#would you believe that the UNDERGROUND BUNKER was impossible to colour???

[julie-finlay]

Finlay Friday

13x18: “Sheltered, script extracts pt. 1/2

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Impasse - A Vaderdala Oneshot

“You forget something, Lord Vader.”

Vader flinched, the voice as clear as a bell yet as foreign as the icy vacuum of space. He found himself frozen in place, the bulk of his hefty frame suddenly unbearable. Inside his chest, he felt the searing fingers of remorse and the scalding flames of rage warring for control. 

Against better judgment, he shifted to turn around. Against better judgment, he let down his guard and ignored unclipping his lightsaber. He knew the face he would find before he saw it, but he was still not prepared for the wave of emotion that spilled forth as he came face to face with his own ghosts. This one, he had expected long dead and buried.

“Padmé,” he gasped, but the voice that came out was blunt and deep and void of affection.

Still, the shock bled through. Padmé was as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her. Eyes fierce and determined, dark hair coming loose from her neatly tied bun. Her face was set in a scowl, blaster drawn and aiming straight for the chest panel on Vader’s chest as if it were a marked target meant for practice and precision fire. The air had shifted, the tension thick and heavy and oppressive as they stared each other down. No, more accurately Padmé’s intense, fiery glare was bearing down on Vader. Vader felt his anger dissipate the moment he met that stare; the ice cold regret and guilt crippling him inside out as it won the impasse.

“You said you had come to destroy the Rebellion. I am the last leader standing here. I alone. Will you destroy me now?” Padmé hissed through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed but her hands steady.

Vader was familiar with the vow he had made, but now it seemed an impossible lie. Before his mind’s eye, he had envisioned old men and snot nosed kids. Politicians and traitors and cowards, incapable of accepting the Emperor’s grand design and his expert vision. The future was bright, the Sith had reclaimed their natural state in the circle of life - atop the ladder. Only fools and children would oppose such an evident supply of unlimited power. Yet, Padmé seemed to care for none of these things. Time had not slowed her down, it had not thawed the ice built in her heart - the ice Vader himself had put there.

“Well?” she pressed, voice tight, calm and collected.

The words escaped before Vader had any chance to rein himself in. Perhaps he never intended to.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, as if mocking him but her expression revealed surprise and disbelief.

“Aren’t you here to execute your Rebel traitors?”

Vader said nothing, instead he reached for the saber strapped to his belt. He watched Padmé tense, watched her shoulder come up and the finger on the trigger twitch. In what might have been a gesture of surrender, he simply tossed his weapon between them. The gesture was barely a flick of his wrist, but it sent the hilt skidding across the smooth floors until it came to an premeditated gentle stop at Padmé’s feet. She glanced down to regard the token, an unreadable tinge of something somber gleaming in her eyes for a split second. When she looked back up, Vader had not moved. He stood with his hands at his sides, the bombardment outside the underground bunker shaking its hull; straining the already flickering lights.

“I will not fight you,” said Vader finally, as if that would be enough to soothe the woman’s stubborn spirits.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her lips curling into a half sneer of disgust. It stung, and Vader might have recoiled from that alone had he not been the man he was. Changed, remolded and retooled. His heart had been ripped out once, and still Padmé’s presence willed its withered carcass to beat and blossom. At the same time, she tore it to shreds once more with the disdain her face held for him. He sensed it inside her, swirling and expanding into a palpable loathing. It cloaked her, surrounded her like a cloud. It reeked of pain, sorrow, and betrayal.

“You don’t know me. If you won’t fight, I will,” she said, every word calculated and sincere.

“‘Aggressive negotiations’.”

It was merely a statement, but its meaning rang true. Padmé straightened up, eyes suddenly wide as a ghost of horrified recognition filtered past her defenses. it was gone in the blink of an eye, but the colour that had drained from her already pale face was harder to conceal.

“Who told you?” she snarled, shifting the aim of her blaster towards Vader’s heart - knowing it would do no harm, but the gesture hit him like a slap across the face either way.

She was questioning how he had learned about her and The Jedi. Anakin Skywalker, her husband. Perhaps she had her sneaking suspicions, she must. But her aura betrayed none of it, it remained outraged and unsettled and adamant in her quest.

“You did.”

Padmé opened her mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but she snapped it close again. A tremor passed her slight frame, and it did not go unnoticed. Her resolve was faltering and waning, the lie she had convinced herself to believe no less a stretch of the imagination than the mental gymnastics Vader himself had been performing for the past four years. Ever since Mustafar, ever since he lost everything. Now, that very everything lost stood before him. Now, she was once more within his reach.

“I’m sorry. I tried,” he heard himself say, a feeble apology not nearly sufficient to excuse the heinous acts he had committed.

The voice was still not his own, but the words were earnest. Padmé lowered her blaster in slow, jerky motions but her eyes were transfixed on his. At the very least, Vader felt their gaze burn straight into his soul; into the furnace of his heart that had frozen over a million times. 

“You’re safe.”

It was a ridiculous profession, Padmé’s very existence as part of the Rebellion was a death sentence. But she was alive, she was well and healthy and stable and here. She had not died. He had failed her, but she had lived. He took one step towards her, feeling just as wary and insecure as she looked. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a tiny micromovement. She mouthed something, but there was no sound accompanying the motion. Vader understood her fear, yet it pained him to no end. He was unrecognizable, locked within this jettblack prison of durasteel, cybernetics and synth flesh. There was so little left of his physical body, and even less of the man Padmé had once loved.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, hoarse as the tendons at the sides of her neck strained.

Vader felt the urge to cry, an urge so overpowering. An urge that had not found him since Mustafar, since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic. He had no tears to cry, no measure to shed tears by. His retinas, his tear ducts were long since eaten away by flames and embers. Still, his eyes stung. A warmth pressed behind them, a heaviness bearing down on his chest like a fist squeezing the air out of his lungs. Lungs he no longer had.

“Do what you must. I am not afraid to die.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, mouth falling open as realization dawned upon her. She understood. Vader expected her to back away, expected her to cry, to yell, to fire. Anything. Instead, she stood stone faced. As frail as porcelain, yet as sturdy as the brightest star in the Galaxy. Now, she took a step towards him. Then another. Closing the gap, inch by inch, foot by foot. She tipped her head back, never once drawing her eyes from the opaque crimson lenses of Vader’s eyes that substituted eyes. They served for the damaged, half blind eyes hidden behind.

“What have they done to you?” Padmé’s resolute voice murmured; full of compassion and love, emotions that seemed to have sprung out of the ether.

Yet, what she really meant was; what have you done to yourself?

Vader did not falter as she stopped but a breath away. Her trembling, slender fingers reached for his face plate. Her tiny hand brushed over the mouthpiece, running over the sharp angles and the netted grill. A breath was forced through it, with a loud hiss and the smell of sanitizer and bacta fluids followed it. Padmé’s eyes were round, warm, and mournful. They were glassy, her cheeks flushed but it was Vader who wished more than ever that he might shed a tear. If she were to strike him down, he deserved it. He would allow it. He would let her.

“Anakin.”

It was not a question. She knew, it was evident in the pitiful, feeble smile of shock and relief alike that grazed her lips. It was gone in an instant, but it had said enough. So used to denouncing his name, denouncing himself and all he was and had been - Vader found himself unable to deflect her. She was right. He had been wrong for so long, choosing to live in darkness and denial. No more.

“Yes.”

Anakin meant it.

****

Have a short Vaderdala AU.

[hen-of-letters]

@spnprideweek day one: flags

This little ficlet for #spnprideweek is brought to you by my big, non-binary bisexual love for this beautiful fandom, and my desire to fix that moment in 'Baby' when Cas indulges Dean by saying "werepire", but Dean doesn't hear him and Cas doesn't know. It ended up getting a bit long, so there's more under the cut or over on AO3. Thanks!

Dean's at Pride, and feeling a rising level of discomfort.

It's not the fact that he's wearing eyeliner in public for the first time in his forty-two years. Hell, he'd been wanting to do that ever since he was a kid, dreaming of being a rock star. The covers of music magazines in gas station racks had been windows on a world free from the brutally narrow definition of what his Dad meant when he told him to "be a man". Gradually, though, he'd learned what is gloriously apparent today under the hot June sun: that there are as many ways of being a man as there are men.

It's not because the sleeveless white t-shirt he's wearing is somewhat snug. (The heat had made him shed his pink, purple and blue plaid shirt - the one he'd worn today because Claire always called it his 'bi flannel' - and tie it around his waist.) He and Cas are both wearing a little of their contentment on their waistlines these days, and he believes Cas when he says that he adores his body because he means it when he says the same to Cas.

It's not the big, heart-shaped sticker slapped on his chest, which is striped in the colours of the bisexual pride flag in a way that's much less subtle than the flannel. Dean's always known that he wasn't only into chicks, but putting a name to it is new. Dean's had jobs and Dean's had roles, but having an identity had always seemed like a luxury well beyond Dean's means. Now he's not constantly running for his life, though, he has the breathing room to figure himself out. And he's good with this part of himself. More than good.

It's not the two flags that are padding the pockets of his jeans. One, he'd bought for Cas: it's striped in pale pink, pale blue and white. Earlier, he'd gone with Cas when he'd met up with some friends he'd met online (having managed to get past all the cats this time). The ex-angel had found that discussing their experiences of being trans had helped him feel happy in the body that had become his own. Dean could only feel immense gratitude for the way Cas' face had lit up afterwards when he'd talked about how he was creating himself, becoming himself, and embracing the human condition of change.

Dean hopes that the gift of the trans pride flag will show Cas that Dean understands and loves him, and the same is true for the other flag, which he'd picked up for Jack. It's yellow, white, purple and black. Dean had had to do a little research when Jack had used the term non-binary - it's amazing how the world can move on while you're living in an underground bunker. He'd kept on researching, too, after he'd learned the basics. Maybe he was still figuring himself out. Maybe there was more to discover about himself, and wasn't that fantastic?

Jack is wandering around somewhere with Claire and Kaia. Jody and Donna are here, too, with Alex and Patience. Adam and Michael have probably partied their way through fifty international pride parades by now, but they should be meeting up with everyone else later. Sam and Eileen are not far away. Eileen was the one who's slapped the bi pride sticker on Dean's chest - with unnecessary force, if you asked Dean. She'd grinned at him, showed off the identical sticker on her own chest, and said, with a suitably cheesy wink, "we need to stick together". He remembered the moment he'd nervously asked her the sign for 'bisexual', and when she'd shown him - the letter signs for 'b' and 'i' - she'd added, "me too," and Dean had scooped her up into a crushing hug.His love for his family is endless, and them all being here is definitely not why he's uncomfortable.

