#I just want a fic where Clark is sobbing because of his senses for some reason

[frownyalfred]

Bruce is Clark’s “my senses/powers are going insane right now, please cover for me” person and no one in the Justice League has ever fully caught on because Bruce (as Batman) will just suddenly start picking a fight with Hal Jordan (who is always down to argue) and distract the entire League long enough for Clark to either leave or get a handle on whatever is bugging him.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

hello - do you have any dick grayson-centric fic recs?

do i-do i have any dick grayson centric fic recs?? oh babe you have come to the riGHT PLACE. as any of my mutuals could tell you, i have so many goddamn fic recs it’s not even funny anymore. here are some of my personal top favourites:

1. And The World Came Crashing Down by @zhe-angst-diary  ~5k. a fic centered around dick’s self-sacrificial tendencies, especially for the batfam. a bit angsty, very much feels, a tad ooc, but i really did love it

2. bad signal by @prismatic-et-al 38k. the plotfic to end all plotfics. this author is one of the most brilliant dc fic authors i have ever come across, and the way they weave this dark, mysterious story is nothing short of ingenious. i was on the edge of my seat the entire time. again, brilliant.

3. Breathe In, Breathe Out by @kirazalea ~20k. this woman is one of my all time favourite writers for just some really really good stories about the batfam working through and overcoming their issues. this series is comprised of 2 fics that deal with the batfam discovering how much of an impact other people’s blatant sexualization and dehumanization of dick does to him, and how, over time and with help from his family, he picks himself up and starts to defend himself. really just a wonderful series

4. Declensions by @dustorange 13k. the best rom dick grayson fic to ever exist ever. you ever look at dc making dick romani and how they fuck up all the time and think “this could have had so much potential?” this work of art tackles that issue and creates something spectacular. each line of this fic had me screaming with joy. the robin cape symbolism? beautiful. i reread it all. the. time.

5. Don’t by @haunt-the-stars ~4k. do i have too many fics on here about dick dealing with + recovering from sexual assault and rape? probably. do i care? no. this fic takes a dive into trauma and how it can affect victims. it was absolutely heartbreaking, but also has the actual best wally + dick friendship i’ve ever read ever. seriously. if “wally west is a Good Bro” could be condensed into one fic, it would be this one. 

6. the fit of the cowl by @quillium ~4k. some people could argue dick was the best batman. other could argue the cowl only hurt dick. still others say dick could’ve been a much better batman if was better written. regardless of your opinion, you should definitely read this fic. it delves into the different reactions the batfam have to batman!dick. the family dynamics in this one were super interesting, and it’s always wonderful to read a fic about dick grayson  but from someone else’s eyes

7. Hard Truths and Other Realities by @ckbookish  ~108k. a series about dick feeling lost after being fired from robin and eventually finding his way again. featuring very very much wonderful uncle clark, and bruce isn’t an asshole, he’s just a worried dad that fucks up a lot but tries his best to make amends. also, dick bonding with jason. it basically takes you through that time period from the end of dick’s robin to him solidly affirming himself as nightwing and starting to forgive bruce. a really cool take on canon, loved this series!

8. Job Performance by @i-just-want-to-destroy ~3k. ohhhhhh dear god does this fic give me the feels. set during s1 yj, it shows what being a vigilante since the grand age of 9 does to someone, how much it hurts dick to compartmentalize, how much he doesn’t even realize it. this fic leaves you with a sense of “wow. this child. he’s really fucked up.” in a heartwrenching way.

9. a soft place to land by @bluebeauregard 3k. the best dick + tim being brothers fic i’ve ever read. people like to expand on his gradual acceptance and love of jason, people go batshit crazy over him practically parenting damian. and while i do love those, dick and tim had the best canon sibling relationship in the comics (at least, in pre52). this fic takes that and runs with it, and it’s so goddamn unique. i have literally never read this idea anywhere, so i was blown away by both the fic and the way the author wrote it. 

10. touch starved by @iwhumpyou ~4k. we’ve all seen fics where timmy’s touch starved from not receiving much affection from his parents growing up and the rest of the batfam smothers him in hugs. but what i really want is a fic where dick’s the one touchstarved because he grew up in the goddamn circus where everyone was close, but ever since he came to live with bruce, he’s been starved of the affection he used to so freely get, because his entire family is most certainly not the touchy-feely type. and for added angst, he doesn’t do anything about it because he knows his family has issues with trust/intimacy and he wants to make them as comfortable as possible. anyway apparently that fic exists and it’s this one read it and sob with me will you?

11. you gotta tip on the tightrope by Anonymous 12k. for people that don’t actually know much about comics canon and why exactly dick went undercover at spyral, this fic is absolutely wonderful. it shows the lead up of events that led to dick faking his death and leaving, and why exactly he chose to listen to bruce. (i’m using “chose” liberally here). plus, sibling bonding!! specifically with jason!

12. young volcanoes by @dottie-wan-kenobi 3k. i haven’t read this fic in a while, so i don’t remember some of the finer details, but i do remember loving it. also i have it bookmarked on ao3 with the tag “THIS!!!!!!!” so that counts for something. this fic focuses more on dick’s relationship with the titans rather than bruce or the jl, and centers around what their friendship has done for dick/how it’s helped him, and how much he loves them. a wonderful team fic. 

anyway, i hope you enjoy these babe!! these fics are all so so incredible, and i just want to give all of these amazingly talented authors one big incredible hug. 

[powerosewaterpuff]

this idea for a fic/short fic came completely from a tiktok from @ fixation_or_infatuation on tiktok who has such awesome content so P L E A S E go check them out!! and thank u so much for the idea bc legit this made me so happy hehe

(also soft dad Bruce rights ok? oK I CLOSE MY EYES AND EARS TO CANON AND SAY FUCK THAT NOISE BRUCE IS A GOOD DAD FIGHT ME ON THIS HE IS A GOOD DAD WHO IF HIS SON CRIED FOR SOMETHING HE WOULD TURN THE EARTH OVER ON ITS ASS TO FIND IT FOR HIM PERIOD POINT BLANK. HE LOVES HIS CHILDREN OK A Y?? OH ALSO U CAN RIP DICK BEING AN ESL KID OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS OK? OK :) )

“-uce. Bruce? Bruce! Bru-uce! Bruce, I adopted a chihuahua and named her Georgina, what’d you think of that?”

“Hn?”

Bruce shot his head up, realizing he had made the foolish mistake of zoning out through an infamous Dick Grayson tale, that always required every form of attention necessary at all times. He could feel himself chuckle inwardly, as he saw his ward’s little pout as he chewed away at his tortellini, directing a solid stare of expectation at Bruce.

“You really need to sleep more, do you know that?” Dick hummed, raising a little eyebrow at Bruce, which was a facial expression that looked far too adult on his baby cheeked face, and it looked far to Bruce-esque for his own liking.

“Even if I didn’t know that, I’d always have you to remind me, don’t I?” Bruce teased, stirring up a bright giggle from Dick that simply filled his chest with a rush of warmth that he had never really felt before. He loved hearing his laughter, no matter where or when and whether it was a rarity or not, but it always felt just a little bit more special when Bruce had been the one to cause it.

“At this point, I would consider myself your own personal alarm cloc-Bruce, can I please wake you up singing Christmas carols tomor-Why? I have a beautfiul and spec-tac-u-lar voice, thank you very much!”

Bruce didn’t bother suppressing a teasing eye roll, as Dick’s voice sounded like glass being rubbed against a cheese grater when he tried to hit all of Mariah Carey’s notes. He did, however, nod slightly at Dick to congratulate him on his proper pronounciation of ‘spectacular’, which was a word that Dick usually had a hint of trouble with. It was a small action, but one he hoped Dick would understand.

“Anyways, can I ask you a question?” Bruce’s eyebrows curved upwards in question, just a smidge, as he pushed his plate of food aside and leaned closer across the table to give Dick his complete focus.

“You already did,” Dick rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort but Bruce cut him off, “However, what’d you need?”

Then, there was something Bruce never really thought he would see for as long as he would live. It was Dick Grayson, the beam of passionate sunshine himself, squirming shyly in his seat and chewing on his bottom lip. If Bruce wasn’t the master of supressing emotions then he would’ve been throughly surprised by this display.

Dick Grayson was simply not shy, not in the very slightest. He was bolsterous and bold with just a hint of cunningness behind it, but he certainly was not shy. This, of course, caused Bruce to begin categorizing all the possible problems there could be. He ran through them over and over in his head, trying to suppress an inexplicable feeling of dread and fear that was coursing through his chest only slightly, but still present.

Dick took a deep breath, and Bruce could feel himself holding his almost inadvertently.

“When Superman comes today, d-do you think I could get an autograph,” Dick spluttered out, saying it almost too fast that Bruce barely understood what had been uttered. He did feel himself take a massive sigh of relief, even though what replaced the dread in his heart was just a prick of bitterness. Dick had never asked for Batman’s autograph.

“If Clark’s alright with it, then I don’t see why not, chum.”

Then, like a burst of light on a cloudy evening, Dick jumped out of his seat and went around the table straight into Bruce’s arms for a full koala hug.

Bruce, who still wasn’t fully accustomed to such open and loving acts of affection, froze for just a slip of a moment but then melted into Dick’s hold, as he usually did. There was just something magical, dare he say, about his wards (sons) hugs.

Dick then propped his head onto Bruce’s chest, and beamed up at him with stars glittering in his eyes, “Thank you, B!”

Bruce yearned to say something, to say anything along the lines of; Of course, I would bring the moon down if you asked me too or I love you so much that your very laugh eases this knot in my chest that has never been able to budge.

Bruce only managed a meager, “No need to thank me, chum.”

