Last Full Moon Of The Year, In Þingvellir By Ann Silvestre.

Korrasami Week Day Five

Okay, I’m super late. Plus, I have a busy working weekend so... I’ll do my best. But I want to finish these prompts, because it’s been super fun so far!

I wanted to write a meet cute between tennis player Asami and Korra walking Naga in the park, but... I ended up writing this, simply because I’m rewatching book one of Korra. Hope you enjoy :)

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Prompt: au

Tarrlok waits for them at the end of the street, surrounded by a small group of soldiers. They are unnaturally still under the artificial lamplight, and Korra feels the urge to scratch her gray uniform. It''s the same they are wearing.

"Avatar Korra. Councilman Tenzin."

The urge to punch him rises violently. She settles for a nod instead.

"Councilman Tarrlok," Tenzin greets back and Korra imagines the clench of his jaw.

"Greetings," Tarrlok continues stiffly, "I apologize for requiring your presence this late in the day. I am aware of your wife's health, Tenzin, and I know how much you hate to depart from her when unnecessary."

Korra doesn't recognize the jab as one, but something in his sneer makes her prickle.

Tenzin folds his hands under his robes, the vibrant red of the air nomads humming in the night. "I have a duty to uphold to the citizens of Republic City," he says instead of answering directly.

Tarrlok breaks his posture to unfold his crossed hands. He tugs at the hem of his sleeve and a couple of men shift behind him. Korra's eyes divert to them, annoyed.

"Well? Are we going?" she snaps, mostly because she is quite horrible at standing still and waiting.

Tarrlok smiles a little, in a way that implies he's privy to the exact nature of the Avatar's thoughts, "Of course."

Korra turns and starts walking.

The guards arrange quickly in formation, a shield of human bodies built around them to separate and cover. They force a painfully slow pace that quickly grows insufferable.

After an unnoticeable number of turns and corners, Korra notices a purple streak of a non-bender band. It's a woman, kneeling on the ground with an half empty bowl of coins at her feet. One of Tarrlok's men kicks her, scattering her meager possession in the dirt.

Korra hides her fists and focuses on the fluttering of Tenzin's robe.

"Tarrlok," Tenzin motions at him but tilts his head in her direction, "What exactly is the nature of this... ambush?"

"I'd hardly call it an ambush," comes the airily reply, poorly camouflaged in the bubble of a chuckle, "More like a further assessment. A thorough evaluation."

It's nothing, Korra wishes to convey to Tenzin with the skip in her gait but the airbender keeps his gaze fixed in front of him.

"Is it really necessary? Mr. Sato is-"

"Mr. Sato is regularly detained at the station and is waiting to be tried in his cell right now, as dictated by our laws. Along with his fellow Equalists. Those non-benders," he spits the word like the foulest thing.

Korra shivers, thoughts swimming around the beggar woman.

"No," Tarrlok shakes his head, complacent smile scraping his features, "Our visit to the Sato residence concerns his daughter, Asami Sato."

Korra chokes on an angry huff. There's nothing she hates more than wasting time with practiced coquetry and luxurious cutlery.

"What about Miss Sato?" Tenzin's pitch lowers with curiosity. Korra wonders if Tarrlok can pick up the different inflection.

"She was summoned for her father's deposition at the central. She denied every involvement with him. She claimed she had no idea of his funding to the Equalist movement. And that he had been faking his bending all his life without her knowledge."

His cold scorn travels down through the cobblestones, "Living under the same roof, and she has no clue? Hardly believable. But Captain Beifong had the brilliant idea of letting her go right after the deposition. She said the girl passed that lying detection technique of her," he leans against an appeasing tone, "But you surely understand that I can't trust a judgment based on guesses and sensations. Especially when the safety of all citizens is involved."

Tenzin ruffles at the accusation, "Lin didn't become chief because of lucky guesses."

"Captain Beifong," Tenzin winces at the emphasized title, "Was a good chief. Probably one of the best. And she'll be dearly missed."

Korra's body jerks, "What do you mean?"

Tarrlok startles and the surprise on his face reeks of falseness, "Oh, nothing nefarious young Avatar. That was poor phrasing on my part. I apologize," he offers a dismissive gesture, "She presented her letter of resignation this morning. And her desk was empty by the end of the shift."