And it's not the body glitter freckling his cheeks and his shoulders with gold, although his feelings might change by the time he tries to remove it tonight. He'd been gilded with it when he'd been dancing up a storm with a group of drag queens. They'd admired his eyeliner - a deep brown shot through with gold along his upper lashes - but winked and said it was "a little subtle for Pride". As soon as Dean had seen the tube of glitter, he'd yelled "hell yes!" and even managed to hold still long enough to be coated in the stuff before moving his body to the beat again. Although he's sure his feet will be aching later, so far his favourite cowboy boots are not the source of his discomfort.

It's not the bright pink feather boa, either, which he'd acquired from the same source as the glitter, when he'd been sent off with a kiss to the cheek and the words "be bold, honey!" He'd expected the boa to tickle or irritate, but for some bizarre reason the sensation of feathers around his shoulders and the back of his neck feels incredibly comforting and reassuring. He feels warm and safe and oh. Oh.

As that particular realisation sweeps over him, Dean tightens his hold on Cas. He's standing behind him with his right hand on Cas' hip, and his left arm is up over his shoulder and wrapped around his chest. His hand is splayed out, at once putting his silver wedding band on display and somehow attempting to conceal Cas from the eyes of his many admirers (and, well, good luck with that. Cas is incredibly beefy these days).

Which brings us to the source of Dean's discomfort; to the thing that's deepening the furrow in his brow and the dimples beside his pursed lips: namely, the sheer number of guys hitting on Cas.

It's not like Dean can blame them. Cas' muscular frame is wrapped in black jeans and a tight black t-shirt bearing the Led Zeppelin 1975 tour logo. The short sleeves show off the floral tattoos trailing down his left arm. Cas is wearing a rainbow-coloured enamel belt buckle and, because he's determined to be the death of Dean, black cowboy boots. Before they'd left, Dean hadn't been able to resist grabbing a black kohl pencil and smudging a little along Cas' upper and lower lashes. And, okay, maybe Cas' wide-eyed bewilderment every time he's flirted with is vaguely amusing. But when Dean is right here? Not cool.

Right on cue, here's another one. From over his husband's shoulder, Dean levels his very best glare at the guy. It's a look that can stop a demon dead in its tracks. A vampire would tremble. A werewolf would wet itself. But one young gay guy with a few drinks in him? Totally unaffected. Like the others, he's all smiles and understanding when Cas politely, if awkwardly, waves him away. (Literally. With a final dorky little wave goodbye.)

Dean realises that he's moved his right arm around Cas' waist, so now Dean is wrapped around Cas like some kind of koala/octopus hybrid. An octoala? A koctopus? Definitely koctopus. Heh.

Dean snorts at the thought, which is somewhat unfortunate, given that his face is right next to Cas' ear. Cas flinches and turns his head around to fix him in a squinty glare.

"Koctopus?" Dean says, apologetically.

Cas narrows his eyes further and tilts his head to the side.

"Um, the way I was wrapped around you. I was like a cross between a koala and an octopus."

Dean nudges Cas. "So what does that make me? C'mon, you know you wanna say it."

Cas just tilts his head a bit further to the side, either in confusion or outright despair. Dean has untangled himself from Cas and stepped back, and looks down at the ground, suddenly self-conscious.

Dean feels Cas' hand on his shoulder, and then it smooths over his back, finding the back of his neck underneath the boa. Whatever his shape, Cas' touch has the exact same effect on Dean. He looks up into the impossibly blue eyes of his husband.

"You're a very glittery," Cas begins, softly, "and very beautiful," one corner of his mouth lifts, and then he purses his lips together, trying to hold back the smile, "koctopus."

The corners of his eyes are crinkled. He's not amused by the joke, Dean knows, just absurdly pleased to be saying something he knows will make Dean happy. Of course Dean knows that Cas loves him, knows the whole cosmic-realm-crossing magnitude of it, but in little moments like this, he's floored by it. Dean can't help his sudden exhale or the massive grin that breaks across his face. He wraps his husband up in hug that they hold for a good long moment, before Dean leans back to kiss Cas.

No one had ever explained to Dean how difficult it is to kiss someone when you can't stop smiling. He'd never had that problem before Cas, but now it's practically a daily occurrence. It's a menace because kissing Cas is one of Dean's favourite pastimes. Now, they trade little pecks between wide, toothy grins, until passion takes over and the kisses become heavier.

It takes someone wolf-whistling for them to part, and then they're back to grinning and staring into each others' eyes, until Dean spots something on Cas' face. And something else. And something else. In fact, there's something all over Cas, and that something is gold glitter. It's on his face, his hands, his Zeppelin shirt, and even in his hair. Dean runs his fingers through the unruly curls - Cas has been wearing his hair longer lately - in an attempt to shake it out, but only deposits more glitter into Cas' locks.

"Oops," Dean says, "I kinda glitter bombed you there. It's all over your shirt, too. Sorry, Sunshine."

He doesn't sound terribly sorry.

"This is your shirt, Dean."

"Aw, man."

He does sound a little sorry now, but his future laundry woes are forgotten when Cas presses another kiss to his pouting lips. They're forgotten again when something across the crowd catches Dean's eye.

"Oooh," Dean exclaims as he drags Cas towards the stall he's spotted.

It's selling cowboy hats in every configuration of colour imaginable, and Dean is practically jumping on the spot excitement. Cas looks his husband up and down, slowly.

"You think your outfit's lacking accessories?" he deadpans.

"Yup," is Dean's gleeful reply, "and so's yours."

Cas' groan is lost to the noise of the crowd and the beat of the music, so no-one will ever know if it was one of protest or defeat. He does, in fact, end up wearing a black cowboy hat with a rainbow band, so if it was protest then it was highly ineffective. Dean's has a pink crown, purple band and blue brim, and he's carrying another black one with a band in the non-binary flag colours for Jack. Cas admits that Jack's going to love it.

"Damn, this is awesome," Dean says as they head back to meet up with the rest of their family.

Walking hand in hand with Cas, Dean's thoughts wander. Dean could kick his younger self for every time he'd called someone gay or a girl as a way of saying they were weak. Because all he can see in the people around him is strength. He grins again, giddy with the atmosphere of defiant joy. All around him is everything he'd spent his life fighting to protect: freedom, family, and love. Holding his husband's hand a little tighter, he's grateful that in the end he gets to have both: freedom and peace.

[thornedrose44]

Ends of the Earth

(Read it on AO3)

The world ended.

Well, that's not technically accurate… humanity's time on earth ended, a lot sooner than to be expected which is where the tragedy of it all lies, if Lena were to guess.

Not that Lena's own time on earth had ended. She was still here, pottering on, miles underground, fiddling with forgotten experiments and watching endless hours of television that she never had time for before… 

She wondered if this was what retirement was like… 

Admittedly, Lena had always imagined it involving more travelling, maybe some gardening and it had never been lonely. She refused to acknowledge that when she thought of getting older it was with crinkly blue eyes and silver streaked blonde hair at her side which always helped soothe the ache in her chest that such morbid thoughts produced. Now, even that fantasy was well and truly gone. 

She would only ever get to watch herself grow old now, at least she didn't have to worry about the paparazzi's comments about her receding good looks.

It wasn’t a bad life, not really. She had enough food to see her through old age or until the tempting call of the void summoned her. If Lena was being honest, which she kind of had to be when the only person she had left to lie to was herself… She knew it would be the latter that would take her in the end. 

See the thing is… Lena hears… things. 

They’re not real, or they are but they are merely the sounds that an empty building creates to keep itself company. The groan of a pipe. The squeak of a beam. The hiss of a fridge. The knock of a mechanised system keeping the air breathable and the water on hand.

Lena still had enough of her sanity to convince herself that the sounds were a natural part of her safe haven (‘prison’ more like). But there were mutters at the back of her mind that said other things. That squeak was a mouse still alive on the outside. That groan was a ghost, trapped forever alongside Lena. That hiss, the blast-proof doors whistling open and irreparably bursting Lena’s protective bubble. That knock…

The knock was the worst.

The knock was the call of the void that allowed Lena to fantasise. To dream.

That knock meant she was no longer alone.

That knock… that knock could be everything she ever wanted…

That knock could be Kara…

And that… 

Lena knew that it would be the void that got her before old age. It would be that knock, her loneliness and the hope of seeing blue eyes just one more time… just one more time…. That would do her in.

***

The first six months hadn’t been too bad. Lena had kept herself busy making the repairs she needed to keep her safe haven ‘safe’ for as long as possible. The Children of Earth’s final attack, that had prompted humanity’s departure two months ahead of schedule and Lena staying behind to ensure their escape, had wrought significant damage to the structure of the bunker. 

The work was dull. But it was good. It kept her hands busy. Her mind distracted. And it meant she could fall into bed, utterly exhausted and free of thoughts of what ifs and almosts and not yets and soons and new beginnings… 

The majority of the work required for Lena’s home to be brought to tip-top shape was done after six months. The next six months were about optimisation. Trying to make her home… more homey… An already difficult task when there was little in the way of colour to decorate the concrete bunker, but a nigh on impossible task when Lena’s home had never been four walls but blue eyes, golden hair, a bright smile and a warmth that made even the darkest moments survivable.

It was the second year that broke something in Lena that she would never get back again.

It made the light in her chest steadily dim and extinguish.

A candle that had remained alight with the childish possibility that Lena would get her miracle, her last second save and a happy ending.

She knew it was impossible. Knew that the surface of the Earth was not accessible to another living being. That the transmat portal could not be repaired, the necessary materials completely depleted - even if Lena had the materials to repair it, she wouldn’t have been able to generate a high enough voltage to power it. That the survivors were now countless lightyears away and a ship travelling to her would arrive long after she had turned to little more than dust in this mausoleum. 

To survive the breaking (more specifically the ‘breakdown’ that had Lena spending pretty much the entirety of a month drunk off her ass), Lena found a routine. She found a routine and stuck to it. 

A routine that kept her busy, mentally and physically occupied because if she stopped… if she let her thoughts wander… Well, that knock started to sound rather enticing.

Lena performed regimented checks of her safe haven and its equipment.

Lena had time for reading. For television.

Time for fun science experiments she never had time to progress when the scientist part of her was told to give way to the business woman part.

Time for exercise; soft curves hardening to muscles as she threw around equipment and worked tirelessly and rigorously.

Set meals.

Set bedtime.

Set wake-up.

Day after day passed by in this fashion. Weeks. Months.

Two years in her concrete bunker became three, became five… and before Lena really knew it… she was rapidly approaching a decade in this prison of monotony.

***

It had started with an innocuous ‘beep’.

A fucking beep foretold the destruction of Earth - Lena prayed that humanity, when they re-told the story of the fall of their first home, would ignore that particular aspect of the tale.

It had all started out as a minor reading on a random L-Corp machine tucked away at the back of Lena's lab. (It had been the beginning of yet another half-formed experiment by an idealistic Lena when she thought that being in charge meant she could spend time on her own projects. How utterly naive she had been.)

