I can’t even begin to describe the joy I felt when I was invited to do the final cover for the @supercorpzine ! What an honor! Thank you all for supporting such an amazing project! El mayarah!
Hey, i saw you tagged something with "#Kara has been okay with dying for a very long time#makes me wanna write about it" and I just thought I'd pop in to say that if you write about it I would love to read it :D
The Phantoms lie.
She knows this, she knows this. But the truth is, the Phantoms do more than just lie.
They twist memories, create waking nightmares, force you to relive the most painful things your own mind can conjure up.
(And Kara’s mind is a dark place.)
She can distinguish it at first, what’s real and what’s not real. There’s a lot giving away the fake memories, the implanted thoughts. Little details that give Kara enough distance from what she’s seeing to recognize it’s not real.
Things like cruel smirks on Alex’s lips that she never wore in reality.
Things like J’onn’s distrustful eyes following her, like Nia’s disgust when she appears, like Brainy’s disappointed shake of his head when she takes another step.
But then, she loses focus. She loses her grip on reality. Because she sees Lena’s tearstained face, hears her blaming Kara for lies and betrayal and loss and…it’s all true. It’s true, and she finds she can’t tell the difference between the Phantoms’ lies and her own bitter memories.
(She takes another step, needing to keep moving, needing to find a way out, needing to get home.
The lies, the memories, and the hurt all follow.)
It’s cold in the Phantom Zone. Cold, dark, and utterly silent. There’s nothing but the sound of her boots against gravelly soil, chattering teeth, and guilt and blame ringing in her ears, the voices of her friends and family shouting at her, not wanting her, hating her.
(The Phantoms lie. She knows this.
She has to know this.)
There are no signs of passing days. There’s no rising and setting sun, no waxing or waning moons, no indication that time passes at all. At first, she tries to count, to create her own sense of time, using the numbers to block out the voices and the visions, but she loses track, loses focus, watches everyone she loves die and wishes she died with them.
(The Phantoms lie.
She thinks she knows this.)
Kara takes another step. And another.
(It’s painfully cold. Her thoughts make her feel colder.)
A step. She has to keep moving, even if she’s unsure where she’s going. Why is she still going?
(The Phantoms lie.
But lies with a foundation of truth are always easier to believe.)
Kara stops, surrounded by images of all her dead loved ones, and she drops to her knees to join them.
///
When she wakes, she’s in a small cave-like structure, a glow emanating from a fire that gives off no heat.
And the man who has rescued her, the man in the robes and defeated eyes, is her father.
When he notices she’s awake, he’s careful to shift, appear as non-threatening as possible, smiling benignly at her. And Kara just lays there, staring, wondering if she’s dead or if this is just yet another ghost sent to haunt her.
“Kara,” he says finally, breaking the silence, his voice cracked from disuse, tongue clearly not practiced with the single word he utters.
“I’m dead,” Kara guesses, sitting up, watching the robed man who has taken the guise of her father carefully. “Right?”
“No, you are not dead.”
“But you’re not him,” she says, not really accusatory, just stating a fact. He looks at her sadly, like she’s hurting him.
“I am Zor El,” he says, almost like he believes it. “I am husband to Alura. Brother to Jor El. And most importantly, father to Kara Zor El.”
Kara gets to her feet shakily, stepping as far back from him as she can, back pressed against the cave walls. “No, stop. Zor El is dead. He died. He put me in a pod, alone, and sent me off, and he stayed to die with Krypton.”
Like I should have, she doesn’t say. I should have died too.
“You’re not real,” she tells him, meeting his gaze defiantly. The robed man, the man who calls himself Zor El, the stranger, lets out a sigh and hangs his head.
“The Phantoms lie, Kara,” he tells her quietly. “You know this.”
///
They begin their journey. Her hallucination tells her there’s some sort of outpost. A place she can perhaps send out a message, they merely need to get to it. He tells her he will go with her.
He tells her to be strong.
(And she wonders if this ghost knows what she’s thinking, if he can look into her mind and read those dark thoughts she can’t seem to shake.
Because even as she takes step after arduous step, she is focused on a singular notion: perhaps the universe would be better off with her dead. Perhaps fighting had no use at all.
Perhaps, in those endless days, dark and cold and alone in her pod, aimlessly floating through the vast expanse of space, she should have given up. Perhaps it would have been better.)
Ghost-Zor El doesn’t touch her, but she feels his heavy gaze on her, and she turns to him.
“The Phantoms lie, Kara,” he reminds her, giving her a smile that brings back memories of her father, of sitting in his lab and learning more about his work, of listening to his stories, of watching him when he wasn’t paying attention. “You should know this.”
///
Stay warm, he tells her. Find shelter, he reminds her. Conserve your energy, he advises her.
Rest, he says, rest and keep fighting to get home—back to those you love.
