kara zor-el | supergirl

AND THEN ONE BIG FAT KRYPTONIAN PUNCH ENDS IT. part of sokovia rising

[kryptonianpunch]

wondxrwoman​:

It had been years since Diana had seen Kara. Really seen Kara, there in the flesh. A person, not a red-and-blue blur on a screen. Diana had missed her, as she had missed all of the former League, but—Kara was Kara. Clark’s Kara, whom she’d known since she’d been a girl. Since Clark had barely been more than a boy himself. 

Kara, who was staring up at the Mousehole stone-faced, the familiar planes and valleys of her face somehow hardened in ways Diana had only caught glimpses of throughout the years. She knew that wherever Clark was, Kara generally wanted to be, and yet—

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t so sure. Sokovia had made her paranoid. 

(Diana had spotted her from outside a window, and she hadn’t thought twice before opening it to float down. That had been when Kara’s expression had registered.)

“Kara,” she greeted warmly when she was near, stowing any (hopefully, misguided) concerns. “Welcome, sister. Clark said you’d be coming.” Well—he’d said might. After asking permission. But it all amounted to the same thing, in the end: Kara was there, with them rather than the ISA, and that was what mattered. 

“Will you come in? Or would you rather stay out here?” She asked, tilting her head. Most people would have been bothered by the crisp air and the snow, but neither of them were. And it was a sunny day, making the frozen-over snow sparkle in the sun. 

Sister. 

The frown deepened, Kara’s gaze shifting from the castle to Diana herself, a slow pull that might have looked like it required a great deal of effort. She had never minded the term before. It had offered a form of camaraderie, affection even, back when she had been desperate to forge bonds in a new world. But now it felt forced, unearned. And she couldn’t say if the fault started with her or Diana. 

(Probably Kara herself, but she wasn’t in a place to actually care, let alone actually reach out to try and fix it.) 

“I haven’t decided yet.” Her attention turned forward once more, hard lines becoming almost contemplative. There was something to be said about the fact that this would be a place where she wouldn’t have to pretend (at least inside those walls), but she knew she would still have to play a role, falling in line, following whatever orders she was given. Go back to hiding in plain sight. 

But she couldn’t go back, couldn’t be the awkward girl in glasses with the big smiles and too-loud laughter. That version of herself might have been easier to get along with, but she wasn’t real. 

“I have no interest in what you’re doing here.” Certainly not enough to ask for specifics, but she knew Diana would find the truth one way or another and Kara didn’t feel any shame to bother trying to hide it. “My only concern is Kal-El and protecting our family’s legacy.”

[kryptonianpunch]

lastsonofkrypton​:

Clark deserved this, and worse. He rubbed his chest and grimaced while the locals watched him get hit in the face with a hot coffee. Sighing, he nodded. “I deserved that.” They’d switched to Kryptonese, which Kara spoke better than he did. He’d only ever really learned it from the holograms of his father. And his very dear and loving cousin. 

“No one else knows, Kara, I swear, not even Ma and Pa. I couldn’t risk the ISA hurting you if they thought you believed I was alive. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, however much you hate me, believe that. You know I never want to hurt people.” And yet he so often did, and usually the people closest to him. “I did almost die. That part wasn’t a lie. I’ve only been recovered for since just after Christmas.” He sighed. “I was going to tell you. I just … I just don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

/

Kara did nothing more than raise a defiant brow at the first sign of agreement, something that didn’t really mean anything. Because that was just classic Kal, he felt guilty about everything (sometimes, it seemed, things that weren’t even his doing). She assumed it was supposed to be honorable, enough that she would have admired it once, but it did little to soften her demeanor now, his extended explanation even less so. 

(But she didn’t hate him. No matter how much she probably should. Because he was all she had.) 

“You do realize, Kal,” she started, voice steely as their nickname, “that it is you hurting the people you care about. And not because you put them in danger.” The last sentence was almost mocking because no. He never changed, kept making the same mistakes that got them into the Accords and now again on the backside. Because he didn’t understand (or simply chose to ignore) that some things were more important than supposed safety, that sometimes people were willing to accept the risks. And that, sometimes, the risks still existed regardless. Especially since he was doing such a great job hiding. Really.  Who almost died, went on the run, and immediately went to work? What was he even doing? The way she saw it - if he really wanted to play savior, he should have stayed in the fortress. Because: 

“First hint that you’re alive and well, Kal. Who do you think they’re going to pay a visit to draw you out? Don’t you think Ma and Pa Kent,” and a fondness wrapped itself around their names despite herself, “should have at least some warning?” That is, if he didn’t actually care about giving them peace of mind.

