#to research for her fic

[kaurwreck]

There are little things that I forget aren't canon to bsd because they're in my beloved's fic sskk wip that I've read several times over + they simply make sense, including that Gin would love Your Turn to Kill (jpn: Anata no Ban desu).

[choccy-milky]

ty to @icedmatchawoatmilk13 for sending this to me! i may have gone a bit overboard but this was so much fun to fill out/think about BAHAHA💖 ill still never get over how perfect the song sarah smiles is for them...the lyrics AND the fact that its an alliteration...im gonna do an animatic about seb and clora to that song one day i swear 😩 ((blank template by oakwolves!))

[zishu-arts]

that’s HER human !!

[throes-of-warm-tornadoes]

okay no offense but i’m not a fan of Five finding his “real life” dolores. like, that diva was literally a coping mechanism for him. a tangible reminder that he was so lonely that he made a literal piece of plastic his companion. i think the idea of it is sweet but at the end of the day i think that if Five did find someone romantically it should be someone that makes him feel silly and carefree, not someone that is a fleshy replica of an Apocalyptic Souvenir

[mamawasatesttube]

Superboy (1994) #57

"Well, the thing is, I already know almost everything about you, Superboy." "Really?" "Sure. As the Project's most successful experiment, the journals have covered you extensively."

i want to see the journal articles about superboy pleaaase let me see the published cadmus research papers oh my god...

[thatonebirdwrites]

Pine

The needles crunched under Lena's shoes, her hands deep in the pockets of her red jacket. Around her, the pines stretched toward the cloudy sky and a dusting of snow coated the ground. Snow caught the world's noise like the sound-cancelling headphones Lena used when alone.

It's why she loved the first snow. The silence wrapped around her, and she disconnected from her reality.

Snow here in California felt strange, but hadn't everything been off-kilter since she woke in her penthouse, her brother suddenly alive again?

Her thoughts bounced between the new reality her brother had somehow crafted. One where he was a hero instead of a villain. One where he'd tripped over backward to manipulate her into working for him, but he'd forgotten one detail.

Sam.

She still worked in L-Corp's financials, and she was Lena's friend still. But it had been a friendship prior Lena kept from Lex for reasons that Earth-38 had yet to understand, considering how cryptic some entries became during the worldkiller crisis, and how a few had been in a code that Lena struggled to decode.

Lex didn't know how close prior Lena had been with Sam. Nor had he known Sam had been a worldkiller. Lena had hid from Lex to avoid Lex killing Sam too like he did the other worldkillers.

The place he'd lured Purity and Pestilence became an inhospitable, irradiated wasteland, but the nuclear bomb had obliterated those worldkillers. A massive clean-up effort had been under prior Lena's jurisdiction, along with research of the worldkillers' effects on the climate and how to stabilize it.

Her boots crunched on a twig, and Lena slowed her walk, reluctant to reach her destination.

The world saw Lex as the hero who saved them, but Lena knew the truth. Written in prior Lena's journals, Kara, prior Lena, Alex, J'onn, and Nia had all worked to save Sam and destroy the terraforming machine in totality. A fight that nearly cost them their lives.

Prior Lena hadn't hesitated in asking Supergirl for help, but then prior Lena knew Supergirl's true identity. She'd been trusted from the beginning by Kara.

Earth-38 Lena had tried to do it all alone, scared that whatever secret government group worked with Supergirl would kill Sam instead of save her. She had not been trusted from the beginning by Kara.

Prior Lena knew how to trust. She had faith in her friends. She hadn't been painfully betrayed again and again and again. Most of her sour experiences lay in arguments with Lex about use of military weapons and the buying of the DEO.

Oh, and apparently Andrea had betrayed her in this reality too.

So here Earth-38 Lena existed as an interloper. Someone who shouldn't exist in this reality. Prior Lena had been erased, and Earth-38 Lena walked under pine branches in prior Lena's shoes.

Bitter, distrustful, and wrapped in pain -- Sam had noticed immediately the difference, and no amount of hiding from her worked. She'd been relentless in showing up to check on Lena. To find out why Lena was in such grief and pain.

Lena hunched in her jacket as she approached the center of the park. She thought of Sam's talk last night, of how it'd gone off the rails rather quickly, and she'd ended up confessing everything.

She hadn't realized how badly she'd needed a sounding board.

"Sam, I don't know what to do. Work with Supergirl or my brother? It's not like I can trust either. Both have used me in the past." Lena pressed her hands against her forehead. "I've been just a tool..."

"No, you're not going there," Sam interrupted as she sprinkled more flour across the cutting board, where she worked her gluten-free dough with expert fingers. In the living room, the music from Ruby's game drifted into the kitchen. "I get that it feels that way, but from what you've said, Supergirl tried to fix things, right?"

Lena shrugged. She still wasn't sure if Kara's actions were guilt or truly her trying to engage in repair.

"And your brother somehow made this reality..." Sam shook her head. "Which is a little hard to believe, but..." She studied Lena for a long moment. "But you aren't yourself."

"Oh?" Lena sneered. "Then how am I supposed to act?" She hadn't meant to sound so defensive, but Sam's words hurt.

Sam sighed and waved her hand vaguely at Lena. "That right there isn't you. The Lena I know laughs more, believes in the goodness of humanity, works toward a more equitable world."

"Equitable world. That's what I'm trying to do!" Lena crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Sam.

"Is it?" Sam punched down into the dough with far more force than it warranted. "We used to go to activist events about the climate and alien rallies together. But the last few weeks, you've become a bitter recluse. And now this new project? This sudden turn from disaster relief and climate studies to mind control? Honestly, Lena, I don't know what to say."

"It's not mind control," Lena protested, but it was a weak protest. Exhaustion soaked her bones, and she wondered if Sam was right. "It's just an algorithm to prevent people from hurting one another. It'll be a more equitable and safer world."

Sam frowned. "Right. And how is that not a violation of free will?"

"Sam." Lena looked at her pained. "I'm trying to free humanity from suffering."

"Are you?" Sam's beating of the dough grew more pronounced, the flour dusting the marbled counter. "Lena, my suffering is what molded me into who I am today. Yes, it sucked at times, and some of them were my fault. But I learned and did better."

"But wouldn't things be better for Ruby if she didn't have to suffer like you did?" Lena knew it was a weak argument, but part of her felt so hollowed by Lex's actions, by this new reality, that her heart wasn't in fighting for this project. She'd become disillusioned since waking up in hell.

