#happy supercorp sunday Tumblr posts

[sheltereredturtle]

not so secret flirting

[rustingcat]

Can we talk about the cello scene from @ekingston 'The Shape of Soup'?

Because I need to talk about the cello scene.

I'm NOT over the cello scene!

[wolfie-bee]

finally posted one of my twitter fics from a year ago to ao3 today. It's been altered just a bit bc I write too much. happy supercorp sunday to those who celebrate ❤️💙

tension

[theredcapeofk]

happy supercorp sunday 

[mrsluthordanvers]

Supercorptober 2022

Leaves

Imagine Kara and Lena sneaking pictures of each other.

Read on AO3

It’s not uncommon for Lena and Kara to sneak pictures of each other. Both of their phones are filled with pictures they’ve taken of each other over the years.

At first it’s just Lena casually snapping photos of Kara and their friends during game nights. One or two of them popping up in the superfriends group chat much to everyone’s delight. Lena manages to keep herself out of most photos until she and Kara start dating.

Once they start dating, Kara notices Lena’s camera is pointing in her direction more and more often. It doesn’t take long before Kara is holding up her phone in silent question, laughing when Lena rolls her eyes fondly and holds a position while Kara quickly takes a picture.

It becomes somewhat of a habit after that. The two of them simply snapping pictures when the moment strikes.

Kara with a potsticker halfway to her open mouth.

Lena wedged into the corner of their couch reading a book in a pair of sweatpants and thick rimmed glasses.

Kara in their bedroom buttoning up her shirt in front of the window, back lit by the rising sun.

Lena lounging in the tub with an excessive amount of bubbles, a glass of wine dangling from her fingers, and her feet propped up along the corner.

Even now, when Kara is running late to meet her wife she can't fight the temptation to snap a photo of Lena.

Her fingers drift to her pocket the moment her eyes land on Lena sitting on their park bench. Her wife hasn't spotted her yet, her chin pointed in the opposite direction as Lena watches a little girl be happily pulled along by a dog much bigger than herself as her parents follow a short step behind.

She's dressed in a designer knit sweater and brown leather boots that go over the knees of her jeans, looking much more cozy than she has any right. The sun hasn't quite started to set yet, casting Lena in gold as it catches in the yellow leaves around her.

Kara barely has time to snap a picture before Lena is lifting her tea to take a sip as she looks around. Kara knows she's been spotted when Lena smiles and lifts her hand to pat the empty spot on the bench beside her. The moment she sits Lena's cool fingers wiggle against her ribs until they settle in the crook of her elbow and she’s pressed up against Kara’s side with a sigh. Her free hand using her cup to motion towards the little girl now holding onto the leash with both hands stretched in front of her as she runs behind her dog.

"She makes me think of you as a kid." Lena smiles, laughing joyfully when Kara pokes her in the ribs in retaliation.

Day 1 - Summer Day 12 - Evening Day 6 - Leaves

[ekingstonart]

“Come on Kara, you’re making us late.”

“You’re saying that as if there’s anywhere else in the world I’d rather be right now.”

“Sap.”

“Yes.”

[ekingston]

The Shape of Soup (rated M)

Lena looks at her, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “You know,” she confides, leaning in close, “I am your boss’ boss. There’s no end to the strings I could pull for you.”

Kara huffs out a breathy laugh. This kind of work-related banter at last feels like familiar ground, and Kara wants to kneel down and kiss it with relief. “Buying the company to save my job feels a little bigger than ‘pulling strings’,” she retorts. “And, I’m sorry, but weren’t you the one who worried about showing favoritism?”

“Are you saying I shouldn't?” Lena’s voice lilts out of the corner of her mouth, drawing Kara’s eye to one of her glinting cuspids. “Imagine the gossip,” she drawls, “if the editorial staff somehow made the connection between the favors I’ve done you, and me asking you to come to my apartment and take off your clothes.”

Kara feels as if she’s been blindfolded and spun around violently a few times. There’s something unmistakably predatory now in the set of Lena’s jaw, and Kara is getting the distinct impression that Lena is waiting for Kara to do something about it.

But she can’t for the life of her figure out what that something might be.

-

In which Kara makes a tiny new enemy, Alex has an actual functioning gaydar, and Lena breaks up with James only to immediately start dating someone else. And Kara is fine! Except for the part where she’s really, really not.

[heeeygracie]

A follow-up on the switch drawing. Comm’d by @kikuricorp after seeing one of the replies to that drawing on twitter.

