#neat thought exercise!

[mangle-my-mind]

writing patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks @autumnsup for tagging me! I'm gonna tag @silverfactory @holy-loki @thomtrebond and anyone else who wants to give this a go.

I only have 7 posted fics, but that should be enough to notice patterns, right?

"'Piss off, then! Go on! Back to your wolves! Your junkie twerps! Your bloody shock treatment! And fuck you too!"' - In Berlin (lol, just a quote from Velvet Goldmine)

"For anyone who came for the first time, this back room was always a disappointment." - Live, No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

"It's the little differences that make today seem special. Really, if one doesn't think about it for more than a millisecond, it's just another Wednesday, isn't it?" - Toss Me the Time, Lay Me You're Mine

"I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end,/ But I do not talk of the beginning or the end." - To Dash Reckless and Dangerous (a Leaves of Grass excerpt)

"The Palm Court’s open and airy and decadent, and stuck in time." - Borne Back Ceaselessly

"Curt’s a fiend for TV. That’s one of the many things Arthur’s learned about him over the past few months." - These Vintage Years

"Curt wakes up with someone else in his bed for the third day straight." - Your Eyes to the Ground and the World Spinning Round Forever

Hmmm okay so there are two instances where I started with quotes, but one was sorta diegetic to the story and one was more of a mood-setter that reoccurs throughout the work. Aside from that, I think I like my opening lines to be a little open-ended, or lead to questions, which would (ideally) hook a reader in. #2 - why is this room a disappointment? Where are we, anyway? #3 - what does make today special? #5 - what do you mean, stuck in time? This description starts so positive and then gets interjected - what does it mean? #6 - what else has Arthur learned about Curt? #7 - who's in Curt's bed? I don't know how effective these efforts have been, but it seems to be something I consistently do.

[floorpancakes]

big fan of headcanoning that kid doumeki killed the class chicken because nobody else wanted to and he was already being picked on for being Inexplicably Weird and Smelling Like Death so his classmates probably thought it would work as a bullying tactic. he handled it like a champ and it makes sense that he would but it's still kind of sad

[momochizoey]

January 3rd

-Crack!-

“Adora!”

Catra dashed across the soccer field as the referee blew their whistle, coming to a stop in front of her balled up girlfriend.

She looked her over and grimaced. Adora’s right ankle was bent unnaturally, broken from the force with which she slammed into the goalposts. That was gonna be a hospital visit for sure, and knowing Adora she would be stressing about how the recovery was going to impact her study schedule within the hour.

She murmured reassurances as she cradled her head, until the medics rushed in to move her to the stretcher, at which point she squeezed Adora’s hand and reluctantly let go, racing towards the changing rooms.

She quickly grabbed Adora’s Greyskull bag, checking if it had everything, or if she’d have to drop by their apartment later.

‘Clothes, check, estradiol, check, planner, check, Gideon the Ninth to distract herself, check. Alright, go-time.’

Slamming the door behind her and scattering two of their concerned teammates, she jumped into the back of the ambulance just before the doors closed.

Before one of the medics could argue, Adora latched onto her hand with a vice-grip.

“Please don’t leave again,” she pleaded.

“Never.”

[crook3d-man12]

Gynecologist

Dad is taking you to the office where he works. Mostly because it's summer so you don't have to go to school anymore and partially because it's your yearly wellness exam.

You've had wellness exams the past two years. It's nice because when you have your appointment it's in the summer and you can stay with Dad at the office all day long.

The receptionist is there already and two of the nice nurses that have worked there for years now. They all greet you and Dad. Saying good morning doctor. They greet you separately, calling you little guy and kiddo.

"Come on, boy," father says as he leads you back the hall and into his office. This room is connected to the exam room. The thought of going in there makes you excited.

"Alright, go on in, strip naked for me," dad says as he places his bag down. His jacket comes off and he hangs it on the coat rack. You nod and remove yourself into the separate room. There is a chair, that is where you put your clothes, folded nice and neat with your panties sitting on the top.

You turn to the table, well it's kind of a chair. The one where the legs come out and you put your feet in them. What are they called?

"Ready?" Dad asks. You scramble to get yourself up into the chair so you can reply. Sitting in the device makes your pussy wet. "Ready!" you call back.

He opens the door and enters to you already sitting in the chair. He smiles at your need to please him before he kicks the wheely stool closer to you. He sits down in it.

"How are you feeling? Any questions or concerns? anything out of the ordinary?" He's rolling up his sleeves. He's putting on his teal green gloves because you're allergic to the vinyl ones that he normally uses.

"I don't think there's anything. I mean I've had a little bit of pain while doing my stretching exercises."

"Which dilator are you on? If you're following the directions, there should be almost no pain."

Dad sits on the stool, grabbing your ankles to put them into the holders. "What are those called, Dad?" "Stirrups. Directions. Are you following them?"

"I'm on the fourth, I followed the directions."

"Good, scoot your bottom down, bud." Your heartbeat quickens and you follow his command, sliding your butt to the very edge of the seat. The paper crunches as you do so. "Oh my, you're very wet, aren't you?" You suck in a breath as Dad places his hands on your inner thighs.

The gloves are cold and you don't tense up. "Well look at that, you are very clean." The comment makes you smile. He removes his hands from your thighs, there is a tray on a table nearby, he pulls it toward him with his foot.

You can't see all the tools, but you hear a package tearing, then a wet squirt. "The lubricant will be slightly cold." Dad's gloved hand is now resting on you thigh again, palm down.

The other hand with his fingers covered in lube is resting just near enough that you can feel the presence, the temperature change. You suck in a sharp breath. "I'm going to touch you now. Tell me how everything feels." You nod and the cold lube touches your boy cunt. You let out a whiny noise.

He circles your clit, rubbing the lube all over the outside. "That's good, Dad." He says nothing, just continues to rub and tease all of your folds, your clit. He even circles your hole, it's slow. He barely pushes in his finger before pulling it out again.

He stands and places his free hand on your tummy. "I'm going to have to press down, remember?" You nod, the feeling of his big hand on your stomach.

This time he pushes his finger inside. It slides in easily and he decides it would be easier to explore with two fingers. He pulls out, "Two fingers now sweetie." He pushes them inside and curls them upward. It makes you gasp.

The feeling of his thick gloved fingers is something you think about often. When he presses on your stomach, right above your pubic bone you can't help the noise that escapes your mouth. He's now moving his fingers in and out of your tight cunt.

It feels good to have him so deep inside you like this. Even if it is just his fingers. The pressure on your tummy and the movements of his fingers is making you get close. His head moves between your legs now. His hot breath spreads over your cunt as he uses his mouth now to lick you.

It's slobbery and wet and the best thing you've ever felt. You babble his name as you buck your hips to get more motion. This puts more pressure on your bladder.

"Dad... D-dad... I'm gonna pee!" You're panicking now but he keeps going. Licking you hard and fast with the broad area of his tongue. His fingers pump in and out of you and he doesn't seem to care that you have to pee. Maybe he wants you to. It gets to be too much, the pressing, the pumping.

You let out a shrill little noise as you shake. This is it. You can't hold it anymore. It comes from you with so much force that you freeze in place. Dad just keeps going with the examination. Lapping up everything that came from your little cunt with his greedy tongue.

A whine escapes you. Dad slows down and eventually pulls his fingers from you. "Everything looks good, Kid."

[sharkylass]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

(It's not belated what are you talking about-) With the spooky day I bring...

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

--------------------------------------- There's A LOT OF ART under the cut, however it's A LOT OF SPOILERS.

ESPECIALLY FOR THE ACT 6 ENCOUNTER/TWO HATS, EVERYTHING IN THIS POST IS DEPENDANT ON THE FACT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT ENCOUNTER. [MASTERPOST]

(The dandelions are frozen in time) (...) (You envy them, but you think that's sacrilege, so you move on.)

The gif takes forever to load, please bare with me-

ALRIGHT, LET ME INTRODUCE YOU TO ROBORO.

Roboro (it/they/he) is cold and calculative. It spent so long trying to get out of the loops, that a lot of their tact and bubbliness gave way to their cynicism and bluntness.

They exhibit more of their younger traits. Extreme smarts and avoidance. However, they still carry themselves tall, and aren't afraid to speak their mind. Most of the time, they simply choose not to.

The decision to make him cold and distant, rather then manic and erratic, actually came from Loop themselves. Loop is very actively trying to be the opposite of Siffrin. They act chatty and cruel because that's how far they've been driven, that's how they choose to hide themselves now.

Roboro is the same, in the sense that it's supposed to appear the very opposite of Isabeau.

"Why is it a Dandelion?"

From what I've seen, most people lean on the space idea for the guides, and I find that super neat-

But as an exercise (before this AU was even an IDEA in my mind-) I tried to design Mira, Odile and Isa as guides.

I tried the space theme, and felt really limited with it.

So instead I decided to design them based of ways to wish

Mira was a fire (candle)

Odile was a coin (throwing a coin in a fountain/well)

And Isabeau WAS in fact a dandelion (blowing on a dandelion)

And I guess that idea just stuck around in my brain until I got to making this au.

Their Dynamic With Isa

The two's dynamic isn't too dissimilar to Sif and Loop. Isa still tries to be his loud positive headstrong self, and Roboro sees past the bullshit, and grinds Isa's gears

(Fun fact for that second one: Roboro knew Isa wanted to be called "good boy" cause it probably would have wanted to hear it too-) As time goes on, the two learn to get along if only a little. Isa starts to appreciate the bluntness of Roboro, together with the helpful tips. Roboro meanwhile, seeing Isa's descent starts to feel a spark of empathy for the guy (which sucks for ACT 5 whoops.)

Silver Coin Equivalent

The equivalent is called "Lucky Pencil". Isa is a pretty superstitious guy, despite knowing better logically. So I thought he'd totally be the type to carry around a lucky charm of sorts!

(You recall.) (Before you all went on this journey, you tried to become a defender.) (You got so tired of being the lone kid, the one people would always overlook.) (You were smart, but unperceived.) (Quiet, sure, but you had good grades! What's there to worry about?) (Even your own family didn't think much of your solitude.) (And yet, you were so scared to open your mouth, even to questions you knew the answers to-) (It was hard. Suffocating even.) (When teachers started giving you good grades without you even having to try-) (Something had to change. You had to change.) (And you did! You became stronger, resilient, reliable. Became the very antithesis of what you used to be.) (Left everything you were behind.) (But it was worth it! You could finally!!! Talk!!! You could bring smiles to people's faces! They'd brighten when you entered a room! And each time you felt pride. Pride in who you were.) (You tried talking with your family more, being more open, loud-) (They still. Didn't see you.) (Smart folks turned away, believing you to be unable to intellectually connect with them.) (It was better. You were happier. But you still didn't belong, either.) (In hallways filled with people, you were still just there.) (…) (You tried really hard for you Defender exam. You exercised to near faints. Only really ate and slept cause you knew it would make you stronger.) (Buried your nose in reading and studying to avoid thoughts of doubt. And when they'd reach you anyways, you'd go for a run.) (You know it wasn't the best for you. You're supposed to be stupid, not unwise. "Just until I pass" you told yourself.) (… You were exhausted on your exam day. As your nerves heightened, so did your "coping". You were ready!!! You just, needed a little help.) (So you opened your drawer, filled with old papers and textbooks and notes. You don't like looking in there too much, but you took what you needed.) (A beaten up pencil. Your little lucky charm!!! Sure, you always knew the answers, but it was easier if you believed this pencil was helping you, guiding you.) (It was silly to think it would help, but you weren't taking chances.) (…) (Even after all that time, you couldn't leave that part of yourself behind.) (You still can't.) (You're the only one that can't.)

ACT 6 FIGHT

The ACT 6 encounter would... go about as well as you'd expect. Not only did a version of you win- it's the version of you that pretends to be a meat head, the one that's preoccupied with being nice rather then thinking ahead. How did he get to win when you, you who's changed, you who's given everything you had, everything you wanted to simply get out?

Why does he get to win? Why does this loud mouth, emotional, explosive guy get to win? He's learned nothing!---

I have more stuff to draw for this encounter, including the "I'm sorry/ thank you" pictures. I leave this one off with the knowledge that Isa used to tug on his hair as a stress stim. Guess is stuck around huh.

______________________

Post Loops Roboro

Roboro, once again, Changes! This time to resemble a yellow dandelion, rather then a white one. The family is long gone by the time Roboro wakes up again, and first thing's first- It has to find clothes. It doesn't like the weird looks people give him.

So, he goes to the House, braves the looks and gasps and confusion. It's trauma be damned, it's gonna talk to that Head Housemaiden finally.

He meets up with Euphrasie, and she quickly catches on what must be going on.

She's readily willing to give Roboro one of her old dresses-

Problem being- 1. They are too big on it (he may be Tall, but not EUPHIE level tall-) and 2. It wouldn't be the most comfortable wearing a dress around.

So, they figure they should make some adjustments. Euphrasie is willing to make the adjustments, it would only take her a day or two.

However, Roboro kind of... wants to try to do it themselves. There's no rush, it has nowhere to be. Maybe... maybe learning to re-engage with an old hobby could be good for it...?

Euphie excitedly lets it stay at the House, figure out what it wants to do- to take it's time changing!

Obviously, Roboro has trauma from the House. The walls, the cramped space- it terrifies them. But they also don't want to stay at anyone's home in Dormont, the awkwardness would kill him, if feeling like a nuisance doesn't do it first.

So. Roboro stays at the rooftop.

Roboro does some sewing on a new outfit, at the top of the House. At the very end of everything.

It's a bittersweet reminder that it's over, so it's as good as it could get while staying at Dormont.

I have a whole comic about this in particular, but this is already a massive infodump so I'm gonna stop it there for now-

Roboro travels around a while. It and Isa agreed to meet up eventually, but there was no rush to it.

He went around a while, re-familiarized itself with life, with people, with hobbies, with existing-

Probably made some friendships along the way. Those are probably the people who pushed it into reconnecting with the family.

I'm not gonna go into detail about everyone's dynamics and stuff, this is too long, and I'm still writing that stuff anyway.

I can however leave you with this:

(I might change how Post Loops Isa looks in the future, I haven't quite figured it out yet)

______________________

PHEW

THAT WAS A LOT

IT'S NOT EVEN EVERYTHING I HAVE, I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF AUGH,,,

Anyways, I just wanted to thank you all for the support on the first post, I didn't expect it at ALL Just know I appreciate it :]

[spinosacha]

Sorry for the awkward crop but I am cooking.

But seriously, it is so facinating that this is such a defined trope. Like there are so few butches in media so the fact that three of them have so much in common is telling. I think it's interesting how these masculine characters are disempowered when masculinity is often associated with power in male characters. These women however are masculine while being trapped and limited.

Often these characters masculinity is even shaped by their disenfranchised position, i.e they have to fight to survive and thus become tough. None the less they also take pride in their gender expression and physical adeptness. This relationship to fighting is complex, it's both something they find some agency in, something Gideon and Vi could work on even while being trapped in a small confined space, but also something that is forced upon them, especially in the case of Karlach.

In the societies they are from, people with real power get to avoid getting their hands dirty themselves. Fighting is power exercised on a lower plane of society so even when the characters themselves can look physically imposing and threatning that doesnt translate to actual privilegde.

This link between oppression and masculinty can be relatable for butches and I think it’s a facinating way to make the characters expression translate well into our experience marginilzation. I also really appreciate how these characters are very compassionate and protective people, traits a lot of butches identify with and tie to their butch identity.

Not to get all anthropological about it but it makes sense that the characters who are confined to operate in a more fragmented plane of society also are very attached to their close community. In this sense, being traditionally masculine by being a good fighter, is related to their protective and compassionate qualities since both fighting and kinship takes place in very localised personal spheres.

I think this trope is a really neat exploration of how power isnt as binary as "femininity is opressed while masculinity is franchised" but that the intersection of identity massively changes the implications of masculinity and femininity.

That being said, we could really use some butch nerds. Desperatly, like I am begging. Like the type that would spend free time analysing fictional character on tumblr.

Edit: it has come to my attention that the ninth is indeed located underground, which I kind of thought but was unsure about, but anyway just imagine that “has spent a lot of time underground” is in the inner circle

The specificity of this trope continues to amaze me

[mountaesan]

of pomegranates and love stained fingers ; p. sungho 

pairing. idol!park sungho x reader genre. fluff , est. relationship , lots n lots of domesticity ! synopsis. in which sungho shows you that love could be found at an ordinary kitchen table , amidst a mess of pomegranate peels and love stained fingers word count. 1.9k warnings. nudity and bathing in a non-sexual context , a lot of inner dialogue , sungho is… such a gentleman i actually might have fallen in love with him while writing this (yes this is a warning) playlist. the way that i am by abby powledge  notes. this is. so. so. so. self indulgent. but oh to be loved and to be seen by park sungho (◞‸◟)

Pomegranates are a contradiction wrapped in a tough, leather-like skin. 

On the outside, they’re unassuming. Their ruby-red hue is muted by a dull, almost dusty sheen, like they’ve been brushed by centuries of history. But break one open, and it’s utter chaos. Vivid, gleaming seeds spilling out in clusters, their translucent walls catching the light like small, blood-red jewels.

The juice is relentless. It stains fingers, clothes, and countertops with a color so intense that it almost feels alive, impossible to tame. 

And it doesn’t simply mark, it claims. Eating one is an exercise in both patience and surrender. Each seed is a burst of a tart sweetness that’s worth the mess, but it leaves you wondering how something so beautiful can also be so unruly.

That was exactly why you loved pomegranates. They were a little wild, a little untamed. It was in the way the juice stained your fingers, leaving behind traces of something alive and uncontainable. It’s how every seed is a burst of flavor: tangy, sweet, and unapologetically bold. For you, pomegranates were a reminder that the best things in life aren’t always neat or simple; they’re messy, vivid, and unforgettable.

Back in your adolescence, when you were still a hopeless romantic and believed in fate and soulmates and such, you had a theory: that anyone willing to peel a pomegranate for you was to be the one. The one the universe had assigned you—your soulmate. The person you’re meant to share the messiness and beauty of life with, because, let’s be honest, peeling a pomegranate isn’t just an act, it’s a labor. 