"Was it a voluntary gesture? Or did you force her hand, Tarrlok?"

Startled by her mentor's direct outburst, Korra feels the air turning tense with an unreleased tension.

"Mere semantics, Tenzin. You know better than most how important that is, especially in politics- Ah, here we are," he trails off to inspect the profile of the mansion unfurling from the cloak of darkness in front of them. Tarrlok crosses his arms and the group halts at the implicit command.

"What really matters here, Tenzin, isn't Lin Beifong. It's that her resignation came right after Miss Sato's interrogatory. That seems suspicious."

The formation of guards shatters as the cold gleam of Tarrlok's eyes reflects on the front gate.

+++

It's Asami Sato herself that greets them at the door. The absence of servants ruffles Korra's assuredness in a motion she can't comprehend. Nonetheless, Asami's lean figure withstands the rough profiles of Tarrlok's armed guards.

The marble of the foyer echoes under Korra's steps.

"Miss Sato," Tarrlok's voice diffuses, "I apologize for the intrusion. But we just have a few follow up questions for you."

"I'll lead you to my father's study, then. If you'd follow me."

The click of closing doors strikes like thunder.

Hiroshi's personal study is a mosaic of notebooks with torn pages and missing covers, a capsized sofa and decorated drawers emptied on the carpeted floor. A couple of guards linger in the hallway while the others pile in silently. When she counts them, Korra notices two more are missing, remained behind at the front gate.

"Don't mind the chaos, please," the heiress waves at the room, freeing a pinned lock from the top of her head, "I haven't found the time to clean yet. Otherwise, make yourself comfortable."

Tarrlok is the only one who picks up an upturned chair to sit. Korra remains standing beside Tenzin and when Asami circles back to her own seat, she has to drag one leg off the floor to move the chair.

"Then you don't mind if I let my men have another look? Just to be certain we had gained all intel the first time."

Asami's nod is so curt it might be a wince.

Korra feels words blurting from her mouth too late to stop them, "What about your servants? Can't they clean up the study?" she carefully avoids mentioning Hiroshi directly.

For the first time, the heiress green eyes pause on the Avatar, her gaze flickering up and down Korra almost casually. It's a moment before she gives her answer.

"Not many wishes to have the name of a criminal employer staining their resume. Especially one who faked his own bending for years."

A pool opens in Korra's stomach and she struggles to picture ornate dishes and perfected dance routines.

Tarrlok crosses his legs, lifting one foot, "And you?"

"Are you asking if I'm a criminal or a non-bender?" Asami's face is pale and drawn.

"Isn't it the same?" Tarrlok says and Korra watches him nod solemnly "Being a non-bender means having a tainted soul, since the gods didn't see fit of giving to those the natural gift of bending. If a soul is rejected by the flawless gods then how can they be accepted by the flailed society of mindless humans? An inner source of evil so great to be scorned by our deity..."

Korra hates the sound of those words, but no matter how much she wishes to spit, she's always forced to choke on them.

"The sins of a father aren't easily washed away."

Tarrlock's smiles dies on the ripple of his lips as he unfolds his legs.

A rueful smile dawns on the heiress, "Though I can assure you, I'm nor a criminal, nor a non-bender."

"We're here to determine that, Miss Sato," as Tarrlok's words cuts, a tearing sound pierces the air and Korra doesn't need to turn to see a guard slashing the cushions of the sofa.

Tenzin's hands remain hidden between the folds of his tunic, "Miss Sato," he speaks for the first time, "You already denied your affiliation with Hiroshi Sato to Chief Beifong. Do you still claim that to be true?"

Asami's eyes flickers to Korra for a brief moment, before turning back to meet Tenzin. She nods.

"Verbal confirmation is preferred, if you'd please," Tarrlok's voice loses tge dripping formality, the honeyed coat of false pleasantries fallen apart.

"Yes," Asami's timbre curls, "I had no idea of my father's involvement, nor about his nonexistent bending, even if him leaving Future Industries makes much more sense now. I never questioned his earthbending. It seemed pointless to use it in a house you didn't want to be destroyed," her eyes shoot around in the room, "So the only place he really displayed his abilities were the workshop or the fabric. I loved helping him with his inventions."