"Of course I don't want Ruby to suffer!" Sam flipped the dough and dug her knuckles into it before rolling it into a ball and repeating the gesture. "But I won't let anyone, even you Lena, take away from Ruby her ability to choose."

"It's not about--" Lena's words died at Sam's glare.

"Keep lying to yourself, hun." Sam wiped her hands on a hand towel that hung from the stove's handle. "Lena, I've always had your back, right?"

Lena wasn't sure exactly what Sam had done in this reality, but the prior Lena's journal entries -- since when did she write in a journal anyway? -- her, Sam, and Kara had met up often for drinks or board games.

So this Sam had no idea what Lena went through, nor what Kara had done. How the hurt between them soured everything. Her attempt to explain had failed; the words just wouldn't come out; her thoughts and emotions a bundle of pain and fear.

Lena had used Kara, trapped her in kryptonite, and still failed. All her plans for naught, and she, honestly, should have stayed dead. She didn't deserve to be here. This should be prior Lena's life, the person who was a true hero, not like herself.

"Lena?" Sam grasped her shoulder. "You got that haunted look in your eyes again. What is it?"

"You don't know what I've done," Lena whispered. "Or what Kara did on that prior Earth. You weren't there. I -- I shut you and everyone out after the betrayal."

"Then don't do it here. Don't push us away for a project that would steal our free will."

Lena laughed, but it turned into a sob. The walls of Sam's kitchen, which had felt so comforting at first, folded in on her, and she needed air. She turned to run, but Sam caught her arm.

To her surprise, Sam spun her into a hug. "I said I'd always have your back, Lena, so how about this." She murmured into Lena's hair, her arms warm and comforting -- something Lena hadn't felt in months (lifetitmes?). "How about this. Let's explore options. I'll get my hands on a truthseeker, and we'll put it on Kara. You'll get the truth you want, and I'll be there this time."

Despite not remembering Earth-38, Sam acted remarkably like the Sam there. Lena sunk into Sam's embrace, and a few tears escaped. "Okay," she said, quietly. "We'll try your way."

So here she was, walking in the climate-change snow toward the meeting place. She'd let Sam pick it, let Sam reach out to invite Kara, to act the neutral party.

Sam didn't have Lena's history with Supergirl and Kara, and Kara had no reason to suspect Sam of villianry. Yet Lena wondered if Alex and the others were watching somewhere, ready to judge her, condemn her, maybe even nuke her.

Because she wasn't a fool. On Earth-38, she'd seen Claymore change it's orientation. Hope had calculated the trajectory, and it had pointed at her.

If that was Alex or Kara, Lena didn't know, but her heart suspected Alex. Kara had been too desperate to convince save her despite Lena trapping her in kryptonite.

This was a detail she hadn't told Sam. How could she?

Sam was all she had left, and she was the loophole in Lex's plans. Because whatever he planned, it might be worse than the red sun incident or Red Daughter/Kaznia. Prior Lex had been too free with his military toys during crises, but he'd been far kinder and more accepting than Earth-38 Lex.

No, trusting Lex, even after his truthseeker confession, was a dangerous situation. Lena had seen Lex's tells when the truthseeker sat on his arm. He'd omitted things, said only what he believed was true to convince her.

But what had he omitted? What did she fail to see?

A cold breeze ruffled the branches of the vines, and needles shook loose to drift softly into the snow. Ahead the clearing where benches loomed before a fountain. Lena stopped at the edge or the pine forest and ducked behind a trunk.

There, sitting on the central bench, Kara sat watching the sky, where a few snow flurries danced above the fountain, it's water shut off and a thin layer of ice over what remained in its marbled bowl.

Her golden hair hung loose, and the wind whipped to the left, locks drifting across her face. She looked ethereal in the light of the setting sun, her skin almost aglow. Her glasses were in her hands as she cleaned them with a white cloth. She wore no protective gear for the cold, no scarf, no winter coat, no boots, just a navy blue jacket and jeans with sneakers.

The grief and pain in her soul pulsed with the love that she'd failed to exorcise. Her urge to walk over, push Kara against the bench, and kiss her haunted her thoughts. Nothing had exorcised that desire from her traitorous heart.

She leaned against the rough bark, and nibbled on her bottom lip. Maybe she should leave now, before anyone noticed her.

But the thought of the truthseeker on Kara kept her rooted in place. She needed the truth, all of it unfiltered. No more omitting facts, no more lying, no more half-truths.

Part of her dreaded what she'll find, another part urged her to push forward with the plan, and yet another part burned with a desire to just run from everyone. To leave this cursed city and disappear from everyone.

Footsteps caught her attention, and she sighted Sam on the opposite side of the clearing. No, she'd ghosted Sam once already. Of all the people in her life, Sam hadn't ever betrayed her. She didn't deserve to be hurt again by Lena.

Sam rounded the fountain, a duffel bag over her shoulder, and her winter coat a different color than what Lena remembered. On Earth-38, Sam wore darker colors, often navy blue, black, or brown. Here she wore a forest green winter coat with brown cuffs and collar.

"Hey Kara! Thanks for meeting." Sam waved with a smile. "I know you've been really busy lately."

"Yeah." Kara brushed off snow. "It's weird to see snow in California."

"Polar vortex dipped too far south again." Sam shrugged. "Lena was studying it by the way. Had an idea on how to stabilize the climate, but..." She dropped onto the bench next to Kara, her duffel at her feet. "It's been a weird few weeks."

"Yeah. That's for sure." Kara's laugh sounded forced. "Was anyone else meeting us?"

"Yeah, one more." Sam scanned the clearing. Lena tried to keep out of sight in the pines, but her friend was far too observant. "Lena, stop hiding, girl. I can see that red jacket."

Lena sighed and stepped out from behind the pine. She tugged on her fingers nervously. "Hi." She didn't know what else to say.

"Lena?" Kara shot to her feet, her eyes wide. "What -- what are you doing here?"

Gingerly, Lena stepped out of the pine's safety and onto the stone tiles of the clearing. "I -- I was asked by Sam to come as well."

Kara frowned. "Last time we talked you almost threw a wine glass at my head."

"Wait she did?" Sam looked between the two. "Well, I suppose that's better than the microscope at Jack's head."

That was another weird thing about this reality. Jack still lived, but prior Lena had never dated Jack. Instead, she'd dated a lot of women, no men at all. Another major difference -- prior Lena was a lesbian, but Earth-38 Lena was a bisexual.

"A microscope?" Kara repeated. "What did he do?"

"Irritated me," Lena said, with a shrug. "His testing plans were ridiculous, and he wasn't listening to me." She walked to the bench, but didn't sit down. "Um, so, did Sam tell you what this is about?"

