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owl-with-a-pen · 4 months

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Brainy had noted a change in Zor-El’s demeanour from the moment he’d first dispelled his image inducer.

There had been an intensity about him ever since they’d been paired together to create the virus intended to stop Oscar. At the time, Brainy had simply elected to ignore it. Adjusting to Earth had not been easy for him, after all, and Zor-El had clearly been haunted by phantoms of his own past—those that did not take the shape of something that could be so easily conquered.

Brainy hadn’t pressed. It was an… uncomfortable topic for a great many reasons. Reasons he, too, had chosen to overlook. Besides, their most pressing task had taken his full attention… barring – of course - a tiny, negligible… mere handful, of thought tracks that could have potentially mulled things over if given the opportunity. But there was none. Of course, there was none.

Obviously.

It wasn’t until they were alone together on the Legion ship that Brainy allowed himself to re-open those specific thought tracks, skirting over them in finer detail as he simultaneously marked out the co-ordinates for Argo City with a superfluous flick of his right hand.

The ship had been silent since their departure from Earth’s atmosphere, a soft purr from the engines acting as the only sign of life.

Brainy was no stranger to long silences, especially on journeys where he found himself far removed from the goings on of the rest of his crew, far too immersed in his own work. Now, though? Well, the removal of his inhibitors often left him restless, encouraging him to fill every space with a thought or calculation to occupy his time. His mind ran faster than it ever had before, so much that slowing it down to a purely biological mindset was oftentimes inconceivable, especially if he’d worked himself up.

Had he done so now? Perhaps the mere idea of this journey had triggered something in him, because suddenly all those thoughts had nowhere left to hide.

Brainy twisted his ring mindlessly around his finger, pinching skin, digging into the indentations with his thumbnail. When that proved an insufficient distraction, he leant forward in his chair, sending himself on fruitless ventures around the circumference of the navigation room. His legs kicked empty air as his mind continued to whirr, thinking – no – fearing that his theory may have been correct.

Running out of relevant physical and mental stimulus to occupy his time, he admitted something of defeat by leaping from his chair, heading instead in the direction that he had last seen Zor-El before he had conveniently wandered off.

He hadn’t gotten far. In fact, he was stood in the adjacent hallway, staring out through the ceiling to floor windows that ran in a curved slope down the left-hand side of the wall.

Outside, the world was still, the darkness of space only interrupted by sparse flecks of microscopic balls of light, glowing from a lifetime away. It was impossible to tell what Zor-El was thinking in that moment, although Brainy considered it might have been hope for what was to come; to see his home again – if only in part.

But something cold had settled in Brainy’s stomach from the moment he’d stepped through the arch, and he felt a question rise suddenly on his tongue. And so, it was with a wary curiosity that Brainy wandered the hallway to join Zor-El, his hands folded tightly to the base of his spine.

He swallowed down the urge to ask and cleared his throat, electing instead to tell. “We should reach Argo in the next four hours, twenty-five minutes, sixteen—twelve—seconds,” Brainy said, flinching at his own miscalculation. He had failed to account for the seconds that had passed in the time it had taken him to deliver said information. A schoolboy’s error, one that he did not make lightly. After all, the difference between a few seconds could often mean life or death.

Life or death. It certainly felt that way now, waiting on Zor-El’s response. The arm on Brainy’s internal clock couldn’t have ticked slower if it had tried.

Eventually, Zor-El lowered his head, blinking away decades-worth of reverie. He failed to meet Brainy’s eye. “Very well.”

The question was back again, nagging on the tip of his tongue. Brainy scratched awkwardly at his collar, drawing forward a little impulsively. “Have I… done something to offend?”

He had assumed the answer long before this conversation, and yet Brainy still felt a sinking in his stomach when Zor-El drew to his full height, easing his shoulders back as he continued to regard the emptiness ahead of him. “My wife and I always taught our daughter to see the best in people,” he spoke calmly, his dark eyes tracking the stars one by one, “only I never realised that those teachings might one day extend to one of your—kind.”

Zor-El’s gaze moved suddenly, no longer capturing the world outside, but rather holding firm on the one reflection cast against the glass. Of Brainy’s ghostly silhouette, the glow of his projectors a subdued brilliance in the simulated dusk of the ship’s dimly lit hall.

