#universe-friday excerpts

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #2:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[...]

Anyway… God. Sorry for rambling, I never even asked how you are, old sport… who am I kidding? I barely know if I’m making any noise anymore. Why would I expect you to?

You know Leftley Square? I managed to find a free bench there the other day. It was nice to sit there for a while, weirdly enough.

I never dare to look up, though.

It’s starting to scare me more and more recently, how all these students are zombie-like. I swear they all look the same, their faces all blurry messes. Is it my vision going blurry or am I getting sick? Sick and tired of being here, probably. They wander around endlessly with fake smiles on their faces. Are they really that happy to be stuck here? Going to the same lectures over and over again? Are they even learning anything new anymore? I sure am, I’m the one who’s really studying here.

And in my research, I’ve become convinced those backpacks must be super-glued onto their backs. And yet, they don’t seem to complain!

And, as if by magic, the bags disappear - and often, a couple of layers of their clothes too - right when you start to hear those dreadful noises of EDM fill the City. They crawl from bar, to club, to bar, in and out of the same buildings where their lectures were that morning. Oh, but don’t worry, they’ll change back to those lovely lecture halls in the morning.

I’ve never actually… witnessed this for myself. It’s only what I’ve heard from some of my contacts. I typically try to avoid the streets during those hours… when I can, at least.

The music… Well, the bass is not exactly easy to sleep through, and I find myself wandering the different rooftops in the City. You’d be surprised at how many people keep their roof doors unlocked, old sport.

Despite being so far away, I still feel the bass rumbling in my feet. The same music each night… or, at least, they all sound the same to me.

Sometimes, if it’s really bad, I’ll give out from my hiding spot and visit that haunted telephone box on Tomsby Street. The boxes are soundproof, after all. Sure, there might be some ghouls screaming in your ears, but, at this rate, I’d rather it over the constant, awful music outside.

Those ghosts could probably make better music than the ones they play at those bars… and they don’t even have a sense of rhythm… they don’t even have a heartbeat anymore… Do you get it? Hah… I was never the best at jokes. I really am sorry.

I’m getting tired. Can you tell? [Sudden, but distant, noise of a miscellaneous bass-boosted beat begins to play] Shi… Is it really this time again? [Sighs] I’ll check back in with you later, old sport. I’ll tell the ghosts you say ‘hi’… It would be nice to hear someone say hi to me.

[friday-answers]

just an anonymous little writer... who may as well just be aled last himself....

[daughter-of-inklings]

word count: 735 excerpt: general lore

She remembers it was cold. And dark. The deafening silence of eternity loomed around her, over her, threatening to swallow her whole- an extension of herself in this emptiness she was brought into. She was slow to wake and slower to rise from beneath the shroud of night, turning to face this way and that, straining to see an end to herself. This was, after all, the whole of her form…right? Infinite, dark, cold, and… Alone, no matter where she looked.

She wandered aimlessly for a time, unsure of where to go. In the same directions she’d started in, she supposed, until she grew bored and turned another. Hoping to find any semblance of something unlike herself. She drew her arms around her form- not infinite, then- more to feel and remember where she ended, and the void began than for any warmth. There were no others here; no other creatures, or strange beings, or emotions, or anything beyond the never-ending emptiness she’d been born into.

Time didn’t pass, as it yet to have means to, and so she continued to wander about in all directions until her feet ached. She didn’t know parts of her could ache, nor anything else about herself other than she was the only one of herself here. She sat herself on the ground, looking at the golden flecks formed like flower petals along her arms, thinking that it’d be nice to have another there with her. She found that though her mouth could move to wish it so, no sounds came out. Or perhaps they did, and the darkness had simply swallowed them as it had all else that came before.

The feathered tips of the petals’ edges grazed the tips of her fingers, drawing her attention. They shimmered and shone a bright color reminiscent of a lover’s sunset against the unruly night of her hands, which tried to devour them whole. She plucked one, brow furrowed at the small sting it caused, letting the iridescent golden blood flow as it pleased. Where it stained all that it touched, small buds began to grow, maturing into more flower-scales that spread further and further along her sides.

