it turned out she was part of the evil cult and therefore everything she did in the past few books made her fake as hell. still a milf though. 3/10.

lionel nevrakis: shitty dad and can’t even do a successful coup, but i respect the feminism of taking his wife’s name. also i really like his scar. 3.5/10.

milf adelaide: objectively too high in this ranking given that she gave madeleine about fifty complexes and betrayed you several times, but she was the first milf in the series and she’ll always have a special place in my heart for that. nothing like an older woman who just wants to party. 3.8/10.

camellia nevrakis: shitty mother but sexy as hell and hated king kyle maclachlan. credit where credit is due. 4/10.

xinghai lee: the whole “unconditionally supporting his wife” thing would be nice if it was for anything other than allowing her to mistreat hana. 4.2/10.

landon ebrim: absolutely useless in every situation and kind of two faced but he doesn’t seem to be actively evil. mostly he’s just dumber than a sack of bricks. a solid 5/10.

annabelle beaumont: dead and hasn’t appeared in any flashback scenes so it’s hard to know, but maxwell used to be a mama’s boy which is good enough for me. 5.5/10.

bianca walker: much like her daughter, she’s really fucking boring, but she seems nice enough and apparently makes good coffee. also i know that she had “”fallen out of favour”” and it was their choice to stay in cordonia but ditching her children in a foreign country not long after their dad died is kind of a low blow. however it’s also pretty funny. 6/10.

hakim theron: loses points for being friends with king kyle maclachlan for years and not supporting ezekiel’s vet dreams, but overall a nice man who cares about his kids. also one of the few parents in this series who hasn’t tried to ruin mc’s life. 7/10.

drake’s dead dad: all the flashback scenes suggest that jackson was a cool guy, even if i don’t support his choice in career. bonus points for his untimely death kicking off the comedy of errors that is drake’s life. nice ass, sorry you died protecting nobility. 8/10.

queen eleanor: we only get her in flashbacks but she has yet to disappoint. cared for her son but also his ragtag group of besties, something her cringefail husband couldn’t do. will be heartbroken if we find out that she was up to evil shenanigans in the royal finale. kind of shitty that it took a bunch of idiots stumbling onto things for someone to solve her murder but cordonia isn’t known for being competent. the secret daughter thing was kind of wild and i sort of hope we never get any context for it. hope she found a better spouse in the afterlife. 9/10.

joelle theron: loves her children equally, loyal to mc and everyone in the cordonian crew, doesn’t appear to be part of any secret groups and didn’t play a role in any fail coups, cares more about art than she does boring royal stuff, total milf. would hang up one of her paintings on my wall. 10/10.

[ladystrallan]

Most memorable fanfic scene! Monty looking between Phoebe and Sibella at the masquerade ball 😍

I love this one! This fic was a collab with ComingandGoingByBubble (@sibella-mysibella). I loved writing this part :) Thanks for sharing!

“Lionel always ruined everything.

Monty suggested him and Phoebe go watch the dancing after she expressed disinterest in participating herself. Phoebe wasn’t one for dancing. They set off arm in arm in the direction the Hollands had left in.

A small woodwind and strings orchestra commenced a waltz, and the various society couples began their dance.

Monty immediately spotted Sibella, hand and waist gripped by Lionel. Despite how graceful she looked from here, she undoubtedly was having her toes stepped on.

The sight brought Monty back to the time Sibella had brought Monty to her cotillion in her debutante days. It was a happy memory, despite the odd looks they had gotten from the other girls and their dates, wondering why Sibella had taken the son of the disgraced D'ysquith daughter and a penniless musician.

He tried not to cringe as he watched them, but the sight of another man holding his Sibella like that made his blood boil. His Sibella. After fights, and trysts, and marriages, and murder trials she was still his Sibella.

It was even worse that her husband was Lionel. Lionel who so obviously didn’t deserve her. Then again, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. It almost didn’t matter who she had married, he would love her the same nonetheless. And hate the man who stole his chance of marrying Sibella Hallward. Monty wasn’t sure he could ever deem any man worthy of his first love. He almost couldn’t bear the jealousy he felt when he heard her referred to as ‘Mrs Holland’.

He looked at her face; her eyes glazed over, and her lips curved in a performative smile.

Phoebe leaned over to him. “Marvelous, isn’t it?” Surely she had noticed his enthrallment in the waltz.

“Beautiful,” Monty replied. His eyes were still fixed on Sibella’s charming eyes, her delicate frame, her mischievous demeanor.

His focus on Sibella broke and he looked over at Phoebe. Heavens, did she look exquisite tonight. Their costumes had been her idea; and what a wonderful idea they were. He imagined Phoebe portraying Ophelia in some sort of London production of Hamlet. No doubt she would be a better actress than the late Lady Salome.

He smiled at her softly, watching her eyes glitter as they observed the festivities. How he adored her. Her kindness never failed to warm his heart in times of trouble.

He looked back at the clumsy sight of Lionel trying to waltz with Sibella.

Monty noticed how incredibly fitting Sibella’s costume was. She was a rose. Beautiful, yes, but accompanied by pointed thorns. He knew she meant no harm with her harsh words and cold attitudes; she only wanted to protect her heart. Phoebe was a daisy. Innocent and genuine, and softer than Sibella. Phoebe wore her heart on her sleeves rather plainly. Some would deem her as weak, hysterical; but Monty knew she had strength in her own right.

Monty could hardly see a flaw in Phoebe D'ysquith, whereas he could detect every minute flaw in Sibella Hallward. And every fault, every deceitful lie, every vain insecurity, every imperfection made him love her more.

He thought of what was said in Phoebe’s tales of romance. True love; two beings destined to be with each other no matter the peril that would befall them. He did not believe this to be true indefinitely. One precise detail was complete nonsense in his mind.

He was truly, inescapably, inordinately in love with Sibella and Phoebe. And the whole mess of it was meant to be.”

From All the World’s a Stage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736011

[outlander-babes]

A Breath Of Snow And Ashes Thoughts

Those poor people

I don’t trust MacDonald

THE LASSIE REFERENCE OH MY GOD

Lmao I had to ask my dad when Lassie came out

I love fat raccoons but not when they’re eating stuff they’re not supposed to

I can’t fucking believe Bree hit Roger with a potato

They’re so cute lmao

Ian and Rollo are babies

IANS NAMED AFTER MURTAGH IM GONNA CRY

The Beardsley’s I love my boys so much

The McGillverays are as always iconic

Baby Jemmy is drunk lmao

Hmm Bobby Higgin’s backstory is making my American education act up lmao

This just in: I’m in love with Bobby Higgins

Oh noo Lizzie!!

THE BEARDSLEYS ARE SO CUTE THEY LOVE LIZZIE SO MUCH OH MY GOOOOOD

Bree’s gonna blow shit up and I love that for her

Jemmy and Roger have my whole heart

Jamie and Ian are SO FUNNY

HAVE I MENTIONED HOW MUCH I LOVE DUNCAN INNES

Phaedre is a QUEEN and I think if she didn’t have to protect Jemmy she would’ve decked Steven Bonnet

ROGER IS SUCH A GOOD DAD

Jamie’s fixation with Claire’s ass always makes me giggle

Malva’s so cute

Tom makes me laugh

Brianna is so cute and I’m so proud of her matches

That poor little baby she was so small

Why do we keep fucking traumatizing roger Jesus Christ

Marsali and her baby better be ok or so help me god

Listen I get it he didn’t really help her and Jamie made a good call but Tebbe should have been allowed to escape

Donner and Lionel Brown can choke

GOD DIANA GABALDONS PROSE IS SO GOOD

The way I literally got my favorite teacher to agree to read Outlander based off the back of this book and a snippet of prose

Roger is baby

I’m glad Claire finds Jamie’s naked women situation as funny as I do

MRS BUG IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

FUCK LIONEL BROWN UGH

Mrs Bug is a bad bitch and I love her

ITS WHAT HE DESERVES

THE BUGS ARE SO CUTE AHHHH

Fergus get your shit together

YAY THE BABY AND MARSALI ARE OK

I would DIE for Henri-Christian

Ian is baby I feel so bad

Roger is becoming the unofficial minister that’s so cute!!!

I love Mrs MacCallum

Mrs Wilson is HYSTERICAL

Bobby and Lizzie are so cute omg

YAY I LOVE THE TUSCARORA!!

Jamie baby it’s gonna be ok I believe in you

The old lady seems very nice

Jenny is into bdsm and I’m very proud of her

I love Malva she’s baby

MANFRED OWN UP TO YOUR SHIT

Lizzie sweetie I love you so much

NOOO DONT BE MEAN TO JOSEPH ITS NOT HIS FAULT YOUR SON FELL IN LOVE WITH A PROSTITUTE

Poor baby Aiden

Allen Christie can suck a dick

ROGER IS BABY SWEET BOY

I love Jamie he’s such a good dad

Jamie having a little crushey crush on Flora MacDonald is so cute!!

Yay Roger go be a minister!!

WINDY GOAT DONNER SUCK A WHOLE PENIS CHALLENGE

I would THROW DOWN for Dr Fentiman

I hope Mrs Slyvie is a reoccurring character I like her

Yay Roger’s a minister!!