[kryptonianpunch]

warukuzuri​:

This wasn’t Daken’s most well-thought out plan, but it seemed to be going along fine. Even if this woman didn’t have any information for him, he might score a nice place to send the night, or at worst, an ally to have in this city. Considering he was very out of his element in a new city, not knowing anyone, getting his name and face around was essential. Not his real name or face, but the idea was there.

“What’s your poison?” Daken said with a grin. He was still trying to figure out if this woman would be receptive to him alone, or would need a little help from his powers. He wouldn’t want to risk people finding out about his mutant status so early, especially combined with everything going on with the X-men right now, it might be better to lay low. Thankfully, Daken had enough money he earned (and a bit he wired from Osborn) to be fine in the bar. “I’m Akihiro, by the way. I just got here.”

/

Pleased with his ready reply, Kara turned forward once more and held up her near-empty glass to grab the attention of the bartender.  Minus the slight communication issue, he had failed to find a need to cut her off twice now, though Kara supposed she would have to start playing the part of drunken patron thanks to her new-found company. 

“How ‘bout something stronger?” she suggested, turning back to Akihiro and knocking back the final sip of her margarita. “Because this doesn’t seem to be doing the trick.” How unfortunate. But as Kal had been so keen to remind her  - apparently it was okay for a man to decide what was best for everyone without actually giving them any input (especially under the guise of so-called chivalry). So why not let this one do it too. 

Still. She wasn’t so reckless and this guy didn’t seem to recognize her, which was actually nice so:

“Linda. And I suppose I can say the same. I was just planning on passing through, but it turns out,” her features twisted unhappily, just a moment, before she forced the smile back on, “I have family in the area.”

[kryptonianpunch]

for @wondxrwoman​

“You know what I mean,” Alex had said when Kara raised a mocking brow at her accusation that she had become too alien. And she supposed there was something to be said about the fact that she had lived and breathed Supergirl for the better part of three years, all but living in the suit because it wasn’t like Linda Lee actually had to be anyone or anything. There’d been no pretending - no reason to act like she couldn’t move faster, see farther, lift just about anything.

That had been the one good thing about the Task Force. Everything was out in the open (well, on her side of things, anyway). And she might have continued on in much the same way - she certainly didn’t fear the ISA (not in the way that she probably should) - except she had found Kal. She would have gladly courted trouble before, taking any excuse that would allow her to break the promise she had made to Alex guilt-free, but she couldn’t now. Not when it risked her cousin, too. When it meant failing her duty to protect him. Again. 

But how devoted to her refreshed assignment did she want to be? Did she really need to play house when she didn’t actually need anything? Honestly. After years of not slowing down, she struggled to do it now, almost like she was in the wrong body, her movements stilted whenever she strolled along at what was obviously a snail’s pace (snails might even move faster, actually). She swore it hadn’t been this difficult, playing human, but that was before, back when her powers had still been new, when they had been something foreign and unnatural, unfitting for the student of science she had hoped to be. 

And now? She didn’t understand why Kal even bothered. 

Still. She might have considered that too alien thing as she stared blankly (so she intended - it might have been more of a death glare) up at the new headquarters, arms crossed, contemplating whether or not she actually wanted to go in.

[kryptonianpunch]

warukuzuri​:

=Open Starter=

From the moment Daken set foot in Sokovia, his mind was already racing with perspective ways to claw his way to the top, quite literally. After weeks of studying maps, the language, and anything else he could find about the country, he felt like he was finally ready. He had friends (or at least someone that could vouch for him) in high places, which was already paying off. He had a nice apartment, and a savings account to fall back on in case things got dicey. Which they wouldn’t. All Daken was missing was connections here in Sokovia. And the best places to meet connections was a bar. Lowered inhibitions, looser mouths, and Daken’s quick healing factor meant he could drink all he wanted and not worry about anything. It was the perfect plan.

