#so I basically did a part two

[junkanimate]

pt. 2 of my other drawing

[scribbles-ink]

quick doodle

[killjoy-prince]

House M.D. but it's when a character says the name of the episode

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna’s Loneliness Part 4 (Sukuna’s Negative Rizz)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Some warnings before we start.

1) This analysis deals with sexual topics.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans because of their accessibility. Raws are from mangareader(.)to.

3) This was written as of JJK 262 266. (I'm just going to keep updating this until I stop finding things I should've noticed earlier.)

4) The raws broke me in ways you cannot possibly imagine.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Fighting as Communication

Baki the Grappler. This is a manga where men destroy each other’s bodies as a test of strength. It’s poorly written but the art is terrifying and I love it so dearly. Between fights of extreme violence and body horror the characters eat. And that’s it. That’s the manga.

I bring Baki up because Gege is a huge fan of Fujimoto Tatsuki, the creator of Chainsawman. Fujimoto is a fan of Gege too, but more importantly, he is a huge fan of Itagaki Keisuke, the creator of Baki. (His daughter made Beastars btw.) In a way, this means Jujutsu Kaisen has been influenced by Baki. But that’s not a surprise, a lot of manga is.

Itagaki’s work is so massively influetial on Japanese media that it’s kind of hard to grasp since it’s not as popular overseas. When listening to interviews from various Japanese creators, Baki will often be cited as a major influence. And the thing is, you can tell when a creative has read Baki. There’s nothing quite like it. If you’ve read Baki and consume Chainsawman, you will see its bones everywhere. I feel the same about Jujutsu Kaisen.

The main antagonist in Baki is Yujiro Hanma. He is the strongest creature alive. So much so that he has no one to call a rival. He’s bored. He causes trouble. He kills his wife to motivate his son, Baki into becoming stronger. His son, Baki, who he grooms into becoming a fighter that might beat him in combat one day. Kind of sounds like Sukuna, right?

But that’s not my point here. My focus is how Baki doubles as a discussion about strength and manhood. It’s aggressively bisexual. Men love each other with their fists. Straight up the main character says having sex with women is the same thing as fighting men.

And it just doesn’t stop there. The homoerotic nature of the fights is never shyed away from. Here’s an example of my favorite.

He grabs his balls and compliments their size. That’s pretty gay, right? Well there’s this reanimated prehistoric caveman called Pickle that fights Baki’s brother Jack. And how do they fight? They kiss.

I didn’t call it a kiss. Itagaki did. I didn’t say they melded together. Itagaki did. This mangaka overtly calls attention to the homoerotic nature of men fighting men, and how men communicate their love for each other through violence. And yes, it’s sexual. Itagaki wants you to read it that way.

But sometimes he doesn’t want you to read it that way. Sometimes the fights are a dialogue, an emotional conversation. Like one between father and son.

Itagaki is a master of narrative framing. When he wants you to feel a certain way, you will feel it. He also tells his readers that there’s more to the fights than just fighting.

Those are the ideas that help me see the bones of Baki in other works. Men loving men with violence. Men communicating with men through violence. I see these ideas in Jujutsu Kaisen too.

Jujutsu Communication

I’ve gone over how Yuji commucates with other people on their own terms. And a lot of it is through fighting. A conversation without words, learning how someone works. Yuji is good at using fights as tool of communication.

But he’s not the one who tells you that there’s more to the fights than just fighting. Maki does in her spar with the sumo guy.

Just like Baki. Fighting is a means of communication. Gege has told you that there can be more to the fights than fighting. It's a tool used to understand the self and others.

With that in mind, I want to reexamine a particular fight under the lens of Baki rather than Umineko.

Sukuna vs Gojo

Baki tells you that homoerotic readings of its fights are intentional. If you ask me, this probably stems from historical stances on masculinity and homosexuality in ancient Japan. Men loved men and women differently, but both were ok. That’s how Baki can have a girlfriend and his gay fights. Peak bisexual optimization.

What does Jujutsu Kaisen have to do with this? Well it has been extremely queer friendly. We have a multidue of canonical trans characters, non-binary characters, and other flavors of queer characters not disparaged for their identities, Gojo Satoru included. It may not be stated outright, but Gojo and Geto do love each other in a gay way. The subtext is so persisent it’s basically text.

In other words, Gege has already told us, yes please have queer readings of this text. It’s the same way Baki tells you, yes this is straight up convoluded gay sex. So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to reread the Sukuna and Gojo fight as some ridiculous mating display between two men who are fighting over can miscommunicate their intent the hardest.

Framed as Courtship

Let’s start with the framing. The pre-fight set up. How does text tell you queer readings are allowed?

Kenjaku does. It’s romantic. It’s a date. This reading has been made valid explicitly. And if there’s room for doubt because of the sarcasm? There’s still additional support for it.

We already know how badly in love Gojo is with Geto. The fight is on the 24th of December, the most romantic day in Japan. And in a fun little Geto parallel, who declared the start of war on this day, violence underlines this new romantic venture.

That doesn’t include Sukuna who recalls Yorozu’s words about teaching love in the context of marriage.

Gojo never heard that conversation which is why the next point is absolutely insane.

The outfit Gojo initially is in resembles that of a groom at a Shinto wedding.

Shinto weddings were implemented after the Heian era. Part of the ceremony includes a priest and a shrine maiden who respectively stand to the right and left of the altar. A purification ritual will occur, lead by the priest, to cleanse the shrine before vows are exchanged. Gakuganji is the priest and Utahime is the shrine maiden. To the right and left of Gojo respectively.

The bride at a Shinto wedding wears mainly white. After the 200% Hollow Purple cleanses the area, the dark shawl is removed and Sukuna remains in mostly white.

How interesting that this battle has been framed as one between groom and bride.

The thing is, marriage in the Heian era was far more lax. There were no major ceremonies. If a man was interested in marrying a woman, he would visit her for 3 nights after receiving approval from her father. Upon the passing of their 3rd night together, the family would have an informal celebration of their union in private. Even after marriage, multiple partners were allowed and sometimes encouraged.

Yorozu’s big celebration proposal to Sukuna and banning of concubines was quite improper by Heian standards. Though it is in line with modern marriages. If Sukuna did not consume any Shinto wedding literature, he probably didn’t recognize that Gojo was dressed as a groom.

But did Gojo dress this way for Sukuna intentionally? The Toji fit served an entirely different purpose. It’s the robes and pre-fight ceremony that catch my attention. So I propose the following:

1) Gojo dressed up as a groom to die and be wed with his one and only Geto in death.

2) Gojo dressed up as a groom in part as an offering to Sukuna. And because Sukuna is from the Heian era it went over his head entirely.

3) Gojo intended for both of these things at the same time and left who he would end up with to fate.

Regardless of what Gojo was going for here, it’s a visual cue combined with the knowledge of it being Dec 24th that encourages the reader to perhaps consider the fight as something other than just a fight. A date perhaps? Kenjaku made the connection and neither Gojo or Sukuna really denied it. Gojo gave the weak excuse of a death anniversary confusion. But much weirder, given how hostile he was to Yorozu, Sukuna did not object to the romantic framing in any capacity.

Am I reaching? Is this reading intentional?

When I start getting this confused by how a translated work wants me to read it, I try to refer to the original language text and anyone who knows it for missing context. Sometimes localizations add things that weren’t there or push readers towards one interpretation. So for the rest of this analysis, I’m going to be focusing on the raws.

I’m going to be honest. My Japanese fudging sucks. I can barely read kanji and can’t reliably translate anything. Feel free to correct me if I got something wrong. That being said, with what little I do know, I have discovered something interesting.

In this post I talked about how weird Sukuna’s manner of speech is. I focused on his you pronoun usage of お前 (Omae) for everyone else and 貴様 (Kisama) for Gojo since this is a strong indicator of how a character views their relationship to someone.

Here's a summary of the two points I made in that post:

1) Omae is informal and either a casual thing amongst peers or indicates the speaker's higher status. Since Sukuna is arrogant, we can reasonably assume he's talking down to people.

2) Kisama historically was a formal show of respect, but in modern times it is a hostile insult, much more rude than Omae. Since Sukuna is 1,000 years old and hates Yuji (who he uses Omae with), we can reasonably assume Sukuna was being friendly to Gojo when he used Kisama.

With that pronoun usage in mind, while examining the raws for the infamous “You Cleared My Skies” speech I found this:

Kisama. Sukuna is very happy and lavishing Gojo with praise. The assumption it was formal from the start seems to be correct. It's hard to read this any other way.

Though Japanese can easily be dubious in its interpretation, there are instances where context can cut off all other readings. I truly believe this one of those cases.

Now, to confirm Sukuna is still only treating Gojo this way I started looking at his you pronouns as he got excited post-Gojo death. Maki is the person he seems to admire the most.

He’s still just using Omae. What does that mean? Gojo is in his own fudging category for Sukuna and he has been there since the start of the manga. (For more on why this is significant, refer to this post.)

Wow ok. That’s pretty intense! We’ve got Gojo dressed up as a groom on December 24th and Sukuna treating Gojo different from anyone else. I read their fight again under the lens of explicit courtship and focused in on these specific panels.

Satisfaction. Now that’s a word that can easily carry a sexual connotation. Love as well. The parallel syntax fascinated me in English. So I decided to look at the raws and see how close they are.

Pretty much the same except for "the one who will teach you love" and "the one satisfying him now". Since the one being satisfied is Gojo by Sukuna, it really seems we can assume the one being taught love is Gojo by Sukuna.

Time to learn some Japanese again!

Kanji has multiple readings. Most have at least two. The Onyomi (Chinese) reading typically used for nouns and the Kunyomi (Japanese) reading typically used for verbs. (This is not always the case but it’s the basics.)

That’s probably why 満 is read as まん (man) when Gojo and Geto are talking about “satisfaction” using the On version and み (mi), the Kun version, when the narrator is talking about who “satisfies” who.