She doesn’t ask him how he knows she has loved ones, people she desperately wants to get back to. She merely listens without complaint, obeying thoughtlessly to his suggestions, and lets her mind go blank.
“Are you real?” she asks him after what feels like several days, but could have been weeks or months or years.
Her hallucination never comes too close to her, but he smiles her father’s smiles and that’s enough for her. “The Phantoms lie, Kara,” he says softly, his voice lulling her to sleep. “Don’t forget this.”
///
Everything aches. Each step takes energy she just doesn’t have. It’s as though all the weight she’s always carried, all the grief and pain and regret, has finally become too much, sapping her of everything she has left.
She buckles under the burden, but before she can fall, she feels a strong grip around her arm, dragging her up back to her feet.
“You must keep going,” her father’s ghost tells her, his eyes sad, no warmth from where his fingers are closed around her arm. “This is not where you fall.”
“But it can be,” Kara murmurs hopelessly. And it occurs to her, she’s not quite sure what she’s still fighting for.
A sister who she overshadowed and whose family she ripped apart? Friends who were terrified of her and what was capable of? And Lena—Lena, who Kara has loved from the day they met, but who she has hurt so completely that the CEO will never be the same?
(Kara has been okay with dying for a long time. Okay with dying in her pod. Okay with dying to save Earth. Okay with dying to protect those she loves.
And here now, she’s okay with dying with her father’s ghost—finally, finally joining him.)
“The Phantoms lie, Kara,” the fake Zor El says firmly, forcing her to take another step. “You must remember this. The Phantoms lie, and you must live.”
She stares up at him blankly, and obeys. She takes one step. Then another.
Another.
Another.
And on and on.
She keeps going.
///
Time passes. She’s not sure how much. But her apparition father no longer walks a distance away from her. Instead, he practically holds her up as they keep going, his repeated promises than she can do this all she can really hear.
“I wish…” Kara manages weakly. “I wish you were real.”
Her ghost father chuckles, clearly hearing what she can’t say. (I wish I were with you. I wish I wasn’t alone. I wish, I wish.) “Ah, but I am real. I’m the best parts of you, daughter,” he says. “Resilience, strength, commitment…hope.” He says the last word with some force, as if needing her to understand. “You are good. You are kind. And you try, more than anything you try.”
“The Phantoms lie,” she reminds him quietly. He laughs again.
“Yes, but I am no Phantom.”
And they keep walking.
///
“I have hurt so many,” she says, half carried by the fake Zor El. “I cause nothing but damage and pain. Why would they even want me back? Lena especially?”
“I don’t believe love is as simple as you make it seem, Kara,” the fake Zor El says. Another step. And another. And on and on.
“Love? She hates me. I ruined her life. I lied. I betrayed her.”
“Sometimes we stumble,” the fake Zor El said gently. “Sometimes we fail. But as long as we learn, as long as we get up and try to do better, there is always hope.”
A step. And another. And on and on.
“I do, you know. Love her,” she adds when her fake father seems confused.
He smiles brightly at her, and it’s nice. Even though he’s not real. Even though she’s only partially sure she’s not dead and this isn’t all in her head, even though he’s at best a hallucination and at worst a trick of the Phantoms, it’s nice. Because she’d never thought she’d have the opportunity to tell her father about the woman she has fallen for—the scientist like him, the innovator like him. The woman who made her feel more at home, more like herself, than anyone else.
“Hold onto that love, Kara,” he says, helping her take another step. “If there’s one thing the Phantoms cannot destroy, it is your love.”
She nods, though she doesn’t quite understand. And they keep going.
///
She knows she’s reaching her limit physically. There’s only so much even she can endure. Between the cold, the bone deep weariness, the ache settling in her chest, and the energy sapped from her very being, she’s running on no more than fumes.
She tells herself it’s just one more step. Just one more.
Just.
One.
…more.
“Father, are you—” She stops.
She’s completely alone. The ghost is gone.
Kara trembles, choking not only on the dusty, frozen air, but on her despair. All she wants, all she wants is to stop.
To fall to the gravelly dirt.
To curl up.
To give up…
“Kara!”
(She falls to her knees. The Phantoms lie, she thinks. But what a mercy, what a kindness, she’s going to die with her name on Lena’s lips.)
“Kara! Brainy, we found her. Alex, you’d best come quick.”
(The words make no sense. The Phantoms lie. They lie. They lie, lie, lie.
She looks up, and an angel stands before her. Lena, with wide, desperate eyes. Lena, with hair in a messy ponytail. Lena, in dusty, dirty clothes.
Oh, she’s a sight. She’s an angel. She’s everything.)
“Kara? Kara, we’re here. We’re going to take you home.”
(The Phantoms…have never lied like this.)