Dick, who had been completely content with the answer given even though he shouldn’t have been, placed his hands onto Bruce’s shoulders and flipped into a handstand position. He then curved his body around enough to sit onto Bruce’s broad shoulders, which in full honesty, didn’t surprise Bruce at this point. He had become labelled as the ‘jungle gym man,’ which was a nickname graciously given to him by Dick himself.

“Now, ride my steed! To Alfie!”

Bruce prayed inwardly that Clark wouldn’t have to be a witness to this mayhem, because it really would lessen his fearsome status in the Justice League.

•••••••••••

Bruce was not jealous.

He simply was not and it didn’t matter how many side eyed stares Alfred shot his way, Bruce was a perfectly fine without a sliver of jealously.

It’s hero-worship, it’s just complete and utter hero-worship.

From the moment Clark Kent had stepped through the Cave’s doors, Dick had been unable to contain his sheer excitement as he bounced on the balls of his feet. The two had hit it off better then anyone Bruce had ever seen before, gabbering on about nothing and everything all at the same time. Now, Bruce was not upset about this, because Dick deserved someone who could give every inch of love he so generously gave back to him. Clark was just that person, as the Boy Scout himself matched wits with Dick far easier then Bruce had ever been able to do.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt any less.

“Master Bruce?”

Bruce swiveled his chair to face Alfred, as he sorted out the rest of his paperwork.

“Have you seen Master Dick since our guest left? I’ve been unable to locate him since then.”

His jaw clenched slightly, as he racked his brain around everytime he had seen Dick between the forty minutes since Clark had left and that moment. He felt his heart sink when he realized he hadn’t seen a trace of Dick since the Kryptonian had left.

Fuck.

Bruce hurried up to the third floor of the Manor, and felt his heart that had sunk into his gut shatter at the sound of a faint whimper slithering up to his ear from the bathroom across the hall. He gently walked towards it, slowly but surely turning the knob only to peer his head in, as not to startle Dick.

Dick was curled up into a ball across from the sink, small sobs heaving from his little chest as he desperately tried to push the oncoming flow of tears away with his palm. His cheeks were marred with fresh tear stains and his eyes were a leaning towards the pinker side as fresh tears began to bubble to the surface.

Bruce wasted absolutely no time as he skidded to the floor in front of Dick, gripping his wards shoulders tightly. Dick raised his head slightly, looking all the more ashamed for being caught crying which weighed down on Bruce like the weight of the ocean.

“Dick, what’s wrong?” Bruce whispered, wishing he could erase every inch of sadness off his face, “Please tell me what’s wrong, chum.”

Dick bit his lip, chewing on it for a bit, which Bruce recognized as one of Dick’s nervous habits. He made a note of that, just in case.

“I-Bruce, it’s stupid, alright? I-I’ll get up, I’m sorry for sitting on the bathroom flo-.”

“Dick,” Bruce huffed, firmly pushing Dick back onto the ground as he moved his hands to cup Dick’s cheeks, still filled with baby fat, “Nothing you say is going to be stupid. I want to know what’s wrong, alright?”

Bruce was not one to plead nor grovel, no matter how much life pressed its dirty heels into his back he never swayed. However, seeing Dick crying was such a weak point to him that it unnerved and horrified him. (It was probably why his nightmares had all had one consistent theme of Dick being in some sort of danger that Bruce could not save him from.)

Dick practically melted into Bruce’s hold, and nuzzled his face into his palm as Bruce wiped away stray tears. Fuck. Bruce needed to hug Dick more, or just show any shred of affection. He just wasn’t used to having to show an abundance of physical affection to someone, and had forgotten how much he had craved for it when he was younger, starving and hungry for shreds of affection he wasn’t expecting to receive, until he simply became numb to it. Dick really deserved someone better, and Bruce knew this more than anyone else.

After taking a shaky breath, Dick peered up at Bruce as he blinked away tears, “Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise,” Bruce vowed as he rubbed his thumb across Dick’s cheeks comfortingly.

“Do you remember how I wanted Superman’s autograph?” Dick mumbled softly, sniffling slightly. Bruce nodded but mentality cursed himself a thousand times for not realizing that Dick hadn’t asked a single time for an autograph from Clark.

“I-I really wanted to ask him! I kept waiting and waiting but I just couldn’t do it, b-because I thought he might find me annoying. I really, really wanted him to like me, Bruce! I thought he might get upset or get annoyed by me because I talk so much, so I just couldn’t do it and I don’t even know why I’m crying! He was so nice to me but I just really got scared a-and my tongue got tied like-like a knot! Does that make sense? My tongue was like this big heavy knot and it was stuck to my mout-Why am I crying!”

Dick tried to suppress a rising sob, as he covered in his eyes in shame. Bruce gently let go of his cheeks and spread his arms out gently, with the offer standing clear. Dick flung himself into Bruce’s waiting arms and buried his face in the crook of his neck, as he continued to try to mumble out a few words and hiccup. God, it was enough to make Bruce’s chest ache, as he rubbed soothing circles into Dick’s back softly.

“Clark would never find you annoying, not in a million years. Dick, can you look at me for a second? Clark would never find you annoying, and I don’t know a single person who would,” Bruce stated firmly, as he cradled Dick in his arms and shifted him so he would be facing him, “Dick, Clark would give you a thousand autographs if you asked, and do you want to know something? There’s nothing wrong with being a little shy, and you have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing at all.”

Dick sniffled a bit, as he snuggled closer to Bruce but he stayed quiet, which worried Bruce more so then it should’ve.

“You know, I get shy sometimes too,” Bruce confided quietly, as if it would provide some sort of comfort to Dick. It proved to work as Dick sat up with a start, glancing up at Bruce wirh furrowed brows.

“It’s never this emotional, but you know what? I think it’s better you let it all out, then trying to bottle it up inside,” Bruce murmured, pushing Dick’s fringe back. He saw a pensive look set into Dick’s features, and was met with another soft hug.

Dick was going to being the reason Bruce’s heart burst, he was sure of it.

“You’re the best, Bruce.”

Oh well, Bruce didn’t need a heart anyway. Not if he had Dick with him.

•••••

Bruce leaned over his phone, dialing a number into it as he kept his ears open to the sound of the tap shutting.

He had gotten Dick to wash his face a bit, with Alfred stepping in to look after him while Bruce made some executive calls.

The phone beeped for a bit. Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Hello? Bruce?”

“I’m going to say this one singular time, are we clear? You are going to fly over here and give Dick the best goddamned autograph you have given a person but you are going to let him ask for it first, then you’ll be on your merry way unless he asks you to stay for dinner, clear?”

“I-.”

Bruce ended the call, satisfied with the answer he was given. It still stung just a bit that Dick wasn’t demanding a Batman autograph, but he would make sure his ward (son) was as happy as can be, even if it meant letting the Boy Scout take his place as Dicks, ‘Favourite Adult.’

It was worth it, if he could make sure that brilliant smile was always there.

Fin

(P.S. Later that night, when Bruce was tucking Dick into bed after shutting The Vevlveteen Rabbit and setting it onto the nightstand, he noticed Dick was happily gripping the signed Superman card tightly in his hand. He shoved back his exasperation, but couldn’t help but give a raise of the brow when Dick asked if he could buy a Superman backpack.

“You already sleep in Superman pajamas, I think the commodities can stop at that,” Bruce suggested, ignoring the fact that Dick probably had no idea what that word even meant, “Would you not want any other hero?”

“Nope, he’s my favourite. Oh-Besides you, of course!” Dick hummed, as he used his other arm to grab Zitka from behind him, as casual as could be.

Bruce, on the other hand, had just had a bombshell dropped on him. A happy bombshell. A pleasant bombshell. A bombshell nonetheless, though.

“I wouldn’t get your merch, though. I have the real thing, and he’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Don’t tell Wally that though!” Dick exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Bruce like the most important part of that sentence was the warning of not to tell Kid Flash, and not that Bruce was his ‘bestest friend in the whole wide world.’

(Not father. Never his father.)

Bruce was silent, but leaned over to give Dick a peck on the forehead and a rare but soft smile. One he really only reserved for Dick and Alfred. He couldn’t afford to be selfish, this was enough for him. This was absolutely enough for him.

Dick returned his smile with one that shone brighter then all the suns Bruce had seen in his life.

Bruce really adored this kid.)

AND THATS IT HEHE PLEASE EXCUSE WELL EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FIC I WROTE IT AT 2AM AND WHILE I CONSIDERED POSTING IT ON AO3 (my account is ordinarilyspeaking btw :) ) I DECIDED TUMBLR IS WHERE IS POST MY 2AM THOUGHTS ANYWAY SO WHY THE FUCK NOT SO YEAH IM GOING TO GO PROCRASINATE MY ASSINGMENTS SOME MORE SO THANK U SO MUCH FOR READING HEHE!

[bellamyblake]

Okay okay if you're up to it the fandom really needs your headcanons about how Bellamy survived alone on a planet

Okay this isn’t too great cause I spent the whole day writing for the single!dad fic so...excuse me:

when he ended up lying on the ground of a new planet with the cold wind brutally blowing in his face, he thought that this was it-he was dead and this, whatever it was, was the afterlife;

it seemed appropriate; it was cold and horrible just like what he thought it’d be-a fine punishment for his awful sins;

but then the pain came and he groaned and even though there was no one to see him he still grit his teeth and swallowed down his whimpers-Bellamy Blake never showed his pain;

except his fingers brushed over the source from his right side and they came out sticky with blood;

dead men didn’t bleed, he thought;

with effort he moved up and looked around-all he could see was mountains everywhere, snow and harsh winds, trees and bushes that seemed less alive than he was;

he sat up with effort and looked down at himself-he was still dressed in Gabriel’s cardigan but his black shirt underneath was soaked in his blood; there was some shrapnel in him too-it must’ve been from the blast of the bomb in the previous planet where he last saw Octavia;

he yelled, tried to get help but no one ever answered, so he decided he had to save himself and look for shelter; 

it was snowing constantly and soon enough he was freezing not only because he was losing blood;

he found a stick good enough to keep him upright and when he took the first step he sobbed-it hurt so much. 