“Ah,” Brainy said tightly. His mouth was suddenly very dry. He swallowed hard, clenching his hands behind his back. “I had suspected.”

“And so you admit it!” Zor-El said immediately, spinning suddenly to face him. His expression was a mask of perfect fury. Staunch and unyielding. “I recognised those markings on your uniform the moment I awoke from that hell.” He laughed colourlessly. “And that moniker they call you, as though your heritage is nothing but a fallacy. Now, you show your true colours hidden behind that image modifier of yours, parading yourself about so bluntly, as if you have no shame.” His lips twitched dangerously. “But I know you.”

For a moment, all Brainy wanted was to dare the words right out of Zor-El’s mouth, but he didn’t get the chance. Zor-El was far too quick.

“You are one of them. A Brainiac.”

“Brainiac-5,” Brainy corrected lightly, holding firm in his stance. “You may call me Querl, if that’s—”

“I may call you nothing!” Zor-El spat. “You are an enemy to our people. Have you told my daughter what you did?”

“What my ancestor did.” Brainy bristled, biting down hard on his tongue to keep from speaking out of turn. Still, his anger stirred deep inside, restless in its pursuit to freedom. Brainy refused it. It felt as though he had been refusing it for far too long. Instead, he said, “I have told her what he was responsible for. I have told them all.”

Zor-El made a derisive sound. “He. Is that how you worded it, is that why she has forgiven you so easily?”

“I am not responsible for my ancestor’s actions. I have done nothing but strive—”

“Is that so?” Zor-El spoke over him. “Then answer me this, Brainiac, are you not bound to the minds of your clan? Do you not hear their voices as though they were your own?”

Brainy flinched, his lips thinning into a tasteless smile. His anger somersaulted into something more indulgent, veering towards petulance. He folded his arms. “I would ask how you know this,” Brainy said levelly, cocking his head, “only I know the answer already. For, Kara told me what you used my people for on Krypton.”

Zor-El’s eyes were as dark as coals. He shrugged, running a hand across his jaw. As though it made no difference at all. “Yes, we worked with the Coluans.”

“They worked for you,” Brainy corrected. “You used my people, outfitted them for your own means all in the name of making your planet greater.” He barked out a sarcastic laugh, gesturing to himself with a flourish. “Just as I performed today. Did I not save your so-called invention from destroying Earth?”

“My only error was to trust in Coluan technology in the first place,” Zor-El said coldly, raising his chin. “But I suspect you know just how temperamental it can be. Brainiac-8 is also your relation, is she not?”

Brainy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see how that is relevant.”

“No, you don’t,” Zor-El cried. “Because that would mean admitting fault. You say you oh-so heroically saved this planet today, then I say it is the least you could have done after the abduction of Kandor, of the havoc that was subsequently wreaked on Krypton’s core, of everything the Brainiacs have destroyed!”

Brainy ran his tongue over his front teeth, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Okay, okay, I see where this is going,” he said, sinking back into a more languid stance. “My ancestor’s sins were abominable, I make no argument for him, but just hours ago it was you that was admitting fault for Krypton’s destruction. It is only logical you would wish to divert that blame elsewhere now that you are mere hours from what remains of your home, from your wife. So that you may lessen your own guilt.”

Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say, but Brainy no longer cared for tact. His anger was agitating again, spitting and swirling inside his stomach, and no amount of breathing exercises or Dolly Parton was about to take that away.

Zor-El’s eyes were wide. “You dare speak to me in this way?”

“Look at where you are, Zor-El,” Brainy said. “The ship in which you stand. Your fight isn’t with me. Stand down and we continue to Argo, to your people and your wife. Persist and I will gladly divert our course back to Earth so that another of my friends may make this journey with you.” He quirked a brow. “And believe me when I say that turning this ship around would take just a fraction of my mental capabilities.” He waved a hand towards the console in the room over with more aggression than was needed, clenching his fist. At the same time, their current course flashed across the screen, pasting itself as a 3D image above the control panel.

Zor-El offered it one scathing look before huffing his disapproval, turning back towards the window. “Typical Coluan egotism,” he muttered.

“Typical Kryptonian pig-headedness,” Brainy shot back, enjoying the way Zor-El’s shoulders drew together at the insult.

