#donor atom

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Therefore, there is a significant probability that the 'dangling' donor atom can reattach to the metal ion before the other end of the ligand detaches (figure 13.23); from this, it is apparent that it should be more difficult to lose a bidentate ligand than a monodentate ligand.

"Chemistry" 2e - Blackman, A., Bottle, S., Schmid, S., Mocerino, M., Wille, U.

[etirabys]

abiogenesis & endosymbiosis timeline

I put this together after reading Nick Lane's The Vital Question. The proposed timeline:

3.8bya: The earliest evidence for life is isotopic fractionation. The carbon (and iron, sulfur, nitrogen) atoms in graphite in Greenland are non-randomly sorted, which indicates the presence of cells whose enzymes have a slight preference for the lighter forms of each. However, geological processes can also produce non-random sorting, so this evidence is ambiguous.

3.5bya: Less ambiguously, we have microfossils that look like cells, again with isotopic signatures.

We think bacteria and archaea split off really early, close to the beginning of life (abiogenesis) itself. This is because their cell walls and membranes are so different it's hard to see how one could have evolved from the other. They probably emerged in parallel when they became independent at all. (Quick sketch of abiogenesis, and bacteria/archaea divergences.)

3.2bya: We see bacterial activity in rust bands in rocks. When bacteria strip electrons from iron dissolved in the oceans, the oxidated iron precipitates out into rust and sinks down to the ocean floor.

All bacteria and archaea respire (strip electrons from a donor 'fuel' to generate ATP, which fuels cellular activity). Many donors are possible – common ones are Fe2+, H2S, or H2O (which respectively become Fe3+, S, and O2 after the electron is stripped). Water is the last to be cracked as a donor.

2.4bya: It's cracked now, by some bacteria (archaea never manage it), which leads to The Great Oxidation Event. The oxygen is first absorbed by the oceans, the seabed, and land surfaces. It'll take over a billion years before the oxygen 'sinks' are exhausted, and oxygen accumulates in the atmosphere for real.

1.8bya: A bacterium somehow ends up inside an archaeon cell, and somehow they don't die about it. The bacterium becomes a specialized energy-producing unit, allowing the host cell to grow larger and more complex. They become the first eukaryote, invent sex, and spawn all complex life. (You can read my RPF about it btw.)

1bya: This engulfment – endosymbiosis – happens one more time, to produce chloroplasts in plants.

0.5-6bya: Atmospheric oxygen levels are rising for real now. We see large complex eukaryotes for the first time. These creatures have specialized tissues whose failure threatens the entire organism, and it becomes advantageous to separate out the germline (the part of eukaryotes that divide forever, e.g. sperm and eggs) and make the rest of the body just durable enough to last as long as the most failure-prone tissues. Death by design has entered the world.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death Part 3

Part 1 and Part 2 Doctor Alex Danvers and Karen Starr moved in perfect symmetry, as they worked to extract the bullets.

Kara had sensed the one that punctured Lena's lung, but another had been hidden by her spine. Her stomach rumbled, but the granola bar Nia had dropped off sat uneaten in Kara's pocket. Instead, she kept her vigil, her stomach knotted at the sight of Lena's still form. Alex had been stiff-lipped about the prognosis. Each second, minute, hour, Lena still breathed, unconscious, while the doctors sewed her body back together. Machines hummed and beeped, and Kara took to pacing a groove into the floor. Nia had tried twice to convince her to come eat with the others, but Kara couldn't leave Lena.

If she did, she'd do more dangerous stunts, testing the edge of her powers, just to not feel the intense shame, fear, and worry that throbbed through her muscles.

One of the nurses rushed out of the room. "Rh-null blood!" she shouted to one of the technicians, further down the medical wing. "We need another batch!"

"That's our last one!" the technician called back. "Ms. Lena Luthor was our only donor."

"What do you mean Rh-null blood?" Kara asked, anxiously.

"Need it to prevent hemolysis," the nurse said. "Her blood type is one of the rarest, compatible as a donor with any human blood type, but only able to receive Rh-null blood in return."

Dread curdled through Kara. "When does she need this?"

"As soon as possible," the nurse glanced back at Alex and the other doctor.

Alex leaned over Lena's bed with her tools, her body blocking the spine region from view. They'd propped Lena up on her side with a thick pillow on the other. Her skin was pallid, deep shadows under her eyes, and her body limp against the body pillow. A terrifying sight for Kara.

Kara clenched her jaw. She pushed past the nurse despite the nurse's protestations. "Alex! Does she need another transfusion?"

Alex waved a blood-stained glove at her. "Kara, don't interrupt, and yes. Nurse --"

"We're out of her blood type. Nurse said it was super rare, is that true?" Kara ached to reach out to hold Lena's limp hand, but she didn't want to disturb the delicate surgery.

Alex looked up. Even with the mask, she looked haggard. "Well shit. And yes. i wouldn't even know how to begin to find it. All the stock we had is what Lena herself donated. She's one of the few Rh-null donors in the world."

Kara grimaced. "Then what about synthetic blood? I could make some in the Fortress if I had a sample of her blood."

"Synthetic? Would her body reject it?" Dr. Karen Starr glanced at Kara, her eyebrows scrunched. She held a scalpel in her hand, its edge gleaming silver in the florescent lighting.

"Not if it's an exact match. I should be able to replicate down to the atomic level, but..." Kara nibbled on her lower lip and the urge to weep nearly overcame her. "I could only do a small amount. It takes considerable time and energy to do larger batches. Maybe enough for one or two transfusions."

She didn't want to admit that it had been years since she did any science of this magnitude, and that had been with Kryptonian blood, which differed slightly from human. The protocol for working the synthesizers was the same regardless.

One of the monitors beeped. Alex cursed again. "She's dipping again. Starr we may need a breathing tube if she continues to dive." She stripped off her gloves, tossed them in the bio-waste, and replaced them. "Kara, if you can pull that off, then we need it as soon as possible." She used the IV to pull a small vial of blood. She handed it to Kara.

"I'll be back in a jiffy." She dashed out of the room, leaving a gust of wind in her wake.

Again the sonic boom rattled the windows of National City. The blood vial she held close to her chest.

Returning to the Fortress so soon left her feeling ill.

Here Lena had saved her from Rama Khan. Here Lena and her had fought. And here, Lena encased her in a Kryptonite ice cage. The horrifying truth was Kara could have broken free, it'd been painful, but she had the strength. Instead, she'd stood there, stunned.

If Lena had decided to kill her, Kara would have let it happen. There was no doubt in her mind; she could never fight Lena.

But Lena hadn't wanted to kill her. She'd done all she could to make sure Kara recovered fast. That seeded Kara's wrecked heart with a wild hope.

Turning down a side corridor, she raced for the medical wing of the fortress, the area she had not taken Lena. Inside a massive tube took up much of the room, with several medical instruments, machinery, and a control panel covered in Kryptonian glyphs.

She keyed the command for the synthesis of blood, a program coded into the Fortress long ago, likely when Kal's father sent it on its way.

She flipped open the side panel and inserted the tube. Now Lena Luthor's blood would join her own and Kal's in the archive, along with all of Kara's and Kal's family.

A three-dimensional DNA strand appeared in the air, along with various imaging of the cells contained in the blood. She keyed an analysis against her limited database, then keyed the command for a replica of the blood.

A red alert appeared requesting more material. Kara scowled, of course. Can't synthesize a larger amount from nothing.

She recalled a vague lesson from her father. How he'd used raw ingredients from plants to show her how any ingredients worked for synthesizer as long as it held the correct set of elements.

So, okay, raw ingredients could come from anything. So why not herself?

All that mattered was that the final product exactly match Lena's blood.

"Kara Zor El?" Kelex floated up to her. "Do you need assistance?"

She glanced at the floating robot. "Yes, actually. I need you to take my blood and put it in the synthesizer. It's low on ingredients."

He flew closer to the medical control panel. "This is human blood you are synthesizing. Are you certain you wish to do this?"

Kara rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm. "Yes, do it." She closed her eyes and tensed for the pain of a kryptonite needle. Kelex worked quietly. The soft slosh of blood in the tubing he'd hooked into the synthesizer rang with the hum of the machine.

She opened her eyes to see the data from her donation form on the other side of Lena's blood imaging. She watched in fascination as her blood was broken down into its smallest components and reassembled with Lena's parameters.

The entire process lasted fifteen minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Kara kept shifting and nearly dislodged Kelex's needle from her vein twice.

When the signal rang for completion, Kelex applied an coagulating agent to her wound and gathered up the tubing. "This will be destroyed per protocol. Do you wish to destroy the original sample?"

Kara tugged the larger container free from the synthesizer. The smaller vial still sat in its slot. "Yes. Thanks Kelex. I got to go."

The entire flight back her head swam with dizziness from the blood draw, the night sky not at all conducive toward recovery. By the time she stumbled into the surgery room with the container, it'd been nearly twenty-five minutes.

"Please tell me I'm on time," she said.

Alex stared at the metal container. Several monitors beeped alarmingly in the background. "Yeah, yeah, how do I work it? Because she needs it now."

She showed Alex the set of controls and where the tube could be inserted for the transfer. "I tried to make enough to last awhile."

Alex swiftly hooked it up to Lena's IV. "All that from a small sample?"