Kara glanced at the dufflebag. "Sort of? She said she'd bring a truthseeker to help mediate between us."

"Both of us will take turns with it," Lena said. She sat down on the armrest of the nearby bench. Cold seeped into her clothes. "The full truth, no holding back."

Kara nibbled on her bottom lip. "Okay."

Lena frowned. "Just okay? No self-righteous speech about how I should trust you without it?"

Kara sighed. "I don't want to fight you, Lena. If this helps you then I'll do it."

Sam unzipped her bag and pulled out a silver cylinder. "I admit, this is weird. Both of you are not acting like the Kara and Lena I knew." She settled the cylinder on her lap and shook her head. "Lena had been panicking over whether she should ask you out before-- before whatever caused this weird change."

Lena looked down at her hands. She'd read that in prior Lena's journals, and it had hurt so much. Prior Lena had confidence in everything but love, and yet, she'd still been more courageous than Earth-38 Lena. Prior Lena admitted to her love, while Earth-38 Lena hid from it.

"Wait, you were going to ask me out?" Kara leaned closer to Lena. "Really?"

"Prior Lena," she said flatly. "It's in her journals. She was a meticulous record keeper. Better than even myself."

Sam shook her head. "Comments like that sure make this surreal. So who wants to go first?"

"I will." Kara pushed up her sleeve and held out her arm. "Do it, Sam."

Lena said nothing, only watched as Sam carefully keyed the code and opened one end. She tilted it into Kara's lap.

The unnerving creature slipped out and wrapped its appendages around Kara's arm. The hiss of not-quite pain escaped Kara's lips, and a hint of redness blossomed around the tentacles.

"Ask away," Kara said, her voice trembling slightly as she looked at Lena.

"Did you ever trust me?" Lena couldn't meet Kara's gaze, so she picked at her cuticles instead.

"Yes. I did."

Lena frowned. "Are you immune to that thing or what? How can you say you trusted me and yet you used me."

"Lena," Kara said, fervently. "I did trust you. It's myself I didn't trust. I made a big mistake by using James to go behind your back and search for kryptonite. I'd been so wrapped up in pain at seeing my people harm Earth again, that when I heard synthesized, all I saw was red. And red would have doomed us."

"Red what?" Lena demanded. "It sounds like you're just making up excuses."

"Red Kryptonite," Kara said, her voice strangled almost. "Max Lord made it on Earth-38. It... it brings out the darkest parts of me, and people almost died. Alex and J'onn had to use everything they had to subdue me enough for the cure."

Red welts appeared along the edges of the wrapped tentacles. Something she'd never seen on Kara's skin before -- her always flawless skin, always flawless hair, always perfect in every way. More signs that she was not fully human if Lena had been more observant.

Or maybe more honest with herself.

"Is that your excuse? Past trauma giving you the right to use people I cared about and my name against me?" Lena wanted to slap Kara, but that'd likely break her hand.

"It's not an excuse, Lena. It's my truth. I fucked up, and I'm sorry."

The curseword stole all the angry accusations from Lena's lips. She'd never heard Kara curse ever.

"So," Sam said, cautiously. "Lots of bad blood between you two. My question is, what is real? This Earth-38 or our current world?"

Kara slumped against the bench. "Earth-38 and the multiverse at large was destroyed in the antimatter wave. It took all of us paragons -- and there wasn't many of us honestly -- to end that threat and restore the multiverse. I don't think Earth-38 will ever exist again." Pain coated her voice. "I couldn't save them."

"I couldn't either," Lena pointed out. "I build that massive portal, evacuated who I could, and yet we still died on Earth-1, didn't we? So all our actions were pointless."

"Never," Kara snapped. "We still thought we had a chance to win when that happened. You saved so many, Lena. You didn't have to do that. You could have turned Alex away."

"I'm not a monster," Lena said. She dropped onto the bench proper, and rested her arms on her knees, her hands clasped. "All I've ever wanted is to do good."

"Then do good now!" Kara said, earnestly. "Help us against Leviathan and Lex. Don't --"

"Stop." Lena struggled against an urge to cry. Why was she doing this? It felt like torture. Her heart ached, and she didn't deserve this second chance at life. "I manipulated you for months, Kara. Used you to finish my project. I encased you in a kryptonite prison."

"Yeah, that was awful." Kara winced. "More than awful. Like lava in my veins, but you didn't leave me there. It melted the moment you left, and you'd programmed a drone to saturate me with the sunlight I needed to recover," Kara pointed out. "You could have killed me, but you didn't."

Lena didn't say anything. She couldn't kill Kara.

She was capable of killing her own brother, but she couldn't kill Kara.

Her nightmares about Lex's death had returned with a vengeance since she woke in this hell world. She could feel the heft of the pistol in her hands. The stench of gunpowder as she shot her own brother. Her ears still echoed with the gasps of his breaths between his rants. He had checkmated her, and the truth he'd revealed about Kara obliterated Lena's heart.

"Why try to save me?" Lena watched the snow blow across the fountain's ice. "I saw Claymore reorient itself to face my location. You could have fired it."

"No! I would have caught caught it, taken the blast myself."

Lena's eyes darted to the truthseeker still on Kara's arm. The red welts had grown. Next to Kara, Sam sat silent, her eyes on the truthseeker, and a troubled expression on her face.

"Why?" Lena leaned closer to Kara, one arm against the bench's armrest. "Why are you so damn determined to save me? I'm not worth this effort, Kara. You should have let me die that day."

"Never. I can't lose you, Lena. I can't." Pain etched into Kara's voice.

"Why? Why can't you?" Lena snapped. "Why do you persist? You didn't care before! Lying to my face over and over again. And I, the lovesick fool, fell for it every time."

"Lena, when I was just Kara with you, I wasn't ever lying." The pain in Kara's voice echoed with a deep grief. "I can't lose you because I love you." Her face reddened, and she looked at the truthseeker.

Lena breathed in sharply. "Love?"

"Yes," Kara said, weakly. "I love you. And I wanted to protect you. But I was a coward. I couldn't be just Kara with you, even though I tried so hard. If either of us should have died in Crisis, it should have been me."

The red welts crept up Kara's arm. Lena couldn't take her eyes off it. "What's happening to your arm?" She pointed to the affected areas.

"I think I'm allergic to it," Kara whispered.

"Okay, that's enough." Sam double tapped the creature, and it unwrapped from Kara. It's slimy skin glistened with a soft blue glow, and it slithered back into its cylinder. "I'm sorry, Kara. I can go run and grab some Aloe Vera for you?"