“Lena?” Kara manages shakily, unsure if she’s dreaming, hallucinating, dead even. “Are you real?”
Lena doesn’t answer, instead she rushes forward, falls to her knees too, and pulls Kara into a hug. She envelopes Kara in her scent—sweet and flowery—envelopes Kara in her warmth. Her heartbeat is strong against Kara’s chest.
She’s so alive. So present. So very real.
“Lena, my father, he…” But she doesn’t finish what she wants to say. After days, months, weeks, years (she doesn’t know, she can’t tell) of being lost in the Phantom Zone, her body finally caves under the weight of everything she’s gone through.
And she lets go. Falls into Lena. Lets herself be supported. Her eyes close, she breathes in Lena’s scent, and she thinks, even if this is just a lie, just a dream, it’s a good one.
And she knows no more.
///
When she wakes, her first thought is that she’s still dreaming. That the Phantoms lie, and that their lies are growing more and more impressive.
She’s laying underneath a sun lamp, nestled comfortably in her own bedroom, wearing soft pajamas and enveloped in her favorite blankets. There’s gentle music playing from somewhere in the living room, but otherwise that’s all she hears.
(The silence is eerie, disconcerting. She’s unused to such quiet, always assaulted by thousands upon thousands of sounds each and every moment. What a blessing, she thinks wryly, that the Phantoms would lie to her this way—would give her this much peace after so much pain.
And she wonders if this is what dying feels like.)
“Kara,” says her angel suddenly, and Kara turns her head, noticing for the first time that there’s a chair set up next to her bed, that Lena is there, watching her. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
“Am I dead?” Kara asks. Lena’s eyes widen but she shakes her head. “Are you…are you real? Is any of this real?”
Lena slowly reaches out, giving Kara every chance to say no, to pull away, and she takes Kara’s hand into her own, threading their fingers together.
(She’s warm. Soft. And her touch stirs something inside Kara.
It’s familiar. Hers. Something lost in the Phantom Zone.
Or at least, something she thought she had lost.)
“I’m real, Kara,” Lena says. “We all are. And we’re here for you okay?”
“You found me?” Kara asks, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “You came for me?”
“Always,” Lena swears.
(The Phantoms lied.
But love, love she thinks always tells the truth.)
Breakaway
“Lena, this could really be good for the company. Think of the good publicity for L-Corp, sponsoring the biggest women’s cycling race in the world.”
“Sam,” Lena huffs and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose, “L-Corp isn’t in the business of sponsoring sports events.”
“Yet.”
“We’ve never done anything even remotely similar. Don’t you think it would look a little…desperate? Not to mention suspicious given the timing?”
Sam shifts a little in her seat. “Lena, —”
“Lex’s trial concluded less than six months ago. Any effort to get good press at this point is going to be suspicious. Especially something as blatantly outside of the scope of L-Corp’s usual activities as showing up at some bicycle event. This could actually do more harm than good.”
“You said yourself that you’re trying to move the company in a different direction. You could easily position this as giving back to the community, supporting causes that are, by design, the opposite of what LuthorCorp stood for.”
And Lena can’t really argue with that. She does want to do things differently, from re-naming the company to ending contracts with military suppliers to focussing primarily on research and development projects that would benefit previously underserved communities. But this is a step, or ten, outside of her comfort zone. She doesn’t want to be in the public eye more than she has to be, and she most definitely doesn’t want to be seen as taking advantage of a women’s sports event to bolster her company’s reputation.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to decide right now. Just, think about it. You’re sponsoring girls in STEM events all the time, and this could be along the same lines of supporting women in areas that are traditionally dominated by men.”
Lena sighs. As always, Sam makes a good point, and as always, she is exceptionally pushy about it.
“Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Later that evening, after Lena has sent off the last few emails dealing with a contract issue with a new subsidiary company in Japan, she clicks out of her email application and pulls up her search engine. If she is supposed to think about sponsoring a cycling event, she wants to know exactly what she would be getting herself into.
Three scotches and a considerable amount of time later, Lena has learned that women’s cycling is woefully underfunded, under promoted and clearly suffers from blatant misogyny of those in charge. She listens to multiple interviews of riders complaining that their races are intentionally shorter than the men’s races because the sport’s regulating body apparently thinks women can’t handle the extra distance. Other than that, the sport seems entertaining enough, and from what Lena can tell, most races are currently dominated by select riders from two or three teams, a fact that speaks to uneven support for equipment and development of new talent across the sport.
While an interview with a sweaty and strikingly good looking blonde cyclist is playing in the background, Lena rubs her eyes and fires off a quick text to Sam.
LL: I’ve thought about it. Go ahead and set up the sponsorship for that race.
