#Rift Fic

[natalievoncatte]

There was a knock at Lena’s door, and it startled her awake. She was awake, but also wasn’t, sitting in a side chair beside her sofa with a glass of whisky still in her hand, loosely held by tired, nerveless fingers. It nearly fell from her palm when the sound jolted her from the twilight between fitful wakefulness and falling asleep sitting up. By her side was that goddamn picture, the glass still cracked. She grabbed it and forced it down so she didn’t have to see her grinning face, feel the ghost of a warm soft cheek lightly grazing hers.

The whisky made a fiery stab at her heart as she finished it and went to the door. She already knew who it was, the only person who’d dare disturb her at this hour, and who could get past her security.

Kara stood in the hall, clad in fluffy pajamas and disbelieved, tracks left by hot tears still cut into her soft rosy cheeks. There she was, the pretty little crying princess again.

It was an act. It was bullshit. The real her was hiding behind it, standing tall, appraising Lena’s faults with eyes that could burn mountains, the cold judgment of an extinct empire carved into her godlike, inhuman beauty. Lena made herself see that, refused to let her guard down.

“What, Kara?”

“Can I come in?”

Lena didn’t even answer. She began to close the door, only for her movement to be arrested by a single word.

“Please.”

Part of her made her stop. She seethed against it, hated it. She had carved icy knives of vengeance to carve it out herself. Alcohol had failed to drown it and the sharpest logic was dull against it. It was both too hard to crush and too soft to squeeze, this hateful thing that coiled around her heart and made her feel when she had sworn never to feel again.

Kara took a halting step forward. Lena threw out her palm and pressed it into her chests, stopping her.

She shouldn’t have done that. There was something heady and intoxicating in it. Kara froze in place, and Lena could feel her pulse along her collarbones. The pinnacle of alien might, strength so vast that nothing could stand as her equal, and she stopped from Lena’s lightest touch. That was power.

“What do you want?”

“Just to talk.”

“I’ve heard your apologies. Don’t waste my time unless you have some new material.”

Kara licked her lips. “Maybe.”

They couldn’t stay like this. Resting a hand on her chest had too many possibilities. Touching her had too many implications. It would be so easy to let the soft thing win and bring her hand up and hold her palm to that soft cheek and seek to balm those tears, make it better, care.

She let herself remember that Kara’s pain was a shoeld for Supergirl’s judging wrath and pulled back, but she didn’t close the door. Kara did as she slipped inside.

Thee was a heavy pause of silence, where Kara just breathed, soft and ragged.

“Why are you here?” said Lena.

“I needed to see you. I needed to know you’re safe.”

“Nightmares?”

“Worse,” said Kara. “It was so much worse.”

The agony in her voice shook Lena.

Forcing herself to composure, she poured another three fingers of single malt and flipped into her chair, extending neither drink nor invitation to Kara. The drink was a bad idea. It was dangerous. The smokey, hazy heat of it burned the soft bitter taste of regret from her teeth. Lena didn’t look at her.

“It was the imp.”

“Excuse me?”

“It calls itself Mxy. It says it’s from the fifth dimension but I have no idea if that’s true or not. All I know is that it has vast powers, even godlike. The last time it… it tried to force me to marry it.”

Lena knew what darkness in her birthed the hot rage in her gut, the possessive jealous fury that welled within her at those worse. This thing, how dare he.

She took a drink.

“It… he came to me tonight and said he wanted to make amends. He offered to let me change the past. I could fix whatever I wanted.”

“Hmm. Must have been a trick,” said Lena. “Let me guess, restoring Krypton had some ironic Twilight Zone twist.”

Kara blanched, blinking. “No, I… I didn’t even think of that. I asked him to help me fix us.”

There is no us, Lena began to say, but the words died on her tongue. She washed the taste away.

Something in her twisted, a cold shiver like a water dumped over her head. She knew Kara’s bullshit super senses would pick up on it and steeled herself.

Rubbing her arms, Kara paced.

“I tried telling you at different times, so you’d hear it from me and not Lex or someone else.”

“What happened?” Lena said, trying to look more interested in her whisky than the answer.

It was purely an intellectual curiosity, she told herself.

“You died,” Kara said, blunt. “You died every time.”

“How?”

Every which way. Reign killed you five or six times. Mercy blew your brains out all over my chest. Lex… Lex could be creative. Poison, blades, fire once. He was fond of sadistic choices and clever tortures. Say, use red wavelengths to negate my powers and set up a sadistic challenge I could never pass, that sort of thing. It got so bad I stupidly wished I’d never met you.”

Her voice was ragged, breathing uneven. Fresh tears glittered on her cheeks and Lena felt herself lunge, start to stand. Kara’s pain called out to something in her, something beyond the physical or even the emotional. It was like something in Lena’s soul yearned to stop that terrible pain.

“The worst was when you drowned. Almost.”

Lena looked away, swirled her drink.

“Sounds like you kept trying.”

“I did. The timeline where we never met was one of the worst. I wasn’t there when your chopper crashed. Your mother… you tried to kill me and I couldn’t even fight back.”

“Is this where we segue into the ‘I would never hurt you’ lecture?”

“No. I did hurt you. I deserve your hate. If someone else did to you what I did, I’d snap their neck.”

Lena flinched. There was something cold in that admission, something brutal and beyond even Supergirl. Raw.

None of her rules matter for me.

A tiny voice in that darkness whispered to her: And if some poor bastard locked her in a Kryptonite cage the way you did, they’d be begging you for death. They’d know you’re a Luthor.

Lena shuddered.

“What do you do?”

“I kept trying. I thought… I felt… I had to keep trying.”

“Well, you gave up and came here eventually. You…”

Kara swallowed hard. “It thought it worked, finally. I picked the night I reached you from Corben. Remember that?”

“I remember,” Lena said, hesitant.

Kara Danvers believes in you.

“I told you when you asked me why I saved you. I took you home, made sure you were safe. Life went on. These… these timelines or whatever they were, Lena, they were real. I lived them. That one was, it was…”

“What?”

“A few days later after things calmed down we went to lunch. We were just chatting about something unimportant and you looked at me and our eyes met and it was like…”

Kara looked away from her, wrapping her arms around herself the way she did, not a smug Supergirl pose but a woman shielding her heart from the world that clawed at it.

“When I first arrived on Earth there was a night where my powers had just kicked in and I looked at the sky. I could see more than stars. There was an aurora that was invisible to humans. I could see invisible lines of energy crackling between the stars, the cosmic background radiation shimmering on the dark. Can you imagine that? I can see the remnants of the Big Bang when I stargaze.”

Lena’s had trembled, the dregs of her booze shaking in the bottom of the glass.

“It was like that,” said Kara. “I knew I’d never be the same. I was staring at you like a big goof and you just stopped talking and stared back. I blurted out ‘is this a date?’”

Lena clutched the glass so she wouldn’t drop it and forced the tears back with all her might, but she was weak. Always weak.

“I take it I said yes,” she managed to say, voice quivering.

“We got married three years later. Lori was born a year after that.”

“Kara,” Lena began.

“Then it happened.”

“Kara, shut up.”

“Kalibak killed you. My sister. My little girl. My everything.”

Lena hurled the glass and Kara snatched it from the air in a superhuman blur. Lena was already on her feet, stabbing an accusing finger.

“So what?” Lena demanded. “We’re star-crossed lovers, now? Is this your ploy to fix it? Make me realize how in love we are? It’s a sick joke, Kara.”

“I know I can’t fix it,” said Kara. “I don’t want to.”

Lena blinked, her rage momentarily cooled. “What?”

“I would rather live in a world where you hate me as long as you’re still in it.”

“Kara,” Lena said.

“We are star-crossed. I don’t know want I did to deserve this but I can’t fix it. There was never a right time to tell you. It was doomed from the start. I’m here to tell you to let me go, Lena.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I know about Non Nocere. I know what you’re trying to do. I’m here to ask you to stop. Please. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin you life over me.”

“Why couldn’t you just save me and leave?” Lena demanded. “That’s what everyone else gets. A quick rescue and a wave and a wink and you’re gone. Why did you have to drag yourself through my life and wreck everything?”