It’s tedious, requiring patience and precision to carefully break apart the tough skin without crushing the delicate seeds. The juice inevitably smears, the tiny ruby jewels scatter, and by the end, it looks like a small battlefield in the kitchen. 

You thought of it as a test of devotion. Who else would endure the sticky fingers, the risk of stains, and the painstaking effort, all for the sole purpose of handing over a bowl of gleaming seeds? Your theory wasn’t about the pomegranate itself, it was about what it represented: the willingness to take on something cumbersome and time-consuming just to bring joy to someone else.

In your teenage mind, peeling a pomegranate was love distilled into action. A quiet, unspoken declaration that said, ‘I see the things you cherish, even the messy, difficult ones, and I want to be a part of them.’

So you used to wait, watching the people in your life with a careful eye, jokingly tossing your theory at dinner tables and gatherings but secretly hoping and wondering if someone might one day sit down, pick up a pomegranate, and show you that love can be as simple, and as profound, as peeling fruit. 

But as you grew older, your pomegranate theory began to feel like a relic of a softer, more naive version of yourself. You used to imagine someone peeling away the tough, leathery rind, their hands stained red with love and effort, and thought to yourself, ‘that’s love.’ But with time, the weight of practicality started to take hold. 

Your theory about pomegranates, something you once held close with a spark of whimsical belief, soon became just another one of those silly little things that poets and hopeless romantics dreamed up.

So, you tucked your silly theory away in a dusty corner of your mind, dismissing it as an innocent fantasy of your youth. You searched for love that was grounded, sensible, and serious about the practicalities of life. You looked for someone who could handle the demands of life without the weight of romantic idealism like yours clouding their judgement. 

There was no room for mess or chaos anymore, certainly not for the kind of love that required peeling pomegranates, both literally and metaphorically.

A loud slam of your front door made your ears perk up and you heard the familiar rustling of your boyfriend’s clothes as he shuffled through the living room. You could almost envision the way he shrugged off his outer coat before neatly hanging it on the coat hanger by the entryway.

“Baby? I’m home!” 

“In here!” you called out. The bathwater lapped at your knees, forming small waves that crashed and fell against the porcelain wall of your bathtub. Sungho knocked on the bathroom door, but only out of courtesy, before he pushed it open and greeted you with a bright smile.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he knelt by the side of the bathtub to press a warm kiss to your forehead. 

“You’re home early.” you pointed out. A hand reached out to stroke your boyfriend’s cheek, a single droplet of water running down the slope of your arm and landing back in the bathtub with a small plop. 

“Mastered the choreography first so I could come home to you,” he replied, ever so gently leaning into the warmth of your palm. “Did you just start your bath?”

You nodded, the corners of your lips lifting at his sweet words. “Just a few minutes ago. You don’t have to keep kneeling like that, you know. Your knees are going to hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a chuckle. His gaze softened as he noticed the way the water cradled your form, the steam rising in delicate swirls around you. “Want some help?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Are you volunteering to join me?”

Sungho laughed softly, shaking his head. “Maybe next time, but I can still take care of you from here.”

Before you could respond, he reached for the loofah sitting on the edge of the tub and dipped it into the warm water before lathering it up with your favorite body wash. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he wanted to savor every second of this small, intimate moment. 

“You don’t have to, you know,” you murmured as he started gently running the loofah along your shoulder. His featherlight touch sent a slight shiver down your spine.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “But let me.”

His voice was so soft, so filled with love, that you couldn’t bring yourself to argue. You let out a small sigh of defeat and leaned back against the tub as he started gently running the loofah over your arms. 

Sungho’s touch was delicate, as though he was handling the most fragile thing in the world. The loofah glided over your arms, his hand following to rinse away the bubbles.

“You work so hard,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he moved to your legs. “You deserve this.”

The words made your chest tighten with emotion. “You’re too good to me,” you whispered.

“No such thing,” he said with a soft chuckle, his hand brushing the back of your calf. “Taking care of my partner is the easiest thing in the world.”

You let your head rest against the edge of the tub, closing your eyes as his hands continued their tender work. The care and love infused into every motion, the way he poured his entire being into making sure you felt safe, cherished, and adored made your heart squeeze tightly.

As he finished, Sungho pressed a soft kiss to your damp shoulder, his lips lingering for a moment. “All done,” he whispered, and you noticed a hint of pride in his voice.

“Thank you,” you said, meeting his gaze. 

Sungho smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anything for you, gorgeous. Always.”

He stood up and grabbed the big, fluffy towel from the nearby rack, shaking it out to fluff it up. “Alright, come on, let me help you out.”

You shifted in the tub, the water sloshing as you moved to stand. Sungho reached out instinctively, steadying you with his strong, gentle hands. His fingers pressed lightly against your arm and waist as he guided you to step out of the tub.

“Careful,” he murmured, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

The moment your feet touched the bath mat, he draped the towel around you, cocooning you in its warmth. You couldn’t help but giggle as he adjusted the plush fabric, tucking the edges around your shoulders like a protective shield.

“There we go. Let’s go get you dried up, and then we can go see the present I got you.”

The kitchen table was a mess—juice stains spreading across its surface, pomegranate seeds scattered among paper towels and discarded bits of rind. Sungho sat across from you, elbows resting on the table as he carefully pried apart another piece of fruit. His fingers were stained a deep crimson, the juice clinging to his skin and pooling in the small creases of his knuckles. 

“You’re making such a mess,” you teased, watching as he plucked a cluster of seeds free and placed them in a bowl.

He grinned, unfazed. “Worth it.”

He picked up a few seeds between his stained fingers, flicking away the stubborn bits of membrane, and brought them to your lips. “Here.” 

You let him feed you, the tart sweetness bursting on your tongue as he watched you with unspoken fondness. It wasn’t until you noticed the way his brows furrowed in concentration, focusing on getting a particular seed unstuck from the membrane, that it struck you how absurdly thoughtful this was.

“When did I even mention that I like pomegranates?” you asked, your voice softened with wonder and adoration.

Sungho glanced up briefly, his lips quirking up into a sheepish grin. “You told me once, when we first started dating. You were talking about how much you loved them as a kid. Said they were your favorite fruit, even though they’re a pain to eat.” 

You blinked, stunned. The memory was hazy even to you—just a passing remark in some forgetful conversation. But he’d remembered.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” you murmured, feeling your chest tighten with an unfamiliar mix of emotions.

Sungho shrugged, returning his attention to the pomegranate in his crimson stained hands. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I like seeing you happy.”

You looked down at the table and took in the chaos of it all: the stains, the mess, his juice-streaked hands, and something deep inside you shifted.

Suddenly, you were seventeen again with your heart wrapped in whimsical theories about soulmates and love.

This was it. This was what you had been searching for back then but had long stopped believing in. This was the kind of love you’d once dreamed of but had dismissed as a silly, adolescent fantasy. Yet, here it was, sitting across from you with juice-stained hands and a soft smile, proving you wrong in the most beautiful way.

Your teenage self had been right: peeling a pomegranate wasn’t just about the fruit. It was a quiet act of devotion, a willingness to embrace the mess and the effort for the sake of someone else’s joy.

Sungho broke your reverie by holding up another handful of seeds, his smile so effortlessly warm that it sent a pang through your chest.

“You don’t have to feed me,” you said with a small laugh, though your voice wavered slightly.

“I know,” he replied. His tone was gentle but resolute. “But let me.”

And as you opened your mouth for the next bite, you realized that love didn’t have to be a grand, sweeping gesture.

Sometimes, it was sitting at a messy kitchen table with stained hands and sticky fingers, peeling pomegranates because someone mentioned, just once, that they liked them.

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[meiguicha]

3.30 A.M

Phainon x Reader

While the rest of the world sleeps, you remain awake as you realise it's all too easy to love Phainon.

//i will be on the news if i dont get him that is a promise not a threat. no angst im kissing him on the forehead and holding him like a plush toy in my arms. also no proof read its phainon loving hours

It's quiet now. The revelry and chaos of the waking hours have long since died and yet here you are, far too awake and confused to even consider slumber as an option.

Looking off to the side, standing tall on your nightstand is a small vase carrying a bundle of flowers in its embrace. Light falls onto the soft powdery blue petals, revealing the veins of life beneath its gaze. Yet it isn't the flowers that has enthralled you so but rather the vessel that holds them. A note lays in your palm, neat handwriting scrawled across, the very source of your sleeplessness signing it off.

For the past months, you've been eyeing it at Theodoros' place and yet could never bring yourself to get it.

And perhaps you haven't been the most subtle about your longing for it, you're certain Theodoros had more than just noticed and has even started leaving it out for you to stare at like a soggy wet cat left out in the rain.

Yet still, the reason for this very vase being in your house is not one borne from your own action. Simply, you found it on your doorstep with this very note. Though some would exercise some caution in accepting random gifts off their doorstep, the moment you saw those flowers, you knew who it was from.

The pads of your fingers ghost over the note once more, trying, attempting to discern a deeper meaning from such an action.

'I noticed you kept looking back at this vase when we went out earlier this week, and you've been mentioning wanting to get some flowers for your room so I thought you would enjoy these!!

Don't worry, I checked the authenticity and it's a genuine artifact!! Looking forward to hanging out tomorrow <3

Phainon'

He even signed it off with his name, as if there's anyone else in the whole of Okhema who would even do this. As if there is anyone else in the whole of Amphoreus who would even think of ending a letter with a heart so casually.

Seriously, getting things for you like this, writing cute notes like this, it's almost like he wants you to fall in love with him—

It's weird. You don't understand what this feeling in your chest is.

Staring at the flowers, at the forget-me-nots, at the vase and the note, something in your ribs turns. Maybe it's always been there and maybe all this time, all it needed was a little push for you to realise.

How long you've felt like this, you don't know, you don't have to know. Merely the thought of that smile you have always loved, decorating his face in that boyish joy as he totes around the vase, hands so carefully placing such longing blooms into it, even a fool would be lovestruck.

Your head buzzes with static, instinct pulls at the tendons of your form; lets you reach for your teleslate and type out a message.

'Can I see you?'

A text bubble pops up immediately before disappearing, the three dots blink at you, almost taunting as it once more disappears. It's clear he's read it, but the teetering and tottering between response and absence is driving you crazy.

You spend who knows how long merely staring at the screen, bright light searing into your eyes watching the bubble pop in and out. Until eventually, it disappears altogether.

Tomorrow, all you can do is reassure yourself. Tomorrow, you'll figure it all out.

Turning off your teleslate, you're ready to resolve yourself for a restless slumber when there is a soft knock on your door. Hesitant, as if afraid, knuckles lingering on the wood before it comes again, just as cautious.

Your gaze shifts to the device by you once more, nothing. And for a moment, you almost wonder whether the knocking is but a delusion of your mind. Yet still, no matter your doubts, you make those tentative steps closer, closer, bring yourself to the door if only to cast away the doubt on your shoulders.

The sight that greets you, that welcomes you, is no one else but the very person in your thoughts. His hair is disheveled, face slightly flushed as he leans against the frame.

"Did you—" Dumbly, all you can do is ask, pretending that the dumbfounded look on your face is not at all there. "—did you run here?"

"You asked whether you could see me," He smiles, voice wavering ever so slightly.

To have come all the way here, in such short time, and what is clearly home wear, he seriously dropped everything just because you asked.

With a breathless quality to your already soft words, you just manage to shyly meet his gaze. "Thank you, for the vase. And the flowers."

Phainon's eyes, his gaze and regard are warm. When they bask over your form, a sensation perhaps only similar to that great star fills your very form and guides your veins. It makes you almost shy, nothing more than a teenager scribbling the initials of their crush and their own onto their homework.

"I love—" You have to catch yourself before your clumsy mouth spills what you can't handle. "I love them."

"That's great! I'm glad."

The corners of his eyes crinkle together, cheeks flushed ever more as he rubs the back of his neck. A small laugh even escapes his lips, and more than anything, you can't understand how seeing him like this can make your heart feel so full.

It is simple. So, so simple.

And as here he stands in front of you, real, whole, these emotions you have barely processed feel as though they are seeping out of your every orifice the more you dance around them.

As if sharing an illicit secret, quietly, you step closer, reach for his hand as you murmur, "Have I ever told you how much you mean to me?"

"Because— what you make me feel, how you make me feel, is not something I feel like I can ever explain." Squeezing his hand tighter, your eyes naturally meet his.

In this very moment, there is nothing else but you. Reflected in those sky-blue eyes, that which hold the greatest joy of them all, there truly is nothing but ardent and ever-devoted beholding.

"I don't know when you've become irreplaceble to me, whether as a friend or..."

Before you can finish your sentence, you're scooped into an embrace, arms wrapped tight around you as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against the tender skin, and yet so gentle that you can feel that organ in your ribs shudder. All you can do is return the gesture, to snake your arms around his form and feel his response through your chests.

""You don't know how happy I am to hear that from you," Radiant and hoarse all the same, Phainon's very words are sung into your skin.

A wet feeling tinges your nerves, and as he holds you tighter, until you can feel his heart knocking on the doors of your own, he whispers against you. "I was grateful I could be your friend but knowing that you feel the same..."

"Let me see you, please,"

He listens, and just as you suspected, tears dew at his lashes. Bringing a hand to cup his face, you meticulously wipe away his tears and even as his very breath splinters at the base, he lets you do so with no complaint or qualm.

Despite the tears, the joy on his very being is unmistakable, shining through everything.

And now, as Amphoreus sleeps, you smile knowing that it really is that easy. What's there to understand?

"Let's be happy together, Phainon."

[ducksido]

Heyo love ur writing <3

Just wanted to know like, how do you think the freshmen waste time together? Like…are there cuddle piles (that Sebek and Jack begrudgingly agreed to) or just games???

Here are my thoughts + one-shot >:) and thank you 💗💗

Cuddle Pile… or Something Like It

It started with Yuu, Grim, and Ortho—Grim wants warmth, Yuu is touchy, and Ortho thinks human bonding rituals are fascinating.

Epel joins in casually; he’s used to cousin-dog-piles back home.

Deuce hesitates but melts once he's in. Ace teases, but he ends up dead center.

Sebek yells about "dignity" and "respecting Lord Malleus’s honor"… as he slowly sits on the edge with crossed arms.

Jack grumbles about “personal space” but lies down next to them to "keep an eye on Grim."

Within 10 minutes, everyone’s asleep or talking softly. It's more of a blanket tangle than a neat pile, and Sebek is the first to wake up and pretend it never happened.

Game Nights:

Card games: Uno, but with magic. Grim eats a few cards.

Deuce plays earnestly. Ace cheats with sleight of hand.

Ortho is a walking game console and sometimes links everyone into a magical VR session.

Epel and Jack have fierce Mario Kart–esque battles. Yuu and Ortho add silly commentary.

Sebek is banned from Monopoly-type games due to one (1) table-flipping incident.

“Study” Sessions (with snacks)

They gather to “study” in Ramshackle. It turns into chaos: Grim steals food, Ace distracts Deuce, Yuu gives up and braids Jack’s tail, Ortho projects silly holograms.

Epel brings homemade snacks. Sebek tries to enforce structure but caves when Jack offers him jerky.

Impromptu Talent Shows

Ace and Epel do stupid magic tricks.

Ortho sings in autotune mode.

Yuu tries to juggle.

Jack accidentally breaks something.

Grim demands a “royal performance” as the host.

“Training” that becomes goofing off

Deuce and Jack take it seriously at first.

Sebek joins shouting about drills and discipline.

But then someone tackles someone (usually Ace or Grim), and it devolves into tag, dodgeball, or wrestling.

Epel usually wins the wrestling matches with surprise tactics.

Ortho logs their antics as “physical bonding exercises.”

ONE-SHOT

The wind howled outside the crumbling walls of Ramshackle Dorm, rattling the windows like some ghost desperate for attention. Inside, the eight of you were packed into the lounge like sardines in a soup can—warm, loud, and a little chaotic.

“Why are we doing this again?” Jack muttered, arms crossed, legs tucked uncomfortably on a couch way too small for his frame.

“Because it’s freezing, we have no classes, and my paws are turning into ice cubes,” Grim replied, aggressively burrowing under a blanket like a ferret on a mission. “Also, I called dibs on Yuu’s lap.”

You patted Grim’s head absentmindedly as he nestled in, your blanket spread across both of you. “It’s called bonding, Jack. Team-building. Memory-making.”

“It’s called wasting valuable training time,” Sebek snapped, standing stiffly near the window like a military guard on patrol. “Lord Malleus would never—”

“Sebek.” Deuce raised a hand like he was asking a question in class. “Would Malleus get mad if you had fun?”

“…That is irrelevant.”

“Then sit your dramatic butt down and join the cuddle pile, dude,” Ace called from the floor where he and Epel were already wrapped in twin blankets, playing a card game with Ortho acting as the dealer/projector.

Sebek growled something about “honor” and “dignity” and “protecting the weak,” but finally relented, settling with the rigidity of a plank onto the carpet beside Jack—who scooted a little away.

“I’m not cuddling,” Jack said firmly.

“No one asked you to,” Epel muttered. “You’re like a space heater anyway. Yer the one we all sit next to.”

“Guys, guys, I added new settings to the card game,” Ortho chirped, eyes flashing. “If someone cheats, their cards explode in glitter.”

“Wait what?!” Ace yelped just as his hand erupted into shimmering blue sparkles. “Ortho!”

“Gotcha,” Ortho giggled. “System integrity breach—cheater detected.”

“Not fair!” Ace wheezed, flailing his glitter-covered hands. “I was testing it for science!”

“Sure ya were,” Epel snorted. “Hey Yuu, tell Ace he’s banned from glitter-based games.”

You lifted your hand like a royal decree. “I hereby declare Ace Trappola: King of Sparkles and forever banished from sneaky card tricks.”

Ace groaned and flopped back dramatically onto Deuce’s legs, who pushed him off half-heartedly but didn’t try too hard.