However 満 on its own does not mean satisfaction. It means full. To be filled. Or fullness. 足 (zoku) is added as a modifier after 満 to be read as satisfaction 満足 (manzoku). 足 usually means feet, but it can also mean to be sufficient. Manzoku therefore has a direct translation of being sufficiently full. It’s not a surprise a lot of food places in Japan use Manzoku in their names or advertising.

But what’s this? Why is this sentence written as 満たして or Mi(tashite) instead of 満足して or Manzoku(shite)? The addition of Zoku is what transforms Man into "satisfying". Without the Zoku, it’s just "fill". The means this sentence can be read as “The one filling him up now is—”

We’ve already established that the blank is Sukuna. The new problem is that he’s filling Gojo up. And boy, does that sound homoerotic to put it lightly. But perhaps I am reaching.

So I did what any sane person would do in this situation. I read hentai.

Surely if the phrase 満たして (mitashite) can carry a sexual connotation I will find it in hentai.

...

I immediately found a yaoi doujin called Fill me with your Big Love aka おっきな愛で満たして (Okkina Ai de Mitashite). Honestly, I found too many doujins about creampies specifically. (You have internet access verify this yourself.) When you search Manzokushite the results are much more in line with life satisfaction than sexual satisfaction. ...So Gege decided to use the more frisky phrasing.

Manzoku is also the name of an active sex toy manufacturer (I’m not linking them use a search engine.) and a discontinued adult entertainment news company. So the satisfaction Gojo and Geto talk about, along with Geto using 妬 (ya), the jealous kanji often used between lovers, is definitely probably carrying a sexual connotation too.

So, I’m not reaching. What the fudge did Gege mean by this?

Now that we've established that I am NOT reaching. What do we do with this information?

Well, we ruminate on the fight with the knowledge that Sukuna, of his own volition, decided to get Gojo off, probably.

I have forgiven Nanami for calling Gojo a pervert. If I watched someone bust a nut after being cut in half by his sworn enemy instead of saving the country, I too would be like what the fudge.

Anyways, the typical phrase used for an orgasm in Japanese is 行く(iku). It translates as to go. And yes it can mean to die, as in going to the other side. To die and go to heaven if you will. Which is what Gojo did with a big old smile on his face.

There’s also the term 心天 (tokoroten). It refers to a dish were a semi-opaque white substance is pushed through holes to create noodles. Literal translation using the kanji for heart 心 (kokoro) and the kanji for heaven 天 (ten). (Don’t ask me why them being smack together turns the Koroko into Tokoro. I don’t know.) Which in slang refers to prostate orgasms. This has nothing to do with this analysis I wanted to drop this fun fact in here. …And this image of Sukuna clutching his heart while looking at someone he sent to heaven.

(This is a reach but the idea of this being an elaborate gay pun amuses me greatly.)

I have another fun slang term: 賢者タイム (kenjataimu) which directly translates to sage 賢者 (kenja) time タイム (taimu). This refers to post-nut clarity sending someone into a meditative-like state.

Oh that’s a bit familiar. Sukuna was giving sagely advice to Kashimo and reflecting on satisfaction and love.

And what’s this? Mitashite has made a reappearance! Sukuna is saying “I’ve never thought about needing another person to fill me up.” Which 1. further supports the 'The one satisfying/filling him (Gojo) now is—Sukuna.' reading and 2. suggests Sukuna is a top suggests Sukuna really doesn’t have sexual interest in people. (Since the context of this convo is relationships and love.)

By the way. Acts of eating in Japanese can be modified to carry sexual meanings. It’s a bit more suggestive than English, but it carries over pretty well I think? 肉食系 (nikusokukei) refers to someone who aggresively pursues romantic or sexual relationships. Composed of the kanji 肉 (niku) for meat, 食 (ta) for eating, and 系 (kei) class. If you noticed, 食 isn’t usually read as Soku. It becomes Soku when paired with Niku for some reason. (I don’t know why someone please help me.) Side by side the kanji 肉食 (nikusoku) means meat-eater.

食 is still interesting on it’s own. The 食べる (taberu) reading is normal eating. The 食う(kuu) reading is an innuendo. It can mean to devour someone, like a cannibal, or devour someone sexually.

Sukuna has made it very clear that his eating of people is literal. There’s no innuendo. In fact, if you read into it, he’ll kill you (rip Yorozu and Kashimo).

Gojo, however, appears to be his sole exception to this rule. When Sukuna tells Kashimo not to spoil his pleasure he uses the kanji 興 (kyou). This of course can be directly translated as pleasure, but the Chinese reading of it can also indicate intense excitement or sexual arousal.

Sukuna is pretty good at double-entendre wordplay if his earlier stunts with the kanji for Enchain doubling as Megumi Activities if read a different way is anything to go by. He's a fan of Chinese literature. It's not a stretch to assume there's more going on here.

And if notoriously homophobic Reddit dudebros are posting things like this. Maybe there's a lot more merit to this reading than I can currently grasp.

I’m still pretty convinced Sukuna is aroace. That of course doesn’t bar him from pursuing romantic or sexual relationships. Sometimes there’s the one exception. Sometimes the desire to be with and please an allo partner allows for engagement of activities they aren’t into. Sometimes the actions are pursued without the emotional attachment because they physically feel good. There’s also the gray-scale and demi labels to consider.

With that in mind, I want to emphasize this all points to how important Gojo is to Sukuna regardless of sexuality. He tried to engage with and understand Gojo on terms he won’t for anyone else. And he’s been pursuing this connection relentlessly since the start of manga.

Sukuna’s Negative Rizz

Ok I established that reading the Sukuna vs Gojo fight as unhinged courtship is supported by the text. That doesn’t really say anything about Sukuna sucking at it.

But, my dear reader, that in of itself is proof of his negative rizz. I had to sit down. Learn about Heian era and Shinto wedding rituals, learn more Japanese, splice seemingly unrelated manga panels together, read hentai, and know that Gege is into yaoi to come to this conclusion. I had to rip every little shred of characterization and context apart and rearrange it into something comprehensible.

You know who can’t do that? Gojo.

As far as Gojo is concerned, Sukuna hates him. Kisama is an extremely hostile you pronoun in modern times. And if Gojo can’t tell Shoko (his closest friend after Geto) is stressed over him being used like a meat puppet by her visibly falling back on her addiction, he’s going to default to the assumption Sukuna hates him just as much as everyone else.

And Gojo does just that. He assumes he failed to reach Sukuna. Despite how often they did hand to hand combat and weaponized their knowledge of each other, Gojo believes they never had proper conversation through fighting. He dies not understanding Sukuna, convinced the other was not trying to communicate with him at all.

And if you recall, all of this fight occurred while Sukuna was wearing Megumi’s face. That boy is pretty much Gojo’s adopted child. From my experience, most single parents do not go looking for clones of their kids as partners.

If someone wore the skin of my family member I would assume they were trying to torment me. And torment Gojo Sukuna does. He draws attention to Megumi’s soul being used as collateral and attacks him with the 10 Shadows. We as the audience know this is all for the sake of getting past Infinity using his Shrine. Gojo doesn’t know that. He’s fighting an evil dude who is puppeting the body of his son for god knows what reason.

Seriously, Sukuna sucks at communicating intent.

In Part 3 of my examination of Sukuna’s loneliness, I said Dismantle is a tool Sukuna uses to understand. And that him upgrading it by making Gojo the center of his world was indicative of his desire to reach him. I also said his refusal to use it on Yorozu was him expressing how little interest he had in her.

Yorozu is pissed by this. She sees it as Sukuna rejecting her and I don’t think she’s wrong. Sukuna saved his special Cursed Technique (CT) for Gojo while turning Yorozu down. If we’re considering all the wedding imagery and references that started with Yorozu, I’m certainly allowed to read that as him saving himself for Gojo. (Think of how he lied to Gojo about being the first one he killed.)

There’s also the fact that Yorozu saw their battle as an expression love and lust—that the usage of CT is a type of foreplay under certain circumstances since it is an extension of the self. Combine that with the established premise that fighting is a type of a communication thanks to Maki vs Sumo Guy and you can start to see the courtship logic behind Sukuna’s treatment of Gojo.

If we are to read “The one who will teach you love is…Sukuna” there’s another adorable caveat. Yorozu uses the you pronoun あなた (Anata) for Sukuna.

It’s an informal you pronoun used by people learning Japanese. Native speakers try to avoid using it as it can come across as rude. But in the context of love? This is colloquially called the wife pronoun as its often used by a wife to her husband.

If you wanted to localize its usage in the way Yorozu means it, Anata might become “you, dear”. So here we have Sukuna dressed in white, like a bride to Gojo’s groom, thinking of him as Anata.

The problem is, Gojo doesn’t know that. Sukuna never bothered to open his mouth and say this was an act of love. Sure he told Kashimo in the most roundabout way possible, but Gojo was the one who needed to hear that. If a courtship is going to be this diabolically complicated, there has to be clear hints for the other party. JJK is not Umineko where there’s a witch that can revive the dead over and over until the idiot finally understands this was all for them.

Gojo also doesn’t have access to the kanji Sukuna uses to describe certain techinques or words. He hears the phonetics and runs with whatever best fits the context. This means there’s no way for him to catch the double-meaning unless he’s a certain type of lingust, which he is not. His manner of speech and personal interests don’t line up with the flowery language of the Heian Era. The types of written works Gojo is into are historical war politics from the Sengoku period (known for violence more than the fine arts), Shonen manga, and physics/math.

And what's this? According to CFYOW (the canon light novels): JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 3 Asakusabashi Elegy, Gojo doesn't even like ancient poetry. You know, the thing Sukuna enjoys and tries to communicate with.