Goddammit is this how he dies? All alone on a deadly planet?

“That’s always been your biggest fear, wasn’t it?” a voice came from his left and when he turned around he saw his mother’s figure; he wanted to say he was surprised he was haunted by ghosts but was he really? he was hurt and he knew a fever already coarsed through him-he’d probably be dead by the end of the day;

ghosts made sense now;

“Dying alone?” Aurora added and he gripped the stick as he took another step; she wasn’t wrong, he was afraid but there was also a part of him that felt indifferent to it all-so what? he would die. it’s not like he didn’t deserve it. it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it on numerous occasions; 

“Except I’m not alone, am I?” he mumbles as he starts moving towards what seems like a cave in the distance “You’re here aren’t you?”

“I’m not who you want to see, though.”

“Octavia’s back on that planet.”

“I’m not talking about Octavia.” his mother smiled and he shakes his head, pretending not to have heard what she said,pretending that the only thing pushing him to keep walking was the thought of blond hair and piercing blue eyes;

when he finally makes it inside the cave, he passes out and he doesn’t think he’ll wake up;

except he does, it’s morning, the sun is peaking through and he’s frozen to death but somehow he manages to sit up and he has to crawl outside to gather sticks before going back in and starting a fire;

everything hurts-his body, his wound, his head but most of all his heart; 

once the fire’s on, he uses the only knife he had hidden in his booth to dig out the shrapnel and cauterize his wounds;

“That won’t work if it’s already infected.” the sound of Clarke’s voice shakes him back to reality but when he looks around he doesn’t see her like he did his mother.

“Then I guess I’ll die without saying goodbye, princess.” he mumbles and then he passes out by the fire;

he dreams of her, all the time; distantly he knows that a fever is raging through his body, so harsh and so disastrous it feels like it’s splitting his body in two;

his heart is beating out of his chest; his head is trumping so loud it feels like it’ll burst and yet he sees her;

some of it is things conjured up by his own mind-things that never happened like him building her a cabin just for her and Madi and watching them move in laughing and crying from happiness; some of it is him taking her hand and kissing her on that same porch he made; some of it is him taking her in his arms and dumping her in the river while she squirmed and kicked and tossed and protested loudly “Bellamy, NO! No, don’t do this!”

and the others are stuff that really happened, stuff he buried in his heart and never told no one about; stuff he reminisced about on the Ring like the day trip or joining her to do laundry by the river while the kids at the drop ship still slept or doing inventory in medbay with her while she hummed a quiet soft song her father taught her; 

he dreams of her hands on his forehead, on his wound, cupping his cheek, brushing his lips;

and then he wakes up; the fire around him is gone;

so is the fire within him;

 he stands up once again and grabs his stick; he feels as hopeless and as sad as he did back on that one year on the Ark when everything was lost;

now so was he;

but he had to find them; he had to go back; for his friends, for Octavia;

“For your princess.” his mom’s voice came through his ears and he smiled; he took a step towards the outside world;

“I’m not afraid.” he whispered to himself and he believed it; 

he wasn’t afraid and he wasn’t alone; Clarke was out there waiting;

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 5 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things. 

Chapter warning: there be death and blood. Tread at your own risk

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 5

"Yo, Fenturd, funny seeing you here."

"Last time I checked, our entire class is supposed to be on this trail. I don't know why you're so surprised," Danny quipped before he could stop himself.

Dash grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "What was that?"

"Could you deal with your beef with this loser later? I'm all sweaty and getting covered in dirt. My designer clothes will get ruined at this point," the one girl, Paulina whined. The other girls in the group, her satellites, quickly tried to comfort her.

Danny caught sight of the scowl on Sam's face as she took a step forward. His friend held distain for the popular girls on the best of days, but it was situations like this which really upset her. They didn't care about anyone outside of their group, and often stood by and laughed as the jocks bullied others.

Paulina, who was the unspoken queen of their grade, was often outspoken about girls who she thought was beneath her, but she had also begun her own form of bullying in their sophomore year. She used her beauty to make guys fall for her and give her items. Once she was finished using them, she often publically embarrassed them or had Dash and his cronies throw a few punches. She had tried to go after Danny once, but after encountering his parents and their eccentricities once, she wanted nothing more to do with him.

"Can't I at least get one punch in?" Dash requested as he sized up Danny. "I mean, this is my last year to wail on him."

"You can't argue with that," Zack added as he crossed his arms and leaned against a nearby tree. "Why deny a man a simple pleasure?"

"Fine, but hurry it up," Paulina finally agreed as she and her friends moved to the side.

"You hear her. Grab him," Dash instructed has he pushed Danny backwards. He barely had time to catch himself before his arms were grabbed by two of the jocks.

Before he had a chance to throw his punch, Kwan grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, is this really the best place to do this? That one Ranger wasn't that far behind us."

"So?"

"Your buddy has a point," Sam spat as Tucker tried to hold her back. It was clear she was itching to hit someone in the shin with her combat boot. "If a Ranger catches you assaulting someone, not only could you lose your spot on the football team, you could get jail time."

Before Dash could make his decision, a scream rang out through the area. Everyone glanced around, but it didn't seem as if anyone found anything unusual. "Didn't that sound like Mikey?" Tucker asked after a moment.

"Drop him. That will definitely draw attention we don't want," Dash told his friends. "Mikey was up ahead of us, wasn't he?"

"I think so. Why?" Kwan questioned.

"We should go check on our other punching bag. Make sure he's not too hurt. Besides, maybe we'll learn something we can use to scare him with later. Come on." He beckoned them forward as he began following the trail again. The girls quickly followed him. The jocks holding Danny shared a look before letting him go.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Danny looked up to see Kwan watching him. "Yeah. I know you were trying to help out there. Thanks."

The football player nodded before he ran after his friends. Although Danny didn't exactly trust Kwan, he knew that he was a much kinder person than most of Dash's friends. Kwan really didn't want to be involved with the bullying, but was forced to go along with it for reasons Danny didn't quite understand.

"Do you think we should follow them?" Danny turned to see his friend's responses.

"Absolutely not!" Tucker shouted before Sam could respond. "Dude, didn't you notice that Dash is in one of his moods?"

"You're such a coward, Tucker." Sam grabbed his arm and began pulling him along the path. "He could need our help."

"Or we could get beaten to a pulp too."

"I'm with Sam on this one." When Tucker sent him a look a betrayal, Danny amended, "I mean, we don't have to get close if nothing is wrong, but if they need help, we can go get a Ranger. Didn't Kwan mention there should be one not too far away?"

"Fine, but don't expect me to get killed along with you."

…..

After a few minutes of walking, Danny and his friends first caught sight of Dash and his friends. They seemed to just be staring at something in the woods. The girls were nowhere nearby. Mikey was sitting on the ground at their feet and was crying inconsolably.

"What… what should we do?" Tucker whispered as they hid behind a nearby tree and monitored the situation.

The hair on the back of Danny's neck felt as if it was standing on end. As soon as they got to this area, something felt extremely wrong. "Although this goes against my desire for self-preservation, something's not right."

"You noticed it too?" Sam asked as she stepped out from around the tree and approached the group. "Hey! What's wrong?" Danny and Tucker shared a look before they followed her.

Mikey noticed them first. His glasses were somewhat foggy because of his tears. "Lester…" he choked out.

"What about Lester? Mikey, talk to us." Danny kneeled down so his distraught classmate wouldn't have to look up at him.

"He… he… we lost sight of him for just a moment," Mikey whispered as he grabbed Danny by the arms. His wide eyes almost made him look insane. "He didn't answer when we called him, and we didn't see any signs of him. After… after searching and not seeing him… Jimmy and Clark went off to tell Mr. Lancer. I stayed put just in case… Then… then something fell over there… and… and…" The sob that escaped the boy was somewhere in between a scream and absolute despair.

"What are you talking about? What happened?"

"Danny… I think you need to see something," Sam whispered as she shook his shoulder.

After gently prying Mikey's hands off of him, he stood up and looked at his friends. Both were incredibly pale, which was quite the feat for Tucker due to his naturally dark skin. Sam glanced at him before she pointed at something off the trail. At first, he had no idea what he was supposed to see, but after a moment, a soft dripping sound caught his attention. As he focused on that, he felt his blood run cold.

The dripping was coming from blood falling from a figure in a tree that was about thirty yards off. After a moment, he realized the figure was Lester. It almost looked as if someone had thrown him onto the branches, but with how limp his figure was and the strange pallor of his skin, Danny was convinced he was dead.

The sound of retching caught his attention. He turned to see Tucker wiping his mouth as he weakly straightened his posture. "That's… that's so messed up."

"We… we need to get help," Danny stammered as he glanced at the jocks. They all seemed to be in a trance. He snapped his fingers in front of Kwan's face. "Hey, hey! Come on! Snap out of it." The jock shook his head for a moment and glanced around before stumbling backwards into Dash. That seemed to break the rest of them out of their trance.

After a moment of confusion, Dash spotted Danny and once again grabbed him by the shirt. "Alright, Fenturd, you better have a good explanation of what happened!"

"Get off of me!" he snapped as he wrestled out of Dash's grip. "I don't know what happened either. You got here first, remember? I do know we need to alert the Rangers."

