#12thLevelIntellect

@12thlevelintellect

   To Jason, settling into the manor feels like a bit of a fever dream.

   The first few weeks there, he’s not quite the same rowdy brat who tried to steal the tires of Batman’s car and then smacked him with a tire iron, making a run down the alley. His brashness and abrasiveness from Ma Gunn’s home dims down a bit—or rather, takes on a new shape.

   For the Wayne manor is large and it sits behind an iron gate down a driveway that requires a care to navigate, and the windows are grand tall, checkered with panes of glass like a lot of the old homes in Gotham, and the lawn it neatly trimmed, the hedges freshly cut, and the steps leading to the main entrance coalesce in a semi-circle of what might be marble. Jason doesn’t really know the difference between one white rock and another, but it’s always smooth and cool to the touch.

   And his room—his room might be as big as the entire first floor of the apartment his parents had down in the narrows, and it’s his room, logically he knows this, but it doesn’t feel like his room, all dark, cherry wood and a plush window seat for reading and a wall of empty shelves primed to be filled with books. His books. As many books as he wants.

   The most bizarre thing about the manor, aside from the hallways of old-looking paintings and the one wing that’s permanently closed and the piano that doesn’t have a speck of dust on it despite Jason never hearing anyone play is the sheer amount of rooms. There are so many rooms, and so many beds, one might think this manor was housing four families.

   But no. It’s just him. Jason Peter Todd, freshly adopted orphan of Bruce Wayne, multi-billionaire of Gotham, part-time Batman, his wife (who introduces herself as Lex, but Jason notices it switches to Alexandra whenever Bruce is in some mood or another), and the butler, Alfred. Jason thinks it’s kind of weird to have a butler for only three people, but Alfred is kind, and he makes him all sorts of breakfasts because Jason seems to be up at the same odd hours Alfred is and is always hungry—and he encourages Jason to explore the manor.

   Nothing will bite him.

   At least, it shouldn’t.

   It’s how he finds himself up at two in the morning, wandering the corridors that are gently lit with strips of light to beat back the deep, late night darkness.

@12thlevelintellect:

Lex Luthor is not having a particularly good day.

Strike that - Alexandra Hatshepsut Luthor, CEO of a corporate conglomerate twice the size of it’s nearest competitor with her name on it and minted sovereign of Metropolis, is having what even by her standards is a spectacularly bad day. It started with the break down of relations in the meeting with ACE Chemicals this morning, was punctuated by a massive explosion downtown around noon that cleared out several city blocks and which may have possibly been at least partially her own fault for certifying the R&D department to move forward with testing, and it ended with what could charitably be described as an all out screaming match between her and a man she has - against all rhyme or reason - decided both to co-parent with, and to occasionally shoot in the head with whatever extraterrestrial radioactive poison is most readily available. Currently, she’s very drunk, and wishing she’d spent today doing more of the latter and less of the former. Kara’s found her in a slightly compromised position, strung out on the couch in her office, auditioning her self loathing for the angry conversations with Clark still to come.

“At some point,” she says, head resting against the arm of the couch, eyes closed, “you’re going to come to an understanding that it’s really for the better that this is an axis upon which you and I differ. It’ll be useful to you someday, to have someone willing to make the hard choices. Get their hands dirty. It’s too late for your father to figure out how to appreciate me, I’m afraid. But that’s the wonderful thing about being young - you have so much time to find new, creative ways to iterate on the flaws of your parents.”

     It’s not the first time Kara has seen her mom in the aftermath of a fight with Superman and it sure won’t be the last. The man who purports himself to be her family (who is her family, biologically) is the only person in the entire universe who can go toe-to-toe with Lex Luthor and come out unscathed. It’s impressive, actually, seeing as Kara knows her mother better than anyone else. Standing up to Lex when she’s convinced she’s right is a feat of incredible bravery, or incredible stubbornness. Kara would know: she’s done both. But that comes of having her for a mother, and she’s not the type to complain. Her mom has prepared her to take on anything.

     Superman– Pa– on the other hand…  he’s still something of a challenge. He’s been in Kara’s life properly for only a few years and he’s done his best to be there for her despite his differences with her mom. Still, he doesn’t understand the challenges they’ve faced, that they’ll continue to face as Luthors, as women with a legacy to uphold. He may never. She’s made peace with it. After all, she and Lex are the only family they need– her mama’s been telling her that since Kara was first pulled out of that pod. It’s a careful navigation between enjoying with what he likes to call quality time and keeping her loyalties to Lex. Her mama doesn’t begrudge her the relationship, but she sure as hell begrudges her Pa. There’s something else there too, something Kara can’t identify that passes between them every time she’s handed off like a parcel. It’s bothered her for some time.