Daken had been sitting at the end of the bar for a few minutes, observing the crowds coming in and out. His goal was to find someone that looked like they had information they were willing to shell out for a pretty face. And maybe a healthy pump of pheromones would help. He slid up behind the person he’s been watching, trying to look as innocent as possible. “You look smart. Is this the place to go to find good company?”

/

It really sucked that Kara couldn’t get drunk. Because it would be really, really nice, even just the once, to simply forget everything - the past few years, the entire decade, everything she had lost. So all in all, that probably meant that it was better if she couldn’t, but that still didn’t stop her from trying on those really bad days, ordering shot after bitter shot, chasing them down with her favorite pink margarita because maybe she just hadn’t found the right drink yet, maybe she just hadn’t reached whatever her unusually high threshold happened to be.

Maybe. 

Not.

They were good drinks all the same, flavor (or just nourishment in general) something Kara had taken to avoiding in her grief, the rush to find Kal (who hadn’t needed to be found apparently, Kara always too late to do her damn job). She tried to enjoy that, even when an unwelcome voice drifted over her shoulder. She looked smart? Really. She wasn’t even wearing her glasses. But Kara plastered on her most welcoming grin all the same, turning her head, chin resting on her shoulder. “Buy me a few drinks and maybe we’ll find out.” Because she might have been running up the tab. And she might not actually have the money to settle when all was said and done. Oops. 

[kryptonianpunch]

lastsonofkrypton​:

Clark, who hadn’t been having the best week, had done what he always did; he went to help people. With it being winter, there wasn’t much to harvest or do with the crops, but there were always things to fix. Winter was the time of year where you fixed things, so he did that. He worked on roads, helped repair barns, and agreed that they didn’t make farm equipment like they used to, though he had no opinion on the quality of Soviet machinery. While his Sokovian was still barely enough to ask for the time of day, the locals had enough English and you could always just point and repeat a word enough times to make your point clear. 

He was in the process of trying to sort out the complex issues of the drainage system of Matchak (there was either a block or an infestation of weasels, he wasn’t sure) when a hand held his wrist and a heartbeat sang to him. It was the only other heartbeat of its kind in the whole wide world, and it was, though he tried not to make too much of it, one of his favourite. He suspected it would embarrass Kara if he explained. He didn’t want her to think he didn’t love and appreciate her as a person. But she was like him, and that was a kind of special that he doubted most people could understand. 

“Hello, cousin.” He hugged her before she could resist, or interrogate him, which she would probably do almost immediately, and whispered in her ear, “please don’t yell at me in front of the locals, they’ll think you’re my wife.” Beaming, because he’d missed her, of course he’d missed her, he put an arm around her shoulder. “My cousin. Little drunk!” Miming drinking, the rest of the crowd nodded, understanding clear to them. 

“Would it help if I said I missed you?”

/

It took Kara a moment to fully process what sound she had followed, and then another to realize who she had grabbed, and even then she could only stare blankly, dumb-founded. But it was Kal-El. She’d found him. Finally. But something wasn’t right. He was laughing, making jokes, back to playing pretend. Something they haven’t had to do in years. But he wasn’t just playing pretend. Her eyes darted behind him, to the locals who now seemed quite amused by her, took in his general appearance. No signs of Kryptonite thank you very much, but he was …

He was working. Just working. He’d gotten blasted by a stupid missile and she’d spent months thinking he was dead and then several more looking for him when she realized that he wasn’t and there he was. Working. Like it was just another day.

And suddenly, wrapped in his embrace, Kara felt like she was sixteen again. 

But this wasn’t the comforting safety of her father’s arms. And she certainly didn’t feel youthful, like she could have the whole world at her fingertips if she just tried. No. She was sixteen, so very small, the top was being ripped off her pod and she had actually made it to this stupid planet - her home burned, family dead - but it was twenty-two years too late and Kal was fully grown, older, leaving Kara with nothing to do but pretend like him. She even had the strange city and the language barrier to add to the ambience, all that nostalgia. 

But he was fine. Completely fine. And Kara didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry and so naturally she chose option number three. Because Kal-El was an, “Idiot.” And in Kryptonese it was a much more impressive insult. Almost satisfying. The finger jab that accompanied it would have sent anyone else clear across town, but Kal should at least feel it. Still, it wasn’t enough. Not nearly. But she couldn’t punch him. Not the way she wanted to. So that nice, hot coffee she’d been so kindly handed. She threw that at him, too. It wouldn’t hurt, but he deserved the scene he so clearly didn’t want.