The petal gave, yielding to her fingertips as she smoothed, curved, carved, and pushed into it, plucking more and more petal-scales from herself until gold flowed freely down her sides and back. Another being, one made in her likeness, held her gaze as she withdrew, hands smeared honey grazing the statue’s waist. Two arms and two legs, a high cheeked and set skeletal face covered by a mask of the same golden scale, with four pointed ends adorned by chains, and two sets of eyes with which to see through to the end of all that there had been, was, and would ever be.

She stepped back and admired her company’s likeness, finding a certain lightheadedness in it, as if the air had been taken from her lungs. A sensation, not all together unpleasant, began to settle at the pit of her stomach, of someone finding what they hadn’t yet known they lost. Her fingertips lightly grazed the sculpture’s lips, trembling, afraid that she’d ruin them with a harsher touch. Where her fingers touched the statue’s lips yielded, fitting to the small nearly invisible grooves along them, giving them a textured look and feel. With her free hand she mirrored the motion on her own lips, feeling the same softness along them. She marbled at the sensation, gaze lingering over the beauty of the figure’s form.

Without thinking she closed the distance between them, kissing the figure fully on the leaps; longing for company and wishing her companion would move and be as she was. She pulled back and blinked, surprised, as the figure began to tremble and quiver under her touch, moving all its own to reciprocate the kiss it’d been dealt. Its fingers cupped her cheek, the gold film peeling from them and replacing the cold of their touch with- … warmth?

The film began to fall from the rest of the sculpture, swept away into the darkness as a fine powder that dusted the inky black far away with stars. The being that emerged was bright and warm, and the most beautiful creature she had or would see. They fell into her arms laughing, unused to their legs, bringing with them sound to the world and color to her cheeks.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Science Friday:

Flint Hills rancher Daniel Mushrush estimates that his family has killed maybe 10,000 trees in the past three years.

It’s a start. But many more trees still need to fall for the Mushrushes to save this 15,000 acres of rare tallgrass prairie.

Whenever other work on the property can wait, Daniel and his brother, Chris, don helmets and earplugs, grab their tools and pick up where they left off.

“It’s a lot of old-fashioned chainsaw work,” Daniel Mushrush said. “Walking rocky ridges and cutting down trees.”

The Mushrush family is beating back a juggernaut unleashed by humans — a Green Glacier of trees and shrubs grinding slowly across the Great Plains and burying some of the most threatened habitat on the planet.

This blanket of shrublands and dense juniper woods gobbling up grassland leads to wildfires with towering flames that dwarf those generated in prairie fires.

It also eats into ranchers’ livelihoods. It smothers habitat for grassland birds, prairie fish and other critters that evolved for a world that’s disappearing. It dries up streams and creeks. New research even finds that, across much of the Great Plains, the advent of trees actually makes climate change worse.

Now a federal initiative equips landowners like Mushrush with the latest science and strategies for saving rangeland, and money to help with the work.

Satellite imagery and a better understanding of how trees and shrubs spread could help landowners replace a losing game of whack-a-mole with a more systematic course.

Mushrush calls the approach, promoted by the Natural Resources Conservation Service’s Great Plains Grassland Initiative with guidance from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, a morale builder.

“It works,” the third-generation rancher said. “We’re still overwhelmed with how to do this on 15,000 acres — but we have a plan.”

Each time he thinks about the Manhattan area, which is much more infested with juniper woods and seas of sumac, wild plum and dogwood thickets, he feels the threat creeping toward his home in Chase County.

“If a coral reef is worth saving, if some pristine mountain stream is worth saving, then so are the Flint Hills,” he said. “It’s not easy work, but it’s worthy work.”

[rearranged-fanfic]

New Story Out!

*Waves* Hello! It's been a while since I interacted with the fandom. The AO3 curse got me bad. Sorry, guys!

Anyway, I'm back for the moment. And I bring you a smutty two-shot of Merman!Satoru in apology. Hopefully, I'll be releasing Part Two by this Friday. REARRANGED is still taking a bit because Nanamin is decidedly hard to write, especially because I've been in a slump.