"No need, Sam." Kara smiled, tiredly. "Time in the sunlight will heal this."

Lena stared at Kara's arm, the confession rattling against the sight of the allergic reaction.

Sam closed the cylinder and shifted to tuck it into her bag. "If you're allergic, then I don't think we should risk anyone--"

"Do it, Sam." Lena tugged her arm out of her coat and held it out. The cold bit into her arm, and she steeled herself. "I said both of us, and I, unlike some, follow through on promises."

"Lena..." Sam frowned. "What if you're allergic too?"

"I don't care. Just do it."

Kara looked back and forth between two, her brow scrunched with worry. She stayed silent, one hand lightly rubbing her sores.

Sam grumbled but walked over and opened the cylinder above Lena's arm. The creature slid out and wrapped around Lena's arm, and a rush of chemicals seethed into her veins.

Lena gasped at the mixture of pain and an intense desire to speak bloomed within her.

"Ask your questions, Kara," Sam said, sharply.

Kara stared at the truthseeker. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes. No. yes." Lena struggled against the urge to scream her truth. To hold herself back somehow, but whatever the truthseeker slipped into her blood overcame her. "I trust you to keep me alive. I trust you to come to my rescue. But I don't trust you with my heart. You broke it."

Kara took a haggard breath, her eyes haunted. "I'm sorry, Lena. Truly I am."

"Stop apologizing!" Lena snapped. "Ask me why! Ask me why it hurt so much, Kara!"

Kara flinched. "Okay, okay, why did it hurt so much?"

The words exploded out of her. "Because I'm in love with you. All I wanted was you. It's why I bought Catco. For you. It's why I led it and gave Sam L-Corp's CEO position. To be close to you. Why do you think I filled your office with flowers?" Tears stung her eyes, and she gulped back a sob. "To learn you never trusted me with your true self?"

"But I did! You saw me, the me I wanted so badly to be, and if it weren't for you, I would have lost myself after losing Mon-el." Kara darted to her feet and dropped down in front of Lena. "You are my light, Lena. My heart. And I'll never stop fighting for you." She started to reach for Lena's hands, but Sam intervened and pushed her back.

"How can I trust that?" Lena blurted. "I'm scared. I'm scared to trust again, scared to love you. I should have died, Kara." Tears blurred her vision, and yet she couldn't stop. The truthseeker pulsed its toxins into her, pushing her to spill her truth. "I erased prior Lena, who was a much better person than me. I'm a murderer, a villain, a monster that should have died."

"No!" Kara shouted, frustrated. "You deserve life."

"Okay, that's enough." Sam tapped the truthseeker and collected it in its container. It left slight red marks on Lena's arm, but nothing compared to Kara's. "No one deserves death, for God's sake." Sam ran a hand through her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. "You two have apparently gone through hell on Earth-38." She locked the lid and stowed it in the bag. "But this is getting ridiculous. I want you both to talk, while I return this. When I get back, you two better have talked this out, or I'm gonna lock you two in a room for a week. Don't test me."

Lena shoved her arm back into her warm coat, and zipped it shut. "Fine." She felt raw, exposed, but the truth had been laid bare. The truthseeker had done it's duty.

Kara clenched her hands into fists but said nothing. True to her word, Sam slung the bag over her shoulder and marched to the south, the far end of the park.

"Would Sam really lock us in a room?" Kara said after a long moment of silence.

"Yes." Lena chuckled softly, but it felt hollow still. "She locked me and Jack in a room to force us to talk through a rather ridiculous fight. I was being stubborn. She even barricaded the door."

"Well then." Kara sat back on her heels, her hands on her knees. She looked up at Lena. "I suppose we should talk then?"

Lena wiped her eyes. "I guess."

"Lena," Kara reached out, but her hand hovered between them, uncertainty on her face. "Can we start over? This time honesty and trust will be our cornerstone. And we can rebuild from there?"

This was the one difference between Lex with the truthseeker and Kara. Lex didn't love her. He'd chose his words carefully for maximum manipulation. He hadn't worn the truthseeker long, only enough for him to say the words he knew Lena wanted to hear.

He refused to keep it on for her questions.

But Kara had worn it long enough to blister her skin.

Lena reached out tentatively and grasped Kara's hand. She tugged Kara closer, her other hand gently running along the edge of the red welts. "This is new to me," she said softly. "I -- starting over feels overwhelming. Can it really be that easy?"

"Who said it'd be easy?" Kara settled between Lena's legs, her face upturned. Her gorgeous blue eyes met Lena's emerald ones, and her hair hung in soft ringlets around her beautiful face.

Lena's other hand betrayed her and tucked a lock of Kara's hair behind her ear. She bit her lip, and tucked both her hands under her legs. "I'm tired, Kara. Tired of fighting." She bowed her head, her hair cascading around her face. The snow seeped into her pants, and the wet spread its coldness to her skin. "I'm in hell. Lex masterminded all of this, and that makes us what? Pawns on a chessboard? I murdered my own brother for you. I stained my soul forever. Only for him to somehow survive." She laughed bitterly. "I'm a monster, Kara."

"No. No you're not." Kara gently tugged Lena's hand free and rubbed her thumb over her skin. Warmth radiated from Kara's hand. "You did what you needed to keep us all safe. You deserve care and love. Rebuilding will be hard, I know, but I think you're worth it. I wouldn't have agreed to come if I didn't believe that. Nor would I have tried to warn you about Lex once I woke up here."

Lena thought of the prior Lena's journals. Of the projects she'd been doing, projects Earth-38 had forgone to focus on Harun-el-- her hubris nearly destroying what she'd hoped to save. Or her revenge, once again abandoning projects that could have really helped people out of her delusions of grandeur.

"I'm not better than Lex," Lena said. "Sam's right. Non Nocere is just another mind control project. One Lex will definitely find a way to twist and pervert."

"Then don't do it. Work on other things." Kara leaned closer, her face inches from Lena's own. "Let me work with you. I was the youngest in centuries to be accepted to Krypton's Science Guild, at least before it died." She took a deep breath. "So maybe earth science uses odd units and programming languages, but I can learn it. You don't have to do it all alone, Lena. Please, let's start over. This time on the right foot."

Lena leaned her forehead against Kara's. The warmth seeped into her, and she took a shaky breath. "Okay."

[gothamite-rambler]

Batfamily Mitzvah

Context: I learned about Bruce is canon Jewish because his mother was and this is if Kate dragged Bruce to a family bar mitzvah.