Smh teenage boys out to ruin everything

Bobby’s so cute!!!

Nooo the poor baby and her mom 😭😭

Claire is such a good doctor

The fact that Claire was straight up on the verge of death, saw one (1) girl flirting with Jamie and went “HELL NO” is sO FUNNY

Roger blessing Henri-Christian was so sweet omg

NOOOO FERGUS MY SWEET BOY

Jamie only being worried about Claire’s ass is so on brand lord help me

“You look like a convict” MR CHRISTIE YOU CANT SAY THINGS LIKE THAT

Claire playing detective lmao

Jemmy and Germaine’s friendship is so wholesome

Mrs Bug carrying an entire spinning wheel on her back…strong queen

Ian and Bree are cousin goals

Poor Ian he just wanted to be happy

Listen I would DIE for Duncan and Phaedre

THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY

LIZZIE IS MY QUEEN!!!

Like yes girl get those identical husbands!!

ROGER IS JEMMY’S BIO DAD YAY!!!

Him shaving his head so they match is sO SOFT 🥺🥺

Lizzie and the Beardsley’s are so cute they love their baby so much

THE WAR HAS BEGUN!!!

The Christie’s can kick rocks

Stan Mary MacNab

Claire and Jamie are and have always been the power couple

Roger’s trying to be a good person

Oh sweet baby Ian don’t worry you’ll be happy one day

Yes!! Get that independence!!

“My malva” the way Claire has me in tEARS over this little girl

LET JOSEPH BE HAPPY

Stan Tom Christie

I would die for Sadie Ferguson

Mrs Martin is a vibe

STAN TOM CHRISTIE

Manfred and Eppie are so cute!!

Do I feel bad for Bonnet…HELL FUCKING NO JESUS CHRIST

YAY ITS PHADRE!!!

Brianna’s a bamf but we knew that

NOOOO JOSH!!!

I FUCKING HATE BONNET DROWN HIS ASS ITS WHAT HE DESERVES

Stan the Lindsey brothers

Ok ok ok they keep fucking up Lillywhite’s name and it’s sO FUNNY

Murtagh 🥺🥺

John babe wtf

Listen I love John I do but he fuckin pisses me off ok

MOTHERFUCKER GAVE AWAY HECTOR’S RING EVEN THOUGH HE HAD A DIFFERENT STONE

Hector I’m so sorry a bitch would do that

Brianna should have fucking told Willie the truth idgaf

Lowkey wishing Brianna let bonnet drown

Ian did the right thing

WINDY GOAT’S DEAD HALLELUJAH

Stan the Bugs

Listen I want to know the logistics of this 200 y/o chest

The way all the facts of that paper are false lmao

[kuiperblog]

Feel-good “bad ends”

Movie protagonists are often breaking the rules. This is true even when our protagonists are on the right side of the law: after all, nobody’s perfect. (And if they were, we probably wouldn’t like them as much: after all, it’s hard for a character to have a “growth arc” if they start from a place of perfection. And making occasional mistakes reminds us that, just like us, they’re only human: they’re more relatable.)

But when our protagonists break the rules, it often leads toward one of two different endings: either they get caught and punished for their transgressions (which can make for a feelbad ending), or they get away with it scot-free. Most movies opt for the latter, but it can often feel unsatisfying, because there’s a real sense in which we want to see our protagonists reap the consequences of their actions.

Usually, it’s not a problem for them to suffer the consequences if their transgression is minor. For example, if the main character says something mean to his love interest, he can get a slap in the face -- and having paid for his transgressions, he can then immediately be rewarded with whatever feel-good conclusion the audience is in the mood for.

However, sometimes the protagonist’s transgressions are more dire, and demand more dire consequences. Recently, I’ve found two movies that manage to end with something that is, in an objective sense, a very bad outcome for the main characters, and exactly in proportion to what they deserve for their significant transgressions during the film, yet still allows for a “feel-good” ending. Naming those examples would by itself probably be a spoiler, so...spoilers for an Edgar Wright movie and a Pixar movie (and a Rocky movie) below the fold.

Heist movies are the classic example of a movie formula where the protagonists break a ton of rules and, in the case of a feelgood ending, basically can’t suffer any consequences. Either they get caught and it’s a moral aesop about how crime doesn’t pay, or they get away with it and we’re happy that our characters, who are really quite morally virtuous apart from their tendency to commit acts of robbery, are able to enjoy the spoils they’ve absconded with.

Baby Driver is a movie that I think strikes the perfect balance.  In the end, our main character Baby doesn’t get away with his crimes. He’s committed a lot of crimes, and been involved in a lot of robberies. And not the non-violent kind, either!

At the same time, Baby was always “one of the good ones.” He was never the guy who held the gun; he was always the one behind the wheel. In fact, for basically his entire criminal career, he was blackmailed into it. Of course, the lazy method would be for the judge to have pity on him -- he was forced to commit crimes! But that would be ignoring the fact that the entire reason he got blackmailed in the first place is that he happened to steal a car from a criminal kingpin -- Baby was boosting cars well before a villain put a gun to his head and forced him to do it.

But as we see Baby marched to his prison cell, it’s intercut with testimony during his trial. Everything that we could have said in Baby’s defense is articulated by witnesses speaking in his defense:

“He got himself into a bad spot. I was just trying to get him out. I believe the defendant is of good character. He didn't deserve what happened to him.”

“It was the strangest thing. Before he drove off, he threw my purse right at me. Then he actually said ‘I'm sorry.’” (A delightful callback to a comedic moment earlier in the movie: Baby might resort to carjacking when he’s in a pinch, but he is the most polite carjacker you will ever meet. He doesn’t need your valuables; he just needs a getaway vehicle.)

“He made a mistake when he was younger, and it's haunted him ever since. When he tried to get out, he was pressured even harder. It was never his fault. He's got a good heart. Always has. Always will.”

Maybe it’s the fact that Sky Ferreira’s cover of Lionel Richie’s “Easy Like Sunday Morning” is the musical bed for this scene, but there’s something about the scene that feels incredibly cathartic. Baby Driver might be our protagonist, but he’s not innocent in all of this. His actions have consequences, and he gets sentenced to prison time for them.

At the same time, we’re left with the distinct impression that he has a life waiting for him on the outside. At the very least, Deborah is there waiting for him.

We can rest assured that Baby has no desire to return to a life of crime -- he and Deborah will be content with a modest life together. Indeed, a “modest life” is never something that either of them would need to settle for. Having a quiet simple life has been their aspiration for as long as they’ve known each other. Baby ends the movie knowing that he has years of prison time ahead of him, but also knowing that he’s on the start of a path to redemption. It’s enough to put a skip in his step as he walks across the prison yard.  (Well, maybe not a literal skip in his step, but at the very least, it’s written on his face: he feels good about the path he’s on.)

Baby Driver came out in 2017, but I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. I think the ending is a big part of what keeps me coming back to it. I love this ending -- there’s really nothing like the catharsis of seeing Baby held to account for his actions, while also having his virtues acknowledged. Those virtues might not be enough for him to avoid punishment, but in a way, his virtue its its own reward.  It’s a heist movie that ends with the main character getting caught and spending years behind bars, and yet it’s an incredibly feelgood ending that just leaves you satisfied for all the right reasons. (After all, we’ve seen the fate of Baby’s confederates: we know that he could have encountered fates much worse than prison.) There’s really nothing like it.

Well, almost nothing. Last night I finally got around to watching Monsters University.

It’s a fun movie -- the central plot is the classic “underdog sports story.” Mike Wazowski has no talent for scaring -- according to the bigshot jock voiced by Nathan Fillion, the only way someone like Mike could end up working at a place like Monsters Inc is in the mailroom. Of course, because this is a prequel, we know that Mike’s story ends with him and Sulley being best buds together working at the Monsters Inc scream factory, so the odds can’t be that stacked against them, right?  After all, the stakes are too high for them to fail: besides the fact that they need to be ready for the events of Monsters Inc, Mike is able to parley for a chance to get into the university’s scare program only because he makes an agreement with the Dean that if he fails, he’ll leave the school. With stakes that high, it seems only inevitable that Mike and Sulley will fulfill the classic underdog trope and lead a team of lovable losers to victory through sheer force of will (and the power of friendship).

Except, as we find out, force of will and the power of friendship aren’t enough to win you the big game when the thing you’re being tested on is talent and athleticism. Mike gets to experience the triumph of victory...but quickly learns that it only happened because Sulley cheated.

Mike and Sulley both bit off more than they could chew, and made a number of poor choices along the way. Sulley, unable to accept loss, cheated to achieve victory. Mike, unable to cope with experiencing loss, breaks into the university’s door department to mope around in the human world -- which is strictly verboten and extremely dangerous. 

But...in the course of solving the problem that they’ve created themselves (combining their efforts to escape the human world by using scare techniques the likes of which have never been seen before), we learn that Mike and Sulley do have what it takes. The Dean recognizes it, too. It almost feels like she’s about to offer them leniency. After all, this is a prequel movie: we know that all of this has to end with Mike and Sulley working at Monsters Inc in the scare department, right? That means the Dean has to let them back into the university’s scare program! Surely their acts of daring and bravery show they have what it takes to make it in the Monsters University scare program!