“I tried that.”

Lena screamed, bellowed at the top of her lungs.

“So what? So fucking what, Kara?”

Kara just stood there.

“I don’t know. I just… I just had to see… all I want is for you to be safe.”

Lena turned away from her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” Kara choked out, behind her. “I did go back to Krypton one time. I told him I wanted to stay and die with my world, that it was the only way.”

“Let me guess, you did that and…”

“Car accident.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Lena cried. “You have to be kidding me.”

“He made me watch. Not just you, everyone else that died because there was no Supergirl. I… I think I’m in Hell.”

Lena blinked. She turned slowly. A memory came flooding back to her from another time, a closed casket in a small Irish church with Lionel Luthor lurking, waiting for her with an entourage. She’d asked the priest in her precious child voice, am I in Hell, Father?

A sob forced itself out of her. She let herself look at Kara, standing there bedraggled and teary eyed in rumpled Hello Kitty pajamas and felt sick, like she’d swallowed a belly full of rancid oil. All she could see was the hurting, and she wondered if that was it, if this pain was the source of the unbreakable quantum entanglement that had dragged this alien being across a gulf of stars to fuck up her life.

Or save it.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dragged you into my life.”

“I’m not,” Kara whispered. “It was a gift, every minute of it. I wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything. Even the ones that didn’t happen.”

“What the hell do we do?” said Lena.

“I leave. I keep saving you. You find someone else, live your life, be happy. I do everything I can to keep you in this world and watch you grow old. That’s it. I should go.”

Kara turned and Lena screamed, balling her fists.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave this penthouse, Kara Danvers.”

Kara froze.

“I went back.”

“Went back to what?” said Kara.

“I went back to let you out of the Kryptonite cage. I couldn’t stop thinking of you lying on that cold floor in pain so I had to go back, but you weren’t there. I… I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I want to stop this but I just keep going and I don’t know what to fucking do anymore. I’m so lost.”

Kara’s shoulders slumped.

“I would take it back if I could.”

Kara turned back to her.

“You don’t have to.”

Lena backed away, unable to look at her. Kara crossed the gap in seconds and tenderly rested her hands on Lena’s arms.

“I’m sorry. I mean it. I am truly sorry from the depths of my soul. I would fix this if I could.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” said Lena. “It makes my soul hurt, and I don’t believe in souls.”

Lena pulled her in, clinging to her as if she might disappear. Kara was tentative, testing with every movement.

God, they had a daughter. A child! Lena could imagine, almost see… what had she done?

“It’s going to be okay,” Kara said. “I think this is what I was supposed to learn.”

“What?”

“To own my mistakes, and if I don’t want you to be a villain, I shouldn’t treat you like one.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I should go home and let you rest. This is a lot, I know, and it’s late. I…”

Kara trailed off, and Lena looked up at her. Their eyes met, and Lena… knew.

“Will you come back?” said Lena.

“Always.”

[thatonebirdwrites]

Cheating Death

Each breath cost her another second. Each step another half second. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears, and her vision narrowed to a point. She gripped the railing and pulled herself up another step, one hand pressed against her side. Blood oozed and soaked her blouse.

Another attempt on her life, but this time she doubted anyone would come to save her. Why would they?

She'd burned those bridges in the flames of fury and pain. Her heart, the betraying organ, still pulsed for one person, the one who had lied to her, betrayed her trust, used her. So she'd used her in turn. Lashed out in fury and pain. Each time her former best friend did something kind to "make up" for her betrayal, she ignored her traitorous heart.

She'd followed through, except now that she had Myriad. She'd screamed and yelled at Kara, unleashing all her pain and grief.

She should have stayed at the well defended bunker, but Eve-Hope hadn't finished boxing up the equipment. So she'd left Myriad in a safe and portaled back to the lab to carry some of the boxes herself. She'd tried to plan the move before she tricked Kara into taking her to the fortress, but Leviathan kept mucking up her plans.

Their attacks had accelerated everything.

But she'd badly miscalculated today. Her mind had been too focused on her fight with Kara. The look of pain and grief on Kara's face when she left haunted her, but she'd set the prison to last only long enough for her escape. Kara would be free now, recovering likely.

She took a shuddering breath. Pain clawed up her side at the muscle use, the wound searing like the sun.

She hadn't expected the attack to happen.

But then she had stole something from Leviathan. The stupid medallion which should have been hers not Andrea's. She laughs, bitterly, and her vision splinters. Darkness mocks her, but through sheer will she forces herself up another step.

Her project, her work to build a future where no one could hurt another like Kara did -- all lost because Eve-Hope had given her life to save Lena Luthor.

"Get down, Miss Luthor!" Eve-Hope had shouted. She pushed Lena against the floor, turned, and sprinted at the assassin. Bullets rained down, and the horrible thuds as they hit Eve's body echoed in Lena's mind. Just like when she'd shot her brother.

Eve-Hope swung her make-shift weapon, a piece of a chair, and clubbed the assassin. Both tumbled into the stairwell. Lena rolled herself to her knees and staggered to the door, her side burning. The assassin grunted and punched Eve-Hope. The other stumbled at the blow, which gave the assassin a clear window to Lena. She took one last shot, but again Eve-Hope stepped in front of the pistol.

She fell then, unable to stay upright, and Lena in a fit of rage slammed her body against the asassin's. They'd hit the wall, both scrambling to grab the pistol that had clattered to the floor a few feet away.

Lena had won. One shot, and her attacker was motionless.

But she'd also lost.

"Miss Luthor," Eve-Hope whispered. "It was an honor."

Lena had wept yet again that day.

No human cared for her. Only an AI who saved her, and now, like a fool, she'd staked everything on Hope's calculations. She'd gotten too cocky and forgot to hook her to the backup this past week.

She watched as her project died in a human body. She closed Eve-Hope's unseeing eyes and hunted for her phone.

The screen had cracked during the fight, and her fingers slicked with blood couldn't unlock. Her own phone was not in her pockets, fallen somewhere in the fight.

Whatever the assassin had done blocked all signals as none of the bars showed in the corner of the malfunctioning screen. She had throw Eve's phone in disgust, the screen cracking further when it hit the wall.

Eve died for Lena, and what had Lena done for her? Forced her AI Hope into Eve as punishment for her betrayal.

Today was her punishment for her hubris. She'd cheated death far too many times, mostly thanks to Supergirl. But she'd burned all bridges with Kara.

No, no one was coming. She had to save herself. So she'd started crawling up the steps, desperate to reach where she kept a spare phone.

Half the blood on Lena's clothes was from Eve, the rest from the bullet deep in her side.

She could press the button on the watch Supergirl gave her. But after what she did? Encasing her in Kryptonite?

She regrets it. Now that death laughs in her face, she regrets her actions. Regrets everything. She'd been so focused on her pain, her anger, that she'd failed to see what lay right in front of her.

She loves Kara. She had always loved Kara. She tried to remind herself of the truth: the one person she loved the most had stabbed her with her lies, and yet her mind teases her with memories of Kara's confession, her tears, and her desperation.

"I was selfish," Kara fiddled with her glasses, her tears streaming down her cheek. "I was so selfish. I'm sorry, Lena."

Tears stung Lena's eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but only succeeded in wiping blood across her cheeks.

"Selfish," she muttered with a sour laugh. She pulled herself up another step and paused at the pain.

Kara Zor El Danvers had kept her in the dark because she was a coward. She was afraid to lose Lena. She wanted to be just Kara with someone. She'd been selfish.

At the time, Lena had put Kara in the same category as her mother and Lex. People who claim to love her but used her when they needed it with no regard for how Lena felt.

But now, as death danced along her spine, she reviewed her time with Kara. All those moments of laughter, of cuddling on her sofa, the movies they watched, the lunches shared. How gently but firmly Kara hugged as if afraid Lena would vanish if she let go.