Neither one of them spoke a word after that, though Brainy suspected the rest of their journey together would not be a pleasant experience.

---------

They landed in a quiet pasture on the outskirts of the city, just before sundown. The tallest points of Argo’s developing structures were barely visible from their vantage, smothered by a dense treeline.

Only one person stood to greet them. Brainy recognised her the moment they stepped outside, for she shared the same kind smile as her daughter’s.

Alura Zor-El swept her husband into her arms the second he stumbled into the grass, no longer guided by the light-footedness he’d found so easily beneath a yellow sun. Brainy deftly averted his gaze when the two embraced, not wishing to encroach on the moment. No matter how tense their trip here had become, Zor-El deserved this moment of reunion with his wife. With everything he’d lost.

Besides, rage was not new to Brainy’s systems by now, and with the last few hours of silence to help gather his thoughts, he’d been able to put much of his anger aside in favour of a more optimistic outlook.

One that reminded him that he would be making the return trip alone. Indeed, soon he would be putting a sizeable distance between himself and all the contempt that Zor-El held for him.

It was only when Brainy heard Alura’s sharp intake of breath that he tuned back into the here and now.

She was no longer in the arms of her husband but had rather taken a step forward before falling quite still, studying Brainy with meticulous curiosity. She folded her hands in front of her, reviewing at first his hair, then his face, then the dot formation across his chest.

Brainy’s stomach clenched the further her eyes travelled. A part of him wished he’d activated his image inducer again before leaving the ship. Maybe that would have made things easier.

When Alura took another step forward, Brainy braced himself for the worst, stiffening when her eyes widened in surprise.

“You—” she said, and for one awful moment Brainy felt sure that she might strike him. Flashes of a familial sneer caught in his memory banks, and as Alura drew closer, he suddenly couldn’t tell her face apart from the mother that haunted his own childhood. It felt harder to hold his own against her, somehow, and he had to fight his every instinct not to retreat.

Instead, he was faced with the most curious of attacks. One that came in the form of a hug.

Flummoxed, Brainy held still in Alura’s embrace, not daring to breathe again until she’d released him. When she did, her brow furrowed, recognising his bewilderment.

“It is you, isn’t it?” she asked, suddenly uncertain of herself. “Brainy, of the Legion?”

Wordlessly, Brainy nodded. He could feel Zor-El’s eyes on him, but didn’t dare turn from Alura.

Alura’s face crumpled into a relieved smile. She bowed her head into a formal greeting. “I had hoped that we might one day meet,” she admitted. “There are many here who have wished the same. To meet you—to thank you.”

Now, Brainy was truly at a loss. “Thank me?” he repeated flatly.

“Thank him?” Zor-El echoed, equally dumbfounded.

“But of course,” Alura said, scooping Brainy’s hands suddenly into her own. Her eyes were bright. “Some years ago now, I was reunited with my daughter. She came with a friend – Mon-El of the Legion. He brought with him a piece of technology, your invention, one that helped eradicate Thalonite Lung completely from our community, as well as many other childhood ailments. So much of our medical history was lost on Krypton, but your invention filled in many of the gaps in our knowledge. It saved our children, our future.” Alura kissed him suddenly on the cheek, squeezing his hands. “You have my gratitude. You have Argo’s gratitude.”

For the first time in a long time, Brainy’s mind drew a total, unnerving blank. He stared at Alura uncomprehendingly, clearing his throat with more force than was necessary. “I—uh—I mean – you’re—you are very welcome.”

Alura chuckled, patting his knuckles gently. “This was not the welcome you had anticipated, was it?”

Brainy’s face fell. “Not at all,” he admitted, earning another laugh from Kara’s mother. “I—I suspect that you too know of my family’s history.”

Alura’s expression changed then. A profound sadness swept through her eyes. Sympathy, not scorn. “Yes,” she said, nodding slowly. “But… we do not choose our families. When I sent my daughter away, I only hoped that she would find safety on Earth, find a family, and I was fortunate that my prayers were answered. Not all of us are as lucky.” She smiled kindly. “We choose our paths, and from what Kara has told me, the path you have chosen is a noble one. So, Argo welcomes you, Brainiac-5.”