Happy supercorp sunday! 🥳

[rainbow-rebellion]

Happy Supercorp Sunday! Saw this instagram story by Nicole Coenen and couldn’t help myself

Going to come back to color and refine it at some point, but I have other projects I want to focus on for a little bit.

Anyways, hope y’all enjoy it!

[rustingcat]

Had the absolute pleasure to work on this commission for fazedlight fic Darkness in All Things.

Always love a take on dark Kara

Commissions || ko-fi

[wolfie-bee]

Happy Supercorp Sunday! ❤️💙 Just reposting the character study I'd done on metallo lena:

the pieces of me (cling to you)

Summary:

"To know me is to know pain, Supergirl." Lena says simply. "To know me is to know that coincidentally, on the same day you disappeared, my helicopter was blown out of the sky."

Lena's words land their intended blow. Supergirl flinches, guilt etched across her face like Lena had just damned her to Hades. And maybe she did.

"To know me," she continues, stalking forward once more, watching in sardonic glee as the veins in Supergirl's body light up once more."is to understand that I don't care about what if's and altruistic Supers who also want to do no harm." She says, pausing when Supergirl’s prone form is but an inch from her boot.

Or

What if Metallo Lena meets Supergirl and feels a strange connection to her that she couldn't identify the source of? And what if she kept Supergirl around long enough to explain this strangeness to her?

written for scbb 2023

[theredcapeofk]

Tender morning

[sango-blep]

happy supercorp sunday drawpile with @bigmammallama5

[weinzapfel]

Happy Supercorp Sunday ♡

[sssammich]

fic: let there be another day

inspired by this fantastically angsty gifset of a supercorp AU. happy supercorp sunday yall

thanks x

---

The days transform steadily, selfishly, into weeks. Until the weeks have amounted to six months of nothing. Nothing between them but a phantom line of what they’d been to each other, once upon a time.

There is a crater in Lena’s heart, a botched excavation of the way she’d willed herself to forget Kara, to protect the two of them from the ruthlessness of her family. So she’d cored herself first, hoping to beat her brother and mother to the punch. Yet Kara had dug herself further into her heart, straight into her marrow. 

So she failed, in the end, to rid herself of the woman she’d loved with her whole being. 

But it’s gotten easier, in a way, existing in this reality where she had to deny herself the chance for happiness if it meant her happiness could live. 

Her family has continued to terrorize her, but she’s acclimated. Expected it, really. Their efforts of trying to eliminate the few people who have been able to reach the fortress of her heart have now since changed to recruiting her into the fold of the family business. 

She now only functions to keep L-Corp as an entity of good despite her family’s best attempts at compromising her work. It’s fine, because she has accepted that her work will be her life. Her love—her grief—has become the shape of late nights in front of her computer, of half-filled decanters as she oversees expense reports, of dry-cleaned power suits and a lethal red lipstick as armor worn in superfluous business meetings. 

It’s worth it, she reasons, when she catches sight of Supergirl zooming past her window to save the day once more. 

—

Lena should have known that Lex and Lillian are simply biding their time until they strike. The last couple of months of relative quiet was not a sign of reprieve. So when the glass of her office doors break and splinter into tiny crystalline pieces, her heart aches not in fear, but in disappointment. 

She’s never had a death wish and would never wish this hurt upon herself, but the amount of threats to her life has surpassed her age. She thinks that maybe if both Lex and Lillian simply just got it over with, that she can get some goddamn rest. But she knows why she fights and why she keeps going. If only to spite her family, if only so that her sacrifice isn’t in vain. 

Another explosion erupts and throws Lena partway across her office, her head hitting the corner of her desk with a thud. She opens her eyes and her vision blurs, her head throbbing with pain, her body tense and sore all at once. Distantly, she can hear the fire alarm go off just as the sprinklers start shooting off water and flooding her office. 

She attempts to stand and find an exit, but her body betrays her intentions, buckling under her weight as she’s sprayed with water all around her. She falls onto her knees and subjects herself to crawling towards the exit with only but reckless determination and an almost-extinguished hope that she will make it out of this alive. 

Before she can take another step forward, there’s a whooshing sound that fills her already ringing ears and suddenly, warmth envelopes her. 

She sighs in resignation and gratitude when she feels the familiar weight around her. Lena knows before she opens her eyes what has engulfed her so safely, so securely. It cuts her heart just as it heals it, and she is in a loop of pain and joy. 

She wants to open her eyes, truly, to look into ocean eyes and a field of golden grass. But she is in pain and she is hurting. Her only course of action is to keep her eyes closed as strong arms grab hold of her—gently, always so gently—and whisks her out of her now compromised and ruined office. 