No, her selfishness differed from Lex, who used Lena like a chess piece. Dangling brotherly love only to snatch it away. Lifting up Lena and her work, only to destroy it. She couldn't escape his legacy, how everyone tied her to him. Even when she fought to repair the damage of his legacy.

Even in death he haunted her. The brother she'd killed for Kara and their friends.

Kara had acted like a jerk sometimes as Supergirl, judgmental and aloof, but she'd always shown up when Lena needed her. Like a fool, she'd done the same unable to stay away. Both of them had given and given. Kara had broken the law for Lena just because she wanted to help Lena feel better. All the times Supergirl saved her, the desperation in her expression before she schooled her features into aloofness -- how Supergirl claimed it was "Kara Danvers believes in you."

No, it had been Kara that whole time. Trying to tell her and yet not tell her.

Here at the end of everything, she finally understood why her brother kept the truth from her. It was yet another chess move. He knew she'd react with anger and pain, where she'd burn her bridges. He wanted her isolated, and even in death, he'd taken from her. Taken the one good thing in her life.

She screamed and pounded her fist against the stairs. She was so close to the lab now.

But the pain wrapped around her chest. Her memories tumbled in her mind as if caught in a spinning vortex.

Over and over Kara's face appeared with increasingly urgency.

Even as she bled to death in a stairwell, her traitorous heart couldn't let Kara go.

With slippery fingers, Lena pried open the watch's face. She had no hope that Kara would come.

No, pressing the button won't bring her relief. She was giving Kara one last chance to say goodbye.

Blood smeared across the watch. On her second try, her fingers finally pressed the button.

She collapsed in exhaustion against the stairs, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the darkness.

/end of part 1

[theredcapeofk]

It's a Super life

Inspired by @fazedlight 's ficlet Do-Over

Mxy left. Kara looked around her apartment, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of her furniture. It was something she did frequently when she was anxious. Tonight was no different. She stood in her living room, tired after all the night's events, the weight of the world somehow heavier than it was a few hours before.

Kara sighed deeply. She felt so incredibly lonely. Not because Mxy left or because Alex wasn't with her in the apartment. No company could fill the void Lena's absence had created in her heart. As she was trying not to spiral back into the recent events with Lena, like she usually did when she wasn't actively focusing on anything else, something became very clear. She needed to see Lena, to tell her she still had hope for them.

She was about to fly off into the night when she thought it would be a good idea to write down what she wanted Lena to hear, just in case she couldn't tell her now. It was…she looked at her watch, ten o'clock. Not exactly late but not exactly early either. Better write it down so Lena could get the message.

She flew across town with a heavy heart. She approached Lena's penthouse carefully like she was afraid to startle Lena if she caught sight of her. Lena was there, pouring herself a cup of tea. She looked so calm and relaxed for once, Kara almost turned around to leave her in peace. She could make sure Lena would get the letter but not see her.

Kara was seriously considering this option when she realized Lena's balcony door was open. There could be a dozen reasons why this door was open, none of which had likely anything to do with Kara, but she couldn't help but feel invited to come forward somehow.

She landed softly, but hard enough for Lena to hear the sound of her boots. Lena looked up. Several emotions flashed across her eyes, and her hands shook lightly around her tea cup. She schooled her features, put the cup down, and walked towards her balcony door. Kara was standing on the threshold, not daring to go any further.

"Are you here to give me a speech about what I should or should not do?" Lena challenged.

"No Lena. What you do or do not do isn't my responsibility or mine to control. I know that now, and I'm sorry if I came out bossy or controlling the last time we saw each other. I was simply worried about you.

Tonight, I'm here to share an experience with you. Something happened to me tonight, something unexpected that opened my eyes to a lot of things. And…" she added hastily as Lena opened her mouth to cut her "While I'm sure you don't care about what happened to me tonight, I think you could be interested in the outcome. But I don't want to impose my presence on you, so I wrote you a letter so you can read it if you'd rather not hear it."

Lena took a minute to consider her options. Kara knew there was a risk Lena would choose neither and tell her to get lost. Lena gazed at the piece of paper in Kara's hand.

"Give me the letter." Lena chose.

Read it on Ao3

[maikhiwi00]

transformers + fave ships [x] [x]

[pinacoladamatata]

Target Solas may be saving my life actually

[fine-nephrit]

🥏 TXF Fic Rec #25: "Overnight Sensation" by Syntax6

Today’s fic is an “X Files meets police procedural” whodunit with some of the best Diana-induced angst ever written. Set after episodes 6x11-12, “Two Fathers/One Son,” Scully ditches Mulder to join the investigation of a high-profile serial killer case in Boston. Her partner and Diana Fowley soon follow suits, complicating things.

This is one of those holy grail fics that combine a top-notch casefile with great MSR, the type @syntax6 excels at. The fast-paced, action-packed casefile goes all out on elaborate plot puzzles and has a blockbuster scale to it. Syntax6 creates a cast of original characters for the local police force, and portrays Mulder as a brilliant, heroic, and ass-kicking investigator, bringing to life that “golden boy of VCU”, known mainly through hearsay not often seen in action. A must-read.

---

🥏 on author's site 🥏 audio version on @audiofanficpod read by @darkesttimelinestuff

length: novel, 88,000+ words season: season 6, 6x11 Two Fathers/One Son pairing(s): M/S UST o RST tags: Casefile, angst, jealousy, rift, holiday, pretend couple, good OCs, Diana Fowley rating: explicit/NC-17

[sleep-deprived-luka]

went through the sketchbooks of shame and found this doodle of wxs leaving Tsukasas room like it's a clowncar

[theminecraftbee]

It’s late. Scar is already asleep, and distantly, Jimmy imagines he can hear that cat Tango found for him meowing to him. Elsewhere, Fwhip is—doing nothing Jimmy cares about, thank you—and the sky is clear tonight, so he supposes Joel must be content. Grian had gone to make base with more of the strangers and strangely familiar, and Jimmy is here to hang up his hat and go to bed.

When he turns around, there’s a small yellow bird perched on his hatstand.

“Oh, you—go away,” Jimmy says, irritated.

The bird doesn’t speak, but Jimmy hears what it’s trying to say: if they’re here, that means it was real. If Jimmy knows them, and they know Jimmy, that means it was real. If it was real, that means everything else is too.

Jimmy crosses the room to stick his hat on his other pillow instead of the hatstand. With a surprisingly lovely song, the yellow bird flies off the hatstand and lands on the hat.

“Shoo,” Jimmy says. “Even if it were all real. Even if he’s here, and Tango’s as good as all those memories say, and—you don’t gotta stick around me, you know. Shoo. Besides, this all still has time to be a stupid dream.”

The bird sings sadly.

“Ugh,” Jimmy says, flopping in bed. “Even if it is all real, it’s not time yet anyway.”

The bird hops over to where Jimmy is flopped in bed and rests its head against Jimmy’s cheek. Outside, there’s a ranch he’s building for someone he met in a dream, and there are poppies in a vase downstairs, and Grian said that Jimmy couldn’t escape him, and Jimmy’s not sure that Grian knows what he meant when he said it.

The bird chirps sadly again.

“…it’s not your fault anyhow. I shouldn’t yell,” Jimmy says. “It’s hardly your fault everyone else—well.”

The bird chirps one last time before flying out the window. In Jimmy’s head, it’s gone to find Tango, or maybe Scott. Jimmy watches it.

“If I’m going to have to check the water tower for cod, I’m not taking it to Joel,” he says, as though there’s any logic to that whatsoever. “Do you know how much fun I’ll get made of for doing that? Nu-uh, no way.”

He blows out the candle. The room is dark. He goes to sleep, and he dreams of past lives. They aren’t so bad as all that, but he’d prefer they stay there, if it’s all the same anyway.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Time (D)rift 2

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, blood, violence, and possible other triggers. Warnings may not be explicit or exhaustive.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The end has come and gone as you keep waiting for your own. (Apocalypse AU)

Sister series to Edge of Time

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: I work until Thursday and have Friday off. i’m trying not to push myself and have nothing planned for the holiday. My family situation is kinda more obvious this time of year so I’m just tryna be chill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Winds whistle over the walls as you walk the perimeter. The guard keeps a few feet back, distracted as he shifts his gun and spits stale tobacco into the snow. You carry the metal clipboard and make notes, marking the diagram of the wall with any areas of concern. 