Lena had taken it over to the DEO where she and Brainy looked over it together for a weekend - mostly because Lena had nothing better to do, what with her friendships being more or less non-existent since her near defection back to the Luthors and despite her subsequent assistance in bringing down Lex. 

Lena assumed it was an atypical reading, a presumption that had been reinforced by Brainy with knowledge of the future. Because if this erroneous result was in fact true and accurate then… the Sun clearly had it in for the Earth. 

It was heating and expanding at a ridiculous rate. A rate which would make the Earth uninhabitable in a mere handful of years, the heat and radioactivity increasing to such a level that it would be like living in an overpowered microwave.

So, the result had to be wrong because as far as Brainy was aware the Earth was very much still standing a thousand years down the line. 

It took a month, with nearly all of L-Corp's resources working on it to find out that, as it turns out, the future can change.

Which was great news for those strongly in favour of free will and heavily against predetermination. Less great news for those that had recently got a mortgage for a new house…

It was full go then.

The next two years were some of the worst and best of Lena's life.

The sun's sudden failure was a parting gift from the Daxamites, who were big believers in ‘if I can't have it, you can't have it either’. Lena assumed Lex would appreciate the pettiness of the action.

The first six months had been filled with hope and a fervour to fix it. Solve the problem like the Superfriends had so many others before. Kara was their guiding light, tirelessly chasing down every lead, ready to get whatever Lena, Brainy and the whole cohort of scientists required at a moment's notice.

Lena, however, wasn't hopeful. She wasn't an optimist. Not anymore at least. Maybe once, when she was young and her mother was there to chase away the monsters under the bed and lift her into the air when the sun was at its warmest. 

She had been hurt, though. Lied to and betrayed far too much to have faith in some intangible and, as of yet, unknown success. She was a Luthor. Raised to be resourceful, stubborn and with a tendency to doubt. 

So, whilst her team of great minds slept, Lena would stay awake an extra couple of hours and plan and prepare for the worst. Because you never know when 'just in case' would be the only option left.

Lena and Kara's friendship over that six months steadily rebuilt.

It rebuilt over peace offering coffees brought to Lena's side by fidgeting fingers, “You look like you need it.”

“You didn’t have to.” Lena would always remind, not wanting there to be an obligation, not wanting Kara to be there unless she wanted to be.

“I know… I wanted to…” Would always be murmured back, soft and sincere, a rope cast out in the darkness.

 It was rebuilt by softly spoken encouragement when either flagged. 

“What use am I? It’s not like I can punch the sun better.” Kara huffed on days when she was left to pace without direction waiting for the next task, the next lead, the next… whatever...

“No, but I know that you would if you could.” Lena would reply, earning her a small upwards tick to Kara’s lips that made Lena’s heart flutter with something other than a constant state of anxiety. “You are more than just your powers, Kara. Far more.” Lena would whisper earnestly, and Kara would simply rest her head on Lena’s shoulder.

It was rebuilt by fingers gently interlacing to offer comfort, “We’ll find something.”

“Together?”

“How else? A Super and Luthor are unstoppable, didn’t you know?”

 It was rebuilt by Kara sharing her fears of losing yet another home and Lena listening, “I don’t know if I can take another loss like this.”

“I know, I can’t even begin to understand what you must be going through, but it's not going to be the same as last time, you know?” Lena would murmur, soft and hesitant, afraid of stepping wrong, afraid of treading on Kara’s open wounds that she had never known were there before. “If it does happen…” Lena would tack on (always if, never when) in those first few months. “You won’t lose everything. I won’t let you. Everyone that can be saved, will be.”

“Is it bad that I don’t… I can live with a few losses… I can, but there are some… Some that matter more...” Kara confessed haltingly, blue eyes wide and scared as if she was revealing something she wasn’t sure Lena was ready to hear yet.

“No, there’s nothing bad about that. At least,” Lena murmured, ducking her head as she curled her fingers tighter around Kara’s, her thumb rubbing back and forth over knuckles, “I don’t think of myself as a bad person for it.”

“You’re not.” Kara would insist, finally covering over the hurt of ‘villain’ once and for all.

It was rebuilt in Kara carrying Lena to her cot in the backroom of the labs whenever she found her slumped over her keyboard in the early hours of the morning. 

“Hmm…” Lena would sleepily hum as she felt herself being cradled in Kara’s arms who never used super-speed when she was carrying her anymore, something Lena was grateful for as it gave her precious extra seconds of being safely ensconced by everything Kara.

“Sleep, Lena, just sleep.” Kara would mutter tenderly, lowering her onto the blankets and pressing an almost imperceptible kiss to Lena’s forehead which guaranteed Lena pleasant dreams.

It was rebuilt on tragedy and hope. It was rebuilt on optimism and pessimism. It was rebuilt by two people who just wanted to save each other in whatever way they could.

***

After six months, it was known. It was known that there was no Hail Mary that could undo what had happened.

Now, it was just about survival… and, for some unfathomable reason, everyone was looking at Lena to ensure that.

“Me! Kara, they’re looking at me to… to… save them!” Lena yelled incredulously once she had returned to the sanctuary of her lab and it was just the two of them (as it often was now).

“Yeah… they are…” Kara replied with a shrug like it was obvious and understandable.

“Me! A Luthor!”

“No. Not a Luthor.” Kara declared firmly, lifting her chin in that way that always made Lena’s knees just that little bit weak. “Lena. The woman that has saved this planet and its people time and time again. A woman who has proven herself selfless and a hero in every way possible. The person that I…” Kara swallowed thickly and in that moment, Lena couldn’t breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. Kara stepped towards her, strong and confident, reaching out to take Lena’s hands in her own, squeezing them tightly as earnest blue eyes stared deep into lost green. “Lena Luthor, you are my hero and I am always looking to you to save me.”

Lena finally inhaled a shuddering breath, nodded her head once and got to work.

The first step was the underground bunkers that would provide shelter for humanity whilst a more long term solution was achieved. The bunkers were not designed to be aesthetically pleasing or even remotely homely. They were functional, quick to put in place and hopefully temporary (which they would be for all but one).

Whilst the bunkers were built, Lena and her team were given two momentous undertakings that were critical for humanity’s continued existence:

Find a suitable new planet to call home.

Figure out how to get the entire population of Earth there as quickly as possible.

Lena hated the second six months of those two years. Kara was barely around, constantly buried under miles of earth, supporting the construction teams in their work, her help was crucial as having someone who could manoeuvre large weights delicately removed the overheads of large pieces of equipment and the time they would take to get in position and slowly carry out the task. When Kara ever did manage to poke her head above sea level, she was off to far flung places trying to minimise the impact of whatever natural disaster was occurring due to the Sun’s interest in making Earth a holiday destination for lava monsters in the near future.

Kara only ever made it back to National City for the occasional weekend once a month. A weekend that she mostly spent sleeping after having pushed herself past the point of exhaustion. 

Kara had taken to sleeping in Lena's cot whenever she was back, holding Lena close instinctively whenever the former CEO managed to collapse beside her after her own ridiculously long days. 

“You know, you have a far more comfortable bed at home? With proper sheets and pillows and blankets and all those really good things that are conducive to sleep…” Lena drawled as she slipped off her heels and sat on the edge of the cot that was already filled with a dozing superhero.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Kara yawned in return, shuffling to the edge of the single-person cot to leave a reasonable gap for Lena.

“Yeah, but…” Lena began to argue, biting her lip; Kara was out there everyday pushing her body beyond its limits in places with little sun, little hope and little in the way of comfort. And when she was granted a few hours of reprieve, just a few measly hours to rest before she was pulled back under, she spent it in a darkened back-room of a laboratory.

“No buts.” Kara cut in, tugging at Lena’s sleeve to pull her down into the empty space and open arms. “I’m here because…” Kara murmured, nuzzling her nose against Lena’s forehead whilst kindly ignoring Lena’s pounding heart, “Because I want to be here.”

“I want you here too.” Lena would eventually reply once her heart had returned to a normal beat and she was sure Kara had fallen into a deep slumber. 

(The Superfriends talked about Kara never returning home and choosing to be wherever Lena was amongst themselves, but they never brought it up with either woman, presumably out of respect or simply being too busy with the impending end of the world).

During that time, Lena was under more stress than she had ever been in her entire life.  A whole planet on her shoulders and she was being crushed under the weight of it all. 

On the plus side, it was the longest anyone had ever gone without spitting her last name out with disgust. It was difficult to damn the person working tirelessly to save you. Not that there weren't some that tried to call her saviour and devil in the same breath, but the Superfriends, who had become her friends again, would put a stop to it before they ever got to the second part of their sentence.

Lena knew that Kara had asked them to look after her whilst she was away. And she appreciated the thought more than she appreciated the actual looking after. Alex had taken to looming over her shoulder like a bodyguard and frog marching her to the canteen at set times to eat three meals a day. Nia, meanwhile, insisted that Lena walk up and down the white-washed corridors of the laboratory at least twice a day to ensure she exercised. 

She grew to love them all: Brainy who was constantly by her side, Alex who was holding her up when she nearly collapsed from exhaustion and Nia who always managed to remind her of the small things she was fighting to save when she got lost in the big picture. She loved them but every time they pulled her away from her work, Lena would hear a voice in her head whispering an ominous countdown.

***

One year post-world-ending-beep, and humanity was tucked away in its new home - the bunkers underground.

Lena and Brainy had finally found a promising planet that they could call home, code-named Goldilocks until an actual name was selected when they finally stepped foot on it (it felt weird officially naming something that they had never seen or experienced). Now, they just had to get everyone there and Lena doubted that there was an intergalactic moving service - maybe that could be her new business venture after her secondment as humanity’s supposed saviour was complete.

 Their best option was the transmat portals (mark two) that she somehow needed to make so that they didn’t require a corresponding portal on the other side. Their idea was more of a wormhole or slingshot, that flung them across the galaxy. They had transports that they could load people up in, they now just needed to create the ‘road’ or ‘shortcut’.

Lena spent day after endless day with Brainy in contact with Earth’s greatest physicists trying to solve problems and reconcile theories that would probably have taken centuries to solve, but mother was the necessity of invention. And dear god, did they need this invention.

The pressure was destroying Lena and more importantly it was creating a gulf between her and Kara that they had so pain-stakingly worked to remove over the last year.

“Lena, you need to eat.” Kara pleaded, her fingers making only fleeting contact with Lena’s elbow, the last time she had made contact Lena had flinched which had hurt Kara in a way that no physical attack ever could.

“I’ll eat later.” Lena replied sharply, her eyes remaining fixed on the board in front of her.

“Come on, Lena. Everyone else has taken a break.” Kara murmured, gesturing to the empty room and the blank computer screens.

“I’m not like everyone else.” Lena responded absent-mindedly.

“I know, I know…” Kara soothed, fingers twitching with the obvious desire to pull Lena into her arms. 