—

When she comes to, she finds herself in a secluded and private examination room of the National City Hospital, discretion of the highest priority as a prominent public figure. It’s one she’s been in before, from a past attempt at her life. It’s almost something like a comfort, this familiar space that has seen her bruises, cuts, and scrapes. 

The door swings open and she hears Kara behind her begin to make her exit. She doesn’t look up but when she catches sight of the red cape just by the bed, she holds up a hand and stops the movement altogether. 

She only lets go when the doctor looks down from her clipboard and settles on the rolling stool, the creak of the leather as she rolls closer to Lena. 

She allows the doctor to do what she does best, intently listening to the sound of the squeaking stool and the crinkling of the paper of the examination bed as doctor works.  

A mild concussion, some cuts and bruises. It could have been worse, she’s told. It always could have been worse and she wants to yell at Dr. Shapiro that this feels pretty close to the worst. Still, she listens carefully as her doctor explains how fortunate she is for surviving after the second and third explosions completely decimating her office. 

“Third explosion?” she asks, this information brand new to her. 

“Mm,” the doctor hums. “The second blast was the reason for your concussion, but according to reports, the third blast was close to you and would have knocked you prone and done serious damage had you not found cover.” 

Lena tries very hard not to twist her aching body and look over her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Doctor.” 

The doctor looks at her meaningfully before glancing over Lena’s right shoulder and placing a hand on hers, squeezing, and then letting go. 

The door closes with a quiet click, but instead of an exhaled deep breath, she holds herself tense. She shuts her eyes and listens to the way the superhero makes just enough noise so Lena knows where she is. First, from the chair she’d been occupying, then the sound of boots against the linoleum flooring, then the swish of the cape as it catches against the corner of the examination bed and back down again. 

“Where can I take you?” 

She opens her eyes to the setting sun, to saltwater ocean, to a small smile she hasn’t allowed herself to witness in six months. 

She doesn’t know what’s safest, what her family is planning, what the total damage is. She needs her phone, she needs access to her company, she needs—

“Can I go with you?” is what she says. 

Kara studies her, like the horizon staring back, and nods. She opens her hand, the thumb loop of her suit wrapping around her palm, and offers it to Lena. 

She takes it, sliding her unsteady hand in place and breathes when Kara clasps their hands together. 

—

Kara’s apartment smells the exact same. 

She does not comment on this, though it’s the most prevalent thought in her mind. Kara lets her walk in first, speeding to the lamps and switching them on until the apartment is bathed in faint golden light. Fitting. 

“Get cleaned up. I’ll have some spare clothes for you right outside the bathroom.” Kara passes her a towel, and she hugs it to her chest. 

The water scalds her skin, stings the open scratches and cuts. And she revels in it, her alabaster skin reddening under the downpour of it. She savors it until the shower sputters a little and the hot water becomes tepid then becomes cold. She squeals and jumps away, hitting herself against the side of the shower stall and knocking half of the soaps and hair products off the shelf. 

Kara is there in an instant, opening the door and getting soaked herself, trying to protect her. 

Naked and broken, she looks up to the setting sun that is Kara’s concerned face, and then she starts laughing. 

“I—the hot water ran out.” 

Kara exhales, that cold water matting down her hair on her forehead as she protects Lena from the downpour. “Sorry, I never did call the landlord about it.” 

She turns off the water behind her and steps out of the shower stall to pick up Lena’s towel for her. She opens the towel and turns away. 

You’ve seen it all before, she wants to say, but doesn’t. Instead, she takes the towel and wraps it around herself, the cold beads of water from her hair clinging to her neck, her shoulder blades. 

Kara steps aside, offers her a shy smile, and leaves wordlessly. Lena listens to the way she walks around the apartment, the clattering of the plates on the table. 

She steps out and smiles when she finds spare clothes placed on a stool right outside the bathroom door. 

When she next steps out of the bathroom, she is wearing Kara’s oversized shirt with a faded cartoon drawing of National City State Fair on it and a spare set of her pajama pants that she didn’t realize she’d forgotten, she'd thought Kara would have gotten rid of. 

The spread of Chinese food on the coffee table is modest, but familiar. 

She takes a seat in the spot she once proclaimed as hers, and accepts the plate from Kara’s grasp. They eat in silence with only the sound of the television playing on in the background. 