The task feels redundant as there's rarely more than the usual dimples in the brick or chipping of mortar. Besides, frost covers much of the wall and you're not permitted close enough to brush it away. You stop at the southeast corner and twist the pencil between your gloved fingers. The tree peeking over from the other side seems close…

You don't look long and slide the pencil under the metal clip. You turn back to the guard as he pulls at his thick vest. He chews loudly and horks again, right between your boots.

"Done?" His tongue makes a moist noise against his teeth. 

You nod.

"Mm," he takes the clipboard roughly and tilts his head back towards the cluster of buildings, "go'n."

You don't hesitate. Your boots crunch over the snow as more drifts onto the rolled edge of your hat. Your morning had been spent shoveling and you'd have more to do already. No shipments to keep you inside and warm.

Parker Row, the tall brick buildings with their ever pluming chimneys, loom against the grey sky. You pass and refuse to look over as two guards chatter and climb up the steps. There always seems to be someone coming or going.

At the Cannery, named for the line where you package the produce by hand, crimping cans with the clunky levers, the steady swing of shovels greets you as you climb the steps. A task awaits you inside as Al pushes crates along a long table; he sends Johann off with two meant for the castle as he sees you. He whistles and beckons you over.

"To the Row," he drags a crate over. You see a glimpse of the foil wrapped chocolate between the slats and can smell the rich coffee wafting from within.

You put your hands on the sides but don't lift it, "I can take one of the others–"

"Take it," he demands, "don't got time."

You sigh and lift the box. It's heavy as glass clunks. Wine, whiskey, maybe even some of the hoppy beer from the brewhouse. You retrace your steps and emerge back into the hollow swirl of the endless winter.

You pass between the shovelers. A shovel would be good, for more than just snow. You could hop a narrow river, more likely use it as a weapon. Not many of those to be had, but more than enough aimed in your direction. 

Another coat, extra socks, matches if they can be found, or a lighter… that's a hard get. No canned shit, too heavy, too noisy. Maybe rope? You can't carry much, not if you want to stay on your feet.

Shit, you went too far. You turn back towards Parker Row. You're getting ahead of yourself. Before you can even think of scaling the wall, you need an opportunity. Wait it out, you just hope you're not waiting too long.

You ascend the powdered steps and a guard gives a dull glance to you and your haul. He shifts over to pull up to cloth over the top of the box and shrugs you onward. You enter and look around the large entry way, the scent of burning incense mingling with that of the aged wooden banister. 

Where do you go?

The floorboards creak under your feet and you peer through the doorway to your left. You nearly gasp as a guard's bare ass peeks out above his slumped pants, the slapping of flesh interspersed with the trilled whines of the woman bent over the couch, only her legs visible to you. You quickly spin and march to the opposite door. A dining room with tables littered with unwashed glasses and empty bottles. 

You continue through to the next doorway and find the kitchen. It's abandoned too but you hear some fervour in the pantry, the door slightly ajar as giggle unfurl into moans. You put the crate on the worn wooden counter and back away.

As you face the door, a body appears in the frame, scarlet fabric fluttering around her as she calls back, "should be some wine, hon–"

Cordelia, Corey to you, swallows her words as she sees you, "oh, it's you."

You bounce on your heels, "delivery."

She looks beyond you and her groomed brows pop up, "wonderful," she swishes past you, her tits visible through the sheer robe, "you didn't get the perfume, did you?"

"I only brought what they gave me," you go to the door as she shuffles through the crate.

"You know, it's not so bad here," she says, "warm…"

"Glad to see you're doing well."

"You could clean up a bit and I'm sure–"

You ignore her and keep on, leaving her to her greedy search. A man sits shirtless at one of the tables waiting for her, scratch marks down his chest. You try not to look as he plays with his belt.

You quickly flit through the door and to the next, fleeing back into the grim hues. The guard doesn't acknowledge you as you tramp down the steps. Your heart races as your mind strays further.

Is that what it was like for her? Not Corey, she's just another one. Your sister. Is that how she spent her last year? Just so she could hand you off an extra scrap or two? She never said. You never asked. 

You quickly dislodge the thought. That was ages ago. She was just the last one you lost, the last one you would lose. She wasn't special, none of you are. 

It's like she was never even there, that she never truly lived. Like a figment of your mind that you could just forget. Just another sliver in your heart dulled by the greater struggle of your existence.��

You weren't going to end up there. After so long, you weren't going to give in just for some chocolate and a warm bed. Not for the cost of it.

There was little you had in this world, little more than yourself and you wouldn't give that away again. 

❄️

The bonfire lights up the west end of the settlement, the furor keeping most awake. You included.

You surrender to the restlessness and check the small pack crushed beneath your bunk. Not much but what you could get. Weeks of scrounging and searching and little to show for it. Would it be any better outside?

You peek into the hallway, bodies at the barred windows, watching the celebration from a distance. If that's what it is. You don't know the reason for the fiery affair.

You turn back to your room, this might be it. A distraction, even if dangerous. The grounds will be crawling with guards but with any luck they'll be drunk and dumb.

You pull on the extra sweater, patches sewn over the fraying holes and button up your coat over your scarf, wound high around your face. You put your hat on and every pair of mismatched socks you have, then your boots. You slip the pack over your shoulders, only one more piece needed.

Back in the hallway, the distant flicker glares in around the observers. You wait a moment before tiptoeing out, quickly swinging around the corner. Downstairs, all is quiet, no work is done this late. Or early. It's hard to tell the difference.

You ease down the stairs, leaning heavily on the wall as each step creaks and sends your heart lurching. You get to the bottom and gulp. This is it, this is the line. Once you cross it, there's no going back.

The storeroom is locked. The barrier nearly detering you entirely. You should have expected it. Are you really prepared for this?

You can make it without–

It's almost too good to be true. You stop short as you look to the front door. An errant shovel against the wall, forgotten. You cross the room cautiously and reach out disbelieving for the tool. Nothing happens. 

You take it and hold it steady as you peek through the bars along the window next to the door. There's the back door, where the waste stinks in piles until a crew loads it into trucks to be taken to some remote dumping ground. It'd the safest way out.

You curl around the staircase, the stench of the garbage drawing you on, assuring you of your path. You nearly retch as you get to the door and pause before twisting the handle. You could sigh as it opens easily but hold your breath against the reek.

You descend, leaving the door slightly ajar to keep from making noise. You almost clang the shovel head off the ground as you do and weave between the rotting bags and frozen cans.

The settlement is eerie as you head east away from the fire's orange haze. You keep to the shadow of the unlit buildings as you near the wall, the corner where the tree peeks over the top as if trying to see in. You take off your pack and your scarf, securing the shovel across your back before pulling the bag over it to keep it doubly snug.

Your first try has you mulching back into the snow. You stagger as you wonder at your own absurdity. Did you really think it would be easy? A second try isn't any more successful. You grow nervous from the noise of it. 

You take off your gloves and shove them into your pockets, the cold nipping at your exposed skin. You feel along the wall and find a divot in the mortar. You start again, progress eased as you can feel the wall and all its imperfections.

You pant out damp mist as you get higher, adrenaline thrumming, and your fingers ache as the temperature throbs in the joints. Your go higher and higher, dizzy from the cold and the height. Your foot slips and you sling your arm up, nearly falling before digging in your fingertips. 

You grunt and strain to haul up a single leg. You fight to drag your body onto the top of the wall and see the flames burning amid the groups of men as their raucous voices carry over the snow. You brace yourself, the moon casting a little too much light for comfort. 

You sit up and shakily set your feet  squatting low before launching yourself off the top and closing your eyes as you grasp at air. If you miss, the snow might dampen the fall, or make your demise a little slower.

You hit a branch and latch on, breathless as it dips beneath your weight. You whimper and hook your legs around the bark. You shimmy to the trunk, bumping your head as you remain blind to the world. Finally, you muster the courage to open your eyes.