     “Mama,” she sighs, reaching out to squeeze her hand, “It wasn’t your fault, and he knows that perfectly well. None of the preliminary trials showed volatility that would have caused a detonation, let alone one of that size. Let me go out, see what I can find. It’ll be better to have the data before you start stewing.”

@12thlevelintellect liked for a starter from l e n a:

Lena has always known that it would come to this: the murder of their father, and their own freedom finally assured.  She doesn’t feel like she expected to, though — no joy, no relief even, though there isn’t any guilt either.

She just looks at her sister and feels the absence of tension for the first time in a very long time, as long as she can remember.  Their father is gone, the the vibrating piano wires cut and dropping all three of them to the floor.  She wheels a little closer to Lex.

“I always knew you would win.”

     _{@12thlevelintellect}

     _{“Are you proud of me? Even though I’m a hero like Dad, and I’m not… following in your footsteps?”}

     _{If there was ever a loaded question, it’s this one. She already regrets asking.} 

#lex in the distance: ABDUCT ME

@12thlevelintellect

don’t tempt me.

@12thlevelintellect liked for a starter:

“You know I could’ve gotten out of there without your help,” he tells her, quietly, after they’ve boarded the yacht in the harbor.  “Arkham is practically made of cardboard.  Horrifying, deeply disturbing cardboard.”

Part of him is still grateful, though.  He can’t remain in prison with Superman having come back from the dead.  It’s an unconscionable idea — beyond unbearable.  

“You know, it’s funny —” it isn’t “—but I dreamt about him just last night.”

@12thlevelintellect

_{When you’re good, you’re Good.}

          ^{❝ I DON’T NEED NO MONEY as long as i can feel the beat. i don’t need no money as long as i keep on dancing. ❞     @12thlevelintellect ❤’d. ( cheap thrills–sia )}

          ^{it’s only THE SECOND DAY OF SPRING BREAK but she’s already regretting the idea of having some of her sorority sisters over, everything in the house is somehow interesting      oh they have A POOL TABLE IN THE LIVING ROOM !! that’s so cool. lucky her, all of them are already asleep ( it’s almost 1 am ) and she takes the opportunity to go into the kitchen where her sister is, she gives her A KISS ON THE CHEEK and quickly moves into the refrigerator to grab a greek yogurt. ❝ how rude would it be to tell them to go to their own houses ?? ❞ she asks, genuinely concerned. ❝ like, i know they’re supposed to be staying a whole week but i’m already tired, all i wanna do is stay some time in my room and read until MY BRAIN IS FRIED. ❞   @12thlevelintellect  ❤’d.}

Lex Luthor and Clark Luthor ||| Sent in by meme by @12thlevelintellect

@12thlevelintellect

“Babe, where do you get your nails done? I got Kon a new dress and he said he’d like to have his nails match so I’m thinking of having a spa day.” Steve kissed her cheek before sitting on the sofa near her desk.

“They can just clean my nails up, right? I don’t have to get them long?”

“Mom, it’s fine. I can handle a little bit of gross ignorance now and then.” It warmed her, though, in a way she knew would frighten the Justice League.

But Lex was her mom, and they had this huge thing in common. Lex being on her side for this felt good. It made her feel like so much less of a biological fuckup to know that her mom had her back, even if that mom was also the Queen of Kryptonite.