Korra gets the feeling Asami didn't want the last words to surface, but her opportunity is lost in her own flinch when another shelves gives under one man's searching with a loud thud. A cascade of books tumbles down to the floor.

Tarrlok motions over the desk and one of his men brings forward a bag.

"Then I suppose you would have never seen this before."

They all watch as Tarrlok subjects Asami to stumble through the tight bindings of the bag. After the last knot gives, a contraption of some sorts emerges from it, a match of split wires and twisted metal parts that cross in a sort of gauntlet. One end is blackened, resembling a burnt.

Once again, there's silence.

"What's that?" Korra twitches and feels at once all the weight of her impatience and inexperience in the flicker of Asami's eyes. She barrels through stubbornly, running head on as usual.

Tarrlok offers the same little smile as before, "That, young Avatar, is one of Hiroshi Sato's inventions. Apparently, it can grant the illusion of earthbending." he snatches the bag off the table, "Like bending could be lowered to a feeble and flimsy creation of a mortal who tries to play god."

The gauntlet gleams, harbouring hidden mysteries. Korra's gaze slowly trails down the wiry junctions, fractured design of a sinewy form. She tries to grasp the feeling of using it under her fingertips, if it buzzes with electricity. Her imagination circles back to the energy that flows and tingles in her body every time she bends.

How utterly amazing. "How does it work?" Tenzin asks and Korra basks in the inquisitiveness. No matter how resilient and traditional her master appears, Tenzin is surprisingly open minded faced with progress.

"My team of analysts were fascinated by the sheer genius behind this invention," Tarrlok palms the gauntlet, seduced despite his hate for the inventor, "Through carefully placed electrical charges planted in the ground, whoever wears this is able move entire sections of rocks. Something about repulsion and attraction between charges, I believe? It doesn't matter, engineer is a useless field of knowledge to benders."

Korra's uneasiness takes a tumble, "I disagree, Councilman," she struggles on the appellation, "It is important to draw and grow wisdom from different sources. If the knowledge has a single root, it inevitably withers and decays. Studying and understanding other elements and other disciplines, like in this case, is a key element to fairness and strength."

She smacks her lips together, feeling the tangy taste of stale on her tongue.

"A single discipline is doomed to failure, for its weaknesses will turn into cracks over time. Learning from others, even if criminals, will help us find the cracks in our society in time to heal them."

When she pauses, Tenzin clears his throat and it feels like a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Korra is right, Tarrlok. It's the same ideal Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko followed when they decided to build Republic City. One we should respect, even in regards of non-benders."

Asami's stare burns, a trail of blazing emeralds. Korra dares a smile back at her, one so quiet that feels more intimate than a simple reassurance.

Tarrlok scoffs a dry breath, "Ah, this sounds like important Avatar talk. And who am I to disagree with the Avatar herself?" his voice intones like a disagreement, "I suppose, it's fair to give recognition where it's due. Now a criminal, but lest anyone forget this, Hiroshi Sato was one of the most brilliant minds of Republic City."

Alive and remembered as dead.

"And I bet genius isn't the only trait that runs in the family."

The broken leg of the chair grates dully on the carpeted floor, "Very well," Asami concedes and rises, circling around her desk. In the corner, the sofa bleeds white feathers.

Asami makes her way through the sea of debris without stumbling. She picks a fallen photo and puts it back on the mantelpiece of an extinguished fireplace. She turns the frame to face the wall and Korra notices a crack in the middle.

Korra shifts on her feet to accommodate a small circle around the Sato heiress. Tarrlok lounges in his chair, only half turned towards the middle of the room.

Inhaling deeply, Asami spreads her hands open in front of her, palms up. She flicks her wrist and a ball of fire ignites over her fingers.

It's one Korra has never seen before.

A streak of purple dances between the rings of fire, an intense colour that envelops the whole flame around his contours. The ball rustles for a moment before the heiress directs it into the hearth.

"Shall we go outside?" Asami says, "I'm not really keen on letting my house burn again."