You look up at the sky and listen. You can hardly hear anything within the walls from out their. Just the gales and gusts as mountains of snow blow between the barren trees and rundown buildings standing open-mouthed to the moonlight.

Your descent is perilous, frightful, and you fall the last few feet, snow dusting up and clumping along your hood and hat. You rise, the blankets past your knees, and start off. No direction, there's no where in particular to go. Only away, to your death or worse.

❄️

The night thins to a dull morning, the grim sky watches you pass between baren pines, twigs and sticks crunching under the snow. Your toes are numb, fingers too. Your nose is tender against the inside of your scarf as you carry the shovel in hand.

Second thoughts plague you but can't be followed. No going back. Your tracks are likely already guiding those who noticed your absence, if at all. The punishment for leaving is rarely a safe return.

You cross a river, half- frozen, and continue on to a snow buried house with only three walls. It's not obvious enough to be a first thought and you pray it snows before you can be trailed. You settle in a corner, shielded by a broken table as you curl up with your pack.

You wake up twice as cold, covered in snow and unable to stop shivering. You're stiff, barely able to sit up. You open the bag of crackers, stale and baked in the camp oven. You have a few and make yourself get up. It's almost night again.

You fall back down as a light flashes on the other side of the wall. You burrow into the snow as best you can and stay behind the table. Boots compress the layers of snow as they surveil the exterior.

"Saw tracks further back, don't think she came this way."

"If she's still around, picked the right time to make a break. Probably buried halfway down a hill," the other responds. You know his voice, Barton.

"You're the one wanted to chase her," another man.

"Shut the fuck up," Barton hisses, "do your fucking jobs."

Is it coincidence? Does he know it's you specifically? Would he even remember you?

You ball your fist and try to meter your breath. Time slows as you listen to the snap of sticks and the clatter of furniture.

"What does it matter if we only find a corpse? Huh? Shit, it's one girl–"

"It's about setting an example," Barton snarls, "come on then, show me where you think she went. How long you been tracking idiots? Not like it wasn't my fucking career before–"

"No one gives a shit about before," another man cuts in.

"What were you? A pencil pusher? Now you think you're tough cause the cards fell in your direction–" you hear splutter, a grunt, and the weight of a body in the snow, "nothing now."

A lull as treads sink into the snow, "we'll keep looking boss."

"Nah, she ain't that smart. She'll be running til nightfall."

You close your eyes and shudder. It takes some time for them to leave, the slamming of car doors and mutters signaling their departure. You wait until there's nothing but the wind and the dead man left in the heap.

It's almost night as you get away from the ravage of the torn down house. You head away from the tire tracks, hoping to hide behind some buildings or trees, anything to obscure you as the moon crests. You reach a valley, sliding down halfway clumsily, planting the shovel to keep from reaching the bottom.

You make slow progress, the shovel keeping you afoot as you fight through the thick snow. You're out of breath and weak but you can't stop. You won't, even if you freeze, even if you die. 

You don't want to be another body hastily disposed of. You'd rather rot into the earth. Rather die than live out the purgatory of a ruined world.

[natalievoncatte]

It wasn’t Kara that destroyed her.

In her secret heart, Lena craved that. She wanted Kara to give back everything Lena had thrown at her. Defeat her. Crush her. Cast her down and treat her like a villain. After all, why had Kara lied? Conspired? Tricked her and manipulated her? Why do all that if she wasn’t a villain?

In her quietest moments with Myriad in her hands or staring at the twisted visage of an alien murderer, a quiet voice from deep within her whispered the truth she could never let herself feel:

This is what you are. It’s in the blood.

If Kara would just treat her like a villain, it would all make sense. There would be no more nagging doubts, no more questions, no more hateful longing. Lena has done everything she could to carve it out of her chest, but it gave her no relief, only the raw throbbing pain of a ragged wound that wouldn’t close.

Then she had been at L-Corp when Jess ran into her office in a blind panic, shouting that she had to turn the television on now, that something terrible had happened.

Lena stared at her dumbly because she already knew. She could feel it somehow, a wash of graveyard chill that enveloped her from nowhere and froze the rotten lump where her heart had been. Her hand shook as she lifted the remote and turned on the screen.

The news chyron stuck her like a hammer blow to the chest and her pathetic excuse for a last meal -a cold half of a Big Belly burger she’d eaten the night before- leapt into her throat, trying to escape.

Supergirl Dead?

They hadn’t called her, and why would they? Why seek her help after all she’d done?

Lena pushed to her feet, almost tumbling to the floor in the process. The news was repeating a ten-second clip, showing a red-white beam slicing through the midday air, so bright that it distorted the image as it struck a tiny blue and red blur and knocked her out of the sky as if a giant hand had swatted her to the ground.

She was moving before she realized she’d taken a step.

“Cancel all my meetings,” Lena snapped.

“But the Japanese investors,” Jess said, lamely.

“Fuck the Japanese investors, cancel all my meetings!”

She pushed past Jess and stormed to her private elevator, twisting the key so hard it nearly snapped. She paced the full two minutes it took to to descend to the garage. There would be no summoning a driver. She ran barefoot across the parking garage floor to the Bugatti and threw herself inside.

When she arrived at the DEO, there was chaos. It took a moment before anyone noticed a barefoot, red-eyed Lena Luthor running into the lobby in a blind panic. When they did notice, she was immediately tackled by two of their goons and handcuffs slammed on her wrists.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “I’m here to help!”

“Shut up,” the agent growled.

They sent jolts of pain up her arms as they took her in. She thought they were going to take the handcuffs off, but instead they cuffed one hand to a chain locked to a ring in the middle of a concrete table in an interrogation room.

“What the hell?” Lena screamed. “I’m here to help her!”

The door slammed heavily shit and Lena raged, yanking at the handcuffs in a futile gesture that only left her wrist raw. She thought about trying to pick them, but at this rate they might shoot her if she looked to escape. Her stomach sank and she began to spiral.

She’s dead. She’s dead and they’re going to blame me.

Hot tears burned in her eyes and she willed them not to fall, holding them back with all her might, but it was inevitable.

Finally, after what felt like half a day, Alex walked in. Lena knew at once that something terrible had happened. Kara’s sister looked like hell, with dark circles under her eyes and a pained look. She regarded Lena as if she were some ugly thing that crawled out of a crack in the foundations.

“What are you doing here?” said Alex.

“I told your thugs, I’m here to help. You’re wasting time, I need to see her now.”

“Why,” Alex said, “why on God’s green earth would I let you anywhere near her?”

Lena blinked. “At least tell me what’s wrong. I might be able to…”

“You locked her in a kryptonite cage. You talked her into breaching her morals to carry out your sick schemes. You aimed a kryptonite cannon at her face.”

“I…”

“You what? You didn’t mean it?”

“Alex,” Lena began.

“Shut up. You had me fooled, Luthor. Kara always believed in you. I didn’t. I tried to convince her to be as afraid of her as I was. I just want to know, why now? She left you alone like you wanted. You’ve been quiet. Kara insisted we give you a chance and let you be, a choice I now deeply regret. So why now? What did she do to deserve this?”

The cold fury radiating from Alex choked Lena up for a moment. Her mouth worked silently.

“You think I did this?”

“Why not? You’ve hurt her twice already.”

“I didn’t. I would never. I didn’t want her to die. I just wanted to…”

“To what?”

Lena swallowed hard, speaking before thinking.

“I wanted her to feel what I was feeling.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed and her expression went dark and hard, something vicious twisting her lips. Her hand twitched towards the bulky alien gun on her hip.

With her other hand, she pulled out a phone and turned it to Lena.

Lena’s stomach flipped when she saw Lex’s grinning face.

“I hope you enjoy your new present,” he said into the camera. “A Kryptonite particle beam enhanced with a high-powered laser tuned to a wavelength that will instantly negate her powers.”

Lex’s grin widened.

“Lena sends her regards.”

Lena blinked a few times. She wanted to thrash, yank her chain, accuse, scream.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why, because you wouldn’t?”

“I killed him,” Lena breathed.