And so it comes as no surprise when, at the end of the third act, the Dean comes out just as they’re about to depart. We see what looks like a smile on her face for the first time in the movie.

Except, of course, it would be crazy if they got off scot-free. Mike broke into the human world, which is about the worst possible thing a monster can do. And if the cheating scandal weren’t enough to sink Sulley, there’s also the fact that he followed Mike into the human world (his intentions were noble as he wanted to save his friend, but still extremely dangerous and just as verboten).

The Dean has nothing but kind things to say to them. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to rescue them from the consequences of their actions.

The two get no leniency. We feel an odd mixture of elation and defeat. On one hand, they got the validation that they craved: the Dean, who thought it was impossible for Mike Wazowski to ever be a scarer, now admits that she may have misjudged him. On the other hand, their lives are ruined. They must now reap what they have sown. What will become of their dreams now? And maybe more importantly, how the heck are we supposed to get from here to the events of the original movie that takes place several years later in the Monsters Inc chronology?

And then, Mike remembers something.

“You know, there is still one way we can work at a scare company. They’re always hiring in the mail room.”

Mike and Sulley start at the absolute bottom rung of the corporate ladder. But there are worse fates than doing blue collar work. After all, the entire theme of the underdog sports story that got us to this point was to show that Mike (and, with Mike’s encouragement, also Sulley) are the kind of monsters who will do whatever it takes to achieve their dreams, simply willing it to happen through sheer enthusiasm and force of will and, of course, the power of friendship. After all, anything can be fun when you’re doing it with your friends. As Sulley says, “This is better than I ever imagined!” They approach the job with an enthusiasm that tells us that they’re on their way up within this company.

The rest of their journey is shown to us in montage: 

They’ve got that ambition, baby. This week they’re mopping floors, next week it’s the fries:

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before the company holds “try-outs” for the scare team, and from there, the rest is history.  Plus, if the original movie is fresh enough in your mind, you’ll appreciate the easter egg references to the girlfriend that Mike met during this time (and the constant beratement he constantly got over needing to file his paperwork): 

Over the course of the movie, they made some good decisions -- mostly the ones relating to the power of friendship and hard work. They also made some bad decisions -- mostly relating to playing fast-and-loose with the rules of their institution. Their college careers come to an unceremonious end.

And yet, even though the movie ends with them getting kicked out of college and spending “the best years of their lives” working blue collar jobs, it feels like an undeniably happy ending for the two of them. They reap exactly what they sow -- for worse, and for better. They don’t get to hide from the consequences of their actions...but that doesn’t mean things have to end on a dour note.

There’s something I really dig about that. It feels exactly like the first Rocky movie: Rocky is an athlete who trained and tried and fought as hard as he could -- and still lost. And yet, though he lost the big boxing match, there’s dignity in his loss. And in the end, he succeeded at the thing that really mattered.

In all three of these movies, it feels as though we as the audience are being set up for a specific happy ending. Of course Baby Driver has to end with the getaway driver getting away. Of course Monsters University has to end with Mike and Sulley graduating from the scare program. Of course Rocky has to end with our main character winning the big climactic boxing match. But in the end, we don’t get these “obvious” endings, because getting them wouldn’t really be a reflection of everything that led up to that point. And yet, we don’t walk away disappointed, because we somehow get something better. These characters may not get the “obvious” reward, the thing that they thought they wanted (and the thing that we, as the audience, thought that we wanted). But they get the things that really matter.

[cali-holland]

Family Getaways- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by anon: hi! i love your writing so much 💗 if it’s not a big deal, could you please write a oneshot where tom proposes to the reader while on vacation with both of their families, fast forward to the wedding and their vows to each other just has everyone crying cause it’s so sweet?

Prompt: A joint family vacation in California leads to you and Tom seeking your own romantic getaway.

Word Count: 1600

Inspired by: From this Moment On by Shania Twain & the movie The Vow

A/N: So yeah I haven’t actually been to legit weddings, so my bad if I messed up. Also, I’m Californian and I’ve never been to Lake Tahoe so idk why I chose that...

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist  

*gif is not mine*

~~~

“You know, for how many times we’ve been to California, we’ve never been up here.” You pondered with a laugh as you and Tom stepped into your hotel room.

“I know, which is why I suggested it.” He replied, a smug smile on his face, pleased with his decision. The two of you set your luggage down at the foot of the bed and you wrapped your arms around his neck while his went to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“And to think we could’ve been on a beach in the Bahamas.” You teased.

“Hey, now,” Tom pouted, “Lake Tahoe is supposed to be incredibly romantic.”

“Oh really,” You smirked. He leaned down to kiss you, but stopped when a loud knock sounded from your door.

“Tom, can I use your bathroom? Harry’s blowing up ours, and I just really got to piss.” Harrison asked with a sense of urgency. 

“So romantic.” You laughed as Tom sighed, letting go of you to open the door for his friend. Leave it to Harrison (and Harry) to ruin the moment and bring you two back to reality.

“Thanks.” Haz said, immediately ducking into the en suite bathroom.

Ever since your family moved next door to the Hollands and you all became close friends, it was a tradition to take a joint family vacation (plus Harrison) all together at least once a year. And for the past three years, you and Tom had attempted to use this as your own personal romantic getaway, but your families made sure there was no escaping them- and they also made sure that you two didn’t share a room. That was, until this year at least, and you were not going to complain. Still, the large holiday was always one that you looked forward to. Normally, you’d all go to a resort on the beach or have some sort of nice private beach house, but this year Tom had suggested Lake Tahoe in California of all places; though it wasn’t your typical family vacation, you still saw the appeal of the destination.

You couldn’t really enjoy your alone time with Tom- once Haz had left, it was already time to reconvene with your families in the hotel lobby for dinner. Choosing the steakhouse across the street, all of you (you, the Holland clan, Harrison, your younger sister, and your parents) made your way over there and somehow managed to get a table rather quickly. Tom sat beside you and instantly brought your chair closer to him so that he could put his arm around the back of your chair.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Your mom asked.

“We haven’t even been here three hours yet.” You laughed.

“Skiing?” Sam suggested.

“Snowboarding!” Tom and Harrison cheered simultaneously. Everyone broke off into their own conversations, and Tom turned to you.

“What do you think about going on one of those hot air balloon rides?” He asked, leaning in closer to you.

“Now, that sounds romantic.” You teased.

“And a good way to escape all of them.” Tom laughed, nodding back at your families.

“I also want to do some shopping in some of the boutiques.” You said and he jokingly frowned.

“That doesn’t sound romantic.”

“It doesn’t have to be with you.” You joked, making him shake his head.

“No, no, you’re not escaping me for the next week.” He leaned in further to kiss you.

“Hey, hey, not at the dinner table!” Harry called out as Paddy started to fake gage.

“Whatever.” Tom rolled his eyes at his brothers, shifting back into his seat but still keeping his arm around your chair.

It wasn’t until the third day on your vacation that you and Tom finally managed to break away from your families and take your hot air balloon ride together. After a few days of shopping, snowboarding, hiking, the works, you and Tom were due for your romantic getaway. The balloon lifted off the ground and you held tightly onto Tom’s hand, starting to wonder if maybe taking a relatively unstable floating device over Lake Tahoe was a good idea. Once it was steady in the air, you leaned on the edge of the basket in awe of the view.

“Damn, I’m so good at these ideas.” Tom said proudly, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“This is incredible.” You smiled, turning to kiss him. “You’re incredible.”

“Mm, I know.” He teased, “You’re pretty incredible, too.”

“Did you plan all this out?” You asked him, skeptically. You looked over at the small table in the balloon that held an assortment of fruits and cheeses, all things that Tom knew to be your favorite.

“What? You don’t think I could spontaneously suggest the perfect hot air balloon ride without any prior research into just how romantic it could be?”

“Considering romantic seems to be your favorite word on this holiday, I’d dare to say this wasn’t spontaneous.” You smirked, and he kissed you again.

“Just try the damn cheese.” Tom laughed. You turned to the table and helped yourself to some cheese blocks.

“Open up.” You said, holding up a cheese block for him. He opened up his mouth and you placed it on his tongue.

“Shit, that’s the good stuff.”

“Mhm,” You hummed, turning back to the table. You bit into a strawberry and went to turn back around to face Tom. You let out a small shriek,freezing, as he was down on one knee.

“Y/N,Y/L/N, you’re my best friend, and I love you more than anything in the world. You’re my soulmate, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” Tom asked with a hopeful smile on his face as he held out an open blue ring box, a beautiful diamond ring sitting in the center.

“You asshole,” You coughed, smiling and slapping his arm lightly. He laughed, confused by your reaction- he had definitely expected a ‘yes’. “I almost choked on that strawberry ‘cause of you.”

“So is that a-”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You smiled as he stood up to his full height. He pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

“Oh, shit, the ring.” Tom laughed, remembering he had to actually seal the deal. He carefully took it out of the box and slipped it onto your left ring finger.

“You totally planned this whole holiday around this.” You teased.

“I’ll never tell.” He shook his head as you pulled him in for another kiss.

A few hours later when you two met back up with your families, you could tell that they were all well aware of Tom’s intentions behind the hot air balloon ride, by the way everyone was eyeing you two so expectantly and faked surprise once you showed them the ring.