—
On race day, Lena regrets every decision she has ever made that has led her to this point. She gets up extra early that day to deal with a number of important issues at L-Corp, but the morning quickly gets away from her. At noon, she is already so behind schedule that she is tempted to text Sam to cancel her appearance at the race. It’s only the knowledge that her friend would never let her hear the end of it that keeps Lena from hiding in her office for the rest of the day. She leaves L-Corp with barely a minute to spare, knowing full well that she is going to have to work late that evening to make up for the time she is going to spend showing her face at the race.
By the time Lena gets there, the medal presentation is just about to start. A race volunteer quickly leads her to the side of the stage, just out of view of the crowds, where Lena spots Sam.
“There you are,” Sam says, handing her a bottle of water to combat the truly ludicrous heat that has built up under the temporary structure surrounding the stage and podium. “I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t show.”
“I told you I’d be here for this.”
“Yes, but you missed out on seeing the race action.”
“I'm a busy CEO of a multi-billion dollar international company. I don't have time to watch women in lycra pedal around the city for hours."
“Oh, but you did notice the lycra?”
“Sam,” Lena hisses as her attention drifts toward the woman stepping on the podium to accept the congratulations for the win. She grimaces when she sees Maxwell Lord and Morgan Edge hover near the cyclist, Edge shuffling closer and closer to the woman, sporting his usual sleazy smirk. He must say something offensive—not a big surprise, Lena thinks—because the woman accepting her medal suddenly stiffens and grimaces, clearly trying to remain polite and smile for the cameras while her body language conveys that she’d rather be anywhere else but here.
Lena takes a few swift steps toward them.
“Edge. I see you’ve learned nothing from your recent sexual harassment lawsuit. Do you want me to call your probation officer now or later?”
“Lena,” Edge sneers but he steps away from the woman nonetheless. “What a surprise. I didn’t think this event would want to associate themselves with family members of domestic terrorists. Then again, cycling doesn’t exactly have the best reputation for being a clean sport, so I suppose it fits.”
Lena crosses her arms across her chest and raises a challenging eyebrow. “You realize there are mics everywhere, yes? And that you just insulted the sport you’re supposedly here to champion, and everyone could hear it?”
She watches as a couple of official looking men in suits approach and whisper something into Morgan Edge’s ear. With a huff, he turns and retreats behind the stage to the soundtrack of shocked murmurs from the audience gathered in front of the podium.
Lena almost forgets why she is here when she hears an amused voice next to her ear.
“Thanks for that. Not entirely necessary, but I appreciate it.”
Lena’s head snaps toward the voice and all of a sudden she is looking into the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. The woman, Kara Danvers according to the information the race officials had handed her when she arrived for the medal presentation, looks flushed and a little disheveled, but is smiling brightly at Lena.
“Not necessary? He was practically grabbing your butt.”
Kara shrugs. “Not the first time that’s happened during a podium presentation, and won’t be the last. It’s part of the job, unfortunately.”
“It’s part of your job to be groped by men like Edge?”
Another shrug. “At least I usually also get kisses from the podium girls, so it evens out?”
Lena frowns. “What?”
But before she can get more information, one of the race officials hands her a bouquet of flowers and motions for her to hand it to today’s race winner, congratulate her and move on. Lena obliges. She steps in front of the podium, shakes Kara’s hand and ignores the way her stomach swoops when Kara thanks her and winks, fucking winks. Who does that?
Lena briskly walks off the stage on the other side, where Sam is already waiting for her.
“You can never do things at a normal level of intensity, can you?”
“I told you I’ve never done anything like this before, so maybe don’t blame me for not knowing the proper etiquette here,” Lena snaps. “You could have warned me that Edge and his greasy buddy Lord would be here.”
“Relax,” Sam chuckles. “You did great. I thought we’d maybe get some decent headlines about L-Corp sponsoring the race, but now the media is going to have a field day with you taking on Morgan Edge in public and defending the reputation of women’s cycling.”
“I did no such thing. He spewed his vile nonsense all by himself.”
“He did, and you took him down a notch in front of one the sport’s biggest names. Who seemed pretty taken with you, by the way.”
“Right,” Lena scoffs. The heat behind the stage is unbearable and she can feel sweat trickling down her lower back, her shirt sticking to her skin uncomfortably under her suit jacket. “Are we done here? I need to get back to work.”
Sam looks like she’s about to say something, maybe to try and convince Lena to stay, but Lena is already five steps ahead of her, finding the most direct path to where her driver is waiting for her with her car. And maybe she’s walking faster than strictly necessary, desperate to get away from the cacophony of noises, people and media equipment surrounding the area, and maybe she should have paid closer attention to her surroundings because when she’s not even halfway to her car, she suddenly collides with a solid body. The force of it bumps her sideways and Lena half expects to fall, but then two warm hands hold her upright.
“Golly, I’m so sorry,” Lena hears and when she looks up, it’s the woman from the podium again.
Kara Danvers.
