Snippets! From here.

for [ profile] hannahrorlove: The one where Amanda Waller took over the world and became known as Supreme Earth Dictator.

The door to Amanda's chambers swung open, trilling joyfully with the news of her visitors. Ben and Mari hurried in, then threw their combined weight against the door to make it shut up a few seconds faster.

Mari took a deep breath and let it out as a growl. "If we're stranded here," she told Amanda, "you should decree that every door on the planet is torn from its hinges and *burned*."

"I'll take it under advisement," Amanda said. "*Are* we stranded here?"

Ben glanced once back at the door, but it seemed content to remain silent. He turned to Amanda. "It doesn't look good," he said. "The ship engine's dead or, at least, seems to be dead." He scrubbed a hand over his head. "And with the crew *definitely* dead, I wouldn't want any of us messing with it. We'd blow the planet up before we got off it."

Amanda glared out the nearest window, visiting her wrath upon the sunny vista of purple-mossed gardens and candy puff trees. "Do we know where this is, anyway?"

Ben and Mari exchanged a nervous glance. "Far," Mari said. "Farther than the Justice League's travelled. We're still in the Milky Way, probably even the right quadrant--"

There were two loud bangs, followed by a mass of high pitched giggling. A deeper voice, muffled by the walls, shouted, "Strewth!"

Amanda waved an arm, brushing the interruption aside. "Just Boomerbutt entertaining the locals," she said. "Luckily, they seem to be explosion proof. I could use a few on my team."

"Right..." Mari looked uncertain, like she was *mostly* sure Amanda was joking.

"The emergency transponder still seems to be working," said Ben. "I think our best bet is to signal the Green Lanterns and wait for rescue."

Amanda nodded. "Yeah, assuming they don't decide to rescue the population from our evil clutches..."

There was a soft breeze buffeting side of her face. Amanda turned towards it; standing behind her was a blue man about three feet high, holding a giant purple feather. He wafted it in Amanda's direction.

"You!" Amanda shouted, pointing at him. "I told you to stay out of here!"

"Yes!" The little man squealed happily. "And I remain outside for very many times! I follow your directions very well always, Supreme Earth Dictator!"

"Out! And stay there this time!"

"Yes, Supreme Earth Dictator!" The alien tried to nod at her, but he hadn't figured out how nodding was supposed to work. His head bounced vigorously in random directions, until Amanda was half afraid it would fall off his neck. "I stay out for one time! And then I return to follow many more directions!" The blue man scurried off, still nodding. When he opened the door, it wailed to see him go.

Amanda waited for the door to fall quiet. "Ben?" she said. "Signal the Lanterns. And the Darkstars. And, hell, even L.E.G.I.O.N." She turned back to the window, where a sort of winged rabbit creature fluttered brightly past. "I always knew world domination would be annoying."

for [ profile] daegaer: I'd also like to know about your story where Hastur and Ligur are popstars.

Hastur pulled the elastic away from his chest. It made a twaaaang noise, and then a thunk as it snapped back against his human body's flesh.

"They on right?" he asked.

Ligur looked behind him, tilting his head back and forth. "Don't think anyone cares, really," Ligur finally said. He picked up the second pair of costume butterfly wings and stared at them like he wished they'd spontaneously burst into flames, but didn't want to explain that on his expense report. "I don't see why we can't just use our own wings," Ligur grumbled.

Hastur backed up to the changing room mirror. He twisted his head over his shoulder to catch his reflection. A dark-haired human looked back at him, wearing eyeliner and body oil and too-small sequined pants. The wings fluttered.

"Not sparkly enough, I expect."

for [personal profile] caiusmajor: The one where Amanda Waller is the non-Dox parent of EVERY DOX EVER.

Amanda glared at the display Dox set up on her desk. It didn't mean much to her, all blinking curves and hovering exponents, but if that Coluan asshole thought she was going to be intimidated by a bit of fancy alien math, he didn't have half the brains she'd credited him. Never mind the brains he'd credited *himself*.