"Dash, what happened to the girls?" Lucas asked as he glanced around before he glared at Danny and his friends. "If you losers did anything to them…!"

"We haven't seen them since we got here," Sam replied as tried to help Mikey stand. He wasn't complying and had opted to stare at the ground. "Tucker, what are you doing? Don't tell me you're taking pictures."

"I am," he shakily told her as he tapped his phone. "I… I still can't get a signal. This way… we have a record of where we are… and, what the?!" As he spoke, another scream broke the silence of the forest.

"That sounded like Star!" Kwan yelled as he took off to investigate.

"Hey, wait up!" The rest of the football players quickly ran after him leaving Danny, Sam, and Tucker alone with Mikey, who still seemed dazed.

"I vote we try to get back to camp." Tucker had put his phone away and was glancing around nervously.

Danny nodded as he and Sam picked up Mikey. His frame was small and lanky, so he thankfully didn't weigh too much. Although he wasn't exactly responding to them, they were able to get him to walk by tugging on his wrist.

The group headed down the path as quickly as possible, but it wasn't fast enough for Danny's liking. The uneasy feeling he had when they first reached the area where they found Lester hadn't left. It felt like they were being watched and followed, and it made him want to run. As uncool as it was, he wanted to run away as fast as possible, but he couldn't leave his friends alone with whatever was lurking out there. He also couldn't just leave Mikey.

A glance at the shocked boy told Danny that he was having a hard time processing exactly what happened to his friend. Although Danny really couldn't say that he and Mikey were friends, he knew the boy enough to know that he and Lester were almost like brothers. It was understandable he couldn't function after witnessing that, but he really did wish the boy would move faster. They needed to get to a safer location, preferably sooner than later.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Sam hesitantly asked as they moved.

"Nah uh. No way. We're still out in the woods with something without any adults around. You saw what happened!" Tucker sounded frantic as he looked around the area.

"It can wait until we get back to camp," Danny agreed as he kept his eyes on the trail. A strange noise caught his attention, and after a moment, he stopped to listen.

"Dude, what are you doing? You can't stop now."

Danny shushed him as he listened. A strange sound, almost like a bird call but almost metallic, was coming from somewhere behind them. He turned to see if he could catch sight of whatever the source was, but he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. After a few moments, the bird call was joined by the sound of rustling wings, but that also sounded almost metallic as there was a strange buzz to it.

"It's back!" Mikey suddenly shouted, causing the rest of them to jump. He then wrestled out of Sam and Danny's grips before he took off down the trail.

"Mikey! Come back! What's back?" Before Danny had a chance to go after him, Sam grabbed his arm and pointed to something in the trees.

A silvery flash caught his attention. As he watched it, he realized it looked like a skeletal bird made from some sort of metal. It finally came to a stop on a tree branch a few yards down the trail from them. Its eyes were an eerie red. After it appraised them, it let out a horrifying screech.

"I see you found the target!" an excited voice rang out from the woods.

Danny and his friends formed a tight circle with their backs on the inside as they scanned the area. No one seemed to be nearby. Other than the sound of the strange bird and their breathing, there were no other sounds. After a moment, a figure emerged from shadows of the forest.

The figure was the size of a young child and was carrying something over its shoulders. As it came closer, they could tell that it looked like a young boy, expect his skin was abnormally white, seemed to have green hair, and it almost seemed like he was glowing.

"Is that Mikey?" Tucker whispered as he pointed to what the strange glowing figure had over its shoulder.

"Get away from him!" Danny shouted, uncertain if it was even able to understand him.

"And what are you going to do about it?" The boy laughed as he watched them. "I was told I could take a playmate if I helped Plasmius get his target, so I'm not giving him back!"

"What should we do?" Tucker whispered as he took a few steps backwards. "I don't know what that thing is, but I don't think that's a person."

"I think you're right, but we need to help Mikey," Danny told him. "But I have no idea how to safely do that." Before he had a chance to make a decision, Sam threw a few rocks at the strange boy. However, they passed through him without any damage.

He stuck his tongue out at the group. "That was mean, but luckily for me, stuff like that can't do any damage." A devilish grin crossed his face as his hand began to glow a sickly green. "Although I'm not allowed to touch Plasmius' target, I'm allowed to have some fun with anyone else who gets trapped."

"Run?"

"Run!" Danny and Sam yelled in response to Tucker's question. The three of them quickly ran off down the trail.

As they moved, the forest around them seemed to grow darker and more menacing as the trail became harder to follow. After what felt like hours, the three of them finally came to a stop in a decently sized clearing as Tucker and Danny had reached their limit.

"Guys, I don't think this is normal." At Sam's strange statement, the boys looked at their surroundings. The trees appeared dead and were a strange and unnatural gray color. The sky above them was a radioactive green mixed in with swirls of a neon purple.

Someone behind them began clapping. They turned to see a figure wearing white approach them from the trees. Instead of being a child like the previous one, this one was clearly an adult male. Its skin was a sickly blue, and its dark hair almost looked like horns.

"You've led me on a merry chase," it told them. Its voice was cultured and confident. Danny caught a glimpse of fangs as it spoke "However, I was only supposed to take one of you. What exactly should I do with the extras?"

"You could let us go. Pretty please?" When Danny and Sam shot Tucker an incredulous look, he quickly defended himself. "What? It doesn't hurt to ask."

"I appreciate your attempt at civility," the creature told him. "However, it that is not something I can easily do. You see, it's fairly difficult to bring over more than one human at once with normal techniques. That bird of Youngblood's is something to behold. Its magic is just subtle enough to distract someone just long enough for one of us to take him or her. I must find out if I can get one of my own."

"Where are we? What are you?" Danny demanded, sounding a lot braver than he felt. This things was terrifying.

"It's rather rude to ask that, but you're clearly frightened, so allow me to explain. "I am called Plasmius, and this is the realm of the dead."

===========================

Note: shout out to anyone who caught my unintentional Superman reference.

For the international readers, 1 yard is about 91 centimeters, and 1 foot is approximately 30.5 centimeters. 

[loisinherlane]

4, 15, 18!

rimi ily <3 <3 <3 <3

4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

Sometimes! Sometimes I don’t use an outline at all, and sometimes I outline while I write. If it’s a shorter fic, I probably won’t use an outline unless I get pretty far into it and need to stop. And then I usually scribble down which scenes I plan to write. I definitely need an outline for longer fics, but I sometimes start writing first so I have a better sense of what the fic is going to feel like. How far I stray really depends on when I outline. If I outline first, I may stray for pacing or plot purposes. If I outlined in the middle, I might stray a little when I realize I want more scenes.

15. A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be? 

Ohhhh, that’s so hard. Maybe Past Tensions? I wrote it as kind of a commentary on superhero stuff, so I feel like it would translate relatively well. On the other hand, I would absolutely love to see the Single Dad Clark AU adapted. Yes, it’s not “one” fic, but it’s kind of still. one fic.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

:3c This question excites me so much. I had to skim through a few fics to decide just one, but I did it... even if it’s a long scene, so it’s under a cut. (Scene from Infinity and Apple Pie, very spoilery!)

When Brainiac took Metropolis, Kon had been in Hawaii. He couldn’t enjoy the sunshine or the waves, but he could sit there and remember how they’d felt. Some days, that was enough.

I really wanted to drive home how being a ghost feels, especially since I hadn’t addressed it much in the fic. Kon hadn’t really thought about the problems before because it hadn’t really sunk in what being dead entailed. And by this point, he’s really starting to miss being alive, seeing how little he actually gets by hanging around. But he’s still doing.

He didn’t hear a thing about Metropolis until one of the families started a ruckus.

“Mom! Mama! Metropolis is gone!” The kid on their phone yelled until their moms came rushing over. Kon could hear the video from his spot on the sand.

Gay, gay, homosexual, gay.

  “—aerial view reveals that Metropolis, home of Superman, has vanished without a trace. A clear line marks the area, through bridges and—”

Kon shot up.

  “It’s as of yet unknown whether Superman was in Metropolis at the time—”

Even if he wasn’t, Lois and Jon Samuel probably were. Kon flew to Metropolis first—or rather, where Metropolis was supposed to be. Just as the news reports had said, it was gone, leaving nothing but a sunken patch of dirt and dozens of crumbling bridges. Other heroes from neighboring cities had already sprung into action.

“Let them save everyone,” Kon hoped and turned for Smallville instead.

I’m not very good at writing action scenes, so I was hoping for a minimalist effect in describing the damage.

Kon remembered the first time he’d been in Smallville during tornado season. Ma and Pa had settled in the living room, peeking outside every so often to look at the clouds. The meteorologist had warned everyone to settle in a room without windows, a basement preferably. But they insisted.

“We’ll know when it’s time to go underground. We can’t keep an eye on it down there,” Pa had scoffed.

Tornado Alley rights! Bitches love watching tornados!

It wasn’t surprising to find them on the porch for this, the sky less green clouds of a thunderstorm and more a pink-gray haze. Unnatural but just as fascinating.

“Our boy will save the day,” Pa promised now, clutching Ma to his chest. Kon found himself filled with the urge to fly back to Gotham, find Tim, just in case—

But Kon didn’t go anywhere. He stared at the sky and waited. After all, Superman would save the day.

When the clouds receded, Pa turned to Ma and grinned. “Everything’s going to be alright now,” he promised. Then he froze. He lifted his right hand to clutch at his left arm.

“Jonathan,” Ma said. She looked up at the sky. “Clark!”

Tim had made everyone on Young Justice take first aid. Kon recognized the signs too easily. He couldn’t do a thing to change it.