She’s still holding Lena up, and they’re standing close, so close that Lena can see faint salt lines on her skin from where her sweat had dried off after the efforts of the race.
Lena blinks, too stunned to say anything for a moment.
“Are you okay? I totally didn’t see you and I barrelled right into you. I’m really sorry.”
Lena clears her throat. “It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You definitely looked like you’re in a hurry to get away,” Kara says, her voice teasing and light.
“I mean, I do have to get back to the office.”
“Of course. Time is money, and all that. Well, thank you for taking time out of your busy day for this, Ms Luthor.”
Lena is used to people commenting on her wealth and her business, and not always in friendly terms. She wears her professional demeanor and her last name like a shield; one that attracts a lot of unwanted attention, but a shield nonetheless. She doesn’t quite know why, but something about the woman in front of her makes her want things to be different.
“Please, just call me Lena.”
Lena can see the flash of surprise on the other woman’s face, but it is quickly replaced by another easy smile.
“Okay, Lena. I’m Kara.”
Lena nods. “Well, Kara, I should get going. Congratulations again on your win. Maybe I’ll see you around at some other races.”
“If you’re going to do the podium honors again, that’ll be more motivation for me to ride extra fast.”
Kara says this last bit with a laugh in her voice that makes Lena blush a little.
“Alright. You do that, but I really have to get back to work now. Bye, Kara.”
—
When Sam enters Lena’s office for a budget meeting a few days later, she finds Lena focused intensely on something on her laptop.
“Did you know that these so-called podium girls are almost all university graduates?”
Sam chuckles. “Are you looking for a side-gig?”
“What? No! I just mean, look at this woman, for example.” Lena turns her laptop toward Sam, the screen highlighting one of the blonde women usually tasked with handing over some stuffed animal to the race winner and giving them a kiss on the cheek. “This is Eve Tessmacher. She has two advanced degrees in biomedical science. She could easily work at L-Corp. Hell, she could probably even lead an entire department here, given her qualifications.”
“And?”
“And?! She spends her time following around the race circuit, smiling for the cameras in a dress that’s entirely too short to comfortably walk up the rickety stairs of those podium stages.”
Sam sits down opposite Lena at her desk and sighs.
“I see you put on your judgy pants this morning. What if they made a conscious decision to work at a women’s sports event? What if representing the race organization is important to them? And who knows, maybe traveling around the country and being a part of this is fun?”
“Fun?” Lena pulls up a few videos and turns the laptop back to Sam. “Does this look like fun to you?”
Together they watch a compilation of footage from various podium presentations. The common theme is the presence of handsy middle-aged men who seem to have made it their mission to make any woman involved with the race event uncomfortable, and the “podium girls” seem to be taking the brunt of it.
Sam winces as she watches one of the women trying to maneuver her body out of the grasp of a particularly persistent man.
“Okay, fine. That looks…unpleasant. But I assume their presence is part of tradition.”
“Mmh. Maybe it’s time to end this particular tradition.”
That gets Sam’s attention.
“And how exactly do you plan to do that? I thought you wanted nothing to do with sports?”
“You did tell me to sponsor this race. And right now, L-Corp is only one of many corporate partners, but we could easily become the headline sponsor for this race series, and then we could encourage some changes. Not to the racing itself, of course. But those ceremonial parts could do with less of the misogynistic bullshit.”
“Does this sudden interest in who gets to kiss the race winner have anything to do with a certain blonde cyclist?”
“What? No. You…why would you even say that?”
“Because I have eyes and I saw how she looked at you when you played the hero and saved her from Morgan Edge.”
“You’re delusional. I don’t, it’s not about that. It’s about making sure these women get highlighted for their actual talents, not just to be eye candy for men with a bottomless Viagra prescription.”
Sam rolls her eyes. “I see what you’re doing. But if you want to explore what it would take for L-Corp to become the main sponsor, leave it with me.”
It takes a few weeks of meetings and contract negotiations, but in the end, Lena gets exactly what she wants. The L-Corp logo is prominently displayed on banners, posters and race leader jerseys. The media has run a few mostly positive stories about Lena’s newfound interest in women’s cycling, complete with a few soundbites from prominent cyclists who seem pleased with seeing some extra funding and attention for their sport.
During a break in the race calendar, Lena asks her assistant to set up a few meetings with the women working for the race organization. With Sam’s words about being too judgy still echoing in her mind, she wants to get a feel for how much of their job is simply about carrying over traditions from the men’s races and how much wiggle room there is for making changes.
In the first three meetings, the women Lena speaks with are polite and careful. Lena doesn’t get much of an answer to her questions, but she does get the distinct impression that the women would welcome a different approach to some of their duties but are too afraid to rock the boat. It’s only when she meets with Eve Tessmacher that she gets a pretty blunt assessment of the current state of affairs.