Dox stabbed his finger at a point in the air where several lines intersected. "...using your personal timeline as a first axis, the extensive warping... " He pulled his finger into a fist, stomped across her office, and then stomped back, jabbing his hand toward a section where a sine wave twisted into a spiral. "...And the Avoni wavefront collapses early across universes twelve through seventeen..." He spun away from her, squared his shoulders, spun back, and started shouting about timeline resonance.

He was angrier than she'd seen him, and god knew that bar was set high. But it was more than that. Something was scaring him, and Amanda wasn't sure she wanted to meet whatever had reduced a Brainiac to frightened rambling.

The projector Dox had slammed onto her desk didn't have helpfully labelled controls, but there was a groove on the side with an inset button. With human tech, that'd be the off switch. Amanda tapped the button, and was rewarded with the evaporation of the pulsing lines. Dox, caught mid rant, twisted on his heels to glare at her.

"You're talking Crisis nonsense," Amanda said. "I don't deal with that."

"My mistake," Dox said, dripping sarcasm. "I thought you lived in this multiverse." He crossed his arms, started to circle her desk, then changed his mind and started in the other direction. "Should I use smaller words?"

"First thing, you should sit your ass down before you make me sick," Amanda said. "It's like watching a teeter-totter."

Dox didn't take a seat, but he stopped pacing long enough to grin at her, slow and sharp and mean. The punchline was still coming, and Amanda wasn't going to like it.

for [ profile] poisonivory: The one where Linda and Kara met, in-continuity!

There's a slight change in pressure of the air around her, like a large balloon has suddenly and silently popped. Subtle, Linda thinks, glancing where Kara's appeared beside her in civilian clothes. Linda usually likes making an entrance; arriving with a crack of thunder and a dramatic whirlwind, but it'd be worth learning the trick.

Kara reaches out a hand and touches the artwork Linda's been considering, running her thumb over the red curve of 'S' splashed across the painted woman. There's something angry in that line, Linda thinks. The 'S' is stylized out from the geometric constraints of the crest, and it's far more vibrant than the rest of the palette. It could as easily be a wound carved into the woman's chest as a symbol of strength. The woman could be as easily tumbling from the sky as flying.

Or maybe Linda's just projecting.

Kara looks confused; apparently a Kryptonian education doesn't set you up to appreciate human ideas of art.

"It's you?" Kara asks, frowning uncertainly at the painted woman's half-defined features.

Linda shrugs. "I guess so," she says. "Or it's you."

Kara taps the year scrawled under the artist's signature. "It can't be," she points out. "I hadn't arrived on this planet, yet."

That doesn't matter, Linda knows. The picture is both of them, and it's neither of them. It's the woman at the gallery's information desk with the sterling silver 'S' hanging from her necklace. It's the two little girls running past the entrance, jackets stretched behind them to catch the wind.

Kara calls herself Supergirl because her cousin calls himself Superman, but she hasn't yet figured out that Supergirl has to be both a person and an idea.

"You're probably right," Linda says. She feels tired; the Many Faces of Supergirl exhibit sounded interesting, but it's nothing but society's collective expectations of what Supergirl is supposed to be, distilled into 2000 square feet. Linda had enough of that when she was still claiming the title.

Kara turns her bemused frown onto a sculpture displayed beside the painting. A base of tiny women struggle to hold up a level of slightly larger women, who lift a level of even larger women, until the single woman at the top of the pile is life-sized and smiling. It's a cheerleader's pyramid in extreme perspective, and regarding Kara as an individual, absolutely irrelevant.

Linda taps her on the shoulder. "You know the best part of the Metropolis Museum?" she asks. Kara begins to shake her head, and Linda says, "The ice cream counter on the other side of the gift shop."

"They have bubblegum?" Kara says.


And Kara grins at her, blue eyes shining and one cheek dimpling just slightly, blonde hair catching the light and spinning it into something golden. She looks satisfied the universe is a fundamentally good place: see as proof the existence of bubblegum ice cream. And maybe there's one thing in the room Linda will listen to about who Supergirl gets to be.


odditycollector: Supergirl hovering in black silhouette except for the red crest. Cape fluttering. Background is a roiling, raining sky. (Default)

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