Kate is reading a People magazine.

Kate: Bruce, do you know Linda?

Bruce (sorting through paperwork): The crazy family member? That doesn’t narrow it down, does it?

Kate: Not really. She’s our third cousin, but she goes by Aunt Linda. She’s the one who hit her husband with her car, and when he survived, they stayed together.

Bruce: That Linda... I’ve always hated her. I remember she used to insult my mom for not marrying the right man.

Kate: That's the one. We all hate her at this point. Anyways her son's son—

Bruce (correcting tone): Her grandson?

Kate rolled her eyes.

Kate: Yes, smartass. They’re throwing him a bat mitzvah in a few weeks, and they invited me. You’re coming.

Bruce: I’m busy that day.

Kate: I haven’t told you when it is.

Bruce: My schedule is full when it comes to visiting 'Aunt' Linda and her insane family.

Kate: My bad, cuzzo. You misunderstood. That wasn’t an invitation; it was a command. I’m not going alone.

Bruce: Why not?

Kate (looking up from her magazine): I’m a lesbian, and they’re very religious. Linda will be there and has made it very clear that “Oh, it’s just a phase, darling. You’ll find the right man!”

Bruce: Why am I coming, though? I don’t like her, and I don’t want to hear her voice again.

Kate: I’m bringing you so she can ask why you’ve adopted those kids and aren’t married yet, how one of them died and then came back to life, why you’re dating a former bank robber, and why you only have one biological son. Tsk, tsk, naughty, naughty, naughty. I told her some things about you in the group chat, and she’s already asked a lot of evasive questions... about you. Make sure you have a good suit; that’s basically all you wear.

Bruce: Oh, okay... I have no say in the matter. Got it. Fine.

Kate (dryly): There’s the master detective you pride yourself on being.

Bruce (already regretting this): What time are we supposed to be there?

Kate: We have to be at the synagogue early in the morning because it’s on a Sunday—you are going into the synagogue; I don’t want to hear it.

Bruce groaned, rubbing his temples. He never seemed to get along with churches, but he knew he had no say in the matter when it came to Kate and her persistence.

Kate: After that, the party is at three. I hate talking to so many of them; we can sneak off, have a drink, whatever you want to do, and show back up at four. Are you bringing the kids?

Bruce (sarcastically): Was that a question I'm allowed to answer? Thank you so much for allowing me to respond.

Kate: I can be nice like that.

Bruce (aggravated): No, they’re not going. I don’t even want to bring Damian. They wouldn’t like that side of the family.

Kate: Hmm, I never asked—are you practicing Judaism?

Bruce: Nope.

Kate: Why? Aunt Martha was Jewish; by extension, you’re Jewish.

Bruce: That’s not true.

Kate: You’ve studied numerous forms of fighting, weapons, and even opera, but you don’t know that if your mother is Jewish, you’re Jewish, too? Damian, however, is ethnically Jewish. Your dad doesn’t factor in... were you unaware?

Bruce glares at Kate, refusing to answer.

Kate: Oh my goodness! Yes, I knew something you didn’t know!

Bruce (rubbing his forehead): Yup, I’ll give you that. But for your information, I was never raised with a Jewish upbringing.

Kate: Seriously, I thought they’d do something—

Bruce: They died when I was eight in an alley. You lose the spirit of anything when that happens!

Kate (sighing): You use that excuse too much.

Bruce: My parents died!

Kate (silent for a second): My sister is clinically insane, and one of your sons shook hands with God. It’s not a competition.

Bruce: The way Jason tells it, he met Satan for some time.

Kate: He’s joking; were you unaware of that as well?

Bruce refused to respond, pretending to read a document on his desk.

Kate (laughing): Are they aware you’re Jewish?

Bruce: Yes, but again, I’m not practicing. So it’s like... yes, but no.

Kate: Oh, so me. Cool.

Kate returned to reading, while Bruce looked over a case about Scarecrow.

Bruce (desperate): Can I pay you—

Kate (firmly): You’re going to this party; money won’t change that.

Bruce (half-sarcastically): I just love these special moments we share.

Kate: Aww, same here, cuzzo.

Batfamily mitzvah -> pt 2

[crookedfivefingers]

“Impossibly thick, I was.”

Doctor Who . Titan Comics

The Thirteenth Doctor | Read: 201/204

[fishareglorious]

Oh, it says here that apparently Sonetto's udimo is a Sicilian Greyhound.

[puhpandas]

Cassie Cooper from my fic The Vanishing of Gregory Cooper :)

[asukiess]

dearest family gabenath is truly like. the most disgusting. like for nathalie. there have been worse moments, but she’s reminding me of being in my early twenties, texting my friend like nooooo do NOT think you can fix him. do NOT think you can hype up your man’s lame ass band that can’t even land gigs at the dive bars. gabriel’s literally like wahhhh I can’t do it :( nathalie im too weak :( and her only saving grace is that she’s like JUST FUCKING TRY HARDER!!!! cough cough IT ISNT DIFFICULT!! but unfortunately she’s like 35 and should know better.

[dandelion-wings]

For the angst/gore prompts, could we please have “06: Not Realizing They’re Injured” from the first list with Kujou Sara? Especially something to do with those poor wings I sincerely doubt she was ever taught how to properly take care of.

Thank you for the ask! <3 I have to apologize for this one too, anon, because it's another one that ended up not very whumpy--more a mix of hurt/comfort and angst (and a dose of 'how much can I villain Takayuki?'), because your particular prompt sideswiped a fic idea(s)(really more a constellation of fic premises and themes) that I've been turning over for a while and just kind of. stuck to that until it was irretrievably gummed together. I hope it is still sufficiently wing-focused to earn your forgiveness!

---

Kujou Takayuki has never once told Sara that she isn't permitted to fly.

She remembers his frown when she was a child, the one time she had leapt into the air to gain an advantage in training. Even though it had given her tactical superiority, he had penalized her for it when evaluating those training exercises. At the time, she had thought it about honor, about the unfairness of exceeding her peers not by outdoing them through the same efforts, but by using an advantage they did not.

When she was older, rising through the ranks in the field, she had once in extremis made an attempt to scout from the air. That time she had seen the frowns on other officers' faces before she had even landed, and understood that honor didn't figure into this at all. It was about being different, being *other*, about the fear some of her soldiers couldn't hide when reminded that she was a youkai, about the contempt some of her superiors showed when they thought she could not see or hear. About her adoption by humanity and what was required of her to uphold the Kujou name.