The Kokin Wakashu Gojo off-handedly disparages is a compilation of Hiean Era poetry known as Waka. This was the primary means of communication amongst the noble class and spiritual leaders at the time. And the thing is, this poetry is supposed to be read into. Down to the quality of stroke and paper, not just the kanji written. Especially for courtship.

It’s not that Gojo is stupid. He just doesn’t specialize in the studies that would give him a more critical ear to Sukuna's words. And Sukuna doesn’t seem to understand that no one in the modern era communicates like this anymore.

If you didn’t know, this is why Japanese characters introduce themselves they often describe what kanji their name is spelled with. Take for example: Satoru. He uses the kanji 悟 meaning enlightenment. This kanji can be read as Go instead of Satoru. Additionally, the name Satoru can be written in kanji as 聡 for smart, 智 for wisdom, 知 for knowledge, 了 for understanding, 哲 for philosophy, 聖 for virtuous, or 暁 for daybreak. That’s 8 different kanji possible if you hear the name Satoru.

This is why Sukuna’s wordplay for everything else can be easily missed by other characters. They hear the words and cannot read the kanji like us. Context decides what Sukuna means for them. And since Sukuna’s context for most is violence and insults, it’s very hard for them to think about his words in any other way.

And boy howdy does Gojo miss it. Sukuna straight up calls him his husband and it took me several rereads to catch it. While mocking Gojo for being unable to open his domain, Sukuna calls him "painfully ordinary". This is localized from the word 凡夫 (bonpu) which can also be translated as unenlightened. (A layered insult! Sukuna is pretty much saying Gojo's sorcery is so boring he shouldn't even call himself the Honored One.)

The thing is...Bonpu is comprised of the 2 kanji 凡 for mediocre, and 夫 for husband. (Please note that there are many other ways to call Gojo a ditz without using the kanji for husband.) And an update from the Replies: Turns out there's layers to the gayness too.

It's come full fudging circle. Gojo came dressed as a groom for a wedding and Sukuna thinks they're already married. The miscommunication is off the rails.

But wait! There's more...

Earlier I mentioned that the kanji for Enchain doubles as Megumi Activities. Let's break that down more. (Unfortunately the Twitter account of the person I referenced may or may not be nuked so here's this screenshot I've doctored.)

So we have the translation of Enchain from 契闊 (Keikatsu), which might be better localized as Separation.

This term comes from a Chinese poem about lovers who are husband and wife in The Book of Odes, Section I (Lessons from the States), Chapter 3 (The Odes of Bei), Poem 31 (Banging the Drum). (Here's a link to the full poem and context of it.)

In summary, it’s about a soldier who is on the brink of death, having lost nearly everything after being abandoned by those in power, lamenting the happiest days of his life with his love are ones he can never get back. (Hey that sounds just like what Sukuna did to Yuji!)

Keikatsu specifically comes from this passage:

“Our vow is beyond death and life”, I and you are together I always remembered. I will hold your hand, And together we grow old.

Too pitiful we are faraway apart, The distance separates us to meet again! Too miserable this takes forever, And it does not let us fulfill our vow!

Keikatsu is used to exemplify how the physical distance between the husband and wife prevents them from fulfilling their wedding vows. And that's just what Keikatsu/Enchain does to Yuji and Megumi, it causes painful separation neither of them wanted.

Keikatsu also tells Yuji exactly how Sukuna plans to do it. 契(kei)闊(katsu) can be written as 恵(kei)活(katsu). The kanji 恵 can be read as Kei or...Megumi. (It's the literal kanji used for his name.) The kanji 活 (katsu) can mean "activities", which is how we get Enchain=Megumi Activities.

A two for one special! Sukuna mocks Yuji for being so close with Megumi while telling him exactly how he's going to destroy their relationship.

It seems this has nothing to do with Gojo until you consider the 3rd possible reading from wordplay with 契闊 (Keikatsu). The kanji 契 when read as Kei refers to a promise, pledge or vow. When 契 read as Chigi? It can refer to sexual intercourse, especially between husband and wife.

So we have 契闊(keikatsu, separation), 恵(kei Megumi)活(katsu, activities), and 契(kei chigi, spousal sex)活(katsu, activities). It's no wonder he erased Yuji's memory of it.

Keep in mind, that when Sukuna uses Keikatsu, the only vow that he has made at this point is his promise to kill Gojo. He eventually does that using Megumi's body during a fight framed between groom and bride. And for reasons beyond their control, Sukuna and Gojo have been unable to fulfill that vow through lengthy separation.

Notes from poem "Banging the Drum" Sukuna references include the following:

"And during the operation, he lost his horse, which was a desperate situation (horses in ancient time carried soldier supply and weapons, are life companion for soldiers in advance or retreat), he lost his horse, his supply, maybe his armor and weapons, and the road he was facing that we may lose his life so he may never go back. In all these mess, he started searching, and somehow at this hopeless moment he started to revisit his happiest moment, when he together vowed in marriage ceremony with his wife, and he was even afraid that he might never see his love again."

"And His last statement for his true value is his home, his love, his fulfillment of his vow is his true duty. Hero's duty is to pursue love."

In Buddhism, which JJK is heavily influenced by, horses are a pretty big deal. Horses can represent the path to enlightenment, especially since The Buddha's horse is what takes him on this journey away from his wife and children. They separate in the end though, the horse dying of a broken heart.

Remember how Sukuna called Gojo unenlightened? He sort of guided Gojo to enlightenment using Mahoraga, whose Eight-Handed title is a reference to the Eightfold Path to be followed for enlightenment. Buddhist enlightenment is centered around liberation from suffering. (Just check the wiki entry to verify this.) Infinity was the source of Gojo's suffering and Sukuna cut right through it.

Sukuna has been running around with a broken heart for a good chunk of the post-Gojo fight. And if you take that into consideration with this poem and all the other symbolism, he's somehow a Buddha, a Bodhisattva, the dying husband, the widowed wife, and the heartbroken horse all at the same time. Not unlike his wordplay taking on every possible meaning at once.

But my point here is that Sukuna might’ve seen his fight with Gojo as consummation of their marriage. (There's probably a joke in here about the husband reaching climax while leaving his wife unsatisfied.) Remember in the wise words of Itagaki Keisuke, "Fighting and sex are exactly the same!"

In Conclusion?

This is possibly one of the most bizarre and elaborate expressions of love I have lost my mind over. Sukuna gave everything Gojo ever wanted from Jujutsu violently. He did it in such an unpleasant and cruel way that the target of his affection thought there was nothing between them. Sukuna also hid his intent under social norms that no longer exist. Unless Gojo happened to be into ancient literature, there was never a scenario where he would catch onto this. Sukuna's failure is critical on multiple levels.

It’s impressive. It really is. No one knows how Sukuna’s strange little brain works so he’s stuck being loner without anyone that fully understands him. (I’m still thinking about how Uraume didn’t know Sukuna was a twin for over 1,000 years.) He’d have to let people in and tell him outright, but he’s just like Gojo so I guess that’s never happening.

[ffcrazy15]

"Oh so when James Kirk refuses to believe in no-win scenarios it's 'changing the conditions of the test' and 'commendable original thinking,' but when I, Bradward Boimler, can't accept the possibility of failure and retake the Kobiyashi Maru sixteen times–"

[tumblinglikeduckling]

Sunaosa <3

[moeblob]

Druas and Eva

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 08 - Fav. (Side) Job

When she's not running around as Ninja or Summoner , Arsay's next choice is the lance. Being bestowed a source of draconic power by Midgardsormr moments before his slumber, and knowing how to channel the powers of Bahamut with dreadwyrm trance, Arsay's power as a Dragoon rivals that of even the former Azure Dragoon. With that said, she'd much rather use her polearm to hunt monsters.

[boasamishipper]

i can tolerate a lot of things from writers and showrunners but outright condescension and disdain for their fans is not one of them

[thatonebirdwrites]

Sneak peak from my as yet unreleased fic, Shattered but Whole (this is an excerpt)

EXCERPT (from second part - Unravels. There is also Lena's Tale from The Event and Kara's Tale also in Unravels. A third part Integration is still being written. I'll post full fic at end of month hopefully):

Sam's Tale

Sam places the soup on the coffee table. The lack of sleep burns behind her eyes, partly due to Rory's tendency to wander. She sits down on the sofa and manages a smile for the huddled form under the pile of blankets.

Stubborn and unflinching like steel, Rory has failed to eat more than a few sips of broth for the past day. Frustration boils in Sam, but what can she do? She can't let that emotion show.

So she takes a deep breath to calm herself. Pictures the tidal pools, where her, Ruby, and Lena used to walk on weekends before Lex's escape and carefully crafted lies and manipulations that strangled the leadership of two countries and nearly killed them all.

Sam remembers the fires that raged from the satellite weapon. One blast had incinerated parts of Kansas, burning wheat fields, and destroying the town of Smallville. Then another blast had ripped through downtown Metropolis, obliterating one of the news stations and its neighboring buildings.

At the time, Sam had been making dinner when the flash of red swept across the sky. Next came the booms and the brief quake, then the horrid silence before the sirens started up. Most channels in town had gone off-air, but those from one state over functioned fine. It relayed images of the destruction, and how the Claymore satellite turned toward space again. Sam had started packing immediately, while she did everything she could to keep Ruby distracted.

Then hours later, Lena had called.

Sam won't ever forget how her voice whispered Sam's name over and over in a pained, panicked way, as if Sam was the rope she held tightly to keep from falling. In the background, she had heard booms and white noise. At first, she feared Lena had been near the epicenter, only to learn she was instead on the other side of the country. And the booms were just thunder.

Sam runs a hand through her hair. Stress and anxiety hangs like a shawl, the intense rush to reach National City still sizzling in her limbs. She should have returned sooner, before this tragedy.

