manorsuperman: (the name)
[ooc: Also a [livejournal.com profile] charloft drabble, Incarcerated!Lana for [livejournal.com profile] likely_evil. Not binding to any muse, just fun AU goodness or so I hope.]

Lana took a sip of her coffee as she stared at what she knew was a two way mirror. Lex Luthor was dead and she was the prime suspect. The turn of the door nob caught her attention, and she watched as the tall black man swaggered into the room.

"Lana Luthor." He nodded to himself. "Guess you took the mentality along with the name."

"I didn't kill my husband, Agent Henriksen. Look at me. Do you really think I could manage something like that?"

"No, not alone." A folder hit the desk, Sam's Little Rock mugshot on the top of the pile. "I think your psycho demon-chasing boyfriend gave you a little help."

"Lex had plenty of enemies. Neither of us had anything to do with it."

Henriksen rested his knuckles on the desk and leaned forward. "If you didn't kill him, Lana, then tell me, what were you doing at the time of the murder?"

Lana leaned forward calmly, mirroring him, not at all intimidated. "Sam."

"Excuse me?"

She gave him a small grin. "I was doing Sam."

He looked at her in disbelief. "You're using sex as an alibi?"

She shrugged. "It's the truth." Her head tilted a little. "Tell me, Agent Henriksen, how did I manage to kill the great Lex Luthor when I was pinned to the bed of a hotel room? You've seen Sam. He's huge." She raised her eyebrows. "And I do mean huge."

He looked at her for a moment before pushing himself back up to a standing position. "You're as bad as Dean, you know that?"

Her grin grew into a smile. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Lana didn't usually speak so bluntly about her sex life, but Henriksen's reaction was well worth it.
manorsuperman: (Default)
"...wait, what?"

Normally, Lana could understand just about anything or anyone. She had developed what she believed to be a good level of objectivity over the years, as well as exceptional listening skills. She liked to think her intuition was better now than it had been in the past, that she could look beyond the actual words and see what was lurking underneath. Vocabulary wasn't a problem, at least not when it came to English, and she could follow along with most scientific or philosophical conversations without issue.

But for the life of her, she couldn't understand what in the world was coming out of this little boy's mouth. It all seemed to run together while at the same time didn't sound connected at all.

"Okay, sweetie, just one more time, I promise."

If she didn't understand it the third time through, she would just smile and nod and tell him how adorable he was. It was all she could do.
manorsuperman: (always a lady)
I'm a little late with this, but I've had internet issues. (And crossposting to a few journals, so sorry if I flood your page.)

Types and who I drabble )

POST @ CHARLOFT
manorsuperman: (wonderful sarcasm)
A kissing booth. Not exactly her idea of a fundraiser, but it was something the kids were wanted to do, so she went with it. All were willing, all were legal (or close enough), and they seemed like they were having a lot of fun...

Part of her still felt so wrong about it, though. It's not prostitution, no, but she still felt like a pimp.

"Lana!"

She turned to see her assistant, smiling from ear to ear. "Having fun, Margret?"

"Margie," she said, only slightly annoyed. "Why can't you just call me Margie like everyone else?"

"Sorry. Habit. And you didn't answer my question."

"I waaas...and now, it's your turn." The cheeky brunette took hold of her employer's arm and tried to pull her toward the booth she had formally occupied.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Lana wasn't letting herself be lead. "I agreed to let you put this on, but I never said I'd participate!"

"Aw, come on, Lana!" Margie pleaded. "It would be good! Everyone wants to kiss the manager of ISIS! Plus, you need to set an example for all of us."

"A better example would have been to scrap this idea in the first place."

Margie gave her a look, one she couldn't have gotten away with a few months later.

Lana was starting to fold under the pressure. "Can't you just illusion yourself into me?"

"You're right here!"

"I could hide."

"Lana...come on." Her face was more serious now. "Do it for me, and all the people like me that we still have to help."

Lana sighed, knowing there was no way to argue with that. No way she could think of, anyway.

She made her way to the booth, and greeted yet another of her clients turned employee.

"David."

He patted her shoulder and gave her a soft grin. "Lighten up, boss. It's for a good cause."

She just sighed again. "Hypocrisy, thy name is Lana."

[ooc: Kisses are $5, as many as you want, as long as you can pay. Though if you're a jerk, expect Lana to punch you in the face. Money raised so far: $25]
manorsuperman: (single eye)
Hi! How are YOU doing.

Let us know how you're doing right here, right now. You have one song, so make it count, k? :)


Song and lyrics )
manorsuperman: (broken dreams)
Today's prompt is a survey about gender roles and character sexuality.
Answer as many or as few of the questions as you like.


The questions )
manorsuperman: (black and white hot)
[ooc: This is not marked with a point in canon, because it's unclear how far ahead in the future the AU timeline of Apocalypse is and there's no way of knowing when Lana would go to Paris and meet her husband, Pierre Rousseau. So I've left it kinda open.]

Lana was alone at the home of her Aunt Nell and Uncle Dean, taking a break from Met U. The semester had just started and already she was starting to feel overwhelmed. Maybe it was because she was anxious to be done with college already and make the move to Paris. She told herself it wouldn't be much longer, to just hang in there, but it didn't seem to make anything easier. She was just thankful for this time alone.

Or she would be, if someone wasn't knocking on the door just as she was preparing to make herself a pot of coffee.

> Who is at the door?
>>> Jimmy Olsen with a confused look on his face.
>>> Pete Ross with a single rose.
>>> Lois Lane in jeans and a low cut top.
>>> Nell. She forgot something.
>>> Sam and Dean Winchester, complete with suits and fake badges.

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manorsuperman: (Default)
Lana Lang

April 2016

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