"Well, not exactly." Kara rubbed the back of her neck. "I used my own blood as raw ingredients so the synthesizer could reformulate it for Lena."

"Shit." Alex's hand hesitated on the clip that would start the transfusion. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Hundred percent match to the original sample. Do you have a choice?" Kara crossed her arms. "You said her blood type is rare."

"Nearest hospital with Rh-null stock has only a quarter of what we need," Dr. Starr said. She worked on the final stitches to Lena's spine surgery. "We've had no other replies on the network."

"Fine. Let's hope this works." She flicks the clip and breathes out a long sigh. "As for you," she pointed to Kara, "great work. Now shoo and go sit under the sunbed. You look pale as fuck." Alex waved her hands toward the door. "I'll let you know when she wakes."

When. Alex said when.

Hope dug its roots into Kara's heart for the first time that day. *** Light danced across her eyelids. Whispers echoed in her ears. Soft fabric lay across her skin. Pain melded with the aggravating thirst and pulsing headache.

If she was dead, then the pain would cease.

Which meant she was alive.

Her eyes slowly opened to a small room of mostly glass walls. She lay on a bed, and a sheet and blue blanket covered her body. Someone dressed in a white lab coat and black pants fiddled with the IV bags. Or rather one metal container that had a tube connected to her IV, its contents blood-red.

The red hair cropped short rang with familiarity. "Alex?" Lena rasped. Speaking hurt her throat. Her mouth way too dry.

The woman turned with a smile of relief. "Hey, the sleeping beauty finally awakes." She turned and lifted the blanket to adjust the blood pressure cuff and examine the IV needle in her elbow. "Maybe now my sister will stop bothering the hell out of me."

"Kara?" Lena struggled to comprehend what happened. "How? What is that? Why am I..." She tried to lift her finger to point at the container, but she seemed to have misplaced her strength on the stairwell.

"The signal watch." Alex lifted her head to study Lena, her eyebrows furrowed. "You're lucky. A few minutes later and I'm not sure even surgery would have saved you. You lost far too much blood. It's a good thing you donate blood a lot, as we had to do several transfusions. When our stock ran low, Kara raced to the fortress to synthesize more."

Lena struggled to parse Alex's words. "Synthesized?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm no expert on Kryptonian tech. That's Kara, Kal, and Brainy. All I know is she used her own blood as ingredients to craft a replica of yours."

"Her own blood?" Lena repeated, stunned.

But why? She'd raged at Kara, trapped her in a Kryptonite cage, deceived her for months, and yet Kara saved her? And why was Alex helping her? If Alex knew about the Kryptonite cage, she'd be more likely to shoot her or throw her in a cage to die. Not save her life.

Hot brands swept through her neck and back, and she hissed, her eyes briefly closing. The machine hummed next to her like an irritating bee. Each pump alleviated some of the dizziness, but the pain burned with a dogged persistence.

Alex reached over her to dim the lights. "Look, I get the whole being reluctant to use the watch. But for that situation? You should have used it sooner." She fiddled with a tablet. "Those bullets did some nasty damage."

She gave Lena a faint smile. "You also don't have to worry about Leviathan assassins any further. Kara took care of them."

"Took care of them?" She felt like a parrot, repeating words that made no sense to her. "But why? We -- we fought."

Alex hesitated far too long, her smile tight. "Ah, she just took care of them. They won't bother anyone going forward."

It dawned on her slowly. "She killed them? But..."

Alex understood her trailed off sentence. "I know," she said, softly. She grasped Lena's hand and squeezed gently. "It's against her code to kill, but you've always been her exception."

This was a dream. It had to be a dream.

Tears blurred her vision, and although she tried to hold them back, they burned on her cheeks. Her body throbbed in agony, her condition atrocious, and this information overwhelmed.

She had been prepared to die on the stairs. Any signal watch activation had been only for a last goodbye.

Kara should have left her there. Moved on and found someone better. Not save Lena, who out of bitterness and heartbreak hurt Kara and deceived her for months.

With a tenderness she didn't deserve, Alex wiped away the tears with a kleenex. "Take it easy, Lena. You're safe here." She gestured to a cup with a straw. "Want a few drops of water? Can't have too much but it'll at least eliminate the dry mouth."

"Alex..." the urge to confess simmered, but the words clogged her throat and came out as a strangled sob. She wanted to curl up in a fetal position and cease existing. She should have died. Why couldn't Kara let her die? She'd lost everything.

"I don't deserve this..."

"Nonsense." Alex smoothed back Lena's hair. "You deserve it more than anyone." Her smile held a hint of melancholy. "And I'm sorry I wasn't as supportive of you and Kara. No matter what happens, we're here for you, Lena. And I want to make up for my mistakes to you."

"Don't!" The word erupted in a coughing fit. "Please, don't. Alex, I hurt Kara. Don't you see? I'm not good." Her tears burned with shame. Her thoughts fixated on the Kryptonite cage, the pain of seeing Kara in it, the urge to free her, how it'd taken all her willpower to walk through that portal. How she'd collapsed into tears on the other side. She loved Kara, and yet still hurt her? What kind of monster did that?

God, she loved Kara. She loved her so much it hurt. Now she was broken on bed, trapped with the knowledge she was capable of hurting Kara. "You shouldn't have saved me."

Alex frowned. "Lena, we all make shitty mistakes. I fuck up and hurt Kara sometimes, and we talk it out and fix it. You doing it doesn't mean you deserve death."

"Shitty? Shitty doesn't cover this." She felt loopy and out of control. Her emotions bubbled and frothed, her head spun, and the pain crawled through her spine. "I killed my brother for her. And... and he showed me she was Supergirl. I didn't know what to do. So I went to all of you, and you were celebrating and playing games." The pain with each breath, each word spoken ripped through her. But she had to get it out. She had to make sure Alex knew she was not worth this care.

"Lena..."

"No! Let me finish!" She tried to push herself upright, but her arm wouldn't handle her weight. She collapsed onto her side, wheezing. "Was I just the Luthor on a leash? No more a friend than a cat with a rat? I wanted Kara to feel my pain. I deceived her, used her, and I do not deserve this care--"

"Lena," Alex interrupted, sternly. "Lena, listen to me. You are hurting yourself with this." She gently pushed her back against the mattress and readjusted the blankets. "I am a trained doctor, and one thing I know, that it doesn't matter what a person did. If they come to me needing medical assistance, I give it. Want to know the best thing you can do right now?"

Lena sucked in a breath, still trembling from the pain and exertion.

"Rest. I mean it, you've been through hell. Your heart stopped during surgery, okay?" Alex's voice shook with an emotion Lena couldn't decipher. "I had to call J'onn in to hold Kara back from doing something very stupid. We almost lost you." She breathed in sharply. "Now is not the time for confessions and blame games. As your doctor, I order you to rest."

She picked up the cup and held it out. Reluctantly, Lena took a few short sips. Her head fell back against the pillow in exhaustion. She closed her eyes, but all she saw was the Kryptonite cage.

***

She woke next to voices whispering by her bed. One she recognized as Kara and the other took her a few seconds. Nia? She hadn't interacted with the girl much. She kept her eyes shut, the pain too much to handle speech.

She wished they'd go away. Leave her to mope in pieces.

"Kara, you need rest too. Lena will be okay. She's under Alex's supervision."

"I'm not leaving her side. I can't." Kara's voice sounded uncharacteristically wild. "She died, Nia, she died for almost twenty seconds. No, I have to make sure she's okay."

"I get that, okay? It scared all of us too. We can take shifts or something. Make sure someone is always at her bedside." Nia shuffled further from her bed. "Didn't you say we were stronger together? El Mayarah?"

Kara breathed in sharply. "Using my family motto against me?"

"Hey, just using my full arsenal here. Like you taught me." Nia paused and sighed. "I didn't want to say this, but Andrea has been on me today about our articles. The only reason we even have this extension is because it's Lena in the hospital. Don't make the situation worse."

"Maybe I'll just quit."

"And never be a reporter again?"

"Lena is more important."

"Oh my god, Alex wasn't kidding. You're like a steel mountain. Not budging. Do you think Lena would want you to just throw away everything you've worked for?"

"Lena is more important than anything."

"Even your life?"

"Yes."

"Jesus, Kara."

"No!" Lena winced at he pain from her outburst. Both Nia and Kara turned to her. "No, god no, I'm not more important than your life."

Pain arced down her back, and she blinked back tears, but still they crept free anyway.

"Yes you are!" Kara shot back. "I'm nothing without you, Lena! I just can't. I can't lose you again."

Lena growled deep in her throat, and gathered up every once of energy she had. If she had to walk out of here to prove her point, then fine.

Except, no matter how hard she tried, her legs refused to respond. In fact, she felt only a vague tingling, more in the thighs and not anything below.

She pushed herself upright, which sent pain shooting down her back. Her hands gripped her legs. They were definitely there, but she couldn't get them to move.

"Lena! You shouldn't be moving yet!" Kara said, frantically. "Please, rest." She moved to push her hand against Lena's shoulder.

In response, Lena pushed back, but that succeeded in collapsing into Kara's arms. "Kara," she growls, "if you don't go out there and do your job, I will verbally berate and flay you alive."

"Um, Andrea already does that," Nia said.