“So, Miss Tessmacher, what would you say you enjoy most about your role?”
“Oh, you know, we do get to travel around a lot and it’s nice to see different parts of the country. The quirky small towns are the best, usually, even if the accommodations can be challenging there.”
Lena nods. “And if you could change anything about your tasks with the race, what would that be?”
Eve cocks her head to the side a little and hesitates. Lena can sense that all she needs is one more firm nudge.
“I want you to be honest with me, Miss Tessmacher. If there is anything I can do to change your work environment for the better, I will do that. This is important to me. And I promise I won’t tell anyone what you share here.”
Eve blinks a few times but then nods.
“Truthfully, we would all like to see more respect. I mean, you saw what happened when Morgan Edge was at the medal presentation last month. That’s a constant occurrence. I understand that we need to invite local dignitaries when we pretty much hijack their town for a few days. It’s photo op stuff for them, we all get that. But that could be done in a much more respectful way.”
Lena nods and motions for Eve to continue.
“The outfits are a little much. I always feel like a flight attendant from the 1960s. It would be nice to have some leeway there.”
Lena nods again and jots down a few thoughts on a notepad.
“What’s your long-term goal?” she asks. “Career-wise, where do you want to be in five years?”
At that, Eve lets out a small giggle.
“Is this a job interview?”
Lena looks up from her notepad and raises an eyebrow. “Well, I do know that you have the education to work in R&D here at L-Corp, so if you want this to be an interview, I can make that happen.”
There’s a shocked expression on Eve’s face that is enough to make Lena backtrack slightly.
“Or we can set up an interview for you another time. To give you more time to prepare.”
“Really?” Eve asks, her voice pitched higher than before.
“Absolutely. When you leave here, talk to my assistant, Jess, to set something up.”
“Thank you so much, Miss Luthor. I have to admit, this is not what I was expecting when you called me in for a meeting today.”
“I’m trying to change things for the better, Miss Tessmacher. Both here at L-Corp and at the races, though my influence is a bit more limited there. But I do see that the women representing the race organization are generally overqualified for the task and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a move to other opportunities for those who want that.”
Eve nods but lets Lena continue: “I also want to change things for those who want to stay with the race. Make it more comfortable. No more handsy old men. Better pay. A safer work environment. I really appreciate your candor. You’ve given me exactly what I need to get started.”
From there, Lena gets to work. Her legal department helps draft language that makes it clear to anyone who is part of the podium celebrations that any inappropriate behaviour will result in immediate legal action. She re-assigns two of the podium girls to observe and enforce the new rules if necessary. Several others, including Eve Tessmacher, line up interviews for part-time positions at L-Corp that still allow them to participate in race events if they so choose, and she removes most of the existing stipulations around work attire. Finally, Lena highlights that in order to set clear boundaries, no one should be touching or kissing the winning racers beyond a congratulatory handshake.
It takes a few weeks for all the changes to be implemented, but the impact is immediate. The race series makes waves not just in the sports media, but bigger outlets start featuring the changes and run headlines like “L-Corp race series moves away from outdated traditions” and “Is women’s cycling finally stepping out of the shadows of men’s racing?”
Lena thinks the coverage is a little overblown but it’s still nice to see articles about L-Corp that don’t even reference her brother at all.
Over dinner one evening with Sam, she takes a sip of her wine and sighs.
“You know I don’t admit this very often, but you were right.”
“About?” Sam probes with a smirk on her face.
“You know what I’m talking about. The race sponsorship. The media coverage for L-Corp has been great, stocks are up, the board is pleased with it all. Thank you for pushing me to do it.”
“You’re welcome. But also, I really only said you should do a small sponsorship. You turned that into practically taking over the race series in order to impress Kara Danvers.”
“I did no such thing,” Lena huffs.
Sam simply smiles and clinks her glass against Lena’s. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night. But you really should ask her out at some point.”
Thankfully, their waiter interrupts the conversation then, and Sam sticks to talking about Ruby and their weekend plans for the rest of their dinner.
—-
It’s a few weeks later when Lena finds herself back on stage next to Kara Danvers, handing her another bouquet of flowers and a medal for sprinting to an impressive win at a race around National City’s harbourfront. It’s a bit of deja vu, but Lena is happy to see that the overall atmosphere on stage is that of respect and professionalism for all involved.
When she hovers near the edge of the stage after the ceremony is over, Kara walks over to her with determined steps.
“I hear that it’s you we have to thank for the much more relaxed vibes at the medal presentations now?”
“All I did was establish compliance with current labour laws. I don’t want L-Corp to get pulled into a lawsuit over one of these groping incidents.”
Kara nods. “Ah. Well, even if you only did it to protect your company, I appreciate it. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“I do miss getting a kiss on the cheek for winning, though.”