So, this was where I really wanted Lara’s warning to come into effect. Like, yes, she had been warning about everything else Kon had watched. Yes, he’d had to watch his girlfriend join a cult. Yes, he’d had to see Tim try to clone him. Yes, Bart died. But I think there’s something really scary about seeing a family member in pain like this. And the difference between the Kents and the superhero world is how mundane this is. Pa has a heart attack. In canon, he dies because Clark can’t get there in time. Here, Kon has to watch, and it’s so different.

“Do you want to watch this?” Lara asked. She sat on the Kents’ porch swing, a real picture in her Kryptonian garb, all finery against cracked wood.

“Pa’s having a heart attack! I can’t just leave!” Kon snapped. “I have to be able to do something! Clark can’t hear him. He’d be here by now if—”

“Clark!” Ma wailed, a little louder.

“Kon-El. There is nothing you can do,” Lara said firmly. “Please, stop torturing yourself.”

Ma couldn’t hold Pa up by herself. They’d both slumped on the ground. Pa’s head lolled to the side. He stared at the porch, eyes squinted. “C— Conner…”

Kon’s face went white. “He—”

I know someone asked me about this, but yes, Pa sees Kon because he’s dying. :) This would be very effective in an actual comic, I think.

“You don’t have to watch,” Lara said.

“No!” Kon shouted. “I’m not letting go. Pa can’t die. I’m still here for a reason!”

“Because you refuse to—”

“That’s right. I refuse.”  Kon stood a little straighter before taking flight down the road into Smallville proper.

There was only one hospital in Smallville, and the EMTs sat outside the ambulance bay to watch the storm. Kon sunk to his knees in front of the first.

“Help me,” he begged. “Please, please hear me. We need help. At the Kent farm. Jonathan Kent had a heart attack. Please.”

“What a storm,” the first said.

“Prob’ly one of those alien attacks again. You saw that report on Metropolis, right?” The second lifted her phone and started scrolling.

“Listen to me! Please, you have to help! At the Kent farm. Please!”

The third leaned to look. “It’s back now?”

“Weird,” said the first.

“Please,” Kon said. “Please. My grandpa is dying!” He slumped forward.

“Did you hear that?”

Kon lifted his head. The second EMT had narrowed her eyes, skimming the area.

“Please,” he said more frantically, “my grandpa is dying! He’s had a heart attack. At the Kent farm! Hurry!”

“We… we have to go to the Kent farm,” the second EMT said, standing up. “Now.”

“What?” the third asked. “We haven’t gotten a call—”

“We have to go,” she said firmly.

I considered having Kon track an ambulance down on the road, but I was like, wait, how would I make it clear he’s not taking an ambulance from someone else who needed one? How would he even find an ambulance? Would Smallville have more than one? This seemed neater.

Kon let out a breath of relief and rode in the back of the ambulance all the way back to the farm. When the sirens reached the front of the house, Ma looked up and sobbed in relief.

“Help! My husband—” she yelled.

The EMTs started their work without hesitation, and Kon’s eyes watered.

“I did it,” he said.

“Did you?” Lara asked. She hummed. “Your medicine is so primitive. I hope it’s effective.”

“Don’t start that right now,” Kon snapped.

Lara tilted her head. “I’m… not. I hope you can save your grandfather’s life.”

Kon stared at her, twenty-five and never growing older, a woman with so much potential who had lost everything save the opportunity to see her son. “You never moved on,” he said.

Lara smiled. “No. I must admit that I… find enough gratification in seeing my family,” she said. “And Jonathan Kent cared for my son when I could not. I will never have enough gratitude to the people who loved him as much as I do.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was trying to do with Lara at first. The longer I built up the “afterlife” in this world, the more I realized I didn’t have a good excuse for her to be there. After all, Bart and Kon weren’t staying dead when they moved on. They were coming back to life at the right time. I didn’t really want to answer any actual afterlife questions either, so I didn’t want to say Lara was coming back and forth just to visit Kon and help him.

Then I wrote this scene, and it hit me. Lara is watching over Clark. It’s interesting to build her character because she’s so often neglected for Jor-El. I wanted her to be a slightly awkward, clinical mind. And I really wanted to drive home her loss in comparison to the Kents. If Pa died, it would be sad, but he’s also not a young man. Anyway, this fic kind of works if you consider any Mr. Oz stories as a possibility because Jor-El isn’t even really mentioned. Lara is dead for sure. But Jor... Who knows?

Clark arrived just as the EMTs had loaded Pa into the back of the ambulance, an old flannel and jeans thrown on. “Ma, is Pa okay?”

In canon, he arrives as Superman, but he couldn’t do that here.

“They’re taking him to the hospital. But he’s— he’s—” Ma sobbed and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Oh, I don’t even know how they knew to be here. Praise the Lord.”

The second EMT ushered them both into the back of the ambulance. “It’s funny that you say that,” she said. “I… I could have sworn I heard a boy yelling. ‘My grandpa had a heart attack. On the Kent farm. Please help!’ Something like that.”

Clark and Ma exchanged looks.

“Jon Samuel is—”

“In Metropolis, with Lois,” Clark said. “No, he’s not— He couldn’t have—”

The best/worst part of writing is trying to use as few words to say something as possible. Clark and Ma know something is up, but they don’t know how to address it. They know it’s not Jon. But also, how could it be anyone else? Especially considering the complicated familial relationships Kon has, it was fun to try to put together the right words.

Lara held out her hand for Kon. This time, he took it.

[bellarkefanfiction]

Submissions are closed and we’re excited for everyone to vote on this month’s flash fics!

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Voting

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Prompt - reconcile

To view all entries click below. 

1. Reconciliation

He’d thought he might never see her again.  Told himself over and over that he didn’t care.

Before, when she’d been gone for all those weeks, Bellamy had convinced himself that it was okay.  That Clarke’s need to be separate, to be alone, to be where he was not, was so much more important than any sadness he might feel at her absence.

So he’d papered over the emptiness, and carried on, and accepted that it was all for the best.

But that was before he’d found her.  Found her and failed her within the space of one sunny afternoon.  And he knew then that nothing was right.  Or fine.  And that her leaving had been a twisted kind of torture that left a gaping hole in his heart.

So when another chance came, he took it in a flash without a backward glance.  Or the smallest thought about where his loyalties ought to lie.

Then Gina had died.

And Clarke hadn’t come home after all.  This time, Bellamy hadn’t failed her.  She had betrayed them, and that betrayal felt personal.

After that, the rage and the grief and the guilt were so mixed up in his head that when he saw her again it all came spilling out.

Bellamy didn’t know if he wanted to protect or punish her.  If he hated or loved her.

Maybe both.

He tried so hard to hold onto his anger, but it was eating him from the inside.

He’d thought he might never see her again.  Told himself over and over that he didn’t care.

It had taken only one glance at her to know that for the lie it was.  So when she gathered him in her arms, he wept, and began to heal.  And the balm of reconciliation filled his heart.

2. dead girl talking

It’s a coping mechanism, her thumb on the button as she speaks into the radio, giving life to the words that clutter her skull. There is so much guilt and pain, and Clarke wants it gone, wants to fill the void in her that is Bellamy no longer at her side. If she talks like he’s there, then the world makes a little more sense, and she can breathe without feeling the flash of Primfiya or every decision she made leading up to that moment.

How is she supposed to bear the burden without him?

He thinks she’s dead, has probably looked out the cupola of the space station and seen a wasted earth and has spent the past years coming to terms with living a life where she does not exist. It kills her, so she talks daily, sometimes twice, three times, as if the radio waves won’t travel unfelt past him and into deep space, her desperation unheard.

To him, her death is a certainty- how could it not be?- but she has had to come to terms with the fear that he might not have even made it out of the atmosphere, could have asphyxiated from malfunctioning life support… he could be dead, too. It’s a reality Clarke cannot reconcile, will not consider.

Through all of this, Bellamy has to be alive.

“Hey Bel,” she scans the bruised sky arrival of twilight. There is a fixed spot just above the horizon, her man made star that houses all of her wishes and fears. The station catches the dying sunlight so brightly at this hour, “I’m alive, which means you are too.”

3. Together

Clarke had never been very good at lying to herself.  For all her concern about Raven, she knew damn well that wasn’t why she’d volunteered to accompany Bellamy.  She thought maybe he knew it, too.

“I don’t need you along just to drive the rover a couple hundred miles,” he muttered, his face a mask.  “Every operation isn’t going to fall apart if Clarke Griffin isn’t a part of it.”

“I know that,” she said, desperate for him to look at her with trusting eyes again.

Clarke hated how it had been between them since she’d pulled that gun.  She knew he felt betrayed, but didn’t he understand how excruciating that had been for her?

Abby interrupted then, but later, in the rover, she tried so hard to make him understand.

“No matter what I choose,” she said, her eyes heavy with the weight of it, “someone dies.”

What she didn’t say - what she didn’t have the courage to make plain - was that that someone could never be Bellamy Blake.  She figured he must have understood anyway, because he smiled at her.  One rare smile from Bellamy and her heart felt pounds lighter.

Clarke knew she was probably foolish to set such store by how he looked at her, but she also knew her heart had passed that point long ago.

Later, just before they left to fix the satellite, he smiled and whispered, “I hate when things aren’t right between us.  I’m glad we’re going on this adventure together.”

Still later, after the others blasted off, as she hid in the bowels of Becca’s lab while the burning wave destroyed the planet and wondered if she’d choose to live or die, it comforted her.

It mattered that at the very end she and Bellamy had been together.

4. Falling Into Place

Not for the first, Bellamy wondered if it had been wise to expand on his business and buy a house at the same time. It had seemed practical at the time; Blake’s Books was doing remarkably well, the price on the storefront next door had just been reduced, he and Clarke needed to move out of their apartment and into something bigger. Everything just fell into place.