"She's too soft," Lena grumbled.

"That sounds a bit like you're telling on yourself," Nia said. When Lena shot her a glare, Nia took a step back. "And I'll just be getting Alex, bye!"

The door swung shut behind her.

Kara gently laid Lena back in the bed, and to her dismay, she didn't have the strength to protest. "I'm going to stay here until you're better."

Lena wanted to yell at Kara. To get her to stop whatever this was. But the pain crackled through Lena's body, and she couldn't think coherently. Instead, to her horror, she wept, her only intelligible words, "I can't, I can't, I just can't."

Kara tenderly held her through it, her hand smoothing back her hair. She didn't say anything, just stayed there, until Lena, exhausted, tumbled back into blessed unconsciousness.

***

Time held no meaning. Depending on the culture, it either flowed like a river in one direction, or it flowed in a circle. Even cosmology couldn't decide if the universe was cyclic -- a big bang, expansive era, then the big crunch -- or ever expanded in all directions endlessly.

Lena felt trapped at the center of some sort of timeless hell. The pain left her short-tempered, and the fact Kara refused to give up on her also grated on her.

"Why can't you see the truth?" Lena shouted at one point. "My body is broken, Kara! I'd rather be dead!"

Kara had stared at her, but then she clenched her fists. "Don't you dare speak ill about yourself." Her voice dropped to a dangerous low tone that did more for Lena's libido than it did to intimidate. "You are beautiful. Gorgeous. And you're hurt and healing. You deserve life, and I will always fight to save you."

Lena didn't know what to say in response.

Because Kara had an alarming point.

She had fought to save Lena over and over again. No matter what her family threw at them, no matter how many assassin's sought her death, no matter the attacks on her person, Kara had been there. Or she'd send Supergirl, which had actually been Kara.

"Was it really you flying me when I was poisoned?" She asked instead. Her voice came out weak, irritatingly timid.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was. I -- I was terrified. Had to use ice breath on you to induce hypothermia to give Alex's medicine time to work." Kara slumped in her chair. "I almost told you then when you said you remembered the flight."

"Why didn't you?"

"James was shaking his head ..."

"I didn't ask about James, Kara. I asked about you. Or do you not make decisions for yourself?" Irritation crept into her voice.

"That's the problem, Lena! Don't you get it?" Kara threw her hands in the air. "I didn't trust myself, all right? So yes, I did rely on others to make decisions, especially about the whole Supergirl identity. I can't afford to mess up. I can't afford to lose anyone else. I just can't."

Lena struggled to parse Kara's words. The pain ricocheted up like it always did before Alex or a nurse came and swapped IV bags for new ones. "What do you mean you didn't trust yourself?"

"Do you know what happened before you came to National City? The attack by my people? That was my Aunt." Kara said bitterly. "My Aunt and her husband wanted to -- Rao, it doesn't matter. I trusted her, and I was wrong. People got hurt. So many died. Alex had to kill my own Aunt because I couldn't do it. Nothing stopped her and Non. And then, and then..."

She shot to her feet and began to pace. "You're not the only one who can make kryptonite, okay? Max Lord did it first but he made red."

"Red? What does--"

"It was horrible. I -- I got infected and it shut off my inhibitions, it made every bad thought, every intrusive nightmare, come to life. I acted it all out, and people got hurt. I almost killed Cat Grant. Alex and J'onn used every Kryptonite they had to capture me."

Lena blinked. She didn't remember reading that in the papers, but then she'd been very distracted by shit in Metropolis at the time. "Were you in control?"

"I don't know." Kara dropped back into her chair and put her head in her hands. "It haunts me to this day. I hear the word synthesized Kryptonite and I start to have flashbacks. I can't let that happen again."

"That's why you acted that way during the worldkillers crisis." Lena didn't ask it as a question.

Kara's shoulders slumped. "I had to be in control. That way no one could get hurt. No one would die. And that was out of my control. But I was trapped back in the Red-K nightmare, and I didn't realize it at first. I -- i was wrong. I shouldn't have acted out my trauma on you. I'm sorry for that too. It hit home how bad I fucked up in the elevator when we were on our way to comfort Sam."

No wonder Kara had looked so upset when she said she'd never trust Supergirl again. She sighed and rubbed her fingers against the IV line. "I tend toward dramatics and can be terribly petty," she said finally. "You tried to talk to me as Supergirl to fix it, and I refused to listen. So as Sam likes to remind me, two wrongs don't fix anything. I'm sorry too."

Kara tentatively touched Lena's hand. "Thank you for this conversation. How are you feeling? Are you in pain again?"

"Alex mentioned internal bleeding once and you're hovering again?" Lena grumbled.

Kara winced. "I just want you to be well."

Lena sighed. "I know, Kara. And yes, I'm in pain. How about you get your sister, and read more of your book out loud?"

She wasn't sure what started that activity, but listening to Kara read soothed her far more than she'd like to admit.

"Okay." Kara shot to her feet. A breeze whipped Lena's hair into her face, Kara vanishing.

Still not used to it, but she was getting closer at least.

***

Two weeks and four days after she woke in Alex's medical ward, Lena was examined by Alex and a Doctor Starr. Part of that exam required her to sit in a wheelchair, which hurt far more than Lena wanted to admit.

Alex's checked her reflexes with her little hammer, while Starr listened to Lena's lungs.

It was irritating, but she was slowly accepting this was her reality now.

At least, the odd Kryptonian container had been used only once since she first saw it. She had a stress induced bout of hemolysis, which didn't surprise her. She knows she's prone to anemia. Kara's frantic reaction had Alex banning her from the room for two whole days.

It should have brought relief, but Lena missed Kara by day two.

As the doctors conferred, a startling thought hits Lena. "Alex, has Kara ever had a loved one in a condition as bad as mine?"

Alex turned and crossed her arms. "When I got sick from Pestilence, I'm told Kara was uncharacteristically erratic. But I was only sick a day or so. So I guess, no, not for this long."

"Hmmm." Lena turned the thought over in her head. "I think I know how to calm her down."

"Oh?" Alex had adopted a neutral tone since Lena's high-on-pain-meds confession. "And what wonderful idea does my patient have today?"

"Take me around wherever we are. Let her see me outside this room." She attempted a smile. "Yes, I'm in a pain, don't ask. Just let her see visible progress."

"I'd advise against..." Dr. Starr started to say but Alex held up her hand.

"No, she's right. Kara needs to see progress. And you are progressing, it's just not really that visible right now." Alex stepped closer and leaned over Lena. "But I need full honesty. Are you positive you want to do this?"

Lena nodded. "Yes. If it helps Kara, then yes."

"I'm not asking about Kara. Will this help you?"

Lena tilted her head puzzled. "I suggested it to aid Kara not myself?"

"Oh my god." Alex threw up her hands. "Do you see what I'm working with here?" She said to the other doctor. "They're both idiots."

Lena sniffed a trifle offended by that statement.

"I mean, yes, you have a pertinent point." Dr. Starr chuckled. "Maybe just indulge her?"

"Not you too. Go right the report." Alex flicked her wrist at the other doctor. "And you," she pointed to Lena. "Tell me immediately if your pain increases. Or else."

Lena knows an empty threat when she sees one. She gives a half-shrug. "Sure. Now shall we?" She waves her good arm toward the door.

Alex grumbled under her breath and pushed her through the door. A certain satisfaction warmed Lena's heart. She'd won against Alex, which was not an easy feat.

The hallways outside the medical room were all a dull grey. The austere architecture painted this place as the DEO. Ah, so that was why she was under Alex's care.

"Lena?! Alex!" Kara skidded to a halt near the door to the control room. Lena can hear the voices of agents and machinery beyond it. "Oh gosh, should... should you be up? Are you okay, Lena? Do you feel any pain? Oh Rao, Alex, what if she's in pain?"

"Kara..." Alex started to say, irritation in her voice, but Lena cut her off.

"Kara, listen to me." Lena held up her hand. "I suggested this. Needed some fresh air. I'm fine. Honest." Yes, her pain has increased a bit, but honestly, she needed out of the medical room.

Plus, this served a dual purpose of showing Alex that perhaps she could go home to rest and do outpatient or whatever happens next for recovery.

Kara wrapped her hands around Lena's, holding it gingerly like she's glass. "Are... are you sure?" She looked so pathetic, that Lena relented.

"Kara, darling," Lena said, gently, "If we're going to get through this, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

Kara nodded. "Anything."

"Then trust me when I say I'm okay. Don't assume what I need. Always ask. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I can do that." A hint of relief coated Kara's voice.

Lena realized an important fact about Kara that day. When dealing with a situation Kara couldn't control, Kara needed tasks to do. Even simple ones worked.

She tested this hypothesis the next three days. Her conclusions confirmed her hypothesis correct. Kara truly did a lot better with tasks.

If there was one thing Lena excelled at, it was crafting a list of tasks. Whether she got them all done in a day? That was another story.

On the fourth day, Alex stopped in for the usual check-up. "So, you've really figured my sister out, huh?"

Lena studied Alex carefully, uncertain if the question was in good faith or not. "I'm reconciling all parts of her in my head. I can't say that means I have her figured out."

"No, I mean, you solved it." Alex gestured to the building beyond the medical ward. "She has calmed down by a million percent. I no longer feel the need to kick her off the planet twenty times a day."