It had been weeks since Lena had been in Kara’s arms but Lena knew… knew that if she sunk into Kara’s embrace, she would crack open and she didn’t know if she would be strong enough to put herself back together again.

“Just, I’m here… for you… always.” Kara promised with a sad and lost tone of voice that made Lena’s throat tight and scratchy.

***

The Children of Earth were the single most irritating thing about the end of the world, and Lena knew that was saying something.

They were also the people that saw Lena’s near year long record without an assassination attempt as a challenge. 

They were a fanatical group that believed if the Earth was ending, the human race should too. That was pretty much it. Considering the rather bleak sales pitch, Lena was impressed by how many people they convinced to eagerly join up. 

Unsurprisingly, Lena was the number one target on their (s)hit list - what with being the main person working on getting them all off planet. Kara, took to being by her side almost constantly, an ever present shadow to the youngest Luthor; dark, steely blue eyes and a harsh frown on the world’s celebrated heroine made even the most committed of assassins think twice.

Kara’s shift to bodyguard came after the very first attempt on Lena’s life.

Lena was at her desk in her laboratory, making changes to an algorithm in the dead of night, the rest of her team retreating to their beds for a few hours whilst they could. It was Lena’s shaky hands that saved her life (exhaustion, stress and a near constant caffeine overdose had produced tremors in Lena’s long fingers that Kara couldn’t bear to look at anymore), Shaky hands reaching for a mug of cold coffee. Shaky hands so tired they couldn’t summon up the strength to hold it steady. The porcelain slipping through her fingers and rushing downwards to smash onto the floor. 

Lena instinctively scrambled after it, pitching herself awkwardly downwards and to the side,

It was this that saved her.

Ensured the bullet aimed for the centre of her back actually hit her shoulder.

It was the sharp inhale of pain and whisper of Kara’s name as she fell off her stool that saved her.

Because Kara was always listening out for her. On hand and ready the second Lena needed her. 

Lena didn’t hit the floor. Didn’t smash into the ground like her coffee mug.

Warm arms were around her before she even got close.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was whispered endlessly on repeat as she was carefully transported to the medbay where Alex and Eliza (quickly roused from sleep by a terrified superhero) got to work. Lena didn’t ask about the assassin, she knew she was safe with Kara watching over her and the Danvers so tenderly cleaning out her wound and that was all that really mattered. She didn’t have any space left in her mind to think of anything else, so overwhelmed with all the problems she had been asked to solve. There was no processing power left to confront other unknown questions.

Kara didn’t leave her side from then on. Not that Lena would let her. Not that night.

Their hands were clasped tightly together and would stay that way even when it inconvenienced the two doctors, who were wise enough not to raise it as an issue.

Lena’s wound was dressed efficiently and in such a way as to minimise scarring, Eliza and Alex returned to bed as they moved away from early morning, and the leaders of the survivors underground were made aware of the threat against their chief scientist. If Kara, as Supergirl, hadn’t insisted on serving personally as Lena’s protector, Lena was pretty sure the leaders would have demanded it, having grown equally fond of and dependent on the youngest Luthor.

When it was just them… just Kara and Lena… that’s when Lena let the tears fall and the sobs wrack her body. She was cradled carefully in Kara’s arms in an instant and everything she had been holding back burst out of her in an unending stream.

It was cathartic, letting it all out whilst Kara just held her and listened and whispered words of reassurance and affection.

The gulf that had formed, disappeared in an instant as Lena buried her head into the crook of Kara’s neck murmuring apology after apology for keeping her out, for putting distance between them, for not being good enough, for not saving Kara’s second home. 

Kara listened, rejecting every single apology with a firm voice and understanding blue eyes.

“Don’t push me away again.” Was all Kara asked for.

“Never. Never again.” Lena promised, not knowing at the time how she would be forced to break that promise less than a year from now.

***

The looks and hints and flirts and teases started in earnest then - they had always been there but boyfriends, secrets, distrust, confusion and hurt had blanketed it and kept it from growing. Now, it was just them and the end of the world.

Their days were spent together, Lena trying to save the world and Kara just trying to save Lena.

“You know I was a prodigy back on Krypton…” Kara revealed her past quietly as she was oft to do when the lab was empty and the bunker was blessedly quiet.

“In writing?” Lena asked, abandoning her work to give Kara her full attention - Kara was the only thing, especially when she was like this (soft, vulnerable and eyes aching with the loss of one home) that could make Lena turn away from the screaming voices inside her head.

“No…” Kara laughed lightly, “I was to be the youngest to join the science guild.” 

“Really?” Lena murmured in disbelief.

“Hmm…” Kara hummed, her mouth quirking up at the edges; Lena’s eyes dipped down to stare at the movement as they had begun to do with increasing frequency.

“Then why…” Lena began curiously wondering why Kara would turn away from something she had been preparing for and so obviously excelling at.

“Because, on Krypton…” Kara reached out with tentative fingers and pushed a dark lock of hair behind Lena’s ear. “We didn’t have people like you. People who worked on the ‘just in case’. People who spoke up. People who… thought everyone should be trusted with the truth. People who thought everyone deserved to be saved, not just the select few.” 

Lena grabbed Kara’s hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a comforting kiss to its palm as Kara revealed her scars to her. 

“I didn’t see science the same.” Kara confessed, her gaze turning far-away and distant as she took in the scribbles on the white-board like she recognised the odd syllable of a language she hadn’t spoken in years. “Science was elitist. Science led to hubris. Science failed to save us. But it was the lies that damned us in the first place. So… when I had the chance to start again…” She trailed off, expression melancholic and wistful.

“Thank you for telling me that.” Lena whispered sincerely, once it was clear Kara had nothing left to say.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Kara chuckled dark and pained in a way that made Lena’s heart crack across the surface.

“What is?” Lena prompted, squeezing Kara’s hand tightly in the hopes of grounding her.

“If I had been a journalist on Krypton, I could have made a difference. And if I was a scientist here, I could have made a difference.” Kara said, her smile a dark and broken thing that looked just wrong on her face.

“You make a difference, Kara. Every day. Just by being you.” Lena declared, green eyes sharp and jaw clenched determinedly.

The twisted smile receded back to something soft and adoring. “Maybe for the next one I’ll switch back to science, I mean how long do you think it would take me to get upto speed?” Kara questioned teasingly jerking a thumb at the board covered in excessive equations.

Lena let go of the heavy moment, though she wanted to reinforce to Kara that she was perfect just the way she was. But there would be other moments, other conversations, other secrets shared, other wounds tended…

“Depends on your teacher. With me there to help, I could make you an expert within a decade.” Lena asserted with a confident wink.

Kara’s gaze narrowed, a smouldering smirk slowly appearing as the kryptonian leaned into Lena’s space, “Is that so? Professor?”

Lena gulped.

***

It was a known yet unspoken thing between them.

They spoke around it, danced right up to it, fogged up the glass with eager breaths and pressed against the membrane with curious fingers. Lena knew Kara felt it, in the same way Kara knew Lena felt it. Though, both were too fearful to define it, to say how deep it ran, how much it meant to either of them. 

It was ambiguous in its immensity, not in its existence.

Whenever they brushed up against it, and came close to breaking that barely visible wall between them, they were pulled back with murmurs of ‘soon’ and ‘almost’...

They were both too dutiful, too dedicated to the task at hand to leave room for much else. And they both didn’t want to start when they couldn’t commit all of themselves to each other. Wanted their chance to have the highest probability for success that it could. Because that's what they both deserved.

“The first sunset.” Kara murmured when they were cuddled up together on Lena’s cot in the small room put aside for the chief scientist at the back of the lab in the bunker. “Me, you and a picnic under the very first sunset.”

“Sounds romantic.” Lena teased, rubbing her cold nose against Kara’s clavicle.

“I’ve got it all planned.” Kara admitted honestly. “Every last detail.”

“You’ve really thought about this…” Lena said in awe, pulling back to look down into soft blue eyes.

“It’s all I think about…” Kara replied, her fingers stroking up and down Lena’s back - Lena wished those clever, clever fingers would sneak under her sleep shirt and run along her bare skin.

“Soon.” Lena exhaled their now common commitment.

“Soon.” Kara echoed.

***

The transmat portals were nearly done. Ahead of schedule which was probably a first for any project, yet alone one on such a large scale.

The only problem was the energy source. It was… rather unstable and the amount of energy required to power all the portals at the same time was substantial. To ensure the tentative peace between all leaders and those involved, an agreement was made that all the portals would activate at the same time and humanity would pass through in one go to ensure that there was no group given an advantage.

Lena understood the political reasoning but it was an engineering nightmare.

They were working on putting power stabilisers on the portals to limit the impact of unwanted surges, when the Children of Earth made their play.

Coordinated explosions that threatened the sanctity of the bunkers moved the scheduled departure date up and prompted a mass evacuation. Kara didn’t want to leave Lena’s side but the people needed their Supergirl and it wasn’t fair for Kara to stay by Lena’s side when she was far from the fighting and others needed her to be their shield. Kara left her side with a promise of, “Soon, we’ll get our sunset.”

Lena had prepped the transmat portals from the command centre, monitoring the power levels with a wary eye as the bunker shook with the ferocity of the fighting. Lena watched over transport after transport, making changes as required to keep the power stable. As the numbers of those left to go through began to dwindle, Lena sent her team of loyal scientists led by Brainy (who she had to order to leave) on their way, leaving one transport for her and the soldiers holding off the Children of Earth. 

Lena struggled, as time ticked ever onwards, to keep the power surges under control and the transmat portal open. With the energy already expended, Lena knew if it closed… it wouldn’t be possible to open it ever again.

The soldiers led by Alex and Nia appeared following a large explosion that completely caved in an entire section of the (thankfully, now empty) civilian barracks. Held up by Alex and Nia was Kara, bloodied and bruised, skin a sickly green as her eyes fluttered weakly and her mouth moved trying to form words, fighting desperately to remain conscious. A battle she lost a second after catching a glimpse of Lena hurrying towards them.

They made their way as a group (Lena and those that had taken the pivotal last stand) to the transport when the evacuation alarm was joined by a clinically detached voice calling out, “Power Level Critical.”

The transmat portal flickered before brightening and then dimming almost immediately. The power surges threatening the very integrity of the portal.

“Lena, we have to go now!” Alex shouted, jerking her head towards the last transport that her group of soldiers were already piling into when she saw Lena freeze mid-step.

Lena doesn’t remember making the decision. It was just instinct. She could work out the variables, could see the solution and just… acted. It didn’t require actual thought.

There was the portal that wasn’t safe for a transport to go through unless someone was making the necessary adjustments to the power in the command centre.

There was Kara, hurt and beaten but still so alive and so beautiful and without a doubt the love of Lena’s life.

It was never a choice, so how could Lena have made a decision.