Again? Korra wants to ask, but Tenzin waves away her questioning flinch.

The purple now burning deepens the creases of Tarrlok's displeasure, "I hope you don't mind if my men carry on with their research."

Korra watches a purple shadow stretching in the emerald of Asami's eyes.

+++

Tarrlok's examination is humiliatingly forceful.

The black sky is repeatedly stabbed by purple arches of fire until the roaring of the flames succumbs to a shiver. Asami lures fire into the world with a violent crackle as her limbs twist in graceful vaults. Fallen autumn leaves sizzle beneath her dance, but she doesn't slip once nor loses control of her flames.

Tenzin and Korra stiffen in the open air, avoiding Tarrlok's steely glare.

"Why firebending? Doesn't she have Earth Kingdom heritage?" Asami's green eyes vibrate in Korra's mind.

Her master's robes look coal among the violet flashes, "I have to guess it comes from her mother's side of the family. Yasuko was a firebender."

"She was?"

"She was." Tenzin's sigh is drawn and hidden, "Yasuko was a firebender, but maybe most importantly, she was a talented singer. Loved by many for her beautiful voice and soul. Her concerts used to fill each row of the theatre. It was quite difficult to find a ticket for one of her shows."

Asami claps her hands and a surge of purple arches over her body.

"She used to hold small parties at her home after these concerts. Small gatherings, with food, wine and music."

Asami's punch surges into a plume of fire as Korra tries to reconcile the heiress' defiant silence with the warmth of a mother figure.

"Then, one night, the Agni Kai Triad attacked the estate during one of these parties. Yasuko was killed by one member of the triad who sought money and power," glowing embers of ash billow the hem of Tenzin's robes, "Asami was barely a child when it happened. And now to be robbed of the last of her family..."

Korra's thoughts chase the bulky profile of her own father Tonraq, locked in an image of his arms hugging a petite figure made of warm smiles and cold hands. Her own mother was segregated to the realm of memories, alongside with Yasuko.

Her circle of thoughts is soon shattered.

The liquid sounds of the night are muted by a new sparkling, a crackling that follows a new faltered rhythm. Asami's hand sparks blue as her fingers draw a slow movement in the air.

And lightning strikes a distant star, a flickering point that blinks down at them.

"Is that all, Councilman?" as she wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead, Asami's voice sounds small, a ruffle of emotion that surfaces for the first time. Plaintive. Young.

Tarrlok grits his teeth and stares ahead, lips thin.

"Almost. Could you remove your gloves?"

Korra's eyes lowers to Asami's gloved hands, which she hadn't noticed.

The black looks smudged against the pale fingers that inch into view. A guard accepts the gloves with stony silence and at Tarrlok's nod, he burns the cloth on his palm. The smoke burns black with traces of grease.

"Please continue, Miss Sato. I apologize for the interruption."

Asami replies to his jab with another crackle and a purple shield of fire, hands waving in a circular motion. She extinguishes the flame with a tired heave but her next motion is still fluid, a shuffle of feet that burns with purple sparks in its wake.

Conceding to a sudden instinct, Korra's orange fire joins the next flash of purple, the flames fading next to each other.

Asami's gaze sharpens – Korra's mind muddles over the word that describes it, because it feels they could change colour suddenly, maybe turn into the green hue of the forest. But, she's not a poet.

The intrigue in Asami's eyes drowns Tarrlok's irked scoff, "I'm not here to assist to a display of your skills, Avatar. But if you insist, I could ask Miss Sato if she'd like to spar with you."

The idea shakes Korra's core.

"I believe that's enough, Tarrlok," Tenzin interrupts, "You wanted to verify the nature of Miss Sato's bending. I think this will suffice to quench your doubts, once for all."

He turns away from him, "Miss Sato. Thank you for your time. I appreciate it."

Asami bows deeply to him in reply.

Tarrlok stiffens his stance but accepts the idea of a retreat. He bows stiffly to Asami, "Thank you, Miss Sato. And please, in the unlikely event that damage has occurred, you may claim compensation from our police department."