Lena couldn't help but chuckle at the image of Alex's boot knocking Kara into orbit. "That annoying, huh?"

"God, yes. I get it, I do. You really scared us. All of us. Even Andrea Rojas has been in my business. And now Sam demands to know when she can visit." Alex scribbled her vitals onto the chart by her bed. "So now Kara is dealing with them. Using your phrases too. 'Don't assume, ask Lena.' I can actually do my duties for once."

"About Andrea and Sam..." Lena leaned back in the bed, fatigued by the act of sitting up. Which was incredibly annoying, but fine, that was her life now. "It's been a few weeks. How are you handling those businesses? I only spoke with Jess once."

"I'm not giving your phone back yet," Alex scolded. "I can't trust you with it. You'll try to solve world hunger or something."

"I was merely answering my emails and..."

"Nope, no work. You can't heal if you're working." Alex capped the marker and stuck it to the board.

Lena rolled her eyes. "Alex, I am dying of boredom. Answering emails won't kill me."

"You weren't though. You were heads deep in programming, and then wondering why your pain was so bad, you couldn't move for a whole day." Alex shook her head. "Can't trust you. And I'd like to."

The way she said those last few words had a seriousness that contrasted her slightly playful, scolding tone from earlier.

"How do I build up that trust then?"

"Prove to me you're serious about this." Again that sense the conversation had a double meaning. Something more than just her health. "I need to see you acknowledge your limits."

Lena frowned. "This conversation isn't just about me, is it?"

Alex put her hands on her hips, oddly similar to Supergirl, except Alex held far more authority in the stance. "Perceptive. Yes. I asked Kara about your confession. It wasn't easy. She finally told me everything. You put her in Kryptonite, Lena."

Lena looked at her hands. "I know," she said, softly, "I remember. I had hoped it wouldn't come to that. It's why I programmed in the sun burst."

"Which is great that you did that, but Lena, can I trust you to never trap Kara in Kryptonite again?"

Lena clenched her fists. "Yes." She met Alex's gaze, resolutely. "I love Kara, Alex. I recognize I fucked up. I lashed out exactly how Lex wanted. Played into his hands again. So as a big fuck you to my brother, I'm going to stick by Kara's side, and do what I can to aid her."

Alex studied her silently for a long moment. "Okay."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Just okay?"

"Yes, just okay. Geesh, want a rambling speech, ask my sister." Alex walked to the door but paused, her hand on the doorknob. She looked back at Lena. "You're good for her, Lena. Kara has never been as happy than when she's with you. Please don't fuck this up."

"I thought you didn't do rambling speeches?" Lena smirked at Alex's raised middle finger.

"Oh, before I forget, you feel up to start physical therapy?"

"Is this where I prove to you I will honor my limits?" Lena asked dryly.

"You could say that. So a yes?" When she nodded, Alex smiled. "Great."

After the door shut, Lena sat in the semi-darkness and wondered if she could trust Kara and Alex. Could she trust any of them?

She raised her blankets and looked at her legs. They tingled now, but moving them caused pain bursts at the base of her spine. She didn't trust Lilian to help her with this. She did trust Sam, but after ghosting her and not answering her calls for months?

She dropped the blanket and laid down. She needed to trust them, and that scared her far more than any promise to a prickly sister of a Superhero. Trust was not something she did well. It tended to backfire on her, and yet, what else could she do?

Trusting no one but an AI had gotten her exactly nowhere. Other than more heartbreak and stuck in the medical ward, disabled from waist down for who knew how long. She truly did want to get better, but was she hiding from the world by half-assing this recovery?

Kara didn't know the extent of her treachery, or how she'd used the DEO to test the mind-control she'd uncovered from the Martian. Yes, that test had helped Andrea, but it also showed that her programming had a troublesome flaw. One she never quite ironed out. Hope's calculations had been her last ditch effort.

It led her to the same question that had haunted her since she woke up here: why were they helping her? Only her own paranoia answered that question, which wasn't helpful.

She closed her eyes and let the darkness of pain pull her out to sea.

***

When she next opened her eyes, the light was muted even further.

A person snored softly in the chair next to her bed. She turned her head to see Kara slumped there in jeans and a purple button-down shirt. Her blond hair spilled in loose ringlets around her face, and a book perched in her lap.

It was the book she'd been reading out loud to Lena: Poseidon's Wake, a fascinating science fiction romp about aliens, human's hubris, what constituted sentience, and sentient elephants.

On the table just behind Kara's chair, a vase with flowers sat with a card in front of it. She picked it up, the paper rough against her skin. Inside and decorating every page was kind 'get well soon' words from Nia, Brainy, Kelly, and all of Kara's friends.

The people she'd deceived in her single-minded quest of revenge. Her stomach twisted with nausea. The card slipped from her fingers to fall onto her stomach. A small card sat taped to the vase, and that one just read, "From Sam and Ruby."

She sucked in a sharp breath and winced at the pain in her left side.

Kara flinched and sat upright, her eyes blinking sleepily. "Lena?" She focused on her bed and smiled in relief. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

The question bubbled out of her before she could stop herself. "Why is everyone helping me?"

"What do you mean?" Kara reached up to fiddle with her glasses, but she wasn't wearing them so the gesture became tucking hair behind her ear instead.

"I deceived all of you. I hurt you." Lena's voice turned bitter. "Alex said she wants to trust me. That I'm good for you. I knew Kryptonite hurt you and I did it anyway. Why don't they all hate me? Why am I here?"

Kara shrugged. "The cage dropped as soon as you left. Then came your lovely sun bomb thing. I saw the code you used. You programmed that. So that means you never meant to hurt me. And I think you needed to get that all out. I -- I'm sorry it took me so long to understand. So, don't worry, it's okay."

"Okay? Just okay?" Lena couldn't believe her ears. "Kara, I need you to be honest. Why am I your 'exception' to your rules? Why is Alex giving me the shovel talk? What are we to each other?"

Kara sighed. Her fingers drummed against her knee. She took a deep breath and seemed to come to a decision. "Because I love you. I didn't realize how much until our fight. Until I almost lost you." She briefly closes her eyes. "I nearly lost myself to rage. Dunked myself in the ocean to try to calm down. And I couldn't let you die without telling you my last secret."

"Last secret? I -- I know you consider us friends..." Lena had heard Kara say 'love you' before, but this moment felt charged in a way the others did not.

She smiled, sadly. "It's not friendship love. Lena, I love you. Everything about you. I want to be with you in whatever way you'll have me. And if you don't want me around? Say the word and I'll vanish. Well, maybe still save you when needed but only in a professional way I guess."

"Be with me?" God, she was being a parrot again, but the words from Kara's mouth felt unreal. "You love me? And yet deceived me for years?"

Kara slumped in her chair and pulled at a thread on the cuff of her sleeve. "I'm sorry, Lena. I really am."

"Yes, you've said that many times," Lena said. She sighed and picked at her blanket.

For a long moment, she struggled against an absurd urge to cry. Fatigue lined her body and soul, and truthfully? She didn't want to fight Kara or enact revenge any more. Her retaliation hadn't helped her feel better; she'd felt worse instead.

No, maybe she should try the harder road. Talking. God, what would Lillian think of her now? She was going to discuss her feelings instead of of manipulating the universe.

"Did you ever trust me?" Seemed a good place to start.

"Yeah!" Kara nodded. "In most things, and I wanted to trust you about Supergirl. I just." She leaned her head back with a growl of frustration. "At first the DEO pressured me to tell no one, especially you. But then it became about me wanting to be just Kara with you."

"The whole not trusting yourself come into play there?"

Kara nodded. "I let others convince me that not telling you was good. That if I told you, I'd be selfish and ruin a good thing for you."

"Wait, did someone actually advise that?" Lena wrinkled her nose. "Because that's shit advice."

Kara winced. "Mon-el did."

"I see. From now on if someone says lying to me is better for me and honesty is selfishness, just punch them for me, okay?"

Kara blinked at her before bursting into laughter. "Oh Rao, okay, sure, I can definitely do that."

"Great." She imagined Kara punching Mon-el, and it definitely brought more satisfaction than anything she did the past few months. "Do you trust yourself now?"

"I..." Kara hunched down in her chair. "I don't know." She breathed out roughly and a piece of ice formed on her knee. She flicked it to the floor. "When I -- I found you? I lost myself in rage. I killed Rama Khan and his allies. I don't really regret it, but... can I trust myself? Because if you're hurt, I -- I probably should be restrained."

Just as she suspected, guilt threaded through Kara's voice. Lena shifted to the good side, her pain ever present a minor ache from the pain meds. "Will it help to know I trust you?"

Her own words surprised herself. And yet, it was true.

She did trust Kara.

Kara looked up and smiled faintly. "It does actually. I wasn't sure you ever would again."

"Kara, even when I was angry and hurting, I still trusted you with my life. My heart?" She ran a hand through her hair. It needed washing again, which meant asking the evening nurse for help, something she dreaded. "That I couldn't trust you with. But!" She held up a finger to stop Kara's words. She shut her mouth. "I think I'm ready to try. I know this won't be easy. We're both headstrong, but when I'm working with you, I'm a better person. I'd like to find that again."