~~~

And just eight months later, it was the big day. Everything was set up perfectly in the small church near your homes in Kingston. You were more excited than nervous; your new life as an official Holland was just moments away from beginning.

Tom was waiting anxiously at the altar. His palms were a little sweaty and he was resisting the urge to mess with his hair like he always did when he was anxious. He was nearly shaking in anticipation as the music kicked on and his brothers and Harrison walked down the aisle with your sister and your bridesmaids- he was just one step closer to seeing you, his beautiful bride.

“You got this.” Harrison reassured him, from his position as best man. 

Tom nodded, and the music changed to an instrumental version of Lionel Richie and Diana Ross’ “Endless Love”. He let out a breath that he didn’t even realize he’d been holding as you emerged from the back of the church with your father leading you down the aisle. You smiled at him, trying to refrain yourself from crying; meanwhile, Tom not so subtly wiped away the tears that had slipped.

As you stood in front of him, you handed your bouquet off to your sister, your maid of honor. Tom took your hands in his and the two of you turned to the officiant. The ceremony went on, but you couldn’t focus on much. You were too focused on the fact that you were standing next to your favorite person in the world, about to marry him. When the time for the vows came, you turned back to fully face Tom.

“Y/N,” He started, smiling softly at you and you could still see the tears in his eyes. “I vow to always be there for you, to hold you whenever life gets hard, to help you throughout life, to always make you smile. From this moment on, I vow to love you for the rest of my life.”

“Tom,” You began, tears beginning to well up in your own eyes. “I vow to love you for the rest of my life, with every beat of my heart; I vow to always care for you, to always support you, and to always give you anything and everything you need. I vow to live within the warmth of your heart and always call it home.”

“And, now the rings.” The officiant announced and Harrison stepped up, handing over the rings to the two of you. You and Tom went through the “I Do”s and the exchanging of rings.

“You may kiss the bride.”

At the official words, Tom pulled you in for a passionate first kiss as husband and wife.

[bongaboi]

In Lionel Messi’s Move, a Dim Portrait of Modern Soccer

In Lionel Messi’s Move, a Dim Portrait of Modern Soccer

He could not stay where he wanted; few teams could afford him. Even one of the best players of all time was not able to resist the economic forces that carry the game along.

By Rory Smith

Aug. 10, 2021

In those frantic, final hours in April, before a cabal of owners of Europe’s grandest clubs unveiled their plan for a breakaway superleague to an unsuspecting and unwelcoming world, a schism emerged in their ranks.

One faction, driven by Andrea Agnelli, chairman of Juventus, and Florentino Pérez, president of Real Madrid, wanted to go public as quickly as possible. Agnelli, in particular, was feeling the personal pressure of acting, in effect, as a double agent. Everything, they said, was ready; or at least as ready as it needed to be.

Another group, centered on the American ownership groups that control England’s traditional giants, counseled caution. The plans still had to be finessed. There was still debate, for example, on how many spots might be handed over to teams that had qualified for the competition. They felt it better to wait until summer.

If the first group had not won the day — if the whole project had not exploded into existence and collapsed in ignominy in 48 tumultuous hours — this would have been the week, after the Olympics but before the new season began, when they presented their self-serving, elitist vision of soccer’s future.

That the Super League fell apart, of course, was a blessed relief. That this week has, instead, been given over to a dystopian illustration of where, exactly, soccer stands suggests that no great solace should be found in its failure.

On Thursday, Manchester City broke the British transfer record — paying Aston Villa $138 million for Jack Grealish — for what may not be the last time this summer. The club remains hopeful of adding Harry Kane, talisman of Tottenham and captain of England, for a fee that could rise as high as $200 million.

And then, of course, dwarfing everything else, it emerged that Lionel Messi would be leaving — would have to leave — F.C. Barcelona. Under La Liga’s rules, the club’s finances are such that it could not physically, fiscally, register the greatest player of all time for the coming season. It had no choice but to let him go. He had no choice but to leave.

Everything that has played out since has felt so shocking as to be surreal, but so predictable as to be inevitable.

There was the tear-stained news conference, in which Messi revealed he had volunteered to accept a 50 percent pay cut to stay at the club he has called home since he was 13, where he scored 672 goals in 778 games, where he broke every record there was to break, won everything there was to win and forged a legend that may never be matched.

As soon as that was over, there came the first wisps of smoke from Paris, suggesting the identity of Messi’s new home. Paris St.-Germain was, apparently, crunching the numbers. Messi had been in touch with Neymar, his old compadre, to talk things through. He had called Mauricio Pochettino, the manager, to get an idea of how it might work. P.S.G. was in touch with Jorge, his agent and father.

Then, on Tuesday, it happened. Everything was agreed upon: a salary worth $41 million a year, basic, over two years, with an option for a third. As his image was stripped from Camp Nou, a hole appearing between the vast posters of Gerard Piqué and Antoine Griezmann, Messi and his wife, Antonela Roccuzzo, boarded a plane in Barcelona, all packed and ready to go.

Jorge Messi assured reporters at the airport that the deal was done. P.S.G. teased it with a tweet. Messi landed at Le Bourget airport, near Paris, wearing that shy smile and a T-shirt reading: “Ici, C’est Paris.”

This was not a journey many had ever envisaged him making. But he had no other choice; or, rather, the player for whom anything has always been possible, for once, had only a narrow suite of options.

There is a portrait of modern soccer in that restricted choice, and it is a stark one. Lionel Messi, the best of all time, does not have true agency over where he plays his final few years. Even he was not able to resist the economic forces that carry the game along.

He could not stay where he wanted to stay, at Barcelona, because the club has walked, headlong, into financial ruin. A mixture of the incompetence of its executives and the hubris of the institution is largely responsible for that, but not wholly.

The club has spent vastly and poorly in recent years, of course. It has squandered the legacy that Messi had done so much to construct. But it has done so in a context in which it was asked and expected to compete with clubs backed not just by oligarchs and billionaires but by whole nation states, their ambitions unchecked and their spending unrestricted.

The coronavirus pandemic accelerated the onset of calamity, and so Barcelona was no longer in a position where it could keep even a player who wanted to stay. When it came time for him to leave, he found a landscape in which only a handful of clubs — nine at most — could offer the prospect of allowing him to compete for another Champions League trophy. They had long since left everybody else behind, relegated them to second-class status.

And of those, only three could even come close to taking on a salary as deservedly gargantuan as his. He should not be begrudged a desire to be paid his worth. He is the finest exponent of his art in history. It would be churlish to demand that he should do it on the cheap, as though it is his duty to entertain us. It could only have been Chelsea or Manchester City or Paris.

To some — and not just those who hold P.S.G. close to their hearts — that will be an appetizing prospect: a chance to see Messi not just reunited with Neymar, but aligned for the first time with Kylian Mbappé, who many assume will eventually take his crown as the best, and with his old enemy Sergio Ramos, too.

That it will be captivating is not in doubt. And doubtless profitable: The jerseys will fly off the shelves; the sponsorships will roll in; the TV ratings will rise, too, perhaps lifting all of French soccer with it. It may well be successful, on the field; it will doubtless be good to watch. But that is no measure. So, too, is the sinking of a ship.

That the architects of the Super League arrived, in April, at the wrong answer is not in doubt. The vision of soccer’s future that they put forward was one that benefited them and left everyone else, in effect, to burn.

But the question that prompted it was the right one. The vast majority of those dozen teams knew that the game in its current form was not sustainable. The costs were too high, the risks too great. The arms race that they were locked into led only to destruction. They recognized the need for change, even if their desperation and self-interest meant they could not identify what form that change should take.

They worried that they could not compete with the power and the wealth of the two or three clubs that are not subject to the same rules as everybody else. They felt that the playing field was no longer level. They believed that, sooner or later, first the players and then the trophies would coalesce around P.S.G., Chelsea and Manchester City.

It was sooner, as it turns out. P.S.G. has signed Messi. City may commit more than $300 million on just two players in a matter of weeks, as the rest of the game comes to terms with the impact of the pandemic. Chelsea has spent $140 million on a striker, too. This is the week when all their fears, all their dire predictions, have come to pass.

There should be no sympathy, of course. Those same clubs did not care at all about competitive balance while the imbalances suited them. Nothing has damaged the chances of meaningful change more than their abortive attempt to corral as much of the game’s wealth as possible to their own ends.

But they are not the only ones to lose in this situation. In April, in those whirlwind 48 hours, it felt like soccer avoided a grim vision of its future. As Messi touched down on the ground near Paris on Tuesday, as the surreal and the inevitable collided, it was hard to ignore the feeling that it had merely traded it for another.

Rory Smith is the chief soccer correspondent, based in Manchester, England. He covers all aspects of European soccer and has reported from three World Cups, the Olympics, and numerous European tournaments. @RorySmith

[c-optimistic]

brave

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

Lena was her best friend.

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

And Lena, Lena was her best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

Lena did not get along with her adoptive mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t, of course.)

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

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

x

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

“None of your business.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not gross.”