"I'm sure everything's in perfect order," Asami says and Korra's knuckles pale. The Water Tribe Councilman turns on his feet and follows the cold stomping of his men.

"Let's go, Korra," Tenzin bows again and leaves the Avatar to follow him.

Korra lingers in the garden, not brave enough to leave. But not brave enough to speak, either.

Asami smiles a little for both of them, "Meeting you has been an honor, Avatar."

The words stir Korra and suddenly she finds herself wishing she didn't have to leave so soon, "Uh, me too Asami. I mean, Miss Sato, uh... I..." the smile that pulls at her lips doesn't feel reluctant anymore.

"Asami will do."

Korra sticks her hand out, "I'm Korra."

Despite the firebending, Asami's palm feels rough, and a little cold in the middle. It feels nice.

"Uh, I hope," Korra stumbles, falters, "I hope this isn't the last I see of you?"

Asami's smile doesn't dim, but Korra can tell something makes her sadder, uncomfortable. For some obscure reason, her voice, when it finally comes again, is thick and palpably sad.

"Have a good night, Korra."

"You too, Asami."

When she reaches Tenzin and glances back, Korra sees Asami hasn't moved from her spot in the garden. She raises a hand in the night.

On the dark side of the Sato estate, one window burns purple.

+++

Alone in her study, Asami slumps down in her chair, mindful of its broken leg.

She tugs at one palm, looking for the edge of the hard rock she had molded into a thin plate to follow the dips and the curves of her hand. They come loose with a satisfying click from both palms, and she shivers at the cold air that nicks at her skin. She inspects the flints with a careful eye, looking for imperfections or chinks on their surface.

She idly strikes the two plaques against each other and they resonate with a sizzling crackle. A purple flame surges alive between them.

Sunflowers at Sunset - Miami, Florida [OC] [3042x4032] - Author: Dermity_Head on reddit

Femslash February 2017

4. Korrasami

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give her a keese

A college au Lena

This necklace - a dark blue band with a silver pendant - was a promise, more than anything. A promise Asami intended to make to Korra that meant forever. That meant no matter how often the world called on Korra to save it, Asami would be here for her, waiting and ready to tend to her wounds and find her smile again.

Asami and Korra found their happy ending. If only the world would let them enjoy it.

So, for the first time in almost six years, I’m writing Korrasami again. To say that I’m nervous would be a MASSIVE understatement lol. Either way, Korra and Asami have completely taken over my life again and I’m thrilled about it. I had to write more - and I really wanted to dip my toes back into canon even though it’s scary. I’m not as knowledgable about the Avatar world as I probably should be writing this, but if you can forgive a few canonical slips ups here and there, I hope to tell you a fun story.

This story will have…a lot. The plot is wild and a little bit all over the place but the main focus remains the same, Korrasami.

It’s set into the future, and has elements from the comics in the like (SPOILER) President Zhu Li and a few characters are thrown in like Commander Guan, but the actual events of the comics aren’t canon here (even though I love them).

Anyway, that’s more than enough out of me. I really hope you like this one - it’s been a while…

Hello 🙂 for the one hundred ways to say I love you I’ll ask you number 99! Thank you!

100 Ways to Say I Love you - "Be Careful" (Supercorp)

Maybe one of my shortest ficlets. A little Post-Phantom Zone reunion with a touch of angst.

