#Supergirl: Being Super

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Summary: Some people go out for night-time drives or walks. Other people have night-time flights.

I read Supergirl: Being Super a few days ago and something clicked. Here we are.

[is-not-a-bell]

Sleepy King

The Justice League Dark caught wind of a cult trying to summon the Ghost King. A being with power so terrible and great, that all of the chaotic Infinite Realms feared him. A true tyrant. Long ago it took the effort of ghosts equal to gods to seal him away into a permeant slumber.

And now this cult wishes to wake him and bring him to the living realm. It was a race against the clock to find the ritual site and all members were called on board, magic or not. Even Constantine looked stressed.

They did find the site.

But it was too late, the ritual was completed. The entire inner circle of runes glowed before being swallowed in a column of green light. The air filled with static and a ringing that made Supergirl crumble to the ground.

The light dissipated, but there was no great figure or being of pure evil. Instead there was a boy, a teenager. He laid on the ground curled up in his sleep. He was a ghost no doubt, dressed in regal clothing.

Despite this when he stirred, everyone froze. It seemed the cold hard ground woke him up. He got up slowly and yawned, revealing his sharp fangs. Once sat up he opened his bleary eyes to look around. He looked confused and tired, really tired.

"Where am I?" He mumbled. "I was trying to get some sleep." Constantine internally screaming, latches onto that last sentence. He glances over to Batman. He caught that last part too. Batman approaches calmly and crouches down in front of the boy king. Hardening his resolve, Batman takes on a gentle tone.

"Hey kiddo, sorry we woke you. Lets get you back to bed yeah?" The boy nodded in agreement. He pulled himself to his feet before looking around in a circle. "Where did my blanket go?" He asked rather sadly. Batman is quick to shed his own cape and drape it over him. "You can borrow my cape until we get you a new one." He nodded again, pulling the black fabric around himself.

John quickly summoned a portal door, while Batman led the King through it. John threw looks around at everyone. Everyone could tell he was mouthing the words. 'Find me a fucking blanket now'

Running on the logic of getting the king away from Earth, away from graves and the undead, that could give him power. The portal led to the Watch Tower.

Batman took advantage of the King's bleary state to send a base wide alert for all noncritical members to evacuate immediately. With a priority that death adjacent members leave first. "The stars are pretty." Bruce looked at the boy staring out the window in wonder. He almost looked like a normal kid, almost.

"Yeah they are, it's pretty late so we should get you back to bed." He nodded, going along with Batman's gentle coaxing.

He takes the boy to an unused bedroom. Making sure the room isn't dusty and that lights are dimmed. He glances back to see about a dozen different leaguers all holding blankets, one thought to bring extra pillows. The bed was pretty barren with only a single pillow and a thin bedsheet. So Bruce took a thick duvet, one of the fluffier blankets and a second pillow from his team before shooing them away.

The boy ended up keeping his cape, mumbling how it was warm. He tucked the boy in, before quietly exiting the room and turning off the light. He was pretty sure the King fell back to sleep before he even reached the light switch.

After the door shut, he made direct eye contact with John. "Constantine." They needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

[morninkim]

37 years old but everyone keeps calling her girl

[karaspal]

you honestly don’t need to like every queer character that exists, and i truly mean it. at the end of the day, if you don’t like them, you have every right to. but you don’t get to say they are bad representation simply because you don’t related to them. not every character will appeal to you, but that doesn’t make them a bad representation. feel free to critique them and their personalities, it’s your right to, but don’t be a jerk about their queerness unless they are falling under a harmful stereotype.

some people take it on the next leave too, and say that a character who isn’t queer in canon is better representation. in what world? you might feel connected to them and see your queerness in their journey, the same thing has happened to me too, but that’s not the same as having a literal queer story. queer characters are there to make you feel seen, but not only that. they are also here to challenge the status quo, to normalise queer people just existing and to make bigots uncomfortable. remember when jon kent was first announced to be bisexual with the cover of him kissing his boyfriend? yeah, a headcanon will never have such reaction.

my point isn’t made to attack people for seeing parts of themselves in “straight / allo / cis” characters. it’s wonderful that you found a character you could relate to and make you feel less alone. it really is. like i said, i see parts of my queer identity in characters who “don’t” have my sexuality too. but don’t put down actual queer representation for characters who have never been confirmed queer. it’s wrong of you to. at the end of the day, these are the characters who actually make the difference.