He’s regretting it a little now as he stares at spreadsheets, wishing he could tear his eyes out. But it’s fine, it’s not like he was doing anything else tonight, not with Clarke still mad at him after their fight earlier. So Bellamy resigned himself to an evening of paperwork in his new study instead of curled up on the couch with his wife.

His glasses were sliding down his nose and he was scowling at his computer when a soft knock sounded from the door.

Bellamy clears his throat, “Come in.”

Clarke opens the door and cautiously steps inside. “I’m sorry,” she says, not looking at him.

“For which part, exactly?”

That causes her to jerk her head up and scowl at him. “For yelling at you earlier, dumbass.”

Bellamy can’t help the reflexive twitch of his lips. He stands up and walks over to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her arms. “I’m sorry too. But-” he continues as she opens her mouth, “You fainted today, Clarke. Maybe you should be taking it easy?”

She sighs as she leans into his chest, “You’re right. Can I blame the yelling on the hormones?“

“Cause you weren’t stubborn before you were pregnant,” he smiles, petting her hair.

Clarke tilts her head up and smiles, “Which means you should have been prepared for this.”

He shrugs, “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

5. Reconcile

Clarke thought she’d never feel this again. Yet, across the field stood a figure she called to on the radio foraux years. There stood the man that she promised she wouldn’t let get to her. She promised herself that their friendship and leadership was the most important thing. At the moment her heart was screaming— he was her focus. It didn’t matter what sort of promises she made. This was important. 

She dashed across the land not remembering what came first— her tears— or the screaming of his name from her chapped lips. She ran as fast as her legs would allow; he met her half way. 

To the day, she can’t remember who caught who— she thinks it was him— or who said the first words. With his arms around her tightly, and Clarke’s tears flowing down his chest. Nothing mattered, he was here. 

“Bellamy,” she sobbed, gripping onto him for dear life. She could feel his arms tighten at her voice and he pulled her closer. 

“Hey, princess,” he murmured against her hair as he stroked her back gently soothing her. 

Pulling away and tearfully smiling, Clarke reached to touch the hair that covered his face. “You’ve been gone for quite some time, huh?” she whispered, biting her lip to keep a sob leaving her lips again. 

Bellamy grabbed her hand with his bringing it to his lips, shaking his head and smiling. “I could say the same— your face looks a bit dirty.” 

Clarke scowled and tried pulling away, but Bellamy wouldn’t release her and instead brought her closer. A smirk played on his lips and pecked her forehead, chuckling. “Only kidding, princess.”

Despite everything going on, Clarke couldn’t help but stop and just gaze at Bellamy Blake. There standing— in front of her once again— and she made a promise. This one she was going to keep.

Bellamy Blake was never going to leave her sights again.

6. Return

She sat on the other side of the kitchen table that was once theirs, but Clarke had spent too many nights alone now to ponder the idea of sharing it with him again. She looked at Bellamy, eyes refusing to meet his and instead washing over his features, his tightening jaw, his dark curls, taking in what she had missed so fucking much. He had grown out his beard. He never grew out his beard before, yet it suited him now. Figures.

‘I was scared, Clarke’, Bellamy whispered. She could feel him like a magnet trying to find its home. ‘I had no idea what to do. I fucked up.’

He brought his gaze down to her swollen abdomen and she followed, at the same time feeling movement in her womb almost instinctively, whoever it was growing inside her sensing the presence of their father, finally.

Clarke felt a pressure build behind her eyes and she closed them before any tears could fall. Bellamy watched her hesitantly, unsure of whether to go to her, and god did she want him to go to her.

Six months, and no phone call. The thought of being abandoned again tore her apart.

‘Clarke.’ Bellamy reached to touch her any resting on the table, and she let him. A breath escaped her lips as she felt his warmth again. ‘I just wasn’t ready to be a dad.’

She paused, allowing herself to find her words.

‘You’ve done it before, Bellamy.’

He tightened his damn jaw again, ashamed for dismissing his own sister. So he stood up and walked around to kneel in front of her, and this time his eyes found hers.

‘And I’ll do it again. I promise,’ he pleads. ‘On your terms. I’m here.’

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to let him back into her life just yet, but she brought his fingers to her belly, feeling the roughness of his hands that she always loved. It would take a while, but she’d waited this long, she could wait a little longer.

7. you put the hell in hello

Bellamy Blake has his hands around her throat before the others can even step out of the Dropship.

He doesn’t notice the lush green trees or the clear blue sea or the fact that Raven landed right in the middle of the Garden of Eden.

All he sees is her.

And all he can think is that everyone he loves his dead. The Mountain Men were all dead, the City of Light destroyed, the Grounders disappeared, and their people in the sky were never coming down.

And it was all her fault.

Clarke tried to swallow, taking sharp breaths through her nostrils, and pleading with Bellamy with her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bellamy,” she gasped out when he finally released her.

“You don’t get my forgiveness this time, Princess,” he growled at her.

They had pulled the lever together at Mount Weather. They had defeated ALIE. They negotiated with Lexa which led to their people being slaughtered. But it was Clark who was known as Wanheda. It was Clarke who Death followed.

They had said their goodbyes before Praimfaya when Clarke sacrificed herself for the rest of them.

For six years she had been so alone, just looking up at the sky. Waiting for him. But he never showed.

Bellamy had let go of her neck, but they were only a breath away from one another.

She could see his cuts from battle had healed, but his eyes still blazed as bright as ever.

There were as many freckles on his face as there were stars in the sky. Clarke had spent many nights counting the stars and now she wanted to count his every freckle.

But she would never be that close to him. He wouldn’t let her. Not after what she did.

They would never reconcile.

vote here

[camsthisky]

45, 24, 14 and 5 (if it is ok to pick 4) for the fanfic asks?

Of course!

5. how long have you been writing?

Since I was in second grade! But fanfiction, I’ve been writing since I was in seventh or eighth grade? My sister found my fanfics, and she introduced me to ff.net.

14. easiest character to write

Dickie G. My boy. My son. The light of my light.

Dick Grayson is honestly one of the easiest characters for me to write, and I think Steph comes a close second.

24. favorite scene you’ve ever written

I actually have two favorites. I spend a lot of my time not really liking a lot of what I write, just because I know I can do better if I tried a bit harder, but both Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep and Where’s Grayson? are fics that I am so proud of. There my favorite fics of mine to read, I think, and Do Not Stand is probably just like. My absolute top favorite, because there’s so much emotion and it’s in Dick’s POV.

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep (excerpt):

Whatever pain medication Dick’s on, he thinks that maybe it should be a little stronger. Or a lot stronger. Anything, really, to push away the pounding ache in his head that’s taken over any and all rational thoughts.

For some reason, Dick decides to open his eyes. It’s a mistake.

The light is blinding, and it pierces straight to his brain, amplifying the pain. He groans and lets his eyelids flutter shut again, hoping that it will be enough to dampen the pain enough to make him feel like he’ll survive the night.

“Dick?” a voice whispers, and Dick knows that voice. He knows it like he knows how to perform a quadruple flip. Maybe even better. And despite past experience, Dick opens his eyes again and squints over at the man sitting in the chair at his bedside. Guilty eyes peer down at him, and a hand holds Dick’s own carefully, like if it grips too tight Dick will shatter into a million pieces.

(But Dick thinks that maybe he’s already shattered, because he doesn’t feel all that much like himself anymore, so the hand is more than welcome to hold his as tight as it wants. Especially if it’s this hand.)

Dick closes his eyes again and slumps into the pillows underneath his head. He’s lying on his side in his bedroom, and he’s exhausted. He can’t think of why at the moment, but he knows he’s not the least bit surprised at his own state. He probably did something completely stupid again, knowing him, and when Damian finds out—if he hasn’t already—Dick’s going to get those angry eyes thrown at him again.

He doesn’t think he can handle Damian’s angry eyes when the guilty ones keeping watch over him now are already bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Dick,” the voice says again lowly, and Dick can’t help it when he screws up his face against the emotions welling up inside his chest. They come out in a hitched sob, and Dick can’t stop it. He can’t. A warm hand runs through his hair, hushing him softly. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be okay.”

It hurts so bad, but Dick doesn’t think it’s just the pain in his head. He thinks that maybe the pain in his chest has something to do with this, too, and it’s nothing physical. It’s an ache that comes solely from seeing that face at his bedside once again like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t been dead for almost a year.

“Bruce,” Dick sobs, squeezing Bruce’s hand to the best of his ability. It’s not very tight, and Dick isn’t sure how to make it tighter, but Bruce squeezes back, and that’s all Dick really needs right now. Dick says thickly, “I thought you were dead.”

“I know,” Bruce tells him. He sounds calm.

Dick opens his eyes a third time, desperate to match Bruce’s tone to an expression, and when he does see Bruce’s blurry face again, it’s all wrong. There’s a twist to Bruce’s features that betrays his voice, and—god. It looks like Bruce is grieving Dick before he’s even gone. There’s guilt and anger and fear all mixed up in that face, in those eyes, and Dick has a hard time not reaching up his other arm to grab Bruce’s shirt and shaking some sense into him.

But Dick is tired. He’s just had brain surgery, he remembers. Damian isn’t dead. Dick isn’t dead. And Bruce—Bruce isn’t dead, either.

Nobody’s dead, so why does Bruce look like he’s just lost his entire world again? Dick doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever figure it out.

45. share the synopsis of a story you’re working on that you haven’t published yet

Ummmm, okay. So I have a ton of stories that I need to update, but I’m working on a “Batfam visit the Kent Family Farm” story. I’m not going to post it until I finish it which probably won’t be until after next semester is over sorry. It’s basically: Bruce is convinced by Clark and Lois and Selina to take his children on a roadtrip to Kansas to spend a week at the Kent’s farm with Clark’s family, and cue shenanigans and pranks and drama.