“No, you have to go. I need to keep the power levels under control. You won’t make it, otherwise.” Lena said, her voice eerily calm and collected for what she was about to do.

The looks of absolute, sheer horror that appeared on Alex and Nia’s faces as understanding dawned would stay with Lena forever. It was the moment she realised she was making a sacrifice and not just carrying out a simply logical action.

“No, Lena…” Alex gasped, her brown eyes turning watery as she hefted Kara higher as if.. As if she was trying to shake Kara awake so that she could bear witness to what was happening. 

“There’s no other way.” Lena declared, striding forward to cup Kara’s perfect face in her hands before leaning down to press a soft, farewell kiss to Kara’s cheek. “I was really looking forward to that sunset.” Lena whispered quietly.

Lena took one second to memorise that light vanilla scent that she would always associate with Kara before letting go of the kryptonian and looking to the distraught sister, “Keep her safe.” Lena requested simply, “And…” Lena swallowed thickly, “Tell her to be happy. Just happy.”

And with those final words, Lena sprinted back to the command centre, yelling for Alex to “Go!”

It was a close thing in the end. The power surges were seconds away from blowing the portal, and the bunker along with it, to smithereens when the transport finally zoomed safely through to humanity’s new home. Lena cut off the power just in time to limit the extent of the explosion that followed. The portal blasted apart but it didn’t have enough oomph to rip through the bunker.

It did knock out the lights, though, leaving Lena in absolute darkness for the first week of her new existence as the last human on Earth.

***

Okay, so Lena needed to admit to something… just a small thing… it was just, she knew it made her sound… you know… not really all there…

She had a dog.

A… uh… robot dog… that she had built for herself for company…

And, you know, Tom Hanks had a volleyball so, in comparison to that Milo seemed far more… sane…

(Don’t worry she had resisted the urge to call it K-9 and she had made it far more mobile and life-like than the rather square Doctor Who companion).

His name was Milo, after the main character from Atlantis, one of Kara’s favourite films. He was sleek, more grey-hound shaped than terrier, but moved rather clunkily. He had a tendency to trip when going up or down staircase B5-1 since that particular set of stairs were a little steeper than the others in the bunker and Lena had forgotten to factor that in when she created him. Now, she found the little stumble he made on those steps gave him character, made him seem even more alive than the adaptive AI that operated him so she never bothered to fix it.

Lena resisted the urge to give Milo a voice, since a robotic voice coming from her robo-canine companion kind of ruined the image that she had of Milo being a real dog but she couldn’t stand the silence anymore, couldn’t stand only hearing her own voice.

That was the other thing… after a year she’d started narrating for lack of a better word. Commenting on her work, speaking her thoughts aloud rather than keeping them inside her head. Partly to add some sound to her quiet life and partly (but mostly) to remind herself she was still here, still had a voice. 

If a tree fell in the forest would it still make a sound?

Did Lena still exist if no one was around to see or hear her?

In year four of her solitary existence, the narration became full-on conversations with herself which eventually prompted her to create Milo after she realised that she had gone to bed two consecutive nights in a row angry at something she had said to herself.

Milo spoke to her in song.

“You’ll always be here to keep me company, right Milo?” Lena would ask after crying over The Notebook.

“I’m never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you.” Milo would blast at her through the speaker in his mouth alongside a friendly wag of his tail.

Lena was working on a beam with a crack in it, bending her head down to check on Milo who was looking up at her through green LED lights. “Did I get it all?” She called down.

“Higher, higher and higher. I said your love…” Milo directed, his LED eyes emitting a beam of light to point out a spot above Lena’s head.

He was a good dog overall, though he definitely had a preference for 80s classics much to Lena’s equal amusement and chagrin.

***

She tried not to think of Kara. But it happened.

The longest she had gone, not including sleep (though most of her dreams involved her blonde best friend so it wouldn’t have helped her average anyway), was three and half hours. An event which occurred during her drunken month in year two; she had grown irrationally angry at the transmat portal and had taken a crow-bar and smashed up the remains of the structure whilst listening to screaming death metal music.

She knew Kara would mourn her, miss her at least for the first year. But Lena knew she would keep herself busy. That there would be near endless tasks to occupy her mind and distract her heart and that whenever there was a lull or a break, the Superfriends led by Alex would be there to soothe whatever pain may surface.

Hopefully, by the second year Kara would be able to think of her and it be a joyful experience rather than one of pain. She knew Kara would still think of her often even one year removed from their separation (loss). Knew she had been significant enough to Kara to leave a wake behind.

By the third year, Kara would be ready - Lena didn’t doubt - to open her heart to another, to find someone else to fill the spaces Lena fleetingly occupied. There would be plenty ready and waiting, many probably far more deserving than Lena. 

Kara would find someone else to share that sunset with.

Years four to six, Lena hoped Kara would be rediscovering her passions, that her new home would be stable enough that Kara could get back to the things that made her happy. Lena hoped Kara was still writing, still turning her hand to paper and creating wonderful prose.

Years six onwards… Lena imagined Kara with a family of her own. The image would shift and change but there were always two children underfoot that Kara adored and both of which had inherited Kara’s blue eyes and pure heart. The other person in the picture was blank-faced, their features undetermined. Male or female, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was they put the brightest smile on Kara’s face possible.

“Just be happy.” Lena would whisper her plea out to the universe last thing at night and first thing in the morning. Because, if she said it enough, willed it enough then there was a chance she could make it true. Make the picture in her head of Kara real just by wishing it hard enough.

***

It was the start of her ninth year - Lena kept track by way of scratching into the walls a tally since it pleased her to think she was leaving some indelible mark on this place even if no one else would ever see it - and the knock was starting to become just that little bit more enticing. Lena had started to find herself walking up to the large blast doors and just… staring at them for hours on end.

It was only Milo that was keeping her going by this stage, blasting out, “Don’t you forget about me”, and “Oh, won’t you stay with me? ‘Cause you’re all I need”, whenever Lena’s fingers so much as twitched towards the manual override button.

Lena didn’t think too deeply about how her only reason for carrying on was the potential guilt that came with breaking the heart of a robot dog. 

“Spread it like peanut butter jelly...”

“Whilst I appreciate that you found the perfect song for my current actions”, Lena chuckled, casting an amused glance over her shoulder at her companion, whilst she spread the peanut butter over the plastic-like bread that had been made to last decades, “I don’t think you realise what that song is really about…”

Milo’s head tilted to the side at the words - Lena had designed him so that when he was processing new information or analysing anything he would tilt his head to the side like a real dog. 

“Oops!... I did it again…” Milo proclaimed, dropping to the ground with an embarrassed shake of his metal head.

“You’re still my best boy, don’t worry.” Lena reassured, finishing off preparing her lunch and making her way to the little living space she had made herself, a rather ratty red sofa and television screen had been added to the small room behind her lab that she had made her own. She had just sat down and was about to take a bite of her sandwich when-

Bzzzztttt…

That was new. 

The buzzing sound was so loud and clear that it felt like the entire bunker was vibrating with it. Lena was on her feet in an instant, Milo by her side, as she grabbed her tablet and went towards the source of the sound. As soon as the sound had begun, though, it decreased in volume to a mere hum. Outside Lena’s lab, in the long corridor covered in tally marks was a bright purple circle with blue streaks of light hovering below the ceiling. Beneath the light in a crumpled mass was a figure dressed in dark blue and crimson red with a silver cable connected to their centre which disappeared back up into the portal.

“Okay, I got the angle slightly wrong… Yep, face planted…”, The intruder groaned as they pushed themselves up to reveal a mess of hair. “I know, I can fly but I wasn’t thinking about flying and didn’t react in time… and-” The figure struggled to their knees and shifted round, finally catching sight of Lena who was simply standing there, mouth agape, leaning on Milo to keep her upright.

Kara.

It was in that moment that Lena saw a shade of blue she had been deprived of for over nine years. Kara’s eye colour, though, was possibly the only thing about her that hadn’t changed. 

Familiar golden curls had been cut away to be replaced by slightly darker blonde with the odd streaks of silver that only just grazed a jawline Lena’s fingers had traced countless times. Also gone was Kara’s defined and overly muscular body, she looked thinner… almost gaunt. Her cheeks hollower than they had ever been before. The crinkles around her eyes were nowhere near as deep as Lena had imagined them to be whenever she thought of Kara with her family. There were instead, however, lines around her mouth that implied she frowned more than smiled and that… that cracked whatever fragile grasp of reality Lena had left completely apart.

Because of this - Lena no longer trusting her eyes, unable to accept an existence where Kara hadn’t been happy, as Lena had begged the universe to make happen everyday - she didn’t truly see the expression on Kara’s face.

She didn’t see the sheer joy, the tears of elation, the broken smile that couldn’t smile as wide as it wanted due to being so out of practice.

“You’re here… You’re really here…” Kara breathed out, her blue eyes drinking in the sight of Lena shifting shyly from foot to foot as she stroked the smooth metal surface of Milo for comfort. 

“Kara.” Lena murmured, testing the word out in her mouth, trying to see if she still knew how to say it after all these years.

“Lena, you’re here…” Kara whispered totally awestruck, getting to her feet and taking slow, careful steps towards Lena, her fingers reaching out for the raven-haired woman.

“I don’t under-... this isn’t real… you’re not real… you can’t be real…” Lena stammered, shuffling backwards away from the ghost in front of her, unaware of the gasp of pain that it caused. “Did I answer the knock? Is this a dream? Milo analyse the surroundings and conditions.” Lena ordered, dropping her gaze to her tablet as she tapped frantically against the screen, mumbling her every thought out loud as she had become prone to do over the years. “Hallucination, most likely… potential causes… sleep deprivation? Unlikely, I have a set sleep schedule. Radioactivity has finally penetrated the bunker and has caused a multitude of health problems. Possible, though I take regular readings of-”

“Lena! Please, stop…” Kara cried, collapsing to her knees in front of Lena, tears streaming down her face. “I’m here, okay? I’m really here!”

“No! No!” Lena shouted in return, “This isn’t real! Because… because…” Lena’s breaths came out sharp and panicky as she was overwhelmed by a tempest of emotions she had worked so, so, so hard to deaden herself to over the last nine years. “You’re meant to be married! You’re meant to be happy! You’re not meant to be here…”

Fingers curled delicately around Lena’s biceps; she wasn’t even aware that she had fallen to her knees as well, that she had brought her hands up to cover her face.

The touch and its sheer gentleness almost made Lena jerk away but the barely there scent of vanilla instinctively made her lean forward instead, her head moving to rest as it always used to do on Kara’s reliable shoulder.

“Lena, how could I be happy without you?” Kara whispered, her fingers moving ever so carefully from Lena’s biceps, round to her back… so tenderly wrapping Lena up in her arms. “Let me take you home, please, please Lena… let me take you away from here, please…” Kara begged, pressing featherlight lips against Lena’s forehead. “Let’s go see that sunset, yeah?”