“Rory,” Sam says gently. Grief coils in her chest when Lena's face turns to her, only for Rory's wide green-blue eyes to meet hers. As always, the haunted expression breaks Sam’s heart a little more. “It’s okay. I’m not angry. I’m just worried. Eating will help you feel better. So how about a few bites?”

Tentatively, Rory reaches out to prod the spoon in the bowl. It swirls the ingredients in little whirlpools.

For Rory to front this long? Without any sign of Kieran or Lena? Worry joins Sam's grief and exhaustion. It's been two — possibly three if she counts the night of Supergirl’s rescue— days with no sign of the others.

“We had to. We had to end the cycle.” Lena's words said so brokenly.

Sam isn’t a fool. Lena/Kieran killed Lex and burned the evidence. She still doesn't know how this came about or why it transpired in Northern California.

Will burning it all be good enough? Should she devise alibis just in case? This really isn’t her purview — Lena is the strategist or Jack. Sam is more of the ‘wild ideas and toss at wall to see if they stick’ person.

Advice definitely needed, but who to call?

Sam taps her fingers against her knee and teases her mind for solutions. How would Jack or Lena approach this? Systematically. Sam is decent with math, but she's never been able to keep up with those science geniuses.

Systematic she can do. She unlocks her phone to peruse her options.

Alex Danvers, FBI agent, who likely knows what they need for alibis. Can Sam trust Alex not to align with her job and bring in Lena?

The news this morning documented Supergirl's fight with Lex and the liberation of the alien power plant. Catco released the first part of a three-part article that exposes of Lex's megalomania and genocidal plans. Kara really outdid herself with that piece.

The tide favoring Lex shifts slowly. No, she can't trust anyone associated with the government. Not until Sam has definitive evidence they won't turn on Lena or Supergirl still.

Fine, whose next?

Kelly Olsen, Lena's therapist. Or soon to be ex-therapist due to Kelly dating Alex Danvers now. Due to Lex's brief reign of terror, Kelly and Lena — as far as Sam knows — hadn't had time to find a suitable replacement to continue Lena's work on integration.

Kara Danvers then? A rather naive journalist, who apparently is Supergirl's alter ego. Or maybe Supergirl is Kara's alter ego. That stormy night Supergirl rescued Lena confirmed they are one and the same.

Lena adores Kara, but her words that stormy night: “Did you know Kara is an alien?�� had held a layer of pain.

Sam sighs and rubs her temple. The only other number she has is for James Olsen, who she doesn't trust farther than she can spit. He may have dated Lena, but he'd never truly let go of Lena's last name. Sam wishes she'd never pushed Lena to try, but that was before she understood the depth of Lena's feelings for Kara.

The clink of a spoon echoes softly in the sterile apartment. Rory still hasn't attempted food. Only swirls and swirls, the whirlpools sink into the depths of the cup and reveal bits and pieces of vegetables.

Sam watches and blinks back tears. Jack would have known what to do. He'd likely be mobilizing alibis and lawyers already, but he lay in a coma, trapped since the nanite catastrophe that destroyed Spheerical Industries. A memory Sam tries to avoid. Kieran and Rory had fronted for weeks after that disaster.

“Lena,” Sam whispers, “I know you're in there.” She reaches out to brush black hair from Rory's face. “How would you or Kieran handle this?”

Rory glances at her, her eyebrows scrunched as if in thought. Her other hand lifts from under the blankets and forms the sign for ‘endure.'

Yes, Sam knows Rory is the one that endures. Helplessness seeps through her limbs. She looks down at her phone and flips through the contacts again with her thumb. One by one names trickle by until she stops at Kara Danver's name.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” she tells Rory. “When I get back, I want at least some of this soup eaten. Then we can watch your favorite show. Or maybe play a game?”

Rory tilts her head, and her face contorts — wrinkles in forehead, scrunched eyebrows, flared nostrils, slight grimace, and sucked in cheeks — a sign of a possible switch.

Sam holds her breath in hope.

The expression fades, and Rory tugs blankets tighter around her body. One hand grips the spoon again and forms the whirlpools once more.

Sam lets out her breath. “Promise me, you'll eat? Otherwise, no games later.”

Rory narrows her eyes but reluctantly nods. Sam will take that as progress.

Standing, she glances at her daughter, who sits curled up in the armchair by the sofa. Her latest book — a science fiction novella about nonbinary monks and robots — lays open in her lap. Ruby's fingers crinkle the page right before she turns it.

Sam marvels for the millionth time how much Ruby looks like her. Only her nose and thicker build gives any hint of the worthless father.

Her baby, the reason for much of what Sam does. Today, Ruby's hair curls down past her shoulders, still damp from a shower, and her brown eyes scan the pages of her book. She looks up at Sam, her eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“Keep an eye on her, Rubes. I’ll be on the balcony.”

Ruby gives her a thumbs-up. She knows the drill. In a way, she and Rory act as sisters, which puts Sam in the weird-ass role of mother figure when Rory fronts.

So very different from the best friend role Sam holds for Lena, and the nebulous more than friend role for Kieran. All aspects that leaves Sam in a strange limbo of not able to ever confess her feelings.

Outside, the wind blows cool, the taste of salt off the ocean. Sam leans against the railing and struggles to hold back her tears. Is this disaster the one that finally breaks her best friend?

Sam had promised herself long ago to make sure Lena was never alone wih Lex, and yet, three days ago that exact scenario played out while Sam was stuck in Metropolis. She'd been there for the past three months fixing a major production and accounting mishap, which meant Ruby temporarily enrolling in the school in the interim.

Convenient that such a mishap happened just when Lex strolls back into Lena's life. Sam rubs her eyes and slumps against the railing. The mishap she repaired had been sabotage, that Sam knows, but she can't scrounge up enough evidence to confirm by whom.

Even though in her heart she's positive it was Lex's way to separate her and Lena.

To isolate Lena slowly. Like he always does.

Sam can't ever forget the moment she learns of his abuse. During the initial merger, years ago, Lena had been sitting in her office after a meeting with Lex. Sam only came by to drop off her report, but what she found alarmed her. Lena's expression had been twisted in what looked like pain. Her red, chafed skin and the red mark on her left cheek ignited a deep need to protect in Sam.

Yet she'd failed. All their work to free Lena from the Luthors shredded by Lex. The urge to scream and rip apart the world seethes in Sam.

At least Lex is dead. The fucking bastard. But it should have been her hands that did it. Not Lena's.

She rubs away her angry tears and pulls out her phone. Thumbs through the unlock and hovers over Kara's name. A number she's had since the worldkiller crisis ten months ago. That time of horror is where Sam finally understood viscerally the amnesiac episodes.

***

Sam stands in an alley. Her boots are muddy, and her head stuffed with cotton. Her breath catches in her throat, her lungs raw. Her body feels not her own, like a puppet on strings. She looks down at her hands, the grime under her nails unfamiliar. Her stomach twists in knots, her head aches, and she wants to curl up and weep.

How did she get here? Where is she?

Fog coils in her mind and sizzles with lightning. The air charged with apprehension despite the cloudless night glaring down at her.

Memories seep through slowly: She was skating on a rink with Ruby, who easily kept pace with her. Sam had turned to skate backward and make faces at her daughter. Typical pre-teen response of rolled eyes, but the hint of a smile gave away Ruby's amusement.

She'd just turned to skate forward again when a ringing started in her ears. Ruby passed her, while Sam's vision fogged over. Whispers crept into her ears: let go, let go.

Dark woods loomed then, while the fog tugs her from the fluorescent lights of the indoor rink. Bare branches curved like hands that reach for her, until darkness coats her mind and body. Freezing cold slithers through her.

Only to wake here, in an alleyway, alone.

Terror ignites.

Ruby.

Where is Ruby? She digs through her pockets but finds nothing. No phone.

Wait, why is she in khakis and navy blue button-down shirt? Where is her jeans and T-shirt she'd been wearing skating?

Why is one of her sleeves caked with blood? But she has no wounds.

Ruby. Her feet jerk into motion, and she sprints from the alley.

Car engines and horns assault her ears. She’s a block from L-corp. Definitely phones there to borrow. She dodges through the slow, meandering traffic, and ignores the driver's curses and car horns.

She bursts through L-corp’s doors. To the left is the security desk, where a lone guard reads a magazine, his only light a small lamp. The rest of the building is dark except for the fluorescent lights near the elevators and stairs. Sounds of traffic fade into a faint roar, only interrupted by the crinkle of pages.

Shadows stalk across the foyer, like the woods of her nightmares. One shadow forms the figure of a woman, red eyes aglow. She takes a step backward, her breath caught in her throat and her stomach bubbling with nausea.

“Ms. Arias?” the voice cuts through her frozen terror. The figure vanishes.

Sam turns to see a plump, older man at the security desk. His hazel eyes look up from his book, his mouth in a confused grimace.

“Are you all right?”

No, she most definitely is not. She can't let it show. Breathe, she tells herself. Four, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty… she counts until her hands stop shaking. “Bill," she asks, slowly, "can I use your phone?”

“Uh, sure.” He turns his desk phone around to face her.

Sam dials Lena’s number. Her fingers tremble despite her attempts to calm down.

To her relief, Lena picks up after one ring. “This is Ms. Luthor speaking.”

“Lena, oh thank god you answered," she clutches the phone, almost in tears at her familiar voice. "Please, where are you? Where is Ruby?”

“Sam?” Relief floods Lena’s voice. “Sam, I’m at the office. Where are you? I can—”

“I’m coming upstairs.” Sam hangs up and sprints for the elevator. As the elevator ascends, she paces back and forth, terrified and nauseated. Her body aches from head to toe as if she’d been in a fight, but she has no memory of the past few hours — days?

It's been two months of horrific nightmares and amnesiac episodes. One month of trying to hide it all under a veneer of practiced poise.

Shadows play across the elevator walls, and one sneers like a face of a demon. She jerks backward, her back hitting the wall. Whispers in a language she can't quite distinguish sinks into the dark. Strange symbols form on her arms, and she tries to rub them away to no avail.