1. state your name: Jen
2. state the name that your parents almost named you: I have no idea.  I don’t know if there was anything else in the running.
3. which of your relatives do you get along with the most?: I’m closest of all to my family by choice.  Friends, people here.  I tend to be really bad about keeping in touch with people I don’t see every day, so I don’t know if I’m really close to anyone in my family at the moment.  I guess my mom would be the one I’m closest to though.
4. what was your first job?: I used to work as an Office Assistant with my aunt when I was a kid.  She’d “pay” me by taking me to lunch.  Did some random babysitting, but I had a job at a local amusement park as soon as I was old enough to drive.
5. did anything embarrassing happen this week?: this week… I can’t think of anything this week.
6. do you miss your ex?: No.  Being single is awesome.  I miss all the money I spent keeping life running while my last ex was getting established in his career of choice.  And I miss all the time I spent with other exes putting up with bullshit I should have never tolerated, but at least it taught me a lot about how not to stand for shit.  Lately I’ve been contemplating that I may be–if not aromantic, at least someone with a very limited capacity for romance.
7. white chocolate or dark chocolate?: dark
8. do people praise you for your looks?: no
9. what is your favorite color of clothing to wear?: most everything I have is blue.  I like green too and black and grey.
10. how do you wear your makeup?: I generally don’t.  Sometimes I’ll go on a spurt of wearing it for a while, but usually I’m too lazy.  Plus, around here, with the heat and humidity, makeup becomes a pointless endeavor.
11. what are some of your nicknames?: Jeeeeeeeeen, the Lam (so weird to me, but okay)
15. do you have a job?: I do.  I write technical documents, software specifications, manage projects, that sort of thing
16. do you have a car?: I do!  Her name is Fawkes :)
17. do you work out every week?: I go through spurts of being really diligent about this laced with periods of extreme apathy.  Presently I am in a stage of extreme apathy.
18. did you brush your teeth this morning?: Yes!  Brushing teeth is sort of… meditative to me.
19. have you ever kissed someone you never saw again?: Yeah, there was one time forever ago when I was a freshman in college.
20. have you ever sung in front of a crowd?: Well, there was a talent show when I was in middle school where I did an a capella solo of some patriotic song.  Fortunately, my peers were ready, willing, and able to immediately mangle my self esteem over it.
21. what kind of bathing suit do you wear?: Usually a one piece. Usually covered up with something else.  Yay for self esteem.
22. do you like your eyes?: They’re fine I guess.  They don’t see particularly well.  They’re blue, but otherwise pretty unremarkable.  They’re very sensitive to light.  I like them for seeing with, so I guess I’ll keep them.
23. do you think you are pretty?: I’ve heard before in life that I’d be pretty if I weren’t so fat and just put some effort into my appearance.  So, like, I guess the bones of conventionally pleasing aesthetics are there… but buried… like artifacts on an archaeology site.  I think I look fine.
24. who was the last person you talked to in person?: probably a co-worker, but I don’t remember who it was
25. are you single?: Yes.  I’m in a relationship with myself, as I seem to be about the only person I can consistently tolerate being around for extended periods of time.
26. do you want kids?: Never.  Absolutely never.  Like, if a kid showed up on my doorstep, I’d step up to the plate, but I will never seek out having kids.
27. tell me what your back pack looks like: I haven’t had a backpack in… probably at least a decade.  I do have a bag made of fabric printed all over with leopard geckos though, so there’s that

@ioniclantern @12thlevelintellect | RE: ( this tweet )

“For the record, I don’t vape.  My drug of choice, actually, is ecstasy.”

“You really think that I’d be as naive to believe that you and I are the same person, from different worlds? I’ve heard and seen my fair share of the strange and unusual but that’s just absurd.”

starter for @12thlevelintellect

STEVEN!

@12thlevelintellect

listen, you don’t need a penis to titty fuck me. No one said you can’t rub pussy all over these bad boys to get off. Please. I insist we try this. For Science.

Outer space!  (Well, of course!) :D

Space, the final frontier–at least until humanity figured out a little better how time and all the other dimensions worked.  D’rorah was up close and personal with space at the moment.  It was all around her, cradling her in that very hands-off way that it had of dealing with people.

Warning: 30 minutes remaining of Life Support systems

D’rorah sighed and tried to reorient herself so she might look in another direction.  So far, her distress beacon had received no response from Starfleet.  She hung on the edge of Bajoran space, working intently away at the problem of who had sabotaged her shuttle.  She’d spent the past twelve hours out here in a space suit, dodging shuttle debris.

Could it have been the harried engineer she’d seen making his way out of the shuttle bay?  Perhaps Garak had decided to give his irritation with her sturdier legs.  That might give him and Bashir something to discuss over one of their lunches.  Could it have been an angry Bajoran, dissatisfied by the friends she kept since her arrival on the station?

Funny thing that on a station with so few people, it could be so difficult to narrow down a list of potential suspects.

“D’rorah to DS9.  D’rorah to Sisko.  Anyone in the vicinity of two-seven-six-zero-eight-three-mark-one-two-nine, this is Commander D’rorah Philosophy.  I am a Starfleet medical doctor in need of assistance.”

No response, just more empty space.

Warning: 15 minutes remaining of Life Support systems

She began to wonder whether she was going to have to make her own way back to the station.  It would be easier if someone, anyone would happen by.  She needed a plausible story for her return.  Just showing up and letting herself back onto the station would raise too many questions.  First and foremost–what had happened to her shuttle.