Lena’s voice had been noticeably absent from the chorus of goodbyes from everyone gathered at the Watchtower as Kara prepared to head out on patrol. Something that she had tried not to notice, tried not to allow her mind to spin into some hurtful bit of fiction but as she prepared to head out on patrol she could feel herself doing just that. It didn’t surprise her... Not only did Kara have a way with words but she had months of incredibly painful memories to draw from back when she and Lena had been estranged, a deep well to draw fetid water from.. . Despite the careful progress the two had made since her return from the Phantom Zone, maybe they weren’t as okay as she thought they were… “Kara…” Lena’s voice floated to her from down the hall from the direction she had just come. There was the measured staccato click of her heels as she approached and when Lena drew closer the unmistakable beating of her heart, the tempo increasing ever so slightly when their eyes met... “Lena… Is something wrong?” Lena smiled shyly and shook her head., eyes trained momentarily on the ground before she looked up again and Kara was almost overcome with just how green Lena’s eyes truly were. The verdant green of some unending grassy meadow or the glittering ethereal beauty of delicately cut emeralds. “Nothing’s wrong,” Lena assured her. “I just…” She exhaled slowly and Kara took a step closer, concerned. “Promise me something?” she asked and before Kara could agree to Lena’s terms, she spoke again. “Be careful… Promise me that you’ll be careful, Kara.” Kara might have told her that she was just going out on patrol, that she had a better chance of being hounded for a picture than happening across an actual crime in progress but she saw the poorly masked fear on Lena’s face, the slight tremble in her hands and couldn’t get the words out. “I just got you back,” Lena whispered, throwing back the curtain on the root of her fear. “And I can’t…” She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head, dropping her gaze again as her shoulders started to hitch. “I can’t…” She trailed off again and shook her head, unable to get the words out but she didn’t need to. Kara already knew what she wanted to say. “I can’t lose you, Lena,” Kara said and took Lena gently by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug that Lena melted into, arms wrapping tightly around Kara’s back, her head coming to rest against her shoulder. “I promise that I’ll be careful,” Kara whispered, pressing her lips to Lena’s temple, still holding onto her tight, tight. “And you’re here now,” she whispered and felt her eyes mist over. There were no more secrets between them, no more lies, and now all that remained was the simple fact that they were two people who loved one another very much. “Right here with me,” Kara whispered. “Right where I always wanted you to be.” Lena nodded earnestly against Kara's shoulder and nuzzled closer, tears sliding down her cheeks that Kara did her best to brush away as gently as she could. She tilted her head slightly to the side and Kara felt Lena's hands glide down her sides sending a rush of blood to her head that made her feel the slightest bit dizzy. Her hands settled securely around Kara's waist and she lifted her head up from Kara's shoulder, eyes sparkling. "I'll be here," Lena said and pointed back towards the room in the Watchtower they had both just vacated. "And here." She pointed to Kara's ear. "And here," she whispered and pressed her hand over Kara's heart. She rose up half an inch onto the tips of her toes, lips brushing dangerously close against Kara's ear that got her heart racing. "Go get 'em, Supergirl."

A smile as bright as the rising sun lit up Kara's face and while she would have liked nothing more than to scoop Lena up into her arms and fly somewhere private... somewhere romantic, she knew that there would be time for that later, tonight maybe if all was quiet. "Dinner later? If you don't mind waiting," Kara said, giving Lena an out. "As long as you let me pay," Lena said and while her eyes were still damp, she looked like she was more than ready to dig her heels in if needed. "Deal," Kara said, rising a couple of inches off the ground, feeling so deliriously happy that she might have been able to fly on just that feeling alone and flew backwards, not wanting to take her eyes off of Lena, nearly flying into a water cooler before she finally turned around and put on a burst of speed, flying out and over the city. She couldn't remember the view ever looking so magnificent. "You both left your comms on," Alex said her voice filtering in through her suit's comms. "Next time maybe switch to a private channel," she suggested, her voice brimming with poorly restrained glee.

It’s in my DNA. So please, just stop believing in me, okay? I am not worth it.

There are Secrets of the Heart to Wonderful for Words

Another soulmate AU—in which the first words your person ever says to you are written on your wrist. Only Lena doesn't have any markings, and Kara has far too many.

Word Count: 1898

Read on AO3

Year: 2004

Lena:

Words. Lena Luthor obsesses over other peoples’ words.

From the time a person is born, the small, black letters written on their wrist indicate the first words they’ll hear their soulmate speak.

Except Lena doesn’t have any letters. She has a painfully blank canvas on her wrist where there should have been a saying. A word. Something.

Anything.

It’s the only thing Lillian likes about her. Or likes to point out about her, amongst not being a real Luthor or not being as smart as Lex. Not having a soulmate is a frequent point of conversation between them.

“I don’t need a soulmate,” Lena says every time it’s brought up. And she doesn’t. Her greatest love is learning. Why would she ever need anybody else? Why would she ever want anybody else?