The card game faded away as the warmth from the room settled in. The couch held you, Grim, and Ortho now—Grim asleep, Ortho humming softly while scrolling through some virtual screen projected in front of him. On the floor, Epel laid across Jack’s lap, clearly having claimed the wolf beastman as a mattress. Jack grumbled but let it happen. Ace used a spare pillow to lean against Sebek, who did not move, but also did not complain.

And Deuce?

Deuce had made a nest of throw blankets and was currently snoring quietly with a note stuck to his forehead: “Do Not Disturb—Future Honor Student at Rest.”

You didn’t even know who wrote it. Possibly Grim. Possibly Ace.

The wind kept howling, but inside the dorm, the only sounds were soft breathing, occasional snorts from Grim, and Ortho’s quiet humming.

No magic problems. No overblots. No exams.

Just a lazy afternoon with your crew. A still frame in a year of chaos.

You closed your eyes, warmth blooming in your chest.

Yeah. This was nice. This was home.

[lust4nero]

Let's Get Naughtier

RE2!Leon x AFAB!Reader

word count - 1.8k

tags - MDNI, not proofread, porn w plot, handcuffs, slight dom/sub undertones, switch!Leon exactly at the end, minimal dialogue (kinda), quick mention of a necktie used as a gag, vibrators, unprotected sex, p in v, riding, mention of hickeys

After 6 months of vigorous training at the police academy, Leon finally graduates as the top of his batch. Such an occasion calls for celebration and rewards, which may or may not involve an early use of his handcuffs— and not for police work.

6 months worth of sleepless nights, reliance on struggle meals, steady consumption of energy drinks, and missing out on important dates paid off: Leon has now graduated and is at the top of his batch. Pride swirled and swelled in your chest as you watched your boyfriend walk on stage, standing in front of the podium as he delivered his speech; he looked proud of himself and everyone, a fulfilled smile constantly gracing his face. Leon looked so neat in his graduation regalia, his dark navy uniform fitting him perfectly and adding an air of sophistication to him. At the end of the commencement exercise, the graduates are lined up on the field to be tapped out by loved ones; it’s easy to spot him, all smiles and rosy cheeks standing stiff at attention with his peers. As soon as your hand gently pats his shoulder, he rushes to engulf you in a bone-crushing hug; you two shed tears of shared joy and relief, thankful that all the sacrifices paid off in the end.

“Congratulations officer Kennedy,” you say. The words come out slightly muffled since your face is pressed against the crook of his neck. “I’m so proud of you, of this.”

“Thank you baby,” he says before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Even better, a confirmation notice from the RPD awaits Leon for his inclusion in their police force. For being such a hard worker and diligent cadet, acing every single theoretical test and field exercise, your sweet boyfriend is deserving of a reward. After an entire day spent at his favorite seafood restaurant with some pints of beer, you both stumble to your shared apartment. Not wanting to part with his warm lips, one hand of yours is dug into the back of the blond’s head whilst the other is patting the door for its knob to twist open; your lip gloss is smeared all over your faces and his tie is loosened– you both look like a mess but neither could care less: this night will be spent celebrating him.

You both stumble to the entrance of the apartment, hands tangled in messy hairs as you try to pull each other impossibly closer. Shoes are kicked off without a second thought, thudding and bumping against the wall as you slip Leon’s jacket off of his shoulders, dropping it on the floor. Your hands frantically untuck his dress shirt from his slacks, warm palms slipping beneath to touch heated skin. Nimble fingers fumble with zippers and buttons, nails scraping slightly against cloth-clad spines. Teeth graze collarbones and moans break the air, lips swollen and tingling as you barely pause through the overwhelming  and all-consuming intensity of it all. The urgency burns, expressed through the desperate grinding of clothed hips. You bump into several pieces of furniture, nearly stumbling out of balance, as you make your way to your shared bedroom; more layers of clothing are shed, leaving behind a trail. The frenzy drives Leon to lay you down a little too swiftly, determined to please you but you remind him that this night is entirely about him.

“We’re celebrating you, Leon. I’ll be the one treating you good tonight, okay? So just lay back and let me take care of you, officer Kennedy.”

Clothes are astrewn on the floor, articles of clothing flung to various corners of the room. Leon’s black necktie is used as a gag, his work cuffs being put to an early use by binding him to the headboard; his dress shirt is off but his slacks are still on, though the belt is unbuckled with the zipper down and barely hanging on his hips. His black boxer brief is tented at the groin, his twitchy cock trying to poke out. You’re completely naked on top of him, a sight to behold; he missed the sex, giving it up in favor of all-nighters studying for tests. You’re torn between keeping him gagged and wanting to hear his horny rambles, eventually deciding on removing the black accessory from his mouth.

“F-Fuck,” he whispers. “Missed this so much.”

“Me too,” you affirm before giving his ear lobe a nibble.

Teasing him a little more you trace the stiffness of him with your index finger, circling around the head and pressing a little harder to apply deliciously frustrating friction. He gently sways his hips, silently begging you to free him from his confines and have your way with his sensitive body.

The tiny sliver of silver light filters through a tiny gap in the curtains, his dog tags catching the light and reflecting it back in a white flash. Acting on the idea that flashed in your mind, you gently tug on the chain and draw Leon closer without causing him to strain harder to the point of actual discomfort with his bound wrists. The motion flusters him, frosty sapphire irises darting everywhere but your face. Cinching his puffy and pink cheeks with your fingers, you force him to meet your gaze before drawing him in a sloppy kiss that’s nearly tongue alone. After a little more whining and begging, you finally have mercy and peel it off of him; after all, this is his reward for being such a diligent cadet and he deserves to feel good. Once he’s completely bare from the waist down, he lets out a groan of satisfaction. You part with him temporarily, reaching over to one of the desks of the bedside stand to fish out a vibrator.

“B-Baby, where are you going?” He whines.

“Just getting something,” you say in a soft sing-song voice though he detects the lustful undercurrent of it.

Once Leon realizes, his cheeks flush the same deep rosy hue as the head of his glossy cock.

Switching it on and setting it to a medium vibration pace, you trail it from his nipples and bring it south to swirl around his sensitive tip.

“A-Ah…” Leon vocalizes. “P-please, I’m so hard for you...”

His back arches like a cat’s, wrists straining against the cuffs but he doesn’t want to escape– never, not when he’s in this kind of heaven. The toy moves to buzz against his twitchy shaft before swirling around his taut balls, tugging needy whines from him; he’s only ever had toys used on you so a vibrator being used on him is a first time and he’s enjoying it too much to make it his last time as well.

“N-no,” he sobs as he tries to inch his hips away from the toy. “Don’t wanna c-cum early baby, please– wanna last…” “Don’t wanna cum yet?” You ask even though he’s already said it, just to edge him a little more. He nods furiously, kiss-swollen lips frowning at you in a silent plea.

“Since you asked so nicely.” You turn the vibrator off, lowering the intensity of the vibrations before totally turning it off; it would be a shame to make him cum before he’s even inside your welcoming cunt.

On a regular day you would’ve overstimulated him to the point of a dry orgasm but you decide against it, letting him use this as a means to let out the stress that built up the past few months. After giving him a few pumps with your hand and sucking him off for a little bit, you align his crying cock with your sopping cunt. The squelch makes Leon tilt his head all the way back, exposing his lovebite-covered neck to you while his teeth dig into the puffy flesh of his lips; it takes everything in him not to blow his load, painfully holding off an orgasm just so you can also enjoy yourself.

He bottoms out and you stay still for a moment to give yourself a moment to adjust to the length of him; he isn’t girthy but what he lacks in width, he makes up for in length. Once you’re ready, you bounce yourself up and down on his cock. Moans, whimpers, and slapping of skin bounces off of the walls of your shared bedroom; you ride him madly, rubbing at your own clit to intensify the entire experience. Leon is bucking up on his own, his hips meeting you with each eager thrust he makes.

“J-jus’ like that baby,” you pant. “Fuck, it feels so good…”

Still sensitive from the toy, he knows he won’t last long if he’ll continue looking up at your blissed-out features– eyes shut in pleasure with brows furrowed as you focus on feeling good. He decides to close his eyes, forcing himself to temporarily occupy himself with something else other than the squeeze of your tight pussy around his cock. Seeing your boyfriend get increasingly worked up and horny has your pussy pulsing around his cock, gripping his length tightly as if he would slip out and never do this again. Feeling the squeeze of your walls earns a high whine from him, mind torn between fighting off a nearing orgasm or to give in and flood your welcoming heat with ropes of his hot spend.

Your lips collide, soft flesh sucked and bitten against soft flesh as tongues dance and swap spit. You take his lower lip between your lips and tug it gently with your teeth, watching his blown-out blues roll at the back of his head. The moment you part, a thin string of saliva connects your mouths as Leon moves to place bites and hickeys on your neck and collarbone. Even with his lust-driven state, he’s careful enough to only mark up areas that are sure to be covered up by your work clothes. Feeling a lot more frisky, you lift his dog tags from his neck and wear it, the two metal plates dangling over his face as you ride him to no end; he exhales a weak and shaky ‘fuck’, feeling impossibly harder and horribly aroused than he previously was– if that was even possible. He’s close and you are too, harshly clinging on to his shoulders with your fingernails digging into his muscles while his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his huffing and panting speeding up with each erratic and irregular thrust.

“Close,” he sobs. “I’m close, ‘m n-not going to last…–”

“Me too, Leon. C’mon, I know you can do it for me.”

Planting his feet firmly into the mattress, he drives his hips up and snaps it harshly against your cunt with a dizzying pace as he catches up to that delicious high he’s been chasing.

“Gonna cum, g-gonna cum inside–”

Cock twitching, cum splatters inside and paints your walls white as juices of your own gushes out and slicks up his sensitive length. Tired, you take the key and unlock the cuffs to free him. You make the mistake of assuming that Leon is just as spent as you are, taken aback and by surprise when he flips the two of you over and drives his cock into your moist cunt again.

“I don’t plan on stopping tonight,” he whispers. “Not when I have you all to myself like this. We’re going to fuck like rabbits and you have no choice but to take it like the good girl you are.”

It’s going to be one crazy night that’ll unfold ahead and you’re certain that walking funny is going to be in your immediate future by the end of this.

NOTE - I'll get back to my usual fluff posts, I promise <3 lowkey hesitant to put this up on AO3 too because shortly after I posted, I got tag-teamed by 4 illnesses at the same time during the week of my tests and what's worse is that those 4 illnesses literally persisted wayyy longer than they were expected to-- I literally had a fever that lasted for more than a week when they're usually supposed to last for 3-4 days like bruh -_- I don't exactly believe in the AO3 curse but I don't want to push my luck ngl... okay yk what I'm going to post it on AO3 coz if I don't believe in the curse in the first place = it's not going to touch me :3 Also sorry if you expected real degenerate and freaky shit, it's relatively tame for now coz I'm dry on ideas coz school be sucking the life out of me (when I should be sucking the life out of Leon instead! >//<) :'< anyway, that's it and thank you for reading this <3 lmk what you guys think in the comments :)

[artfromsaturn]

Collection of Free Art Tutorials

I don't usually make text post on this blog, but a nice artist I know was asking for tutorials a while back and I forgot to send some to them while in school. So here's a post on it since it's easiest to grab and go this way. :)

This list focuses on the basics. I'm focusing on the foundations of art, so medium is generally irrelevant and you can use physical or digital with these. You'll have to google more specific tutorials on things like character design and such.

One of the biggest pieces of advice I can give to you is strangely, introduce things to yourself one at a time. In art class, we took whole topics week by week. For high school, we did a few exercises then spent a week drawing/painting and doing your piece(s). For basic art 1 & 2 in college, we did 1-2 exercises and then did 1-2 drawings, followed by HW (which we turned in next week) and sketchbook practice (which she'd check at midpoints). For basic art lessons with a tutor, we did practice then our own art. You can see the pattern here - the point is don't be distressed if you don't get everything at once, or the lesson in 2 weeks, or the lesson in 3 years - we practice and do a lot over time, and you'll pick up on things you need to improve naturally and through help with others. Take time to be proud of your art in mini steps too, even if it's not the best! You tried and attempting to climb an obstacle over and over again before finally leapfrogging it is still progress to it.

Overall tutorials:

DrawABox.com is a site that's dedicated to art exercises and practicing when you can. They talk about the basics of art as well as how practice is important. It can get tough at times and it's ok to stop and do a balance of say those practices and doodles if you choose to try and do all of it's stuff - but you don't have to either. It's just a nice basic education done by some art nerds who like going hard.

Ethering Brothers - these guys are famous for their 40billion tutorials. If you need help on a specific idea, search their gallery and you'll likely find something.

Thundercluck's Art Fundamentals - She did a good huge ass tutorials on how things work, and it's the least overwhelming of the 3 I got in this section, so I suggest it as one of the first to look at for digital stuff.

Art Instructions Blog - Another good & simpler website that goes great into fundamentals. They focus more on traditional art but if you're digital, you can replicate most of the techniques - art fundamentals and subjects cover all mediums. Very important

Drawsh - Particularly notes on Construction: construction is the basics of building an illusion of a 3D image on a page. Figuring out how to build shape gives depth to your work, and learning how to see in 3D lets you be able to draw an item then move it around in your head (sometimes, when you're good enough, don't be afraid to pull out a reference or use live subjects). Construction is how to figure out the foundation of your drawing, and good planning = better picture! This link starts at the back, hit newer post to go forward.

There's a lot on anatomy and other nitty gritty details for when you want to practice those as well.

Griz and Norm's Assorted tips - Long time artist talk about various tips and tricks they use in art and how to avoid certain pitfalls. It's eclectic but great to look through.

James Gurney's Blog - He's got a lot of thoughts, a lot of tips, and a lot of adventures he catalogues. It's the least organized out of these but fortunately he has plenty of tags and most post have something neat going on. He's fantastic!🥰

BEFORE ALL OTHER BASICS….

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Mindset

There's a lot of artist with different perspectives on how to approach art and your mindset while doing it, but the general consensus is that it's a process and sometimes you have to remind yourself to enjoy art!

Line

How to draw straight lines without a ruler. …but for the love of all that's good do NOT feel bad about using one! This talks about how to hold your pencil and how to do some good freehand stuff, some good practice.

5 grips for holding a Pencil for Drawing - This goes for pencil, pen, tablet, etc.. Get comfortable and figure out what's right for you and your pictures. I'd like to note that paintbrush holding will overlap, but some will differ.

A few line drawing exercises that help with line confidence.

Types of line drawings & what they are.

Contour Line & exercises with Mrs. Cook - Contour lines are one of the first art exercises I do in all the drawing classes I've taken. The good news is that they're surprisingly fun & look neat, even the blind contours!

Good deep thoughts on lines and how to use them.

Line Weight Tutorial

Lineart Weight Tips!

How to show variation in your line art: part 1 & part 2.

Some teacher's Drawing 1 & 2 lessons put online.

Light, Shadow, & Value

An introduction to tonal values.

Why values are important. The main reasons are that they give depth to a piece, and values literally shape our world.

Tonal Values: Everything you need to know

How does light work & the basics on Light

Light & Shadow in Art - much more in depth of the above! Highly recommended if you have time to spare.

Understanding grayscale/monochrome art. Great for shading & planning.

A guide to Cross Hatching (and hatching in general) - As a side note, crosshatching is one of the early things taught as it marries Line + Value into a nice neat package and helps add form with just a pen.

Crosshatching for Comics

Learn more about coloring by working in grayscale

How to Make Your Art Look Nice - Contrast!

Using lighting to make your art look nice.

Some light & shadow classifications.

Edges - notes on how they work in shading.

Color

A side note - color theory doesn't differ much, but color MIXING will change between mediums. If you're doing traditional colored pencil, you're overlapping 2 or more pigments on top of each other. If you're doing traditional paint, you're mixing & creating a solution/emulsion (depends on the pigment and binding) of pigments with the particles reflecting light in different ways. In digital, overlapping colors & blending colors depend on how the program you use calculates it if you're not just putting 2 color side by side. This just means you have to adjust your mixing when you switch between them. :)

Slawek Fedorczuk's Light & Color Tips - also shows how to guide through a scene.

The Color Tutorial Part 1 & 2 by Sashas - A personal favorite.

Color Studies 1-6 by Sheri Doty Amazingly nice breakdown on how color works in simple terms.

Sarah Culture's Tips on Color

The value of underpainting

A few notes on reflective light.

Experimental color techniques with Alai Ganuza: first post, second, & third.

Color zones of the face charts

Composition

Good Tips on Composition

Here's an example of how you can search the Etherington Brothers' stuff and get like 10 tutorials and tips on one subject. Composition & Cover Design, Shadow Composition, Two Line Composition - plus more.

How to make your art look nice: Thumbnailing!

And don't be afraid to make silly thumbnails or sketches.

Composition Examples - charts like these are great when you can't think of something yourself. There's no shame in using them.

Flow and Rhythm

Formulas for landscape composition.

Perspective

Perspective Drawing Tutorial by Julie Duell

Linear & Atmospheric Perspective Guide

One Point Perspective City Tut by Swingerzetta

Niso Explains Perspective - these are great for drawing figures in perspective!

Putting characters into scenes and drawing backgrounds

Backgrounds that make your character stand out!

Using background detail to guide the eye.

Odds and Ends

I shit you not, probably 1/3rd of my color, value, & structure knowledge comes from pixel art since I've done so much of it and it is all about challenging yourself to do the most you can with limitations. Check out lospec's tutorial database for fun and see how it compares to art techniques you're doing - even if you never try a medium, it's always interesting to see how it works. :D

How to Make Your Art Look Nice: Reference Images & Style, Pushing Proportions, and developing style.

Foervraengd talks about how he expanded his comfort zone with concept art & landscape drawing.

Luna Art talks about what they're thinking when doing concept art.

Repeating visual motifs in character design looks cool.

Eric's Thoughts on Drawing Backgrounds and Props.

Show vs. Tell: Why Visual is Not Optional in comics.

The Lost Vocabulary of Visual Story Telling Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, & Day 4.

Traditional Animation's 2 Digital Library books, The Know-How of Cartooning by Ken Hultgren & Advanced Animation by Preston Blair are two books from the golden age of animation they have up on their site for free viewing!