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

“Stop saying that, it’s not gross—”

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this, Lena smirked.

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

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

“Why would I do that?”

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

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

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

“Please, Kara?”

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

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

x

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

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

Lena only had her.)

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alex laughed, shaking her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

She didn’t of course.

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

x

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

A month after that they went on their first date.

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

And Kara…well, she tried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

x

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike missed her deadpan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t beat your own girlfriend?”

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

“But you want me to beat her?”

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

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

x

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

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

And yet they did not fight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kara—”

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

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

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

Well that turned out to be a joke too.)

x

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

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

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

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

Because Jack…he made Lena smile.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That wasn’t what I—”

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

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

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

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

“What was the prompt?” she asked softly, like she knew, without having any of the details, exactly what was twisting in Kara’s chest and why she was willing to nearly fail—why she’d rather fail.

“We’re supposed to write something that ends tragically. It’s supposed to be a homage to naturalism.”

“That’s not quite the prompt, Kara, you’re—”

“—so we weren’t supposed to have a unhappy ending for our characters?” Kara said, cutting Lena off more harshly than she intended. She turned away from Lena’s hurt expression and focused on Alex, unable to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Kara,” she said after a moment. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s not the point, Alex,” Kara said, arms crossed over her chest. She knew Alex was getting so much more from that one comment, reading in-between the lines and understanding just how deep it went.

“I know,” Alex said, and it broke Kara’s heart because Lena just seemed confused—when normally, she was the first to notice something was wrong.

x

James Olsen was…gosh, he was James Olsen.

He was kind and generous and brave and he dragged Clark right back into her life, and when he spoke Kara thought her knees would give way because gosh he was James Olsen.

He was sweet and passionate and could make her laugh with ease, and he was late for work the day they met because apparently she made the bestcoffee he’d ever had and he couldn’t believe his best friend’s cousin worked at the café down the street for nearly a month without his knowing.

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning as he tossed several twenties into the tip jar, much to the glee of Kara’s coworkers. “I’ll see you later, Kara,” he added and made it sound charming and not creepy like Kara was used to (because it was a question, a request, made confidently and kindly, with all the promise of respecting her wishes and boundaries).

(And Clark was grinning next to him, his eyes sad as he looked at her but the hint of a promise on his lips, a whisper of things changing as he murmured a quick and awkward goodbye.

Clark, who left her. Clark, who was back again thanks to James Olsen.)

James Olsen…James Olsen made her heart flutter, made her stomach fill with butterflies, made her feel heard and respected and important. He took her around Metropolis, on his daily attempts to snap a quick picture of whatever caught his interest, telling her all about what it was like working with Clark and Lois and Perry White—telling her about the Daily Planet and finding a home behind the lens of his camera. He spoke of his father, of his admiration for all those who gave everything to help others, his hope that one day he could do the same.

And Kara…she told him about Alex, about missing Clark sometimes even if she was still furious that he left her behind, she told him about her parents and the lab her father worked in, the cases her mother poured over at nights pausing long enough only to make sure to tuck her in. She told him about how she’d wanted to follow her parents’ footsteps, wanted to help people, wanted to do something important with her life.

She told him about her Aunt Astra—how she wanted to see her again, wanted to find out why she did what she did, if she regretted her actions, if she felt guilty that she ruined Kara’s life.

She told him about Eliza and Jeremiah and how much she loved them.

She told him about moving to Metropolis and how she’d imagined it would be the next big adventure, that coming here would change everything—help her find her place.

She did not tell him about Lena.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that Lena had a permanent place next to Alex in her heart, couldn’t tell James that Lena was a constant before and after her parents—a grounding point, an anchor. She couldn’t confess that Lena held her hand throughout all her anger at Clark, all her mixed feelings over her Aunt Astra, didn’t even know how to say that Lena was her family as much as Eliza and Jeremiah.

She didn’t even say that the move to Metropolis was for Lena, for them to remain together in some way even while she was off rising in the ranks in her brother’s company. She…she couldn’t even begin to verbalize what it felt like to watch Lena slip away, for their daily lunches and texts to dwindle down to nothing in weeks, for Kara to hear Lena apologetically say she just didn’t have the time to come to game night, even if Alex had gone out of her way to visit.

Kara told James about every big thing in her life, but she couldn’t talk about the biggest, and when she kissed him for the first time—the night he brought her Chinese and ice cream to cheer her up after she’d texted him to say that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet like she wanted—she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be right if she fell for him because she was rather sure Lena’s shadow would always hang over her.

But James was James, and when he kissed her back, she fell anyway.

x

It took months before Lena met James.

(It wasn’t weird that her best friend didn’t seem all that interested in meeting her boyfriend. It wasn’t strange that Winn took more interest in her love life than Lena, her best friend. It didn’t bother Kara at all that Alex flew in and spent a day with Kara and James before Lena even acknowledged that Kara had a boyfriend.

She was busy. Kara understood.)

Her tiny apartment—that she was barely able to afford with her meager salary from the café and the few random freelance articles she’d written—was full to the brim with only a handful of people. James was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard, chatting with Winn as he did so, discussing an article Clark had written with Lois. Lena and Alex were on the couch, arguing over bioethics concerns coupled with the rapid advancement in medicine. Kara leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment, smiling at Alex’s impassioned speech for more regulation as well as Lena’s counterpoints that innovation could never be curbed.

It was nice, this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to witness Lena and Alex’s arguing, both of them throwing around words that eventually went over Kara’s head—even if she’d studied the sciences in college. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to see Lena’s wide smile.

Kara stiffened at the thought, at the longing she felt, and with a guilty glance back at James, she shuffled over to the window, opening it as far as it would go, and climbing through it, dropping down onto the metal fire escape. The cool night air calmed her somewhat, but not as much as the sounds of honking cars and indecipherable voices, the rattle of a train somewhere in the distance, the sound of music coming from one of the lower apartments.

“Oh, there you are,” James said, sticking his head out of the window and smiling. It was charming and cute and he was so perfect for her. She loved him so much. “I was wondering where you went off to, and there aren’t a lot of hiding placing in your apartment.” He smiled wider at his little joke, joining her on the fire escape, looking down at her like he always did: like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And Kara wondered if she was somehow broken, because she deserved this, she did. She deserved someone who would always be with her and always take her needs and wants into account. And yet…yet all she could think about was how James deserved better than her—that he offered more than she ever could, and she’d dragged him far enough behind her for it to be cruel and wrong.

“James, I—” She stopped when he shook his head, still smiling and still looking at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen, even as his eyes filled with understanding and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

“It’s Lena, isn’t it?” he asked, no real bitterness in his tone, just quiet acceptance. “I guessed, you know? From the start,” he explained, chuckling mirthlessly at her look of shock, leaning against the railing and turning to look up at the sky. “You avoided talking about her so much I knew you either hated her or loved her, and I don’t think you’re capable of hate. But I was sure when I saw you look at her tonight.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kara said haltingly, wanting to hug James or lean into his warmth or use his shoulder to steady herself, knowing that none of those things were appropriate anymore. “I thought I just needed—I thought if I…I don’t know what I thought.” She was quiet for a moment, choosing to look through the window and watch Winn join Alex and Lena’s debate, Winn saying something that made them all laugh. “Is it really so obvious?”

“For someone who’s looking for it? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” James told her, knocking his shoulder lightly with hers, prompting her to look at him. “You know, she feels the same way.”

No, Kara didn’t know, barely considered the possibility. But her heart thumped at the very thought.

“Even if she did, she’s…I don’t think she has the time for a relationship.”

“She’s your best friend, Kara,” James said, accepting her point easily. “If anyone knows her it’s you.”

She nodded, but boy, Kara didn’t think that was true anymore.

“Do you think that job in National City is still open?” she asked suddenly, avoiding his eyes when she noticed concern begin to flood his features.

“Kara,” he began, “I don’t know if running away is the answer.”

“It’s not running away. I’m—I thought I’d find something here. I thought being closer to Clark, being in Metropolis would help me find what I’m looking for. But it wasn’t. And Alex is in National City,” she tacked on at the end, as if it would settle the issue. In many ways it did though, and James knew it.

“It’s still running away,” he told her softly, not really arguing but just pointing out a truth. “If she’s your best friend, what are you so afraid of?”

(And oh leave it to James to get to the heart of the issue, to look at her and understand and not let her get away with deflections and excuses like Alex tended to. She was afraid. Of what, Kara wasn’t quite sure. Maybe that Lena wouldn’t feel the same way. Maybe that it would change something between them. Maybe that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Lena’s flimsy presence in her life would disappear entirely.

Maybe it was just that every time Kara wanted to confess, she thought about how Lena didn’t believe in love at all and it broke her heart.)

“Are you upset with me?” Kara asked weakly instead of answering James, and though he gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was doing, he indulged her anyway.

“No,” he answered, having paused long enough that Kara knew he’d put real thought into it, had searched his feelings for any hint of anger or bitterness, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice when he found none. “No, I knew what I was getting into, even if I hoped I was wrong. So it’s not like you led me on or anything.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving her off, his voice slightly gruff—like he was holding back some sort of emotion. “Can I just—would it be weird to ask one thing?” When she shook her head, James cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “If you met me before her, if you’d never met her at all—” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a firm shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a moment. “What ifs don’t matter.”