Kara smiled, tears shining in her eyes. "You feel like home to me. I feel I'm a better person with you too. Even if I'm a bit dramatic about injuries." She rubs her hands on her jeans. "I just, I don't know. I was so worried."

"I know." Lena reached out and touched her wrist. "You've never had someone you love taking this long to recover. A rather intense introduction to mortality, eh?"

"You died for twenty seconds, Lena," Kara whispered.

"Are you focused on that or on the fact I'm alive?"

Kara tilted her head and stared at Lena. "What do you mean?"

Lena waved her hand impatiently, then winced. Her side ached at the movement. "If you focus on that fact and not on the present moment of me, recovering, then you become trapped in the past. You can't move forward, can't plan, and your actions become only reactions. Never a conscious, informed act."

"Oh." Kara tapped her fingers against her leg. "You know, that's a good point. Death has made you wise."

Lena shrugged. "Maybe. I need the reminder myself sometimes."

For a moment, both listened to the drip of the IV.

"I didn't have these powers on Krypton," Kara said suddenly, "I was just a normal kid, well, as normal as the first thirteen year old inducted into the Science Guild could be." A slight smile tinged her lips, but it faded into melancholy.

"You were a scientist?" It surprised her a little.

Kara nodded. "Bred to be so."

"Wait, I'm sorry, bred?"

Kara smiled. "The birth matrix is how we reproduced. It was very rare to have a natural birth like Kal's parents. Usually parents like to edit the child's genes. I was modeled to be a scientist like most of the El family."

Lena hummed thoughtfully. "I'd love to hear more about Krypton, Kara. If you'd like to share." She definitely had questions, though she' wasn't sure how best to ask.

"Thank you." Kara reached out to grasp her hand. "No one has every really said that to me?"

"Seriously?" Lena frowned. "Then consider the offer standing. Whatever you wish to share, I will listen."

"And the same for you. I want to hear what you have to say. Your thoughts. Hopes, dreams, random ideas, anything."

Lena smiles, but one last question still haunts her. "One last question. You've said 'just Kara' a lot. You've always been just Kara to me. Did you think I'd treat you differently if I knew?"

Kara winced visibly. "Yeah? Everyone does. I mean, look at Winn as an example. I wasn't just Kara to him anymore, and he became obsessed with superhero stuff. James knew thanks to Kal. Nia treats me as her superhero mentor. It's just over and over people failed to see me. They saw the cape, and either wanted to be like the cape --"

"James," Lena murmured, thinking of his guardian stunts.

"Or helping the cape. I wasn't just Kara, and I could be that with you, and it felt so good. Like coming home. It's why I can't stay away. I want to make this right, Lena." She yanked the thread free of the cuff. "So, uh, that's why I'll help you with your Myriad plan if you want."

"What?" Lena stared at Kara. "You don't know what it is yet."

Kara shrugged. "So? It's you. I want to help you no matter what. If I have to hang up the cape and go undercover to do it, then fine."

None of Kara's words made any sense to Lena. Her head ached again, and a faint scent of peaches wafted from the pain meds. She tried not to think of her legs.

"The project is dead," Lena said, flatly. "You might as well take Myriad back. It won't happen any time soon. Especially not with this." She waves a hand weakly toward her legs. "I can't feel them yet."

Kara reached over and grasped Lena's hand. The warmth sent a shiver down Lena's spine. "Then I'll help you recover. Whatever you need."

"Kara..." Lena sighs. "What if I hurt you again?"

"I hurt you first," Kara said. She winced, "I mean, not to make a contest of it. But yeah, we hurt each other. So that's a thing we did. But here we are, both of us alive despite it all. And yeah, we might hurt one another again, but I think you're worth it. You're beautiful, Lena, outside and inside. That hasn't changed. I want to work on us if you're game."

Lena recalled her words at the Fortress, said in anguish, "You don't get to tell me who I am anymore." But that had been a lie. She'd wanted so bad for things to be real with Kara. To be loved by Kara. To not have it all snatched away.

She'd wanted to fix it all, but it had not occurred to her she could just talk it through with Kara.

For several long minutes, she quietly breathed and sorted her thoughts. The pain simmered annoyingly, but she wasn't ready to sleep again. Not yet.

"This isn't easy for me," Lena said, carefully. She winced at the pain along her side, but she wanted to get this out. "I wanted to fix the pain. To somehow stop others from hurting one another."

"With your project?"

Lena sighed. "It doesn't matter. Hope was lost and she's needed to run the calculations. And would it have stopped the pain? I don't know. I didn't have time for proper tests. It wasn't ready, but Leviathan kept accelerated my timeline."

"So you sought to end all pain?" Kara tiled her head. "Isn't that kind of... mind control?"

Nausea swirled in Lena's stomach. Those words reminded her of Lex's journals, of his experiments, of his experiments on her. God, Lex really had played her, hadn't he? He knew she'd read his journals, knew she'd turn on Kara for her lies. "It's for the best," she whispered, "that it failed. Lex manipulating me by driving a wedge between us." She fiddles with the strings on the blanket's edge. "He has a habit of snatching away all the good in my life. He tried to destroy what we had. Like a fool I fell for it."

"No, well, maybe for a little while. But we're still here, and we're being honest." She lifted Lena's hand and gently kissed her knuckles. "I understand you might not believe me now, but I'll prove it."

Lena sighed. She wasn't sure what to say to that. The medicine dulled her thoughts, drew back the pain, but now fatigue corded through her body. "You already are. And I want to work on us too." "So where do we go from here?" Kara asked.

Where did they go from here indeed? She knew this was a stupid idea, that she shouldn't allow it, but with the Fortress fight, the assassin, almost dying, surgery, long recovery, and now this?

Lena weakly tugged on Kara's hand. "Ask me later. Right now... can -- can you hold me? I don't want to be alone." Her words came out small and shaky. This asking for things scared her as much as it thrilled her.

"Of course." Kara graced her with one of her winning smiles. She gently moved Lena just enough for her to slip onto the bed next to her. Her arms wrapped around Lena, and warmth embraced Lena from head to toe.

She buried her face in Kara's shirt, and breathed in her vanilla scent.

The anger and pain that had fueled her for months no longer simmered in her gut. Part of her feared giving Kara another chance, but at the same time, her traitorous heart shouted in relief at being in Kara's arms. The hurt hadn't full gone away, but its edges had softened.

"You've always been her exception," Alex had said.

Maybe starting tonight Kara could be her exception. Instead of more revenge plots or running, she'd stay and work on whatever this was between them. No matter how hard it became. Maybe someday soon she can say the words out loud, that she truly did love Kara.

Because even in the fires of hardship and pain, a rock could still become a gemstone.

Epilogue incoming

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝: 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  inspired from the pun book from the last of us, here are some dialogue prompts of various puns. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ for a fungi to grow you must give it as mushroom as possible. ❜

❛ it doesn't matter how much you push the envelope. it'll still be stationary. ❜

❛ what did the mermaid wear to her math class? an algae bra. ❜

❛ people are making apocalypse jokes like there's no tomorrow. ❜

❛ why did the scarecrow get an award? he was outstanding in his field. ❜

❛ what did the triangle say to the circle? you're so pointless. ❜

❛ a book just fell on my head, i only have my shelf to blame. ❜

❛ i tried to catch some fog earlier. i mist. ❜

❛ i stayed up all night wondering where the sun went. then it dawned on me. ❜

❛ diarrhea is hereditary... it runs in your genes. ❜

❛ what did the green grape say to the purple grape? breathe, you idiot! ❜

❛ i'm reading a book on anti-gravity, and it's impossible to put down. ❜

❛ what is a pirate's favorite letter? tis' the c. ❜

❛ i wasn’t originally going to get a brain transplant, but then i changed my mind. ❜

❛ what washes up on tiny beaches? microwaves. ❜

❛ why are frogs so happy? they eat whatever bugs them. ❜

❛ i don't trust trees. they're shady. ❜

❛ i was going to tell you a pizza joke, but it's too cheesy. ❜

❛ i want to be cremated as it is my last hope for a smoking hot body. ❜

❛ there’s a new type of broom out. it’s sweeping the nation. ❜

❛ did you hear about the man who lost his left side? he’s all right now. ❜

❛ what do you call a bee that can't make up its mind? a maybe. ❜

❛ i tried to make a belt out of watches. it was a waist of time. ❜

❛ i got fired from the calendar factory, just for taking a day off. ❜

❛ did you hear about the guy who got hit in the head with a can of soda? he was lucky it was a soft drink. ❜

❛ tequila may not fix your life but its worth a shot. ❜

❛ why are there fences around cemeteries? because people are dying to get in! ❜

❛ thanks for explaining the word 'many' to me, it means alot. ❜

❛ i once ate a watch. it was time consuming. ❜

❛ why are teddy bears never hungry? they are always stuffed! ❜

❛ i don’t trust stairs because they’re always up to something. ❜

❛ never trust an atom, they make up everything! ❜

❛ i couldn't figure out how to put my seatbelt on, but then it clicked. ❜

❛ how do construction workers party? they raise the roof. ❜

❛ what do you call a dinosaur with an extensive vocabulary? a thesaurus. ❜

❛ when a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds. ❜

❛ i made a pun about the wind but it blows. ❜

❛ it's hard to explain puns to kleptomaniacs because they always take things literally. ❜