Animation resources dot org has a lot of cool stuff. Here's Nat Falk's How to Make Animated Cartoons (part 1). Their pages on Instruction & Theory are a good start.

Books

Good news: the internet archive has a TON of resources. Make sure to check around and toggle filters, it's a bit weird with organization. For example, a book can be under art or drawing - techniques, depending on who catalogues it.

Andrew Loomis is someone artist tend to die-hard reccomend. His work is collected here & here on the internet archive (one is Andrew Loomis, the other is Loomis, Andrew - thanks). I own Figure Drawing for All It's Worth and I recommend checking all of his stuff out, especially if you're having trouble with bodies and hands.

The Animator's Survival Guide by Richard Williams is mandatory in animation classes for good reason - it's fantastic!

Perspective for Comic Book Artist by David Chelsea is great for any type of artist. So is Extreme Perspective & Perspective in Action.

Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, & Making Comics. The first one is on the internet archive, the second two are likely avaliable at your library or at a bookstore as they're pretty popular.

Speaking of comics, Drawing Comics the Marvel Way has been a favorite of comic artist for years no matter what comic book companies and artist you like, it's a good introduction.

Anything by or endorsed by James Gurney, Color and Light: A Guide for the Realistic Painter is one of my favorites (this is his official page but you can get them elsewhere for cheaper too).

Art resource blogs with good tagging systems: @artist-refs , @help-me-draw , @helpfulharrie , @art-res , @drawingden , & @how-to-art

Lastly, I suggest if you find something you like online for free, SAVE IT! Whether it is through the Wayback Machine, screenshotting a whole webpage, reblogging/retweeting something, or putting it on pinterest, digital media is fickle and tends to go up in smoke when you least expect it. I have a partially organized Pinterest board that helped me find most of the stuff I wanted to keep. Figure out what works for you and save what you can.

[psychopomp-namine]

this post is about qiao ling. but first, I want to talk about the power rangers of this show.

so. I'm really glad YE2 is putting the triple star warrior mirroring in a more interesting context

because that's clearly the intent and it's not like it doesn't make sense back in S1, but the actual execution of that mirroring seemed shallow at best with just S1 knowledge

(look! qiao ling even bought cake of them in the S2 finale)

I think it's because I couldn't quite place qiao ling's role in this until now. she's the star of wisdom, but she's the one who is the most out of the loop and lacking in knowledge... or so we thought. but with the S2 ending giving her tianxi's ability, and YE2 showing that it's a pattern for her to keep relevant information, then yeah, it's starting to make sense. the triple star warriors really are their character arcs.

star of justice, bringing hope (cheng xiaoshi's kindness being both a strength and a weakness that can either uplift or endanger other people; "even if you don't see hope, it doesn't mean it's not there")

star of courage, conquering fear (lu guang timelooping himself is the most extreme response to fear he has over cheng xiaoshi's death)

star of wisdom, serving knowledge (qiao ling and the burden of knowledge that she keeps from people out of guilt or protection)

and they really do need to overcome all of that to get the good ending.

anyway, I just think it's neat. I thought the triple star warriors mirroring was cute back in S1, but now I love it even more knowing qiao ling's place in all of this. I actually love this trait about her. she is always taking care of other people and has "big sister" vibes. she's the one who actually goes out of her way to find clients for shiguang to help and hearing their clients' troubles, even when she had no idea how their abilities worked. she's the one who truly connected with tianxi and knew how to communicate with her — even better than cheng xiaoshi could, and cheng xiaoshi was the one who actually got to live as tianxi.

it's in her nature to care for others, but it's also her biggest flaw. much like lu guang, in her desire to keep cheng xiaoshi safe in her own way, she hides relevant information from him. and the act of secret keeping causes her to keep doing it out of guilt too — as we've seen in the doudou case. it's a very human trait to have.

it puts the earthquake arc in a new context. a young cheng xiaoshi went to qiao ling, distraught over the possibility that maybe his parents died in the earthquake. young qiao ling, wanting to comfort cheng xiaoshi but also knowing that her parents were advised that it's safer for cheng xiaoshi to not go to bridon, tells him that his parents are probably somewhere "far away" and wasn't caught in the earthquake. this isn't just words for the sake of comfort. she has reason to believe this is actually true.

she's in a tough spot when S3 rolls around, because she should, by then, know about cheng xiaoshi's death, if not possibly everything that happened in bridon (through tianxi's power/memory transfer). unlike lu guang, who is dead set on timelooping himself as a way to fix things, qiao ling is in a precarious spot.

should she honor aunt shao's wish and keep cheng xiaoshi safe, which she also wants? or should she tell cheng xiaoshi information he rightfully should know, thereby allowing him to exercise full agency over his own future, even if that future has the risk of death? and whatever she chooses will affect lu guang too. what is the wise thing to do here?

on that note, others have pointed out how this recontextualizes S1E1 cheng xiaoshi talking about his parents. looking back, it's insane to me that S1E1's opening scene (not the dive rules, the one after the op plays) has cheng xiaoshi saying, "I won't go anywhere until my parents come back. if you drive me away, I'll hang myself here! then your father will never get a new tenant."

(it's looking like whatever he learns in bridon won't carry over to the cheng xiaoshi of S1, but I digress)

he says this, and both lu guang and qiao ling are sitting there calling him a childish idiot, all the while harboring knowledge about his parents that cheng xiaoshi doesn't have. (lu guang also has the extra knowledge of cheng xiaoshi's death and what happened in bridon at this point probably, but this post is not about lu guang)

like... in S1 this could just be seen as a little "haha okay so this is exposition and this is their dynamic" scene but now... man. qiao ling knew all this time, in this scene, where his parents might be. she knew during the earthquake. she knew while they were renovating the shop.

I understand the reasons behind it, and in her eyes it probably was the wise thing to do. but when S3 comes around, should she still keep hiding it, like she did with the doudou case? when she confronts lu guang about his memories, what will she do?

I have hope that she'll bridge the two boys together. we saw how her strength has always been communication and delivering words. she is the person the clients look to. she is the person that gained tianxi's trust and knew how to meet her where she's at. she is the person who knows cheng xiaoshi and lu guang best.

here's hoping that she can overcome her guilt and desire to protect cheng xiaoshi from himself, and become the star of wisdom the show wants her to be

[bonelyheartsclub]

♡ Poplar - Valentine's One-Shot ♡

Written by @/duskyskye

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Splendid, absolutely splendid!”

Poplar gazed at your latest piece, raising it above his head. You’d tried your best to work with the tiny watercolor canvas and brushes he had available for you, but you really thought you could have done better with this one. Especially compared to Poplar’s prowess.

“I don’t know,” you thought aloud, “I don’t think it’s really all that.”

“Nonsense! The way you rendered this flower is lovely! I love the shading you did on the petals.”

“Poplar…you and I both know I was just following a tutorial. I couldn’t do that without help.” Your tone was light as you spoke, though the creeping feeling of inadequacy was still present. Of course, Poplar wasn’t taking that from you.

“Hmm…what I know for certain is that you shouldn’t be nearly this hard on yourself. Everyone begins somewhere, after all! I think you’re off to a lovely start. Now, may I?” Poplar stood, gesturing to the wall. You gave him a shrug and a nod, trying to keep the smile on your face. Without another word, he positioned your piece just above his desk mirror.

“Well, I think that makes for a lovely centerpiece. Done by an even more lovely person.” Poplar smiled, looking at the wall.

You followed his gaze. Yep. That was your piece, alright. Next to the other paintings that he had hanging. They seemed to dwarf yours in quality, the brushwork and delicate detail reflecting Poplar’s talent in his craft. You shuddered a little bit.

Poplar seemed to pick up on your discomfort, his smile faltering as he sat back down next to you.

“Does it really bother you that much? Your painting?”

You gave him a small nod. He sighed, looking downcast for a brief moment before his sockets widened, his smile quickly returning as he turned to you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shown you my old paintings, now, have I? Oh dear, what a shame. Though surely if you’re so bothered by someone’s early works, you’d have no interest…” Poplar made a point of acting hurt, leaning dramatically against his desk. You giggled at the theatrics. Maybe you were a bit on the theatrical side yourself with how downtrodden you were being.

“Are you acting like that because you think they’re any worse than mine?”

“Darling, I KNOW they are.” Poplar gave you a quick grin before taking his cane and walking to his dresser. With a flourish, he pulled out a well-loved folder from the top drawer.

“I suppose I should clarify before I open this, but I am showing this to you with the express purpose of helping you understand that everyone struggles when beginning in a new medium. I fully expect you to laugh, to judge, and so on. All I ask is that when you reach the life drawing section, you refrain from visibly cringing too hard.” Poplar slid back into the seat beside you, placing the file on the tabletop where you had been working.

“What’s that supposed to mean, anyway?”

“You’ll find out in just a moment.”

You opened the file, which contained a relatively thick bunch of papers. The top started with a few color studies. Each labelled with various brush styles, paint colors, and blending methods. Wet on wet, wet on dry, flat wash, gradients, glazing… all things you had a vague understanding of, but more than you think you would have the patience to complete. You could tell that the strokes and coloring were not nearly as neat as the works that were displayed above your head.

Pages turned from dedicated exercises to a few applications. Circles in various colors were shaded using the previous techniques. He was experimenting with the various colors available to him. You could tell that he had also been following guides with a few of these as he got the hang of the technique. It all seemed fairly rudimentary, but you could tell that he had put a lot of effort in.

At this point it appeared he was branching out his sketching skills as well. Leaves and flowers were a common subject, it seemed. It was at that point that he broke the silence.

“Ash was beginning to garden at around the point I started to commit to bettering myself in the visual arts. It’s interesting, trying to capture the detail in such tiny little things. Though I think you can see that the subtlety is easy to lose.” He finished with a laugh.

Sure enough, the linework was notably shaky. The symmetry he had tried to go for had been lost. The lines clearly lacked confidence, and the veins of the leaves looked more like fur than anything else, somehow. Not that you could do much better if you were going for absolute realism.

“I think you still did a good job.” You said, gesturing to a couple illustrations. “This leaf looks really nice!”

“I’m well aware that they’re wonky, darling. They were my first attempts.” Poplar offered you a smile. “You don’t need to struggle to come up with compliments.”

“No, no, I genuinely think they’re good! Especially for first attempts.”

“Then I suggest you continue onwards. Though while you do, would you mind if I make a sketch of my own while you continue to peruse?”

“Go for it.”

Poplar nodded, pulling his sketchbook and a pencil into his hand. You flipped to the next page.

Poplar had shifted from leaves and flowers to objects that you recognized from around his room. A porcelain plate with floral decoration that he displayed on the other side of the room. A plush that he had carefully mounted on top of his shelves. What you assumed was either an older bed of his, or one of his cousin’s, as it wasn’t the one you were next to currently. Each had what looked like at least an hour of work poured into them. Even if they weren’t the best sketches, you could see he was gaining a better eye for detail as he worked at it.

Then you flipped to the next piece.

You could only ASSUME that what you were looking at was his first attempt at drawing chicken. 

You looked back at Chicken, who had been fast asleep on their pillow for the majority of their visit. You turned in your seat, looking between the sketch and the real thing.

“Ah. You found it.” Poplar broke into a fit of giggles. “It’s absolutely awful, isn’t it? It’s alright to laugh.”

Well, it was…certainly an attempt. Poplar had gone VERY heavy on the wrinkles. One eye was notably misshapen compared to the other, and the muzzle was disproportionately long for a cat. The end product was what you could tell was Chicken from the approximation of feline traits and almost nothing else.

“I don’t know, I think you did ok.”

“No, I absolutely crashed and burned. There are only two reasons that that sketch isn’t in the bin. The first is that when I’m struggling with a piece, it reminds me that I could do so much worse. The second is that when I’m feeling overconfident, it humbles me.”

Hearing him talk…yeah, you knew what you sounded like now.

“Should I continue going through this, or do you think that your point came across just fine?” You asked him, a slight hint of comedy in your tone. The stack that you had left to sort through wasn’t thick.

“Oh, by all means, continue. I’m still working on what I’m doing over here. Though if you’re curious about any of the other pieces within, you only need to ask.” Poplar looked up at you from his paper, gesturing to you to continue.

So, you did.

While none of the pieces invoked the same level of shock in you that Chicken’s portrait did, you could see the purpose of these sketches was very much to learn the ropes of anatomy and shape. It wasn’t like you had much room to speak, of course. It was more of a comparison to his current work than anything else. You could see things improving as you thumbed through each sheet of canvas, each work growing more refined as you went on. By the end, you could see a couple of full pieces that started to look very nice.

“So?” Poplar eagerly piped up as he saw you close the folder. “What are your thoughts? Do be honest about it.”

“It’s your beginner’s folder. I think you showed a lot of promise even back then, even if your pieces weren’t always the best work.” You stated bluntly. Poplar smiled at your tiptoeing.

“Now, tell me: how many folders in do you think I am now?”

“…I have no clue.”

“Fifteen. All as big as this one. Plus at least three sketchbooks. It’s a hobby, but I’m quite dedicated.”

Your eyes widened. Wow, no wonder there was such a jump in quality between then and now.

“No kidding you’re, ‘dedicated.’ I can see that all that work paid off.”

“I’d like to think so. Of course, everyone has areas in which they can improve with their artwork. I’ve just been working hard enough and for long enough that things come to me more naturally than they once did. For instance:”

Poplar thumbed through the sketchbook he was holding to an earlier page. On it was a similar picture of Chicken, this time with more precise proportions. A marked improvement from what you had seen before.

“I see. You did an amazing job on that.” You reached out, gently touching the paper.

“I’m glad you think so! Though I find I’m still not the best at rendering skin folds. They look more like the folding you’d find on clothing than the kind you’d find on skin. It doesn’t help that I can’t use myself as reference, what with the bones and all.”

Poplar closed the sketchbook, looking you directly in the eye.

“I never want you to feel bad at where you’re at in your art journey, my love. We all have to start somewhere, and personally, I think yours is much better than mine. What matters is that you’re trying, because if you keep doing that, then you’ll get to where you want to be eventually.”

You looked back at the piece he’d hung up on the wall. Sure, it was more of an attempt than anything, but maybe it wasn’t so bad. You chuckled.

“Yeah, I got you. I appreciate the reassurance, Poplar.”

“Any time, my love. Now, are you curious as to what I was working on while you were distracted with my crimes against art?”

You giggled at his joke.

“Of course.”

Poplar opened the sketchbook back up, turning to a point about midway through.

What greeted you on the page was your reflection, not fully rendered due to the lack of time, but still clearly you, nonetheless. Your hair was perfectly textured, your eyes stood out brightly with a small amount of rendering, and your skin looked as light as the paper it was drawn on.

“Poplar…I’m flattered.”

“Well, you know, I think it has room for improvement. Time to shade and color, for instance. There’s SO much to improve on. After all, it’s hard to compare a pencil sketch to the TRUE work of art that it’s based on…”

“Yeah, yeah!” You shoved him, both of you laughing. “Seriously though, this is gorgeous. Thank you for this.”

“Of course, my love.” Poplar leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. “You know that if you ever feel as though you’re lacking confidence, I’m happy to give you any encouragement you need. Even if it means showing you my first attempts at drawing my cat.”

You smiled, not doubting his words for even a second.

“Thank you, Poplar… and you know what?” You pulled a new canvas from the paper stack Poplar had supplied you and confidently took a pencil in your hand. “I’m ready to start on my next piece.”

Poplar’s sockets sparkled; his grin widened from cheek to cheek.

“I’m excited to see what you create, darling.”

[thinking1bee]

Walking On Sunshine

Requested by owloftheshadows

Pairings: Lena Luthor x Reader

Tags: Grump/Sunshine, Grump!Lena Luthor, Sunshine!Reader, Fluff, Humor, Everything Is Strictly Platonic, Reader Can Speak Multiple Languages, A Black Cat Named Stormy

Word Count: 13.1K

Everything Taglist: @ara-a-bird @iliketozoneout @unholyhelbig @owloftheshadows

A/N: Thank you for such a lovely request @owloftheshadows! I had fun making this, and I hope it lives up to your expectations! ❤️❤️❤️

 “Hi! My name is Y/n.”

Lena swore that this was the beginning of her undoing. It was the first thing that you said to her when you came into her life, and since then, she could never look back.

Lena was always a simple person. She woke up, worked, exercised when she had the time, and slept. The next day? Rinse and repeat. On Fridays, she participated in game night with her friends. Any other day? Lena was either at Catco or L-Corp. Everyone knew that she was a private person, and that boundary of Lena’s was always respected. She was never an open book, and outside her immediate friend group, Lena really didn’t socialize. She had two empires to run and not a lot of time to screw around. It wasn’t that she didn’t find value in socialization. Even Lena needed to leave her desk occasionally. It was that Lena valued her work. Being a Luthor came with a legacy that, quite frankly, needed its own PR crew. Thanks to her mother and brother, Lena spent more time cleaning messes she didn’t make and fixing the Luthor image. It was hard to live in the shadow of a narcissistic, megalomaniac with a shiny scalp and a superiority complex. However, thanks to years of hard work and perseverance, Lena was making a name for herself outside of the clutches of violence and pain that was usually associated with her namesake.

After long hours in the office or in the lab, Lena drove home drained and exhausted. She needed a new assistant. Kara was her previous one, but Lena rightfully promoted her to a journalist. Not long after, Kara earned a Pulitzer for her story on the Children of Liberty. Her award was a fantastic feat for both her and Catco. The credibility of her work led the public to trust in her, and in the company, to tell the truth. The unbiased truth. Lena will always be grateful for Kara. She was an amazing friend, and an even more amazing journalist. However, Lena would be lying if she said that she didn’t feel Kara’s absence as her right hand. Lena thought that she would be able to manage it all on her own, but juggling projects, meetings, conference calls, international flights, emails, and everything else in between was a nightmare. She was screwing up her own schedule, and it was embarrassing. Lena wasn’t one to make mistakes like that, but she was being pulled in too many directions at all hours of the day. She needed another personal assistant immediately. Kara was an excellent one, which is why Lena pulled her aside and asked her for help. She trusted her friend and her work ethic, which was why Lena left the decision up to Kara as to who should fill the position. All she asked was that they start as soon as possible, hopefully, by tomorrow. She’ll fast track the paperwork herself. Lena wouldn’t even bother with sending it to HR. Their vetting process was thorough and extensive, but it was too costly in time, and that was something that Lena couldn’t afford to lose right now. She had presentations, conference calls with international conglomerates, domestic interviews, more research to conduct... it just kept going. Between her work at L-Corp and her work at Catco, she wondered if she was maybe running herself a little bit too ragged.