Lena pulled away so that her hands could move to cup Kara’s beautiful, anguished face, thumbs wiping away the endless tears, “You still want to? Even after all this time?”

“It’s all I’ve thought about.” Kara confessed, a breathtaking smile overtaking her face… and that… that one smile made it all worth it… made nine years in darkness… nine years alone all worth it. 

Lena loved how that smile stretched under her palms and she wondered how it would feel under her lips; the thought barely even crossed her mind before she started to lean forward to find out, Kara inhaling sharply as she realised what Lena intended, when-

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la, music play, do what the music say, you wanna kiss the girl.” Milo sang out for them, his metal tail thumping happily against the concrete floor, his green LED lights looking between his best friend and this blonde newcomer excitedly.

“Thanks, Milo.” Lena chuckled wetly, glancing over at her robo-dog before looking back to find Kara’s blue eyes sparkling with joy at her. “I have a robot dog, now.” Lena explained needlessly, cheeks turning an embarrassed pink.

“I can see that.” Kara replied with a laugh, her hand reaching out to brush through Lena’s dark hair, as she asked her voice brimming with hope, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am…” Lena admitted with a fervent nod of her head before pressing a delicate kiss to Kara’s cheek. “I want to see that sunset.”

[actualbampot]

White Noise: Chapter 3

Holy shit it’s been so long since I posted a chapter of White Noise but here you go (so slay me it was a bloody hard one to write) Read it on a03 HERE

Enjoy!

Existing through our need to self oblige leads not to gluttony, but to humanity in it's most corrosive form.

Cinder held her spine straight, focused ahead if it meant only to centre herself.

‘How did the Grimm find their way here?’ The pensive intone should have been foremost on her mind, not the way her blood was running hot. She knew better.

As the ring of glass heels born from surrounding dust quickened their chime, the sound of gunfire thundering from the upper levels became intermittent before falling disconcertingly silent.

It wasn't unheard of for a Grimm to scatter from it’s pack: Anima’s rocky woodland was treacherous, shielded by a valley of mountains that rendered radio’s in static. It was only logical that a Grimm in the area could lose it's bearings entirely.

And that a bunker dating back to the Great War would exist here.

Fortunate for Roman Torchwick that he insisted on being so useful, presenting his ‘Slice of Haven’ as he so distastefully described the run-down complex. To flee amidst the chaos of Beacon’s demise had been a timed effort, moving as swiftly as the news itself had spread to the other kingdoms. With Anima's borders sealing behind them, their footholds had been established almost immediately, no less on the doorstep to Mistral.

Cinder’s hand fell on the button to take service elevator up far heavier than necessary. Two floors underground and in the middle of nowhere. They were, essentially, off the grid.

Pacing back and forth, she could feel loose floor panels giving beneath her step as the creaking lift dragged to the ground floor at an infuriating speed. It was the price paid for a hideout operating on prewar Atlesian technology, and the wait was hardly helping to distract Cinder from the way she stung all over.

She could barely admit even to herself; Her torso, arms, face. Her pride.

Aura would repair the damage in due course, but there wasn’t much in the way of remedying how uncharacteristically unprepared she had been for the attack, no matter how meticulously planned. Unsurprisingly, that much could only be expected from an Atlesian Specialist.

Not to speak of one bearing the Schnee name.

With a shudder the elevator creaked to a halt, and Cinder paced down a lengthy corridor just adjacent to the main warehouse. Voices that couldn’t reach her before carried along the walls, shouting and strangled.

She swiped her tongue across her lips. A steadying inhale was supposed to steel frayed nerves- but the faint taste of rose petals on her tongue wouldn't allow it, treacherous and lingering on her senses.The urgency in her step faltered when touching the pads of her fingers to her lips, breathing in the distant scent of a blooming flower in midsummer heat; Her sullen, sweet little Ruby.

She succumbed like a flurry of petals trembling on the gale of a storm. It was almost unthinkable that the same girl who turned her gleaming, silver gaze to face impossible odds at the top of Beacon Tower now lay only existing, wholly dependant. Wholly empty.

And wholly hers.

Fractured and off-kilter was how Cinder had chosen to keep her, rewarding her weak and easily swayed heart with a nurturing hand. Distorting Ruby's perception remained a current, carefully executed task which painted Cinder in the only source of light the girl would receive. Unsurprisingly, Roman's glee when approached to play the malevolent role was only parallel to the sum of money Cinder had paid him to do so - and so he did, bending each and every truth that Little Red wholeheartedly believed in.

Given enough time isolated from colour, people, or anything that resembled more than the sound of her own heartbeat, Ruby had been prepared to believe any lie Torchwick spun, but most importantly that she was a victim rescued from atrocities committed by Ozpin and his so-called combat schools. That her guaranteed safety came aligned only with Cinder and no other.

Steel rattled not far off in the distance, dragging Cinder from her reverie to set about a faster pace. She expected a quadrupedal that could traverse the mountainside with ease had happened upon the front entrance, that unsuspecting White Fang soldiers unable to control their fear had attracted it inside.

Throwing open the double doors to the main warehouse with flames armed at her fingertips, she was ready to purge the Grimm to a blackened smoulder.

Cinder expected to find destruction, an ongoing fight against a larger Grimm. But on the floor Faunus bodies lay strewn and sunken in blood, drained from the same single, large puncture aimed directly at each of their jugulars. Executed.

Golden and sharp her eyes were drawn up beyond the bodies by the sporadic sound of clicking, plunging the blood pumping wildly through her veins into ice.

She saw Emerald and Mercury awkwardly knelt on the concrete, ensnared in red tendrils tangling their legs to their arms. Over them floated an inky blot, a shell of teeth and broken bone pulsing around a core of murky red. Nonplussed by Cinder’s arrival it hovered steadily as if in wait, all whilst Mercury and Emerald struggled to gasp past the tendrils wound around their throats.

Cinder was rooted on the spot, their eyes silently begging for her to intervene, but this was no ordinary Grimm. The remaining Faunus that had somehow managed to stay out of reach of it’s knifed limbs had it surrounded, dust-powered weapons raised.

“Wait.” Cinder announced, making herself known to the rest of the room. Eyes wide and frightened followed her as she stepped by the bodies to approach the Grimm, her hand quietly signalling the remaining Faunus to step back.

The Seer clicked in quickened beats, the change of rhythm echoing between corrugated walls just beyond the chime of Cinder’s heels. She stopped at a safe distance, unconcerned that it might harm her, but rather those in it’s grip.

Emerald was gasping, quickly turning blue while the coils around Mercury made to focus on keeping his legs pinned to the floor, and above them both the Seer’s bladed limbs precariously hung in gentle sway.

“I’m the one she sent you to search for. Aren’t I?” Cinder began barely above a whisper. “So release them. Your quarry is with me.”

She kept her focus without allowing her voice to waver, unable to afford showing weakness here despite how her pulse beat wildly against her ear drums.

Other than it’s unnervingly accelerated click the Seer did not seem to acknowledge her, and Cinder could sense doubt from the surrounding Faunus that a Grimm could comprehend human tongue let alone respond in any way, but the Maiden knew that with whatever cognitive function it possessed it was assessing it’s orders, deliberating it’s next moves.

Finally, the ropes loosened.

Emerald heaved forward on her hands, gulping down air the moment the Seer had released her. Similarly Mercury moved on his hands and knees, kicking the limbs away to catch Emerald beneath the arm, hoisting them both up and out of the Grimm’s reach.

“Piece of crap jellyfish” He cussed under his breath.

Cinder glanced between them, jaw drawn tight. They were shaken but otherwise unharmed, Mercury casting her a mute gaze of thanks before turning back to the now passive Seer, focused grey narrowed dangerously.

“Boss, let me take that thing out.” He snarled. From where Emerald was leant on her knees she managed a scowl of equal magnitude, one hand trembling as it reached back for her holstered sickle. “It got the spook on us before, but I ain’t gonna let it-”

“You will do no such thing.” Cinder said quietly.

Her disciples shared a stunned gaze, uncertainty flashing across Emeralds face first.

“But… Ma’am it slaughtered the Faunus here. It was about to-”

“And I want you both down below. Take the remaining workforce with you and ensure they remain there until this has been dealt with.” Cinder didn’t allow Emerald to finish, fixing them both with an icy look.

Not sparing them a moment more Cinder turned back to regard the Seer floating patiently in wait, her tightly drawn expression causing doubt creep onto both Mercury and Emeralds faces.

The boy breathed out of his nose when sluggishly Emerald was the first to move away, neither convinced of what exactly ‘dealing with it’ would entail. Trumping his apprehension with a snort, Mercury eventually tore away in Emeralds trail- almost colliding with the tanned girl as he did.

“What the- What’s the hold up.”

Looking down he saw pools of red widening in unmistakable panic, fixed on the double doors Cinder had just entered through, and as the remaining Faunus barrelled through them they paid no need to the small, dishevelled form that stood barefoot in blood matched to the same shade of her dark, unkempt hair.

She was white, and from here Mercury stood he could see, trembling from head to toe, her cheeks splashed with tears. “What the heck is she doing up here?”

“...

C...Cinder?”

No. Not here.

The woman turned stiffly, smouldering gold clashing with distant, blunt silver shadowed beneath the red tips of messy bangs.

Ruby Rose stood numbly by the double door entrance to the warehouse, taking small steps into a space packed densely with blood and bodies, unable to avert herself from the horror of her surroundings, and Cinder’s heart viced twofold.

Dim candle light and artificial fluorescence had stolen the rosy tinge from Ruby’s cheeks, and for a traitorous moment her thoughts weren’t of the very violence and bloodshed she had worked to shield the girl from, only how milky, pale skin seemed to glow in the natural light pouring from the shutters.

Her presence dropped a heavy weight on Cinder’s shoulder’s, dread too slow to soak into her bones before the temptation to taste the very tears from the girls cheeks with her lips caused all lucid thoughts to tailspin.

“Boss! Look out!!”

She heard the air whip before the warning had fully left Mercury’s mouth.

Bladed points hurtled to silence Ruby’s arresting fear, but the Maiden’s reaction was snap, and without thought reflex turned her into the attack before it could reach the girl.

Summoned glass stretched from her grip, only barely forming into an edged weapon of use when Cinder sliced upward through the ropes of the Seers elasticated limbs, combusting the floating entity into a curdled shriek.

Cinder managed to stave their momentum; the blades lost their target, carrying some way before uselessly clattering against concrete around Ruby’s feet.

The following silence was deafening, tension dense enough to strangle where even Ruby’s cold, vacant expression and sobs from her heaving chest bore no noise. Emerald and Mercury stood stunned, and though they could loosely theorise what had just happened it was Cinder and Cinder alone who understood the sheer magnitude of her actions.