“This is all true?” Zor-El asked into the silence that Brainy left. He’d made an attempt at moving closer since his wife had begun to speak, a waver of distrust still evident in his dark eyes.

Alura paid it no mind, turning to take Zor-El’s face in her hands. “Oh, my dear husband. Every word.”

A pained look pulled Zor-El’s brow taut, and for a moment he said nothing at all. Eventually, he took his wife’s hand with a tenderness that spoke the years they’d been apart, holding her fingers there against his cheek, as though afraid of what might happen if he let go.

Brainy knew that feeling all too well. His heart ached to recall his own forced separation from Nia, how ardently he’d held onto her when the dust had settled after all the mistakes he’d made. He imagined now how her eyes would have lit up seeing another world like Argo, how different this experience might have been had she been at his side.

But perhaps this discomfort had been necessary, because when Zor-El finally turned to face Brainy, there was no more hatred left to greet him.

Instead, he said, “I believe I owe you an apology, Querl Dox.”

Brainy’s lips twitched. “And I you.” He shrugged. “I could have—handled your scorn better.”

Zor-El laughed. “You handled it well,” he assured him. “I-I admit that I have not been the easiest to deal with since my return from the Phantom Zone. My guilt—it was unfair to make that your burden. You have proven who you are over and over in the short time I have been reunited with my daughter; I just let my pig headedness get in the way of seeing that.”

“I am certain my Coluan ego did not help matters.” Brainy smirked. “But… I forgive you.”

Alura glanced between them both, a smile of her own playing on her lips. “I imagine the trip here was quite tense?”

Brainy and Zor-El both laughed at that. “You could say that,” Zor-El said.

Alura rolled her eyes, beckoning them towards the woods. “Come, then, both of you, before it gets too dark. Let me show you around.”

Lulled by this new serenity in his emotional state, Brainy nearly followed after her. He stopped himself short, clenching his hands reluctantly. “I—I must be returning to Earth. The Super Friends—”

Alura cut him off, swooping in to take his arm. “And you will. But please, Querl, allow me this opportunity? As I say, many of the people here have wanted to thank you.”

Brainy realised he could not deny her. Perhaps he didn’t want to. The invention he had created had been for the betterment of all society, and while he had never envisioned it landing a thousand years in the past, helping the remnant of a planet thought to be destroyed in the fallout of his own ancestor’s attack, he supposed it was somewhat fitting.

He may not have been responsible for Krypton’s destruction, but if he was able to do something to help the people who had suffered because of it, then there was absolutely no question. He was grateful Mon-El had been able to use it here, and it warmed Brainy’s heart to know that he had shared stories of the Legion with the people of Argo City while he had been there. Enough that, perhaps, the name Brainiac might instil something other than fear in the hearts of the children who ran free here. Healthy… because of him.

And so, Briany nodded. “A few hours, then,” he agreed.

Alura’s smile widened. “Excellent!”

With that, Brainy fell into step with Zor-El and, together, they let Alura guide them home.

#supergirl #supergirl fanfiction #brainiac 5 #zor-el #alura zor-el #brainia #querl dox #brainy #my writing #i've wanted to write a scene like this for a reallllllly long time #and i started writing the dialogue as of season 3 of my supergirl rewatch and then finished it as of season 6 #and this is the result of that. my purely self indulgent fic on conversations i wish had happened in the show #still kills me that we didn't get to see any tension between zor-el and brainy in the actual show. there was such an OPPORTUNITY.#wasted. utterly wasted. so obviously i had to write this.

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rollercoasterwords · 10 months

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hi! thank you for the kind words, i'm happy you're enjoying the fic. but i also want to use this message as an opportunity to talk about something/set a boundary that i haven't really known how to discuss, and i've blocked out your name because even though i'm not angry or upset with you, i want to make sure i'm not sending any hate back your way.

i know that this message is well-intentioned, and i know you likely think it's nothing but a compliment to ask me to write more--after all, you're only asking me to write more because you enjoy the story so much! shouldn't that be a nice thing for me to hear?