Anyway, it's super late where I am. I'll respond to all the messages and comments on here that I've been neglecting tomorrow morning! Sorry for ghosting you all! I missed you 🥰

In other news, I now have 84 messages on AO3 that I also need to respond to. Oops.

:.:

New Story

Seaside

Rating: E, Very E

Warnings: None

Summary: Will you let me keep you forever? When Reader-chan returns to her seaside hometown for the summer, she catches the eye of a mysterious suitor. Of course, she's not aware that she even has a suitor, let alone one as unusual as this.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Merman Gojo Satoru, Human Reader, Mystery, Horror Lite, Romance, Interspecies Romance, Human/Monster Romance, Courting Rituals, Misunderstandings, Explicit Sexual Content, Nonhuman Genitalia, Cervical Penetration, Happy Ending

*Excerpts from the story (Spoilers, duh)*

Excerpt 1:

The long reach of the dock is less intimidating than it’d been when I was a child.  It’d once felt like it stretched a mile into the sea.  Now, it’s just a short walk until I reach the end.  Shuffling off my sandals and rubbing my sore heels, I plonk down at the very edge.  The coolness of the water caresses the red-hot soles of my feet.  My sterling silver ankle bracelets reflect the light of the sun like fish scales. It’d been a bad idea to wear new shoes, I admonish myself. I kick out absentmindedly, sending ripples of water out to sea.  The ocean is calm right now, but I know that it can get rough.  I sigh and tilt my head back, basking in the midday sun.  I’d jump in to cool off, if I didn’t know any better. The water around the village isn’t good for swimming.  The surf and spray are rough at the best of time.  It’s good for sports and the like, but human bodies are too likely to get tossed around or pulled out to sea in a riptide. The cove that my little home rests on is one of the more dangerous areas, with the tidal pools that have formed here creating all manner of crazy currents when the tide changes.  I’d been scared away from taking a dip here time and time again when I was just a kid. Now, I know better.  Only my feet in the water, or Dad will claw himself out of his grave just to berate me. It’s so quiet out here, with only the waves to keep me company.  I let out a low hum—a song from very, very far in the past.  It’s what Mom used to sing to my sister and I when we were small.  I only remember parts of the words now, but the tune is forever ingrained into my soul. Then another sound joins my lament: a low, haunting wail. “A dolphin?” I ask under my breath.  Whatever it is, it sounds close.  Or it’s very, very loud. And as its beautiful cry dies off, I sing back to it a little louder.

Excerpt 2:

It feels hazy—like experiencing everything through a gaussian blur.  I can’t quite focus on any one thing.  It’s too hard to lift my heavy body.  Sleep paralysis, I think. This must be a dream.   It has to be. Then there’s a smooth voice murmuring into my ear.  The vibrations almost tingle.  I feel it down to the tips of my toes. It’s a man, I think.  One that I’ve never heard before—that’s a voice I’d recognize no matter what.  It’s so incredibly beautiful. “You didn’t come when I called.  I was worried,” the presence seems to almost be scolding me.  I’d laugh at this weird dream manifestation if I could move. There’s a beat. “You shouldn’t sleep like this, you know; you could drown.  You humans are terrifyingly fragile.”  A chuckle follows the statement, trails off and fades into the sounds of the waves from below. A dream. Just a dream. I sigh, leaning into the sweet touch.  My dreamlike phantom nuzzles at the place where my shoulder and neck meet.  The soft tickling comes again.  It lingers against my chin, leaving moisture in its wake.  Hair, I think.  Wet.  Cold. It’s such a contrast from the heat of my bath that I shiver.

[eretzyisrael]

by Dion J. Pierre

The author, PhD candidate Prahlad Iyengar, continued, “One year into a horrific genocide, it is time for the movement to begin wreaking havoc, or else, as we’ve seen, business will indeed go on as usual … As people of conscience in the world, we have a duty to Palestine and to all the globally oppressed. We have a mandate to exact a cost from the institutions that have contributed to the growth and proliferation of colonialism, racism, and all oppressive systems. We have a duty to escalate for Palestine, and as I hope I’ve argued, the traditional pacifist strategies aren’t working because they are ‘designed into’ the system we fight against.”

In a statement distributed by the CAA, Iyengar accused MIT of weaponizing the disciplinary system to persecute him.

“On Friday, MIT administration informed me that as a result of this article, I have been banned from campus without due process and that I face potential expulsion or suspension,” he said. “These extraordinary actions should concern everyone on campus. My article attempts a historical review of the type of tactics used by protest movements throughout history, from the civil rights movement to the struggle to the fight [sic] against South African Apartheid here on MIT campus.”

MIT has not responded to The Algemeiner‘s inquiry regarding Iyengar’s punishment, but according to excerpts of its letter to Iyengar, the administration told him the article “makes several troubling statements” and could be perceived as “a call for more violent or destructive forms of protest at MIT.” In retaliation, CAA is calling on students to harass David Randall, an associate dean, until he relents and revokes Iyengar’s punishment and Written Revolution‘s temporary suspension.

“On Pacifism” is not the first time that elite college students have endorsed violence in the name of opposing Israel and furthering the Palestinian cause.

In September, during Columbia University’s convocation ceremony, Columbia University Apartheid Divest (CUAD), a group which recently split due to racial tensions between Arabs and non-Arabs, distributed literature calling on students to join the Palestinian terrorist group Hamas’s movement to destroy Israel.

“This booklet is part of a coordinated and intentional effort to uphold the principles of the thawabit and the Palestinian resistance movement overall by transmitting the words of the resistance directly,” said the pamphlet distributed by CUAD, a Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) spinoff, to incoming freshmen. “This material aims to build popular support for the Palestinian war of national liberation, a war which is waged through armed struggle.”

Other sections of the pamphlet were explicitly Islamist, invoking the name of “Allah, the most gracious” and referring to Hamas as the “Islamic Resistance Movement.” Proclaiming, “Glory to Gaza that gave hope to the oppressed, that humiliated the ‘invincible’ Zionist army,” it said its purpose was to build an army of Muslims worldwide.

[radios-universe]

THIS IS THE REALEST THING IVE EVER SEEN!!! LISTEN TO UNIVERSE FRIDAY‼️‼️‼️‼️

WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS REAL LIFE UNIVERSE CITY PODCAST??? LIKE??? HELLO? Y'ALL AIN'T LISTENING

By @universe-friday / @friday-answers

THEY'RE ONE OF US 🙌

@5ducksinatrenchcoat @13callisto @apersononearth011 @toulouse-2 @toulouseradiosilence @touoloser @touloserrrr @pessimistic-book-lover @pessimisticgh0st @eaglethoughts @s0lit4ir3 @thoughtforthedaysolitaire @butimwritingthisat3am @aledradio @last-wil-and-testament @ikinntorispring @tori-spring-is-my-spirit-animal @ak5ana @toulousejanvier @manicallydepressedpsychopath1 @stewpid-soup @actuallyevesrat @bored-boring-and-tired @venusplanetoflove2 @artocelot @teal-robin @sad-trash-pigeon @hyperbolic-havoc @sleepy-vix @8ba1l @papercuts-from-poetry @0ffbeatqueer sorry if any of you don't like tags I just tagged everyone that follows me with an Osemanverse pfp THIS IS IMPORTANT I SWEAR

[bellisima-writes]

Fanfic Friday: WIP Version

I am working on a WIP that is giving me a bit of trouble, and so I thought for Fanfic Friday I would put my tentative description out into the universe to hold me accountable and keep me focused. So here goes!

Title: The Prisoner in Cellblock A

Summary: What if Uriel and Ligur were assigned to Earth instead of Aziraphale and Crowley? What if Adam Young was Adam Dowling? What if, after Hell's victory during Armageddon, Angels were hunted and essentially eradicated from the universe? What if Crowley, Hell's Grand Inquisitor, got a suspicious letter one day from Lord Beelzebub, demanding he come to them immediately for an urgent assignment?

Excerpt: Still eyeing the cells behind Crowley, Eric leaned in closer and whispered, “Hastur found him.”

Crowley shook his head. Eric’s shiftiness was annoying. “Found who?”

“The one who killed Ligur. Crowley, Hastur's finally captured the last Angel.”

[freetobeeyouandme]

Brother's Keeper

Tags: Rated M, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings; Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard; Alternative Universe, Roleswap, Mobster Son!Andrew, while Neil is the Freshman Fox at Kevin's side, meet cute, the M rating is really just for Neil contemplating murder in the first paragraph, Twinyard Shenangians, AU Roulette 2024

Length: 4.8k

Summary:

Flying out to a middle-of-nowhere town in Arizona to watch the goalie Kevin insists on recruiting is probably not the worst thing that had ever kept Neil from the court on a Friday evening. Even if he is skeptical about Kevin's chances to convince the man to sign with them: The rookie acts like he couldn't care less about the game, even though he plays like he might be worth a Class I championship title if he put in some effort. It's an infurating enigma to watch, but it's one Neil will have to figure out if he wants to have any chance at all of leading his Foxes to victory next season. - Or, an Andreil Roleswap AU

Read on Ao3, see whole collection

Excerpt:

Neil Josten spent the airplane ride amusing himself by contemplating ways to kill a man with nothing but a ballpoint pen. The trachea was the obvious target, as were the eyes, but he thought if he aimed it right he might be able to puncture the femoral artery in the thigh and make the man bleed out. Alternatively he liked the challenge of piercing the brain by way of nostril, but that required a combination of force and precision he wasn’t sure he would be able to exercise in a packed airplane with Wymack just two seats down. And besides, they were already down a goalie and a backliner, so no need to add their star striker to the list.

And so it went click-click-click from the seat next to him, interrupting his every attempt to close on the mystery of the Mechanical Turk, and so it continued to go click-click-click while Wymack pretended he was too immersed in considering their potential backliner subs for the millionth time to notice and Neil’s patience frayed to a point not even the most underfunded high school would allow their dingy racquets to reach.

When the netting finally snapped, he snatched the pen from Kevin and reprimanded in French: “You do know that this is your own fault for hinging our season on a man who does not care at all for the game?”

Kevin made the same face he made every time they had talked about the goalie he was dead set on signing. Neil met it with the same blank expression he always made when they had discussed Aaron Minyard.

[universe-friday]

*; ALERT: goblins have found their way into HQ.., do not listen to anything they say (!! ANYTHING !!/)

[universe-friday]

It's here!!! If you love Radio Silence and also even the Sims (and I know you guys MUST) then you'd love this lil short film. The combination of these two things is just so so awesome, I love how this was done, it truly brings the entrapped and watchful lifestyle of Universe City to life.

Original script and voice by me! I just think this is so so neat and I hope you all love it as much as I do :,]

here it is. this is my child this semester. my fave project i've made so far. it means the world to have people watch my work so if you take the time to do so, thank you :)

of course the utmost thanks go to @universe-friday for writing me an original script for this video. you rock.

[friday-answers]

doing my annual radio silence reread has become incredibly useful in terms of universe friday... i'm getting all the lore in check

and i am already finding things i did not remember!!! example: RADIO'S LUNAR BIKE???????

can't believe i could've forgotten something so cool like that. dw i'm making notes and annotating, tabbing everything i didn't remember to make sure details are up to date in universe friday!!!!!!!

[nordleuchten]

I just stumbled upon a letter Lafayette sent to his wife on tumblr and wanted to know more about the context but couldn’t find the original letter. Do you happen to know where this is from?

“…I shall let you know later, to be sure of finding you alone, for I determined and am very much hoping to take you in my arms between eleven and midnight…”

I Don’t know if it is just the style that he wrote or, just a French thing, but it looks like he wanted to show a little love and it’s hilarious 😂

Dear Anon,

this is a letter written by La Fayette to his wife Adrienne on Sunday, January 23, 1785 in Rennes. Here is the full text of the letter. I marked the excerpt you send me in bold.

Rennes, Sunday evening [January 23, 1785] Here I am, very near you, my dear heart, very impatient to arrive, and very happy to feel behind me the distance that has separated us. What crowns all my joy is to learn that my aunt is settled in Paris. I arrived in good health, t and this evening I stopped by Montmorin's intending to leave immediately, but the Estates of Brittany have assembled, and it has been decided that I should make an appearance tomorrow at eleven o'clock, with arrangements too special for me possibly to avoid it. I shall arrive Wednesday evening at Versailles, surely so late that I shall not pay a visit, but since I must meet with the ministers the next day, I would rather sleep there and could pay my court Thursday, so that Friday we could go to dine with my aunt, sup at Mme de Tesse's, and take up our former way of life again. Or rather, if you prefer, we shall go on Thursday after dinner to Paris. Although I shall let you know later, to be sure of finding you alone, I am very much hoping to take you in my arms between eleven and midnight, unless we are detained en route. Give my news to Mme de Tesse, your sisters, and father and mother. I have instructed Le Brun to go to Charlus's, M. de Poix's, and the vicomte's, and I am writing a word to Mme d'Henin and Mme de Simiane, so you see all my friends are forewarned. I am also sending a note to my aunt. Farewell my dear heart, I am very happy. I love you very much, and I am very impatient to tell you so myself. I would very much like our children to come to Versailles. Please give my news also to Mme de Boufflers. It is late, and I want a little sleep.

Idzerda Stanley J. et al., editors, Lafayette in the Age of the American Revolution: Selected Letters and Papers, 1776–1790, Volume 5, January 4, 1782 December 29, 1785, Cornell University Press, 1983, p. 292-293.

As you see, your quote was a little bit taken out of context. This was just La Fayette’s way of saying when he hoped to arrive at home … although I would never put is past La Fayette to have other things in mind. :-)

I hope this helped and you have/had a lovely day!

[havendance]

Help! I was Reborn as Robin's Father!

Chapter 1

ao3

Fandom: Batman

Wordcount: 2400

Summary:

I was just an ordinary university student until I got in a car accident and woke up as Jack Drake! Now I've got to figure out how to be a dad to Robin and also how to survive my inevitable death. I'm sure I'll figure it out. I hope.

Hey, remember that time I mention writing a Jack Drake self-insert isekai fic? Well I wrote the first chapter back in february and then it proceeded to rot in my drafts while I was at school until now. Not sure if I'll continue this, but I do have ideas and this chapter was fun to write. This isn't one of my priorities though.

Excerpt:

It was a Thursday when my life suddenly derailed. Garfield may rail against Mondays, but let me tell you, Thursdays are the really rough ones. On Mondays you can still be optimistic about the week spread out before you. By the time you’ve gotten to Thursday, though, you’re worn out and ready for it to be Friday, only it’s not, so instead you suffer. Also, Thursdays are my long days, so that doesn’t help either.

This particular Thursday was pouring and miserable. I would much rather be curled up in a cozy corner with a warm cup of tea and a good book, but instead I was driving down the freeway before the sun was even up because I had an 8am class I needed to get to. I hated commuting. Sure, it was cheaper than living on campus, but it was an absolute pain, especially in times like this when everyone forgot how to drive. 

I was mentally cursing the US’ lack of public transportation options that meant I had to do my own driving, when suddenly the car in front of me spun out of control. I slammed on my brakes, but with all the rain coming down, I found myself losing control as well. Shit, shit, shit. God, help me—

Suddenly, everything came to an abrupt stop. There was a crash, a flash of pain, and everything went black.

—

My head was fuzzy. There was a… beeping? Some sort of noise in the distance. Was it my alarm? Was I late for school? There was also… a voice? Maybe? I couldn’t make out who was talking or what they were saying.

I was tired. I was really tired. I felt like my body was made of lead. Like I’d used too many blankets and was having one of those dreams where I was trapped and couldn’t move. Opening my eyes sounded like a truly monumental task, and I didn’t want to go to school anyway, so I didn’t and let myself sink back into sleep.

The next time I drifted towards consciousness, it was quieter. There was still that beeping itching away at me, but nothing else. Barely conscious, I felt fuzzy and separate from my body. My hand though—I could feel the barest sensation of another hand in mine. As soon as I had finally put that together, the hand was gone. I wanted it back. Was it my mother’s? I tried to call out to her but I couldn’t speak and soon I fell back asleep.

When I finally managed to wake up, it was bright and I couldn’t see. Eventually though, my eyes adjusted. Mama wasn’t there. I was lying in a hospital bed. I felt tired and weak and could barely move. There was a nurse in the room with me. She brightened when she saw I was awake.

“Mr Drake!” she said. “You’re awake!”

Keep reading on ao3!

[pan-de-queer]

excerpts of the wips to make it easy for y'all to choose:

three words said through a million more

Kara ended the call and turned to grab her suit, instantly freezing at the sight that met her. Memories of the night before started coming back to her at the sight of one Lena Luthor rubbing sleepily at the corner of her eye.

Kara had invited Lena over for a movie night, arguing that it was a Friday and Lena didn't need to go into L-Corp early (or at all) the next day so they could marathon a trilogy before she went home. They'd ordered from Kara's favorite Chinese takeout place and Lena had brought dessert before they'd sat down and watched the Terminator movies, Kara's own pick of the week after her friend had shared how she'd never watched a "robot movie" before. Suffice to say, Lena did not go home.

2. hanahaki au

The first time Lena thought Kara might be able to love her back was when Maggie had arrested her.

While she was used to false accusations and surname-biased condemnation, she was not used to anyone standing up for her.

Lena’s spent her entire life having to fight for herself. From the moment she left Ireland to the day she lost Lex, Lena’s learned the hard way to never rely on anyone but herself.

Even when Kara seemed like she was fishing for answers, she’d stopped all her grilling just to defend Lena’s integrity.

It’s one of the things Lena first learned to appreciate about Kara—how she was willing to set aside tough conversations and disagreements to put their friendship first. To put Lena first.

She’s never had anyone put her first.

3. soulmate au

In the darkness and difficulty of being raised in the Luthor household, there were very few things Lena could rely on.

She had her wits. Her brain was one of the few things she could always trust. It’s why she worked so hard on keeping her thoughts sharp and ready—always waiting for the next problem she’d need to fix or person she’d need to impress (or not disappoint, in Lillian’s case).

She had Lex. Her brother loved her. He was a constant in the ever-changing sea of Lena’s life. She knew that if there was ever a problem she couldn’t solve, Lex would be there to teach her or encourage her to keep trying. She never had to impress Lex because he always reminded her that someday, she could be the best of them.

And when those two things didn’t help, well, she had her soul mark.

The two little promises wrapped comfortingly around her right hip.

Promises of a future where she wasn’t lonely or used. A future with someone who’d stand beside her and protect her from all the darkness being a Luthor has let into her life.

Two promises she swore to return once she finally met her soulmate.

4. ph uni au

Alex called her stupid.

More accurately, she called her a bobong baby bakla. And though Kara argued that she was actually using a great deal of scientific method in her approach, Alex didn't care. All her sister found both amusing and furstrating was the lengths Kara's decided to go through to find her "mystery girl." A woman who wasn't even really a mystery! Kara knew her name was Lena, she was an international student from the USA, her ID showed that she was from DLSU, and she was leaving campus on a Friday. That narrows down her search by quite a bit, thank you very much, Alex! Now, she just needed to put her deduction skills to use and see if she could find her.

bobong baby bakla = stupid baby gay

[universe-friday]

This is true!! A Universe Friday little film project will be dropping guys.

Universe Friday is never truly over until I say it is. Universe Weekend is now commencing. Then it will be Universe WEEK.

Stay tuned for this! Excited to see how it turns out ^_^

by the end of this weekend there will be another installment of my work inspired by Radio Silence!!! with the help of my dearest friend @universe-friday of course