And maybe it’s the glass of champagne Lena had while she was waiting for the medal presentation to start, or maybe it’s the heat or a combination of both, but suddenly she has no control over the words that tumble out of her mouth.
“I can provide the kiss if you’re amenable to that.”
The laugh that bubbles out of Kara’s chest is loud and bright when she says: "You know, if you wanted to be the one to kiss me exclusively, you could have just asked me out on a date. No need to go to all that extra trouble of making changes to the races."
Lena blushes. “Okay. This is me asking.”
There’s a moment where Kara only blinks, and it’s obvious to Lena that for all her teasing and bravado, she clearly didn’t expect Lena to play along. She’s about to backpedal when Kara stands up a little taller, smiles and holds out her hand.
“Then let’s go. Let me show you how many carbs I need to eat to fuel top performances. And if you’re into it, I might even show you my tan lines later.” And then she winks. Again.
All Lena can do is laugh and loop her arm through Kara’s. “Alright. Show me.”
Anonymous asked
lol i'm not crediting you sorry i already cropped your name out
Okay. Have a wonderful life! :)
Anonymous asked
Do you allow the use of your art in fanfics?
I don’t mind as long as the author gives me the rightful credit for the art, preferably with a link to my page. I also appreciate when the artwork gets minimum editing. I’m okay with a title and the author’s name, but more than that, would be quite disrespectful.
Thanks for asking!
self discipline tips
here are tips I discovered very recently:
- something is better than nothing. 5 minutes of work are better than zero. Just because you missed something on your schedule doesn’t mean you can’t still work on it, even for 5 minutes. Grow and build on this.
- second drafts / reviews can be done after.
- Don’t think you are going to do your very best work on the first try. Take the weight of perfectionism off your shoulders.
- don’t think about doing it. just do it as fast as you can.
- build on your productivity, not your failures.
- If you come from a past of procrastinating and now feel motivated to change and discipline yourself, do NOT try to do everything at once.
- if you have a set of different goals to accomplish, begin with the most important one. Wait until the rotine of working for that one settles in (you feel productive and comfortable-ish), and then begin with the next. Repeat.
- this way you’ll be building your way up and not juggling everything at the same time, hoping everything works out.
- be patient with yourself, you’ll get there!
- set smaller deadlines for your goals
- have monthly and weekly-ish deadlines
- e.g. if you are doing a project, due 22nd Feb, set personal deadlines, like have Introduction written by 2nd Feb, have Methods written by 10th Feb, have project complete by 18th Feb.
- take them as seriously as you possibly can, don’t miss out on yourself.
- write realistic daily tasks and don’t stop until you finish them. after them you can do whatever you want
- on writing realistic daily tasks, the secret is knowing you can only do so much in one day, but trusting you can accomplish everything in the course of any period of time (a week, or 2 weeks or a month, etc.) because you will combine the work from all these different days.
- it’s very tempting to write down all the tasks you need to accomplish in one day to just get over with it, but the real deal is you won’t accomplish half of them. You’ll feel very unproductive then, wich leads to demotivation.
- spread daily tasks in the time necessary.
- have a consistent sleep schedule.
- if your mind isn’t ready everything will fall apart.
- have one rest day per week where you plan nothing, do whatever you want except studying. this can be harder than you expect!
(don’t forget these are effective only if you actually put them into practice! good luck babes!!)
“Shhh Lena, you’re okay. I’m right here. They can’t hurt you anymore.”
Alternatively:
“…I’ll make sure of it.”
based on this work by Frank McCarthy
What he took is very important to a lot of very dangerous people.
Katie McGrath as The Adjudicator
tell me something random
(read on ao3)
Sat up against the headboard in bed, Kara’s been working ahead on a few e-mails for a while when the spot next to her sinks, its new occupant a towel-wrapped body that plasters itself onto the left side of her own. As pale fingers inch across the laptop, closing around the corner of the screen in a silent question, a damp chin burrows pokes the soft skin just under her clavicle in an attempt to fit into her shoulder, the right hand snaking into Kara’s.
At the familiar move, she turns her head slightly in order to plant a kiss on her girlfriend’s hairline before closing the L-Corp-enhanced computer and setting it on the bedside table.
When Kara settles back down, Lena moves the hand she has a hold of in order to wrap the Kryptonian’s arm around her and inch impossibly closer, tugging across Kara’s waist and pillowing her head just over the warm chest.
Ever since Lena hugged her without high heels for the first time and discovered the benefits of their height difference, this has been her favorite spot – ear just above Kara’s beating heart, arms pulling her middle close close closer. It always takes their heartbeats mere minutes to start singing in unison, and whenever the sound dances around her ears, it’s the most peaceful she’s ever seen either of them get.
“Hey, baby,” she says after a while, carding her fingers through damp, uncombed raven hair.