“What?”

“Lex. Lex is dead. I killed him. I killed him!” she was almost hysterical. “I put two shots in his chest and one in his head like he taught me himself. After he escaped last time I killed him.”

Alex’s expression faltered.

“You think I’ll believe that?” she said, but sounded unsure.

“When I was twelve and Lex was away at school, Lillian got drunk and threatened me. I was scared to death she meant it. Lex gave me our father’s gun and taught me to shoot.” A brief, weak smile cursed her lips. “I didn’t realize until a lot later how fucked up that is, but it’s one of my favorite memories of him.”

“You’re telling me you killed him,” said Alex. “After you went behind our backs and used the Hardin-El to heal his ‘cancer.’”

“He was my brother.”

“And you say you killed him.”

Lena looked down, away from her. Tears fell on the table with a soft patter and she choked back a hitching sob.

“She became his new fixation. He was never going to stop. I did what I had to do.”

Alex went silent. Her hand hung by her hip and part of Lena hoped she’d make it fast, the same part that flinched when Alex moved.

The key twisted in the lock and the cuffs ratcheted open. Alex gave her arm a sharp tug. “Get up.”

Lena wobbled to her feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up and walk.”

Alex led her to the elevator, and down a corridor. Kara’s frail form lay behind a layer of plastic curtains, bathed in brilliant light from sunlamps.

“If she comes around,” Alex said, her voice flat. “You can never tell her. She’ll blame herself.”

Alex parted the curtains and led Lena inside. Kara lay n a stretcher with a layer of bandages wound around her bare torso, looking pale and drawn. Her skin shone with a cold sweat and there were dark circles around her eyes. She lay in a nest of wires and was on oxygen.

“My God,” Lena whispered.

“It was like he said. Some kind of particle beam combined with the laser. It’s like she was impaled through the chest with superheated Kryptonite. If Jon hadn’t caught her, the impact would have been fatal.”

Alex rattled it all off with a cold, medical detachment, except for the tension creaking in around the edges of her voice and the way her shoulder hitched.

“You’ve hurt her so much,” Alex whispered. “I don’t think I’m ever going to fully trust you again. But for the love of God, if you can fix her then fix her.”

“I will,” Lena said, the CEO creeping back into her voice. “I’ll need materials from my lab. I’ll give a Brainy a list. I’m not leaving her.”

Lena did not sleep for another thirty-six hours. She worked tirelessly alongside Brainy, who regarded her curiously as she hunched over lab benches and uploaded instructions to nanites.

Finally she said, “what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He turned back to his own task without answering her.

An hour later, Alex stormed in.

“She’s getting worse. Whatever you’re doing, you have to hurry.”

Brainy turned from his lab bench and took Alex’s arm. He led her into the hall and they had a clipped, quiet conversation that Lena could not hear, except for Alex’s startled cry of “WHAT?”

It didn’t matter, she was finished. She took the devil in her hands and rushed through the door.

“Let’s go, we can’t waste anymore time.”

Alex openly gaped at her, then looked at Brainy. The expression of utter shock on her face arrested Lena in her tracks.

“What?”

“I,” Alex began, but Brainy grabbed her arm and squeezed hard.

“Let’s go,” said Alex.

Lena swept into the lab carrying the module in her hands as if it were made of precious gold.

“Turn off the sunlamps,” Lena ordered the technicians. “If the poisoning progresses, they’ll kill her faster than they heal her.”

Once they were off, Lena placed the device on Kara’s chest and stepped back.

Its sensors detected the Kryptonite and the system deployed. The pod unfolded like a delicate composite flower, and a wave of nanobots poured over Kara’s skin, instantly devouring and reprogramming the nanites in the wreckage of her suit while consuming the linens and bandages to grant the system more mass.

The entire process unfolded in seconds. It ensconced her in a protective layer and expanded, rapidly building an entire protective pod around her body. Dozens of tiny needles inserted dozens of cannulas into her arms and legs and began pumping her full of nanites, sending them storming through her bloodstream.

Lena bit her lip: there was nothing to do now except watch as the system’s AI administered rapid pulses of red and yellow light to balance the speed of her healing as the nanites in her bloodstream identified irradiated particles and consumed them, using them to make more of themselves.

She sat down. She knew this would take hours.

It ended up taking three days.

Lena slept in the side chair by the bed until someone brought her an uncomfortable recliner. Alex came in and out, as did Brainy and Nia, all of them looking at her oddly.

Finally the pod made a pleasant tone and unfolded. Kara lay on her side within, the nanites having formed a new suit top around her to preserve her modesty. She still wasn’t awake, but she was breathing normally and looked for all the world like her usual beautiful self. Lena was alone with her when it happened, and was glad of it. No one saw her brush the loose strands of gold from her face, and no one saw her rest her palm on Kara’s warm cheek.

They all piled on eventually.

Kara did not wake up.

“Why isn’t she coming around?” Alex demanded. “Why doesn’t she wake up?”

“She’s in a Kryptonian healing trance,” said Brainy. “It’s part of the healing process. She will wake when she is ready.”

“When the hell will that be?”

“We should give Lena the room.”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me,” Brainy said firmly.

Lean was as bewildered as Alex. What was she supposed to do?

When they were gone, she caught herself reflected in the monitors around the bed. She looked like shit, with barely one day’s sleep in four. As haggard as she looked, she didn’t care.

What the hell? It couldn’t hurt.

Lena bent over the bed, leaning on one hand, and took Kara’s in the other.

“I don’t know if you’re in there, but if you can hear me, it’s safe now. You can wake up. We’re all here for you. I’m here.”

It might have been the exhaustion, or the desperation, or the sorrow that filled her to bursting like a molten pain, but something happened and Lena let slip something that she’d held so tight she was sure her heart had long since crushed it.

“I love you, Kara. You don’t have to love me back. You don’t even have to like me. But I need you in the world. I need you. I need you, not Supergirl. I need Kara. I need my Kara. Please, if you’re in there at all,”

Kara’s eyes fluttered open. “Lena?”

“I’m here.”

Kara blinked a few times, and her hand closed gently around Lena’s.

“I had a bad dream,” she said. “It hurt so much, it felt like my heart was ripped out and I was in a dark place, and then I heard your voice leading me home.”

Lena grinned in spite of herself, tears stinging her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Kara. For everything.”

“Hush,” Kara whispered, her angelic voice full of quiet wisdom. “We can do that later. You’re tired. Lay down.”

Lena hesitated for a bare moment and then kicked off her shoes before climbing on next to her. Once she was lying down, sleep came crashing down on her like an avalanche as Kara threw an arm over her and tucked in close.

As she drifted off, Lena heard Alex, somewhere in the hall, snap, “Brainy, you knew this entire time?!”

[thatonebirdwrites]

Sneak peak on a Lena Luthor, Sam Arias, and Kara Danvers fic that has grabbed me by the throat and won't let go till I finish it

(Once I finish it, I'll throw it up on AO3.) Finished so will post weekly/bi-weekly until it's all up. Here's the link.

THE EVENT

Lena realizes something is very, very wrong when she feels the heft of a gun in her hand. The fog in her mind lifts slowly as she wrestles back her consciousness. She blinks and realizes she’s in a concrete room with a desk to one side.

But far more disturbing is her brother, Lex, who has pushed himself half-up with one arm, the other hugging his abdomen. The gun she holds points at him. Blood dribbles from his mouth. He laughs, and his words swim through the fog in her brain.

“It’s ironic, isn’t it? The very people you fight to protect. Do you know their truth?” He reaches up to grab a remote and turns on the televisions that make up a wall of the bunker.

Lena breathes in sharply. Bunker?

No, no, she can’t be alone with Lex. Bad things always happen.

Panic rises like bile in her throat. Her brother is speaking again, but his words can’t penetrate the growing haze in her head. She blinks at the televisions, but it blurs into a mosaic of color and faint soundscapes.

Her thoughts spark and sizzle like a broken circuit. She hyperventilates, lightheaded, as tears sting her eyes. The gun’s weight pulls her arms down. The fact her brother is bleeding out in front of her, while laughing, alarms her.