Warning: 5 minutes remaining of Life Support systems

Resigned, D’rorah lay back–or at least, relaxed into her directionless sea of nothingness–and began quietly reciting verb conjugations to herself to pass the time.

shevathegun replied to your post “"Oh no, you’re not really wearing /that,/ are you?“”

Clark, there’s dressing on a budget and then there’s dressing like the junkyard challenge from Project Runway. Did you *buy* all the flannel in Goodwill, or did you just go to a textile factory and tell them you were accepting donations?

@12thlevelintellect. / @shevathegun.

“ This is why people just don’t like you, and for the record ——flannel is always in style. I happen to own a fine collection of it, to which I am unashamed. I’m so sorry my Kansas cultured farm shirt clashes with your mainstream asshole pumps, Lex.”

Moonlight was a rare commodity for a Starfleet officer stationed on DS9.  When the station came within visual range of Bajor’s moon, the planet blocked any reflection from the sun.  For obvious environmental control reasons, they stayed behind the planet in relation to the system’s sun.  It was quite dim, compared to life on a planet’s surface.

D'rorah took advantage of the trip to Cardassia to enjoy the moon for the first time in months.  She was sure the other officers would remain inside, in the cool air, leaving her to enjoy the night in peace.  Unaffected by temperature herself, she spread out upon a large, flat stone, face upturned to the sky for a moment of quiet reflection.  Moonlight caressed pale features, kissing them with light.  Her own pale luminescence was softly magnified by relaxation and moonlight.

It was the sound of someone approaching that disrupted D'rorah’s reverie.  She carefully pulled herself back into check and sat up.  Grey eyes fell upon dark skin limned in silver light.  Lex was, for once, without her entourage of android protection.  D'rorah spared a moment to appreciate the broad swoop of her shoulders, finely tapered eyebrows framing keen green eyes that saw so much and hungered for still more.

She should have known Lex would be one of the few willing to venture out into the sweltering summer evening.  Perhaps part of her had.  There were many intriguing things about her, and there were times D'rorah’s curiosity was stronger than her good sense.

“Ms. Luthor.  No doubt you have come to escape the unending political pleasantries and saccharine niceties of my Starfleet brethren for the space of an evening.

“I sometimes wonder why you mislike us so… but then, here I am, escaping as well.”

@12thlevelintellect

@12thlevelintellect

“This is absolutely unacceptable!” A hard and completely offended voice rang out in the airlock.

Gul Dukat looked up from the PADD that he was handed by one of the customs officers, it was the standard checklist that all the incoming traffic to Deep Space nine was required to go through during the decontamination and inspection before being allowed to enter. Dukat had done this enough to be used to it, however, his ‘honored passenger’ Ambassador Tuvem Lidak, of Cardassia V, was not.

The woman folded her arms and all but growled at the inspections officer that was walking away from her, pulling herself up higher in indignation and intimidation. Dukat couldn’t help but appreciate the scene. The Ambassador little little else but complain and make demands the entire trip to Deep Space Nine. It was so… refreshing to see her getting all worked up over a customs check.

“We have been in this airlock for over an hour!” Ambassador Lidak hissed, throwing her hands up in animated disgust and catching the smile on Dukat’s face just before he could drop it. She was on him in an instant.

“You find this amusing Gul Dukat?” She said, pushing into his space.

Dukat only grinned more openly at her anger.

“Nearly unbearably so, Ambassador.” He said, then he added in false sincerity. “If you will remember, I did tell you that customs would take a while and you would be wise to bring something to occupy yourself.”

He held out the PADD: “Some reading material, perhaps?”

Lidak let out another growl and brushed his hand away, pointing at the Gul’s chest.

“You have connections here. I know you do. You will fix this.”

Dukat raised his brow ridges innocently. “All travelers have to pass inspection, Ambassador. It is a matter of safety.”

“When then, as a matter of safety…” Lidak said, hissing lowly. “I suggest you do something.”

It was a threat, and Dukat was almost tempted to let her try whatever she was plotting. But, if he did, he was certain that it would prevent him from seeing his very dear friend even longer then it had been already.

Gul Dukat sighed like she had convinced him. “Alright Ambassador, I will see if I can raise someone on the comms.”

“You do a great service.” Lidak said, stepping away from him and allowing him to go to the console.

He took his time typing in the connection code before finally hitting send, send out an open call into the channel.

“Hello again, Miss Luthor. This is Gul Dukat of the Cardassian Union.” He said with a professional air that didn’t reach his smile. “I do hope that I can trouble you for a moment of your time.”