❛ what did the ocean say to the beach? nothing, it just waved. ❜

❛ i have a joke about chemistry, but i don't think it will get a reaction. ❜

❛ i'm on a seafood diet. i see food and i eat it. ❜

❛ why did the restaurant on the moon get bad reviews? it has no atmosphere.❜

❛ how do you organize a space party? you planet. ❜

❛ i once heard a joke about amnesia... but i forget how it goes. ❜

❛ the frustrated cannibal threw up his hands. ❜

❛ it takes guts to be an organ donor. ❜

❛ why is the mushroom always invited to parties? he's a fungi. ❜

❛ a guy walks into a bar... he was disqualified from the limbo contest. ❜

❛ jokes with punch lines can be painfully funny. ❜

❛ so what if i don’t know what apocalypse means? it’s not the end of the world! ❜

[tanadrin]

Trying to fix all media or all social media is a two order; on the other hand, spending Democratic Party money on socially useful bribery and trying to build up mass politics again in an age of social atomization seems difficult but doable. And it has the advantages, I think, to playing to traditional left of center political strengths, in the same way insular media ecosystems that use fear and paranoia to tickle the lambic system play to the strengths of right-wing politics. You are never going to motivate people toward humanistic solidarity with the same media tools that convince them to fear the other; those are just fundamentally asymmetric goals. But “here’s a cheap daycare, would you like a flyer on political issues relevant to families like yours?” might work.

The question is, are donors really gonna pay for that? The US doesn’t have big political machines anymore, and even the unions that used to support the Democrats are weak and fickle now. Seems like much of politics funding now relies on individual big-name donors, and they want to pay for candidates and campaigns, not far future strategic shifts that may or may not pay off. But hey, Harris raised like a billion dollars in a matter of months; maybe you can make it work with the right leadership!

[i-am-church-the-cat]

you want 917 words on clones and Logan Sargeant? yes you do, keep reading

--

Athletes are freaks of nature. Not everyone can be an athlete, even if they have the drive, passion, and opportunity. You can be too tall for a sport, too short, you shoulders could be too wide, your legs too long. There are a hundred and one genetic variations that can keep someone in competing professionally within the rules of athletics.

So why waste your time on chance? Why put all that money and time in if you can't be completely sure that it's going to be worth it? Wouldn't it be easier to just remove the unknown variable altogether? That way we can truly test how far the human body is able to go.

But when does it stop being human? When you can hand-select the color of a baby's eyes? When you pump the fetus full of drugs? How about when you grow it in a lab? Is it still human then?

Logan Hunter Sargeant was made for fighting. Sargeant Trading payed billions of dollars to create the perfect All-American soldier, the kind you'd find on posters. He was bred for speed, for strength, for durability. He was programmed to follow orders even if it limited his ability to think strategically. Logan was made to be the perfect weapon for the U.S. Government, and in exchange, gain Sargeant Trading back a hundred-fold what they shelled out for him.

But something when wrong in that lab, is what Logan's been told. That while the scientists could make his body perfect for fighting, they couldn't make Logan a perfect fighter. Because the problem with clones, at the end of the day, is that they're still fucking people. And people have feelings.

Weapons aren't supposed to have feelings.

So Logan was a failure. Is a failure, as his uncle likes to remind him. No, not his uncle, Harry Sargeant III has no relation to Logan, whose DNA was cultivated from a variety of donors. Just because Daniel Sargeant took a failed experiment in and raised him alongside his own son, doesn't mean Logan is a Sargeant where it matters.

But what does a weapon that isn't capable of being a weapon supposed to do? Logan can't escape the urge to push his body to its limits, can't ignore the pull towards things that get his adrenaline pumping. His body craves the thrill like an addict, not because of any choices that he made, but because his creators put him together that way.

Racing is the only thing he's ever done that soothed that itch. That kept him from unleashing all his pent up energy as violent outbursts that made him hate himself and scared of his own body. Being in a plane, in a boat, in a four-wheel kart spinning around the edges of a racetrack kept all his atoms soundly inside his body.

Logan couldn't be a soldier, but his body was made for being pushed to his limits. Racing was the only thing that met his threshold for physical activity. Unlike the other kids who had to train their bodies for the pull of gravity, Logan's body was made for it.

Sometimes it felt a little too perfect. Like someone had messed up and made him a racing clone instead of a fighting one. And other times - usually when he was slamming into some barriers and getting the wind knocked out of him - he knew it was all just a happy accident.

The FIA doesn't have any rules restricting clones from competing. Logan's pretty sure that's because no one really knows they exist. They're something from science fiction, maybe some abstract future concept, not a fledgling industry for the rich and ethically defunct. Logan can't imagine ever telling anyone what he is. The thought that someone might think he's a dangerous freak is second to the possibility that someone might think he was cheating, that he wasn't working just as hard as everyone else. Yeah, he lucked out by having a hand-coded body type and rich pseudo-parents, but that can be said for most of the kids on the Formula track.

When Logan wins the World Karting Championship, he knows this is more than just science, nothing like destiny. This was his choice from start to finish.

And he was certainly going to finish it now. He thinks about the sprouts of conversations surroundings clones in professional sports and has to laugh at the thought. If anyone wants to argue that being made for athleticism gave an inherent advantage to a person, they can just point them Logan's way. Billions of dollars went into him. He might have the speed and the strength and the dexterity, but he's a shit fighter and now, a shit racer, too.

Being made in a lab didn't help him when his car was fighting him every step of the way. It didn't help him retain information faster or track the most efficient route around the track. It just made him strong enough to take a hit. And the last two years have proved it. If there's anyone that could be kicked while they were down, it was Logan Sargeant.

He isn't sure what he would do with himself if he doesn't have racing. His body was made to fight but his heart couldn't handle it. His heart yearned to race but his brain couldn't handle it.

He was a twice-failed epitome of human strength. He was made in a lab somewhere. And it didn't fucking matter at all.

[kanansdume]

I feel like we can move away from Leia's main flaw being "anger" and the constant comparisons to Anakin. We can get DEEPER into Leia.

Leia's main flaws to me are that she can sometimes get a little imperious to the point of being condescending, she's fairly slow to trust people (some of which can obviously be explained by her Force sensitivity these days), and that she lets her identity get so wrapped up in the Rebellion that denies parts of herself to the point of maybe causing harm to others she doesn't even realize she's hurting with her distance.

She's someone who's had to learn how to hide beneath a mask for most of her life, masks of different kinds, sometimes the haughty condescension of royalty, sometimes the submissiveness of a loyal Senator, sometimes the grounded determination of the heir to the Father of the Rebellion. She probably relatively rarely gets to be entirely herself because it's just not always safe to do so, there's always something else to be done, someone else who needs her.

She's inherited Bail Organa's righteous passion that guides her every step, a passion to help the people of the galaxy with every atom in her body, and a knowledge that she is not more important than the cause she serves.

She is not, truly, all that similar to her sperm donor aside from some truly skin deep aspects of her. And we can dig deeper into Leia Organa than just "she's angry" now, I think. She's earned it.

[beggars-opera]

Jesus talking to rich people is an adventure

Just had to sprint across the room to take a late call when I realized it was a super rich potential donor on caller id (it's 4:30 on a Friday and I'm dead inside so in a screening mode). Guy lives in Beverly Hills so obviously time zones. He asked for one of the other staff who works in a different building and when I indicated who he needed he said "Oh, [blank] Hilton? Is she of the Hilton Hiltons?" and reader, it took every atom of my being not to reply "No, the Chippewa Falls Hiltons, actually"

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for Sam; further progress in "Match is technically also a Luthor".

The thing parked outside is . . . theoretically a towncar. Theoretically. 

Match doesn’t actually think towncars are typically equipped with obvious armor and subtly “concealed” weaponry as accents, though. At least not the kind that’s clearly designed to handle open warfare, anyway. There are tanks he’s seen that were less prepared for open warfare.

“Right on schedule, Mr. Luthor,” the chauffeur says, then holds the car door open for Luthor as the bodyguard slips into the front passenger seat. Match . . . doesn’t actually know what he’s expected to do here. Obviously the chauffeur’s going to be the one driving, but he’s never ridden in a car; only the kind of transport vehicles the Agenda uses, most of which are military-issue or at least militarized designs. 

The chauffeur raises a pointed eyebrow at him, still holding the door open. Luthor’s already settled into the back of the towncar and seems to be occupied with skimming the contents of a tablet that was left on one of the seats. 

Match . . . doesn’t have any orders. Or even instructions. Or–anything. 

He’s supposed to get in the car, he thinks. It’s the logical deduction, that he’s supposed to do that. 

But no one’s told him to do that. 

Technically, he could still kill any one of them. Kill all three of them, if he’s careful about it. Luthor isn’t going to be able to pull out any kryptonite if he’s having a TTK-induced massive stroke. Technically, he could kill them all and just go back into the facility and–

“‘Joseph’ seems appropriate, but also implies I’m willing to share,” Luthor muses idly, not looking up from his tablet. “But ‘Alexander’ is just too on the nose, and doesn’t account for your brother anyway.” 

. . . “share”, Match wonders? Share what? 

“Superboy isn’t my brother,” he repeats. Luthor spares him a dry look. 