and like. i think that's why this is difficult for me to talk about. i don't want to come across as ungrateful or overly sensitive or like i don't appreciate the compliments, because i do. but at the same time, hearing someone say, "please write more of this fic for me, i love your writing so much!" is still hearing someone say "please write more of this fic for me!" like. 300,000 words is incredibly long. most novels are between 70k-100k words. a 300k word book usually takes years to write--years, and hundreds of hours of labor. maybe you chose that number randomly, or you're exaggerating for emphasis; but no matter how nicely you're phrasing it or how facetious you're being, ultimately this sort of message still puts pressure on me to produce a massive amount of writing in a short period of time. and even if you meant it as a compliment, it doesn't feel nice to me. being pressured to churn out hundreds of thousands of words makes me feel as though i'm being seen as a content-creation machine for the entertainment of others, and i don't like that. writing is a labor of love for me, but it is still labor--hours of time and effort that i'm putting into these works which i share for free, with no expectations of anything in return except maybe a few kind words from those who feel like reaching out. when i get messages or comments like this pushing me to write more, to write faster, it makes me feel as though my time and labor are not respected at all; as if there's absolutely no consideration for the amount of effort it takes to write the stories. which, again, makes me feel like i'm being viewed as some sort of fic-writing machine that can just pump out hundreds of thousands of words on demand for others' entertainment.

and none of this is helped by the tongue-in-cheek comment about how you're "suffering" waiting for updates. again, i understand that this was well-intended and maybe even a playful exaggeration that's supposed to be complimentary. but there are ways to tell me you enjoy my writing and eagerly wait for updates without telling me how much you dislike waiting between chapters. posting once a week is already a difficult schedule for me to maintain, and it's entirely possible that i'll need to take another break in the future or skip a week or something. i've been very clear about the fact that my update schedule is subject to change since i started writing the fic; that's just part of reading a wip. but when i get messages or comments like these with people telling me how they don't like waiting for updates, or comments directly asking me to post more than once a week, or--back when i did take a break--comments begging me not to take a break, it all adds together and builds up and creates this pressure to write more, write faster, post the new ch now now now. if you were the only person making this type of comment, it probably wouldn't bother me and i'd just respond and go "thanks lol" and move on. but the problem is that you aren't the only one--since more people have started reading the fic, i've consistently been getting comments like these, where the backhanded pressure to write more or write faster is couched in compliments. it's just so hard to wait for updates because i love your writing so much! i just want you to write more and post now and write faster because i love your writing so much! i know it's all well-intended, but none of it makes me feel good. it just makes me feel a mounting pressure to produce produce produce.

i feel like there are so many conversations happening in this fandom about how we need to treat writers better, where people go "the fandom is so shitty" and everyone goes "yeah!" but no one ever thinks they're part of the problem. and i think it's because everyone thinks the problem is like...really blatantly rude and entitled messages. and like, i get those too--people telling me they don't like a certain characterization and asking me to rewrite the fic; people repeatedly demanding that i write a certain fic for them; people just outright shitting on things i've written because they don't like it and for some reason think i want to know that. but none of that is super common. what is super common is the steady stream of comments and messages like this one, where they are so well-intended and don't see anything wrong with what they're saying because they think they're giving me a compliment. but all these "compliments" build up and create this pressure that hangs over my head to be constantly producing and writing, which is ultimately what leads to burnout and also makes me feel like i'm not being seen as a person so much as a machine.

so like. idk. i'm not gonna try to speak for every writer in the fandom; maybe there are people out there who do appreciate this kind of message, who feel like it motivates them to write. but for me, i want to make it clear: i really don't appreciate being asked to write more or write faster or to write a certain trope/ship/etc; i am not a waiter taking your order at a restaurant. writing fic is not a service i'm providing for you that you pay me for in comments or kudos or messages or any sort of attention, because i am not writing for that attention in the first place. so when it comes to interacting with me, i'd ask that you reevaluate the way you give compliments and think about what sort of pressure you're putting on me, regardless of how well-intentioned your message is. again, no hard feelings towards you--like i said, this message probably wouldn't even register as pressuring to me if not for the fact that i get so many little comments like it, all from equally well-intentioned people who think they're just giving a compliment, all of which builds up together.