Lena parked her car in the secured garage with a tired huff. For a few minutes, she sat in the driver’s seat and released her hair from the confines if its bun. This morning, her hair was neat and pristine. Lena laid it down with enough gel that her hands had been sticky for the rest of the day, no matter how many times she washed them. Still, she managed to sweat profusely through the layer, and what remained of it now was frizzy hair and fly aways. She needed to delegate her work. This was too much even for her. Before she left the car, she sent a series of texts to her friend Andrea. Andrea was more than happy to take over Catco for as long as Lena needed it, and already, a breath of relief pushed passed her lips. She sent a text to Kara to warn her and the others of the immediate change, and Kara responded that she would spread the word. In the morning, Lena would have to send all her information to Andrea. That included current ongoing stories, interviews that would need to be scheduled, resources that still needed to be fleshed out, among other things. Lena released another weary sigh as she grabbed her bag. The term “exhausted” couldn’t even begin to describe how she felt right now. She felt like she needed to be buried.

Lena trudged inside of her high-rise apartment complex. She lived in a nice, but modest part of National City. It was expensive, but it wasn’t pretentiously or flamboyantly exorbitant. Lena knew that she could live in a mansion or penthouse, but in her eyes, it was too ostentatious. Just because she had money, it didn’t mean that she had to flaunt it. She gave a friendly wave to the concierge at the desk, Stan. Stan was a sweet, older gentleman that had to be in his 70s. He once told her that he preferred the silent, peaceful nights over the bustling chaos of the day. When he saw Lena approaching, he pressed a button on his control panel. The door buzzed and opened automatically, saving Lena the trouble of having to dig for her access key in the hot mess that was her purse. When she crossed through the threshold, Stan stood up politely.

“Another late night for you, Ms. Luthor? I really wish that you’d go easy on yourself.”

Lena gave him a friendly smile but kept walking. Her exhaustion was too palpable for her to stop and converse, but she did answer him.

“I wish, Stan. I really do, but there’s too much that I need to do.”

At that, he gave her a sad smile and reached beneath the counter to give Lena her mail. “Do be safe, Ms. Luthor.”

“You too.”

She took her, rather thick, bundle of mail, and was just stepping into the elevator when Stan’s voice stopped her.

“By the way, someone finally moved into that unit that is next to yours. She seems like a lovely girl, very full of energy.”

Lena nodded and smiled before the doors slowly slid shut. So, she finally had a neighbor. She hadn’t known who the previous tenants were, just that they were noisy and were constantly getting into arguments. It would be a lie if Lena said she wasn’t disappointed that they finally left. For almost a year, that room remained empty and blissfully quiet. Lena did wonder who occupied it now, but she wasn’t curious enough to investigate or to introduce herself. She just hoped that she could be cordial with the newest addition to the property.

When the elevator doors opened, Lena stepped off idly, her full attention on the stack of bills she held in her hand. To her bewilderment, most of them were past due. They even had late fees. What the hell? She could have sworn that everything in her name was on autopay. She did that so things like this wouldn’t happen. What was going on??? Lena froze in her steps as she flipped through all the papers, her fingers tearing open the envelopes so that she could see just how bad everything was. Numbers bolded in thick, red font greeted her frustrated gaze as she considered the possibility of having to call the bank in the morning. Something must be wrong. With a sigh, she resumed walking, the carpet in the corridor muffling her steps. Lena wasn’t paying attention, her gait growing faster when she realized just how tired and overworked she was. Now, she wanted to get home to her cat and to a nice glass of wine. Her hand was reaching into her purse to grab her keys when she ran into something. Or someone. You yelped as you dropped the stack of books in your hands, and Lena grunted as her grip on her mail slipped. Books and papers spilled onto the floor, scattering haphazardly in the hallway. Lena was moving before her brain had the chance to process what happened. She crouched, her hands reaching for whatever they could grab. You did the same, apologizing profusely.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” you began but Lena was already speaking.

“No, no. It’s on me-”

More hands grasped at flyaway papers and tossed books.

“I’ve spent the entire day moving in-”

“I should have paid attention to where I was going-”

You and this mystery woman took things at random, trying hard to help each other so that you could get back to your respective tasks. You’d sort through the disparate pile once you stood up, but your main concern was remedying this social slight.

“I just have too much junk-”

“I was trying to get home-”

More flurries of panicked movements and a few awkward laughs filled the space.

“I hope that you’re okay.”

You both said the sentence at the same time, your voices overlapping as you paused to look at each other, but it didn’t stop there. The last item that remained on the floor, one of your books, sat rested and opened with the pages bared. It was between you and this stranger. Of course, it needed to be picked up, so you went to grab it... and so did she. Your hands collided, your fingers brushing against hers. That was how you discovered how silky smooth her skin was and how green her eyes were. You looked up to meet her gaze, your mouth falling open slightly at just how vibrant they were. Holy fuck! This woman before you was ethereally gorgeous. Despite how tired she looked, nothing about her seemed out of place. With pale, flawless skin, dark, shiny hair, and eyes as green as emeralds, you were looking at a goddess. She took you by surprise, and while you were too slow to react, she was not. She snatched her hand away from you like you were on fire. Her cheeks colored a muted pink as she hurriedly stood up.

“Sorry about that,” she mumbled as she sorted through what she held in her hands. “It’s been a long day.”

She handed over your books while you passed over her mail. Running into her wasn’t the cherry on top of this entire situation. You were now staring at her, too enamored by her beauty as she looked at you with concern. You weren’t talking. You weren’t blinking. Lena wasn’t even entirely sure that you were breathing right now.

“Are you okay?”

That single question seemed to snap you out of your stupor, and you stammered as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “Uhhhh y-yes. Sorry. Hi! My name is Y/n, your new neighbor.”

Lena’s eyebrows shot up, but she wasn’t surprised. If anything, she wanted to get into her apartment all the more. She didn’t answer at first until the silence stretched on longer than necessary, the air between you growing thick with awkward energy.

“I’m Lena.”

You chuckled. “Oh, I know. Everyone knows who you are.”

Lena… didn’t have a response for that. Instead, she flashed a quick smile and made a beeline towards her front door.

“Have a great night,” she said over her shoulder.

“You…” you tried, but Lena was already inside of her apartment, and she gently closed the door. “… too.”

You blinked before smiling. You knew that Lena Luthor was in the area, but what were the odds that you’d be her neighbor? You stepped into your own apartment, closed the door behind you, and locked it. Setting the books on the dining table, you checked the time and saw how late it was. It would certainly explain why Lena looked as tired as she did. You needed to get to bed yourself so that you could be bright and awake for tomorrow.

You had one hell of a day ahead of you.

+++

You heard frenzied movements on the opposite end of the phone as you walked on the bustling sidewalk.

“You’re late again, aren’t you?” you asked with a chuckle.

There was a winded scoff and some heavy breathing. “No, I’m not. No way!”

You quirked an eyebrow and smirked. “Kara, I can hear you panting.”

“That’s me… doing my morning exercise,” she tried, and you laughed. Kara was always a horrible liar.

“Do I even have to say it?”

There was a long pause, the sounds of the city filtering through the speaker.

“No,” she finally answered, her tone holding a begrudged edge.

“Mmhm. You really have to start managing your time a little better.”

“Hey! First off, thanks mom,” Kara replied sarcastically. “And second, don’t forget that I got you this job. A ‘thank you’ is in order.”

“If you bend over, I’ll even kiss your ass too.”

Kara grumbled, but you could make out the teasing and unserious bitch that came out of her mouth. You snickered.

“Hey, I’m here at L-Corp,” you said as the shimmering glass panels of the building came into view. You hesitated just outside of the door. “I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Of course, honey. Have a great first day.”

“And Kara?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” you said genuinely as you smiled, your teeth nibbling into your lower lip just slightly.

“For you? Anything. Make us both look good in there. Remember, Lena has my number so don’t fuck anything up.”

“Yeah, I’ll start by actually showing up to my job on time,” you jabbed lightly as a smile played on your lips.

Kara scoffed. “Un-be-lievable.”

You laughed and ended the call, pocketing your phone before you went inside. Never once have you stepped foot into L-Corp. Up until now, you didn’t have a reason to do so. You knew what it was, and you had a general idea of the projects that the staff worked on, but this wasn’t just a building that you could pop into to take a curious look around. The security here was extensive. Almost near every door was a security guard. The guest entrance required you to go through metal detectors. The staff entrance was very much the same, but you watched as someone used their badge to gain access before they went through a metal detector as well.

Considering everything that happened in L-Corp and National City, you didn’t fault the need for extensive security. Better safe than sorry. Once making it through the detectors, you went straight to the receptionist’s desk. Sat behind it was a young woman, maybe even younger than you. She was dressed professionally, her attire sharp and pristine without a blemish in sight. She was just hanging up the phone when she faced you with a polite smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked in an easy voice.

“I’m here for a meeting.”

“Oh! You’re the 9am! My name is Valentina and thank you for being early. That helps me a lot” she replied as she reached across the desk. “I’ll need to get a picture of you for your badge.”

She directed you towards a neutral background where you stood and smiled. The moment that you were still, Valentina snapped the picture before plugging the camera into her computer. Her hands flew across the keyboard as she talked.

“Your badge will grant you access to all the common areas for the employees, like the cafeteria, the break rooms, the elevators, and the employee entrances. You’ll also need it to clock in and out. Trust me, don’t forget it or else HR will screw up your paycheck.” She chuckled and you smiled. “If you choose, you can link your card to a separate employee account to pay for things inside of the building. It’ll mainly be for the vending machines or the weekly food trucks.”

“What about cafeteria food?” you asked curiously.

Valentina nodded. “You don’t have to pay for lunch here. All we ask is that you eat what you grab and help us cut down on food waste. Whatever isn’t eaten is usually donated so we’re not throwing away perfectly good food.”

You nodded and raised your eyebrows. You’ve never worked a job in which food was free, much less donated at the end of each day. Corporations don’t do that.

“Your badge will also let you into your office and the office of the CEO.”

“CEO?” you asked, and Valentina nodded.

Admittedly, you never asked Kara for any details about the job. When she called to tell you about it, you took it without a second thought. Your other job was a dead end. There wasn’t any room for promotions or pay raises, so you didn’t see any reason to stick around. This seemed better, and the pay Kara mentioned was almost too good to be true. All you knew was that you needed to go to L-Corp and that everything else would be taken care of. Thinking back, maybe you should have asked for a little more information, but Kara would never steer you wrong. So, you were going to trust the process.

Valentina fiddled with a machine that beeped and hummed. When it produced your freshly laminated badge, she attached it to a lanyard and gave it to you. You made sure to put it on immediately. If it went anywhere else, you’d lose it.

“Take the elevator to the top floor and someone will be there to greet you.”

Valentina picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Hello, your 9am is here.”

Someone spoke to her, but it wasn’t like you could hear it, not with the sheer amount of people here in the lobby. Valentina’s only answer was to nod and hum before she placed the phone back on the receiver.

“You’re clear to head on up.”

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, and Valentina gave you a genuine smile.

“Welcome to L-Corp!”

You followed her directions, using your badge to access the elevator before taking it to the top. You were lost in thought, your hands idly fidgeting with your badge as you listened to the dings of each floor that passed you by. When you reached the final floor, you faced forward and prepared yourself. This was it! Today was your first day at the job, and nervous energy flitted through you as you vibrated in place. When the doors opened, you prepared to introduce yourself… only to stop short when you saw who was standing outside. Emerald green eyes met yours and a huff of disbelieving laughter left you. Lena stood there, ready to receive her new assistant to get them as oriented as possible, but she hesitated when she saw you.

“Y/n?”

“Ms. Luthor?”

Admittedly you felt a little obtuse for not putting two and two together. Of course, Lena would be the CEO of L-Corp. What did you think the “L” meant? Lena stood there, the surprise evident on her face, as she leaned over to see if anyone else was in the elevator. When it was just you, she cleared her throat and raised her eyebrow.

“Are you Kara’s referral?” she asked, and your smile widened.

“Wow. Small world.”

Lena’s lips twitched but she didn’t offer any other reaction. “Do you know what you’re here for?”

At that, you shook your head, and you watched as Lena’s expression downturned into a frown. It wasn’t what she was expecting. It was sort of unorthodox but technically, she could still hire you. Though you were her neighbor, she didn’t know you personally, so there wasn’t a conflict of interest. Besides, she didn’t want to waste any more time. There was so much to do, and she wanted to see if you were as good as Kara claimed you to be.

“You’re going to be my personal assistant,” she began, and you nodded dutifully. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much time to give you the tour that you deserve. I’m hoping that, if you wouldn’t mind, starting your job right away.”

You waved away her concerns and smirked. It was one that was full of confidence and not meant to be insulting or disrespectful. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You’ve worked plenty of assistant jobs in the past, so as long as you were knowledgeable on all the software that was used to keep the administrative and logistics side of L-Corp running, you could do anything that she wanted. You stepped off the elevator and watched as Lena pointed at various locations in the massive room.

“Over there to the right back corner are the restrooms and the water fountain. The rooms on the opposite end are the board rooms for meetings,” she explained as she watched to make sure that you were following. “The stairs are located in the back corner right here, close to the elevator. If it happens, there are four fire alarms with one being in this room, and there is a fire extinguisher right over there.”

You watched as Lena pointed to the far wall, and you nodded when you saw the shiny, glossy red glinting behind the glass of the storage shelf. She faced forward. “The room right in front of the elevators is my office and to the left of it is yours.”

“I get an office???”

You’ve never had one of those before. A small smile played on Lena’s lips as she glanced at you.

“Yes. I just had it cleaned, so if anything is out of the ordinary, please bring it to my attention. Are you familiar with Microsoft Office?”

You nodded as you followed her to the room that you would be working in.

“Excellent. I’m sure Valentina briefly discussed the spaces that you do and don’t have access to. Please don’t try to use your badge to access any locations that you know you can’t enter. If it’s a mistake, I would understand, but the security systems in place will flag you, and if it becomes a persistent habit, then it becomes my problem.”

“I understand,” you answered seriously. She nodded her approval before opening the door. You stepped inside, the light scent of cleaner blanketing the air.

Your office was bigger than you anticipated, and you looked around in awe when you took in the expensive desk, the ergonomic chair, the two computer monitors rested on top that were side by side, and the keyboard situated in front. The walls were painted a muted white. It wasn’t overly bright, which you were thankful for because sometimes, the intensity of it gave you migraines. In the past, you would have to bring sunglasses and wear them indoors if you wanted to save yourself the pain of potential over stimulation. It sucked but you did it, especially if you wanted to get any work done. The white in here leaned more towards a gray color than anything else, and you nodded impressively as you took it in. The back of your office was nothing but ceiling-to-floor windows and massive blinds. They were currently open to allow the sunlight to stream in unrestricted. Resting on your desk was a remote that controlled those blinds. All you had to do was press the buttons to adjust them to your liking. 

“I took the liberty of filling the drawers with basic office supplies. You’ll find things like notepads, sticky notes, pencils, pens, highlighters, paper clips, and so on. However, if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. You’ll do a lot of desk work, so I take your comfort seriously.”

You smiled at her last sentence and nodded along, approaching the desk to put your stuff down. Lena stayed just outside of the door while looking professional and regal.

“If you need to get a hold of me, please come to my office, or send me a Teams message. In the event that I am not in, please call me. You’ll find an email with my contact information. Additionally, your login information should be in front of the computer.”

You looked down, and there it sat, your username and password written on a yellow sticky note in her elegant handwriting.

“Before you officially start, you will need to read and sign an NDA. You will be working within my company, and therefore, will have access to sensitive information and data. It goes without saying that there are dire security risks to that.”

“I won’t leak anything that I see,” you reassured her, but she shook her head.

“Data leaks I can handle. My internet security crew is the best there is. What I try to prevent are leaks in information that can be used against the public. If you tell anyone what you see before it’s cleared for public announcement, and the result is that it causes harm or damage to the city or its citizens, you will go to prison. That is the nature of the NDA. It includes all information about the inner workings of L-Corp, or all sensitive data involving myself and my personnel.”

Lena took the safety of her team seriously, and it was admirable. No wonder why Kara held her in such high regard and spoke positively of her. Your conclusion was made before Lena finished her spiel. You opened the drawers, grabbed a pen, and flipped through each and every page, initialing and signing where necessary. Lena’s expression morphed into one of concern as she watched you sign it blindly. The ink was barely dry when you handed the packet over to her. Lena took it slowly, her hands holding the contract unsurely.

“Maybe you should review some of the clauses,” she suggested. “There are things it mentions, some small, innocuous topics that maybe you’ve never considered. Though they may be small enough to not have dire repercussions, I’ve included them to cover all my bases.”

You gave Lena a blinding smile as you went back to your desk to unpack your things. “Don’t be dumb and keep my mouth shut. I can handle that, Ms. Luthor. What am I doing for you today?”

At that, she seemed to grow embarrassed, her hands clasping in front of her as pink colored her cheeks. “This one is more of a personal matter than a company one.”

She was warning you, like the task was menial, but you looked at her expectantly. “Yes?”

“I’ve fallen behind on my bills due to an issue with my bank. Would you mind taking care of that for me? I have a comprehensive folder of everything I’m behind on currently, and of everything I’m going to fall behind in if this matter is not addressed at once. I would like for you to please pay all late fees and put everything on autopay. All my bank information is in the folder as well.”

“Of course, Ms. Luthor. Anything else?” you asked easily, and you were rewarded by seeing the relief flood her face. There wasn’t any judgement in your tone, and why would there be? You’ve had late bills go to collections before. It happens.