Lena is pretty sure she doesn’t have a soulmate because it would be unethical to subject them to the Luthor family. They all have them, though. She’s glad she doesn’t have one. Really. She is.

“Who would love you?” Lillian sneers every time.

Harsh words that prove to be correct.

Lionel dies. Lex is in prison, and Lillian becomes crueler with every year that passes.

Lena’s blank wrists are another checkmate in Lillian’s books; as if their very lives are an entertaining game. Lena is good at chess — likes it — but she doesn’t always want to play. She is, however, resigned to a life of being toyed with. Lena knows it’s all she will ever have, and as horrible as it may be, Lillian’s sharp criticisms and condescension is better than nothing, isn’t it?

Kara:

Words. Kara obsesses over her words.

Most people have some form of a greeting written on their wrist.

Eliza has ‘Doctor Danvers? Hi, it’s great to meet you.’

Alex has ‘I’m looking for my brother, James.’

Everyone has a few short words written at the bottom of their arm, but not Kara.

Kara can’t believe the spiel of words that takes up her entire arm.

Sure, some people have more words than others, but Kara has never, ever seen anybody who has an entire half-sleeve, starting from the crease of her elbow and ending at her wrist. Some of the words aren’t even in the dictionary, though Eliza assures Kara that her soulmate must be a scientist, based on the tattoo.

Kara’s soulmate also believes, in the future when they meet, that Kara is a new intern.

Kara isn’t sure how she feels about that. The thought of someone assuming she isn’t as smart as the writing on her arm kind of insults her, even if she doesn’t know all the words yet.

“At least we’ll know who they are right away! You could have something generic, like ‘excuse me.’ Kenny has ‘sorry’ on his wrist.” Alex does her best to make Kara feel better about having the largest soul mark in the known universe.

Kara knows she’s a rambler. She’ll talk with her hands and go on and on and on about anything and everything with very little control over it, and she worries that her soulmate’s tattoo might be even longer than her own. She’ll just have to wait and see.

Sometimes she worries over her soulmate’s mark, though.

Would they even have one?

Present Day

Kara’s late. Gosh, she’s so late. She was supposed to be at the library an hour ago but her alarm didn’t go off and now she’s going to get fired. Or probably reprimanded. Or maybe Nia covered for her, but still! Kara is late to the only good job she’s ever had, where people don’t mind how quiet she is.

She can’t lose this job, not on her first week.

She rushes toward the library, or where she thought the library was. Moving to National City to be closer to Alex was a good idea, but on days like today when the concrete and glass of the buildings bleed together like some sort of shifting labyrinth, Kara doesn’t enjoy it so much.

Especially not with all the car horns and people chattering on their cellphones. Cigarette smoke burns her nose as someone longboards by her, and the smoke mixes with the food of the vendors lined along the street.

With the bright sun overhead, it’s too much. Too much noise, too many smells and sights and feelings, and Kara needs to escape it.

She pulls open the glass doors of the nearest building —a crisp white daroca stone one that towers above the rest—and she hopes nobody minds her borrowing the space to calm down.

The heat of the sun melts away to cool air that clings to her sweaty brow, the din of the city melting behind the door as it swings closed behind her.

Kara takes a few deep breaths before looking up, her eyes widening at the blue marble floors and the white fountain that’s sunken into the floor in the middle of the room.

Small ficus trees line the walls in grey, ceramic pots.

Its austerity is calming.

The receptionist at a monochrome silver desk raises an eyebrow and Kara waves, trying to convey she’s not a total weirdo.

She glances around the room and sighs in relief when she spots a shiny, silver plaque engraved in black letters and an arrow indicating the directions to the bathroom.

Kara adjusts her glasses before following the sign down a series of hallways — all a mirror image of the last with every turn she takes, but eventually, she pushes through the black door with a bathroom sign on it, locking it behind her.

She takes a few minutes to practice breathing before she goes to the white sink. It’s like a hotel bathroom almost, with another ficus in the corner, the white porcelain and silver chrome shining like it’s never been used.

Kara smiles as she washes her hands. The soap doesn’t smell like anything.

She pushes her glasses to the top of her head while she splashes cool water on her face, eager to get rid of the sweaty residue.