By the time she becomes a general herself, she doesn't need to be told to stay on the ground.

Flight might have been an advantage for her on the battlefield, but it had never been a necessity. No other tengu has served in the Almighty Shogun's military for almost five hundred years. *Certainly* none served in Watatsumi's. Perhaps she might have gained an edge by taking to the air, but she did not lose significantly by refraining.

After the war, after the Sakuko Decree is lifted, after Takayuki is removed as head of the Kujou Clan and the Tenryou Commission alike, that changes. Gliders have existed for hundreds of years, but have never before been a popular import, nor often even a permitted one; they are different and foreign, and the Almighty Shogun was so long resistant to things that were different and foreign that the Tri-Commission feared to march in lockstep. So has it been with many imports that the Kanjou Commission is only now slowly coming to authorize.

Gliders are particularly popular, due to the mountainous nature of many of Inazuma's most populated islands, where they no doubt would have been popular long before if not for the Tri-Commission's care, but the traveler had made their use seem particularly alluring and permissible. Unfortunately, it isn't only law-abiding citizens who can obtain them now that the sea around Inazuma is clear. The Doushin are struggling to keep up with bandits and smugglers who can just glide away from arrest.

Kamaji, after the third report of such in a row, orders a shipment of gliders from the Knights of Mondstadt to be distributed to the Doushin. When he tells Sara, he smiles, and nods to her wings, and adds, "Though you're fortunate enough not to need them."

Which is all but an order. Even if Takayuki *had* told Sara she wasn't permitted to fly, this would be the new head of the Kujou Clan countermanding that instruction. That the thought of spreading long-disused wings leaves her uneasy doesn't affect her duty.

---

The next such encounter occurs before the shipment of gliders has even arrived. This is a particularly troublesome group of bandits, who have escaped the Doushin twice before; when another report of their activities comes in, Sara leads her forces after them herself. They find the bandits' camp on the edge of a cliff, and when they're startled while celebrating their ill-gotten gains, it seems inevitable that the less drunken and more sharp-witted of them attempt to glide to an escape.

"You, securely bind our existing captives. You, take your troops down that way, and you, that way," Sara orders, pointing out the fastest safe routes down the cliff. "They seem to be aiming for that cliffside, so they may have a secret tunnel or hatch. I'll attempt to cut them off before I get there."

She turns away as the Doushin rush to follow her commands, and spreads her wings at the edge of the cliff. This isn't the first time she's done this, of course--flight is powered by muscles, and any muscle must be exercised. As soon as Kamaji had given his instructions, she'd begun practicing each day, finding a private place in the caverns beneath Inazuma City and attempting first short glides, then short flights, then longer ones. None have been in so open a place as this mountainside with the canyon at its foot, wind whistling through, but she trusts in her training. She could have flown this easily as a child.

Her wings catch the air as she leaps off the edge, and then she's swooping down, flapping to gain speed and get past the gliding bandits, diving towards the cliff to which they're trying to flee. From now she can indeed see a too-deep shadow at the base, where bushes grow. Despite the seriousness of the situation, there's a lightness in being aloft in the open air, a *joy* in flight, that only now that she feels it again does Sara recall, dimly, from her boisterous early childhood. She smiles to herself, all the unease she'd felt when anticipating this change falling away.

The bandits are behind her now, and the cliff close ahead. She flares her wings again to catch herself in the air and adjust, so that she can turn the dive into a plunging attack before she hits the cliff-

A gust of wind hits her broadside as she spreads her wings wide. The force of it wrenches her right wing with a pull that flares into lancing pain, and then the wing collapses in on itself at the wrong angle.

Sara finds herself spiraling as she flaps only the left, desperately trying to slow herself down, to change her bearing. Shifting her grip on her bow, she closes that wing before she reaches the cliff, the other not drooping and dragging limp, and manages to plummet the last few meters and land on both feet. Her right ankle twinges at the awkward landing.

She still manages to turn and straighten and aim before the bandits actually reach her. The uncooperative wing is still alight with pain, but she grits her teeth and lets Electro crackle around her. The bandits hesitate and spread wide to flank her, putting themselves right into the arms of her Doushin.

Lowering her bow, Sara takes a step forward and collapses to one knee as the fractured bone in her ankle snaps under her weight.

---

To add to the humiliation of being carried home by her subordinates, one of her officers goes out of their way to report her injury directly and immediately to Kamaji.

He arrives in the infirmary before the medic has even finished wrapping her ankle. Sara can't even rise to acknowledge his presence properly, only straighten her back, stiffening against the urge to wince when that grinds her injured wing against the back of the chair.

"The operation was a success," she tells him, keeping her voice level even as the medic pulls the bandage tight. "We've captured the entire gang. Their leader is undergoing interrogation now."

"I'm glad to hear it," Kamaji says. "Are you all right? The Doushin told me your wing... it doesn't look good."

Sara looks straight ahead, poised to give her report as best she can. "I trained inadequately for the conditions in the field, and overestimated my ability to handle them. I will have to temporarily remove myself from field operations. That will make the Tenryou Commission's situation more difficult if any complicated matters come up, and I apologize. However, I am still fit to coordinate the Doushin's administrative affairs and handle concerns within the city."

"You can delegate the physical work to your subordinates until you recover. This is a good opportunity to season some of our new officers. If anything serious arises, I *am* the Provisional Clan Head, and willing to take personal responsibility."

Which is in theory his duty--but Sara is accustomed to being Takayuki's right hand, the reason he didn't *have* to handle what he assigned her to personally, even if she had once or twice failed him in that role. She doesn't let herself think, sitting here directly in front of him, that Kamaji also lacks the experience to handle very serious Doushin affairs on his own, but certain conversations with Masahito do impinge vaguely upon her dismay. What matters is not his capability, but her responsibility to manage this department of the Commission, and that he currently considers her unable to do so.

"It will be useful for determining which officers are ready for more advanced duties," Sara agrees. It isn't her place to argue, especially with the results of her own failures. The medic has moved to her wing, prodding at it cautiously, and Sara grits her teeth against a stab of pain.

Kamaji smiles at her. Then he looks at the medic at work, and his smile fades. "How bad is it?"

"I'm not sure, Lord Kujou," the man says. "I've never treated a tengu's wing before. I think I can splint it, but I don't know how well it will heal."

"I don't see how it would be any different from my ankle," Sara says. "I have broken bones before. So long as it's properly aligned and held straight, I've always healed well."

---

The ankle heals faster. Sara is on her feet again within three weeks, though the medics are firm about limiting how much she walks about, and free of their restrictions in six. Her wing, though, lags behind.