The metal of the elevator forms a face with red eyes.

No. No, no! She hits the buttons on the elevator desperate to escape. The elevator shivers and clanks. Horror stalks her.

"Four, eight, twelve," she says, out loud, desperate to calm herself. "Sixteen, twenty…"

The elevator doors open to darkness, except for a red light at the end of the hall. No, she can't enter that. The doors shut, and she slumps to the ground, her arms around herself. The doors open three more times, and each time she's met with a gloom so deep, she swears she can hear the creaking of branches.

She’s never been more terrified in her life. For these episodes to increase in severity, for them to now impact her daughter? Sam wants to scream and rip herself to shreds.

The fourth time the doors open, light cascades into the room. She throws herself into the precious light. Scrambling to her feet, her boots pound against the tiles as she sprints down the hallway, past a conference room, past Jess' empty desk, and finally to the door of her office.

She tugs open the door, her breaths sharp and agonized.

A figure sits at the desk, the glow of a tablet across her porcelain features and glossy black hair. A fluffy scarf wraps around the woman's neck, her jacket open to show a shiny red shirt that is far too reminiscent of blood.

Recognition sparks. Lena. It's only Lena. Relief stops her mad dash. “Where’s Ruby?”

“Sam! Thank god you’re okay.” Lena sweeps to her feet, her Irish accent faint, which means it’s Lena fronting. Kieran always has a heavy Irish brogue. She takes a few hesitant steps around the desk, but pauses a few feet away. Her concern etched into her perfect features. “Ruby called me right away. I took her home. I — I thought I’d check the office again in hope you’d return here. Like you had the other times.”

“Oh my god.” Sam turns away and presses her hand to her forehead. “How could I do this to her?” She throws her hand down and starts to pace. “What if I’d been driving at the time?”

Her imagination unhelpfully provides a vivid image of a crash and a bloodied body. Bile rises in Sam's throat.

Lena holds up her hands as if to placate her. “She’s safe, Sam. She did the right thing by calling for help.”

Right, help. Good. Emergency plan enacted. Yet Ruby never should have needed it.

Sam takes a deep breath and turns back to Lena. “Was she scared?”

Lena’s shoulders droop then, but the tension in her body shows in her creased brows “Yes. We all are.” Cautiously, Lena approaches her, one hand still upheld. “Do — do you remember anything?”

Sam shakes her head. Whispers, shadowed woods, and fog provides no clues. “No. No, I don’t. Same as always.”

Lena tugs at her fingers. “Ruby told me about the other times.”

Sam stares at her, unable to fathom at first Lena's meaning. “She doesn’t know,” she says, finally. “I — I haven’t told her yet.”

“She’s a smart kid. Had a time-line of dates, times, and places —”

“You told a twelve year old that her mother is sick with a illness no one can diagnose?” A coiling horror mixed with anger shudders through her body. No, Ruby can't know. “Seriously?”

“Sam, she already knew.” Lena holds up her hands again, as if to ward off Sam’s anger. “I simply reassured her that you didn’t abandon her. That we’re looking into this.”

“Si—”

The world sears in sudden frigid cold. It weaves into her bones, as dark grey fog coils. Let go, a whisper curls into her ears. A face forms in the mists, skull with no eyes, and hands reach up from the ground.

Bare branches leer over her like clawed hands. She staggers backward, only to hit the desk.

She’s back in the office. “What — what…” Bile burns her throat.

Lena stands on the other side of her, her arms around herself, and a haunted look in her eyes. She blinks and drops her hands to her side. “Sam? Are — are you back?”

Sam slowly backs up until her legs hit a chair. She lowers herself, shaken.

“Sam? Did you just have a blackout?”

Terror throttles her breathing, her gasps sharp and pained. Nodding, she shivers and grips the chair.

Lena holds up her hands as if to calm her down. “You don’t remember anything you just said?”

Tears blur her vision. She shakes her head. “I need help,” she whispers. Something more than therapy, more than Alex’s MRI and CT tests. Something that can dig deep into why these episodes happen when it’s never happened prior.

“Sam, do you trust me?” Lena drops to one knee next to Sam’s chair, and gently grasps her hands.

Sam clings to Lena’s warm and grounding touch and nods.

“Let me run some tests. You’ll have to stay in the basement lab for the night.” Lena bites her lip and looks down at their hands. “If I’m right about this, you’re in grave danger.”

Dread weighs heavy on Sam. “Whatever is needed, do it.” If anyone can find what’s wrong, it’d be her best friend. The person who understands amnesiac episodes, the one who is a genius with biology and engineering — the person Sam trusts and loves more than anyone else in the universe. “You’ll watch Ruby?”

“Of course. She’s in a safe place right now, and with someone I trust to keep an eye on her.”

Her words help only marginally; Sam can’t help but worry for her daughter. To not be able to see her? Out of fear of what she might do in an episode? The tears escape despite all her attempts to hold them at bay.

“I promise you I’ll figure this out. We’ll find the cure together.” Lena wraps an arm around her shoulder, while her other hand rubs her thumb over Sam’s knuckles. Exactly the same way Sam does during Lena’s panic attacks or amnesiac episodes. Oh, how the tables have turned.

True to her word, Lena sets her up in a medical bed in the basement lab and runs the battery of tests. Her best friend says very little, her entire focus on her work — like always when she hyperfocuses.

Needles used shimmer with a hint of green and leave a weird ache after. Hum of machines scan her insides, and the tool to scrape a sample from inside her mouth feels cold and unnerving. The only words spoken are gentle but short explanations of each procedure.

She knows Lena does it to try to calm her.

Nothing will calm her. Not until they know the truth.

Sam wonders if feeling shattered or scared is how Lena is all the time. If so, how does she cope? Admiration for Lena’s strength and resiliency floods Sam. Lena’s spent a life like this, while Sam falls apart after only a few months.

“This last test relies on you sleeping.” Lena stands a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her. Her accent has stayed faint these last few hours, which means Kieran hasn’t fronted once. “Do you think you can sleep?”

Sam rubs her eyes. “Maybe. I’m exhausted enough.”

For a moment, Lena stands silently, her expression contorts almost in pain. She takes in a sharp breath, and her shoulders straighten, her posture rigid. A switch.

“Then rest.” Her best friend steps up to the bed, her accent a thick Irish brogue, where each word is pronounced slowly as if she tastes each one. That signals this is now Kieran. “We will watch over you.” She gently kisses Sam’s forehead and smooths back her hair.

Sam aches to hold her and be held in turn. Instead, she grasps Kieran’s hand. “Can — can you really cure this?”

“Not me, luv,” Kieran says, tenderly. “Lena can. She has a plan. We just need more data.” Her hand continues to stroke Sam’s hair, her other tightly holding Sam’s left. “Close your eyes now, and I shall sing you to sleep.”

Of Lena’s many parts, Kieran is the only one that can hold a tune, and she sings an Irish ballad. It ripples over Sam and encases her in warmth. She finally drifts to a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes, her head aches, her vision blurry, and her shoulder hurts. She reaches up and realizes there’s a device there, but she can’t quite see what it is.

“Lena? Kieran?” She’s not sure who is fronting for her friend.

“It's Lena.” Lena looks up from the desk, where several papers are scattered along with a tablet and a laptop. She gives her a faint smile. Dark circles line her eyes. Likely barely slept. Typical of her. “How do you feel?”

“Achey. What — what is this?” She taps the device.

“Precaution.” Lena stands and walks closer, only to stop a few feet away. “I — I have good and bad news.”

“Surely not as bad as the world ending?” Sam jokes.

Lena doesn’t laugh nor does she smile. Her eyes narrow instead. “I reviewed our data and the timeline of your episodes.”

The seriousness in Lena’s stance, the faint wisp of her accent, and the pain in her tone makes it clear that Sam isn’t going to like her next words. She braces herself.

“Your episodes align with when Reign appears.”

Sam jolts upright in shock. “No. That’s crazy.”

Lena frowns. “The data I’ve taken has provided proof. I suspect when you left on your trip ‘to find your origins,’ you were possessed. The time and date of that correlates to the timing of Reign’s cult leader escaping prison.”

Sam shakes her head. There’s no way.

“Let me show you then.” She picks up a remote and turns on the television. It plays a segment from a news report of a murder. “Two months ago you report a black out. Reign appears and kills three robbers and leaves an odd symbol all over National City. The same symbol the cultist gave Kara during her interview exactly two weeks before your ‘trip’ happened.”

Sam can’t believe her ears. She shakes her head again.

“A week later, you have another black out.” She hits the remote and another news segment appears. “Seven people killed at a warehouse. Their bodies mutilated.”

“Lena, why are you doing this?” Sam stumbles out of the bed. “You — you can’t— I get squeamish whenever Ruby asks me to kill a spider. Why — how — there’s no way I’d ever kill those people!”

Lena sighs. “I don’t think you did.”

“So what, I’m like you? Split personality now?” She snaps as she starts to pace. A weird energy tingles through her, and the area where the device is aches.

Lena takes a shuddering breath. “Sam, that’s —” She turns away and fiddles with her tablet. “Is that really what you think of us?” she asks quietly.

“No!” Sam put her head in her hands. “No, it’s not at all. I — I don’t know why I said that. You’re absolutely lovely. All of you.”

“Sure.” The flat tone to her voice hurts to hear.

“Lena, I mean it!” Sam drops onto the bed. “I’m not thinking straight. My body feels weird, and my head hurts, and — and I’m scared. Do — do you have dreams of dark forests with mists that whisper frightening things when you switch?”

Lena’s head shoots up, and she stares at Sam.”No, I don’t. I thought you said you don’t remember anything.”

“I don’t. But when — when I got angry at you at the office, I — I was briefly there, and, god, it sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Lena picks up the tablet and types something into it. “That’s valuable information.”