After drying off with a thick paper towel, Kara glances at her watch with a sigh.

She is late, but she can explain how she got lost, and try to avoid the mistake in the future. These things happen.

She nods at herself in the mirror before leaving the room, eager to try to find her way through the city again.

Only the inside of the building is just as maze-like, and Kara goes around in circles.

What’s weird is that even though the building is lovely —sleek and clean, nobody is in it.

Kara is in a maze of white walls and marble floors with never-ending ficus trees breaking up her twists and turns.

She rolls her eyes as she ducks into one of the black doors, intent to ask someone to help her escape.

She freezes and her eyes bulge as she enters a lab.

Like, a real, mad-scientist-esque lab filled with chrome robots that shine, immobile, on the surfaces of desks, varying glass vials on the surface of another.

Kara has half a mind to leave the room and continue her lost torment, but a woman in a white lab coat and a maroon three-piece suit underneath smiles at her as she sits up from behind a desk, dropping a screwdriver onto it.

Kara means to wave or introduce herself somehow. Really, she does, but the woman is so pretty, and as soon as her green eyes land on Kara, Kara’s mind goes blank.

“Oh, you must be my new intern. You’re early, though I suppose that’s not a bad thing since we have a lot of work to do. I just started testing the biological reactions of these DNA samples after I add in nanogenes. We’re only at a success rate of 73%, so we have a ways to go. Feel free to observe while I explain-”

She continues, and Kara ambles forward, helpless to the pull. She ambles between the few rows of lab tables until she’s close enough to read the name off of the woman’s lab coat.

Lena K. Luthor

Kara beams down at it as her heart thunders in her chest.

It feels exactly like she thought it would. Her palms are sweaty, and this woman rambles on and on about nanogenes and technology that could change the future.

Her green eyes sparkle with passion as she talks about her work, and already, Kara wants to get lost in them.

Kara’s breath comes in small pants, catching in her throat each time as she smiles at this beautiful, marvelous woman.

A woman whose words Kara has read over and over, words Kara doodled on top of when she was bored in class, read when she was sad, thought about to remind herself that there was someone, somewhere, waiting to be loved by her.

Lena’s jaw is sharp, like her mind, Kara’s sure. Her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail as she gestures to the microscope in front of her. Kara wants to reach out and touch her, hold her, explain who she is and how she got there.

Lena freezes when she turns back toward Kara, surprised by the proximity, and she raises her eyebrows at the closeness before they pinch in concern.

Tears have gathered in Kara’s eyes and she wipes them away with a noiseless chuckle. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and rests her leather bag on the lab table before she unbuttons the sleeve of her navy blue oxford.

Words upon words are revealed and Lena glances at them in confusion before her eyes grow wide.

Lena looks at Kara’s forearm, her own words —to the exact punctuation—staring back at her.

She reaches up to touch them, goosebumps rising across Kara’s skin as cool fingers caress her tattooed flesh.

The sleeves of Lena's coat and suit rise as she cradles Kara's arm like a precious thing, rubbing her thumbs across the paragraphs with reverent disbelief.

This is when Kara’s heart breaks because where there should be something —some grand declaration of all the fierce love Kara carries in her heart—all Lena has is pale, blank skin.

Lena bites her lips as she inhales a shaky breath through her nose. Her eyes, lovely sea-green eyes, are red around the edges and her lashes wet as she lets a tear trickle down her face.

She didn’t think she had a soulmate, Kara realizes.

And maybe Kara can’t talk—hasn’t spoken a word in her life—but she has never needed words to get her point across.

Kara points to her mouth with her tattooed arm, shaking her head when Lena looks up.

Lena’s shoulders ease in understanding, and she takes a breath so full it’s like the first time she’s ever breathed.

Kara bites her lips as she opens her arms, slow and tender as she brushes her hands across the white lab coat around Lena’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug that starts gentle but gets firmer the more Lena clings to her.

Kara rests her head on the side of Lena’s, sure that the steady pressure of her hug is saying everything for her.

It says, “I am here now.

I’m sorry it took this long.

I care about you so much.

And I am not going anywhere.”

I made a field guide about the Korok Forest (but it’s magical!)