anyway. all that being said. to answer your question: the fic will likely be four parts, not three as i originally intended. it will probably end up somewhere between 100-200k words based on the fact that we're already at 80k and i've only just started part iii, but i am not going to put pressure on myself to write a certain amount of words or hit a certain length. i'm just going to write what i want to write when i want to write, and share it as i want to share it. i'm happy to have you along if you want to be here, but if the cliffhangers or waiting for updates becomes too unenjoyable for you then there's no pressure for you to stay, yknow? no hard feelings on my end either way :•)

#have been talking w a few friends abt this recently and just. felt like it was getting to a point where i need 2 set a boundary lol #like again don't want to come across as ungrateful bc i DO appreciate the kind words and i love talking abt my writing w people #but those kind words and conversation are not the reason i write in the first place. i write in the first place purely for the fun + joy #of writing a story that i want to read #so as much as i appreciate the compliments etc #people being nice to me about my writing does not then entitle those people to make requests or demands about the way i write #yknow?#feel like its hard to phrase this without sounding cunty lol but like. it is simply the truth #anyway. like i said no hard feelings towards the person who sent this message truly #i just picked this as an opportunity to respond to allll the comments + messages like it #might put a note at the end of the next ch or something bc this type of thing happens in the comments moreso than tumblr messages #which is part of why i usually just ignore and move on but. it builds up guys #and it's only been increasing so. feel like i need to be firm abt setting expectations etc #ask #wfrau #ranting and raving

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04tenno · 1 year

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Mine is in the circle of hell where every demon is female and they keep hitting on him

Also as for your own personal thoughts, do you think Daigo could have been into Mine?

I mean... maybe because I'm bi, but sounds preferable to burning in hell for "quintillions of years" as described lol

And I've talked about it a few times (though I guess I've never compiled it all in one place), but personally I think it all makes less sense if Daigo isn't into Mine. Take, for example, Mine's original character story. From start to finish, while Mine's agonizing over initiating a friendship, Daigo's the one who's "making moves."

He's inviting Mine out to a bar (one that's intimate and out-of-the-way, located in the Champion District—where, As I'm Always Saying, the LGBT-friendly establishments we're aware of are clustered—with a bartender he's comfortable confiding in). He's asking if Mine's currently seeing anyone, taking care not to gender a potential partner. He's leaving the area where all the nightlife is to take Mine to the hotel district and tell him he "wants some action."

And he's clearly thrown off when Mine doesn't catch on to what he means. Like, I fully believe Daigo was intending to propose a sexual encounter of some kind—maybe going their separate ways, maybe arranging a threesome or foursome with some ladies, maybe a one-on-one with Mine, who knows—and ditch Mine at the hotel.

Then there is, of course, the reserve bottle. Now, I can't speak from experience, but I'm told it's exceedingly unusual to reserve a bottle (particularly an expensive one) for a "friend." And that's sort of corroborated by the story Kashiwagi tells in Yakuza: Like a Dragon.

Like, it's in how they look at each other on the rooftop. It's in how Daigo is willing to lay down his life for Mine without a second thought and always has been, even before Mine felt the same about Daigo. It's in how, despite the fandom's incessant "yandere" characterization of Mine, Daigo is just as willing to kill to protect him.

They have one of the most special bonds in the series to me. They're best friends, and Mine is undoubtedly Daigo's closest confidant; of course, it helps that Mine takes no shit, much like Kashiwagi, but I think it would've been invaluable for Daigo to have someone like that his own age. And Daigo's got nothing but praise for Mine except his misgivings that the seems too guarded around him, but then again, he's not going to force Mine to open up before he's ready.

In a series that's all about beating your own ideals into the other person, it's wonderful to see two people who genuinely like each other and are able to make themselves clear with words and actions alone. When it comes to the thoughts they allow to come to the surface, at least. I think Daigo has to be into Mine, but I also think Mine's too dense to realize it. Perhaps vice-versa, too.

That all ties back into what I was saying about the reserve bottle. I can't help see it as perfectly symbolic of their mutual attraction. Never acting, waiting for "the right time" until it's too late, but holding it close to their hearts even when the moment has passed. And then all that's left to do is preserve the memory.

But, you know, that's just how I'd like to see it. I can't make any definitive statements (not that I was asked to, but as a wiki editor, I can't suppress the urge). Overall, I'm more inclined to believe it's not purposeful. Like, twooo gay major characters!?!?! That's pushing it...

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