“Do you know what’s wrong then?” Sam needs answers. Some sort of tangible goal, not this nebulous grey.

“I think Reign is possessing you,” Lena says, bluntly. “When she fronts, you lose all awareness. Your DNA essentially rewrites itself. None of my alters rewrite my DNA. Believe me, I tested myself to verify. It’s likely the Reign cultists targeted you, but what they used to cause this, I’m still researching.”

Sam stares at her, shocked.

“Please, Sam, understand, I wouldn’t tell you this if I wasn’t sure.” Lena’s words are sharp, firm, but her hands tremble, her eyes red-lined as if she’s been crying.

“This is ridiculous.” Sam starts to pace. Her body vibrates with energy, and she feels ill. Like her stomach’s acid eats through her intestines. Looking at the TV makes it worse. “I’m going home to Ruby.” She turns and walks straight into a wall. Startled, she stumbles backward. There’s nothing there.

She reaches out, tentatively, and her fingers bounce against an invisible field. “Lena, what the hell? Let me out!”

Lena shakes her head. Tears shine in her eyes. “I — I can’t. You asked me to help you. This is the only safe way.”

“No!” Sam slams her hand against the field. “Let me out, Lena. I want to see my daughter.”

“Until I find a cure, no.” Her voice shakes, but she holds her chin defiantly.

“So this is how it is?” She has the urge to lash out, to draw blood. Energy jolts through her, and her vision blurs further. Whispers of a fog curls around her mind and body. “Lena Luthor holds her best friend hostage —”

Lena breathes in sharply. “Sam, you asked me to help you.”

“I didn’t ask to be held in a cage!” Sam shoots back. “This was supposed to be just tests.”

Lena closes her eyes and turns away. Her shoulders shake, and her expression contorts. A sure sign she’s fighting against a switch. “I need to check on Ruby.” She takes the tablet and leaves.

The door clangs shut behind her. Silence envelops Sam, and with it, shadows plague her periphery. The light flickers. Fear swiftly replaces her frustration.

The TV still plays news segments. A desk with a monitor and keyboard sits under it. Distract. Must distract, otherwise the shadows creep closer, and the eerie sense of being watched looms larger.

She switches off the TV and settles in the chair. Clicking the start menu, she finds only generic games and a word processor. No internet connection and the clock is hidden. Meaning, she has no clue of the date or time.

Turning, she slams her fists against the forcefield, but it doesn’t budge. She grabs her chair and hits it against it again and again, but still nothing. It stays firmly there. Trapped.

A scream erupts from her throat, and she throws her body at the field, only to slide to the ground in a fit of panicked weeping. Claustrophobia claws through her, and she desperately wraps her arms around herself. Taps her shoulders again and again until the soft beat of her hands transforms the panic into a quiet, anxious simmer.

She thinks through all the years she’s known Lena, and nothing implies a trajectory to this situation. Her blackouts is the new data-point, which means, Lena doesn’t trust her as long as she has them.

Sam doesn't trust herself as long as they keep happening.

She rubs away her tears. Decides to focus on Aikido exercises to pass the time. Thinking about her situation only induces more panic, and she needs to try to stay calm for when Lena returns.

Hours pass. Or maybe minutes. Time flows unsteadily, the buzz of monitors her only sound. When her muscles tire, she plays solitaire and later a generic racing game. Finally, sleep slithers up her spine, and she manages a nap.

When she wakes, Lena sits at the desk again. This time a picture frame lays on the desk by her tablet. “Good morning,” she says with her boardroom voice, a carefully modulated and emotionless tone. “Have you thought about what I’ve told you?”

“Lena, please, don’t play games with me,” Sam pleads. Being alone messes with her mind, and she fears the silence. “Let me go home. I told you, if I killed people, I’d remember.”

Her fingers tap against the tablet. “Amnesiac episodes would not allow you to remember such things.”

“Then give me a better explanation than, ‘hey, you’re a supervillain in your spare time,’” Sam snaps. “Aren’t we family, Lena? Locking me up like this isn’t cool.” Frustration tingles through her limbs, and the urge to lash out bubbles through her. “I guess the saying is right,” she says.

“What saying?” Lena frowns.

“Ask an oncologist what's wrong, they'll say cancer. Ask a pulmonologist, they'll say asthma. Ask a Luthor…” The words freeze on her tongue. What is she saying?

No, no, she can't finish that thought.

Fury radiates from Lena’s eyes, her fists clenched, and her accent is nearly nonexistent. “They'll say Supervillain?” she finishes for Sam. “Maybe on some deep level you do know.” Her voice is cold, deadly almost, as the most unnerving alter of all comes to the front.

Sam shakes her head. “No, no, I didn't mean —”

“Let’s take a look, shall we? How about Morgan Edge, the bastard who tried to poison a city for profit.” Angry Lena walks back and forth by the edge of the forcefield, while her thumb punches the remote.

The television turns on behind Sam to a news segment of the attack on Morgan Edge.

“What I wouldn’t give to see how that played out.” The sneer on Lena's face looks foreign.

Sam scrambles to her feet and backs away, only to hit the other side of the forcefield. “What — what — no.”

“Or what about Supergirl? What did it feel like to connect your fist with something that solid? That powerful?” Another news segment appeared on the screen, where Supergirl falls motionless from a great height. “Or those men?” A third one flashes into view that depicts entrails and mangled bodies. “You tore those men apart. Ripped their limbs from their bodies.” The fury in her voice accents each verb with deadly accuracy. “Did you delight in their deaths?” Angry Lena steps closer, her stormy eyes boring into Sam.

“No!” Sam clenches her fists. Her whole body vibrates, and she feels like she’s about to explode. “Stop this! I just want to go home to my daughter!”

“As if I’d let you near Ruby again,” Angry Lena snarls. “How did it feel living in that house with her day in and day out? When you could easily snap her in half with your bare hands?”

“Stop this!” The energy rattles through her bones, rises up toward her head, and she feels frantic. Something terrible looms, and she can’t stop it.

When Angry Lena speaks again, Sam fails to comprehend. Her words trigger a flare of pain that rips through Sam’s body, catapults her mind into a frigid, grey fog.

Her feet slide on rocky soil.

Branches creak but there is no wind.

Shadows coil in her periphery, whispers caress her ears. Let go. Let go.

Misty hands brush against her ankles. She kicks them away and staggers backward, only for her hand to hit something soft and moist. She screams and jolts her hand away. Her feet slip on the gravelly soil, and she tumbles into a ravine. She curls up with her hands above her head and whimpers.

“Four, eight, twelve,” she counts, just like she did many times with Lena, “sixteen, twenty...”

The coldness abates, the fog fades, and light warms her eyelids. Pain burns through her body. She gasps and opens her eyes to find herself flat on her back.

Around her, the bed has been torn in half. The desk shredded. The monitor is ripped apart, and the television swings back and forth on its cords. A video plays. She watches the last bit of Angry Lena's cruel words, then the monstrous change ripples through Sam's body.

Not-Sam unleashes heat vision and tears apart the room with her bare hands.

Terror freezes her, her eyes wide. Metal snaps off the bed and hurls at the force field. It shimmers brightly. Lena ducks behind her desk in the video, and that sours Sam's mouth with bile.

She leaps forward to stab at the TV’s buttons in desperation. “Turn it off, turn it off!”

The television goes silent.

“We — we needed you to see it for yourself.” Lena’s voice whispers, pain in her voice. “And we didn’t know how else to do it. You — you weren’t listening. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“All those people…” Sam crumples and breaks into tears. Her hands are coated in blood. How can she ever face her daughter again?

The forcefield flickers and drops on one side, while Lena springs to her side. “Sam, Sam, it wasn’t your fault.” She wraps her arms tightly around her shoulders and presses her forehead against Sam's. “You weren’t in control. When Reign fronted, I got samples of her DNA, okay? And knowledge is power. We’re going to get you through this, okay?”

Sobs cascade through her body. She doesn’t know for how long she cries, but Lena rocks her gently. Kisses her temple, and strokes her hair.

Her voice changes to the thicker Irish brogue of Kieran. “It’s okay, luv. It’s okay. You’re not alone in this. We understand. We can cure this. Lena has a plan, and I’m sorry we spoke so harshly. It won’t ever happen again.”

Sam clings to such frail hope. Slowly, her sobs slow. She shivers and pulls back. “Kieran, you — you can’t be in here with me then. Not — not if I could turn into Reign.”

Kieran brushes hair from Sam’s face and cups her cheek, her eyes a turquoise color instead of Lena's usual emerald. “We know the risk.” She pulls out a phone and gently places it in Sam’s hands. “Call your daughter. We’ll clean up.” She kisses Sam on the forehead, and stands with a sad smile.

The affection in Kieran's voice takes the breath from Sam. For a moment, she stares up at her best friend, the part that has stayed fiercely loyal to Sam, and always touches her with such reverence.

Kieran doesn’t just love her as a friend, but perhaps more than one.

But Sam can never act on this realization, not with her complex roles in Lena’s life — Lena’s best friend, this nebulous more than friends with Kieran, the almost motherly role for Rory, and the grounding role for Angry Lena.

Her current state mars her roles, darkens her impact, threatens to sever their connection. The hurtful words they hurled at each other fade to a dull ache. Instead, Sam holds back a sob of grief. Her roles in Lena's and Ruby's lives define her.

Without them, who is she? How can she be useful to anyone?

She looks down at the phone and sags against the wall.

Kieran pushes out the shattered bed and desk. Sweeps away the glass and metal. A new bed she rolls into the enclosure.

As she works, Sam unlocks her phone and stares at the number for Ruby’s emergency phone. What does she even say? Grief lances through her, her heart charred by the horrors.