“For now, that is all. Thank you, Y/n.”

You nodded while Lena took her leave, closing the door behind her. As you got comfortable at your desk and logged into the computer, she came back with the aforementioned folder and handed it to you. You nodded your thanks before concentrating on the task at hand.

+++

You were surprised when the day passed you by relatively quickly. The sun was already descending below the skyline. Pink and orange hues of vibrant color decorated the sky, and you sat back while rolling the tension from your neck. For the entire day, you worked on everything Lena asked of you, only taking breaks to refill your water bottle, eat lunch, or text Kara updates about how things were going.

As you continued to work, you saw why Lena came to you about this. Whatever happened, it was all a mess. You sent a message to Lena warning her that you were going to have to call the bank, and she sent you all necessary security information so that you could talk to a teller in person. The whole ordeal lasted an hour with you trying to figure out what happened. At the end of it all, the teller explained that the bank decided to close Lena’s debit card because they “detected” suspicious activity. What they failed to do was warn Lena of the situation and not tell her that they were going to send her a replacement card. When you sent another message to Lena, she asked that you transfer the call to her office, and you almost felt bad for the person you were talking to. The message was professional, but you could still feel the annoyed energy behind it. The teller was nice and patient as they worked with you to resolve the matter. You didn’t know what Lena was going to do, but you knew that you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her ire. You transferred the call, then promptly began to go through all her information, linking everything directly to her bank account instead of her card. The next time this happened, and the bank canceled her card, her bills shouldn’t be affected. You made sure to print and send copies of all receipts and confirmation numbers to Lena’s email before going to her office. You knocked and entered once you heard her hum. As you walked in, you saw that Lena was no longer on the phone. Instead, her eyes were glued to the computer screen, her fingers flying across the keyboard in a speed that shocked you.

“Hello, Ms. Luthor,” you began as you placed your collected paperwork on her desk. She paused to look at it. “I’ve rerouted all your bills so that the money comes directly from your bank account. If the bank cancels your card again, it wouldn’t affect you beyond it being an annoying inconvenience.”

She smirked, momentarily amused by your quip. “And the autopay?”

“Activated on everything across the board.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Y/n. I appreciate you for this. The real fun begins tomorrow. For now, the rest of the day is yours.”

You nodded and turned, preparing to take your leave when a thought occurred to you, and you hesitated. You mulled on it for a few seconds, the gears turning in your head when you turned to look at Lena again. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Lena looked up from her computer. She looked shocked to see you there, like the moment she dismissed you, she forgot that you were still in her office. “I’m sorry?”

If you got there at 9 in the morning, and you never heard or saw Lena leave her office once, then that meant that she hadn’t eaten yet. Today, you stayed in your office and ate lunch at your desk, having packed something for yourself and to use the time to finish some leftover paperwork. You left the door open all day, so that if she needed you for anything else, you would be readily available. However, Lena never asked you to do more. The most you heard from her were the sounds of her typing, or the sounds of her making various phone calls. Even with the few times you passed the opened door to her office, you didn’t see her eat. She had to be starving.

“Hungry,” you repeated. “You must be starving.”

At that Lena shrugged, her expression dismissive of the observation. “It’s no big deal.”

Her answer made you frown. The cafeteria was literally just several floors down. It wasn’t that Lena was lazy, because you knew that wasn’t it. She needed to prioritize her health, and that included her need to eat.

You didn’t say anything more and Lena didn’t question it. Instead, you immediately went to the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. Once there, you perused the cafeteria. Lena seemed like the type of woman who wouldn’t eat much… obviously. She’d pick through her food and eat what she wanted at best, and that was good enough for you.

As long as she ate something.

You walked away with a large salad, some dressing, apple slices, and water. It was the healthiest thing you’ve held in your hands in a while. Usually, your diet consisted of ramen and other cheap food that you could get your hands on. Due to your previous meager pay, you couldn’t afford much, but now that you were at this new job, with a salary that included more zeroes at the end that you weren’t used to seeing, you’d hope that you could finance a better and healthier diet.

You went back up to Lena’s floor and entered her office. When she looked up from her paperwork to see you stride in, she paused and quirked her eyebrow while looking initially unimpressed. Lena was just about to say something when you easily placed the food you grabbed for her on her desk. Lena was astonished as she sat up straight, her gaze flitting between the food in front of her and your facial expression. You smiled and gave her a pointed look.

“Eat.”

It was all you said before you walked back out, grabbed your things, and left L-Corp for the night. Lena watched you go, her surprised look morphing into a small smile. It was one that was surely there if someone looked close enough, before she took her salad. She prepared it slowly and began to eat it while she finished the last dredges of her work.

+++

The next morning, you were back in the office, finishing the last remnants of your onboarding paperwork when you watched Lena trudge slowly off the elevator. You heard her get home last night, and the hour had been so ungodly that you genuinely felt sorry for her. Somewhere between one and two in the morning was when you heard her apartment door accidentally slam closed. It jolted you awake, having dozed off on the couch with a book resting in your lap. The soft glow of your lamp illuminated the small stacks of boxes that you still needed to go through and unpack. Distantly, you could hear her groan of exhaustion through the wall as she kicked off her heels and made herself comfortable. A feeling akin to sympathy filled you when you gazed at the time on your phone. Were these the kind of hours that she worked every day?

That same night, you texted Kara asking her for Lena’s preferred coffee order. She gave it to you when she woke up and you had a steaming latte ready for her on her desk. So, when she walked inside, she paused as she took in the beverage resting on the coaster. It’s savory and sweet smell blanketed her office. The sunlight that filtered through the slotted blinds highlighted the wisps of steam before that dispersed fully into the open air. Humming, Lena backtracked and peaked into your office.

“Was this from you?”

You nodded, your eyes focused on the computer screens in front of you as you typed efficiently.

“I heard you come home last night. You're going to need that,” you responded with an easy smile.

Lena hummed again, this time, in acknowledgement as she stepped back into her office. Normally, she didn’t let anyone grab her coffee. None of her previous personal assistants ever got her order right, and Lena mostly stuck to getting her own drinks when the time allowed. The only person that ever got her order correct without fail was Kara. Lena didn’t know how she did it. She knew what milk to get her, what flavor, and how many shots of expresso. Lena half considered letting the coffee go cold and disposing of it when you weren’t paying attention, however, the scent that filled her office made her hesitate. There wasn’t any harm in taking a sip, right? It’s not like she wasn’t used to disappointing coffee orders, and if nothing at all, Lena did appreciate your effort and consideration. She sipped her drink tentatively, bracing herself, only to let out a sigh of relief the moment she swallowed. It was just how she liked it. She could taste favorable notes of toasted almonds, cinnamon, and oats, and Lena didn’t realize just how much this was helping her when she felt the ache of a developing headache alleviate considerably. She found herself walking back to your office and stopping just outside of the door. 

“Thank you,” she said genuinely. It was the biggest smile you’ve seen from her so far. “How did you know?”

You returned her smile with a warm one of your own. “Kara.”

Lena chuckled. “Of course. She was the only person who had ever gotten it right.”

There was a brief moment of silence as Lena sipped her drink. You finished sending in your hiring paperwork before you sat back in your chair.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” you asked.

“We’re going on several field trips. Make sure to bring plenty of water and food. This is going to be an all-day affair.”

You nodded and packed all your equipment plus the lunch you made for yourself. You did a mental checklist, going through everything you might need for yourself, and just when you thought that you had everything, you sat back and frowned. You had a feeling that yesterday was a regular occurrence for Lena. She worked so hard and so often that she either forgot to eat, or just never made the time for it. You were going to have to do something about that. So, you nodded to yourself, stood up, and went to the cafeteria. This time, you grabbed various snacks. A bowl of fruit. A cup of yogurt. A small, travel sized charcuterie pack. A banana and an apple. Some crackers. It was more than enough to feed Lena something. Seeing her eat today would put your worried nerves at ease. Working the way she does and not eating like that was doing more harm than good.

When you made it back up to the top floor, Lena was already packed and ready to go. And by packed, all you saw in her hold was her lavish, leather briefcase and an expensive bottle of bourbon. You looked at the latter, your eyebrows raising as you motioned towards it.

“Uhhhhhh.”

Lena’s lips twitched as her green eyes glimmered with mirth. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but she did look amused.

“It’ll be your first time surviving one of these days. Our entire day is lined with back-to-back meetings with the board of directors and a select few of my shareholders.”

As she walked past you towards the elevators, you fell in step with her and entered the platform when the doors opened. You eyed her alcohol again and gave her a disbelieving look.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

This time, Lena couldn’t stop the genuine smile after she scoffed. It wasn’t harsh, nor was it patronizing. She just knew what these meetings were going to entail. Lena found it refreshing, your mindset, and she remembered the day when she thought the same thing. Just like you, she was young and new to this. Lena hadn’t considered what it would be like to be in a room full of old, rich men. It was a true test of her patience, and she had a feeling that it was going to be like that for you too. While you’d grabbed your laptop, and all the things that you would need to be her assistant, Lena grabbed her bourbon and was about to leave when she thought better of it. She doubled back and grabbed her briefcase, only doing so to appear professional in a space where appearance meant everything. It took years of standing her ground and taking no shit to get these men to shut up and let her speak. Now, she could easily command the room. That wasn’t going to be the case for you. Unfortunately, and as much as Lena hated to use the expression, you were fresh meat. These men were going to push their luck with you. They were going to do everything in their power to make you feel as incompetent as possible. Lena was already dreading it, and what she didn’t tell you was that she stocked her car with a glass for you too.

“Y/n?”

You turned to look at her curiously as you followed her to her sleek, black SUV. Her driver, Derek, was already situated behind the wheel.

“There’s something about these meetings that you’ll need to know,” she began.

+++

It really was that bad. All day, it was meeting, after meeting, after tedious meeting of watching men argue amongst themselves. It dragged on, and you were convinced that pulling teeth without pain medication was more bearable than this. The first meeting on the list had been entertaining. You were convinced that a fight was going to breakout and that you were about to witness an all-out brawl. It took everything within you, and all of your self control to not laugh, especially when some were arguing so vehemently that their faces were turning red. That was the beginning of your day, and even Lena couldn’t hide the entertained smirk that unfurled across flawless lips. She sat back in the seat at the head of the table and watched the conundrum ensue.

But as time dragged on, these meetings became less amusing and more irritating. You were beginning to understand why Lena brought the bottle of bourbon. It was the last meeting of the day, and now, an extraordinarily strong scowl had settled onto her face, and annoyance etched itself deep into her facial features. Lena was so done with today, and the only thing stopping you from beating your head against the conference room table, was the fact that you wanted to go home. Lena was right. Despite her warnings, nothing she could have said would have done any of this justice. It was funny at first, watching grown men argue amongst themselves, but now, it was just so sad… and such a colossal waste of time. Your day could have concluded by noon easily, and most of this could have been in an email. You spent most of your time organizing Lena’s calendar and making sure she ate the snacks you got her from the cafeteria.

“We don’t do charity work!” someone barked yet again, and the room was quick to devolve into more chaotic bickering.

You leaned closer to Lena, and she quirked an eyebrow in intrigue. “I can fake a stroke of that means we can leave right now.”

Lena smiled for the first time since this morning when the day began. “If this continues on any longer, I don’t think you or I will be faking.”

You scoffed softly before sitting back in your seat.

“This invention is a waste of time,” someone else chimed in, and at that, Lena’s smile took a nosedive.

The invention in question? It was nanotech research in relation to diabetes. Type 1 to be more precise. Lena and her scientists developed a means of treating the autoimmune disease. Type 1 diabetes was when the immune system targeted and destroyed islet cells in the pancreas. This disrupts and halts insulin production. Lena and her scientists proposed using nanobots. They could attach themselves to the islet cells and protect them from any attacking white blood cells. Of course, the project was expensive, but it was hardly a dent in her checkbook at the end of the day. Lena was the one to eat most of the costs when her shareholders and investors discovered how expensive such a project was. They hardly spent any money at all on this, and to hear that distasteful opinion of it being a waste of time made Lena bristle.

“How are any of us expected to make money off this???”

Lena sat up, officially unamused and no longer entertained. She opened her mouth to tear into the man that barked the loudest. Her intention was to verbally castrate him, to tear him apart, and to emasculate him, but you sat up and spoke before she could utter a syllable.

“Gentlemen,” you began as you clicked through some files on your computer. “According to the financial reports that were collected within the last few fiscal years, barely any investors contributed monetarily to this project. If the worst were to happen, and the project were to fail completely, only the investors that contributed would lose significant money. In which, Lena would reimburse them in totality as is dictated by the contracts that she signed. However, considering how relatively inexpensive it is to create the materials and technology needed for this treatment, and the fact that Lena will make this accessible to the general public, you, as the shareholder, or investor that contributed, will not lose any money to this.”

The man scoffed and crossed his arms. “We are not in this for the charity work.”

You couldn’t stop the scoff that left you. “God forbid we help people who can’t help themselves.”

The man’s face turned an ugly, turbid shade of crimson at your quip. It was clear that he wasn’t used to the push back he heard, especially from an assistant that was nowhere near the tax bracket he occupied. Lena was looking at you, the shock on her face ill-hidden along with the impressed look that made her lips twitch into a faint smile. Though you could feel how proud she was of you, you celebrated that in the privacy of your mind, the high you were feeling spurring you on as Mr. Business Man seemed to teeter on the verge of a stroke.

“In case you’ve forgotten, Lena is a philanthropist. Which means by nature, she is going to help people. If your main motivator is money, this may not be the right business venture for you, especially if a dollar is worth more to you than a human life. It is rare for an invention of hers to fail, which I can prove with her past business ventures if you’d like. And yet, you’re treating it as if it already is because the sole purpose of this is to help others and not put more money in your pocket.”

Lena snickered, and it wasn’t just her. The others at the conference table laughed quietly as well as you laid into the guy that opened his mouth. At this point in the day, you just wanted to go home. The sun was already descending below the horizon, and the sky was now decorated in bright hues of yellow, orange, and pink colors. Your stomach growled hungrily. You’d devoured your lunch three meetings ago, and the promise of iced bourbon in Lena’s SUV was too much of a blessed reprieve to pass up now. You wanted the torture to stop so that you could go home.

Lena’s yappy investor stood onto his feet without another word, silenced, furious, and slightly humiliated as he made his way to the door. The room could barely contain their chuckles of amusement as you gently closed your laptop and slid it back into your backpack.

“I think that concludes today’s meeting, gentlemen,” Lena said as she began to gather her things.

+++

On the drive back to L-Corp, you groaned in relief as the burn of alcohol slithered cooly down your throat to settle deliciously into your stomach. You welcomed the burn, the slight discomfort of the bourbon just what you needed to bid farewell to such a shitty day. Lena was already on her third glass, and you had to admit this: that woman could drink. You knew that there was a story behind her elevated tolerance, but if it was due to the things that you witnessed today, you figured that it was perhaps a survival response.

“You did good in there,” Lena complimented genuinely. She was still smiling. Though it wasn’t as wide as it was during the meeting, it was still there. Just softer and more reserved for the intimate space that you shared in her car.

“Please don’t ever make me do anything like that again. At least, not without a pay raise.”

Lena’s smile widened, the amusement twinkling in her eyes. “No promises. Regardless, please enjoy your weekend.”

The car stopped by yours, to your surprise, and when you looked out the window, you noticed that you were back in the parking lot of L-Corp. You swallowed and began to gather your things before you hesitated. That bourbon was needed but it wasn’t enough. Not after what you survived.

“Lena, tonight is happy hour at Al’s Dive Bar. I can’t promise you that the drinks are more expensive than what you have, but I can promise that they’re cold and if nothing else, cheap. Would you like to go? It won’t be just me. Kara, Alex and her fiancée, and some others will be there.”

Lena’s smile morphed from amusement to something polite. “I appreciate that, Y/n, however, I have more work to do tonight. Please enjoy the night out with your friends and tell Kara that I said hi.”

You nodded, respecting her decision but still bummed that she refused. You took your things, bid her goodnight, before getting out of her car to get into your own. She drove away after waiting to make sure that you got into your car safely, and you concluded your workday by driving off L-Corp’s parking lot.

+++

The sound of something scratching against the door was what woke you up. You were still in your work clothes, the cotton now stiff and reeking of light body odor and alcohol. To say that you were disoriented was an understatement. You could hardly remember last night in its entirety. Bits and pieces of broken memories flitted through your mind, but the moment the alcohol started flowing, it all went downhill. You’re happy to know that you got home safe. So, either someone delivered you here, or you drunkenly gotten an Uber. You were more surprised to see that you made it to your couch and not to your bedroom.

As you awoke, the room spun slowly, and you groaned as the scratching on your door continued. The sound was grating, the noise just constant and consistent enough to overstimulate your tired brain. The slight ache in your head and the dry feeling in your mouth was indicative of the hangover you’ve yet to process, and when the scratching didn’t stop, you groaned and slowly got onto your feet.

Something within you cracked, the loud pops of bones easing back into their rightful places making you grimace at the slight pain of what little relief washed through you. You trudged to the front door as you decided between swearing at whoever was here at this ungodly hour, or attempting to be polite, though you looked and smelled like something that needed to be buried. You were just settling on doing your best, your clumsy fingers fiddling with the locks before the metal slid back, and your heavy, sluggish hand turned the knob to open the door. Something, and not someone, darted into your apartment. With your blurry vision, you couldn’t make out what it was before it disappeared under your couch, but you did make out the streak of black, sleek fur and four paws before your home invader darted out of sight.

“Hey!” you exclaimed as you tried to grab the cat before it could get away.

You bent over, your intention to scoop the feline into your hold to usher it gently back into the hallway, but the sudden movement made you woozy.  Instead, you groaned and cradled your head in a clammy hand while a wave of nausea crashed over you. That was NOT a good idea. At all. And fuck it honestly. Whatever it was that got in here would realize that they were in the wrong place, and they would beg to be let out to go home. You weren’t going to bother with trying to coerce the cat out. It wasn’t like you were going to get far in your current state and the cat wasn’t hurting you. The only things on your mind were a much-needed shower and to brush your teeth. The stale taste in your mouth was not helping your situation.