“Hi,” Lena nuzzles her face against Kara’s skin, not unlike a cat, and the flutter of her eyelashes spreads a fuzzy feeling in the blonde’s stomach.
“Okay day?” They just do this sometimes – curl up into the other and wordlessly snuggle, just for the sake of it, – but Kara can’t help loosely lacing the question with concern.
“Mhmm,” her girlfriend nods, an easy smile pressed into Kara’s warm skin that she finds herself returning immediately at the confirmation.
“You smell like peaches,” she remarks, after turning to plant another kiss onto the crown of her head and inhaling deep.
“I always smell like peaches,” Lena counters.
“I know, it’s heavenly.”
“I wasn’t aware you had such strong feelings towards peaches.”
“I mean, duh. They smell like you.”
Lena breathes out a surprised chuckle, and Kara doesn’t need to unlatch from the top of her girlfriend’s head to know there’s a pretty pink dusting across her cheeks.
“You sound like you’ve been gifted a bottle of Alderian rum again,” are tonight’s chosen words of deflection, but the fist on her shirt still grips the littlest bit tighter as Lena edges that much closer.
“Nah, just very much in love.”
“Is love supposed to cause your neurons to spontaneously self-destruct?”
“I don’t know, ma’am,” Kara shrugs. “You’re the scientist.”
Lena hums noncommittally and takes a deep breath, pressing a warm kiss to the skin under her cheek.
Without words to get in the way, they let their senses overflow with each other – fresh scents and smooth skin and the symphony of beating hearts and content breaths of two people who, against all odds in such a large, uncaring world, belong.
“Missed you,” Kara offers eventually, running her fingers feather-light up and down Lena’s arm.
She says it, because she knows Lena won’t. Because on some occasions, her girlfriend just isn’t quite there yet, and Kara can tell that today is one of those days. But she can also tell that Lena needs to hear it – something about the way her fist still hasn’t let up its grip on the fabric of her shirt.
“Missed you, too,” comes the murmured reply, fingers loosening the slightest bit as she sinks into the even movements of Kara’s chest.
Lena’s presence is the closest Kara gets to silence in the city; it’s like all her senses latch onto the woman – the rhythm of her heart, steady rise and fall of her chest, the slightest changes on the texture of her skin and the way light bounces off of her. How she knows for a fact that the scent of peaches couldn’t hold a candle to what lies beneath, something that is just intrinsically, essentially, entirely, Lena.
It can be inconvenient, even maddening, at times. How she can’t help but focus on her girlfriend’s vital signs if an alien attacks her vicinity; how she would do anything not to hear all the countless little tells that Lena is getting upset during an argument, especially if she asks for some time alone to cool off and kara can feel her crying from halfway across the city in a level that is so much deeper than merely hearing her sobs.
But in moments like this, the sound of silence provided by Lena is the most beautiful thing she’s ever felt.
“Tell me something random,” she voices the familiar request eventually, the tips of her fingers being played with and occasionally meeting Kara’s lips in one kiss or another.
“I once took a penguin flying,” the blonde replies without missing a heartbeat, and Lena snaps her head up, breathing out that surprised chuckle she always makes whenever Kara shares an anecdote.
“What?!”
“Alright, I was young, and they just- They have their little wings, but they can’t fly, and I mean, what if it upsets them, Lena?” She asks with wide, worried eyes.
“So you thought you’d just pick one up off the zoo and fly it around the town, see if it enjoyed the experience?”
“Uh, excuse you,” the Kryptonian lifts her head in feign outrage. “I went to the Arctic and flew them around temperatures they were comfortable with, thank you very much.”
Lena snorts, “And how did that work out for you?”
“Better than it did with the chicken,” she shrugs.
As Lena opens her mouth to ask, lips unable to contain an amused smile, Kara lifts a hand to stop her in her tracks and closes her eyes with the expression of a haunted woman.
“We don’t talk about the chicken,” she states, somberly.
Lena’s chin drops.
“Wh- Is it alive?”
Kara glares at her, a mixed look of horror and betrayal in her eyes.
“Yes, it’s alive,” she grumbles on, “I, however, nearly did not share the same fate, but thank you for your concern.”
“Now you have to tell me,” her girlfriend states after recovering from the bark of laughter she let out.
“We don’t. Talk about the chicken,” Kara stands her ground, looking no less adorable. It earns her a kiss on the tip of her nose.
“You’re an idiot,” the youngest Luthor states affectionately.
“I’m your idiot,” the last daughter of Krypton answers easily, and a hand comes up to cover her entire face.
“One of these days, you’ll have to stop harassing me with those cheesy lines,” Lena pleads, but through her fingers, Kara can see her cheeks flush pretty pink again. She flips their position to pepper kisses all over it.
“Never,” comes the saccharine-sweet promise she fully intends to keep.