“I’m your father,” he says. “I’m perfectly aware of who your siblings are.” 

. . . Match cannot process a damn word that the man just said, so just gets in the towncar and sits stiffly on the opposite side of the backseat. Luthor returns his attention to his tablet and the chauffeur shuts the door. Match feels an odd sense of–he’d call it “panic”, almost, if he was the kind of thing that could feel anything like that. 

“I suppose one of you could be ‘Alex’ and the other could be ‘Xander’, of course,” Luthor says, tone back to musing as the chauffeur gets in the driver’s seat and starts up the car. “But that also doesn’t seem like much effort, which seems a bit hypocritical of me after I was just judging your respective manufacturers’ lack of it.” 

Match doesn’t know how or even if he’s supposed to respond to any of that. Some of the staff at the Agenda just talked to hear themselves talk; some of them expected him to function as a sounding board. A . . . “rubber duck”, one of the engineers had called him once, laughingly patronizing, though he hadn’t understood the apparent reference. 

“I don’t have a father,” he says. Luthor spares him another dubious look. 

“Oh, don’t you?” he says. “I designed your DNA myself. You’re a masterpiece, by the way, so you’re welcome for that. A perfect blend of Kryptonian and human. Sublimely arranged and maximized.” 

“Biologically, that wouldn’t make you a parent,” Match says. “Superman and Paul Westfield were the only DNA donors to the initial design.” 

“It’d actually make me more of one, in my opinion. But I said a perfect blend,” Luthor snorts dismissively, rolling his eyes. “Paul Westfield’s DNA was anything but ‘perfect’.” 

Match . . . pauses. What does that mean? Who else’s DNA would . . . ?

Oh, Match thinks. 

“The tactile telekinesis is much more effective with Luthor brainpower behind it,” Luthor informs him. “Just for the record. Westfield’s DNA wouldn’t have you capable of crushing cities or splitting atoms.” 

. . . oh, Match thinks again. 

“Splitting atoms?” he asks slowly. 

“I told you,” Luthor says, pointing the tablet pen at him and tapping it against his chest. “You’re a masterpiece. The radiance of a thousand suns. And I am Death, destroyer of worlds.” 

Match doesn’t know how he feels about being called a . . . “masterpiece”. He’s an improvement on Superboy, the Agenda’s told him, but it’s not as if Superboy’s all that impressive a baseline to start from, so . . . 

So he doesn’t know. He’s still a clone either way; a copy of someone else. A copy of a copy, in fact. 

And apparently, he’s also an atomic bomb.

[bacteriashowdown]

Aerobic vs. Anaerobic bacteria

In my last metabolism post, I tried not to get too weighed down in the weeds of cellular respiration. But now I want to talk about it.

I've mentioned before that aerobic bacteria are those that "breathe" oxygen, while anaerobic bacteria are those that don't. But what does it even mean for a bacteria to breathe?

If you read that last post, I think it's quickest to explain like this:

But this process of respiration, that all known lifeforms partake in, deserves a more detailed explanation.

Cellular respiration happens when a cell oxidizes a chemical (called the "electron donor") by transferring an electron from it over to an "electron acceptor". For aerobic bacteria, the acceptor is oxygen. For anaerobic bacteria, it could be any number of things. The electron acceptor is also known as the oxidizing agent.

To clarify some terminology: in chemistry, "oxidation" can be thought of as the process of adding charge to an atom (More precisely, it is increasing the atom's oxidation state, which can also be done by sharing an electron though a covalent bond). The opposite is "reduction", or the process of reducing charge. Since electrons are negatively charged, this translates to oxidation being the removal of an electron, while reduction is the addition of an electron. Thus, for example, an "iron-reducing bacteria" is a species who uses iron as an electron acceptor, and an "iron-oxidizing bacteria" is a species who uses iron as an electron donor.

Let's do an example to tie all the elements of metabolism together: plants. We can pick up from where I left off in the last post, but a bit more accurately. Plants use light for energy (phototrophy), and they are lithotrophic because their electrons are sourced from an inorganic source: water. They are autotrophs because they use carbon dioxide as a carbon source. The aerobic/anaerobic part of respiration happens after all of this, when the energy is extracted from those carbohydrates. Plants use aerobic respiration: the carbohydrate molecules react with oxygen, where they convert back into water, carbon dioxide, and energy in the form of a molecule called ATP (adenosine triphosphate).

This is why my chart clarifies that the respiration is about the final electron acceptor: plants do not use oxygen in the initial reaction, during photosynthesis. It is only when the plant extracts energy from the carbohydrates produced via photosynthesis that oxygen plays an important role.

The reason why we care about whether or not organisms use oxygen in cellular respiration is because, among other things, oxygen is an extremely efficient oxidizing agent. Perhaps that's not very surprising, given the name, but I'm talking on the order of aerobic bacteria being some 15 times more efficient in synthesizing ATP than their anaerobic counterparts.

...okay, I really should talk about ATP. I'm no biochemist, so just know that it is a molecule that can be thought of as the energy "currency" of cells. Fun fact: all cellular respiration, aerobic or anaerobic, is for the purpose of creating ATP. Literally every living thing on the planet makes and uses it.

But if ATP is so good, and it's easier to make with oxygen, then why do we have anaerobic bacteria? Well, the ability of anaerobic bacteria to use electron acceptors other than oxygen makes them remarkably adaptable as organisms. This flexibility allows them to thrive in diverse environments. Also, Earth was not born with the oxygen-rich atmosphere it has today, and so the earliest lifeforms were anaerobic. Only when the cyanobacteria invented oxygenic photosynthesis, and filled the atmosphere with oxygen, was aerobic life able to develop.

Some more common molecules for anaerobic bacteria to use as final electron acceptors are nitrite, nitrate, sulfur, and sulfate. Some bacteria use metals, including iron, manganese, cobalt, and even uranium. Other metals are used in oxidized forms, such as selenium (as selenate) and arsenic (as arsenate), which is toxic to nearly all other life. I think that's pretty neat.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

To summarise, the donor atom becomes softer from top to bottom of a group of the periodic table (figure 11.28).

"Chemistry" 2e - Blackman, A., Bottle, S., Schmid, S., Mocerino, M., Wille, U.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

A first look inside radium's solid-state chemistry

For the first time in history, scientists have measured radium's bonding interactions with oxygen atoms in an organic molecule. Scientists have not measured this bonding before because radium-226 is available only in small amounts and it is highly radioactive (radium is one million times more radioactive than the same mass of uranium), making it challenging to work with. The findings are published in the journal Nature Chemistry. Using oxygen as the donor atom, the researchers developed a way to synthesize and crystallize the radium complex rapidly and on a small scale. Next, they measured the X-ray diffraction pattern of the complex. This pattern is created by the complex's crystal structure and reveals its structure and bonding characteristics.

Read more.

[isfjmel-phleg]

Most of Grant's solo is motivated by his need to learn who his real parents were. But even though he does find out the truth, his relationship with the parents he never got to meet (or rather with the idea of them, with what could have been) never quite gets resolved, and I would love to see this revisited now that he's alive again in recent comics.

After a lot of dead ends and red herrings, Grant finally learns from Vandal Savage, who was responsible for the experimentation done on Grant and for placing him with the Emersons, that his real parents were Al Pratt (the Atom) and his wife Mary James.

Mary was murdered shortly after giving birth, her baby was taken away to be experimented upon, and Al had no idea that any of this had happened. He died in the Zero Hour event, about twelve hours before Grant got dragged in to save the day. They so narrowly missed each other!

Grant, like most of us, isn't well-informed about every obscure Golden Age JSA hero, so this revelation doesn't have any context for him. He knows his parents' names, but feeling actually connected to them...? Not so much.

(Damage #12)

It gets even more complicated with the additional reveal that although the Pratts were his biological parents, he was injected with the DNA of many other superheroes. The primary donor of these was J'onn J'onzz (Martian Manhunter), but Grant is also genetically related to

Barry Allen (Flash)

Johnny Chambers (Johnny Quick)

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

Joan Dale-Trevor (Miss America)

Jay Garrick (Flash)

Ted Grant (Wildcat)

Carter Hall (Hawkman)

Shiera Hall (Hawkgirl)

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

Ted Knight (Starman)

Dinah Drake Lance (Black Canary)

Dinah Laurel Lance (Black Canary)

Libby Lawrence (Liberty Belle)

Charles McNider (Doctor Mid-Nite)

Ray Palmer (Atom)

Alan Scott (Green Lantern)

Rex Tyler (Hourman)

So not only does Grant have parents whom he knows nothing about, but he also has eighteen other "parents," some living, some dead, whose combined DNA has contributed to the powers he's still trying to adjust to. So many good people whose child he could technically be considered, and yet he still ended up raised by the abusive Emersons, who had no real connection to him. It's a lot to process. He is overwhelmed and confused--but he still wants to make contact with his real parents in the only way he can now.

He asks to be taken to their graves.

(Damage #15)

Several of his JSA "fathers" (Jay Garrick, Alan Scott, Ted Grant, and Ted Knight) come to the cemetery to meet him and try to make some sense of the situation. This information is just as new to them as it is to Grant, but they do seem willing to accept him and bring him into the JSA legacy.