You got undressed and checked your phone, noting the texts from Alex saying that she was the one to take you back home and deliver your car to your place. You sent a message back expressing your gratitude and asking for her hangover relief smoothie. If Lena wanted you back at work on Monday, and resembling something human, you needed to take the edge of lingering inebriation away from your body. The moment it was sent, you were under the soothing and calming spray of the shower. You reveled under the warmth and steam. Your soap did wonders at chasing the filthy feeling of dirt and sweat away from your skin as you lathered your body. You didn’t want to make it long, though you’d consume the hot water of the entire building with the kind of heavenly water pressure your new bathroom had. You were out with clean clothes adorning your body and a towel wrapped around your hair. When you emerged from your room and returned to the living room, you were delighted to see your new friend exploring their new surroundings. When it heard you approach, the cat stopped in their tracks and looked at you languidly. They weren’t afraid, just curious and explorative. The cat's body remained as relaxed as ever, their tail twitching with heightened energy.

“Well, hello there,” you greeted, and you were surprised to hear a happy meow followed by the cat approaching you.

You smiled, noting just how friendly the cat was to you as you extended your hand to let it sniff you. It seemed to deliberate its decision to proceed, the soft and sensitive pink flesh of its nose twitching with interest and thought. You were about to back off when the cat decidedly pressed its head into your open hand. You laughed a bit as the cat meowed again and rubbed the full length of its lithe body against your exposed skin. Just when you thought that this encounter couldn’t get any better, it started to purr. Loudly. Strong vibrations emanating from such a small body had you staring in shock.

“Goddamn!” you exclaimed as you gently picked up the cat and held it close. It cuddled into you instantly, and you reveled in the way its body vibrated with contentment. “I think you’re packing a diesel engine in that body.”

You eyed the soft green of its collar, a color that matched the green in its eyes, and you found the tag.

“Stormy, huh?” you murmured as you read her name. “Whelp. It’s nice to meet you, though this is considered breaking and entering.”

Stormy chirped and rubbed her forehead against your cheek, her purrs increasing in volume to your astonishment. You didn’t have any pets of your own, and therefore, didn’t have any food for her, however, you were pretty sure that you had a can of tuna in the cupboard. You set her down and went to retrieve her impromptu meal, preparing it and plating it before giving it to her. While she waited, Stormy encircled your legs excitedly, her tail twitching with anticipation when her nose twitched at the promise of food. She wasn’t skinny or neglected, so you were sure that she belonged to someone. Maybe your new home was very lenient about free wandering cats. Or she escaped, which seemed highly likely given her personality. Most cats don’t enter strangers' homes unless something was wrong. Either way, Stormy was safe with you, and you would set her free whenever she wanted to leave.

You’d just set the food down near your dining table when a knock came at the door. You released your damp hair from the towel, and hung the towel over your arm, when you answered the door. Standing on the other side of it was none other than your boss looking more disheveled than you’ve ever seen her.

“Lena?” you asked as you took her in with worrisome eyes.

She seemed to be flustered and upset. She was dressed in old sweats, her hair thrown into a messy bun. Her eyes flitted every so often, her pupils shifting erratically as she looked around you. It was like she was taking in everything that she saw all at once. You. The towel draped around your arm. The empty and bright space behind you. The sunlight that filtered through the open blinds of your window. Her jaw was clenched from stress, the muscles protruding from the bone, but when she saw you, you saw the green in her eyes settle. Soften. It wasn’t enough to remove the tension from her completely, but she did look a little relieved to see you. In her hands was a picture that was slightly crumpled.

“Y/n, I’m sorry to disturb you. Have you seen this cat?”

When you looked at it, you were amused to see none other than your feline friend. You gave Lena a smile. “Oh, you mean this one?”

You moved out of the way, your body hiding Stormy from Lena’s immediate line of sight. Stormy was still at the plate, meowing and chirping happily as she munched on her tuna. Lena was relieved to see her, but she didn’t look happy. If anything, she looked confused.

“Did she come here by herself?” Lena asked you skeptically, and you nodded.

“She technically broke in. I heard her pawing at my door, and the moment I opened it, she darted inside.”

Lena’s frown deepened at that, and you hadn’t noticed that anything was wrong with your answers until you saw her facial expression.

“Is something… the matter?” you asked slowly, nervousness creeping into your voice.

Stormy finished her meal and set to the task of grooming herself. You and Lena watched her raptly as you looked between the two to try and solve whatever dynamic this was. Eventually, Lena huffed and looked at you.

“She’s not this forthcoming with strangers. If anything, Stormy can be positively irate around people she doesn’t know.”

Not even a second after Lena’s explanation, Stormy was rubbing her body against you, her purrs back in full force. Lena looked between you and her cat, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to understand the enigma of the situation unfurling to life before her. You raised your eyebrows, all previous thoughts of your hangover gone as lucidity washed over you in a force that made you shiver. It was either that, or the way Lena was staring at you so intently. You knew that you hadn’t done anything wrong, but the way that she was looking at you made you feel like you got caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar. To break the mounting tension, you cleared your throat and leaned down to pet Stormy. She purred happily, her eyes squinting as she leaned her entire body weight into your touch.

“Soooo, your cat...?” you prompted, and Lena nodded.

“Stormy.”

It was all that she said, and Stormy meowed sweetly before departing from your side. She followed Lena out the door. You peaked your head out of your apartment, only your eyes visible in the hallway as you watched your boss and neighbor return to her apartment. She didn’t say anything else, but she did glance oddly at her companion frequently.

“Have a good weekend?” you called after her, your voice unsure given whatever this interaction was supposed to be. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst interaction you could ever have with someone, let alone, someone that you worked for, but that didn’t make it any less awkward.

Lena hesitated briefly with her hand on the doorknob. She looked at you, her expression now neutral as she gave you a polite nod. “You too.”

Who was this person?

She stepped inside with Stormy following her and was gone. You blew out a puff of air, your cheeks expanding and your eyes widening as you closed and locked the door behind you. In your pocket, your phone vibrated, a text from Alex when she sent you the recipe to her smoothie you asked for earlier. You thanked her for everything that she did to take care of you last night, but you weren't going to need the smoothie. Not anymore.

+++

Lena looked more frazzled than ever when you walked into work the following Monday morning. She was already moving around, her long, muscular legs carrying her through the office in circles as she mindlessly grabbed at things while putting others down randomly.

This morning, you woke up early enough to make yourself a breakfast, and while you were at it, you made one for Lena too, knowing that she didn’t eat enough for your liking. Also, on your way to work, you grabbed her signature latte. Every drop of caffeine was going to be a godsend. Today was going to be a long day, and there was no way that you were going to let Lena starve herself. If you came off as pushy, so be it. You’d force feed her if she continued to be stubborn. The moment you entered her office, you wordlessly and neatly deposited her breakfast onto her desk and went into yours to get ready for the day.

Seeing Lena running around hectically was to be expected, but you were exhausted just looking at her. Today was full of nonstop meetings, one after the other. This morning, and through this afternoon, was dedicated to all her American business partners. Tonight, and throughout it, was dedicated to her international partners. Lena reassured you repeatedly that she did not expect you to work into the early twilight hours of what would be the next day, but you knew that this would be infinitely harder without help. Would she be able to do it? Yes, of course. You didn’t doubt her not one bit, but you could help her as well. After all, you were her personal assistant.

During the day, you stayed out of the way, only assisting Lena in the background. Your primary job was to take notes and schedule any future meetings with her respective partners if it was required. In between meetings, you worked on extraneous assignments. While Lena was busy, you approved a budget for a new project involving a transition to clean energy for National City’s hospitals. You drafted new contracts. Approved or decline contracts that were sent to Lena.

In the midst of it all, Kara texted you, asking how you were doing. It was a few days into the job, and she wanted to make sure that you were handling things okay. You let her know that working for Lena was perfect. Lena knew what she wanted, and she didn’t fuck around when it came to her work. She was dedicated through and through, and it showed. Lena Luthor was a powerful woman, and she carried her power in a different way than her family did. It wasn’t like you believed that she was anything like her brother. L-Corp was proof that Lena was on the opposite end of the spectrum than Lex. Where Lex wanted to be worshipped and regularly tried to use his money and influence to achieve what he wanted for himself, Lena was satisfied with helping people. She wanted to prove that she was not him, but beyond that, she didn’t care what anyone else thought of her. You respected that. She kept her focus on the goal, and it felt good to be a part of something organic. Real.

Kara congratulated you on the job and for finding your place in it. She recognized how genuinely happy you were, and how easy it was to integrate yourself into L-Corp in such a short time of you being there. You had to remind her that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. So, you thanked her, one might say profusely, for what she did to get you here in this current moment in your life. Kara was typing back, the three dots appearing on your phone screen, when a sudden and harsh expletive from Lena’s mouth sliced through the air like a scalpel through flesh. It made you stiffen in your seat.

You were sitting across from her, sharing the space on her massive desk as you typed notes and shared them with her on a saved file. You were working quietly, the tranquility of the space interrupted by your phone every time it vibrated softly from Kara’s texts. If Lena was bothered by your phone, she didn’t say anything. Her gaze, and her concentration, was glued to her laptop screen. You were used to the soft, shared clacks of keyboard keys as you and Lena typed. She wasn’t really one for small conversation, which didn’t bother you one bit. You kept to yourself and kept quiet unless she addressed you directly. It was why hearing her swear made you jump and look at her with shock and concern. Lena sat back in her seat and groaned. Her fingers pinched the bridge of her nose as she squeezed her eyes shut in irritation.

“Is everything okay?” you asked softly.

By this point, the sun had long since set. The sky was an inky blue, the stars and moon bright in the sky. The skyline was ablaze with light, the sight spectacular if you stood on top of a building to observe it. From Lena’s office, it was still pretty, but the bright fluorescence of her office muted the hazy glow of the city lights outside. This was the brief intermission between meetings as you began the transition from Lena’s domestic partners to her international ones. You didn’t know what to expect but based off how the day was going so far, you assumed that the night wouldn’t be too much different.

Evidently, you were wrong.

“The translator that I hired won’t be attending the meetings for tonight. This couldn’t have happened at the worst time!”

You assumed that the meetings would be happening in English, which in hindsight, wasn’t the best assumption to make. Maybe you could help.

“I’m going to have to cancel these,” Lena murmured with tired resignation.

“Do you have to?” you asked genuinely, and Lena nodded somberly.

“There are a few languages that I can speak, but I have many partners whose languages I haven’t had a chance to learn.”

“Google translate is always an option, yes?”

At that, Lena looked at you like you’d grown a second head. The fact that you would suggest a translating website was preposterous. Suggesting Google, which was perhaps the most incorrect service out there, was just plain insulting. Her frown deepened, and if the situation wasn’t as serious as it was, you would laugh. It looked like Lena would rather cut off her own fingers than to ever resort to something like Google translate.

“Well, who do we have meetings with?” you asked, changing the topic.

Lena flipped through her calendar, the tip of her finger gently running down the smooth page as she read the itinerary for tonight. When you heard the list of places, a smile spread across your lips. This was actually going to be a very successful night for you and her, and Lena didn’t seem to know.

“Don’t cancel anything.”

It was all that you said, and Lena hesitated as she looked at you.

“I really don’t think we’re going to get far once we run into a language barrier.”

She said it like it should be obvious, your excitement confusing to her.

“Trust me, Lena,” you told her, your eyes shining with confidence and determination. “We’re going to get through this. Now, when was the last time you’ve drank water? I haven’t seen you touch your water bottle in the last few hours.”

You let Lena handle the meetings where you knew that they would converse in English. London. Ireland. The Netherlands. Mainly some of the European countries. It took a few hours, but Lena concluded the last meeting of that region before she sat back and looked at you nervously. The next meeting started, and you sat up straight as you turned your attention to Lena’s laptop screen.

“I hope that you know what you’re doing,” she said quietly enough that only you would hear it. You gave her a wink as you turned towards the men and women who were convened for the conference.

This meeting was in India, and everyone knew that Indians were more than capable of speaking English. India is the most diverse multilingual country in the world, speaking more than over one hundred languages and various mother tongues in the territory alone. Of course, they spoke English. However, you also knew that one of India’s primary languages was Hindi… and you felt like showing off.

“आप सब का स्वागत है. इस संगठन में आने किलये धन्यवाद.”

Lena wasn’t the only person with an incredulous expression. The members of the conference were the same, mirroring her facial expressions as you started the meeting. From their perspective, seeing and interacting with a translator wasn’t anything new, but still surprising, nonetheless. However, for Lena, she didn’t know that you could speak Hindi. Not like she thought to ask. She could only stare as she watched you say something to make her partners laugh respectfully. As the meeting progressed, you wrote notes and highlighted all the important information that Lena would need to know for the future.

The moment the meeting ended, Lena could only stare at you as you prepared for the next one. You took a drink of your water and cracked your knuckles. The feeling of a successful meeting was like no other, the adrenaline making you feel powerful, and you flipped a page in your notebook to start your next meeting notes on a clean sheet of paper.

Lena was silent as she typed the notes that you handed to her. Her fingers flew over the keys expertly on her laptop, but every so often, you could feel her eyes on you. You looked at her and smiled.

“What?”

“What?” Lena echoed as she stared at you, her tone slightly disbelieving as she repeated your word. “What do you mean ‘what’? You just spoke fluent Hindi.”

You chuckled bashfully, your cheeks coloring a shy pink. “There are many things that I can do, Ms. Luthor. The night is still young.”

The next meeting was with Lena’s business partners in Djibouti. And their language was one you hadn’t had a chance to speak in a really long time. 

“Bonjour à tous. Merci pour votre temps aujourd'hui.”

The work that Lena was doing with the citizens of Djibouti was admirable. She was helping them create a new type of crop through gene splicing of other native African species. The goal was to grow food that needed very little water to survive. Because the area was a desert climate, water was a precious resource, one that would better serve the population in Lena’s opinion. They were coming close to a breakthrough in their research, which was what they were sharing with you now.

Another positive update from another of Lena’s business ventures. The night was promising and full of positive updates all around. It seemed as though Lena’s influence reached beyond National City. After Djibouti, you jumped right into your next meeting, which was Pakistan.

“السلام علیکم معزز خواتین و حضرات”

Lena’s mouth dropped with astonishment. Urdu was a hard language to learn, the pronunciation and syntax still something that she struggled with. And yet, you were speaking it perfectly. Fluently. Effortlessly. It was, yet, another surprise, another little mystery that did little to quell the mounting curiosity that was unfurling to life inside of Lena.

You stood up and went to your lunch box, excusing yourself from the camera briefly, to grab some food and place it in front of Lena. You gave her an expectant look, your mouth tight with seriousness as you looked into her widening eyes. It was early into the next day, and not once did you see her eat any food. You were serious about this issue. Lena needed to take better care of herself.

“Eat,” you mouthed silently to her before you grabbed your water bottle and made your way back to your seat.

Lena paused in her writing, her eyes wide and her mouth agape as she stared at the salad and fruit that you grabbed for her during the day. A small smile, one that you seldomly saw, spread across her lips, gentle and conserved. Lena didn’t realize just how hungry she was until her stomach growled ravenously. For once, she wasn’t going to argue with you. She opened her salad and ate it, the crisp lettuce and savory vegetables filling her with a satisfaction and relief that she needed. You smiled, watching her eat from the corner of your eye as you resumed the meeting.

Japan. The last meeting of the workday as the sun began to rise. The sky was beginning to highlight a deep orange. The first rays of light already kissed the horizon in the distance. Exhaustion was weighing on you, and you wondered how it was that you were going to get home. You didn’t feel alert enough to drive, and if you were being honest, you would sleep in Lena’s office, or your own, if given the opportunity. You were that exhausted. Regardless, you persevered, the knowledge of finishing this off with good morale and rapport with all of Lena’s partners pushing you to the finish line of one of the longest workdays ever.

“おはよお ございます 皆さん.”

Should she even be surprised? At this point, the answer should be no. Yet. Lena could only chuckle and shake her head. She was tired, and she wanted to shut her eyes if that meant that she could sleep, but despite the uncomfortable heaviness of fatigue, she was thoroughly impressed with you. You saved her more than you could have realized. The translator she hired came highly recommended to her, and due to their services, both in the business and legislative worlds, it was hard to find one on such short notice. Lena was sure that she would have to reschedule everything once she got a replacement translator, which would have made her postpone everything for months. Her entire schedule would have been utterly fucked. You saved her ass, and the moment the meeting concluded, she had already scheduled you a ride home with her driver.

You sat back in the seat and rubbed your eyes. They felt heavy, no doubt a consequence from staring at a computer screen for hours at a time without breaks. You heard Lena moving in the background, but you were too tired to see what she was doing.

“Go home,” she said as she packed up your stuff and hers. “Derek is waiting for you. Your car is safe in the parking lot, and I don’t feel comfortable with you driving anyway.”

You didn’t argue, even as you watched Lena hand you your stuff while hers remained on her desk.

“You need rest too, Ms. Luthor.”

Lena nodded. “There are a few small things that I need to finish, but rest assured that I will be headed home soon for a shower and my bed.”

You hummed at that thought. “A bed,” you mumbled sleepily as she escorted you to the elevator and out of the building.

Lena smirked and helped you into the car. “You’re taking the next two days off, do you understand? Rest and recover. I’ll see you back here soon. Thank you for everything that you did for me today.”

“We did good?”

You were entering the delirious phase of sleep deprivation. Though Lena got you into the car and buckled you in, you still wobbled in place like you were drunk.

“Please get her home safe and sound, Derek,” Lena said to her driver.

He nodded and tipped his hat respectfully. “Right away, ma’am.”

“Can I see Stormy again?” you asked randomly, your words beginning to slur.

Lena raised her eyebrows but nodded with a small smile on her lips. “I don’t see why not. She likes you apparently.”

“Hey!” you protested, your voice bordering indignation. “I’m a very likable person.”