[kryptonianpunch]

loisbehold​:

Lois often wandered around the city, the better to catch what was going on. She had her hands in the pocket of her coat, shoulders hunched against the cold. She was lost in thought, eyes combing the surrounding crowds in case anything jumped out at her, when someone grabbed her wrist. She didn’t jump or scream, but her heart jumped as she turned around, her free hand going into her pocket where she kept pepper spray. She almost laughed when she saw who it was. The pepper spray would be useless, for one thing.

“Kara, hi,” she said, pulling her hand out of her pocket as she looked up at her. Kara’s skin was so hot it burned against her own, but she was used to that. “You okay?” she said, tilting her head as she looked up at the familiar face. 

*

“Lois.” 

A breath of disappointment surrounded the name, something that wouldn’t match the relieved hug she immediately wrapped her up in. Probably just a little too tight before Kara remembered to release her, a confused frown forming. 

“Where are we?” Because surely she hadn’t zipped all the way to Metropolis without realizing it. She would recognize the city, the language; something would have surely slowed her down along the way. But where didn’t even matter, that wasn’t important, and Lois’ own question opened the floodgate, information pouring out. Because Lois was someone Kara could trust, this at least an area in his life where Kal had chosen well. So she told her everything - things she probably already knew about Washington, how Alex had all but kidnapped her and the promise she had made to earn her eventual release (“Don’t do anything stupid.” Kara hardly thought pursuing the guilty was stupid. That was justice, necessary even, given their willingness to harm innocents and Kal was innocent. But she would try to keep her word all the same. Because it was Alex. Because finding Kal was more important.). She detailed going to the Fortress and what she had found there, her tireless search since. And she did it all in Kryptonese, hands moving to form the accompanying signs as had become a habit, but regardless she had no reason to expect Lois to understand any of it save for the few words she used often, had patiently passed on. 

Perhaps she had been on her own too long, after all. 

But it didn’t matter. Only one thing was important and she repeated it gladly, in a barely restrained whisper, “Kal-El is alive.”

[kryptonianpunch]

Please like and/or reply for a character specific starter from Kara (or I have Steve, too)!

[kryptonianpunch]

Open Starter!

She must look strange, back ramrod straight on the hard bench, head cocked to the side as she tried to sort through the usual assortment of sounds until she found exactly the right one. It was almost like unraveling a tangled ball of yarn until she reached a usable end - the first layer was easy enough, all the chatter easily discarded (especially when she didn’t even speak the language) but beneath it was yet more chaos and annoyance had started to fray her once careful concentration  (it shouldn’t be this hard, finding one single Kryptonian). She had at least remembered the sunglasses this time, hiding closed eyes, but apparently this did less to deter unwanted interruptions and at a taptap,  a too-close question pierced through all her hard work until everything came back. 

Kara raised her chin, eyes opening to the sight  of a woman holding a thick winter jacket and travel cup, a steady billow of steam rising out the top. Both were extended in her direction and Kara blinked. Her gaze rose higher, passing over the crowd of bundled-up humans, the distant white blanket of snow, and finally taking in the traitorous blue sky, all that lovely sunshine. Damn. 

Temperature. 

She always forgot to check the stupid temperature. 

So there she was, still dressed for the beach and staring blankly at the woman who merely nodded encouragingly, words Kara didn’t understand coming out of her mouth at a furious pace. But she sounded worried, concerned, and Kara was surprised to feel her lips quirk upwards. 

And then, just like that, the vibrations ripped through her. Something familiar. Kara was on her feet faster than the woman could blink (oops), gently (always so gently with humans) taking the offered gifts. She tried again, to smile, but it must have been a fluke, the earlier one, because she couldn’t quite get her mouth to repeat the movement. “Thank you,” she tried instead and then Kara was off before the woman could respond, shrugging the jacket on and rejoining the crowd, letting the sea of people swallow her until she could zip off, letting the single note carry her and whooshing to a stop behind the source, fingers reaching out with intent to trap the other’s wrist.