He believes this is checkmate. It’s not. Please, let me handle this.

The thought laces through her alarm and comforts her. The confidence in her other self dismantles her rising panic. Just like the last time in Kasnia during the self-destruct sequence. Time had warped for her, the fog saturated all awareness, until she woke in the cool air, the sky studded with stars. In her hands was an air duct grate, her clothes rumpled, one heel broken, and streaks of dirt on her legs and arms.

Oh.

Her other self must have fronted like in Kaznia. What is the last things she remembers? She briefly closes her eyes.

She had been escorted by armed guards to where her brother and Lillian waited in the Presidential room at the White House. Listened in horror at her brother’s rant of his victory over aliens. Saw evidence of Supergirl’s death. The terror that grabbed her by the throat had the fog boiling through her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she could not escape the Luthors.

Then nothing. Time evaporated until she wrestled her way out of the suffocating fog.

And here she wakes in a bunker, a gun in her hand, and her brother bleeding out in front of her.

“Do you see the lies they’ve woven? How they’ve abused your trusting nature? Your broken mind?” he continues with another irritating laugh.

He seeks to manipulate us again. Trust us. Lean into our anger.

Lena takes a steadying breath. That’s right. Her anger and horror at his brutal experiments and murder of aliens. The prison couldn’t hold him, cutting off his assets also failed — all facts she has factored into her calculations.

But this exact scenario is supposed to be the last resort. Her stomach curdles, bile on her tongue. Kieran, wait, what of the other plans?

We had to end the cycle, Lena. Otherwise, he’ll never stop coming.

Stop being cryptic. What the hell happened? She needs to reassess. There must be a better solution. She can still repair this somehow. Seek the Truth. Focus.

Fine. I confronted him and injected Harun-el as we agreed. He demanded we join his genocidal crusade. We are not his tool anymore. The solidity of the decision warms her from head to toe, even as her heart shatters at the sight in front of her.

Lena clears her throat and summons what strength she has left. “You’ve abused me, Lex. You have no ground to stand on.” She tries to avoid looking at the wall of televisions, for what is surely a cleverly crafted way to destroy her yet again. Like he always does. Her lip quivers, and she blinks back the urge to cry.

“Me? Your trusting brother?” Lex laughs then coughs blood into his hand. “I’ve given you the world, Ace. Only ever been truthful. Honed your skills. Do you still not see the truth? I’ve laid it out for you this time, you stubborn fool!”

Colors leech into grey in her periphery. Her limbs feel puppeted by her other self still. A rare moment of synergy but it leaves her nauseous and her head aching in a growing migraine.

“They’ve all been lying to you,” Lex continues as he laughs and spits up more blood. “Preying on your weaknesses.”

That’s you, Lena thinks. You’ve preyed on us.

But her curiosity overwhelms her, and she can’t ignore the televisions any longer. The scenes capture her gaze, and her ears roar with the orchestra Lex has woven into the security footage he’s stolen. Half the screens are footage from when Mercy attacked L-corp.

<<.....>>

Lena turns to Kara desperately. “No, Kara, you’re safer with me.” She can feel the grey fog pulling her toward the dark maw of her psyche. She reaches out to grasp Kara’s arm, the fabric of her cashmere sweater soft and comforting. As the emergency light goes off again, she slips deeper into her mind’s tumultuous seas.

Kieran rises forward, and her body transforms. Her shoulders straighten, her limbs more agile, her stance that of a fighter. Commands issue from her voice, but Lena can no longer discern meaning.

She wraps herself in the cold of shadows.

Time hiccups and coughs. Shots echo like thunder, safety doors drop like quakes, and the clatter of heels click against metal.

Is Kara okay? She needs to know. She swims through grey fog, until she pushes into consciousness again.

An uncomfortable weight hangs on her arm. Kara stands behind her, but Mercy holds the bigger gun of the Lexosuit. Fear curdles her stomach. Of course Mercy would hack through security to reach her experimental prototypes. Lena had built a lighter suit to be used for good. Not like this.

Lena, don’t. Let me handle this. Kieran’s smug confidence scratches into her thoughts.

Kara is still here!

Lena, we don’t have time to argue. Kieran surges to the front, and Lena watches as her body moves to block Mercy’s shot. “You did not see the upgrade. The arms hold more goods now.” A hint of excitement sweeps through her voice, the onset of a fight a thrill for Kieran, while Lena nears a panic.

Please, get Kara out of here. Lena struggles to keep them moving backward. Kara is behind her still, the door to the lab just a few feet away.

I said let me handle this. Anger filters through Kieran and burns against Lena’s presence.

Lena throws open the door. “Go, Kara.” Kara stumbles backward into the hallway, and she slams the door shut. The fog sears through her mind, Kieran’s anger pushing her back.

A blast tears through the air, but Kieran blocks the shot with their shield.

Except, Lena can’t let go fully. Kieran blocks and shoots, but Lena fumbles with the footwork. Kieran’s the fencer, not her. Mercy spars not only with the gloves but with caustic words. Kieran fights Lena for control, their dodging clumsy, their shots missing.

The fight warps and fizzles in her mind; the fog screeches through Lena’s consciousness.

She fumbles. Slams against metal.

“You aren’t deserving of the Luthor name,” Mercy says, her poison like barbs that sink into Lena’s insecurities.

Heat beams destroy the door, and Supergirl blasts into the room. Mercy is slammed against the wall, Supergirl’s arm against her throat. “No, you got that backwards,” Supergirl hisses, “the Luthor name isn’t deserving of Lena.”

Warmth floods through Lena at the strength and resolve in Supergirl’s words. A massive turnaround from the worldkiller crisis.

Stay focused. Don’t let your guard down until Mercy’s off the property. Kieran releases her hold, and Lena stumbles, back in full control. Already her mind shifts into overdrive to plan the exact route to verify the security of her building and her people.

<<....>>

This is a repeat of the Mercy incident. Where Lena couldn’t let go, and both of them co-fronted. It sparks a migraine, the grey in her periphery darkening, and her nausea worsening. She hates moments like this.

Let me handle this. We have him in a checkmate. The confidence in Kieran’s analysis softens the panic that has started to freeze her limbs. We know the Truth.

If there is one thing that unites Lena’s fractured psyche, it is an overwhelming need to protect those she loves. And her own brother has nearly killed her and her friends a dozen times over.

She’s exhausted, terrified, and wants this endless game of his to stop.

Lena raises her gun and shoots the televisions one at a time. The shards explode outward and rain down on her brother.

For once, Lex shuts the fuck up. His eyes widen.

The fog burns away the rest of her awareness.

She stumbles across wet grass, her clothes wet and clinging to her body, as the heavens pour down upon her. She’s outside the bunker in a stand of aspens. The sky sparks with lightning, the greyness suffocating.

You’re safe now. We all are. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.

Lena shouldn’t dig deeper. She knows it’s not healthy. Kieran has always protected her, held the worst of the horror. It’s how they’ve survived this far.

But this was her brother. And those screens showed Kara as not human. It makes no sense with what Kara claims. How does she reconcile it all?

Kieran, what did you do?!

What was necessary. Kieran’s confidence holds a trickle of grief and pain. We must seek help now, Lena. Focus.

She feels strange, unreal, like a pantomime of herself. The urge to lie in the mud, to let the rain wash her away, nearly overwhelms her. She pushes off a trunk and stumbles forward. Her hair falls in front of her eyes, sticking to her forehead and cheeks.

The images from the televisions ripple through her thoughts. Is that the Truth?

Yes. Now focus, Lena. We must call her.

Has Kara been deceiving her this whole time? She doesn’t want to believe it.

She’s given Kara her heart, far more than she ever meant to do, and yet, those videos sync with the disjointed mess of her memories. Bits and pieces that Kieran has held for her, scattered shards unlocked like the showers above.

Wait, did you know? Shock starts to shiver through her body.

That’s not important now. Call her.

Lena stumbles and falls. Her hands push into the mud and the world crackles with thunder. It’s too loud. Too bright.