Her best friend finishes and pauses at Sam’s side. “Call,” she says, quietly. “You need to hear her voice as much as she needs yours.” The thicker accent is gone, and Lena’s deep emerald eyes meet Sam’s. She reaches out to gently trail her fingers along Sam’s right temple. “I’ll be just outside the enclosure, okay?”

Sam nods. She waits until the hum of the forcefield activates before she finally speaks. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier.”

“It’s okay, Sam. We’re sorry too.” Lena sits down on the other side, her tablet on the ground next to her. “We understand how scary this is. But a cure is possible. Whatever the cultists did, we can undo, okay?”

Sam shudders and tries to believe Lena, but her hope is fragile. Her mind keeps spinning back to the news segments, to the deaths by her hands — even if she wasn’t the one fronting. Images of entrails clog her thoughts.

No. Think of anything else. She takes a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. Thinks instead of the softness of Lena's hands against her face.

And the smile of her daughter as she eagerly shares a story from school.

Precious grounding moments.

She finally hits the dial button.

“Mom?” Ruby's voice shakes at first but then steadies. “Is it you?”

“Hey Rubes, it’s me. I wanted to check in on you.” She doesn’t dare tell her where she really is. In case it puts her in danger.

“Mom, are you okay? Is Aunt Lena with you?”

“Yes, she is. And the truth is, I am sick, so I have to stay in the hospital for a little while longer. But I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Can I come see you? I miss you.”

“Oh baby, I miss you too.” The tears flow harder, and she chokes back a sob. “But you can’t. It may be contagious, and I can’t risk you. Aunt Lena will be by to check on you, okay? And I’ll be home as soon as I’m better.”

It feels so futile. So banal of a promise. She can’t bring herself to lie further.

“But Mom, can't I just put on one of Lena's special hazmat suits? I'll be good!” Tears mangle part of her words, but Sam understands.

“No, you need to do what Aunt Lena says is best. She's good at what she does, okay? She's helping me too. I promise you, we'll get through this, okay?”

Ruby's sobs echo in Sam's ears. “Mom… I love you, okay? And maybe we can do a video call instead?”

No. No, she can't let Ruby see her in this state. “We'll see. I love you, Rubes. Love you so much. Be good for your Aunt Lena.” She hangs up before Ruby can say another word.

Lena speaks then. “Don’t worry about Ruby. I’ll take her to —”

“Don’t tell me where she is,” Sam interjects with a strangled sob. She looks up to see Lena fighting tears too. “Not until I’m cured.”

Lena nods as a few tears escape. That Sam can’t bear. To be the cause of it? She hides her face against her knees and curls up against the wall. Sobs broil down her body.

Behind her, Kieran’s Irish brogue sings a haunting tune that wraps around Sam, soothes her pain, until her sobs fade to ragged breathing and counting in multiples of four.

The next few weeks is torturous. Sam's hold on reality untethers as her sense of time and space evaporates into a haze of pain and fear. A war of fluorescent lights versus seething grey fog. They learn that the place Sam's mind goes is an alternate dimension related to the possession.

Waking from that dimension leaves Sam in a cold sweat. She leans against the forcefield with Lena leaning against the otherside. "How do you deal with this daily?" Sam wipes away her tears. "I — I don't know how to move forward. Not with — with that monster inside me."

"Acceptance of the truth is the first step," Lena admits. "I always had Kieran. They wrote in our shared journal and signed the entries. But to learn of new alters? Practice acceptance. You're already good at it."

"How can I accept that a blood-thirsty killer is inside me?" Sam whispers. "I never want to hurt anyone."

"It's not about accepting their actions, Sam. It's about accepting that they exist. You don't have to nor should you accept what they do." Lena shifts to press her hand against the forcefield. "Look at me, hun."

Sam turns and meets Lena's green eyes.

"My alters are me," she says, quietly. "We may have split into separate parts, each of unique in a way, but they are still me. But Reign is not you. Reign was forced on you. Accept she exists, but resist her control. This is your body."

"How do I do that?" Sam presses her hand over Lena's, the forcefield separating them from feeling the other's touch.

"You do it with me often. Ground oneself in the present. For you, ground yourself in your body. In your senses." Lena taps her ears and above her eyes. "It may feel like a fight, but you are strong." She taps her leg and tilts her head, her accent still the light one of Lena. "Since you go to that other dimension, try focusing on your body and how it feels. Imagine each sense, the height and weight, and clothes. Imagination is a powerful tool."

Sam ponders Lena's advice and wonders if she can pull it off while terrified out of her mind. Maybe if she practiced enough? "Can we go through this as an exercise? To practice?"

Lena smiles, faintly. "Sure."

They spend the next two hours practicing, and make it part of their daily activities. Each practice session, Sam feels a little stronger, more like she might actually be able to pull it off if she gets trapped in the other realm.

A week later, Lena attempts to capture data during Sam's times in the alternate dimension. One day she accidentally causes both Sam and Reign to manifest in that terrifying forest.

Branches curl toward her, and whispers coil around her. Shivering, she turns and freezes. An exact copy of herself stands a few feet away, clad in black, except her eyes are red. They shine in the dark fog.

She dives behind a tree.

“Sam, do you truly think you can resist me?” the words slide off the other's tongue like poisoned honey.

One second Reign is several trees away, and the next she's at Sam's side. Her hands reach for Sam's shoulder.

Sam throws herself backward. “Don't touch me.” She strives for bravado. Grabbing a stick, she swings it desperately.

Reign stalks her, moving unnaturally fast. One moment on Sam's left, the next on her right. Fog billows around her like monstrous wings, and the air charged with sparks of black lightning. Trees creak despite no wind. The cold leeches away Sam's energy.

Stay focused. Sam adapts her breathing to her Aikido training, her stance to a loose defensive one. This time her swing hits Reign in the chest.

Reign snaps the branch like a twig, and darts forward to snag Sam's throat. She's slammed against a tree. Red eyes bore into her. Whispers from the broiling fog chant, let go, let go.

No! She can’t leave Ruby. Or Lena.

She knees Reign in the stomach. The grip loosens enough for her to twist and perform a throw. Gasping in air, she stumbles backward. Her body — she needs to imagine what her body feels like. As she runs from Reign, who is staggering to her feet still, she pictures how her legs feel while running in the real world. How her muscles pump, how the fabric of her clothes rub against her skin, the way her hair falls across her neck and back, and the sweat that dampens her hair's roots.

She trips and falls through the ground and into the soft blankets of the medical bed. She's back in the forcefield room, far from Reign. Sam weeps and curls up, the fire in her veins pulses from the device on her shoulder. “No, no, don't do that again, Lena.”

“What happened?” Lena presses her hand against the forcefield, but she doesn't lower it or come closer.

“I was there with Reign.” Sam shudders. “God, that monster. You got to stop her, Lena. Please.”

“Oh crap.” Lena drops her hand to her side. “I — I got a sample of the enzyme causing the change just now. While you were passed out. I think I can synthesize a cure from it.”

Sam clings to the first good news in weeks. But like all good things, the very next day, the world erupts into chaos.

Two aliens rip apart concrete and metal and break into Lena’s lab. Seconds later, Supergirl and three others teleport into the room in a flash of red light. In the ensuing fight, Sam loses control.

She crashes into the nightmare realm. Mists seethe over her, and this time she can’t find her way back to her own body. Claw-like branches leer over her, whispers to let go tug at her ears, and the ground heaves like it breathes.

Desperate, she stumbles to her feet. Faces form in the mists and dive at her. She ducks and runs.

She trips over something soft. Turning, she gasps and jerks her leg off the body. A Korean woman lies there, her face locked in a silent scream.

Sam gasps and scrambles backward. Slipping, she tumbles down a ravine and into a cavern. Flickering blue light shimmers in its depths. One hand against the wall, she stumbles forward.

Turning a corner, she stops in shock. Black woman carves words into the sandstone rock. Names, places, but other words make no sense. Over and over, she carves and mutters incoherently.

"Hello?" Sam tries, but the woman doesn't respond. She only carves and shivers.

That’s when Sam sees firsthand how this realm eats away memories. Tears down the mind, until there is nothing left but to die.

She doesn’t know how long she’s there. But soon the whispers and growing pain starts to eat into her too. Her mind grows foggy, her memories slither away like oil.

She keeps the other woman company but struggles to remember why. Finds her own sharp rock and carves her name, Ruby's, and Lena’s along with anything else she can remember.

Faces form in the mists, and whispers slither like hands across her shoulders. She shivers and carves until her hands and arms ache.

The woman coughs, shakes, and freezes with glassy eyes. Sam watches in horror as the woman ceases to breath and tips over as if frozen solid. Mists coil over the body, faces form in the shadows, and mist hands sweep over the body.

Horror spikes, and Sam scrambles deeper into the cave. Near bubbling pools, one clear and one muddy. The walls of the cave close in on her.

Sobbing, she carves the names over and over. Figures coalesce, familiar until their faces twist into snarls, their eyes empty sockets. She huddles closer to the rock wall, ducks her head, and digs her rock deeper into the sandstone.

Her nails start to bleed, her palm raw. Still she carves.

A voice calls out her name. An almost familiar one. “Sam?”

She keeps carving. It’s another phantom. Another to distract her from her task.

“Sam. Sam, it’s me.” Gentle hands turn her face.

She looks into emerald eyes. “No — not real…” She tries to tug free, but this one is solid unlike the others. Fear curdles through her. She’s too weak too fight. Now they’ll kill her like the others.

“Sam, please, I really am here.” The green-eyed lady strokes her cheek in a familiar, almost calming way. “Count with me, okay? Four, eight, twelve, sixteen…”

“Twenty, twenty-four, twenty-eight…” Sam murmurs. Slowly, a memory surfaces of her doing exactly this with someone she loves. The name peels back. “Lena. You’re Lena.”

“Yes.” Lena embraces her. “Yes, it’s me.”

“But you — you’re not real.” Sam clings to her and a sob clogs her throat.