[viaov]

Phil Noto, Supergirl

[argoscity]

SUPERGIRL: BEING SUPER (2017) #2 written by Mariko Tamaki art by Joëlle Jones

[t4tails]

no fucking way kara literally commissioned babs first batgirl fit. youre kidding meeee

[bisupergirl]

there's gonna be a new supergirl special out on halloween written by mariko tamaki with art by skylar patridge 🥹🥹 really hoping it leads into an ongoing series for kara.....

[tofangirlonly]

Choices are being made.

Choices that involve two Winns at once.

One sweet heroic boy.

One unhinged evil one.

I love him.

💥💥💥

[owl-with-a-pen]

So, I have reached the final episode of season 6 of my Supergirl rewatch and I just have to reiterate: they did Nyxly so dirty.

I still don't understand what they were thinking. Nyxly is the first person to pass the Courage Totem's test, she's inundated with empathy from the Humanity Totem, she's completely open with the Truth Totem and is granted access to the Love Totem by choosing the life of a child over her own quest for power.

So, why did they just bung her back in the Phantom Zone!?

It wasn't a satisfying ending, it wasn't even a character arc - it was a circle! She ended up exactly where she started. Sure, Lex's hubris being his own downfall made sense for him, but him being in the second leg of season 6 at all felt so unnecessary that that wasn't satisfying, either.

Here's how I like to imagine this story arc going, because I'm never going to have the time or energy to do anything with this idea besides writing it down like this:

So, we've got Humanity, Hope, Courage, Dreams, Love, Truth and Destiny. 7 Totems. 7 Super Friends. Say, each Totem was tied specifically to a member of the Super Friends and so we're given an episode per Totem exploring a member of the team and their unique relationship to what that core element represented for them. (They sort of did this in the show but only for a couple of the Totems and they never really committed to it as a theme).

Narratively speaking, the Super Friends are working together to beat the trials, which is exactly what a superhero team should be all about. Together, they represent the best the planet has to offer.

Except, that's not the point of the trials. To gather the AllStone, you have to do it alone. And who's doing it alone? Nyxly. Nyxly bares her soul to these Totems, she gains most of them independently without cheating and the further along she gets into the trials, the more she's able to overcome the very reason for her pain and anger that led her down this path to begin with.

The Super Friends aren't looking for power, that was never their goal, and so of course they aren't playing by the rules to gain it, they're doing it in a way that everyone equally shares a part of the burden and so the effect isn't as intense. For Nyxly, though, by gaining all 7 Totems and going through those associated trials, I like to think that by the end of her arc, she willingly gives up that power.

And maybe that's the whole point of the AllStone. Only someone worthy of power should gain it, and the only people worthy of power are the ones that don't want it. The AllStone isn't meant to be a weapon or even a tool used by an individual, it's supposed to be for the whole world to share. And so the very mechanics of the trial will either fail those corrupted by their thirst for power long before they get a taste, or teach someone the true values of their own humanity by fairly passing every test.

I know the show wanted to go out with a bang and a big-stakes CGI battle with all the trimmings, but Nyxly was never designed as a villain. She was hurt and angry, but that never made her evil. She was a fifth dimensional imp, all she ever did was cause mischief, and so having her face her own reality through the trials would have been a major grounding factor for her.

To have the final villain of the show willingly give up their power not because it was beaten out of them, but simply because they decided to feels right to me. They built up the stakes so high in this season to make Nyxly out as the most powerful villain they'd ever faced -- and so maybe the only way to beat her was for her to decide that the fight was no longer worth fighting.

I dunno, it just would've been nice if the AllStone had actually meant something at the heart of it, and that Nyxly actually had a satisfying end to her story that made sense for her character.

Oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dw-flagler]

its kind of funny to me that in the comics supergirl kind of occupies the spot for like the edgy superman. which is kind of weird for her typical role as kid sidekick to superman because her thing as a character (at least the versions of her character that i like) is that she doesn't have a reason to help anybody and doesn't like earth. edgy superman. but she's also the kid sidekick. strange juxtaposition

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Does anyone want to see me do analysis/gushing over Supergirl: being Super?

[a-sky-full-of-ideas]

Kara would have given up being the hope for thousands of people just for Lena to have hope.

Lena would have given up the life’s of thousands of people just for Kara to stay alive and come back.

They both were ready to ignore all of their morals just to protect each other. That’s how much they love each other.

[dancedance-resolution]

i started a supercorp portrait of a lady on fire au like three years ago. i'm never going to finish it, but the writing style is pretty cool, so i want to share it. so um enjoy the prologue and a bit of chapter one?

---

Prologue. Bonnelles, France. 1786.

“First, my contours,” Kara said, her voice soft and level. She looked out upon the dozen or so young women, their eyes darting back and forth from their papers to Kara herself. “The outline,” she continued. The increasingly swift sound of scratching charcoal prompted Kara to further instruct, “Not too fast. Take time to look at me.” She paused. “See how my arms are placed.”

At that moment, Kara saw the painting.

She swallowed and took in a breath; she schooled her expression before letting out the air with a pathetically soft “My hands.” Her students’ gaze followed her verbal direction, now observing as Kara’s fingers curled with remembrance. Their own hands now began to sketch the slope of hers—the slope that had once coaxed breathy moans from a lover, the slope that had once created that very painting in all of its hollow longing.

Kara felt her heart rate accelerating, and her attempts at calming deep breaths only made her shoulders shake unsteadily. “Who brought that painting out?” Her eyes darted around, landing on each possible offender, as she tensed her core and adopted a stern countenance.

Every student dutifully turned to look at the work.

It was an especially young girl who finally lifted her hand. “I brought it. From the stock room. Should I have not?”

Kara’s “no” felt like a brick, its weight threatening to pry tears from her reddening eyes. So Kara took another swallow, a handful of blinks, a few more steadying breaths.

“Did you paint it?” the girl asked innocently. Nia, her name was? She stared at Kara, oblivious to the flood of sound overwhelming Kara’s mind and echoing in the cavern of her heart.

“Yes,” Kara uttered softly, the word barely audible as they fell from her lips. “A long time ago.”

Nia’s head snapped back to examine the painting once more. It stood on an old but sturdy easel, tattooed and scarred but still standing. The artwork itself was brooding, with a white sun bleeding into a dark vignette. Heavy clumps of clouds occupied the sky and caged some of the sun’s rays, so the fire burning behind the woman was bright enough in comparison to create a dragging shadow of her figure. The flames crawled up the back of her windswept dress, bringing sharp tension to an otherwise lulling, melancholy landscape.

“What’s the title?”

The sound of the sea began to swell in Kara’s head. Her lips trembled. Her body unwittingly swayed slightly. “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.”

---

Chapter I. The island of Brittany, France, and the surrounding sea. 1779.

Kara squinted into the distance, her face scrunching up a bit as she desperately tried to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun on the water. For all its gorgeous teals and sparkling peaks, it certainly did make her wish for one of those brimmed hats the rowers were all wearing. With every one of their paced paddles, the cork-like little canoe bobbed haphazardly. Kara rather felt as if she were in the wine glass of a thoroughly drunken Marie Antoinette.

At least she wasn’t prone to seasickness.

She still felt quite unsteady, though, being thrown about and forced to pathetically grab onto the boat’s low walls. She leaned forward, trying to regain her balance and ground herself despite the absence of ground.

The wooden pallet holding her canvas was, apparently, as unstable as she was, and the next thing Kara knew, it had been lurched off of the boat like vomit from a drunkard. Kara watched helplessly as it thrashed among the choppy waves, the sea carrying it a few feet from the boat.

The chief rower met her desperate look with exhausted resignation; he ceased his paddling as Kara shed her overcoat and placed a precarious foot on the edge of the canoe.

With a strained creak from the boat’s wood, she jumped into the water, dress billowing behind her. Her first gasp for air upon emerging from the water was audible; she could feel the effort in her throat. Her arms moved in laborious little arcs as she slowly made her way towards the floating pallet and finally made a desperate reach for it. Kara’s fingers grasped onto a wooden board, and she pulled herself up onto it with a grunt.

---

The incessant wind upon the sea was certainly not helping Kara. Dripping wet, she wrapped herself up in her overcoat in a pitiful plea for warmth. She held the edges of the garment up to her lips, the sensation of the dry fabric bringing her some comfort as she closed her eyes and left herself to the mercy of the mighty sea.

But the interminable rocking of the feeble boat wouldn’t allow her any rest.

Kara wasn’t very religious, not anymore. Yet, the sight of the cliffs and coast of Brittany moved her to relieved prayer.

---

The sun had already begun to set as Kara trekked up the sandy coast. Her legs ached with every stumbling, unsure step—maybe she was a bit seasick after all—and her hands were tired of having to grip her full skirt to keep it out of her way.

She paused on the rocks, taking a moment to manually wring some of the water out of her skirt. She filled her lungs with an arduous breath before slinging the rope holding the pallet over her shoulder. Next came the fabric sling, which housed her trunk of personal items—she positioned it on her back with careful poise.

The journey up the cliffs and towards the trees was exhausting. Kara’s skirt required repositioning every few seconds, the rope was digging into her shoulder, and the pallet and trunk slammed into her back with each wobbling step. By the time she reached the straight path up to the residence, her breaths were heavy and pained, and the sun was nearly fully hidden beneath the horizon.

A soft light emanated from the windows above the mansion’s door, helping Kara feel a bit more secure as she knocked. A short blonde woman answered her summon and introduced herself with a flat “I’m Eve.” She opened the door a bit wider and gestured with her body for Kara to come in.

Eve held a small candle as she guided Kara up the stairs, the sounds of their shoes echoing through the grand yet starkly undecorated hallway. The walls of the stairwell were cement bricks, and the wrought iron bannister was rather plain and geometric.

They came to a stop in front of a similarly void room, bare save a few heavy curtains and a daybed. The raised panels along these walls matched the white-painted wood of the window frames, and they gave the chamber some elegant character.

While Eve entered the comparatively less intimidating room, Kara stayed back a moment, taking in the shafts of muted blue light from the windows and the contrasting warm glow of leaping flames from the central fireplace.

Eve crouched down to poke at the fire as Kara set down her belongings. “It was a reception room,” Eve explained. “Though I’ve never seen it used.”

The fire crackled pleasantly. “Have you been here long?” Kara inquired.

“Three years,” Eve answered, directing her attention back to the fire.

Kara peeled off her overcoat and draped it along the wainscoting. “Do you like it here?”

“Yes,” Eve said simply as she stood up. She turned to Kara, meeting her eyes now as her hands smoothed over her skirt. “I’ll let you get dry.” And with a nod, she was on her way.

Kara watched her every step.

Once the door closed, she hastily began removing her overskirt. It fell to the dark herringbone floor with an unglamorous thud.

---

There was no method or grace to the way Kara wrapped her hand around the rusting crowbar, but with a few jerks, she’d managed to successfully pry the top off of the pallet.

After setting down the wood cover, Kara extended her hand, letting it fall clumsily onto the slick canvas in front of her. It was still wet, and her hand’s small circular movement caused moisture to pool at her fingertips, as if her touch had beckoned the water. So her hand withdrew, and Kara slid the canvas out from its container. Her eyes danced over the surface as she considered how to dry it, holding it in front of herself like the Communion host of an evening Mass.

---

Kara decided to accompany her drying canvas, which was now positioned next to the fireplace. Stripped naked, she sat in front of the fire and pulled her legs towards herself—she was vulnerable, sitting there bare and in a new environment, and the action made her feel a bit more small, compact, and safe.

Kara set down her candle so she could light her tobacco pipe with the flames. Her large, smoky exhales grounded her, in a way, with the familiar sight and smell acting as a sort of sedative. And she stared forward, expression blank but unmistakably worn.

---

Kara walked barefoot along the cement floor, making her way through the hall and to the pantry room wrapped in nothing but her robe-like smock.

[karaspal]

I just remembered about the existence of the Supergirl Special #1 and I got annoyed again. So now I shall copy and paste the review I left in comic geeks.

Perhaps Mariko Tamaki should stay away from Kara. I’m yet to read a good Supergirl story from her. I get that this story has some message about girlhood somewhere in these pages, but it poses an issue Kara has never had. She has never felt like she’s falling behind. That’s not a part of her character. So why use her to tell this story?

Another problem I have is her risking the lives of innocent people, and for what? Because she is jealous of Karen? She’d never do something like that. Helping people has always been her number one priority. And she’d never be jealous of someone else. Especially someone who had their entire charm assassinated by Leah Williams.

Kara can be arrogant and stubborn sometimes, yes, but not in the way it’s presented here. She is arrogant and stubborn in the sense she wants to save everyone and would never stop, even if she’s on the brink of death. Call it the indomitable kryptonian spirit, if you will. Call it stupid stubbornness, if you will. But it is who Kara is. Sometimes she can feel like she’s the only one who can do what it needs to be done, to save the people who need saving, and yes, it is arrogant, but the reason she feels so is because she can’t have anyone dying on her watch. Those “toxic” traits of her come from a place of selflessness and compassion, not jealousy. Everything she is, it comes from a place of selflessness and compassion. She suffered so much in her life, you better believe she’d do everything in her power and more to make sure no one else has to suffer the same way she did.

Kara is a competent woman who knows what she is doing. She’s confident and strong. Phillip Kennedy Johnson once described her as always being “the smartest person in the room”. It still baffles me how DC turned PKJ’s Supergirl pitch down, but green lit this.

It’s been half a year and somehow, I hate this more than the day it came out. Perhaps, it’s because this is last Supergirl thing DC published and it was last year. It’s never too late to let PKJ write her, you know.

[viaov]

Skylar Partridge, Supergirl