[lookatthisdork]

Brother AU, with more Clark this time

Recap: AU where Clark was raised as Bruce’s younger brother.

Clark knew he was stronger than average, but he didn’t know he was bulletproof until he stepped between his brother and an armed gunman during a hostage situation.

Batman hates when Superman insists on taking hits meant for him. Doesn’t matter if he’s bulletproof, not all bullets are lead and Batman has already ducked out of the way, stop diving in front of me, Superman.

Bruce is bad at communicating in any universe. In this one, he left on his Batman-training journey after he graduated high school while his brother was away from home on a school-sponsored trip. Clark was so pissed (and hurt) when he realized Bruce had skipped town. He confronted him at the first airport Bruce touched down at (a layover in Paris maybe), and there was a lot of yelling. Bruce said some not-good things, Clark said some not-good things. Basically it ended with Bruce leaving anyway and Clark declaring he’d have nothing more to do with Bruce Wayne.

Clark Kent is an unremarkable young man who’s employed by the Daily Planet straight out of college. He works his way up the ranks with his keen eye for detail and uncanny ability to chase down the juiciest leads. He grew up in some place in Kansas no one’s ever heard of and has only ever lived in Smallville and Metropolis. He has no brother.

(Clark Wayne still exists. No appearances in public since high school (there are conspiracy theories about how he died or maybe never existed) but there are still projects and funds in his name. It’s his signatures that grace Wayne memos for seven years while Bruce is away.)

(Clark calls Alfred regularly during this time in his life. Bruce does not.)

Batman debuts three months before Superman does and five months before Bruce Wayne reappears in public. He does so quietly, with an absolute absence of fanfare. He’ll be an urban legend for a year, then an open secret Gothamites whisper about but never confirm to outsiders. Superman, on the other hand, debuts very publicly and is absolutely dominating the news cycle.

Bruce does not wait, does not hesitate. He drives his ass to Metropolis the moment he hears about Superman. His socks don’t match, his shirt is wrinkled, no one recognizes him as Bruce Wayne because he looks kind of deranged and no one wants to look him in the face.

The ensuing reunion ends with Clark having to explain to his landlord why there’s a person-sized hole in his exterior wall and Bruce complaining about how Metropolis’s Thai restaurants suck when they go to grab dinner.

When they’re full-grown, Bruce is a bare inch taller than Clark. Clark secretly likes being shorter, Bruce not-so-secretly likes being taller.

Clark knocking Bruce unconscious so he can’t go on patrol sick/with an injury is a thing that happens more often than Bruce wants to admit. 

Likewise, Bruce squatting in Clark’s apartment whenever Clark is wallowing happens more often than Clark wants to admit. 

The brothers rag on each other’s personas (Brucie Wayne, Clark Kent) constantly. CONSTANTLY.

Several of Bruce’s alibis for Batman things are Bruce calling Clark to fly him to Exotic Locale X, take pictures, then fly him back to Gotham.

(Sometimes Clark doesn’t fly him back and this is the only way Bruce ever goes on real vacations before he starts adopting kids.)

It takes years for the Justice League to realize that Batman and Superman are actual brothers. Mostly because Superman quickly makes a joke out of it and Batman just gives anyone that asks about it a Look.

[frownyalfred]

Hello! Your fic "good in red" where Bruce finds Clark drenched in blood at the batcave, did remind me of a particular train of thought I had a while ago. It was about how Clark or any kryptonian with hyper-efficient senses, would react to sensory deprivation. Especially how he'd react to sensory deprivation tanks? I thought during his initial years when his powers were developing and fluctuating, he would love the idea considering it was very overwhelming to him at the beginning.

However I thought hypothetically if he were to try one, he'd go through a real bad panic attack and dissociate. Considering he's used to feeling, hearing and seeing too much all at once, the complete absence of sensory input would push him into a bad headspace and put his mind on a overdrive. Coupled with his issues and guilt complex, the idea of missing any call for help while being in the tank would make him feel tense and paranoid the whole time, defeating the whole purpose of being in a sensory deprivation tank. Maybe for a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, a sensory deprivation tank would serve the exact opposite effect of what it would help a normal human achieve ( you know like peace of mind, tranquil? a break from overstimulation and anxiety)

But BUT what if, he uses it as unhealthy coping mechanism? For instance, what if Clark in your fic, instead of going to Bruce, goes to the Fortress and just enters the sensory deprivation tank he probably redesigned from one of those cryostasis chamber with the help of the kryptonian AI there? What if he does this at times when a mission goes downhill and he just doesn't want to feel anything at all after being overwhelmed by the agony and despair of the aftermath? I had this image of him entering a sensory deprivation tank all bloody, inspired by your fic? Bruce who comes to find Clark after receiving only radio silence from him even when he called for him, only to follow the trails of blood to find him floating in a tank also stained red with all the blood, jumping to the worst conclusion in the opposite end of the spectrum unlike your fic. How Bruce would help Clark come back then? After all, there's a reason they don't let humans in those tanks for too long. Can you imagine how bad of a headspace Clark would be in after locking himself in for hours? Would Clark even become catatonic for some time?

Seeing how much it affects Clark, would Bruce think about looking up sensory deprivation for kryptonians in more detail from the point of using it as a contingency? Would he be disgusted to think of it seeing how badly Clark was affected and yet he can't exactly dismiss the idea considering if any kryptonian went rogue, he'd need as many aces up his sleeve as possible to be able to find a way to defeat them. And the potential of a sensory deprivation tank utilized as a cage, eliminates the probability of him having to use lethal means. And even if Clark or any rogue kryptonian escapes, they'd be instantly overwhelmed and in extreme scenarios even become catatonic from the sudden influx of sensations. It gives him time to strike once again. All this information obviously needs to be saved for references and contingencies, even if it makes Bruce nauseous. He probably has nightmares of Clark begging him not to put into the tank, not again please and wakes up from drenched in sweat.

Sorry this got too long! I was just so excited and wants to blabber about it to someone! I loved that fic of yours btw! Whump you write always ends up too good to be just read and left at it! Anyways have a good day or night! (Sorry if there's any errors 😅 it's like 2am)

agh, this is an amazing take and I agree 100%. I almost -- really -- want to write a second chapter/remix of the fic now where this happens, because I agree -- it's absolutely in character for Clark and Bruce would have a trial on his hands, bringing him back from the edge.

Plus, the visual of Clark slowly lowering himself into the deprivation tank -- sobbing and covered in blood that slowly sloughs off him in the perfectly-neutral water -- compels me.

god he would be so sad *clenches fists*

[tobegthequestion]

new clexa fic!

hello friends! i decided to start a new clexa fanfic, a nice slowburn because i love dying. you can also check it out on AO3 here. 

you just can’t see it yet - chapter 1 

“Oh my God, Anya, can you let it go?” Lexa groans as she pushes herself off the couch, heading into the kitchen both to grab a beer and shake her obnoxious best friend.

“No, I cannot let it go,” Anya huffs, blocking Lexa’s way back out of the kitchen. “You two were together for five years, she can’t just move out one day and leave you a note!”

“Well, evidently she can, since that’s exactly what she did,” Lexa shoves past Anya and propels herself onto the couch, nearly kicking Luna’s head off.

“Oy, heathen, watch it!” she shouts before realizing that she just yelled at Lexa instead of Anya. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were Anya.” Lexa just shrugs, straightening herself up and sidling up next to her other roommate. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve been better,” she frowns, resting her head on Luna’s shoulder. Between her two roommates, Luna is by far the most empathetic. Her girlfriend, on the other hand, tends to dish out the tough love.

“Is Anya giving you grief?” Luna asks, not even giving Lexa a chance to respond before yelling into the kitchen, “Babe, stop giving Lexa grief! She’s mourning!”

“She shouldn’t be mourning, she should be letting me kick Costia’s ass for that shit!” Anya growls, the protector in her becoming very clear as she sits down on the arm of the couch. “I mean, what did that note say, exactly? I know you have it memorized.”

“‘Dear Lexa, I don’t love you anymore. I’m moving out, please don’t look for me. Best, Costia,’” Lexa recites, her cheeks going red at how well Anya knows her.

“Oh come on,” Anya whines, “that’s the worst thing ever! What did Clarke and Raven have to say about it?” Lexa casts her eyes downward, observing the swirling patterns intently with her brows furrowed.

“You didn’t tell them?” Luna catches on immediately, looking at her girlfriend over Lexa’s head. “Oh my gosh, she didn’t tell them.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Anya asks, her tone softening drastically. The two women know that if Lexa hasn’t told Clarke, then it’s much more serious than they anticipated.

“Clarke is having problems with Finn, I didn’t want to bother her,” Lexa shrugs as if it makes perfect sense. “And Raven is… well, Raven.”

“You should tell Clarke. You know she wouldn’t judge,” Luna nudges her a little. Lexa smiles weakly and stands up, excusing herself up to her room. She found the note in her and Costia’s apartment almost a week ago, and she’s been moving her things back into Anya and Luna’s apartment ever since. She tried to stay at her old place the first night, but she ended up cuddling Costia’s old pillow and sobbing into it, which Anya found to be incredibly off-putting when she showed up the next morning. Lexa’s never been the type to overshare, but she’s starting to get a nagging feeling in her gut because she hasn’t called Clarke since she came home to a folded piece of paper on her counter. Clarke’s been Lexa’s best friend since middle school, when they both ended up in the nurse's office after a very messy game of kickball. Lexa can’t recall a time where something this big happened in her life and she told someone else before Clarke, so she flops down on her bed face first and pulls her phone out of her back pocket. She presses the phone icon next to the blonde’s contact picture, one of Clarke ruffling her hair with a goofy grin taking over her features.