This would have been an interesting direction to take the story: having the entire JSA take on Grant as their collective child. He used to have no real family, and now he's part of many families! But this is a dynamic that never gets to happen, for whatever reason. Although Grant does picture something like it in an illusory sequence. It's what he wants: acceptance into a family.

(JLA Titans #2)

But by the end of his solo, he's on his own, although he makes a point of seeking out Albert Rothstein, his father's godson, for information about his father--which we can assume Albert was only too happy to give. He and Al were very close.

We don't get to see here how hearing about how someone else got to have a warm, quasi-parental relationship with the father Grant never got to meet might have affected Grant, but remember this for later.

(Damage #20)

During Grant's hiatus from the Titans, he and Jesse Quick have an encounter with some malevolent beings who impersonate people from their past. Grant sees his parents and hears something from his father that he probably has always wanted to hear.

(Titans 1999 #45)

But he's still enough in possession of his faculties to question it with the painful truth. His father never met him. Never knew about him. Couldn't have cared about him. And what does that leave him with? His foster parents and their "love" that came with abuse.

His real parents died before they could know him. His foster parents failed him. His JSA parents either are dead or haven't done much to actually support him after his time with the Titans and the fight that scarred his face. By the time Grant is a young adult and has joined the JSA (who all seem to have forgotten that they're technically related to him), he's harboring a lot of bitterness toward his father.

(Justice Society of America 2007 #3)

He insists he's not following in his father's footsteps, and he is adamant about not taking up his father's mantle. He is Damage.

There's some inconsistency in this panel (Grant knew nothing whatsoever about Al Pratt before finding out they were related), but it's made clear that the bitterness comes from feeling abandoned and disconnected.

(Justice Society of America 2007 #16)

This resentment comes to a head after Grant has joined the cult of a villain who restored his face. This change in loyalties has caused a lot of trouble for the JSA. Albert tries to do the brotherly thing and talk some sense into Grant by reconnecting him to his father.

(JSA Kingdom Come Special: The Kingdom #1)

Which is something that should have happened a long time ago! Grant should have gotten the opportunity to see his parents' house and artifacts. It would have been a way to connect, especially at a time when he was more open to that, but for whatever reason that didn't happen, and he's in no frame of mind to accept this as a kindness.

Instead he projects his own jealousy onto Albert, destroys his father's belongings, uses a term for his father that is both very rude and inaccurate, and deliberately blows up the entire house.

(JSA Kingdom Come Special: The Kingdom #1)

This level of maliciousness is not normal for him, and of course it's exacerbated by the influence of the villain he's currently following, but still...he's way out of line. This is him at his absolute worst. Accidental destruction has left him with a lot of guilt before. But how does he feel knowing that he let his anger get so out of hand that he obliterated so many physical ties to his father's memory--things that meant something, if not to him, then to his almost-brother?

Well, it's never directly addressed. But he does seem to have some guilt when faced with a memorial to his father.

(Blackest Night #1)

During the Blackest Night event, when Grant encounters the Black Lantern version of his father (basically an evil zombie), "Al" spouts all of Grant's frustrations with him.

And Grant responds with what Albert tried to remind him of. His father didn't know about him. It wasn't his fault. This is some small progress.

(Blackest Night #4)

In fact, if Al had known about Grant, things would have been incredibly different. The Pratts were evidently desperate to have children, since they were still trying for one so late in life (Grant would have been born in the late 1970s, and the Pratts would have been in their fifties by then if they were college-age in the early 1940s, which doesn't make a lot of sense for the established timeline, but whatever the case, the point still stands: older-than-usual first-time parents).

Before Al even married, he was already eager to find out if he and Mary would have kids and his reaction to learning that they'd have "at least one" is excitement.

(The New Golden Age #1)

Was it confidence in this prophecy that kept the Pratts trying for a baby for so long?

If Al's relationship with Albert is any indication of what he would have been like as a father, he would have been a good one. And he would have been outraged if he knew what the Emersons did to his son. If editorial mandate had not ensured that Zero Hour went the way it did, there could have been an eventual father-son reunion that would have taken Grant's solo in a completely different direction.

But that didn't happen, and Al is still dead in the current continuity. Grant, however, was last seen in the company of one of the newly restored lost children. Is he going to adopt a mentor role now? Will that require him to reconsider his own relationships with all the father-figures he had/could have had?

At any rate, a good step for him might be to address his name. After finding out about his complicated parentage, he felt that Damage was the only name he had left. But that's not true.

What if he dropped "Emerson," the name of the people who abused him, a symbol of all that painful baggage he's been carrying around? What if he instead chose to proudly use his birth name: Grant Albert Pratt?

[tsundere-isopods]

Please help me save my cat ~ Ko-fi link included

Edit: Thank every single one of you. I can't express how grateful I am to everyone who donated and reblogged.

Continued edit: Sebastian passed away on March 18th. The money that didn't go to vet bills has gone to his end of life care.

I genuinely think this might be the hardest post I will ever have to write. I have been trying to stay positive and keep hoping for the best, but I can't pretend like my cat isn't sick after this last week. And I am so scared. He's my best friend in the whole wide world. (As I tell him often "My sweetheart, my darling, my love, the light of my life, the wind beneath my winds and in my sails, I love you more than there are stars in the sky, fish in the sea, and atoms in the universe. I have never loved or will love anything more than I love you." Followed usually by "You absolute pest." or "Get up!")

I am apparently incapable of writing this in one go because I can't stop crying. Christ.

For the moment, there is an estimate of $1200 to do the biopsy on his liver (they need to confirm whether it is liver cancer before anything else). This includes ultrasound, x-rays, medications, and having it sent off to the lab. And I can't afford it. Plain and simple. So, I come asking for help. Because I don't want to lose my cat for being poor. It's not fair to him. He's 10, and I promised him that he'd be a fat cat in his late teens before we had to worry.

I don't want to make one of those donation posts where I can't give anything in return. Because I feel like I should show my gratitude somehow. I don't have the ability to draw or paint or anything like that. I have decent sewing skills, and I can write. It isn't much in terms of repayment, but it's all I can offer along with my eternal gratitude and a little bit longer with my best friend.

I have so many pictures of him (even some old ones from when I started this blog, if you can believe it. x x x x)

I am going to link my new Kofi page, and if you would like to donate through PayPal, please just message me. (I'm not comfortable sharing that because of dead naming.) I'm hoping I can offer 250-500 word stories for donors. (Possibly more. We can talk about details.)

For now, enjoy more recent picture of the Light of my Life, Sebastian.

[stark-d]

⚠️ CHARITABLE DRAW ⚠️

U$899.00 in Plugins, read carefully, see how to win and do good!

NOMMAD Media in partnership with Vintage Music Label and with the support of BABY Audio jointly promote a charitable action to help Rio Grande do Sul.

2 Synths and 9 Plugins, approximately valued at U$899.00, will be raffled off, and to win, simply pay attention to the following rules.

🔸 Make a minimum donation of R$25.00 to vakinha.org.br/sos-enchentes-2024

🔸 Send the donation receipt and your Instagram handle to info@vintagemusiclabel.com

🔸 There will be 11 different winners, each winning 1 plugin or 1 synth to be randomly drawn

🔸 The same person cannot win more than once

🔸 Donors’ names will be added to a spreadsheet

🔸 For R$ 25, your name will be included once.

🔸 For R$ 50, your name will be included twice.

🔸 For R$ 75, three times.

🔸 The results will be broadcast live on June 3rd at 10:00 PM Brazilian Time.

🔸 Synths and Plugins from Baby Audio to be raffled:

🔥 ATOMS (Physical Modeling Synthesizer)

🔥 BA-1 (Analog-Modeled Synth)

🔥 TRANSIT (Transition Designer)

🔥 CRYSTALLINE (Reverb Plugin)

🔥 SMOOTH OPERATOR (Signal Balancer)

🔥 SPACED OUT (Delay-Reverb Hybrid FX)

🔥 IHNY-2 (Compressor)

🔥 TAIP (AI-Powered Tape Saturator)

🔥 SUPER VHS (80s Nostalgic Channel Strip)

🔥 COMEBACK KID (Delay Plugin)

🔥 PARALLEL AGGRESSOR (Processing Suite)

DONATE.

YOUR HELP CAN MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE.

R$25.00 IS EQUIVALENT TO U$4.87.

IT MAY NOT SEEM LIKE MUCH, BUT IT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE.

[seafoamreadings]

~hello to you from my monastery of hydrogen atom perturbations~

taking a lil study break to let yall know i am *100%* caught up on paid readings, my ask box, this week's horoscopes, and patreon posts. i will not be putting my etsy shop into vacation mode just yet but i do have an exam (on said perturbations), a big advising appointment, a final project (on other, related perturbations), a flight and a familial visit, a birthday, and then a flight back, much dreaded grading to catch up on, a vote to stand in line for, and some fancy dinner with a scholarship donor coming up, so *i will still be slow to get things done around here sorry*. i may go ahead and put the etsy on vacation mode at some point if it gets too overwhelming but meanwhile for the patient among you i *could* really use your support and would love the excuse to like, not grade, so please do not hesitate to place orders if you want one. if the shop closes for a bit, i will still work diligently on any purchases made before that point of course.

yours in all perturbed-ness,

happy jupiter-uranus conjunction,

seafoam~