Lena had to concede to that. You are a very likable person. It was easy to be overwhelmed by your personality. You were everything that she wasn’t. Positive. Good-Natured. Soft-Hearted. These were all admirable traits to have, and once upon a time ago, Lena had them too. It was just that surviving the Luthor name tended to treat it all like a weakness and strip it clean from the individual forced to shoulder its legacy. Lena deeply appreciated you and was glad that you were employed under her. A strange kind of protectiveness was beginning to awaken in her. She remembered when she used to be like this, when life was full of promise. You were like sunshine to Lena. A breath of fresh air. It was soothing, and she could see how you and Kara knew each other.

Birds of a feather.

Lena didn’t dawdle. Not as if this conversation wasn’t amusing, but you needed sleep, and she didn’t want you outside of your home in such a vulnerable state.

“Rest.”

You nodded at Lena’s word and sat back in the seat. Lena closed the door gently and stood back as Derek drove you away.

Lena’s smile slowly fell away, but the fondness for you remained a constant inside of her. She was glad that you were here. She was glad that you decided to work at L-Corp.

Lena was glad that you were in her life.

[writing-the-stars]

Quiet Betrayal

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary: As the team closes in on Doyle, Emily disappears— leaving behind more questions than answers. In the wreckage of her absence, you're left to grapple with the truth she never said, and the quiet betrayal of being shut out.

Warnings: ANGST!!! (It gets worse), Still No Happy Ending, Emotional Distress/Distance, No Use of Y/N or Physical Descriptors (At least, not that I recall). Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Hey guys! As I mentioned in the previous part, this is a story that follows the Ian Doyle arc of the show. If you haven't read the first part, go ahead and check it out! There will be two more parts after this and maybe an epilogue if anyone wants one. Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy and that you have a wonderful remainder of your day!!!

Masterlist | Criminal Minds Masterlist

Part 1: Quiet Withdrawals

The space between you and Emily has grown into something palpable. Where there used to be easy camaraderie, there is only silence. No more witty banter, no more teasing, no quiet smiles shared over inside jokes. You’ve become strangers— standing side by side, saying all the right things to everyone but each other. Each task feels like an exercise in restraint. Your body moves instinctively further from hers. Your words are clipped and professional, stripped of the warmth they once carried. It’s like watching something slowly decay— something you were never ready to let go of.

Garcia is the first to notice. Of course she is.

She has an uncanny sense of when something’s wrong. She doesn’t say anything at first— just watches, catching the flicker of emotion in your eyes you can't quite bury. She knows you’re hurting, and she’s not going to let you retreat into yourself.

“Hey,” Garcia starts, her voice softer than usual, “can I talk to you for a second?”

She corners you during a break in the investigation where everyone is off to their own corners, following a lead. You glance at her, already feeling the lump rise in your throat. But you nod, letting her guide you into the nearest restroom before the emotions can spill out in front of anyone else.

Once the door closes, Garcia turns to you, her expression gentle but firm.

“What’s going on?” she asks. “I know something’s up. You and Emily... you’re like strangers to each other. What happened?”

The question breaks something in you. Maybe because it’s the first time anyone’s asked. Maybe because it’s the first time you’ve let yourself feel it.

“She’s... been pulling away,” you say, voice thick. “I don’t even know why.” You blink hard, trying to hold back the tears— but it’s no use. They come anyway.

“I was just trying to be there for her. But she told me I was suffocating.”

You swipe at your cheeks, embarrassed by how quickly you’ve unraveled. The pain in your chest is unbearable, this constant, twisting ache you can’t shake no matter how hard you try to move on. You take a shaky breath, fingers curling around the edge of the sink to steady yourself.

“She asked for space,” you say. But then your voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “And I’m trying to respect that, I am, but it just—”

You stop. There’s no neat way to say what this is doing to you.

“I thought... I thought we were on the same page, Penny. I thought we were actually going somewhere.”

The words hang in the air like an apology. Maybe to Garcia. Maybe to yourself.

You stare down at the sink, blinking hard, jaw clenched. “I just want her to talk to me. To tell me what’s going on. But instead, I feel like I’m invisible to her.”

Garcia places a hand on your shoulder, grounding you.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “I know you care about her. And she cares about you too. But sometimes... sometimes people need space even when it’s hard. Even when it doesn’t make sense.”

You nod, though it doesn’t make you feel any better. It’s like understanding something logically but still being gutted by it emotionally.

“Maybe she just needs some time to figure things out. If she’s pulling away, there’s a reason. You’ve gotta give her the space she asked for— even when it hurts like hell.. You can’t force her to come back before she’s ready.”

Before you can respond, the door creaks open behind you. Your eyes jet to the reflection in the mirror and your heart stutters.

There she is.

Emily’s silhouette fills the doorway. Her presence is immediate and disarming, like a sudden drop in temperature. Your lungs tighten. Your chest burns.

You stiffen, instinctively wiping at your eyes, but it’s too late— she’s already seen. You don’t want her to see you like this. Don’t want her to know she’s the reason you feel like this.

You can’t breathe. The sight of her, so close but so far away, makes the pain flare up again, raw and jagged. 

She freezes, eyes locking with yours. And for the briefest moment, something cracks open between you— something raw and unspoken. Her lips part, like she’s about to say something.

But you’ve had enough.

Something inside you snaps.

You push past her without thinking, shoulder brushing hers, ignoring the way your skin reacts to the contact like it still remembers how close you used to be.

You don’t want to hear whatever she has to say. Not when it’s too late. Not when she’s already halfway gone.

You storm out, your pulse pounding, your throat tight with all the words you’ve been swallowing for weeks. You want to scream. You want to make her see what she’s doing to you. But you don’t.

You just keep walking.

Letting the hurt churn inside you like a storm you can’t outrun.

Because you don’t know what else to do.

The bullpen is quiet, heads bent over files and laptops, the low hum of work filling the space. But your entrance— your expression— breaks the rhythm like a sour note in a symphony.

“Hey, you okay?” Seaver asks from across the room, concern etched in her features as she straightens in her chair.

You wave a hand without meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just tired.”

It’s a lie so thin it almost snaps mid-air.

Morgan watches you with that perceptive calm he’s always had, like he’s weighing your words and finding them wanting. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently.

You manage a smile, tight and hollow. “Just needed a breather. That’s all.”

You sit down at your desk, back ramrod straight, hands fidgeting with the edge of a case file you’re not actually reading. You don’t trust yourself to speak again.

And then Reid— quiet, thoughtful Reid— tilts his head and squints at you like he’s analyzing a variable that doesn’t belong.

“You’ve been crying,” he says plainly. Not unkind, just... observant. “Your eyes are red.”

You freeze.

The air in the room stills, attention sharpening like a knife’s edge.

You don’t look up. You don’t have to. You can feel Emily watching you.

Your heart kicks hard in your chest, but you keep your voice steady. “Thanks, Reid,” you murmur. “Really subtle.”

He blinks, confused, then seems to realize. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” you cut in, sharper than you intend. You force a laugh to smooth it over. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

But no one’s buying it. You’re not fine, and you don’t have the energy to pretend you are. 

From the corner of your eye, you catch Emily standing a few paces behind Garcia. Her arms are crossed, but there’s no tension in the pose. You wonder if she feels the same way you do— that ache, that constant sense of something lost and unspoken.

You wonder if there’s a twisting in her gut the way there is in yours.

For a second, your eyes meet. And then you look away.

Because it’s easier to pretend you’re just tired than to admit that you’re unraveling.

-*-

The air in the bullpen is sharp with urgency, and for once, throughout the chaos of the past 20 days, you find comfort in it. It gives you something to focus on, something to bury yourself in. You push everything else aside— the sting behind your eyes, the echo of Emily’s almost-words in the restroom, the way Garcia had watched you leave with worry carved into every line of her face. None of that matters now. This is what you’re good at. This is where you’re needed.

But even as you force yourself to concentrate, you can’t ignore the shift in Emily.

She’s colder than usual. Sharper. Her voice cuts through the room like a knife when she speaks, barking out orders and updates with none of her usual warmth. Where she once offered calm insight, she now snaps out terse commands. You see it in the way her jaw tightens every time Doyle’s name is mentioned, in how she flinches— barely, but enough— whenever someone mentions her time with Interpol. The closer you all get to the heart of the case, the more she withdraws, and when she doesn’t withdraw, she fights.

She isn’t just building walls now— she’s reinforcing them with barbed wire.

“I got four names from the bottom of the list Prentiss gave us,” Morgan announces as he strides into the room, waving a sticky note.

He rattles them off and Seaver points out they all share the initials L.R. Hotch informs us that the CIA uses cryptograms like that for non-official cover agents. Morgan notes we’re not the only ones, pulling out the spreadsheet we’ve been using, explaining that other countries follow similar coding systems. 

Garcia frowns, interrupting. “Wait. No. This isn’t right.”

She reveals that there is a missing name. Another spy with the L.R. codename. 

A beat of silence.

“Lauren Reynolds is dead,” Reid says quietly.

“What?”

All eyes turn to him. You step closer, heart tightening.

“Prentiss said that on a phone call 17 days ago. But her intonation wasn’t surprise or grief. It was like a mantra, like she was reminding herself.” He looks up: “Lauren Reynolds, L.R.”

“If Prentiss is the last name on that list,” you say, your voice low and tight, dread coiling in your gut, “then she’s on Doyle’s list too.”

The sickening realization falls over you. Suddenly, a thousand little details start making sense, all the unanswered questions, the evasion, the tension— everything Emily never said.

And then Hotch calls your attention, Emily’s badge and gun in his hands. You blink, confused. She left them. Why would she leave them? You wonder, Morgan echoing your thoughts. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Spencer mutters, brows furrowed. “Why run? We’re her family. We can help.” 

But you’re no longer listening. Your mind is spiraling, detached from the room as it starts to close in around you. Hurt claws at your chest. Betrayal burns in your throat. How could she hide something like this from you? 

Something inside you splinters.

You don’t realize how tightly you’ve been gripping the edge of the desk until your fingers ache. A rush of heat flares behind your eyes, but you force it down. Not here. Not now.

“She just—left?” The words barely escape your mouth— fractured, stunned.

Rossi connects the final dot: Emily kept the connection a secret because Doyle has been targeting families. And since she has no spouse and isn’t close with her biological family, she considers the BAU her family and wants to keep us as safe from Doyle as she can. She ran to protect you.

Hotch is already in motion, shifting the profile. Now the victim is one of our own.

The room explodes into activity, but none of it reaches you. Everything around you is muffled. All you hear is the pounding in your ears and the echo of a thought you can’t shake:

I thought we were on the same page.

You thought wrong.

You try to swallow the ache, but it sticks— thick and sharp at the back of your throat. It’s not just that she left. It’s how she left. Without warning. Without explanation. Without you.

You’d spent weeks wondering what you’d done wrong, what changed, why she pulled away. Now you know. The whole time, she was preparing for this. The distance wasn’t confusion. It was intention.

She’d been walking herself out of your life, one cold glance, one clipped word at a time.

You sink into your chair, hands limp in your lap. Your skin feels too tight, your clothes too loud against your nerves. Everyone else is moving, working— coping— but you can’t.

Your heart’s still stuck at her empty desk.

Garcia places a file beside you, gentle, like she’s placing flowers at a grave. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. Her eyes are already rimmed with red.

You flip the folder open without really seeing it. The words blur. Dates, aliases, mission reports— all the pieces of a life Emily kept hidden from you. You want to be angry. You want to scream.

But you’re too tired.

And hollow.

And quietly destroyed.

Hotch calls everyone into the conference room. You rise automatically— muscles moving while your mind stays behind. As you walk, your gaze catches on her desk. Her chair. Her coffee mug. Empty.

You wonder if she knew how badly this would hurt.

You wonder if it mattered.

“Okay, so I talked to a friend from Langley,” J.J., whose return would have thrilled you more under better circumstances, annonces as soon as you sit down. “He couldn’t give me Emily’s full CIA history, but he could give me this.”

J.J. turns. The screen lights up with a dossier. Emily’s undercover profile. Lauren Reynolds. JTF-12.

You stare at the photo on the monitor, at the version of her that feels like a stranger— steel-eyed, unrecognizable.

The kind of woman who keeps the truth behind a locked door, even from the person lying next to her.

J.J. continues, listing team members, operations, timelines. Her voice fades behind the rush in your ears.

Until the focus shifts again— to Emily. And your attention snaps back.

“She made contact with him in Boston to get intel on Valhalla,” J.J. informs you all, pulling up more pictures of Lauren on the screen. “She was posing as another weapons dealer.”

Morgan flips through the printed photos of her. “Look at how she’s dressed,” he comments, “She seems awfully comfortable.”

“How close did she get to Doyle as part of their cover?” Hotch asks, shifting the attention back to J.J.

And she delivers the blow that knocks the breath from your lungs— Emily and Doyle weren’t just connected. They were romantically involved. 

You hear the sharp inhale Garcia makes. Morgan swears under his breath. You’re frozen. The edges of your vision blur as your stomach drops, hollow and sick.

Emily and Doyle.

She’d slept beside him, smiled at him, kissed him, let him have access to her in a way she hadn’t reserved just for you after all. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick.

You force yourself to stay still, to keep your face neutral— but inside, you’re unraveling. Fury blooms in your chest, hot and wild beneath your ribs. Your eyes sting. The fluorescent lights are suddenly too harsh. You blink, trying to anchor yourself, but the room tilts sideways.

You don’t know what you’re feeling more— betrayed, heartbroken, or stupid.

Because now, all you can think about is that night.

Emily insisted on cooking, though you can tell it has been a long day by the way she moves— mechanical, quiet, eyes far away. Still, she’s trying. She always tries with you.

You offered to help, but she waved you off with a tired smile and a dry, “Unless you’ve got magic risotto powers, I’d sit and enjoy the wine before it vanishes.”

So you sit, and watch her— shoulders tense under a worn t-shirt, hair pulled back, brow furrowed in concentration like the kitchen is just another crime scene to solve.

“Why do I feel like you’re profiling my stirring technique?” she asks you without turning.

“Because I am,” you reply, grinning behind the rim of your glass.

She turns just enough to shoot you a look over her shoulder, playful but unreadable. “Well, stop. It's not that interesting.”

“It is to me.”

That gives her pause. For a second, she just stands there, wooden spoon in hand, blinking at the pot like she’s forgotten what she’s doing.

You see the shift. A flicker of something behind her eyes— fear, maybe. Or the possibility of something good. She doesn’t say anything, just turns back to the stove.

When dinner is finished, you both sit on the couch, plates balanced on your knees, some old movie playing low in the background. The conversation has quieted into something easy, unspoken.

At one point, your shoulders brush.

She doesn’t move away.

And then, after a long stretch of silence, she says it. Barely above a whisper.

“I’m not used to this.”

You look over at her, confusion pulling your brow, “Used to what?”

She hesitates. “Someone showing up and staying.”

The words sit between you, raw and careful. You want to reach for her, but you don’t. You just nod and say, “I’m not going anywhere.”

She doesn’t answer. But her hand finds yours, resting between you on the cushion.

And in that moment, you believed she was starting to let you in. How foolish you feel now. All those nights you shared a bottle of wine, talking in low voices about the worst days of your lives. All those hours spent on hotel beds between cases, her fingers brushing yours like a promise, her smile soft in the dark. She’d told you stories about Interpol. She’d talked about danger, about betrayal, about loss. But never about him. 

She’d told you so much— but not the truth.

Was any of it real?

You stare at the table, knuckles white where they grip the edge. It shouldn’t hurt this much. But it does. It aches like something sacred was shattered before you even knew what it meant to you.

Did she care about you at all?

Or were you just another part of the lie?

Your chest tightens. Your throat closes, choking on every unspoken word. You’d told yourself to be patient. To give her space. That she’d come back.

But now?

You don’t even know who you were waiting for.

Emily Prentiss— your Emily— the one who reached for your hand just to feel close, the one who made you laugh when it was late and the case was awful and the world felt like it might fall apart?

She’s gone. If she ever existed.

“Are you okay?” Seaver whispers beside you.

You nod, but it’s a lie. You’re not okay.

You’re not even sure what you are anymore.

If you want to be a part of my tag list, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you (If you don’t specify, I’ll just assume you want to be on the general list)!

Taglist: @leah172000 @violet-gardenia

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

You’ll feel a lot more comfortable in queer spaces (and probably also in life in general) if you learn to adopt a “I don’t get it but good for them” mindset. 

There will always be people you don’t understand. That’s just a matter of fact. No matter how educated you are, or how progressive your political views are, or even how kind you are: you’ll meet people that have experiences or feelings or behaviors that don’t make sense to you. 

And yes, in rare cases these might be like… violent doomsday cult followers and your discomfort with the idea that we should murder people because the apocalypse is coming or whatever, that is indeed your brain detecting something dangerous and warning you - but I dare say that 99% of the time this will not be the case. 

In those 99%, your discomfort will just be that: discomfort. The brain likes familiarity. We all like to (subconsciously) relate things back to our own experiences and when we can’t do that, well, that feels kinda bad! It feels uncomfortable and weird and awkward - and that’s fine. 

Sometimes you can try to see things from their perspective. Maybe you can educate yourself more on their experiences (even in such simple ways as reading social media posts by them). Or you can just ask yourself simple thought experiment questions like “If you asked them to explain (the thing you feel uncomfortable with), what do you think they’d say?” or “How do you think their daily routine looks like from their point of view?” etc.

But the goal of these exercises isn’t that you’ll suddenly be like “Oh, now I get it!”. No matter if it’s the way someone describes their gender or the type of relationship someone wants or the kind of sex someone is into or even something like a career choice or hobby or life goal someone pursues - maybe you’ll still not get it. And you know what? That’s still fine. 

You don’t need to get it. Obviously it’s a neat side effect if reading about someone else’s story makes you understand their feelings better! But at the end of the day, you don’t need to understand. You just need to understand that, most of the time, people you do not understand are just people who live a different life than you do. They aren’t “bad” or “wrong” and they’re not a threat to you or anyone. They just have different life experiences than you and you don’t relate to them because of that.

It’s okay to just accept that. You can wish people well, you can support people, even if you don’t relate to them. It’s okay to just go “I don’t get it but good for them!”. 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad