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blkmxrvel · 6 months ago

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Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (28) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

A/N: After 3 long years.... I'm finishing the conversion of this story. You have my rewatching of Supergirl to thank ;). Going back over this story i realized there are a LOT of conversion I missed/messed up so im going to go back over everything and fix it all for good. Enjoy!

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“Stop peeking, everybody’s out there already. You don’t need to worry that your audience is lacking.”

Kara glanced back from the door and grinned at Alex. “Actually, I was looking at two specific members of the audience.” She pointed as subtly as possible, and Alex peered out over her shoulder.

“Who’s a good little baby?” they could hear Maggie saying as she cuddled the tiny girl to her chest. “Who’s a brave baby Maya? You are, yes, you are!”

“Hey, can I have my kid back?”

“In a minute,” Kara and Alex heard her say as she tickled the booties-clad feet of Sam and Lena’s daughter. She giggled and kicked, adorable in pink gingham, all wide brown eyes and with brown hair that Maggie had subtly shaped into a Mohawk.

Born a month early, Maya Penelope Arias had had a rough time at first, but now she was the spoiled apple of her mommies’ eyes. She had Sam’s last name, since Sam had given birth, but Lena was by law given all rights to Maya as her second mother.

“And she got to give her a weird-ass middle name,” Sam had pointed out.

“Sam, dear, you’re going to give her a complex,” Lena had said with a smile, her pinky held in the tight grip of her little girl.

“You’re so precious, you are,” Maggie cooed, looking nothing like the trouble-making, drug-addicted street rat that she had been only a few years earlier.

“Ohhh, boy,” Alex breathed softly, “I can see where this is going.” But she was smiling, and Kara nudged her, grinning.

“Yeah, you’d think she’s precious until she’s using you as a milk machine,” Sam said, but her tone was affectionate as she smoothed down Maya’s hair. “Do you have any idea how awkward it is to kneel in the corner with a baby attached to your boob?”

“She’s still amazing,” Maggie said, pretending to chew on Maya’s fingers now firmly in her mouth, then rolled her eyes at Lena as she extricated the baby’s hand and cleaned it with a wipe. “Aren’t you, monkeyface? Your mommies did a good job.”

“So did the Cryobank,” Sam said, tucking the baby into her arms as Maggie finally relinquished her. “They had a good choice of frozen swimmers.”

“Oh, hey, Brainy donates there!” Maggie exclaimed, and Kara pressed her face to her palm as Lena let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a strangled sob.

“I swear to God if he's my baby’s daddy I’m going to kill you.”

Kara snapped the door shut and shook her head, smiling at Alex and smoothing down the front of her dress where it had gotten wrinkled.

It had been six months.

Six months since Y/N had looked over at her with her heart on her sleeve, fear and longing in those deep hazel eyes that Kara realized she always wanted to be looking at her. Kara smiled, remembering what Y/N had said to her.

“I look at you and home is all I see.”

The tears had rushed to her eyes but Kara controlled herself to speak quietly, firmly.

“If I hadn’t been so interrupted,” she said, the smile still on her lips, “You would have heard me say that all I want is to be with you, in New York.” Her smile grew wider at Y/N’s gasp, and Kara reached out to pull the girl into her arms.

“My little one,” she said, kissing Y/N. “I am so proud of you, even for – especially for interrupting me.” She trailed her thumbs over Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears, and kissed her again. “I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. Everything you are and everything you’ll ever be. I love you.”

Still, she’d insisted on waiting, because as firm as Y/N was in wanting to be claimed, Kara for her part wanted to be sure. Y/N had moved out of Nia’s and into her own small little apartment in town, though she spent more of her time at Kara’s than anywhere else. But it had been amusing for Kara, to watch as Y/N slowly blossomed into her own, decorating the apartment with her personal touches even as she would smile at Kara and cheekily say, “I don’t plan on living here long, you know.”

“I know,” Kara would say with her own soft smile, and press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I know.”

She watched as Y/N grew in confidence with each passing day, going to places by herself or with friends – and that made Kara smile the most, the fact that Y/N had friends. True, they were mostly those in Kara’s own circle, with the exception of Kelly, and she was still exasperated about the fact that Sam seemed to revel in teaching Y/N to push all of Kara’s buttons. But it was good to see Y/N going out and having fun, whether it was to a restaurant or bookstore, or even one of Maggie’s clubs.

At first it made Kara worry, Y/N being out on her own, especially those nights that Y/N chose to spend at her apartment rather than Kara’s house. Those nights, Kara would sleep with her phone clutched tightly in her hand, just in case Y/N needed to call. Was she warm enough? Kara wondered. Had she eaten enough, was she getting enough rest, was her bed as soft as the one she had at Kara’s? But every morning without fail – as per the rules if Y/N wasn’t staying over – the phone would ring at 8 a.m. and Kara would answer it, smiling to hear Y/N’s gentle voice on the other end.

“I slept just fine, Miss Kara, don’t worry.”

And really, it didn’t matter if Y/N wanted to spend 5 out of the 7 nights at her own apartment, or stayed out until 2 in the morning with Maggie, or walked the mall for hours with Kelly – which she didn’t. For Kara, what mattered were the two pieces of paper held with magnets to the refrigerator door. Plain white sheets with pink and purple and green ink and littered with gold stars.

Y/N’s rules. Kara’s rules. The list they had drawn up together, the list that was growing steadily as they experimented, as they learned. Things were being added, scratched off, put into the “maybe” and “no way ever again” columns. It was a slow road, Kara was realizing, and as comfortable as she and Y/N were with each other so far, there still had been a few missteps, one safe word that had resulted in Kara spending the entire night on the couch with Y/N held, safe and sleeping, in her arms.

They hadn’t been fully intimate yet; Y/N had asked to wait until the actual night of the claiming, saying that she wanted it to be more special. But Kara could see past what Y/N said to what she couldn’t give voice to, to the undercurrent of fear and hint of darkness in Y/E/C eyes that should always be bright with happiness. It hurt her, at first, knowing that Y/N was still afraid to give herself fully to Kara, but as always, a quick chat with Lena had been enough to help Kara regain her perspective.

“You’re surprised that she’s scared?” Lena said over her shoulder as she hung yet another picture of herself and Sam on the wall. “After everything she’s been through?”

“Well, no, I just… thought I’d be different,” Kara admitted. “She says I’m not like him, but it’s as if she expects me to be like him in bed.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Lena had said, sitting next to Kara on the couch and brushing her forehead with a kiss. “You know you’re different. She knows you’re different. But this is the last… thing, the last hold he has over her. He owned every part of her, especially her body. She wants you to claim her, but she’s scared to claim that part of herself.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” Kara had muttered, and Lena smiled.

“The act doesn’t matter,” she’d said. “As long as it’s gentle, careful, sweet. What matters is that she knows how much you love her. Concentrate more on the emotion than the physical, and you can’t go wrong.”

As for Kara, her dads had insisted on giving her enough money to get by for the six months until her relationship with Y/N was set, and the rest of their plans could be put into motion. Kara had protested, but she knew her dads still felt some measure of guilt for keeping her away from New York so long, and so Y/N had encouraged her just to take it, especially since it was too dangerous to head off to the city with no money in the bank.

They would fly out to New York for a weekend to find an apartment, then fly back and Kara’s dads would help them pack the essentials for the long drive, and ship the rest later. Kara was excited – and terrified. But a soft touch from Y/N on her cheek, and everything was fine. All her fears vanished, and Kara felt as if, with the young woman by her side, she’d already won a Tony.

“I’m that good?” Y/N had joked when Kara had said that, her tongue stuck out, and Kara had just rolled her eyes, cuddling her brat close on her lap.

“Ready?” Alex said from Kara’s shoulder, and she turned around to rest her head against her chest, the woman wrapping heris arms around her with a smile. They’d repaired their friendship after the trial; in fact now it was stronger than ever, and Kara wouldn’t have even thought twice about having Alex in the front row, along with her other family and friends.

Y/N’s parents weren’t there, which was to be expected since Y/N had steadfastly refused to invite them. Kara had asked, carefully, but Y/N was vehement to the point of tears about not wanting her parents anywhere near herself and Kara. Kelly was there, though, along with the young man Y/N had heard so much about, Mike, and Nia, who had already gone through one pack of tissues and was starting on another.

“Go on,” Alex said quietly, pushing Kara lightly towards the door that led to outside, and the little circle in front of the seats.

“Go claim your girl.”

It was a simple white sheet laid out on the grass, and a lattice arch laced with green leaves and gardenias. Just to the side of the arch was a table draped with a lace cloth, upon which rested two boxes, one smaller, one larger. The larger box held Kara’s gift to Y/N, the smaller, Y/N’s gift to Kara. They were like two children at Christmas in the days leading up to the ceremony, knowing exactly what the gifts would be but not what they would be made of.

Both of them, though, knew the meaning of what was held in those two boxes.

In between the boxes was a single sheet of paper, with two pens on top. The paper was official, with the state seal emblazoned on the upper margin, and the bottom margin held the stiff, black scrawl of the woman officiating the ceremony, Caitlin Snow.

She stood just to Kara’s left, smiling at her, waiting. Two blank lines on the paper also waited, for signatures. Pledges.

Kara took a deep breath and once again smoothed her dress. Light baby blue, and her hair was pulled up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. The day was calm, cool, and the sun had begun to set just off the horizon. It was perfect, made all the more perfect by the trembling girl who shut the door behind her and made her way to the sheet, stopping to stand in front of Kara with a nervous smile.

Kara reached out and took both Y/N’s hands in hers, squeezing them gently as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“All right, little one?” she questioned, and Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushing pink.

“I’m all right, Miss Kara.”

“You’re beautiful,” Kara said, still holding tightly to Y/N’s hands, and it was true. Y/N was wearing a (color) dress that matched her eyes, which were sparkling as she smiled at Kara, the blush still evident on her fact. She was still trembling and Kara squeezed her hands again, taking in the way Y/N’s Y/H/C hair was twisted up in braids, loose tendrils falling around her cheeks and ears.

She was, Kara thought, the prettiest girl she’d ever seen in her life.

And in just a few short moments, Y/N would be completely hers.

“Are we ready to get started?” Ms. Snow asked, and both Kara and Y/N nodded their consent.

“Kara and Y/N,” Ms. Snow began, “have decided to keep this short and sweet, because I’m gathering they’re quite eager to start their life together and enjoy the support of their family and friends here.”

“This isn’t something to be taken lightly,” Ms. Snow continued, a note of warning to her voice that gave her a sudden formidable air in spite of her small frame. “A claim is meant to be for life, two people choosing to live their life together as Dominant and submissive, with all the care and emotion that a relationship like that means.”

Ms. Snow looked to Kara, then to Y/N in turn. “Have each of you decided to pledge yourself to the other, freely and willingly, with no pressure or force from family or friends?”

Kara waited for what felt like years, a lifetime as the days and moments flashed behind her eyes. First steps, first words, first competition at a year old. School and slushies, her dad knelt by a hospital bedside. A ticket to New York, tucked away in a scrapbook, yellowed and crumbling, unused. Work and the society, a brick building at the end of a walk.

A girl with dirty hair. Two slices of apple resting on the arm of a wheelchair.

The world was silent, still, until the wind picked up and trees rustled, and it was in the wind, this gentle wind, that Kara heard the answer that would define her life from this point forward.

Y/N’s voice was calm, resolute.

“Yes.”

“Yes,” was Kara’s return, and she felt Y/N’s hands squeeze hers because she had begun to tremble, and for a brief moment Kara once again realized that there was no shifting of balance, no changing of roles, because the comforter didn’t have to be left uncomforted, there was a control in subservience, and even as she waited to kneel, Y/N was holding Kara up.

“Y/N and Kara have decided to make their own presentations to each other rather than following the usual claiming ceremony,” Ms. Snow said, “And Kara has promised not to use a lot of words.”

Their friends and family laughed; Kara rolled her eyes when Maggie let out a whoop from the front row only to be shushed by Alex.

“Y/N?” Ms. Snow asked gently. “Are you ready?”

Kara saw the subtle intake of breath, felt the trembling return to Y/N’s body, and her impulse, even as Y/N let go of her hands, was to pull the young woman into her arms and whisper comfort into her ears. But she held back, because Y/N was removing the thin bracelet from Kara’s right wrist and handing it to Ms. Snow, exchanging it for the bracelet that had, for the last three days, rested in the small royal blue box.

A pillow now sat at Kara’s feet, waiting for the moment when the collar would be placed around Y/N’s neck. But for now Kara was distracted by the shaking of Y/N’s hands, the fumbling of her fingers around the bracelet, which slipped out of her grasp and tumbled to the sheet on the grass.

“O-oh no,” Y/N said as she knelt down on the pillow and picked up the bracelet, her voice laced with embarrassment and regret. “I messed up, I’m s-sorry…”

Ms. Snow moved to say something, but Kara held up her hand, then reached down and tucked it under Y/N’s chin, stroking the skin with her thumb and lifting the girl’s head so that Y/N was looking up at her. Y/N’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and Kara’s heart melted.

“Easy, little one,” she said. “You’re doing just fine, Y/N. It’s okay, you’re all right.”

Y/N hesitated for a few seconds then took a deep breath and nodded, steadying herself. She stayed kneeling on the pillow as Kara dropped her hand; Y/N looked at the bracelet then raised it to her lips, kissing it before latching it securely to Kara’s left wrist and holding on to Kara’s hand with both of hers.

It was a bird, Kara saw, and she smiled through her tears, marveling at how appropriate it was. A single silver bird in an open circle, held flat against the back of Kara’s wrist with a silver band. Kelly and Sam had gone with Y/N to help her, but she’d picked it out herself, Sam had told Kara, and it gave Kara no small amount of pride that her girl had chosen something specifically for her, something that she would wear for the rest of her life.

Y/N dipped her head and kissed Kara’s hand, nuzzling it as she began to speak.

“I love you, Mistress,” Y/N said, and Kara had to fight back the sob. “You… you know I like drawing birds a lot, and I thought this was the best thing for me to give you. Because when you found me… I was like a wounded bird, you know? Tossed out of the nest and I’d forgotten how to fly. And you… you gave me my wings. But no matter where I go, I promise, Mistress, I’ll always fly back to you.”

She was crying then, openly, barely able to see Y/N but holding on to her hands for dear life, anchoring herself with Y/N’s words. With that one specific word.

Mistress.

“A lot of stuff has happened to me, but it’s in the past now. I want to… let go of my past and start my future. Our future. Together.”

“I know I’ll make mistakes,” Y/N said, once again kissing Kara’s hand. “And I know you will too, even though it’ll be hard for you to admit it, because you hate being wrong.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as Y/N stuck her tongue out. Her little brat, Kara thought. God she loved this woman.

“But I promise that no matter what happens, no matter what mistakes we make, I’ll do my best to fix it. I’m always going to be there for you, I’m always going to try to be your best little one—“

“My only little one,” Kara interrupted with a chuckle, and Y/N smiled.

“Not done talking,” she said, and Kara nodded. “I’m always going to try to be the little one you need, the little one you deserve. Because I love you, Mistress. I love you so much.”

And then as Y/N fell silent, Kara knew all attention had turned to her, and the pink satin box that Caitlin Snow had opened and held out to her.

Y/N had asked for Kara to not to give her anything silver, as it was too reminiscent of the time she’d spent with James. And so the collar was gold; thin, strong links of chain meant to be held together at the ends with a lock, and Y/N smiled seeing it, because the lock was a thick gold star of about an inch, the keyhole in the center. Still tucked in the box was the key, a dainty little antique with an open gold star on the end. She would carry it with her everywhere, Kara knew, and hope that the only time the key would need to unlock Y/N’s collar was when the girl showered.

The lock was unlatched, and so Kara pulled it from the collar and draped the chain around Y/N’s neck, the two ends dangling open over her shoulders. Kara smiled at her reassuringly, seeing Y/N shiver slightly, and she lightly brushed her hand over Y/N’s face.

“I at first thought I would sing to you a song expressing my emotions,” she said, and then grinned. “But for once I decided to save everyone the melodrama and just… tell you.”

“I love you, my little one,” she said, and meant it to the very core of her heart. “This collar has a gold star lock on it because, well… you know gold stars are my thing, but also, you’re my gold star, Y/N. Shining bright and beautiful every time I look at you. And no matter what happens, no matter if you’re obedient or naughty, happy or sad, I promise to always love you. Everything that you’ve been, everything that you are, everything that you will be. For the rest of my life, I love you, Y/N Zor-El-Y/L/N.”

She slipped the lock through the ends of the collar and moved to latch it, but was stopped by Y/N’s hands on hers.

Kara’s heart plummeted. Was Y/N rethinking everything? Had she decided at the last minute that she couldn’t do this, that Kara wasn’t the one, that maybe there would be someone better for her out there? She opened her mouth to say something but for once the words wouldn’t come.

Which was a good thing, because Y/N’s hands folded around hers, their fingers linked awkwardly, and Kara realized with a choked sob that Y/N’s intent was for them to close the lock around her collar together.

It latched with a click, there was light applause from the family – and another whoop from Maggie – and it was done.

Kara Zor-El had claimed Y/N Y/L/N as her own.

Jeremiah appeared at Kara’s side long enough to take the key for safekeeping until the day was over, and then Kara was reaching down and lifting her submissive – her little one, her girl, her Y/N – to her feet.

She wrapped her arms around Y/N and held her close, then tilted back and lightly kissed Y/N’s lips, laughing through her tears.

“I love you,” Kara said again, glancing down at her bracelet, and smiling when she saw Y/N toying with the lock around her neck, an expression of happy wonder on her face.

“This is so beautiful,” she whispered, before kissing Kara again. “I love you, Mistress.”

Kara didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing Y/N say those words to her, and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask Y/N to say them again when Miss Snow interrupted once more.

“Only one thing left to do then,” and Kara nodded, realizing that this was the most important part.

She took Y/N’s hand and turned her to face the table upon which the contract rested. Kara didn’t really care for the term “contract,” but knew that technically the wording couldn’t be changed. “It’s a promise,” she had explained to Y/N. “A promise that I’m going to take care of you to the best of my ability, and that you’ll do the same for me.”

Indeed, the contract laid out Kara and Y/N’s rules in simple, black script, presented coldly, almost medically, with no indication of the emotions and troubles that had led up to that point. But though Kara knew that it was just a piece of paper, and that what really bound Y/N to her was her heart, and the gold star collar around her neck, a part of her still tensed when Y/N hesitated, the pen in her hand poised over the page.

But then Y/N signed with a steady stroke, Kara took a deep breath and did the same, and Caitlin Snow was beaming as she said “Ladies and gentlemen, Kara and Y/N Zor-El-Y/L/N!”

Finally it was time for hugs from everyone, including sloppy kisses from baby Maya and an excited bark from Theo, who looked dapper in the green and white bowtie Kara insisted he wear. The chairs were moved back to make room for tables, the food was brought out and soon it was apparent, as Y/N and Kara shared a slow dance together, that Miss Snow had dipped into the wine and was now walking around telling everyone they’d look much better in green.

Y/N stayed close to her as a few hours went by, and Kara kept her arm firmly around her little one’s waist while they walked around and accepted everyone’s well-wishes. The moon was high in the sky when Kara decided that it was time to excuse herself and Y/N from the festivities. The night wasn’t over yet, and she wanted to be alone with her girl.

“Ready?” she asked Y/N softly, tilting up to brush her lips with a kiss.

She caught the hesitation, the swallow, before Y/N nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

Kara squeezed her hand and turned to her father, who had walked up to her and Y/N and was now offering the key to Y/N’s collar to his daughter.

“Be gentle,” he said in a low voice to Kara as they were standing off to the side. “Be gentle, and be patient, and—“

“No, stop.” Kara held up her hand and made a face. “You are the last person I want to give me tips about anything like that.” She smiled and hugged her father. “I’ve got it, I promise.”

The applause of their family and friends – and yet another whoop from Maggie – echoed in her ears as Kara led Y/N away from them and to her car. She giggled a little when Y/N rushed around to the driver’s side to open her door, only to stand there sheepishly when Kara had to unlock it. Kara pulled her into her arms for a kiss, then got behind the wheel as Y/N took her place next to her.

The young woman stared nervously out the window, and Kara held tight to her hand, as with her other, she steered the car, and her submissive, towards home.

[next]

#kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #supergirl x reader #madi converts #HFMWH #kara zor-el #kara zor-el x reader

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facepalming-since-chernobyl · 2 years ago

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A summary of why CW Supergirl sucks, born from a year of a growing frustration.

A summary of why CW Supergirl sucks, born from a year of growing frustration.

1.Inabilty to take a risk.

The only one they took was making Alex lesbian and Nia the first trans hero story. Then – fucking nothing. Good characters going dark? Not even Kara’s clone aka RedDaughter. Lobotomizer, who you know, murdered Adam, Lex and wanted to lobotomize entire humanity and hurt Kara “every way imaginable”, all of it was portrayed as “not her fault, blinded by feelings, dark place blah blah”, basically it was all Lex and Kara’s fault, no consequences for her character or arc.

There was nothing controversial, or when it was something like that (aka Lena murdering and lobotomizing people) it showed as something not that important, normal stuff, solved in one ep, no biggie, she was sad, ok???

I was also not even ONCE afraid for the main bunch of the characters. I was fucking SURE no one was going to die and yes, only addictions, villains, one ep randoms or secondary characters I didn’t give a shit about, died. That means there was basically no feelings, even during emotional scenes, what made this show super bland and in the end, forgettable.

-Plus, they knew they got the final season, they knew they could have done anything they wanted. And what they did was making Kara taking her glasses off. If this doesn’t fully describe what kind of shit this show was, then I’m Santa.

Basically WASTED POTENTIAL.

2.Degenaration of the main character.

Yep, sorry not sorry, as much as I love Kara and Melissa, who was born to play Supergirl and did everything even with the crappiest of lines, her character, looking at it from the perspective of 6 seasons, SUCKS for a few reasons:

-What made her unique in the comics, was ignored and forgotten in the show. She was made a female clone of Superman, that was treated badly by the writers. She got similar job, attitude, love interests, his villains.

What she didn’t get was satisfying conclusion (sarcasm).

In comics she was the outsider, the person torn between two places, an immigrant remembering her old life and forced to assimilate in a society of some C class planet, a girl with anger issues, bias, the guilt of being a lone survivor, a traumatized young alien. Something she couldn’t share even with her last living relative aka Clark. It all made her fleshed and complex.

But show ignored it, and made her a happy go lucky, fully assimilated perfect usamerican girl in love with humanity, uwu. What is disappointing, even if this Kara still has charm, innocence and potential - it all makes her boring in the end.

-There is no real character development for her after s1 and 2. She started as fresh hero who tried to manage her superhero, private and work life, while working on her biases. And then, dunno, we got Kara dealing with an every ep villain/issue and some other big season bad. How Kara’s as a character changed? She got more confident in her professional life as a reporter (still, a shitty one) and that’s it. All the traumas, bad shit that happened, deaths, problems, issues, lost love etc. I don’t really feel it all has changed her. I don’t even feel she is more mature in s6 than she was at the end of s2. I don’t feel anything that has happened during the whole series, changed her views, opinions, way of life. When her past experiences helped her later? She stays almost the same for the whole fucking SIX YEARS.

-It happened, because there is no real character arcs for her after s2.

In s3 there was the whole Reign aka her nemesis storyline and finding Argo and her mom, but what was the POINT of it? Beside that Kara realized she didn’t want to be krypotnian and didn’t really give a fuck about her mother, friends and people anymore…? And I still didn’t really grasp it, because the show made a shit way to explain why she didn’t feel at Argo as at in home anymore (because Earth was in danger and needed help? Because she couldn’t be Supergirl at Argo? Because…? Uhm?).

The same goes for s4, 5 and 6. What was the reason of Lobotomizer torturing and hurting Kara every way imaginable and Kara calling her a villain, if a few eps later Kara ended on the same place aka being Lena’s bestie without hard feelings, any consequences or fucking anything? What kind of impact Kara being in Phantom Zone made on her? Fucking one ep, where she can cry in Alex’s arms and then, once again, NOTHING.

-The lack of satisfying conclusion (sarcasm again) for Kara. At the end, I have no idea what did she want, what did she dream on, what was her goal, why she couldn’t have it all, while she wanted it years ago and ALL OTHER CHARACTERS GOT IT. Basically, I don’t know why I should be happy for her, why should I root for her, in the end, I feel like I don’t even know her after six years. What is… fucking sad.

3.Heart and soul of the show. My ASS.

There is no Supergirl without Kara. It can survive without any other character, but NOT without her. And because, as I said, her character development/arc SUCK, we have a sucking show. And sorry not sorry if I upset people, but it happened because the show focused too much on other SuperFriends and other characters. Yes, Alex included. Because no, Kara and Alex are not the heart and soul of the show. Kara should have been. And I don’t get the blind, sometimes fanatical love for this relationship. It’s quite obvious it’s one of the most important relationships in the show. Still, a shocker, show would survive without it. Plus, it’s quite funny, how some people ignore the fact (confirmed by canon TWO TIMES) that for Alex more important than Kara was ALWAYS Jeremiah. Even when he was already dead. Fucking hilarious.

Anyway, my point is that even J’onn and his father got more compelling and emotional arc than Kara ever got and friendly reminder SHE GOT HER FUCKING PARENTS BACK. The same goes for Alex and Esme and Kelly. Damned Agent Liberty had a better written arc than Kara. Damn, Nxy had more compelling story arc and character development than Kara in s6. And it’s tragic.

Remind yourself when was the last time you were really invested in Kara’s story?

4.Fuck you, comic books.

I have no idea how people who actually read Supergirl’s comic books and others issues felt while watching. Kara being dumbed down (plus all the shit I have talked about). J’onn depowered. Brainiac being DUMBED DOWN and parody of himself. Mon-El depowered and in s3 cured from his allergy, zombied, bearded and forced into marriage with fucking Imra. Imra with weird powers. Garth who??? Death of Nura Nal (off screen), murdered by Brainiac. Manchester United and Agent Liberty wasted and turned into well, not anything too complex. Maggie – what? Lex – no comments, especially after how he ended.

And unfortunately, I feel that all of the original comic book characters suffered for the additions created by the show, aka Alex, Lena, Nia, Kelly. Like, you can feel they were the producers and writers “babies” and they did everything to made them cool and interesting (what ended with some weird stuff like Lobotomizer being a magical unicorn and Nia got some… weird powers. Whatever).

5.Creators hated this show, you can’t change my mind.

The fact Jessica Gossip Girl and Robert had NO FUCKING idea what to do with Kara or this show after s3 and the AK drama, is obvious. The sad fact is that the writers didn’t know what to do either. I feel like after AK, no one wanted to be associated with this show, the old writers left the show and we got bunch of new-in-the-business-folks who didn’t even care to watch past seasons.

In the end, it was quite obvious that all people involved were done with this show and just wanted out, cast included. And remembering what also the supercorp shippers have done, I can’t really blame them. Still, there was no love for this show in the creators room and it’s sad when you compare it to the shows that was leaded by producers/writers/actors who were fans themselves.

6.The show is already outdated. Focusing on so called modern problems made it forgettable and bland, when you compare it to other shows.

Yes, I talk about the Trump presidential plot in s4. Also, the whole immigration plot were so heavily, cheesy and dumbly handled, made no sense and was something we saw hundreds of times in other fiction (and it was handled 100 times better). Andrea’s alternative reality device that sucked people in it? Any Black Mirror ep about stuff like that was better and more memorable. I already don’t even remember why the device was so deadly. Technology bad? Oh, boy.

Also, I KNOW comic books were always connected to the political stuff, but you can handle it in a good and bad way. Supergirl made it usually cringy.

See how stereotypically they portrayed the president in s4. It was not even bad enough to become funny. The whole Kaznia part was nothing more than a xenophobic, stereotypical approach to Eastern Europe. Remember when J’onn said he keeps his black man appearance because he wanted to be… minority or something? Guess what? He became a black man because HANK HANSHAW WAS A BLACK MAN. There was nothing DEEP in it for fuck’s sake! M’gann? So, a white Martian who… pretends to be a green one and then keeps that, because… you know… there are better and worse Martians. Or something. You know, greens good, white bad and ugly.

Then, they did a good job with Nia’s trans-superhero story. And then, with Kelly, I see what they wanted to show, but it was a bad timing and well, all what she wanted to express was overshadowed by that one, line about Kara not getting what trauma is. The list goes on.

7. Luthors.

Cancer of the show. Sue me.

8.It’s so fucking dumb.

We all know that this show is about an alien who because of fucking sun became superpowered, can fly, wears idiotic suit and can’t be recognized because of glasses. We all get the conception. We get it. We know it’s for kids…

But there is a difference between following the worldbuilding and making shit so fucking dumb you roll your eyes so hard that you see the insides of your skull. The show treats the viewers like IDIOTS who don’t remember a shit that happened previous ep.

The… jewels or whatever it was called, that they tried to gather in s6. Not getting the idea of time travel. J’onn erasing the knowledge of Kara being Supergirl from Alex and like 10 max DEO agents, while all fucking DEO knew that, because Kara was constantly walking around as Kara Danvers in s2 and 3. And J’onn suddenly, out of nowhere refusing to read people’s minds, but being ok with changing people’s minds, but not informing that oopsie doopsie, he can’t change them back? And what was the fucking reason in the end? Writers want to tell me, that’s it more logical to change memories of Alex and TEN other people, than brainwashing ONE colonel??? Like? And the scene when Alex finally remembers, while Kara is dying after the fight with RedDaughter and her way to save her is… putting grass on her? I’m sorry? It was supposed to be emotional but I died from laughter? It was so fucking dumb that it erased cells from my brain??

And don’t even let me start about Kara absorbing WHOLE SUN in 10 minutes because Jesus Fucking Christ people actually died watching this scene. Like, yeah, erasing sun, what bad could happen to Earth without it even for a few days. Like yeah, Kara, a living being ABSORBING FUCKING SUN. In like a few minutes. Do you know how fast the sun rays come from Sun to Earth? Probably you do, SG writers don’t. And then, she just what, farted? And all what she absorbed came back to sun in a second? Uhmmmmmmmmmmmm…

And let’s ignore, like we ignored so many other shit, how many times Kara and other super beings totally forgot they had, ya know, superpowers, because plot needed it.

It’s all so goddamned dumb that is not even funny. And what’s worse, the show is not funny, the jokes are pathetic, it’s like watching your drunken uncle on a family gathering.

9.Contradictions, hypocrisy, blah blah blah

Do you remember how everybody was moaning how Kara is the strongest, the best, the strongest, the most unique, the strongest, the most amazing unicorn in Earth’s history? You could create a drinking game in s2 finale aka taking a shot when you heard something like that, hangover guaranteed.

It’s the whole show’s problem. Exposition and explaining instead of actually showing it in the show. They talk. All the time. Explaining everything. And then you get something contradicting.

Like how Danvers sisters are the best sisters, buddies, blah blah blah. And then we get aggressive Alex pouring her life frustrations on Kara (job, Jeremiah, Esme). And what is funny, we never really did them sitting down and really discussing it, and it’s a show about talking. I mean, of course, they would die for each other without a second of hesitation, but all people talk about are the couch scenes sniff! Sniff!, while happily ignoring the co-dependency problem.

10.Fucking fandom

Let me just say that I have a theory that says if the show is shitty and there is nothing beside the ships you can be excited about, the fandom turns into an utter ocean of crap. And maybe it would have been not that bad, if the fandom hadn’t changed my perspective on some actress and basically made my SG experience a living hell.

If you have anything to add – be my guest ==’

#anti supergirl #my shit

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wucaro · 2 years ago

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top ten bites of 2022

10. 2825 day aged Mole - pujol

On the eve of our last night in Mexico City, Jason and I snagged a last minute (very difficult to get) reservation at the $$$$ restaurant Pujol. We had been laying in bed all day trying to regain our appetite from a bout of food poisoning and spent most of this meal running to the bathroom between courses. Our (hilarious) pain aside, it was a spectacular meal. This mole had been continuously cooking for over seven years and had such a depth of flavor (fermented fruit, chiles, and chocolate). The only reason I have it ranked lower on this list is because it was just a plate of sauce and would’ve tasted better on some chicken.

9. Seafood Beef Stew - Lighthouse Tofu

I usually don’t order Korean stews and opt for a stir fry dish at Korean restaurants, but this stew really changed my mind. The seafood added such a depth of flavor and I loved all the side dishes. Maybe I was biased from not having good Korean food since I moved to DC but I’m still thinking about this meal (and the side of galbi).

8. Fava Bean Dip and Pita Bread - Andros Taverna

This was the starter for my April 4 birthday meal and it set up a spectacular four courses. Andros Taverna puts pretty much all other dip/pita based cuisine to shame (topping Chicago’s Galit and really any Mediterranean restaurant from here to New York). The sauces had incredible flavor (I love dill) and the oven baked pita is some of the fluffiest, most flavorful bread I’ve ever tasted. My grandma used to cook a lot of fava beans in chinese dishes growing up so this dip in particular had something familiar and something new to it.

7. Rolled Lasagna - Ciccio Mio

I won’t deny that this pick might be slightly influenced by the scenery. Ciccio Mio has a stunning interior (highly recommend for date night) and my college roommate + I went right before a night at the ballet. This rolled lasagna is probably influenced by the Don Angie one but it’s much cheaper (at only $24 vs $60) and absolutely mindblowing. It’s a perfectly cooked pasta on the inside, crispy on top, and the sauce is full of basil flavor. Finish with an espresso and pavlova and it’s a perfect Chicago meal.

6. Naem Khao salad - Thip Khao

The only DC meal to make it on this list this year, Thip Khao has been known for this salad for years now. It’s absolutely worth the hype and a perfect combination of textures and flavor. I love the lime, sour pork, and peanuts in this dish. Wrapped in lettuce? Perfection. I’ve honestly never had anything like it and am thankful everyday that I don’t have a nut allergy.

5. suadero tacos with grilled mexican green onions - Tacos Tony

This was the second taco we ate in Mexico City upon landing and it’s convinced me that al pastor tacos aren’t the best ones on the block. This taco was incredibly flavorful but the highlight was a whole sweet mexican green onion that had been grilled on top of the meat juices. It had a perfect char and tasted delicious on top of the taco. I’ve been buying them from the grocery store lately and charring them myself. I really love how traveling introduces you to new ways of cooking your daily meals.

4. any slice of pizza - Jimmy’s Pizza

Everything after this is from Mexico City, but a slice of Jimmy’s Pizza is sneaking in at #4. My old coworker once said that his New York born and raised wife claimed Jimmy’s Pizza was better than any slice she had ever had in New York. That might be sacrilegious to say but this stuff has some secret drug in it. I’ve honestly just never tasted anything quite as addicting. I used to get tacos every Friday night in Chicago as a “end of work week” treat but I switched over to Jimmy’s Pizza after discovering it.

3. pastor con queso taco - Taqueria Los Parados

This was probably the source of our stomach clutching food poisoning. Would I eat it again if I had the chance? Probably. It’s cheese cooked with vegetables, al pastor, and mushrooms topped with the freshest green sauce and pico. Shoutout to Lena for randomly picking this off the menu, we ordered a second round.

2. tuna ceviche - Paramo

Cheers to Jason’s coworker Diego for suggesting this place. There were so many great drinks (one of my favorite sips of sangria ever) and dishes (boar uni taco? yes) but the tuna ceviche really topped my list. It was simple (tuna, cucumbers, avocado and onions on a tostada) but the fresh fish, bright sauce, and crunchy tostada really made it a perfect dish. (apologies for the dark pic)

1. snail ceviche - pujol

And topping the list at #1 is another seafood dish - this time at the famed Pujol (as mentioned in #10). This was the dish that shocked me most in the tasting menu. The snail is incredibly fresh and delicate, I drank all the sauce, and it tasted incredible on a taro chip. If it’s not obvious now, I love contrast in dishes (something with a softer texture + something crunchy, lots of acidity, some fattiness) and this dish executed that perfectly.

honorable mentions: blanco colima’s lemon dessert, pho 75′s pho, chicken milanese torta from la esquina del chilaquiles, steak chilaquiles from el cardinal, every other pujol dish, oyster taco from mi tocaya, the octopus okonomiyaki from gaijin, seolleongtang from han bat.

Best drinks

4. Mexican beer - i don’t remember the name it came in a yellow can but way better than the beer i’ve had before

3. Floral white sangria from Yunnan by Potomac

2. Sangria from Paramo

1. Belle’s punch from Succotash

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coherently-screaming · 4 years ago

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Y’know I relate a lot to Lena Luthor:

-when in charge I could fix 90% of everyone else’s problems

-yet cannot fix my own problems for the life of me

-and deal with the stress of said problems with tiny boxes and *possible* alcoholism

#lena luthor #I stg the only reason I’m not an alcoholic is because it’s a high possibility and my biggest fear #mental illness #addiction #trigger warning

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searidings · 3 years ago

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hi, i just love you and your writing

can i suggest something - you are in love (taylor swift) and supercorp

i cannot listen to that song without going yeah, that's them

(also on ao3 if you prefer)

Five years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, five years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which is as close as Lena's come to happiness since she'd woken up ziptied to a chair in her brother's office. This moment which, despite the fuzzy feeling of her unbrushed teeth and the pungent aroma of burnt toast filling the air, is perfect.

Kara, bed-warm and sleep-heavy, is gazing beseechingly down at the charred remains of a slice of a bread as though if she only pouts hard enough, its edges will un-blacken and its corners will stop smoking.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as Lena rounds the screen separating Kara's bedroom from the rest of the apartment and perches herself on a barstool, tugging her borrowed sleep shorts a little lower down her thighs.

Kara's tone is mournful, her face so forlorn she looks to be one deep breath away from tears. “I wanted breakfast to be perfect, since it's your first time staying over and if it's terrible you might not want to stay again and I, I really want you to stay again, but I don't know why you would since you probably have a private chef waiting for you at home and I can’t even manage toast—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Kara's bottom lip trembles. “It's fine, really. I once set fire to my dorm kitchen trying to boil an egg. And besides,” she winks as blue eyes meet hers. “I like to give my personal chef the weekends off.”

Kara huffs out a relieved chuckle, her face brightening. “Oh, well, in that case,” she grins, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “I'd better feed you up before you go home. Never let it be said that I don't look after you.”

Lena can't help the smile that pulls at her as the warm bright feeling in her chest grows and grows. She tugs the sleeves of Kara's sweatshirt over her hands, fighting the urge to fidget as the blonde orders a frankly obscene amount of food from the brunch place on the corner.

She feels exposed like this, face bare and hair sleep-mussed, unshowered with unbrushed teeth, huddled inside borrowed clothes after the impromptu invitation to stay over when last night's movie marathon ran late. It's a far cry from the regimented composure she fights so hard every day to project, and something in her chest twists anxiously.

Kara is a reporter, after all, and National City really doesn't need any more reasons to hate Lena right now. The darkest corner of her mind – the one which has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come crashing down ever since the whirlwind of Kara's too-good-to-be-true friendship had come blazing into her life – still worries that this may all be an elaborate ruse. A trap, a way to get close to her in order to assess her weaknesses, to bring her down with an inside scoop.

But in their six months of friendship, Kara's never given her any reason to believe she has any kind of ulterior motive. And despite the suspicions and anxieties hammered into her by a lifetime of hurt, Lena knows now that even if this is a trap, she'll take the bait willingly. Especially if it means Kara will keep looking at her like there might just be something in Lena that's worth her time.

"Hey,” the blonde says gently, leaning back against the counter opposite and pinning Lena with a searching look. “You okay? You kind of zoned out on me there.”

Lena jumps, blinking back into herself with a start. “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

The blonde only smiles, flicking on the coffee machine at her elbow. “You sleep okay?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lena answers, fighting to lessen the formality of her tone, to soften the edges her harsh childhood had sharpened into a fortress to keep the world at bay. “Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. I had a great night's sleep.”

"Perhaps the company had something to do with it,” Kara winks as she turns to pull two mugs down from the hooks at her shoulder. Lena thinks back to the smell of Kara's sheets and the soft pulls of her breathing, to the warmth of Kara's ankle against her calf and the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves in the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt in sleep, anchoring them together. She blushes.

Kara only smirks, pouring their drinks and grabbing the milk from the fridge. “Well, the food's all ordered, it should be here soon,” she says over her shoulder, the waterfall of her golden ponytail mesmerising in the bright rays of morning light filtering in through the vaulted windows. “And you don't need to head off in a hurry, unless you have plans—?”

She glances back at Lena, who shakes her head. “Great!” she grins. “’Cause I was thinking, maybe we could check out the botanical gardens, since it's such a nice day? Oh, and there's a new bakery right across the street that I've been dying to try—”

Lena listens to the blonde's excited rambling with an endeared smile plastered to her face, feeling happy and warm and wanted with every fibre of her being. The feeling is new but so welcome she could cry, and Lena wonders – not for the first time – how she ever got so lucky.

Kara's presence in her life is like sugar in her coffee; meant only to sweeten that which has always been bitter.

Lena's always taken her coffee black. Softening the blow was never much her style.

But here, now, perched at Kara's breakfast bar with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug the blonde has brewed to perfection, sunlight streaming in and highlighting the angles and planes of Kara's face, the way she’s smiling at Lena like there's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, she realises her reasoning is twofold.

Sugar isn't just appetising. It's addictive. And now that Lena's had a taste of sweetness, she's hooked.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

Four years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, four years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which may well be one of the lowest of Lena's life. And she's had some doozies.

The two bottles of wine she'd managed to mainline between Sam leaving to orchestrate damage control at L-Corp and Kara arriving and attempting to confiscate her glass have well and truly caught up to her now. She sways heavily on her stool, the room spinning. Tears sting her vision and guilt scorches her throat as she presses a hand over her eyes so she won't have to look at Kara's face anymore.

“Please, just— just, stop believing in me, okay?” she slurs, heart full to shattering with the faces of lead-poisoned children. “I am not worth it.”

She hears Kara sigh, and the room falls silent for a long long time. Lena drops her head fully into her hands, fighting the nausea that's taken root in the pit of her stomach. It could be the booze that's causing it, of course, but it could also be the incessant headlines baying for her blood, the bullet James had taken for her that she'd fully deserved, the curse of her family finally fulfilling itself.

The guilt, the worry, the crushing disappointment of the knowledge that despite her very best efforts, she'll never be anything but a monster— it's too much to feel. It's too much to bear.

So, Lena drinks.

She drains her glass. She pours another. Kara watches, silent and disapproving, fingers twitching against the granite countertop between them.

Lena finishes her glass. Splashes the last dregs of the bottle into it, blood on ice. Still Kara watches, motionless and mute. It's only when Lena's swallowed the last of the red and is lurching unsteadily to her feet to source another that she moves, a hand reaching out to encircle her wrist.

Shame ignites beneath her skin and she pushes Kara away. Snaps at her to go home, to learn to recognise a lost cause when she sees one and just give up already. Kara refuses with a stoic shake of her head, and Lena sighs.

They repeat the same routine three times en route to Sam's wine rack, the blonde shadowing her every step. Each time, Lena wobbles, head fuzzy and room spinning. Each time, Kara steadies her, and Lena flinches from her touch like her palm is a brand, snarls at her to leave, to cut her losses, to just fuck off. Each time, Kara refuses.

She eventually retrieves the wine after a number of unsuccessful attempts but overbalances on her toes, bottle slipping from her grip as she sways dangerously. And then Kara is there, glass bottle caught a split second before it can shatter, a firm arm at her waist that will not be rebuffed.

Lena struggles, shoving and protesting, but this time Kara does not give in. “Enough,” she says quietly, firmly, blue eyes burning a mere inch from Lena's own. “Lena, enough.”

Lena's unsteady legs buckle further and Kara’s basically holding her up now, walking her slowly over to the couch and she shouldn't be this strong, surely, shouldn't be lifting Lena onto the cushions quite this easily. But it's such a minor concern when weighted against the fact that Lena is personally responsible for the hospitalisation of children that her mind brushes over it, forgets it immediately.

"Please go home,” she slurs as the blonde arranges her on the couch, as she stashes the unopened wine far out of reach and sets about finding blankets and pillows in various cupboards. “Please, just— leave me alone.”

“No,” Kara says, almost snaps, glancing back over her shoulder. Partially hidden in the linen cupboard, her face is cast deep in shadow, a splinter of half-concealed truth. “I made you a promise, I gave you my word. I'm your friend, and I will protect you. Always.”

She crosses back to the couch, soft blankets and pillows held out in invitation. When Lena refuses the offering Kara sighs, draping a knitted throw over her anyway and perching on the cushions beside Lena's hip. “I'm not going to leave you, so you might as well stop asking,” she hums, softer now, a hand reaching toward her that Lena no longer possesses the strength or coordination to bat away.

Long fingers make contact with her cheek, with the mussed curls tangling in her eyelashes, and Kara sighs. “You are not your brother,” she murmurs, fingertips grazing Lena's cheekbone, sliding back to thread into the fine hair at her temple. “And you never will be. There's too much light in you to allow for that kind of darkness, so put that fear down, Lena. Let it go. Be free of it.”

Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. “I poisoned children.”

Kara tilts forward and Lena wonders if it's just that her vision has upped its spinning, but then warm lips are pressing against her forehead, soft and delicate as gossamer wings. Kara's mouth moves against her skin, breath damp and sweet and unmistakeably her. “You saved the world.”

Neither one of them moves. When Lena speaks again, the words hit the elegant hollow of Kara's throat. “I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you.”

Kara's lips are still on her forehead. “I don't care.”

Lena feels as if her throat is splitting open, every last fear and hatred and worry and insecurity gushing out of her in an unstoppable stream. “I'm scared.”

“I know.” Kara's lips press once more, and then withdraw. They watch each other in the dim light from the kitchen. Lena's vision is beginning to blur at the edges. Kara's hand is still in her hair.

“You will get through this,” the blonde whispers, so earnest Lena almost manages to believe her. “We'll figure it out. Together.”

Heart in her mouth, tongue sticking behind her teeth, Lena's eyes slide closed.

The sweetness of Kara's words, her gentle touches, seep inside her like honey. She doesn't deserve it but God, she wants it. She wants to be worthy of Kara's faith in her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Kara more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.

And it's telling, she knows, that she's just lost the trust of all of National City, that she has no way of easing those children's suffering and no way to prove that she isn't the cause of it, that she's finally living up to the Luthor name she's been running from ever since she'd learned what it truly meant and yet in this moment, with Kara's hand in her hair and the ghostly imprint of her lips on Lena's skin, none of it seems to matter.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

Three years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, three years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which stands alone as an oasis of calm in the turbulent tumult of the past days, weeks, months of chaos. Lex's escape from custody, Eve Teschmacher's betrayal, James’ shooting, the Harun-El serum, the whole shitty totality of it all has been weighing Lena down like an nth metal chain around her neck.

And Kara, Kara hasn't been around. The one person who has always managed to ease Lena's suffering has deserted her when she needs her the most and it feels like she's been sliced open, cracked in two.

She tells her as much, when Kara at last comes to see her. Tells her she's missed her, tells her she needs her, all but begs her to stay. And what does Kara do? She leaves.

And when she leaves, Lena is gripped by a panic so intense she fears she may never breathe freely again. So terrified is she that Kara is gone for good, that she's forced away the best thing that's ever happened to her, that almost before she knows what's happening she finds herself at Catco with apologies dripping from her own tongue.

Anything to get Kara back. Anything to keep her.

Lena apologises. Kara apologises. Lena cries, and Kara holds her, and tells her that the decision to help her brother when he was dying of cancer doesn't make her the monster she now believes herself to be. And standing on her office balcony with Kara's fingers wrapped around her biceps, with her own tears spotting dark on Kara's blazer, Lena manages to believe her.

When she's collected herself, smoothed away the wetness coursing down her cheeks, she speaks. “I really want to help you with your investigation on Lex.”

Kara's face lights up; Lena's whole world along with it.

“I'd love that,” Kara says, voice quiet and still a little tentative in the wake of their new truce. “But first— would you, um. Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Lena blinks. “Don't you want to get started on the exposé?”

“I do. But—” Kara's face is still painted that earnest shade from earlier, when she'd smoothed her hands over Lena's shoulders and whispered you are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lena feels her cheeks heat up at the memory, at the intensity in the blue eyes still roving her face.

Kara shuffles her feet but her gaze is clear, unwavering. “But you were right. I've spent too much time recently prioritising the wrong things. So, I want to work on this exposé with you, and I want to bring your brother down. But first, I'd really just like to have lunch with my best friend.”

Lena's heart trips in her chest. “I'd like that too.”

So, that's what they do. Kara asks her to wait, which she does, idly tapping out a few emails on her phone. And then the blonde is back, far quicker than should have been possible, with her arms full of takeout bags from the café on the third floor and she's taking Lena by the hand and leading her to Cat Grant's private elevator. She presses the button for the roof and Lena's gaze jumps to her face but Kara only smiles, and squeezes her fingers. “Trust me, it'll be worth it,” she hums, her excitement infectious. “You'll be safe with me.”

And Lena believes her.

That's how she ends up sitting at the edge of Catco's roof on a clean sheet Kara had borrowed from the builders on the second floor, heels kicked off, Kara's red blazer draped around her shoulders. It is worth it, she'll admit; the view from this high is phenomenal. The sun burns bright in a cloudless sky, glinting off the glass-sided skyscrapers of the business district, the glittering waters of the bay beyond.

Kara had picked up Lena's favourite salad, some flatbreads and dips, and they drink kombucha and eat strawberries in the sunshine. They talk and they laugh and they catch up and there's no more fighting, no animosity, no megalomaniac brothers or backstabbing secretaries or worlds needing to be saved. There's only them, she and Kara, and it feels like all she will ever need.

The blonde's hands are braced behind her on the rooftop and she looks happy and carefree as she regales Lena with stories of her upstairs neighbour's antics, and Lena feels the tight knot of tension that had taken up residence in her chest begin to unfurl.

"Hey,” Kara hums, pushing up straighter as Lena licks strawberry juice from her fingertips. The motion brings them closer, their shoulders brushing. “Look up.”

Lena does. High above them, a huge murmuration of starlings whirls and swoops through the air. Thousands of birds move together as one, a vast wave cresting but never breaking against the blue canvass of sky.

“Wow,” Lena gasps, awed.

Against her side, Kara hums. “Yeah.”

They watch the birds for a long moment, captivated by the ceaseless swirling and diving. When Lena at last tears her gaze away from the sky, Kara's eyes rest intently on her face. "Here,” the blonde murmurs, reaching out. The pad of one finger makes feather-light contact with her cheek. Lena's breath catches in her chest.

Kara holds out her finger, proffering the stray eyelash she'd captured with a smile. "Make a wish,” she whispers, her fingertip an inch from Lena's mouth. Her eyes never leave Lena’s.

Lena looks from Kara's face to the eyelash, and back again. From somewhere deep inside her heart, the truth bubbles its way to the surface. “I don't need to.”

Kara smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile, and Lena knows. The stresses and anxieties of their current crisis feel far away here, harmless as birdsong. She's meted out forgiveness, received it in return. For the first time in her adult life Lena has communicated an issue with a loved one and been heard, understood. She has admitted her own mistake without having it spell out the end of her relationship.

Lena smiles back. The weight of the world sublimates into nothing beneath the bliss of a simple picnic in the sun.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

Two years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, two years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which has sapped the both of them to the bone. Another fight, another screaming match, another quick-fire back and forth of accusations and recriminations. Another night of cursing and crying and choking on all the things they never said before this, on all the things they can't now that Kara's secret has detonated in the shrinking space between them like a nuclear bomb.

Another round of bloodshed, and for what?

Lena sags against the arm of the couch, exhausted. Her face is hot, scratchy with salt from the tears still drying on her skin. She's dehydrated, probably, and half hoarse from shouting, tongue blistered with the bitter sting of betrayal.

Across the no man's land of her living room, Kara slumps against the floor-length windows, drops her temple to the cool glass. She's breathing heavily, cheeks wet, posture battered and eyes dark-bruised beneath the force of Lena's wrath. As Lena watches, her eyes slide closed.

It's been three months since Lena found out. Three weeks since Kara found out that Lena had found out.

Every night since, they've done this. Every night, Kara has shown up on her balcony and begged, pleaded, apologised, cajoled, defended, rebuffed, and sobbed. Every night, Lena has unleashed the hollow agony of Kara's deception masquerading as anger in her chest, incinerating the both of them in the fires of her desolation.

She would have expected the wounds to have cauterised by now. To feel some kind of release, the relief of catharsis. Or at least, to have expended some of her fury after all this time.

She hasn't.

They've been at this for three hours already this evening, and gotten nowhere. Kara's skin is pale above that fucking supersuit, face drawn and complexion sallow.

Lena knows how she feels. The singular exhaustion that is her rift with Kara has sapped her in every way imaginable. She can't sleep. She barely eats. She's no longer interested in work, research, friends. There's nothing in her life that isn't tainted by the shadow of the lies her best friend told and kept telling, every day for four years. Lena doesn't know how any amount of screaming and crying is ever going to get them past that.

Across the room, Kara sighs. It might be the saddest sound Lena has ever heard.

“Should we keep doing this?” she asks after an interminable silence, voice rough with tears still building. Her eyes are still closed.

Lena manages, with exorbitant effort, to raise her drooping head. “What?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Kara asks quietly, hunched body sliding a little further down the glass. "The explanations, the fighting?”

Blue eyes blink open. The weight of the sadness in them is unbearable. Lena struggles to find it within herself to care.

“Lying to you about who I am is the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and if it will make even one single shred of difference I will apologise to you every day for as long as I live,” Kara says into the aching chasm between them. “But I can't keep doing this. Not if it won't change anything. I can't— I don't want to keep hurting you.”

An hour ago, Lena would have scoffed at a sentiment like that. Would have parried back with some piercingly dry comment about how the blonde should have thought about that before she decided to betray Lena's trust as soundly as she possibly could.

Now, though— now, she's just too tired.

“So, should we keep doing this?” Kara whispers, throat working. “Or— God, Lena. Should we just— should we give up?”

Green eyes meet blue, two shattered hearts haemorrhaging between them. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” Kara's voice is loud, fiercely determined in the face of Lena's hesitant whisper. “God, no. Never. I don't ever want to give up on you, Lena. I don't ever want to give you up.”

Kara straightens then, with a strength Lena cannot imagine mustering herself. Perks of being a superhero, she supposes. Perks of being Kryptonian. The thought stakes another shard of ice through her bleeding heart.

“But I know that I've spent four years calling the shots for both of us by keeping you in the dark,” Kara continues. “I've taken away your agency. I've taken away your choice. I won't do that again.”

She sucks in a deep breath, a little of Supergirl's regality seeping back into the defeated slump of her shoulders. “So, I'm doing what I should have done from the start. I'm being honest with you, and hoping that you'll be honest back. I'm asking what you want.”

Kara's fingers twist anxiously before her, bottom lip bleaching white beneath the nervous pressure of her teeth. “Do you think we should keep doing this? Or do you— fuck.” Her voice cracks, the tears brimming in her eyes once again breaking free. “Do you want to give up?”

Jesus Christ. Lena never knew that the prospect of doing the right thing could hurt so much.

“Fuck,” she mutters as she kneads her knuckles over her closed eyelids, digging in until white lights starburst across her vision. “Fuck, Kara.”

“I know,” the blonde whispers from across the room, brittle and broken. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Lena slows her assault on her own eyelids, pinching thumb and forefinger hard at the bridge of her nose instead. “I want to give up,” she mutters, and in the taut silence between them she hears the blonde gasp, watery and thick.

Lena blinks open her eyes to find Kara's face crumpling, every facet of her seeming to fold in on itself even as she visibly fights to keep herself upright.

Lena sighs, and hates Kara, and hates herself even more. “I want to, but— I can't.” She sucks in a ragged breath, hating the truth that's just fallen from her lips, hating the lies that had necessitated it. Hating everything and everyone and most of all, hating just how much she's hurting. “I can't give this up.”

The tiniest spark of hope flares to life in Kara's eyes. Lena hates that she notices, hates that she cares, hates that the sight eases the tight knot of devastation clawing at her ribcage just the tiniest bit.

She also knows that this was inevitable. She knows that, though she hates Kara, though she's nowhere close to forgiving her, though she has no idea how they can rebuild from here or even if she truly wants to try, a question like Kara's could only ever have one answer.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

One year from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, one year from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which is barely even a moment at all. It's more like a dream, warm and faded and fogged in darkness, seconds stolen when sleep should have long since claimed them.

Kara's nightmare had woken them both. In the month since they'd pulled her out of the Phantom Zone, she hadn't slept alone once. Often, she stays with Alex, curling into her sister's side the way she would when they were just kids after one too many late-night horror movies. Once, she stays with Nia, tucked up snug in a borrowed pair of puppy print pyjamas.

Mostly, she stays with Lena. It's natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, the way Kara will show up at her place after a Supergirl save or Lena will let herself into the blonde's apartment after a late night in the lab. They cook dinner and watch Celebrity Masterchef and brush their teeth elbow to elbow at the bathroom sink and when Kara is inevitably tugged screaming and sobbing from her night terrors, the way she presses her face to Lena's neck and her hand over Lena's heart is natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, too.

Kara's racing pulse has calmed a little, her grip on Lena's body beneath her losing some of its urgent desperation. After a long moment of Lena's hand stroking her hair, of gentle reassurances and lips pressed to her temple the blonde pulls back, just enough to rest her head on the pillow facing her.

In the dim light filtering in through the bedroom window Kara's pupils are blown, her face solemn. There's something in her heavy gaze that Lena can't identify; something weighted and potent that prickles goosebumps up the length of her spine.

"Feeling better?” she whispers into the inch of warm air between them, reaching out to tuck a sweat-matted curl reverently behind the blonde's ear.

Kara catches her retreating hand and holds tight, twining their fingers together on the narrow swathe of pillow between them. If either of them were to move so much as a millimetre, their clasped hands would press against their lips.

The blonde nods and sure enough, the soft heat of her mouth brushes the back of Lena's knuckles. She shivers.

Kara is still watching her, the intensity of her gaze causing Lena's heart to thud hard in her throat. She squeezes lightly at the fingers threaded through her own. “What?”

A pause, heavy and sweet as overripe fruit. Kara blinks once, slow. “You're my best friend.”

Lena swallows down a sudden swell of emotion. The blonde nudges closer and when she speaks, the wet seam of her lips catches on the angle of Lena's bent knuckles, painting her skin with the words.

“You're the most important person in the world to me,” Kara whispers, breaths skating fire-flashes across Lena's fingers, voice muffling out past the mouth pressed to her skin. “You know that, right?”

Lena's voice deserts her in the wake of the quiet words. She leans forward instead, presses her lips to Kara's fingertips where they rest against the back of her own hand. It's answer enough.

She hears Kara's breath catch, feels the disruption mirrored in her own chest. Both their mouths are pressed to the joined hands clasped between them. If they were to move their fingers down even just a fraction, there would be nothing separating their lips but a promise, a prayer.

Kara's eyelashes flutter in the semi-darkness. The tip of her nose brushes Lena's own. Neither one of them moves their hands.

They only gaze at one another a long moment, and Lena wonders if the blonde is memorising the planes of her face the way she's memorising Kara's. She could look at her forever, be happy here with her forever, and in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

For the first time, she wonders if she might not be the only one.

Right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking Lena's hand.

It's been three weeks since they'd taken down Lex for the last time. Three weeks since Kara had stormed into the Tower's med bay to cup Lena's bloody, bruised face in her hands; since she'd brushed her thumbs feather-light over Lena's split eyebrow and purpling jaw and growled don't you ever scare me like that again. Three weeks since she'd leaned in and pressed her lips to Lena's.

It's been two weeks and six days since Lena, confined to a gurney but utterly uncaring thanks to the warm Kryptonian curled against her side, had pressed her aching face to Kara's shoulder and first whispered that she loved her. Two weeks and six days since Kara had first said it back.

It's been two weeks and five and a half days since Nia had walked in on Lena in Kara's arms, lips pressed to her neck and hands wandering beneath her sweatshirt, and promptly shrieked the place down. Since their friends had exchanged pointed glances and relieved sighs and congratulated them on finally making it official, their expressions ranging from overjoyed to exasperated to plain exhausted.

It's been two weeks and four days of she and Kara dating; of morning kisses and shared showers and the perfect partner at game night and all of Lena's wildest dreams coming true.

It's been less than a minute since Kara had admitted, hushed and wondering, that she'd known she was in love with Lena ever since she'd found herself suddenly prepared to poison National City's entire water supply rather than let Lena fall. That she hadn't been able to fully it admit it to herself until she'd found herself suddenly prepared to alter the course of all of history in order to get Lena back.

And right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking her hand. She's looking deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice barely rises above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And now that she has, Lena is sure of her answer.

The highlight reel of her relationship with Kara lays itself at Lena's feet, each precious memory between them stretching out like a roadmap of her growing affection, with every hard-won step leading her right to this moment.

And in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love with Kara. Really, she always has been.

#sorry this took approximately 8932018207402 thousand years to materialise #if you've ever sent me a prompt and thought well fuck she's taking so long with this she's clearly forgotten about it i'm just here to say:#nope!#still here #unsure how inspired by the song this actually was in the end #it's either way too close to the lyrics or not close enough #who can say #but anyway yeah. supercorp song #thank your for the prompt and the lovely message! hope you like it #asks #anonymous #ridings writes #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers

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alltimefail-sims · 2 years ago

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I woke up this morning to more asks than I have ever gotten in one sitting, and it was such a cool surprise so thank you guys!!! This was literally so much fun! All asks & answers are below the cut because I didn’t want to spam the dashboard with my long responses haha.

@mangosimoothie these are all some great questions and thank you for that!!

5. Do they have any tattoos? If so what are they and do they have any special meaning?

Zoe doesn’t have any tattoos yet, but she has always wanted one! She just doesn’t know what she’d get and would be like “It’s got to be perfect if it’s going to be on my body forever!” But Erwin has one very minimalist medium-sized sunset tattoo on his right shoulder blade (kind of like this). He got it on his 18th birthday, it was something he and his sister always wanted to get together!

7. Do they have any unusual fears?

I wouldn’t say they’re unusual fears, but Erwin is very scared of small spaces and Zoe is scared of geese because of a bad run-in she had with a goose on the Kindergarten playground lol.

11. Do they have any addictions?

Zoe doesn’t have any addictions! She’s a meticulous person who is very health-conscious and her mom was a great example who showed her how to set healthy boundaries and limits. Erwin on the other hand is a different story! Erwin smokes cigarettes (something he picked up from his older sister Maggie, it really started as a way to feel closer to her after she went missing and has turned into a stress coping mechanism). Plus, he has an unhealthy dependence on caffeine. The man has been known to go through a pot of coffee all on his own, he doesn’t even care about taste. He’s poured energy drinks in coffee before (gross, I know). He just... doesn’t sleep well.

Even though it was definitely a challenge to choose between my pixel children, I think the Top 5 sims I’ve made are:

The whole Carter family, but especially Caleb. He is truly cathartic for me to play and write.

My version of Alexander Goth (really he’s my son, EA can take Alexander Goth from my cold dead hands, they have never done that boy justice!!)

All my Strangerville sims, but Tashia and Junia would be tied for third because I have no other sims like them. They challenge me!

Sha West (I’ll be posting her later, she is from one of my private saves where I’m doing the globetrotter challenge for fun and I loveeee her).

Rin and Lazlo Fite (twins so they count as one lmao. They were originally just submissions for another simblr, but I fell in love with them and their backstory!)

This was even harder!! I follow a LOT of simblrs. But my current top 5 sims from other simblrs are:

The entirety of Gen 3 (Asa, Finn, Casper, Stevie, Elaine, Jada) from Frozen Pines by @softpine. I cannot pick between these babies, they all have my heart equally.

The entire Halabi family, but especially Gus (and Lena) by @sojutrait

Lucas Munch by @gunthermunch

Izara Ali by @acuar-io

Pheebs by @softerhaze

Honorable mention to River and Ro from Inheritance by @cyberth0t! My old ass was around when this was a sims story, but now it’s an awesome webtoon here!!

Lol I love that. Crush away, anon.

2. Do they wear perfume/cologne? If so what scents do they prefer?

Erwin doesn’t wear a cologne really unless he’s going out! But Erwin always smells fresh - like a light, clean ivory soap smell mixed with his laundry detergent and a warm mix of light bergamot, jasmine and lemon. Fresh and pleasantly light is literally the only way I can think to describe it ajajksdjkasjgs sorry hope that makes sense! Although he does smoke cigarettes, he never smells overwhelmingly like smoke (it’s just barely present!).

6. If they were badly injured, and for whatever reason couldn't go to a hospital, who would they go to for help?

Erwin is stubborn and kind of a loner, he would probably patch himself up in most circumstance. But he’d have to have a deep bond with someone to let them see him in pain/vulnerable like that!

16. Do they have or want kids?

He does not have kids! As for wanting kids, he’d say no. But really he just doesn’t think he’ll ever have the opportunity to have kids. He doesn’t dislike the idea at all, but definitely isn’t in a place for kids right now! In the future though? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about that...

29. If they were real would you be friends with them?

Hmmmmm I can’t say for sure. Current Erwin? Probably not, we live very different lives! But future Erwin and I would probably get along very well!

19. How easy is it to become their friend?

It is not easy to gain Junia’s trust in any way lmao. Friend, romantic partner, work associate... doesn’t matter to her. She keeps things pretty distant and professional across the board. But if you break through? Dear God, she will love you and protect you fiercely.

@missjinglecoco thank you for these questions! <3

1. Do they have any crafting hobbies?

Erwin likes to take polaroid photos just for personal enjoyment! I wouldn’t say he scrapbooks, but he likes to do a *version* of that by journaling with polaroids...so scrapbooking without the stickers and fun paper lol. He also runs a podcast about spooky stuff like unsolved mysteries, paranormal stories, and conspiracy theories!

12. Do they have any sense of style? Regardless of the answer do they believe they have a sense of style?

He absolutely has a very quirky sense of style, although he would say he just likes to wear stuff that he likes and isn’t intentionally curating a look. His style is vintage casual with an alternative touch - quirky patters, ripped loose jeans, lots of 70s-80s dad tees you’d find in a Goodwill.

33. Do they play ttrpgs? If so what kind of characters do they play? Or are they more likely to GM?

Yes! He hasn’t played since high school, but he loves Dungeons and Dragons. He typically plays as an elf wizard! He would love to be a DM/GM, but he’s never had the time to come up with and execute a campaign of his own creation.

@chelseasanidiot Oh that’s my baby!!! My favorite!! Thank you for asking about him <3

3. Do they enjoy cooking?

YES! He loves cooking with his mom and his abuela! Cooking is a love language to him, and it’s a way he connects to his culture too. He’s the kind of person that is always offering food and to his friends and loved ones and sees it as a basic act of service - “We’re hanging out at my house, so I should give you a snack - just makes sense!”

4. Do they enjoy baking?

Not as much as cooking, but he does enjoy baking if it’s with Cheryl!

28. Are they a #gamer?

He loves lots of different games, but he would not call himself a #gamer lol. He doesn’t take games so seriously! His sister is much more competitive that him!

Of course! <3

8. Do they collect anything? If so what and why?

She collects snow globes! Whenever she and her mom would go on vacation, she’d get a snow globe from that location as a souvenir.

9. When they're sick what do they do to feel better?

She is very productive, so she just doesn’t have time to lay around sick. She takes healing very serious - strict regiment of herbal teas, vitamin C supplements, rest, vapor rub (still using the same big pot of Vicks that probably is from the 90s), humidifier, soups, keeps a notepad with her medication rotation schedule...the works!

10. Do they have any regrets?

Nope!

42. Can they speak multiple languages? If yes which all do they speak and why?

She isn’t fluent in any languages outside of English. She only remembers a few words/phrases from high school French. She also would recognize a few words or phrases in Arabic from knowing Anwar and his family for so long.

43. Can they handle stressful situations?

Yes, she operates very efficiently under stress (and grief). She needs people to remind her that it’s okay to slow down and just... feel.

44. Who, if anyone, would they trust with their deepest secrets?

Anwar! He’s her closest friend since childhood and she’d trust him with her life. Eventually you guys will see her open up to more than just him though <3

45. Do they plan in advance or just wing it?

Plan in advance always. Just thinking of “winging it” makes her skin break out in hives lmao

#ask game #strangerville outtakes #erwin pries #zoe tate #junia cahill #alexander goth #woah this was SO LONG but we did it!!#You guys are amazing for all these questions thank you #atfs answers #strangerville

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chaotic-super · 2 years ago

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Nightmares Aren't Always Bad

Supercorptober Day 7 - Night

Lena’s never been one to have friendships as intimate as the one she inadvertently created with Kara. Even her friendship with Sam isn’t as intimate and she’s been her best friend for years now. Yet she doesn’t think it’s her relationship with Sam that is the one of the ordinary, it’s that her relationship with Kara is extraordinary.

With Kara, she found herself making more of an effort to involve her into her day to day boring life, it goes beyond the casual meet ups and friendly lunches. They have dinner together at least two nights a week and lunch at least the same amount. Sometimes they even meet up for breakfast if Lena doesn’t have any early meetings planned.

Over the past two years of their friendship, they have just been ramping up the amount of time they spend together, like they are feeding their addiction of being together, spending as much time as they can in the presence of the other woman.

Around a year in, once they gotten into the routine of texting each other, the goodnight messages started to come through. Every night they would send each other a message, usually just a simple ‘goodnight’ but it took less than a month for that to become more. To become ‘sleep well, don’t forget to set your alarm’ or ‘I’m sending goodnight kisses, sleep tight’.

It’s all very gay when they look back at it, especially when the texts became so long that it was easier to have a goodnight phone call instead.

They didn’t even build the call times up, just started talking for at least half an hour at night and usually falling asleep with the other woman on the other end of the phone. The only real conversation they had about their routine was when Kara told Lena that she couldn’t afford to for her phone bill to be so high when they fall asleep without hanging up, so Lena made sure to be the one calling Kara every night.

It provided them both with a level of comfort and protection that neither of them had before, someone to be there when they need it and to make them feel less alone on the dark nights where the wind intensifies every negative thought they have ever had, blackening their souls and ruining their sleep.

It was one of those awful nights that Lena was awoken by a strange noise coming from the pillow beside her, more specifically her phone, the call to Kara still connected.

She can hear whimpers and groans, frantic rustling of sheets through the phone where Kara is clearly tossing and turning. It’s very clear that one of two things is happening. Kara’s either getting off or she’s having a nightmare, either way Lena wants to be there for her.

Her feet were wedged into her shoes and a stolen sweater that was once Kara’s was thrown over her head before she was running down to the parking garage to get into her car, dead set on heading to Kara’s apartment building, completely unsure of what she is going to say when she gets there.

Lena honestly has no recollection of the journey across town, just a vaguely panicked feeling and the overwhelming need to get to Kara as quickly as humanly possible. She just remembers being outside of Kara’s apartment, spare key in hand, trying to fit into the lock with her hands shaking so furiously that she couldn’t get a good grip on it.

She must have managed to get it open though, because she was then heading right across the loft to Kara’s bedroom, only slowing her stride when she was at the foot of Kara’s bed, watching closely as Kara grips onto her sheets so tightly that Lena feared that she would rip them and her eyes screwed shut in fear, terrified noises jumping from the back of her throat.

It set Lena in motion once again, moving toward the bed and placing herself on the edge, her hands coming to rest over Kara’s own, trying to wrestle the sheets free from her fists without causing any damage but also planning on getting Kara some better sheets, they were practically sandpaper compared to Lena’s own.

There was a brief argument in Lena’s head as she tried to decide how to approach this, whether she should wake Kara up or if she should try to calm her down beforehand. In the end she decided on the latter, climbing behind Kara to wrap her arms around the trembling woman, pressing her front to the blonde’s back and holding her as tightly as she can manage.

Her face was pressed to the back of Kara’s neck, her hands still holding Kara’s own. She stayed in that position for the rest of the tight, not daring to move, even when Kara had calmed a relaxed into her arms, pressing back into the warmth Lena was providing.

That night was what caused a new tradition between them. Whenever they had a bad day or thought that there was a chance either of them could get nightmares or struggle during the night, one of them would stay over with the other, usually Kara staying with Lena since her bed is much comfier, even if Lena did buy her a new mattress and sheets.

Then, the bad nights became fewer and fewer, but their sleepovers only increased until they were spending almost every night together, waking up to the other woman in the morning, always thoroughly entwined.

It was what made them finally talk, finally address the fact that their relationship wasn’t platonic and had never truly had been. Neither of them could deny it and at the same time they agreed to officially classify their relationship as a romantic one, they also made the decision to officially move in together, lesbianism at its best…or bisexualism in Kara’s case.

The shocker came when they went to tell their family that they had gotten together and everyone was confused as hell, they all thought they had been together for well over a year at least, and they couldn’t really deny that either, they pretty much had been.

If Kara hadn’t had that nightmare then there is a good chance they would have taken an extra two years before they got their heads in straight – or not straight – so they will always be glad for that night and every night they get to spend together because of it.

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #kara x lena #kara zol el #fanfic #wlw #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #kara zor el #chaoticsuper #supercorptober #supercorptober2022

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pan-de-queer · 2 years ago

Audio

always wanted to do a fic to this song and i just found out that last year i started it??? i don’t even remember writing anything??? and it’s kind of good if a little messy?? anyways here’s the unfinished supercorp fic that i might never finish that’s messily connected somehow and also inspired by this song 💕

edit: youtube link for those who can’t access the song link!

In the months after Leviathan, in the weeks after Lex, Kara did everything she could to avoid crossing paths with Lena.

She wasn’t running, she tells herself. She just needs space.

They both do.

And for the most part, Lena respects that. But every other Thursday, always a little after 11AM, Lena sends her a text.

It’s never anything big or important (another lie Kara chants in her head, knowing she will always find everything Lena tells her important). But it’s constant in a way they haven’t been in a long, long time.

They’re never long or even personal, but Kara secretly looks forward to reading them during her lunch breaks. Reads over the they said it’ll rain later today and the things have been quiet lately and the one time she texted more than one line.

I’m sorry. I’ll get better.

And the worst part—the part that Kara wishes she could bury into nothing—Kara still believes in her.

She believes in the goodness and kindness that she’d seen the second she met her.

But she also believes in the anger they’ve kept. The anger she’s kept.

Lena hurt her. Physically and emotionally.

Lena used her with the intent to hurt. And Rao. It hurt.

The words are on the tip of her tongue when she remember that they’re not in the business of sharing their most sacred thoughts with each other anymore (and Lena has to use all of her willpower to beat back the voice in her head that whispers that Kara had never really shared her sacred secrets with her).

In spite of all the pain she’s caused her—all the pain she’d thrown right back—Kara was still her everything.

Even now, even when she couldn’t even call them anything at all.

In therapy, she had to explain why the revelation had hurt so much. Why her world didn’t just implode at Lex’s revelation.

Kara was the sun that Lena’s world revolved around. She was the only thing that brightened her day, her life, her universe. She was the one addiction she never wanted to stop. She was all the good Lena never had growing up. She was supposed to be her One Good Thing.

And then she wasn’t.

And Lena stopped believing she deserved good things.

#cw supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #my writing #supercorp fic ideas #anyways i could go on a fifty year tangent on how a majority of these lyrics fit these two's s5/6 vibes so much 😭💕#if i had the braincells and resources to write this it'd be a 15k+ angst with a happy ending fic #there will be pain and for once i'll enjoy it 😌#anyways pLEASE LISTEN TO THE SONG I NEED PEOPLE TO SEE WTF I'M SEEING OKAY!!!!#queer bread writes

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lostgrimesgirl · 6 months ago

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I personally think Lena would throw little rocks at Aiden at every given moment she was allowed to do so

#Lena-I’m addicted to the if only

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c-is-writing · 4 years ago

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intimacy

pairing: lena luthor x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1894

warnings: none

a/n: okay ngl i was pretty head empty while writing it so i apologize if this made no absolute sense :’D

original request

It all began with a simple brush against her hand that led to two hands intertwined with each other, swinging back and forth as the two of you walked through a park. The sun was setting, casting a peach light across all surfaces before transitioning into shades of pink and purple until settling into the dark blue of the night. You lean your head on Lena’s shoulder as the two of you continued to walk under the dim lamps scattered along the path. It was almost as if you were the only two people in the whole world. As you absentmindedly hum a tune, Lena could feel the heat rush to her cheeks, painting them red like the sunset sky. The warmth radiating off your body pressed against her side comforted her in a way that she never knew she needed until now. The hand connected to yours suddenly feels burning hot but Lena makes no effort to remove it. There’s no way a Luthor, someone who is meant to be cold and cruel and undeserving of this sort of comfort, could enjoy something like this. Right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong. Ever since that park date, Lena has practically become addicted to your touch. She constantly craves it like a smoker with a cigarette but she has restraint, she has an image to uphold as a Luthor. To her, it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she gives into your touch. Despite the embarrassment, the CEO is willing to do anything to feel your touch on her skin again.

A knock on the office door brings her out of her dilemma as she looks up to meet your bright smile and bag of takeout in your hand. Immediately feeling a warmth bloom in her chest, she returns the smile as you make your way towards her. Placing the bag down on a spot that’s not covered by papers, you finally greet your lover.

“Hey, Lee.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you ready to take a quick lunch break or do you still need to finish some work?”

Glancing at the unfinished document on her screen, Lena shakes her head and says, “I’m more than ready for lunch, I’m starving. Just let me clear off my desk first.”

Giving her an okay, you take the bag to the coffee table and settle down, watching as Lena organizes the files. You reach into the brown bag to pull out the lunch items when you hear a gasp. Your head shoots up to see Lena holding her finger tightly. Rushing over you quickly ask, “Is everything okay? What happened?”

Almost laughing, Lena waves it off as nothing major. “I just got a papercut that’s all.”

“May I take a look at it?”

“Oh, sure, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” Lena says after seeing the concern in your eyes.

She watches as you grab a bandaid from the first aid kit in the office and return to the table. Lena’s heart practically stops as you go to grab the injured hand. The gentle, feather-like grasp on her finger was enough to make her melt on the spot. As you wrap the bandage around the small cut, you press a soft kiss to it before placing her hand back into her lap. At this point, Lena has been reduced to a very flustered and embarrassed mess as her brain scrambles to understand what just happened. You were so gentle and loving with Lena that she could feel your adoration and care for her through your actions. Lena quickly clears her throat to hopefully pause her panicking mind and calm her racing heart.

Noticing how Lena is still sitting in her chair, you take one of her hands and lead her to the couch where the two of you talked and had lunch together. Throughout the conversation and eating, Lena could still feel where you kissed her finger as if she touched a hot stove. Imagine a Luthor being this soft for someone. She can’t enjoy your touch. She’s not allowed to. Or at least, that’s what Lillian kept telling her. Luthors are cruel aren’t they? They are undeserving of love and care, so why should this be any different for Lena? Why does she have to feel so embarrassed about wanting your touch?

Following the papercut incident, Lena found herself exaggerating her headaches and migraines from working constantly at L-Corp just so you could take care of her and cuddle the pain away. This went on for a few weeks and eventually you caught onto what she was trying to do. You realized that early on in the relationship, you always initiated physical contact with Lena and in those moments, she would tense up, making you think that she was uncomfortable with it. Later on, you learned that Lena is trying to get used to receiving so much physical love because it’s still new to her. So, you began to give it to her in small doses whether it was hand holding or pecks on the cheek before you left the apartment. Now, you see that Lena wants more but she’s either too afraid or too embarrassed to ask for it.

Looking down at the CEO that’s currently in your arms, you quietly laugh at the realization and almost find it endearing. You tuck that thought into the back of your mind as you readjust your position on the couch and tighten your hold on Lena. She snuggles a bit deeper into your chest as your focus falls back onto the movie playing on the TV. Maybe, it’s okay to let herself relish your touch as long as you were hers. After all, the Luthor name is simply a name, not a rule for her to follow.

A few days later, you find yourself heading back to your shared apartment where Lena is currently resting. According to Jess, she wasn’t feeling well and decided to take the rest of the day off to ensure that she could recover and work more efficiently tomorrow. It became a normal occurrence for Jess to call you whenever Lena was unwell so that you could take care of her. Upon arriving at the apartment, you find the raven-haired woman curled up in bed. At the sound of the bedroom door opening, she immediately sits up as her eyes light up when they lock with yours. You send her a loving smile as you say, “Lena, I want you to be honest with me.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Lena simply answers, “Okay…”

“Are you actually feeling unwell or is this an excuse to have me take care of you?”

The moment the question leaves your mouth, Lena’s eyes widen. Shit. Unsure of what to do as you watch Lena try to formulate a response, you decide to turn around and head to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner. As you’re about to leave, Lena desperately calls out, “Y/N, wait!”

Pausing, you turn back around and tilt your head, expecting a response. As she slowly begins to speak, Lena breaks eye contact in favor of tracing the patterns of the bedsheets with her eyes.

“I-, um, yeah, it was an excuse and I’m really sorry for disturbing you while you were at work for this.”

Watching as Lena slumps over in shame, you make your way to the bed and sit down next to her. Quietly waiting for her to continue and give you a reason, an awkward silence fills the bedroom. You’re the first to break the silence.

“Lee, you know I love you right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Okay, so then, why? Why did you feel the need to make excuses to get me to come?”

“Well, um…” Lena trails off while continuing to look at the bedsheets, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Babe, if you don’t give me a reason then I’m not giving you any cuddles until you tell me.”

At your words, Lena’s head flies up, exposing her flustered state.

“Wait, no, that’s not fair.” She whines as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

Laughing, you do your best to push her off. With a soft smile, you tell her, “I just want my girlfriend to communicate with me and if I have to revoke cuddling privileges to get you to communicate then I’m going to do it.”

Lena lets out a sigh as she realizes that you’re going to stick to your words and she loves your touch too much to lose it over her slight issue with communicating properly in relationships. Readying herself, she allows the Luthor mindset to slip away from her mind as she opens up to you.

“I really like your touch and I was just afraid of how much I liked it because I wasn’t sure if I deserved it. When I was young, I was always told that Luthors don’t deserve love or care because of our cold nature. But the way you hold me made me melt and I felt tingly all over.” quickly adding in, “In a good way, I promise!”. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “I guess I just felt embarrassed of how strongly I wanted physical contact with you because I wasn’t sure if you would give that much to me. In the back of my mind, I thought that you were giving me all of this physical affection because you felt obligated to and not out of love.”

Taking in her words, your expression begins to soften as you pull Lena into your arms. Your fingers slowly trace random patterns into her back as you begin to speak.

“Oh, Lena, sweetheart. I love you so so much. I’m so sorry that you felt undeserving of this love and attention but I can definitely assure you that you deserve it all and so much more. You are so kind and you are everything that the Luthor name isn’t. You’ve worked so hard at L-Corp and trying to rebrand it as a company for good instead of how it was made before you.” Pulling away, you cup her face in your hands. “I promise that all of the affection that I freely give to you is out of love and not obligation. I will do everything I can to give you all of the love that you deserve. If you ever want cuddles, just ask okay? I’m definitely more than happy to cuddle you whenever you want.”

With your final statement, you seal your promises to Lena with a soft kiss. You pull away from her to see her eyes brimming with tears. She simply nods at your words and you pull her into your chest once again. Lena has never felt so loved in her whole life. You practically radiate love and warmth that she will gladly receive without feeling as embarrassed now. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lena feels lighter now that she was able to open up to you. Before fully settling into your embrace, Lena asks one more question.

“So, does this mean I get my cuddling privileges back?”

Feeling the vibrations in your chest as you laugh, Lena smiles as you reply, “Yes, your cuddling privileges are no longer revoked and you can now ask for them whenever you want. Just promise that you won’t make any more excuses, alright?”

“I promise.”

taglist (all): @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @owloftheshadows

#*mine #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x gn!reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor #supergirl imagine #dc imagine #send help i'm so tired lmao #no thoughts head empty

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pleasereadmeok · 3 years ago

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Matthew scene by scene in season 3

Episode 6 Scene 4 - Stand up and face me!

If you haven’t read these before don’t expect any other character arcs - forget it. Matthew all the way here. AND this is distinctly ‘shallow end’ stuff that is not to be taken too seriously.

SPOILERS if you haven’t seen episode 6! Book spoilers in here as well.

Matthew is sitting quietly looking at Philippe’s watch. Is that a slight smile as we hear that Benjie is back? “It still keeps perfect time.” is his opener. No ‘Hi son - long time no see. Prepare to die.’ Seriously if Matthew is gonna end Benjie - just get it over already and cut the chat!

Benjie looks a bit pleased that Daddy has come to visit. “Father, you’re finally here.” Matthew pokes the bee hive and trashes Benjie’s addiction to ‘cruelty and obscenity.’ Ouch - but probably deserved.

“That you would choose this place” - this was where Philippe was held prisoner. I think Matthew has already figured out that Benjie had a role in Philippe’s torture but his ‘son’ is actually proud of it. “Some of my best work.” Oh oh - Matthew is standing up. 😱 Watch out Benjie you little shit!

Benjie is provoking Matthew - talking about how well he was rewarded by the Nazi’s for the info’ he got from Philippe. Nah! You got NOTHING mate. Philippe fed him false info! Go Phil. 👏

Matthew is really going for it now - the way he says Benjie’s name with absolute disdain is icy cold. Ben - ja -min. He reckons Benjie has a major chip on his shoulder about being “The wronged son.”

“I am exactly what you made me.”

Well actually Matthew - Benjie has a point about that. You turned him into a vamp and let him loose to figure how to deal with it himself. Also - while we are on the subject. So Benjie betrayed your family - wouldn’t it have been easier to punish him by killing him then the problem is solved forever? But Noooooooo - that would have been too easy and far less dramatic!

Matthew regrets that now. Benjie reckons that daddy didn’t have the courage to just kill him outright - instead he destroyed him “One day, one drop of blood at a time.” Oh and of course he passed on his blood rage to Benjie.

Matthew was glad that he did. OK, Matthew - how many innocent humans were killed by Blood Raged Benjie? Did you ever think of that? 🤬 But I forgive him coz of the gratuitous neck shot ... I thank you.

Moving on - Benjie doesn’t reckon that blood rage is a curse -

“It’s a gift. The only thing of worth you gave me.” Matthew doesn’t react to that - instead there is something else he wants to know.

“Tell me, I’m intrigued, why now?” Benjie is obviously a VERY patient vamp coz he’s been planning this for CENTURIES. “I had to wait....for you to be happy.”

This is all very civilised so far but now Benjie goes way too far - he wants Diana. I mean he WANTS her to give him children. Oh crap Benjie has really pulled the pin from the grenade now.

FIGHT!!!!!

Oh yeah - Benjie is launched through a wall and general fisticuffs ensue.

Actually this is brutal. Neither of these vamps is holding back - they are vicious, animalistic and fuck me, Matthew is growling again. I felt that head butt Matthew gives Benjie. It’s game of cat and mouse that ends in a vicious fight when Benjie whacks daddy off his feet with an iron bar and they brawl in one of the cells. There are sparks, because of course there are, as we see a blur of bodies fighting for their vampy lives. Who will come out of that room alive?

[Side note - You don’t often see no holds barred fighting on screen so I bet these two had great fun with this.]

Matthew is the victor and we see him dragging Benjie out into the corridor. Why? Why not just end him in the cell? I guess they couldn’t fit the camera in there.... Anyway, Matthew drags Benjie out by his coat - yes his coat.

You know the one that Lena borrowed... 🤔 Oh well - Benjie probably has a few of them for every occasion - a witch raping coat, a torturing coat,.... a killing daddy coat.

Matthew throws Benjie in a heap on the floor. “Stand up and face me!”

OH for god sakes GET ON WITH IT MATTHEW! But NOOOOOOOOO! Coz this is Matthew Clairmont with his Catholic guilt and his conscience so at the very last moment he goes soft. 🤬

“It’s not your fault that I wasn’t a good father.”

WTF? BIG mistake. HUGE mistake. Coz ZAP! Matthew is gripped by a witchy spell by Satu.

🤦🏻‍♂️

Book spoilers - Satu had no involvement in the Chelm fight. Knox was the witch that Benjie got help from. I like this change. Coz we got Knox being dealt with by Sarah instead of Diana - loved that. Justice! Benjie has manipulated Satu into helping and Satu is so damn desperate with jealousy of Diana that she will do anything to prove that she is ‘top witchy’. I think she has deluded herself into believing that she is an all powerful coz she’s been taught to weave by her mummy. She has NO idea that Diana is way ahead of her and has been trained by far more powerful witches back in 1590. But I’m jumping ahead to stuff that happens in the next ep so I’ll stop there.

Next up: I thought you might like to say goodbye.

📷 ADOW S3:06 unedited screenshots - see how dark these are.

#matthew goode #a discovery of witches #adow #adows3 #Matthew Scene by Scene in Season 3 #jacob ifan #malin buska

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sapphic-luthor · 4 years ago

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I won’t kiss you. It might get to be a habit and I can’t get rid of habits.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

She sits across from you, bright and easy in her movements on a chair that you know isn’t comfortable, and you’re struck. She half-laughs half-smiles, the kind where her tongue presses against the backs of her teeth and peeks through unbidden, like she’s considered trying to restrain her happiness but given up halfway through. You think of sunlight pressing rays against the backs of clouds and warm spring days pressing against the backs of winter winds and then she says your name, she says Lena in the middle of her laughter, and you almost break your only rule.

You won’t kiss her.

Just this one time, you tell yourself, because that is what you always tell yourself. It’s a tired argument, one you’ve been losing to your better sense for years, but now you’ve wanted to kiss Kara three times in two days and she’s just laughed your name from her lips, and for the first time in a long time, you consider allowing yourself to lose.

Your eyes drop to her mouth. She goes quiet. You could look at her now, could lift the angle of your gaze by a few degrees and meet her eyes and confess with your own, and God it would be so, so, easy after that. You’d fall in kisses and in bed just as easily as you’d fallen into café seats across from her all those years ago.

But you won’t kiss her.

It might get to be a habit, and you can’t get rid of habits.

(And where is the line, you think, between habit and addiction? Habit, routine, ritual, addiction: it does not matter. You are a Luthor, and if you allow Kara to be any of these things for you, she will become a target. You will be opening the softest part of yourself to the biting cold of vulnerability, and exposing the city’s hero to danger is something you refuse to do, bulletproof or not.

Is that really what it is? you wonder sometimes, quiet in the middle of the night, like your own thoughts are a secret to be kept from yourself. Are you afraid of her weaknesses, or are you afraid of handing her your own?)

Instead, you glance back down at your lap and not up at her eyes, you respond to whatever it is that’s just made her laugh, and the air clears like it had never been fraught with anything at all.

It’s not the first time you’ve had to throw ropes around the neck of your instinct and drag it home to reason, its heels dug in deep and leaving tracks in the mud the whole way. Your psyche is littered with these trails, of moments where you thought I have to and I can’t and Run, then in tandem. Somewhere along the way they’ve started passing over one another, crosshatches creating a larger picture that you refuse to step back and look at for fear that it will tell you what you already know to be true: there is something here, and it is bigger than you both.

Later, when she’s gone and you’re leaned forward and lazily dangling your wrists over the edge of your balcony, you feel afraid, because it’s getting harder to fight. You’ve spent years weaving stone labyrinths of reasoning, and today Kara had barely so much as laughed and the sun of her had nearly collapsed every one of them down to its base. Your excuses to yourself are starting to look flimsier, your arguments starting to devolve into near-stalemates. But does this mean you’re getting weaker, you wonder, or stronger? Where does one side of the war end and the other start, if the battlefield is just one connecting circle rotating around your heart?

She will find you like this, contemplative and rolling the edges of a deeply personal paradox around your mind. She will float just in front of your balcony, wiggle her eyebrows jokingly at your seriousness, and then sink down to rest her chin upon the backs of her stacked flattened hands on the ledge just next to you. She says something light and casual, like I’m here to listen, if you want to tell me what’s going on in that big genius brain of yours, and you falter.

You won’t kiss her. It might get to be a habit--

You turn your head, cut your eyes over to hers, and she’s otherworldly. The breeze of the night pushes a few stray hairs across her face, and her eyes are big and soft and exactly the same color blue as the city behind her. You bite your lip, lost in a concentration of what if, what if, what ifs, and then her own lips part and her eyes drop heavy to your mouth, and you break:

you’re going to kiss her.

You do not know this yet, but when your lips meet hers, the shaky cog within you will grind to a halt for a moment. When she kisses you back, it will catch its teeth on its neighbor, and restart itself with a smooth vigor anew, the genesis of a domino effect that will bring life to parts of you that you had forgotten went dark.

It will be just as easy as you knew it would be. You will fall into kisses and into beds with her, into holidays spent in Midvale and family trees that do not fill their roots with poison; and then-- and then Kara will see the picture you’ve been working so hard not to look at, and when she tips your chin so that you can both admire it together, you will know what you’ve always known: you are in love.

on ao3 here

#anna reblogged this quote from me earlier and said in the tags 'how dare you make me read this and think of lena'#and i thought 'well. is that a challenge'#so anyway HERE WE ARE #THANKS ANNA FOR THE INSPIRATION #supercorp #mine #minific #fic

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of-lilacs-and-lightning · 3 years ago

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Disco Elysium brain rot

So I have Thoughts about Disco Elysium and I'm gonna dump em here so I'm sorry.

I finished my first 2 playthroughs and have started on my third. Out of curiosity I looked at the trophies for it, not that I particularly care, but if there was stuff I was really missing out on, I wanted to be prepared for my next go. And as I was scrolling through them I was like fuck, I've missed a lot, how did this happen?

My first playthrough I went full emotion heavy Harry, talking to my tie and the city, apologizing to everyone about what a mess I made, but ultimately playing it safe and trying to help people, and not abusing drugs or alcohol. This is when I got the "Unbelievably Boring F**k" trophy, which we'll get back to later.

Second playthrough I did intelligent Harry, immediately gaining points with Kim by talking to him about his car and board games and obscure trivia when Encyclopedia chimed in. I chose not to use alcohol or cigarettes, but I did use Pyrholidon ONCE just to see and Kim being a narc brought it up at the intervention with Jean at the end. Again, I tried to help people, generally didn't act like a fuckup, but still didn't get a lot of progress in the way of trophies.

I'm almost finished with the first day on my third playthrough. I fully punched Cuno in the face. There's not a trophy for that, but after you do it, Cuno respects you, and stops giving you such a hard time while you're investigating.

Now I am obviously in no way encouraging punching a 12-year-old in the face (although if they had let me do it to MacCready in Fallout 3 I WOULD HAVE), but it did make me think about how the game, in some ways, rewards you for doing bad things.

On my second playthrough, Garte was of course giving me a hard time about my bill and how much I owed him. My first time through, I just begged Joyce for the full amount of the tab and paid it without complaint. The next time however, I was given the option to sneak away undetected. I botched the white check and ended up sailing headfirst into Lena's wheelchair as I ran. Garte found me ass over teakettle and told me that okay, the drinks were on him, and he'd give me some sort of discount and only charged me 75 reál. However, I discovered later that if I had passed the white check and just run right out the front door, Garte would charge me 100 reál after I had to come back to talk to him again about the investigation.

The point of all this though is that, like running from Garte or punching Cuno in the face, the game becomes a little bit easier when you're kind of a dickhead.

Drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes give pretty big bonuses and make it easier to pass important checks. If you don't try to dig into your past with your ex, you won't have fainting spells. Working with Evrart, who's a corrupt greasy slimeball, is the only way to get your lost sidearm back. Plus if you just accept his bribe, you can pay Garte off immediately and keep your room at the Whirling-In-Rags. The "Unbelievably Boring F**k" trophy pokes fun at you because you're so straight-laced, which isn't typically Harry's style. Two trophies are only available if you piss Kim off and let him die during the tribunal.

But really, if you think about Harry, a lot of that makes perfect sense. From what we know of Harry based on people who knew him before his amnesia, he was a pathetic addict, moving from one vice to the next while somehow still staying upright enough to solve cases. So of course it would be easy for him to fall into the same patterns again, it's all his body has known for a while. The game constantly reminds you that you just woke up from a three day blackout, from throwing up in front of the body of Lely in the tree, to Electrochemistry whispering in your ear tempting you, all your body craves is to get back on that bullet train to hell.

But you have the power to stop it. You have the power to make different choices, and become more than all the mistakes you made leading up to this moment. And it's hard. Doable, but definitely not easy. It makes you look and feel kinda pathetic and hopeless. You fuck up white checks a lot, and say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Your hands and feet don't quite remember how to do the things they used to, especially without chemical help. But as you solve pieces of the puzzle, internalize different thoughts to help give you boosts, and rely on Kim when you don't know how to move forward, you get stronger. Checks become easier, you remember the right things to say, and by the end you report back to Jean on the island having solved the mystery, gained Kim’s trust, and discovered a goddamn cryptid to boot.

We all know the line about Kim and how he'd sacrifice his life for ours without hesitation. This is even before he knows Harry, before he's seen how bad things can get. You have to actively try to fuck it up with him, and most times he'll follow your lead even if your methods are unconventional. Kim becomes your guide, and he doesn't degrade you, he doesn't make you feel stupid, he teases you gently when you make mistakes, he steps in front of a bullet for you.

I think it's truly wonderful and masterful storytelling on the part of the developers to incentivize people to make bad choices. Because a lot of times in real life, bad choices are easy and can make things fun, for a little while at least. And once you have become accustomed to making bad choices its like it's all your body knows how to do. It's complete muscle memory, like being trained how to use a firearm or driving a Kineema. It's possible to break these patterns, and in the beginning it feels bad. You feel low and like you'll never be able to integrate into society again. But there's hope and redemption, and people who will stick up for you even when you're at your worst.

I hope that everyone who is struggling has at least 1 Kim in their life. I hope that people who are in recovery from whatever they're fighting against know that you can always try again, you can always make new choices. You can get stronger, you can become acquainted with yourself and the world again. And hey, if Harrier Du Bois can solve a murder case with half a brain, I bet we can get through whatever we're dealing with.

And I want Harry and Kim to kiss that is all

#disco elysium #disco elysium spoilers #SPOILERS #this is spoiler heavy so plz finish your playthrough if you havent already #i'm sorry i've been having brain rot about this for the past couple days and needed to gget it out thx

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gveret-fic · 5 years ago

Note

I know Kara's usually compared to a puppy or a golden retriever but I always think of her as a particularly kind and gregarious big cat (like a v tame lion or tiger) and now I can't let go of the hc that Kryptonians purr

The first time Kara spends the night is a bit of an accident. She's waiting on the couch while Lena fixes them a drink, and Lena returns to find her head draped over the backrest, mouth gaping open and glasses askew, completely conked out.

Between the options of getting her to her apartment with a forklift and waking her up, Lena decides to let it lie. In the case of a midnight emergency, she has a secret backup super suit in the office anyway.

She gently picks the glasses off Kara's face and grabs a pillow from the bedroom. She tucks it beneath Kara's head, and Kara turns her face into it and gives it a good sniff. With dawning horror, Lena realizes she forgot to change the pillowcase.

Trying to wrest a very soft and teareable item from a slumbering Kryptoinian’s grip is a lost cause, and Lena can do nothing but watch, mortified, as Kara makes a face in her sleep and drags the possibly very stinky pillow from underneath her head to hold it in her arms, and lets out a relieved little sigh.

Lena is ready to turn away and nurse her embarrassment in private when she hears a strange noise, a sort of soft, interrupted breathing. Does Kara snore? Oh, Lena is going to use this.

She turns halfway in Kara's direction, closing her eyes and concentrating on the sound. It's quiet and regular with a distinct rise and fall, a low frequency warbling, and it has a strangely soothing quality to it; the more Lena listens, the more she wants to hear, almost like a---

---a purr. Kara, on her couch, clutching Lena's used pillow to her chest, purring.

Lena flees to her office, filled with a sudden inexplicable energy, face flaming with something that feels, unfortunately, like more than embarrassment.

The second time Kara spends the night is a bit more intentional.

"Never ever ever?" Kara asks in horror.

"Well, unless you count boarding school."

"Obviously I don’t! Mandatory sleep arrangements are not a sleepover, Lena!"

And so Kara shows up Friday evening at Lena's apartment, equipped with snacks, board games, and two sleeping bags.

They camp out on the living room floor after many harrowing but obligatory sleepover activities as per Kara’s direction. Kara snuggles into her sleeping bag until only her head is visible, and barely that in its entirety. She smiles at Lena. Over the hum of the fridge and the occasional traffic outside, Lena can hear her start to purr.

Lena wants to ask, wants to reach, wants to touch, but Kara closes her eyes and is out like a light, rolling onto her side, her back to Lena, even as the purring continues.

Lena wonders what it would be like to feel it, to simply reach out and press her hand to Kara’s back, let those powerful vibrations travel up her arm, sense the corporeal manifestation of Kara’s contentment and comfort and ease.

Fuck. How invasive would that be? Lena’s in her own little sleeping bag, Kara in hers, a clear delineation between them. Kara had rolled onto her side, showing Lena her back. She trusts Lena enough to fall asleep in her presence, to---to purr about it.

Lena turns over, curling her hand to her chest, and allows that addictive, peaceful sound to lull her to sleep.

The seventh time Kara spends the night, Lena just invites her to bed.

"Come on," she says. "My couch is sick of you. Give the poor thing some space."

Kara doesn’t always seem entirely at ease in her body, but she sprawls all over Lena’s mattress, linking her arms behind her head, filling Lena’s space with her presence as naturally as if this bed has always been hers. Lena watches her from the corner of her eye as she wriggles a little in the sheets, hugging her pillow in one arm, luxuriating in the simple comfort. She’s magnetic.

Lena debates her options before picking her satin pyjama set and climbing in beside her.

Kara immediately flops onto her side, head propped on her arm, grinning. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Lena has left barely an inch between her body and the edge of the bed. She touches it, a reassurance, a promise. “Oh?” she asks. “Come here often, then?”

Kara leans closer. “I wish,” she says, voice low.

Lena stares at her for a fraction too long, laughs awkwardly to compensate, turns away to turn off the light. “Goodnight, you flirt.”

Kara reaches out and squeezes Lena’s hand in the dark. “Goodnight, Lena.”

They fall asleep on opposite sides of the bed. Lena knows this for certain; she checked. She can remember touching the edge of the bed just before falling asleep. But she wakes up---she wakes up with her arm wound around Kara’s belly, Kara’s butt tucked into her groin, Kara’s body vibrating palpably against her own.

Sleep foggy and enamored, Lena reaches an unthinking hand to press directly over Kara’s purring chest.

“Hey,” a muggy voice greets her. Kara turns over onto her back, shoots her a blurry smile.

“Shit.” Lena tries to snatch away her hand only for Kara to grab her arm, keeping her hand against Kara’s chest. The vibrations intensify. “Sorry,” Lena mutters, eyes fixed on her own hand.

Kara grips tighter. “You like it?” she asks, her voice sleep-rough.

Lena swallows. Nods. Denial would be absurd at this point.

“It’s for you,” Kara rasps.

Lena feels her heart in her throat. Her eyes find Kara’s.

“I like your bed,” Kara says, words plain and eyes intense. “I like you.”

Kara’s purring swells and dips with her breath, loud in Lena’s ears, tangible against her skin. Lena puts her weight on the palm braced on Kara’s chest; Kara strains upward in an impressive show of core strength. They meet somewhere in the middle.

Kara kisses sweet and simple, a little sluggish with sleep, still gripping Lena’s forearm. The purring deepens, a low, insistent hum between them; a reassurance, a confession, a gift. Lena turns her head away, overwhelmed. Takes the hand off too.

“What?” Kara sits up further, hand sliding up to grip Lena’s wrist, thumb against her palm. The purring quiets. “What’s wrong?”

I just feel really loved right now, is a thought Lena could never verbally express in a million years.

“Gosh, Lena, are you crying?” Kara digs her thumb into the heel of Lena’s palm. “I’m that bad, huh?”

“The worst,” Lena agrees. Sniffs.

Kara smiles. “Okay. Let me try again? I’m a very good student.”

Lena wipes a knuckle under her eye. “A real teacher’s cat,” she says.

Kara doesn’t dignify that with a laugh, but she does dignify it with another kiss. Lena slumps forward into her until Kara's back flops back on the bed and her arms come around Lena, physically cocooned within every tactile expression of Kara’s affection.

Lena has no particular physiological mechanism to showcase her appreciation, so she pours it into the kiss instead.

#supercorp #my fic #(let)#Anonymous

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