It's all so wrong; she gags and spits out bile.

She wishes Kieran would take over again, to call for her, but her protective self has faded from awareness. Fatigue throttles all of her.

Her brother is likely dead in the bunker. By her own hand. Tears mix with the rain and her fingers dig into the mud. Her senses crackle with pain. She feels herself shrinking. The hairs on her arm raise, goosebumps from the cold, her body vibrating into oblivion.

She wants to go home.

Call her now. The thought is weaker, laced with grief.

“I know. I know,” Lena says it out loud to ground herself. To stop the shrinking, to avoid the inevitable pull of a switch. She shudders and leans against the trunk of a tree.

Focus on the goal. Break it into smaller steps.

She hugs her legs to her chest with one arm. Her other hand fumbles through pockets of her suit. Too many. Suit so wet. She feels slimy, gross, slipping toward the warmth of shadows.

Her fingers grasp he phone in her inner suit jacket. There’s two numbers on speed dial: Sam and Kara.

Her fingers hesitate over the two. She bites her lip, closes her eyes, and hits the button for Sam.

(To be continued on AO3, will edit in the link or drop in comments once up.) Note, this playlist was on repeat as I wrote this piece: Shattered Playlist

Edited.

[wolfie-bee]

the lies we tell

could have sworn I'd already posted this old twitter fic to ao3, turns out I did not so naturally I had to add more words and then post 😅

[theredcapeofk]

"Lena, what is it? Why can't we meet in person again?!"

"I'm…I'm not ready…"

"Why?"

"I don't know…"

Lena tears up. It's a blatant lie. The truth is that she's scared to her core. She's in love with Kara, and she knows Kara is in love with her. And when they meet again, it will turn their life upside down. In a good way for sure, but they're still recovering from the fight and Lena still feels raw. She's not sure she's ready to fall in Kara's arms…which will undoubtedly happen the moment she stares into her beautiful blue eyes.

"I think you're lying." Kara whispers. 

Lena glares at her through the screen. She hates the irony of being called a liar. But mostly, how can this woman read her without even seeing her?!

___

I finally updated my fic, The Five Senses of Affection from the @supergirlsummer event

Read chapter 5 (of 6) on Ao3

[fazedlight]

@thatonebirdwrites asking me about what WIP I'm working on right now and I'm like...

[naturepointstheway]

Was randomly thinking about how there are fics from back when yonder, where people did bodyswap fics of '98 Misto and 2019 Misto (or of multiple Mistos getting swapped around, with the aforementioned two the most common). Then I thought of Zurich Misto, who I've seen a few point out is the closest we get to 2019 Mistoffelees (but way more magically adept.) So who would have it worse/better if '19 Misto and Zurich Misto somehow swapped places (magic going awry with a loud ping, I imagine.) Bonus challenge points for Zurich Misto being entirely mute. (Also just for fun, going to think about Valentin's mute Misto from the original Vienna run too).

Zurich Misto in 2019's Cats:

RIP relationship with Rum Tum Tugger, and seeing that 2019!Tugger doesn't seem to care much for him would absolutely break his heart. Look, the Zurich production said Tuggoffelees rights and I'm here for it. So oof, ouch. Yeah this one would hurt. Ouch, ouch, oof ow that was a ventricle ouch there goes my other ventricle. Oof oh that's fine, the aorta isn't that important, anyway.

However, MUNKUSTRAP. Munkustrap would take him under his wing no questions asked. Zurich Misto is getting all the chin lifts from Munk. I feel like Robbie Fairchild's Munk would not care that he is mute at all, and would cherish him either way. He is not gonna want to go back.

2019 Misto in Zurich Cats (1992):

Oh no, I think this is gonna hurt even worse with Munkustrap, as this version of Munk isn't as sympathetic toward Misto (until the very end when he uses his magic to bring back Old Deut), but oh boy. This Munk would get even more annoyed with him when he can't even use his magic.

However, we do have a Tugger here who is absolutely besotted with him, and oh Lordy. He'd just die from all the love thrown at him by Tugger, especially when he DANCES WITH HIM ARM IN ARM during Growltiger, like, behold:

I promised the original Vienna run's Valentin's Misto next, so here goes:

Valentin's mute Misto in 2019:

Okay, Valentin's Misto is mute but he is confidence AF. His Misto would have a confidence/ego dance off with Jacob Brent's '98 Misto and I'd bring the popcorn along to see those two Mistos meet, perhaps in some rift in spacetime (hey, cryptid OBC Misto? Some help here?) He is nothing if not completely confident in his abilities and is NOT afraid to show it! Robbie's Munkustrap would have a legit boner the whole film, seeing Valentin's Misto showing off and just being all round glorious.

Tugger though - it'd be disappointing to see that he doesn't seem to give much of a care for Mistoffelees, but I feel he'd still be confident either way, especially as in his case, he has a Munkustrap who likes him back in his original version as well, so he would not likely be as hurt as Zurich Misto's would be about Tugger's attitude towards him.

That being said, Valentin's Mistoffelees doesn't strike me as needing a lot of encouragement/coaxing to really get him going. He's not afraid to piss off Munkustrap during Pekes and Pollicles either, and he'll be laughing about it the whole way.

[inkedroplets]

Wait what Lena/Peggy fic?!? I was scrolling and just had to stop and die a little at the possibility of this existing lol Lena Luthor and Peggy Carter? Two of my favorite characters ever? Together? Time travel? I don’t even care how, just want you to know I would read this ship soooo fast!

Not just time travel but Lena getting yeeted to another Earth.

I don't know where I would even begin to try and explain the plot spaghetti in my head. But essentially it would begin with Lena's portal watch malfunctioning and finding herself on a completely different Earth, scooped up by Coulson.

Much much later, (I cannot stress how much later) the time stone makes an appearance much later and Lena being Lena can't help but run a gamut of tests on it. Which sends her back in time where she happens to meet Peggy...

But here's a really brief snippet just for fun. It hasn't been edited at all and there's very little context but still:

“You wouldn’t happen to be an enhanced individual, would you, Miss Luthor?” Coulson asked

“I’m sorry?” Lena said, the first real hint of discernible irritation shining through her overly calm facade. “Where exactly are you looking, Agent Coulson?” She crossed her arms over her chest, the thin line that was her mouth somehow narrowing even further. There was a flicker of understanding and then horror that passed over Coulson’s face before his expression reverted back to that of a friendly but put-upon bureaucrat that would like nothing more than to punch out for the day. “At your file, Miss Luthor.” He held up a manila folder that he had obscured by his clipboard. “Or rather, what would be your file.” He tossed the empty folder down on the table. “The  problem is there’s nothing in it and not for lack of trying.”

“Does SHIELD not know how to use Google?” Lena glanced down at the empty folder wondering how anyone searching for the name ‘Luthor’  could come back with nothing to show for it. “Funnily enough we tried that too after we exhausted all other avenues. There is no record of, well, you, anywhere. Not a single hit on any of the databases my team scoured and before you try and impugn my team’s tech savviness again, our hacker was incredibly thorough. It's the first time I've seen her so perplexed,” he said. Instead of sounding annoyed or even angry he looked almost impressed. 

“So you think I'm lying,” Lena said, feeling that much was obvious. She was being interrogated, after all. Which was why it surprised her so much when Coulson shook his head. 

“No, Miss Luthor, on the contrary, I believe you are who you say you are. If you were going to try and obscure your identity with an alias, I assume you’d choose something less…” He looked down at his hands for a moment. 

“Less what?” 

“Less conspicuous. Lena. Luthor,” he said, enunciating each word clearly to hammer home the inherent strangeness in the symmetry of her name. 

“One of the many downsides of being a Luthor,” she said self-deprecatingly and gave a halfhearted shrug of apology. “Too many L’s.” 

Coulson who moments ago looked all too happy to let her ramble, perhaps hoping she might monologue her way into revealing something about herself held up a hand to stop her from continuing.

 “That's not the first time you've spoken as if that's supposed to mean something. Your last name,” he clarified. “Should it?” Of course it does, Lena thought bitterly.