It hurts at every slight bump against the back of a chair or a too-close wall, hurts jagged and sharp the first time she grasps a would-be escapee from an unwary Doushin by the arm and he turns and strikes her, and burns bitter and aching if she sits or stands for too long without finding something on which to prop the unwieldy limb up. The medics attempt a frame of bamboo that leaves it stuck awkwardly out; Sara has to discard that after a day of turning sideways to pass through doorways and feeling a fool in front of her men. At no point do they feel it's knit enough to abandon the splint and exercise it again.

A few days after that she's summoned to the Almighty Shogun's presence regarding some aspects of the palace's security. She can feel the Shogun's eyes on her splinted wing, impossible to fold completely against her back, for much of the discussion. Fortunately, the Shogun doesn't force her to recount her mistakes and explain her condition.

Instead, the next day Kamaji summons her to his office and opens with, "I received a message from Her Excellency yesterday regarding your wing." The mortification is so immediate that Sara almost doesn't hear him continue, "Once I explained everything, she arranged for help from Guuji Yae."

That explains the shrine maiden standing in the corner--not one of the bright-eyed young women or sweetly maternal figures who serve the public, but a grey-haired old woman with a lined face and keen eyes. She steps forward before Sara is able to suggest any place private for this examination and begins examining Sara's wing.

"They call this a splint," the woman mutters, and begins to undo it, her gnarled hands steady and sure.

As this was the Shogun's will, Sara simply extends her wing as far as she can when instructed and stands impassive as the woman pokes and prods at it, much more confident than the medics but no more gentle. Kamaji watches with unaccountable anxiety. His expression makes Sara have to breathe deep to quell some of her own. She has no idea what results the Shogun may wish from this examination, nor what instructions she may have given Kamaji regarding Sara's disposition if it does not go well.

Grasping the outer edges of Sara's wing, the woman flexes the joint to its fullest extension, pushing it so far past the point of comfort that Sara can't hold back a gasp as strained and swollen muscles complain. Then she folds it in to the same extent, almost as tightly as Sara has ever pinned them to her back. It can't quite make the full pivot in either direction.

"It never healed properly the last time," the woman says, waspishly. "Breaking it again has only made it worse. Did he have someone with a Vision heal it? I told him it should heal on its own."

"Heal what?" Sara asks, and at the same time Kamaji draws a breath in and says, "He did have a military medic with a healing Vision treat her. He said he didn't have time to wait for her to lie in bed."

The question's context falls into place. Sara knows she had needed tending, and healing, after her fall as a child, even with the Almighty Shogun's blessing to keep her alive. The haze of pain she'd been in afterwards had seemed to wrack every part of her, inspecific, but yes, she well could have broken a wing, plummeting from the air like that. Furthermore, she does recall the healer who tended her after she was brought to the Kujou stronghold, a man whose Vision's power had seemed another blessing on top of the one the Shogun had already given her.

"Not if they weren't used to hollow bones. They over-thickened it and impinged on the joint. And the way it's mending--have you been skimping on your grit?"

"My... grit?" Sara dislikes being so on the back foot in this conversation.

"Powder, sand, whatever you call it. Your mineral supplement. Don't tell me he listened to Mirei and you've been drinking *milk* all this time. I don't want to think about what that could do to your digestion."

"I don't have a mineral supplement."

The woman's grimace of disgust falls away a little too quickly to have been anything but performative, especially given the look that follows. Sara has seen medics giving dire news before. "That does explain why this isn't healing. And shattered into so many fragments, at that. Tengu are just like ravens in this respect. If they don't get enough grit in their diet, their bones go brittle. *Especially* the wings."

"Ah." Sara feels the air go out of her, and makes herself draw it back in. "What is the supplement composed of? I'll begin adding it to my diet immediately."

"Ground eggshells, or fish bones, or snail shells. But that's not going to fix this. It's started setting wrong, and it was already so fragmented that breaking it and resetting it would be a fool's errand. You needed to have been eating your grit the whole time to hope that this could be mended now, especially with that earlier break."

"Are you saying that it won't heal?" Kamaji asks, sounding agonized. Sara wonders again what instructions the Shogun may have given him.

"Not properly. Not such that she'll be much of a flier ever after."

Sara holds herself very still against the wave of despair. She is a competent warrior and an able servant of the shogun without her wings; she's served in that way her entire adult life. There should be no import to being told that she must continue to do so. Even if the issues with the joint preclude a tengu's proper flight, perhaps she can glide, or a glider can be adapted to her, so she can continue to assist the Doushin as Kamaji wishes. Even if the Almighty Shogun desires her wings mended... surely Sara's service has been sufficiently loyal that the Shogun will not reject her for this alone. Even if that disastrous flight had begun full of joy, the satisfaction in carrying out her duties should eclipse this strange sense of loss at something she had for years voluntarily put aside.

The woman seems to sense something in her stillness, though Sara knows she's kept her feelings off her face. "Honestly, I'm surprised this hasn't happened well before this, the number of battles you've been in."

"I've never flown in battle," Sara corrects her, voice flat. "This was the first time I've attempted to fly in the field."

"Why," the woman asks, looking at her in disbelief, "would a *tengu warrior* stay grounded?"

Sara holds her tongue, because she knows the answer. She knows it, and yet to say it would be to disparage Takayuki--to suggest that he had forbidden her to fly, when he never had, when he had never said a word on the subject one way or the other. He had only frowned.

He had only impatiently had her healed in a way this woman, familiar with ravens' wings and apparently with tengu's, had advised against. He had only disregarded the same woman's instructions on her diet, knowing that it would be to her detriment should she attempt to take to the air. He had only put her in a position that destined her, when she did try to take wing, to inevitably fall back to the ground.

"We'll find a solution to this," Kamaji says, determined in that way Sara has always admired, as if she, too, would be cause to challenge the Almighty Shogun if he had to. The words barely register as what Sara had always thought her understanding of the situation shifts once again.

Takayuki has never had to tell Sara she isn't permitted to fly. He's built that limitation into her very bones.

[ghost-bxrd]

Ngl I'm lowkey intrigued by the idea of Jason being considered an actual "Al Ghul Prince" (even if Damian is still the Al Ghul heir) and what kind of drama that could entail in your fic XD

A…. lot. Honestly at this point “What you’re longing for” is more of a soap opera than anything lmao.

I’m not sure if it’s gonna fit into the fic yet, most likely it will stay heavily implied, but if the Bats do end up finding out about Jason’s status as, well, royalty in a way, Bruce is sure to get some more gray hairs lmao.