Kara studied him sadly, from the stiffness of his shoulders to the fixed smile on his lips, and she felt something in her break.

“Can we—can we just stay out here for a while?” she asked in a low voice, knowing that returning inside would make this all real, all permanent, would mean that there would never be any going back. And James—soft, kind, generous, and gentle—gave her a real smile before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the nip of the night air, his presence as sturdy and strong as ever.

“However long you need, Kara,” he whispered into her hair.

And they stayed out there for what felt like ages before Alex came to collect them, brows furrowed and expression concerned.

x

She was still on her phone as she sat down across from Kara at the café she’d chosen—a fancy place Kara normally would never have stepped in under her own volition—but before Kara had the chance to feel annoyed, she shoved the phone away and smiled brilliantly at her, and things were fine again.

Until she spoke, at least.

“Kara! It’s been so long, I am so sorry, things at work just got—”

“I know, Lena. Lex put you in charge of R&D, that’s huge.”

(She tried not to sound bitter, but she was rather sure she mostly failed because Lena was looking at her oddly, hurt at Kara’s tone. But the thing was, Kara was furious. She only found out about Lena’s promotion through Clark and an article he’d written about LuthorCorp. Even worse, when he’d asked if she could get into contact with Lena and see if she would be willing to sit down for an interview—something that might’ve made Perry White see reason and give her another chance for an entry-level job at the Daily Planet—she’d gotten nothing in reply. Not even a text back.

She remembered a time when they couldn’t go two days without talking. Now they were going months without a single word between them.)

“Kara, are you—”

“I have news of my own,” Kara interrupted, smiling wide and knowing it likely seemed forced, knowing because it felt forced. “It’s why I was so insistent we get coffee.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, giving Kara that smirk she loved so much. “Did you get that job at the Tribune you wanted?”

Kara blinked.

“No. No, they turned me down nearly a year ago.” It had been one of the first jobs she’d applied to upon arriving at Metropolis. And though she’d thought Lena had been the one to bring her potstickers to cheer her up, she now realized that had been Clark and Lois, the two of them cheerfully tearing down everyone at the Tribune just to make her laugh.

(Had she just inserted Lena into her memory? Imagined her there to offer comfort because Lena had always been there before? Was she sick? She was rather sure there was an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy devoted to Izzie seeing things.)

“Oh,” Lena muttered, looking as shocked as Kara felt.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara hastened to say, both not liking the look on Lena’s face or the dark path her thoughts were winding down.

“Isn’t it though? The next thing you’ll tell me is you married James.”

She was going for a joke, Kara knew that. But boy, did the comment hit her like a truck. For a moment, she could barely breathe.

“Actually,” she struggled to say, “we broke up a few months ago.”

“Kara,” Lena said, eyes now so wide that it was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara let out a loud and undignified laugh, but it was better than letting out the sob that threatened to break free.

“Alex said she thought you weren’t listening to your voicemails. Guess she was right.”

“I-I’ve been in the lab,” Lena stuttered through her shock. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been—Kara, I’m so—”

“It’s fine,” Kara stressed, waving off Lena’s pleas and smiling at her. “That’s not why I asked you to coffee either. You see, I did get a better job—”

“—that’s amazing, Kara, I had every confidence you would, you’ll make a wonderful reporter—”

“—as Cat Grant’s personal assistant,” Kara finished, speaking over Lena.

“Sorry, what?”

“Apparently Ms. Grant has gone through four assistants in four months. Clark and James think that if I can hold the job for a few years, I could move up. Get a job as a writer for Ms. Grant’s magazine.”

“That’s hardly hard-hitting journalism, Kara, it’s not what you wanted—”

“—no, but I have to be realistic. Perry White was never going to give me a job. CatCo might.”

“It’s in National City,” Lena pointed out suddenly, as if this would put an end to whatever argument they were having.

“I know. That was my second bit of news, actually.” She paused for effect. “I’m moving!”

Lena didn’t look as thrilled as Kara hoped she’d be.

“You’re what? When?”

“I’m moving,” Kara repeated, checking her watch surreptitiously. “Alex and I are making a road trip out of it. She flew in last night and we’re leaving in a few hours. She likes to drive at night.”

“You’re leaving? Tonight?” She looked hurt by that and Kara felt guilty for only a moment before her anger and frustration returned. (Never lie, never let issues fester—that was how they managed to never fight, for their arguments to get settled quickly and efficiently, without much hurt on either side. But Lena was lying and Kara was allowing issues to fester and she was rather sure the resulting implosion was inevitable. Needed, even.) “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why don’t you ever call me back?” Kara returned flatly, getting to her feet. “You’re my best friend, Lena. You always will be. But I’m unhappy here, moving to National City is a good choice for me.”

(It felt like they were breaking up. But that was ridiculous. They hadn’t been dating in the first place.

She idly wondered why no one had ever mentioned that losing your best friend hurt worse than losing a boyfriend.

She idly wondered if her position was unique because she was losing Lena.)

Lena got to her feet as well, and for a glorious moment Kara imagined a scenario in which Lena kissed her senseless, in which she grabbed Kara’s hands and fought to make her stay, in which she swore she’d stop being so distant, so faraway even in the moments they were together. But the moment passed quickly and Kara crashed down to reality when Lena only offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t lose touch, okay?” Lena said, playing with her watch and staring at the table. She made an awkward movement, almost like she wanted to pull Kara into a hug, but stopped halfway and just remained motionless. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t just so sad.

Kara ignored the question, gathered all her courage, and placed a soft and brief kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“Bye, Lena.”

(Lena didn’t chase her down as she left the coffee shop, didn’t find her huddled in an alleyway, wiping her cheeks furiously, didn’t even come by hours later, as Kara found every excuse to delay their trip National City and Alex continued to give her pitying looks.

And by the time they were on the highway, Kara staring out her window without speaking, that goodbye felt rather permanent.)

x

She rather thought that National City was good for the soul.

It was sunny in National City, the people seemed livelier, kinder, warmer. And even if Cat Grant was in one of her terrible moods—which she was in at least once a day, usually because someone from photography and layout had messed something up—Kara could always count on sticky buns from Noonan’s to cheer her right up. (Not Cat, obviously. Cat wouldn’t touch one of those buns with a ten-foot pole. No, the sweet was for Kara.)

She had Sister Night in National City, a job she usually adored and a goal she was determined to reach, an apartment she loved, and wonderful new friends.

Kara was happy.

Really.

“Kara, I’m watching that. Stop changing the channel.”

“Why do you need to watch the news, don’t you get enough of it from Maggie?”

(Another thing National City had? A chance for Kara to witness her sister’s happiness. She’d broken things off with Maggie sometime during medical school, but had run into the newly minted detective and things had apparently just…worked out. Alex was smiling all the time, and it was beautiful.)

“Just because you avoid everything that has to do with Lena—”

“—I don’t do that,” Kara denied, shaking her head quickly and vehemently.

“—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do my research so that I can destroy her when she visits. She’s got to know her brother’s company does more harm than good.”

“Do you talk to her?” Kara found herself asking despite herself. It was stupid. She knew it would just hurt if Alex said yes and bum her out if Alex said no. It was a no-win situation and she hated herself for it.

“Only when she visits. And you know she always wants to see you too, but you keep acting surly.”

“Sorry if I expect my best friend to care about me more often than only when she’s in National City to oversee something at a branch of LuthorCorp.”

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Alex said happily, turning the television off once she noticed Kara’s grimace. “She’s your best friend.”

“She didn’t come after me.”

“You know she can’t run in heels,” Alex joked, and Kara struggled to keep her impassive expression, “that’s not her fault.”

“She hasn’t tried reaching out.”

“Because you’ve shut her out,” Alex countered, referring to the almost weekly trips Lena made to National City the first month after Kara moved. Each time, Kara had said she was busy with work and couldn’t get away, and Lena would leave with only a text goodbye.

And then those had stopped too, the visits. The calls and the texts became rare enough that it was almost as if they had stopped.

At times, Kara thought if it weren’t for the occasional press conferences Lena gave in her brother’s place, she wouldn’t have even known Lena was healthy and happy.

“Come on, Kara,” Alex continued, “you’re older than her, you’ve got to be the mature one.”

“I’m only older by three months!” Kara huffed, throwing herself onto the couch and staring hard at the ceiling. “Besides, distance is good. Great, even. More than necessary. We were too dependent on each other.”

“Right, and my hair is green,” Alex deadpanned, leaning over Kara and shaking her hair in Kara’s face, as if to show off her auburn locks. “For two smart people, you’re both being really stupid.”

“You’re being really mean. Like Ms. Grant mean, and that’s just sad, Alex.”

“Shut up and move over, if you’re not going to let me watch the news, you might as well put on a movie.”

Kara did as she was told, only half-heartedly listening to Alex’s running commentary on the film she’d put on, finally breaking after half an hour—much to Alex’s very obvious amusement.

“I miss her,” Kara admitted in a soft voice.

Alex’s expression fell, and she pulled Kara into a hug.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Have you tried drawing her and puppies to feel better?”