Whether it was instinctual, or an attempt of self-preservation a Grimm did not hesitate in the presence of a human with eyes like Ruby’s, be it last Grimm in existence it would still charge blindly and foolishly forward.

Though a creature with little purpose in the destruction of mankind was without contrariety to this fact, the Seer floating before them crooked and limp was not here for this purpose, Cinder knew that.

So did she.

“...How nice to finally see you again, Cinder.”

The voice emanating from the Seer spoke unhurriedly, jarringly humble in spite of all that surrounded them, of what had just transpired.

The Maiden’s pulse beat wildly in her ears, knuckles whitening hotly until the grips of her makeshift, imperfect blades became viscous enough sink and mold between her fingers. The dark, syrupy eye swimming within the gelatinous body of the Grimm was fixed upon her, but it was the voice that froze her soul to a dead stop, mind cold with numb shock to all and everything.

“Salem.”

-

Something in the click of Cinder’s heels was off, each chime trembling in strain as if they might shatter with the next step she took.

Diversions in plans were inevitable, and any goal took setbacks into account in the event of compensating for them. Find a different route to accomplish the same means, make use of the resources on hand and if necessary, recruit more. It was this kind initiative that Cinder acted on by second nature.

Amber glinted over her shoulder to glance at the Seer following quietly, albeit slowly in her shadow. She hadn’t been foolish enough to believe that this wasn’t inevitable, yet why had she refused to account for it?

The Seer followed her through the bunker to an unused room on the derelict side of the hanger, intending to see this discussion through alone where all focus could be solely upon her. Mercury and Emerald did not argue with her orders a second time, especially when it involved escorting Ruby to the furthest part of the bunker and guarding the door after ensuring she was locked in.

Ruby… She could complicate everything beyond repair.

Cinder didn’t notice how painful the lump in her throat was until she swallowed.

Opening a door, she had led them to a room that at some point had functioned as an office, one that undoubtedly belonged to an officer during the Great War; The obsolete symbol of Mantle was identifiable between cracked drywall, as well as brandished on various files and paperwork strewn across the room.

Allowing the Seer to enter first Cinder closed the door behind them after casting a glance down the corridor to ensure she hadn’t been followed again.

“Paranoia is unbecoming of you, my dear.”

For some reason she hadn’t expected Salem’s voice, and prayed her mistress hadn’t notice how her shoulders tensed suddenly.

“Of course.” She answered evenly.

Cinder approached the Seer, and attempting to ignore the thumping in her ears she held her arms rigid at her side, bowing at the waist in such a way that angled her near-perfectly with the floor, dipping far deeper than necessary.

No voice acknowledged her greeting this time with only the Seers rhythmic clicking serving to fill the tense silence. When the moment felt longer than an eon, Cinder blinked, slowly swallowing before attempting to bridge the gap:

“Salem. I wish to-”

“Do not speak.”

The younger woman’s spine seized, her bow suddenly becoming painful to sustain. She stared at the worn, patchy carpet beneath her heels, searching for anything to steady and centre her, but Salem continued. “I do not believe the nature of my dissatisfaction is in question, but I will say i’m surprised that you would choose stand before me with such arrogance. Rise.”

A deep, quiet breath was taken in through her nostrils, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment before she forced her spine straight with arduous effort. In the Seer’s murky belly nothing gave Salem away, only the abyssal swirl of crimson smoke.

“I am going to ask you some very simple questions that require very simple answers.” She said, distaste becoming more and more prominent on the edges of her words. “Tell me, how long has it been since your last report?”

Cinder crossed her hands at the small of her back, out of the Seer’s and Salem’s sight to allow her fist to ball, tight enough to shake.

“Eight seasons, Ma’am.”

“Eight Seasons. Eight.” The razor's-edge on Salem’s tongue pressed in on Cinder’s vitals until the woman fought not to visually recoil. Her inhale was supposed to be calming when instead it stuttered in her chest as her mistress continued, slow and controlled; “I would like for you to explain to me..exactly why that is.”

“Unless I have misinterpreted my orders, our goal is to establish presence in Mistral. With the Kingdoms on high alert following our efforts in Vale, it was agreed that an indirect assault on Haven Academy-”

“And what do you pretend to know of my goals?”

Out of touch and out of contact; All that were present knew the answer, it would have been foolish of Cinder to claim otherwise but the tense silence that lay beyond the Seer told her that Salem’s question demanded a response.

“Nothing.” Cinder finally said, low enough that the word barely left her lips. “I have acted in my best judgement, as you have always trusted me to do.”

“And yet…I see your judgement has led you to undesired outcomes.” There was no mistaking the critical assessment that had caused Cinder’s hand to drift, open palm at the small of her back pressing to touch raw scars creeping from the cuff of her wrist. Her chin sunk a little as if it might hide the heavy wound that snuck along her jaw, and notch where her lobe used to be.

Though, there was nothing to be done about her state of dress. Dark lace and crimson asymmetry held to her body like a second skin, but where the signature sigils would have glowed with warm power they remained only as ruptured threads of dust, scorched to black and exposed like frayed wires.

“Explain.”

Their unmarked Bullhead routinely travelled to the outskirts of Mistral, slowly leaking Cinders authority into the lawless lower levels of the city, building capital, acquiring small businesses both honest and.. specific, until loyalties eventually fell in line. That had been the task assigned to her, albeit whilst such orders were tethered to valid goals

Cinder took a deep breath. “Our position in Mistral was leaked to the White Fang splinter group in conjunction with three huntresses. Granted the attack was carried out with unexpected magnitude; it reeked of desperation.”

Lacing together subterfuge with half-truths spouted as if a tongue of their own.

True to her word the landing pad had been rigged with explosives. Such things couldn’t harm her as it had the Bullhead, it’s pilots and her Faunus escorts, but the blurs of White, Black and Yellow that followed were another story, and one that Cinder chose her words carefully in telling.

“In ensuring the secrecy of our operation, my efforts were overextended.”

Had Cinder not bore the brunt of the attack she may even have applauded Weiss Schnee’s command of her semblance, and what unorthodox technique she had conjured to ignite the very molecules of dust itself.

Sewing dust into clothing was an age-old artistry Cinder prided herself in, but not even she could have foreseen it to be exploited against her.

However unconventional the application of Weiss Schnee’s semblance was, Cinder only remembered the velocity of impact targeted at the raw lines of dust in her clothing...closely followed by a volatile and explosive reaction that had sent her sprawling across the landing deck.

The noise still rung in her ears, vibrating the very roots of her teeth.

It wasn’t until she’d fully come to that Cinder realised the extend of what the little white witch had done, and with her Aura as it’s fuel the dust had ignited post explosion, fusing her burning clothing to her skin. Until Ruby stopped it.

Salem remained silent, informing no reaction to Cinder’s explanation, so she continued “The attack nor it’s perpetrators are a concern any longer, I’ve taken care-”

“I did hope…” Salem spoke over her shortly before she softly exhaled a sigh that had Cinder’s brows gathered. Her mistress was uncharacteristically quiet as if considering her words.

The next drawl told Cinder it was anything but: “...That your isolation had forced growth upon you. That you would continue to temper the edge of your newfound powers and drive results through your own initiative.” Her voice did not waver, did not carry anger nor disappointment, but all the same Cinder felt a bolt of uneasiness through her chest.

“How wrong I was.

Move your administration from this isolation.” The last word was punctuated on the razors edge of Salem’s teeth, and for the first time since their discussion began, Cinder recoiled. “And remove yourself from the sheer unutterable callowness you have surrendered to.”

The Maiden’s tongue lay heavy in her mouth, caged within a jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. There was nothing that could be said where Salem’s word lay in stone no less than the Gods themselves. It had been so long since she’d truly yielded, the final tilt of her waist caving into a deep bow, laden with the weight of Salem’s will.

Avoiding looking into the Seer, gold remained downcast when Cinder turned to take her leave.

“I do find it curious” Salem said. “That you would choose to keep the silver eyed girl with you, despite my warnings.”

Cinder stopped. Her feet, the air, everything suddenly weighed of lead, least of all the gaze pierced onto her nape. Salem spoke lightly, but there was no mistaking the demand driving her query, so as steadily as she could Cinder fixed her expression and turned back to regard the Seer.

“Tell me, is she obedient?”

A cycle of questions tumbled in a nonsensical mess in Cinder’s head, and no less in the same moment that speaking her mind would undoubtedly yield serious consequences.

For the first time since the encounter began, Cinder felt real fear plucking at her frayed nerves. She didn’t like where this was going.

“Yes.” She asserted after a long moment, fighting tremors on the edge of her voice. “Perhaps of no practical use but her progress is promising. Given more time-”

“Time...an indulgence seldom had by many.” Salem’s voice was slow, a hint of displeasure in her tone. “And of which you most certainly have none, child.”

Nothing about this felt familiar, not the way Cinder’s heart seemed to wrench in different directions, or how the desire to open her mouth and dare protest against her mistress came without thought.

“The mission stands as your only priority” Salem interjected, her implication clear. “You are to migrate your administration to Haven within the week. As for the silver eyed girl, I have decided she will accompany me here as I determine her usefulness. I am sending Doctor Watts to-”

“Is that wise?” Anyone, even Cinder should have recognised she was exceeding the boundaries of Salem’s tolerance for failure.

As a child she witnessed subordinates throwing themselves before Salem’s feet to plead forgiveness, appealing to her wisdom or even more foolishly, her humanity: Their fates were sealed by their own hands, a truth the same as her own; risking herself over a negligible fixation was absurd.

Yet the rationale born of discipline felt like a lesson long forgotten, in its place there was only heat and anger at the first mention of Ruby. Any intention Salem had for the girl only meant she be taken from her and Cinder could not, would not accept it. “Her kind around the Grimm, around you.” She pressed heavier, roughly. “If something were to happen-”

“Your assurance that the girl is obedient should alleviate such concerns should they not, Cinder? You have your orders.”

“She's mine.” The Maiden snarled.

The air cracked, red ropes lashing towards her and ensnaring her throat in the Seer’s relentless grip. Cinder choked out, her eyes wide and aflame as it’s limbs coiled upward around her face and mouth, screeching as it wrenched her off-balance. Before Cinder had a chance to realise what was happening she was already on her knees.

“You’ve grown ignorant.”

Her lungs burned as she gasped for air, writhing more in shock and rising panic than any logical attempt to free herself, and for it the Seer was unyielding. Coiling around her left arm, it twisted from the shoulder to wrench up in a way a human limb should not.

Cinder stopped struggling immediately, keeping shouts of pain caged behind clenched teeth.

“You’ve grown soft-”

Salem's voice rolled out slowly, layered in calm as if conversing with a familiar acquaintance. Apparently she was most comfortable with her most revered strung up and noosed.

Strength flared in Cinder’s eyes, and as if in anticipation the Seer snuffed her defiance out by tearing her neck and shoulder in opposite directions, and the woman parted with a cry that shocked her as much as the pain did.