Kara watches her—studying her, Lena’s sure—but doesn’t say anything. She talks about her week because Lena had asked, and so she gives it to Lena. They clear their plates, then she trails after Kara to the kitchen, parking herself on the kitchen island. Kara seems to anticipate her and passes a pint of Cherry Garcia towards her with a spoon on the lid. 

“Good for concussions, I heard,” Kara offers, a twitch of a smile on her lips.  

She laughs at that, surprised, but accepts the ice cream, opening the lid and taking a spoonful. “That’s tonsillitis.” 

Kara shrugs but takes a spoonful of her own Rocky Road on the opposite side of the kitchen island. So much of right now exists superimposed to how things had been before, how their lives had been so entwined, so integrated. It is unnerving as it is comforting, and Lena accepts that for today, at least, she has to accept the disorientation. 

Eventually, “here. I charged your phone. I’d call Sam first, then Jess.”

There is distance between them, far greater than the kitchen island in front of her, and it shows itself for the first time now, here. After everything.  

“Kara, I—” 

“I need to fill Alex in on everything. Let her know you’re alright. I’ll be right outside.”  

She nods, glances at her phone and the laptop that Kara slides across the kitchen island, and watches as Kara walks out the front door. 

For a solid hour, she works through everything she can considering her mild concussion. She touches base with her assistant, with her team, and finds that they have taken care of everything for her. She sighs in relief, shuddering into her hands when Sam and Jess let her know that they have everything handled, that all they want for her is to rest, that the investigation into her family’s attempt at assassinating her might finally have some legs with some information they’d discovered during the cleanup. 

She sighs, sniffling into the back of her hand and tells them goodnight before she closes her phone and sobs into her hands, the day finally wearing her down. 

She doesn’t startle when arms wrap around her, the press of a strong body kneeling in front of her as she cries into the crook of Kara’s neck. She grabs fistfuls of Kara’s shirt as her tears soak through the cotton. 

Kara only holds onto her, rubbing her back and gently cradling Lena in her arms. Soft shushing filters through Lena’s ears and she sobs further into Kara, hoping Kara can just absorb her entirely, as if that’s the only thing that can protect her—from her family, from the world, from herself. 

Her sobs lasts and lasts, a never ending fountain of all the tears she’d shoved back in, a dam bursting now that she’s allowed herself.

—

Kara carries her to the bed, quietly ushering her under the covers just as she sits on the edge of it. 

“You saved me,” she says, her voice coming out slightly congested.  

Kara brushes her hair behind her ear. “That promise has never changed.” 

“They’re never going to stop, are they?” 

Kara shakes her head. 

“I thought by letting you g—” she huffs, turns away. “I thought I was protecting you. I was trying to do the right thing.” 

Kara grabs hold of her hand and places it on her lap, her fingers fiddling with Lena’s palm, but doesn’t quite look at her. 

“I’m afraid that the only times I will see you, I’m trying to save your life. And I—it worsens when I think that I can’t make it.” 

Lena watches Kara’s beautiful profile, the expanse of her forehead, the slope of her nose into the curves of her lips and down her jutting chin, trembling slightly in the faint light outside the bedroom curtain. Then she sees the bob of Kara’s throat, a single tear falling into the center of her palm. 

Kara’s facing her now, and Lena brings up her other hand to wipe Kara’s cheek. 

“I missed you, Lena. And I don’t know what I will do if I can’t make it to you in time, I—” 

This time, it’s Lena who pulls her close, wrapping the arm that Kara’s been focusing on around her front as she cradles Kara in her arms. “I’m sorry, darling,” she says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.” 

Kara then turns in her arms and they embrace one another, both hiding in each other. 

The tears stain and soak her neck, but she lets it, welcoming Kara’s weight after months of being so untethered. 

“Please, just come back to me,” Kara says into her skin, muffled words that hold so much promise. “Let me take care of you. Let me protect you,” 

Lena pulls back slightly. “You’d still—you’d still want me?” 

“Let me love you again, Lena.” 

Unable to hold her own tears back, Lena pushes forward until their lips meet. She angles her head and Kara kisses her back, the pair of them holding each other. 

There is an ache to their reunion, but there is healing, too. And Lena remembers, unbidden, Dr. Shapiro’s words. It could have been worse, she’d heard. 

But Lena wants it to be better. She deserves at least that, for all of her troubles, and if her family will aim for her and all that she loves, then she can’t hide herself in the shadows. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Tomorrow, she thinks, after the whispered declarations and the promises of more, of better, of a new day. Together. 

“I’m here. I’m here. I love you, too. I’m here.” 

[unnaturalceilings]

Happy Supercorp Sunday 💖