“No ice cream for you,” Kara muttered while Alex apologized for her joke, but she was hiding a smile in Alex’s shoulder, so she supposed her sister wasn’t very sorry at all.  

x

She’d begun to think something might be wrong when the name ‘Luthor’ appeared in the news more often than normal.

The family was always in some way making news. Whether it was funding research for a cure to a rare disease or a shady business deal with a foreign company, LuthorCorp and by extension the three Luthors in charge, was consistently in the public eye. It wasn’t always good, but it was never obviously bad, either.

Until, however, Lex seemed to go off the rails entirely.

It started slow, slow enough that at first Kara didn’t even notice in between watching news clips while waiting for Ms. Grant’s coffee. There was an odd article about abnormal contracts with weapon manufacturers. Then, there was a report or two about odd—if not outright strange—transactions with certain individuals that any wise businessman wouldn’t touch.

About a year after Kara moved to National City, the Daily Planet published an explosive article that LuthorCorp was secretly funding a weapon production program and selling said weapons to various third parties.

Six months after that, Lex was arrested on a vast array of charges, Lillian Luthor stepped away from the company, and Lena was named CEO and took on the brunt of the backlash as LuthorCorp basically went up in flames.

And for the first time in about eight months, Kara heard from Lena:

Clark did all the legwork for the article.

And well, Kara was quite familiar with the sensation of her family members destroying things she loved, and it didn’t come as a shock at all.

x

Kara eyed her new office apprehensively, leaning against the far wall and staring at her empty desk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was thrilled, she was, she’d been eyeing a job like this since she arrived in National City, but now that she had it….

It was a little anticlimactic. She’d called Alex and her sister had been appropriately overjoyed for her, as were Eliza and Jeremiah, and yet something felt missing. Something felt wrong.

(She stared at her phone, at the news notifications about LuthorCorp’s move to National City and their planned rebranding, and she tried to pretend that had nothing to do with how she felt at this moment.

She tried and she failed.)

“Ready for lunch?” Alex asked from behind her, eyes kindly averted, choosing to stare at her nails instead of the look of panic that quickly took over Kara’s expression when she continued scrolling through the articles and stopped at what must have been the most recent photo of Lena, looked ragged and annoyed as she shoved her way past reporters to get into her building here in National City.

The caption below the photo wasn’t flattering.

“Have you seen her yet?” Kara asked, knowing Maggie was waiting for them at some vegan restaurant, wanting to celebrate Kara’s promotion. Alex continued to stare at her nails and Kara continued to think that was rather kind of her.

“Why? Will my answer change what you plan on doing?”

“What do you think I’m planning on doing?”

“Honestly?” Alex asked, finally looking up and eyeing Kara critically. “I think you’re going to keep pretending you’re not missing her.” She hooked her arm through Kara’s and dragged her out of the empty office, pulling her towards the elevators. “When you wanted to leave Metropolis, I was glad. I hated seeing you waste your life away in a coffee shop just because you wanted to be near Lena.” As the elevator doors slid shut, Alex leaned heavily into Kara’s side, head resting on her shoulder. “You were right. You did need to learn to live your own separate life from Lena, but now that you have, just go see your best friend. She needs you.”

“What about the vegan restaurant? Maggie is waiting,” Kara protested, resisting weakly when Alex tugged her into CatCo’s lobby and then out into the street. “We were going to celebrate.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to miss out on this restaurant,” Alex said with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, a halfhearted attempt to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. “Go home, Kara. Think about what you’re planning. Then go see Lena.” Then, without giving Kara a chance to argue, Alex shoved her lightly in the direction of her apartment and then turned on her heel, walking briskly away in the opposite direction.

And Kara went home, fully intending to drown all her doubts and sorrows in a pint (or two) of ice cream.

Or at least, what was what she intended. She never really got the chance; by the time she’d changed into her comfort pajamas, a thick blanket thrown over her shoulders, and was digging through her freezer for that ‘rainy day’ ice cream, there was a knock on her door. Grumbling and annoyed, because of course Alex wouldn’t trust her enough to believe she would actually listen to her sister’s advice (for good reason, she supposed, considering her current state), Kara practically stalked towards her door, throwing it open with more force than necessary, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Alex, you need to let me have my night to mope, can’t your lecture wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” said someone with a voice that decidedly didn’t belong to Alex. “It’s a bad time, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.”

Kara’s eyes flew open, and before her visitor had the chance to step back, Kara had reached out for a hug—it was instinct, it was habit, it was just what she did. And when she got her hug back, mismatched edges seemed to finally slot into place, and Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“It’s always a good time for you,” Kara said into Lena’s ear, unable to help her wide grin.

x

“Come on, Lena. Feel the burn! Enjoy the burn! If it hurts, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kara called over to Lena, watching her struggle with mild amusement. She’d suggested morning jogs as a joke initially, but Lena had taken to the idea with surprising eagerness, something Kara was rather sure she regretted now, in between all the heaving breaths and the sweaty hair. She wondered if Lena still thought it was a good way for them to rebuild their friendship.

“I…can’t…believe…” Lena managed to say between gasps, bending over with her hands on her knees and head practically in her chest. “…people…do this for…fun.”

“I could carry you on the way back if you like.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kara,” Lena said, looking over at her with narrowed eyes. “You killed me. I’m dead. Say goodbye to the last sane Luthor, please don’t let my obituary be too embarrassing.” She straightened as she spoke, stretching out her back and arms and Kara was a little bit distracted to immediately respond.

“Don’t say that,” she finally found the voice to admonish. “Of course your obituary will be embarrassing. I’ll write about the time we snuck into the art room to fix an assignment you’d already made a perfect on.”

“I didn’t know it’d already been graded, Kara,” Lena said, not looking particularly glad that this had been brought up. Kara wondered if she remembered the way they’d giggled as they escaped the school building, tangling pinkies and swearing they’d never bring it up again. “It was ugly, what sort of person gives perfect marks on something so ugly?”

“Well, I thought you were adorable,” Kara said without thinking, grimacing as she registered her own words, “I mean—not adorable, but um, adorably criminal.”

“It was my Luthor genes shining through,” Lena joked, winking when Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, you don’t have to go so slow because of me,” she added when Kara jogged in place, staring out into the park—looking at the couple walking their dog and the old woman sitting on a bench reading the newspaper. Kara laughed, listening to Lena’s heavy breathing, and shook her head.

“Oh shucks, look at that, my shoes are untied,” Kara said in mock surprise, leaning down and untying her shoelaces before taking her time to tie them up again. She took extra care in making sure everything was tight, going as far as to untie and retie her right shoe—just in case. And when she looked back up, Lena was staring at her with a mix of fondness and confusion.

“Back in Metropolis,” she began.

“Lena, I don’t—”

“—I avoided you. I wasn’t working all the time, I could’ve seen you more often but I…” she trailed off, frowning. “And I didn’t realize how much that could hurt until you avoided me. When you left. And I’m sorry.”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Lena blinked, looking like she hadn’t expected the question, but surely she should have. She’d brought it up, she made it a point to apologize. Of course Kara would want more explanation.

“How about a race?” Lena suggested, ignoring Kara’s question completely. “First one to the gate gets to choose breakfast?”

Kara’s grin was her only reply.

(Needless to say, she won the race. They ended up with sticky buns and coffee from Noonan’s, Kara regaling Lena with horror stories about needing pick-me-ups at all hours, depending on Cat Grant’s mood.

And the entire time her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering what would make Lena avoid her in the first place.)

x

“You know,” Lena said in between mouthfuls of pizza, “I never thought I’d say this, but reporters aren’t so bad.” She took a sip of her wine—the charm and sophistication of the action lost on Kara as Lena was drinking her wine out of a plastic cup—and smiled benignly. “There’s even one reporter I’d go as far as to say I like.”

“Oh really? Let me guess. She’s a dazzling cub reporter at CatCo. Golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, impeccable fashion taste?” Kara asked, grinning and pointing at herself exaggeratedly, not quite appreciating Alex’s snort or Maggie’s not-so-subtle shake of her head. She opened her mouth to tell off her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, but before she could, Lena smiled softly and derailed all of Kara’s thought processes.

“Well, I was going to say Lois Lane, but yes, you’re a close second.”

“A—a close second? To Lois?” Kara spluttered indignantly, mouth falling open in offense. “Was she the one to write stories about the phoenix-like rebirth of L-Corp and the CEO that spearheaded its rise? No. That was me. All me.”

“But that corruption article—” Lena said, not even bothering to hide her laughter as Kara stared at her in betrayal. “I’m joking,” she said when Kara went as far as to push her plate of pizza away, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Alex snorted again. “Your articles are wonderful, I’m so grateful for them, Kara.”

“I didn’t write them as a favor,” Kara mumbled, turning her head and glaring at Alex, daring her to let out another snort. “I wrote them because it’s the truth. You rebuilt LuthorCorp from the ground up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Ugh,” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Maggie, that’s our cue to leave. They’re going to be gross again. Compliments thrown back and forth, no you hang up first,” she tacked on in an affected voice.

“You don’t give me any compliments,” Maggie said, almost petulantly, while Kara found herself unable to do much more than open and close her mouth repeatedly, no response ready on her lips.

“Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. It’s their foreplay.” Alex grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her out of the apartment, leaving Kara and Lena alone at the table.

“So,” Lena said, sipping calmly from her plastic cup of wine, “when do you think Alex will remember this is her apartment?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to steal all her vinyls.” She paused her plotting and stared at Lena thoughtfully. “Is Lois really your favorite reporter?”

“Of course not,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand, as charming, clever, and confident at twenty-eight as she’d been at eight years old, merely amplified by the years that had passed, still managing to leave Kara in awe with nothing but a smile. “You’re always my favorite, Kara. In everything.” The words brought her heart to a thudding stop. Her eyes were fixed on Lena’s lips.

(She was going to do it. She was going to stand and lean in, she was going to settle that voice in her head and that thrumming in her chest once and for all. She would know, know for sure how Lena felt, all she had to do was be brave in this single moment—gather all her courage and ask onesimple question, hope to whatever was out there that Lena would nod, would say yes, would dispel of words entirely and close the distance between them.

She was going to do it, she was going to do it.)

The door swung back open and Kara was rooted to her seat.

“Can you believe Alex forgot this was her apartment?” Maggie laughed as she approached the table, frowning as she took in Kara’s face and then Lena’s. “Are you two okay? You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“F-fine,” Kara stammered, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s lips and forcing a smile. “I just said I was going to steal all of Alex’s vinyls.”

“I heard that!” Alex called from the door, letting it swing shut behind her. “But you know, if you do manage to pull it off, it might even outdo the roof thing. But nothing can top the Paint Incident,” she tacked on dreamily.

Maggie and Lena laughed, familiar with both stories, and Kara sighed, unable to help it when her gaze flicked briefly over to Lena.

She felt her courage fade, felt the moment slip past her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but sigh. But when she did, it wasn’t Alex who looked at her quizzically and in worry. She was too busy rolling her eyes at something Maggie was saying. Instead, it was Lena who looked at her in concern, eyes wide and pleading—wordlessly asking if she was okay, back in sync for the first time in years.

(At the very thought, Kara felt much of that courage race right back.)

x

It was very late or very early, Kara wasn’t quite sure which, and she and Lena were lounging on the couch in Lena’s office, leaning heavily on each other, Lena’s work long forgotten. It’d been quite some time that they’d had nights (mornings?) like this, Lena calling her because she felt her world spiraling, and Kara the only one who could stop the spinning for even a moment. Sometimes there were tears, more often there was total silence, Lena tightly grasping her hand until Kara couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

This morning (last night?), Lena had just buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, not saying a word for hours as Kara rubbed her back and muttered nonsense under her breath just hoping to ease whatever Lena was dealing with this time.

“Do you remember Jack?” Lena asked suddenly, bringing up her ill-fated whirlwind romance from their last year in college without prompting. Kara nodded hesitantly, wincing a little internally as she thought about all the anger she’d directed towards such a perfectly decent guy, wondering if she should call him up one day and apologize—admit she’d been jealous and she’d really had nothing against him. Then again, to admit that to Jack would mean she’d first have to admit those feelings to Lena, and she wasn’t quite sure if that would ever happen—at least, if her track record was any indication. “I really wanted things to work out with him. Thought if I could focus on him and my studies, I could forget about everything else.”

Kara’s breath hitched and she swallowed hard. Admittedly, it hurt to hear Lena say something like that. Because around that same time, Kara was feeling lost, had needed her best friend, and had been left unmoored and aimlessly floating away from shore in Lena’s absence. It hurt to hear that Lena’s distance had been intentional.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to ask why?”

“Would you answer?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted softly, tucking her head more comfortably under Kara’s chin.

“Why did you lie about where you were going for Christmas?” Kara asked instead, voice barely a whisper, unsure even now if she should bring it up. Lena stiffened slightly, then inhaled deeply, relaxing just as suddenly.

“My mother told me she wanted to make up, start over. She told me she knew she strained our relationship and wanted to fix it.”

“Did she?”

“No. As it turned out, she just wanted me to spy on Lex for her.” Lena cleared her throat and pulled away from Kara, shifting so that she was sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Besides, after working at LuthorCorp for a few months after graduation, it was obvious Lex was up to something, and it was obvious she was trying to hide his mess for him. She was just trying to use me as a pawn—I was disposable, you see.”

“You’re not disposable,” Kara immediately argued, not sure if she liked the way Lena laughed in response—like she found the comment inherently flawed, but couldn’t bring herself to explain just how wrong Kara was.

“I’m not sad, Kara,” Lena explained gently, shrugging when Kara looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not.” She shrugged again, seemingly not caring that Kara had been rendered speechless. “I’ve known what my mother is my whole life.” Her head tilted to the side, and she studied Kara so intently for a moment that Kara was sure she was reading every single secret Kara had buried away deep in her heart for safekeeping. “But then you just waltzed in one afternoon and forced my dad to take a stand.” She reached out and took Kara’s hand, squeezing tightly, eyes showing no hint of melancholy. And it was a beautiful sight. “I’m not sad, because whatever my mom has done, I’ve always known I had you.” She smiled then, something changing in her expression, something Kara sometimes saw in her own reflection. “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just…me.”

“You’re my hero,” Lena said, grinning when Kara gave her another disbelieving look, finding it difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart, though she was giving it a valiant attempt. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Metropolis?”

(And oh Kara felt her courage fail her at this critical moment. She felt it escape her in a flood, a mass exodus of bravery in the face of such overwhelmingly terrifying prospects. Because an admission could lead to reciprocation. It could lead to a moment she’d imagined again and again and again. Or it could lead to horrifying and awkward rejection, a friendship she treasured and missed dearly when it was out of reach—when it felt shattered beyond repair—becoming lost forever.

And oh Kara stared at Lena and she found she’d brave any enemy, any storm, any short, grubby, sniffling bully if only it meant she’d have a chance to keep Lena in her life.)

“It’s hard to get over someone when they’re in the same city as you,” she found herself saying, a non-answer that she thought said entirely too much. (Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“You and James were really good for each other,” Lena nodded, and it was the way she looked at the ground, the way she released Kara’s hand, the way she swallowed, the way her eyes grew sad that Kara finally, finally, saw what Alex had seen, what James had seen, what even gross Mike had seen. “It makes sense that he’s hard to get over,” Lena added, a pinched expression on her face, one that Kara caught even if most of Lena head was turned away.

(Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“Actually, Lena,” Kara began slowly, heart racing, “I wasn’t talking about James.” Lena turned to her in shock, eyes wide, and of course Kara began to ramble, stomach swooping up and down and feeling as if the blood rushing through her veins was on fire. “He was wonderful. He is wonderful, I mean. But he’s not wonderful for me. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s perfect. But it’s really hard to love someone the right way when you’re in love with someone else and I—”

“I was jealous of James!” Lena blurted, apparently quite surprised by her own interruption. “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to hear about him. I’d be jealous of anyone you were with. So I avoided you, because I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know if I could hide how I felt—”

“—I hated Jack,” Kara confessed. “And that girl from France, the one you met before we started college, I hated her on principle, and James told me I’m not capable of hate, but they had you and I hated them and—”

Lena interrupted her again, this time by grabbing her face and pulling her forward, her lips on Kara’s making it quite difficult to talk at all. It was awkward and needy and full of a pent-up sort of want and it made Kara’s head spin, it fried all her nerves, it left her permanently incapable of any sort of rational thought. Because Lena—her best friend, Lena—was kissing her.

“Wait, wait,” Kara said suddenly, pulling away from Lena’s kisses, unable to help her smile at Lena’s groan, “so are you anti-love?” Lena’s eyes, which had been closed, opened lazily, and she blinked at Kara in confusion, seemingly unsure what they were talking about. “You said you didn’t believe in love,” Kara elaborated, feeling her ears heat up because as far as she knew, she’d admitted she loved Lena, but Lena had just admitted feelings, and what if she was making a fool of herself, reading too much into one kiss—even if said kiss was as singularly mind-blowing as Lena’s?

“I was nineteen,” Lena admitted softly, and she reached out with a hesitant hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Kara’s face and then cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing idle patterns into her skin. Kara felt rather than directed her eyes to flutter shut, felt rather than directed her head to lean into Lena’s hand. “I was bitter because I’d fallen for my best friend and I didn’t think she’d ever feel the same way.”

“So not temporary and finicky?”

“Not in my experience, no.”

“You know, if you hadn’t said that, if you’d just waited ten seconds, I was going to tell you how I felt that day.”

Lena didn’t answer for so long that Kara opened her eyes, only to be met with impossibly soft eyes.

“That’s okay,” Lena said finally, leaning forward to press her forehead against Kara’s. “I sort of like how our story ended up anyway.” And when Lena closed the last of the distance between them, pulling Kara into another kiss (being brave never felt so good), Kara couldn’t help but agree.

x

The next time they all got together, Kara and Lena were holding hands and sneaking not-so-sneaky kisses and gazing adoringly at each other, and upon seeing it, Alex first pretended to gag before she laughed uproariously, demanded champagne in celebration, and told anyone who’d listen that she’d called it from the day she found out that Kara alternated her time between drawing puppies and Lena.