Jason for his part… mostly doesn’t realize what it means to be so thoroughly incorporated into the al Ghul family. He just thinks he’s finally lucked out on a family that would (and has already) killed for him. He remains largely oblivious to all the deference the regular league members show him now and thinks it’s due to his rank as a general.

(He is also not aware of the couple Shadows that Talia and Ra’s have tailing him at all times in case he ever gets in over his head with a bust, but that’s neither here nor there.)

[celestie0]

when ppl get too caught up in the accuracy of situations in fanfiction or if things are super realistic or as they should/would be in real life etc etc im like. my tumblr user in christ. it's fanfiction.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

[Previous post for October 30th] [First post for October 30th]

He finally manages to hunt down the error Kirijo had pointed out and wrangle the equation into submission. Which means he can– for now at least– put math behind him, where it belongs.

He pushes the worksheets towards Kirijo and rolls out his wrists and shoulders while she shuffles them into order and tucks them neatly away. She immediately produces a new stack of paper, flourishing a little like she’s doing some kind of magic trick. And hell, maybe she is– he’s got no idea how she never seems to run out of fresh work to throw at him.

Shinjiro can only sigh in defeat. He did ask for this, after all.

Okay, so not nearly as bad as it could be. That might explain her little burst of showmanship, actually, if she’s presenting him with something that might have a chance to be interesting.

He’s joking, mostly, but Kirijo sighs with real disappointment.

He takes the packet from her and starts to read– it’s mostly about the political pissing contests of various Roman emperors. Not as exciting as he’d hoped; he’s always been interested in what regular people were up to more than anyone who lived in a palace, but he’ll definitely still take it over math. 

As he gets to work, Shinjiro finds himself dwelling on how nice it is, having their verbal fencing matches again. 

Back when S.E.E.S had been brand new, he’d found it incredibly annoying how Kirijo always seemed to have a prim and witty response to anything he might say. He'd thought at first that she just couldn’t stand for anyone else to get the last word, then that she couldn’t stand to let him, specifically, have it. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long amount of time to clue in to the fact that that was just how she played. Sure, he and Aki bickered for fun more than a little often, but usually as more of a lead-up to a good, hands-on scrap. For Kirijo, though, trading banter back and forth was the whole entire game.

Once he’d figured out that he was supposed to play along, chasing after the upper hand in a conversation became fun instead of frustrating. Knowing that it was always a toss-up whether his teasing would get deftly parried or if he could manage to land the hit and fluster her enough to disrupt her pristine image– it was all part of the game to him. 

He’d tried not to let himself settle into that rhythm again when he’d come back to the dorms, and he’d done an even worse job of it than he had of avoiding his other old habits. Kirijo’s just too good at pushing his buttons, just like Aki. 

But now– Now that he doesn’t feel the need to keep himself at arm’s length anymore, falling right back into step is the easiest damn thing in the world. He doesn’t even need to think about it.

It feels good to have this back. Living his life, whatever’s left of it, means building connections and rebuilding the ones he had purposefully bulldozed before. He’s lucky Kirijo is even giving him a second chance at friendship at all, so he’s not about to waste it. 

There’s absolutely no way he’ll ever say that out loud, though. Especially not to her. 

“Given you’re reading about Rome, that reminds me.” Her voice is a little too light and airy. Someone who hadn’t been on the scheming end of that tone before might have missed it, but Shinjiro can tell right away that she’s trying to get something out of him. 

“Akihiko mentioned that you found his second awakening to be quite amusing,” she continues.

“Yeah, Aki didn’t get it,” he snorts, unable to help himself. “Bet you did, though.”

“There is a certain irony present, yes.” The face she puts on is demure, but the way she flicks a little of her hair over her shoulder looks suspiciously like preening to him. He has to squash down a smile. “You could have filled him in yourself, you know.”

“Sure. But where’d the fun in that be?” The grin he was fighting off wins and Kirijo lowers herself enough to roll her eyes at him in response.

“Yamagishi’s new Persona is Roman as well,” she tries again, casting another line. “Juno.” When he laughs, she frowns at him, apparently not a fan of his reaction. “What’s so funny, Aragaki?”

“Nothin’ at Yamagishi’s expense,” he says. “I just wouldn’t’ve guessed that for her. The whole ‘queen of the gods’ thing would’ve made me think of you, actually.”

Kirijo clears her throat a bit and pointedly does not preen again, just like how he does not feel stupidly pleased with himself over the reaction that she definitely didn’t have.

“Guess it does make sense though," he continues. "If you think about the whole ‘eyes of Argus’ thing. She have peacock feathers?”

“After a fashion, yes.” Kirijo purses her lips thoughtfully. “They are… somewhat abstracted.”

“Well yeah. Almost wouldn’t be a Persona if it didn’t get a little weird with the details, right?”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” She flashes another short-lived smile and then goes back to looking thoughtful. He can practically hear gears turning as she weighs whether or not to make another attempt. “Amada’s was something of a surprise. She's called Kala-Nemi.”

He wracks his brain and comes up empty. “Don’t recognize that one. Doesn’t sound like a Roman name, though.”

“I was unfamiliar as well. And you’re correct– she’s from Bronze Age India, from a tradition that predates Hinduism. It took quite a bit of effort to find any information about her, actually. She shares her name with two other male figures from Hindu texts, and references to them are far more plentiful. From what I understand, though, she was a spirit associated with the Wheel of Time and the changing of the seasons. 

“As a Persona, she excels in healing and protection magic. The new Theurgy Amada gained from awakening to her is– it’s extraordinary.” The way Kirijo says the word makes it clear that it’s a gigantic understatement.

Healing and protection, huh? 

“That’s better for him,” Shinjiro says softly. The image of Amada from the other day, hunkered in on himself with guilt and nerves, is still fresh in his mind.

“It is,” Kirijo murmurs. She’s silent for another few seconds, clearly hoping that he’ll take his cue at last. 

And sure, he could talk about his new Persona, like she’s been nudging him to. He could also speculate about whether he’s got his own new Theurgy. But what would be the point? The next full moon is just four days away, and then none of it is going to matter anymore.

Kirijo sighs, accepting defeat. “Pardon me for distracting you from your reading. I’ll let you get back to it.”

“No worries.” He means it, too. Kirijo might push, but unlike Aki, she does know when to call it quits.

It’s yet another thing Shinjiro appreciates about her.

[jakes3resin]

I have no excuse for this other than pretty blonde boy with pretty nails is a great image for Bucky in my head.