“I am. I really am.” Lena cards her fingers through Sam’s hair. “Supergirl and her friends helped me reach this place. She’s here with me, see?” She turns to look back, her arm still tight around Sam’s shoulders.

Two people stand behind Lena. One in a red cape with a red and blue suit. The other dressed in black with red hair cut short. Both familiar but the names escape Sam.

“Hey Sam,” the red-head says. “Remember me? We hang out a lot with your daughter. Gone clubbing a few times. You can drink me under the table.”

“Alex.” More names and memories bubble through the fog. “Supergirl?” She looks at the caped hero.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Supergirl smiles sadly. “Lena found a way to help you, but we need to find Reign first. We got to capture her. Go back to your body and signal us.”

“I — I don’t know how.”

“Hun, you do,” Lena says fiercely. “Just like you’ve always done for me when I’m lost in the fog.”

“Fog…” Sam struggles to remember, but the memories dance just out of reach. “What — what did I do for you?”

Lena breathes in sharply. She gently brushes Sam’s hair from her face. “I’ll teach you like you taught me. Count and breathe with me. Feel your body, use all of your senses.” She resumes counting. “Thirty-two, thirty-six, forty…”

Sam closes her eyes and leans her forehead against Lena’s shoulder. “Forty-four, forty-eight, fifty-two…” The multiples of four ground her, centers her breaths, and she feels a faint tug in her mind. She smells the air, feels Lena's touch against her skin, the weight of clothes on her body. As she continues to count with Lena, that tug grows stronger until it broils over.

She breaths in sharply and finds herself in a large cavern. On either side of her, two woman clad in a grey and black suit similar to her own chant in an unfamiliar language. Beyond them stands two people dressed in black robes with hoods, but they stand silent, eyes closed.

Energy seethes from the Reign-like women’s hands and her own. More sparks fly into the well in the center of the room. To her horror, with each pulse, the well burrows deeper, the bottom almost out of sight.

Quakes shimmer outward from the well, but the energy roots them. Meanwhile, the cavern itself shakes at each pulse, and a few stones fall near the hooded figures. Behind her, she sees a control panel with a blue crystal glowing in the center of it.

A memory surges through the simmering fog in her mind. That’s the same crystal she’d found when she went to speak to her adopted mother. It came from a pod in her mother's garage. Attackers had descended on them like rabid coyotes. She'd defended her mother, until a song ensnared her with pain. A dark fog blinded all her senses. She’d been trapped in a shroud of whispers, until she woke the next day in her bed at home.

Fury ignites. Lena is right yet again. Cultists did something, and it relates to that damn crystal.

It takes all of her strength to jerk herself out of the energy circle. Sparks sear across her skin.

She throws herself at the control panel, just as the two hooded figures call out in anger. She tugs it free. The energy currents flicker and go dark. She smashes the crystal against the console.

Howls of fury screech behind her. She’s ripped away from the panel, thrown across the cavern, and slams into stone. She stumbles to her feet, angry and desperate to stay in control.

The other two aliens attack, and she blocks their punches. Falls into her defensive stance. Throws one with a breath throw, and the other she dodges. Beyond them, the hooded figures start to chant, a harsh discordant melody. Black fog rises from the ground.

Sam knows she’s running out of time, but if she’s to get the signal out, she has to take out these assholes first.

She blocks their punches and tosses one of the Reign-like woman into the console. Strength beyond what she's ever felt burns through her, and she rips apart a rock to slam into the first Reign-like woman. She slumps against the broken console.

The second one catches her by surprise and slams a fist into her head. Sam stumbles, only to get another punch in the gut. She gasps and falls to her knees.

Dark fog curls around her legs.

But her body is still in the transformed state. She lets out a roar and ignites the heat vision. It slices through the cavern’s roof, burning through to the sky above.

The other Reign-like being punches her, and she skids across the ground. Her heat vision sputters to a stop. Another kick spends her spinning, and she lands far too close to the hooded figures. The dark fog coils around her, suffocates her breath, but dammit, if she’s going out, then she’s taking them with her.

She hurls herself into the hooded figures. One raises a hand, and she bounces against a shield.

Their feet still connect with the earth though. She digs her fingers deep and tugs upward with all her strength. The ground splits and the hooded figures shout. One tumbles into the pit, and the other snags a rock, holding on for dear life.

A chant sounds behind her. The remaining Reign-like asshole and sings a grating melody that bleeds into Sam's consciousness, like a worms burrowing into her flesh.

She can feel her consciousness start to slip away. She’s running out of time.

Desperate, she gathers the last vestiges of her will and rips up the ground and hurls it into the pit. The remaining figure falls screaming. Energy shoots upward, and the cavern shakes. Rocks slam down atop her. Her vision blackens.

She tumbles through the earth and hits the misty cavern of the nightmare realm. But no one is there. Lena and the others are gone. Shadows leer, lights flicker like sparks, and the pools behind her broil with wisps of light.

Terror threatens, but Sam grabs a rock and slams it against the sandstone. Ruby needs her. Lena needs her. She must hold tight to hope. Let it fuel her and burn away the memory-consuming fog.

She resumes her carving, and hours — days? — later violet energy sears into the ground around her. Pain rockets through her, and she screams in agony. Her cells rip and reform.

She’s thrown backward, through the earth, and slams into cold tile. There she shudders against the ground, spent.

“Sam?” Lena’s sweet voice, the one with the wisp of an accent, breaks through her exhaustion.

A warm blanket falls across her body. Sam blinks upward to see Lena holding a beaker stained with a black liquid. Relief surges at the sight of her beautiful face and emerald eyes.

“Do — do you have some Tylenol?” Sam manages a faint smile.

Lena drops to her side in relief, the beaker falls, and rolls under a half destroyed table. All around her lies the remains of a wrecked laboratory, and there, seated crosslegged near them is a cape-less Supergirl. She sights Alex and two others she doesn’t recognize sorting through the rubble.

“Sam.” Lena wraps her arms around her. Her warmth a balm to the cold that still clings to her from the nightmare realm. “God, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“You did it then?” She feels weak, shaky, but whole. Like a massive weight been lifted from her shoulders. “Destroyed Reign?”

“Obliterated her to dust,” Supergirl says, softly. “All thanks to Lena’s genius and a fancy, magical rock that hurt like hell to touch.”

“We couldn’t have done it without you, Sam,” Lena protests. “That signal you sent worked.”

“You stopped the cultists too,” Supergirl says, proudly. “Found them unconscious in that energy well. And you knocked out Reign. Made capturing her easy.”

“She did get feisty during the administering of the antidote,” Lena adds. She smiles tentatively, but her eyes still shine with a deep worry and sadness. “but we handled it.”

The tears in Lena’s eyes hurt to see. To know that Sam — even if it was some creepy alien possession using her body — caused that hurt? How much did it hurt her daughter too? How will they recover?

She wants to go home and hug Ruby, to reassure her that she’s back for good this time. To return to being just a CFO for Lena’s company. Back to her singleton self — as Lena often calls her.

But first, she wants to wipe away that worry from her best friend’s face.

“What can I say?” Sam jokes. “I just got that killing punch.” Her joke falls flat, and she ends up in tears instead. Who is she kidding? She can’t ever go back to the way things were after this. Her hands are stained now, even if it was another entity that used them for evil.

Lena holds her, gently rocking her. “Let it out, Sam. You’re safe now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers. She clings to Lena and huddles under the warmth of the red cape. “All this horror? All those people dead?”

“Hey, that wasn’t you.” Lena strokes her hair. “Don’t take on the crimes of another.”

“She’s right,” Supergirl says, gently. “Reign was forced onto you against your will. You are a victim. A survivor in this. And in time, you will heal. Take it in steps.”

Sam takes a shuddering breath. Those words are ones she’s often said to Lena. What had once been abstract prior, now blossoms into a deep understanding. Lena may not be trapped in a nightmare realm when other alters front, but the pain and fear that amnesiac moments cause? Sam understands now.

And now she can do better. For herself, Lena, and Ruby. To find a new path forward.

[dutybcrne]

Thinking abt Kae’s Fatui verse,,,,

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[macaiv]

Esteban on what happened during silly season 2018 and how he felt during the first race in 2019 being the Mercedes reserve driver.

[pharaohbean]

college starts in 1.5hrs and ive already been screwed over by them

for context: the specific way i am doing college atm (its not officially college long story) is that the government/state/whatever pays for everything in my classes except science/language lab fees. this includes textbooks—however, they only pay for the cheapest option. so you have NO idea if you’ll get physical or digital. thats fine by me, i can work with both.

so, lo and behold, i go to find my two textbooks for today (both digital)— and yeah, no, not there.

WHAT HAS HAPPENED IS THAT:

The book they said they’d sent me for one class not only isn’t where they said it would be, but it straight up ISNT THE TEXTBOOK FOR THE CLASS. the textbook for this class is free online, which is also funny to me bc this teacher doesn’t allow electronics in the classroom. like buddy did you expect us to memorize the book wtf

The OTHER textbook they said they’d pay the subscription for for the semester (YES THE BOOK IS LOCKED BEHIND A SUBSCRIPTION THIS IS A CALCULUS CLASS.) is, in fact, not paid for. I have it, but it’s on a 2 week free trial. And you’re thinking, “Zerro, just pay for it!” ITS A HUNDRED AND THIRTY DOLLARS ARE YOU NUTS?! NOT WHEN THEYRE SUPPOSED TO PAY THAT!

So NOW, I have to figure out how they’re supposed to pay for the latter textbook (because the former is straight up wrong anyways) while also just straight up not knowing how these classes even WORK (the calc class… has discussion forums required. What The F—) and yeah college is going GREAT.

[theswedishpajas]

🧃🐴✨🐴🧃

[miodiodavinci]

laying down by a brook with one hand in the water like some kind of tragic prince , , , , , ,