“-And it is clear that you have lost your objectivity. Allowing you to operate independently was a mistake, and while the blame in trusting your selfish, self-driven motivations falls on my shoulders I cannot help but to find this behaviour sorely disappointing.”

Cinder buried her Aura deep down, knowing that to defend herself would be to admittance of her guilt, but as the coils around her pulled with the intention to tear she instead found herself stabbing in the dark out of desperation.

“...I-I gave you Ozpin, gave you Beacon!-”

“With the power granted to you by me. You would be wise not to forget that, child.

Now, do you submit?” Salem asked, dangerously soft and doing nothing for Cinder’s festering trepidation.

Black began to dot the edges of her vision, swimming and airless her hands attempted to reach for the coils around her neck only to be wrenched and strangled tighter, utterly denied.

She heard the question once again bled out from between Salem’s lips as though listening from underwater, all whilst the Seer bore down from above, Cinder’s tunnel of vision filled with the judgement of crimson eyes blurred into abyssal black as if sucking the very soul from the Maiden’s body.

“Your infractions extend far beyond what I believed you capable of, and they will be addressed when your task in Mistral is complete. Make no mistake, Cinder.”

She fell numb, gears churning and stalling on one another without the capacity to conceptualise what to say. Salem had left no room for anything other than Cinder’s complete compliance, be it with her teeth bared and squeezed out as if each word rawed her throat until bloody.

“I submit.”

[talesmaniac89]

Flirting 101

Summary: Castiel x Reader: Castiel tries to flirt with the reader, using pick up lines he got from Dean, and failing adorably. 

Word Count: 2062

Triggers: None just fluff

Y/N = Your name 

---

You’d been pages deep into your research for your ongoing case when Castiel walked through the door. Looking slightly awkward as he stopped short of where you were lounging on the couch. Just like it always did, your heart did that little leap into your throat as your eyes found his shockingly blue ones across the room. And, just like you always did, you played it off with a small friendly smile. Pretending his arrival didn’t throw your whole world out of balance as you forced yourself to stay comfortably as his friend.

“What’s up Cas?” You said, internally patting your own back for your smooth acting as you put the papers down on the coffee table in front of you. If hunting ever failed you as a profession, you could always go ahead and become an actress. You got the whole friendly-and-definitely-not-drooling-at-you act down to a T.

Castiel let his head fall slightly to the side as he looked at you with a mildly confused look. Like a goddamned puppy unable to understand the meaning of your words. His brow furrowed as his eyes left yours to look up at the ceiling of the Men of Letters bunker before returning his piercing gaze right back to you after nothing but a short reprieve.

“We are underground, so a lot of things are up…” Castiel somehow managed to phrase the words as a factual statement and a question at the same time as he looked at you, finally stepping slightly closer to where you were still seated. Though he was still halfway across the room from you. “Is there something in particular I should see?”

“No.. It’s just a greeting… Y’know, never mind. Hi Cas,” Your attempted explanation failed before it even left you as you watched the adorable furrow in Cas’ brow only deepen at your words. Your simple greeting easily bringing a small smile to the lips of the angel before he once more got that pensive, slightly awkward look that he’d had when he entered the bunker library.

“Hello (Y/N). I… I have something I wish to discuss with you. No, I mean ask… I have something to ask you,” The angel in a trench-coat in front of you was fumbling through his words, looking increasingly uncomfortable as he spoke. The way he was acting caused you to automatically sit up a little straighter. Whatever he had that he needed to ask you had to be important if it was causing the usually stoic angel to act so strangely. And in your business, important was usually just a synonym for weird, strange or really fucking bad.

“Sure shoot, I mean… Ask away,” You corrected your choice of words to keep Cas from once more derailing the conversation by misunderstanding you. No matter how cute you found the angel when he pulled that confused puppy look now was definitely not the time.

Yet, though it seemed as if you agreeing to listen should have made the angel jump into action and tell you whatever it was that was on his mind, he stayed silent. From time to time he’d open his mouth, only to close it again with a frown and a head shake. Something was definitely up. Especially considering how weird the angel was acting. 

Castiel normally stood completely still, but there he was, fidgeting back and forth in front of you like a schoolboy caught doing something bad. As you caught him once more opening and closing his mouth without speaking before turning to look around the room you decided you had to be the one breaking the silence as he seemed incapable of letting you know what was going on.

“What’s wrong? Do you need me to call Dean and Sammy in?” The two questions left you in quick succession as a million others patiently waited their turn in your mind. If it was that hard for Cas to bring it up it had to be major. Like, end-of-the-world major. Maybe he needed your help with something possibly life threatening? Or maybe he had still not understood whom or what you’d be fighting properly. With the way he was acting it seemed like the world was actually about to end in just a few mere seconds.

“No! No… I just need to ask you. Not them,” Castiel’s eyes had widened at your questions, and  his voice was slightly higher than normal as he dismissed the need to bring the two other hunters into the fray. His blue eyes, the colour of the sky on a sunny day, were once more focused fully on you as he shook his head. Yet, the actual question in need of answering didn’t follow like you’d thought it would. Instead he just looked at you, swallowing audibly in a way that really made you fear for the worst. What could be so bad that the Winchester’s couldn’t join in? And why did he need you and only you?

Hell, you’d fantasized about the angel needing you more than once. But this… This wasn’t exactly  what you’d had in mind. If the wide-eyed look and fidgeting ways of the angel of the lord standing in front of you were anything to go by, it seemed like it might be your turn to sacrifice yourself for the greater good and meet your maker. Figuratively of course, since God had been nowhere to be found for decades, eons even.

“What is it Castiel? Unless you tell me I can’t answer or help you,” You bit back the urge to raise your voice out of frustration as you watched Cas struggle with whatever it was he needed to ask you. It was clearly hard for him to ask, though it really shouldn’t be. Firstly you were (secretly) in love with the feathery fool and secondly you would do whatever it took to help your friends, family and, by extension, the world. Still, by the way Cas took another two steps forward and seemed to steel himself you guessed some of your agitation still shone through though you’d try to keep it at bay. So much for that acting career…

“Ok… (Y/N) I need to.. Need to ask you something,” Castiel parroted his earlier words before taking a slightly shaky breath and focusing his eyes somewhere right above your head. “Were you… No wait,” Cas frowned as he turned slightly away from you, as if he was hiding something before, just as quickly, turning back.

“Was I what Cas?” Ok, now you were more confused than worried. The angel didn’t make any sense. Or, less sense than normal at least…

“Did you run through my mind? Because I am checking you out… No wait,” Castiel’s words left him fast and jumbled as the angel panicked in front of you. Your own thoughts, as you gaped at the awkward angel in front of you, were no less panicked as you tried to make sense of what was happening. “No,,  I mean, are you ice cream? Uh, no, You could never be ice cream, because… Wait, this makes no sense, you are human and…” Castiel continued to fumble adorably in front of you, looking increasingly awkward and panicked, his hands fidgeting and the normally direct and stoic angel going to great lengths to avoid looking directly at you.

Yeah… From your point of view it suspiciously looked like Cas was trying to flirt with you. But that was impossible. Not only was this the same guy who didn’t understand phrases like “what’s up”, but you’d always resigned yourself to being, at best, a friend and, at worst, an acquaintance that just happened to live with Dean and Sam that Cas just kinda tolerated. Yet, as Castiel continued speaking, his eyes going to his own shaking palm as if he was double checking something you realised that your suspicions were most likely correct.

“Are you an... No,” Cas sighed in frustration as he looked back down at his open palm, no longer turning to shield the gesture from your confused eyes. “Did you fall out of… No, sorry. I mean did it, uh, hurt when.. This isn’t going to work is it?” Damn it, he was too adorable.

“Cas, are you… Trying to pick me up?” You asked, finally finding your voice again as your maybe not so unrequited crush stood, shoulders slumped, in front of you. A personal summer storm of butterflies and rays of fucking sunshine causing havoc on your heart, stomach and mind as you desperately fought the urge to smile until you were 100% sure you weren’t just dreaming. Hell, you even stealthily pinched your own arm in confirmation. You’d been in love with the angel since the first time he showed up out of nowhere, literally descending from heaven and flipping your whole existence out of balance with his small smiles, and larger than life heart.

“What? No, I’m not lifting you at all (Y/N). I-I was trying to… Flirt,” Castiel seemed to stutter a little over the words as he hid the hand he had been constantly looking at behind his back and turned his eyes downward towards the ground. “Dean said that was how I should show my intentions. But I failed,” Seeing the angel’s shoulders slump further as he got that sad, confused puppy dog look squeezed at your heart with enough force to make you momentarily breathless as you looked at him.

“No, you didn’t fail. Well, you did. But, yeah…” Your own words were coming out as jumbled as those of the angel. If anyone had been watching they would’ve found it hard to believe that the two of you were a part of the group that had saved the whole human race from extinction time and time again. Not when neither of you could string a full sentence together without becoming a hot mess. “Cheesy pick up lines aren’t the best for flirting anyway Cas, it’s best to say what you mean. Like…. I-I… I mean, I like you,” This time it was your turn to carefully study the floor, ceiling and everything that wasn’t the angel in front of you.

“You do? But… I failed,” Castiel was an adorable mix of confused, hopeful and worried as he finally lifted his eyes, though you still kept yours low, looking instead at his shirt and tie combo, where it was peeking out underneath the oh-so familiar trench-coat. “Dean said…You like me? As in how I like you?”

“Yeah, I do Cas… I like you,” The words came easier the second time around as you  finally let the butterflies in your stomach free with a shy smile aimed towards the angel.

“So Dean’s flirting worked?” Cas looked confused, happy, but confused as he carefully took a step closer to where you were sitting, unable to get up since your legs had somehow turned to jelly and refused to work. “I thought… I thought I failed?”

“No, Dean’s flirting didn’t work.That stuff normally never works. What worked was you Cas. Your kindness, the way you care so much about all of this, all of us. Everything about you… That worked. Not Dean’s awful lines,” You said with a small laugh, finally properly meeting his eyes and seeing the pure wonderment that shone in them. “It would have been better if you just did it your way,” Though seeing him suffer through delivering those lines had been excruciatingly cute, but you'd never tell him that.

“So, if… If I tell you my…” Castiel cut himself off with a shake of his head and quickly dropped down to his knees so that his head was at the same height as yours on the couch. His azure eyes shone with determination and the earlier awkward fumbling was nowhere to be seen as he finally said the only words he had to say. His deep voice sending pleasurable vibrations up and down your spine. “I like you (Y/N), and I wish to start a relationship with you,”

This time you were the one left a bit tongue-tied. So, in lieu of words, you leaned in and placed a soft peck on your angel’s lips. Happy to see that that didn’t get lost in translation as Castiel broke out in a smile a thousand times more charming than any pick up line.

Forever tagged: @auszimbo @upon-a-girl