“Sexy Lexy, what can I do for you?” Clarke’s voice rings through the phone after two rings. Lexa can hear movement on the other side, a crackling sound as if Clarke was rubbing the phone’s mic against fabric.

“I, uh, I have to tell you something,” Lexa mumbles, biting down on her bottom lip.

“Okay, shoot,” she replies, the sound ceasing, signaling to Lexa that the blonde is finally still.

“Costia and I broke up.”

“Wait, what?” Clarke gasps. “Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah,” Lexa stammers, “she left me a note last week and-”

“She left you a note?” Clarke interrupts. “After five years together, after buying an apartment together, all she could do was leave you a note? What a fucking coward.”

“Clarke, it’s okay-”

“No it’s not,” she cuts her off again, which is abnormal for Clarke. She’s usually a very good listener, and almost never has this strong of a reaction to Lexa’s life problems. “My Lex deserves better,” her tone softens to one that’s sickeningly sweet, Lexa’s nickname flowing off her tongue like drizzling honey.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Lexa keeps her acknowledgement simple, afraid that any more talk of Costia might cause her voice to betray her.

“Hey, do you wanna come over? I know you’re probably sick to death of those girls. Raven and Octavia are away for the weekend, so we can have the apartment to ourselves,” Clarke offers, somehow already knowing that Lexa’s staying at Anya and Luna’s place.

“I’ll be over in ten.”

#

Lexa decides to walk the two blocks to her best friend’s apartment complex, since she hasn’t been outside in almost 48 hours and the weather is especially nice for March. After getting buzzed in immediately after she rang, the green eyed woman takes the elevator to the twelfth floor, her long fingers drumming nervously on the handrail. As she walks down the hall, her hands slip into the pockets of her peacoat, twiddling with her fingers where the inhabitants of the complex won’t see. Lexa barely has a chance to knock before the wooden door swings open, revealing a casually dressed Clarke, clad in dark grey sweatpants and a “nevertheless, we persist” t-shirt.

“Sorry, I’ve been waiting,” Clarke smiles, leaning one arm against the doorframe.

“Oh, sorry, am I late? I picked up some coffee on the way out of Anya’s building, I didn’t realize it would take me so long-” Lexa’s nervous rambling is cut short when Clarke tenderly wraps her arms around her, enveloping her in a warm and comforting hug. Clarke’s fingers brush nimbly through Lexa’s hair, making her green eyes flutter closed.

“What are you so nervous about?” Clarke pulls away slightly, her signature grin causing her eyes to crinkle ever-so-slightly. “It’s just me.”

“I know, I know,” Lexa shakes her head a little. “The past week, everything has just felt so… wrong.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Clarke brings a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek with the pad of her thumb. “I totally get why you didn’t tell me at first. I know I’ve been all over the place the past few weeks, and I feel terrible that I couldn’t be there for you.” Lexa finds the words catching in her throat as she stares into Clarke’s cerulean gaze, her eyes piercing into a part of her soul she didn’t even know was there.

“It’s okay,” Lexa says meekly. “I know you’ve been having problems with Finn-”

“Please, anything but Finn,” Clarke groans, shimmying out of Lexa’s loose grip and sidling back into the apartment.

“Okay, well I know you’ve been really busy doing commission work, and I didn’t want to get in the way,” Lexa changes the subject as quickly as it came up, but she can’t help but wonder why Clarke was immediate to shut the topic down when she’s usually vocal about her relationships. Very vocal.

“You’re not in the way,” Clarke looks at Lexa over her shoulder, holding up two beers, to which Lexa nods. She knows deep down she shouldn’t be drinking to forget, but what’s one beer, right? Clarke slides the bottle across the counter and Lexa grabs it just before it falls off, placing the cool bottle on the back of her neck in a sorry attempt to relieve the tension. “Incoming,” Clarke shouts and tosses a bottle opener though the air which Lexa catches with ease, brandishing the object in one hand and smiling at the Vancouver engraving. “I see you haven’t lost your softball skills,” she snickers and Lexa rolls her eyes, popping the top off and tosses the top in a perfect arc, sending it into the recycling bin with a clatter.

“You flatter me,” Lexa leans forward on her elbows, her “Clarke smile,” as her friends call it , returning for the first time in over a week. “So what’s new?”

“Well, I’ve got a big piece in the works,” Clarke begins. “It’s for this hot-shot independant contracter who, funnily enough, has the ugliest house on the planet.” Lexa stifles a laugh at Clarke’s unabashed insulting of the man paying her for her work. “He wanted something to show his wife that he loves her, so,” she gestures vaguely to a large canvas covered by a sheet across the room. Lexa quirks an eyebrow for permission and Clarke just shrugs, taking a sip of her beer to contain her nerves. Clarke is perpetually nervous when showing other people her art, especially Lexa. She’s always been a big supporter of her pursuit of art, but she still feels tension churning in her stomach as Lexa peels back the sheet, unveiling the mostly-finished painting. Lexa’s eyes widen at the organized mess of colors outlining a woman holding a silk sheet around herself. The stripes of color blend effortlessly together and surround the woman in the painting, drawing her tan skin forward and allowing the grey sheet sink to the back of the canvas.

“Clarke, this is…” Lexa trails off.

“It needs some work, I know,” Clarke sighs. “I haven’t finished shading her shoulder or the crease of the sheet-”

“Be quiet, it’s beautiful,” Lexa admonishes. “Your work… It always blows me away.”

“Thanks,” Clarke smiles.

“Is that the guy’s wife then?”

“Yeah, I asked him if she’d sit for me,” Clarke replies. “I’ve always liked painting the female form. Gives me an excuse to observe” Lexa tenses ever-so-slightly at the blonde’s nonchalant comment. As far as the five of them know, Clarke is the only one who’s straight, but Lexa’s always had her suspicions. They did share one drunken kiss during a round of truth or dare sophomore year, one that the green eyed woman still feels ghosting her lips, but Clarke’s been dating any man with a pulse ever since, so she’s never had a chance to follow up on her theory. Not that she wants to.

“It looks good,” Lexa swallows, not sure how else to veer away from where Clarke slyly directed the conversation. “I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it, but I’m always here for you regarding Finn.”

“I know you are,” Clarke approaches her and sets a hand on her arm, “and I’m thankful, but he’s out of town and I’m trying to enjoy the lack of nagging in my ear. Would you be opposed to eating junk food in front of the TV and cuddling all night?”

“Who could say no to that?” Lexa shakes her head fondly and Clarke pumps a fist in the air, proceeding to rattle off a list of snacks they “just have to have.”

#

After spending half an hour in the local grocery store, Clarke running around like child grabbing everything with a ridiculous caloric intake, and Lexa looking over her shoulders to make sure her best friend didn’t run into anything, they finally approach the register. Once they place their items on the belt, Lexa offers to pay and hands the older woman working the register her card before Clarke has a chance to say anything, so instead she throws an arm over Lexa’s shoulder, brushing through the thick strands of hair.

“You two make a beautiful couple,” the lady comments with a kind smile.

“Oh, we’re not-” Lexa starts but the words catch in her throat when Clarke slips her hand into Lexa’s.

“Thank you so much,” Clarke smiles widely, her gaze shifting between the cashier and Lexa’s confused expression. She gives the green eyed woman’s hand a little squeeze, which does little to appease Lexa’s rampant confusion.

“How long have you ladies been together?”

“Since high school,” Clarke replies without even thinking about it. “We were best friends first, but we both eventually realized what we really wanted.” Lexa’s jaw drops at the darkened look in Clarke’s blue eyes.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” she says moreso to Lexa, handing her back her credit card. “You two have a great evening.”

“Thanks, you too,” Lexa mumbles and uses the grocery bags as an excuse to let go of Clarke’s hand, her palm sweating out of sheer stress as supposed to heat. She grabs the bags as quickly as possible and rushes out to Clarke’s car, leaving the blonde standing dumbfounded at the conveyor belt. Clarke takes a minute to think about what the hell she just did, and her head quickly falls into her hands. What was I thinking? She finally unfreezes and makes a beeline for the door, rushing to the car after her best friend.

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke jogs after the brown eyed woman, who is loading the groceries into the trunk. “Hey, I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I guess my imagination got the best of me.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa sighs, turning around and leaning back on the car, “I was just surprised, that’s all.” Clarke just smiles at her before slipping into the driver’s seat, leaving Lexa to wonder why Clarke’s little stunt affected her so much.

#

“Clarkie, we’re back!” Raven shouts as she comes crashing into the apartment the next afternoon. Lexa had just returned to Anya and Luna’s apartment to go house-hunting, insisting to Clarke that she was fine to do it alone.

“Oh God, please go back,” Clarke groans, barely lifting her head up from the couch, her peripheral allowing her to see Octavia hanging off of Raven like an extra limb, once again exhibiting their inseparability.

“You love us,” Octavia tears herself off of her girlfriend’s body as if it was causing her physical pain before flopping down directly on top of Clarke, the blonde letting out a ridiculous grunt. “How was your weekend, Griff?”

“It was good,” Clarke grits out before she shoves Octavia off of her, sending the dark haired woman rolling onto the floor. “I saw Lexa.”

“Wait, you did?” Raven overhears from the kitchen. “When?”

“She came over yesterday, in the evening, and then she left a few hours ago,” she replies, sitting up after she realizes that she’s going to have to explain the story to her nosy roommates. “Her and Costia broke up.”

“No way,” Raven sits back down next to the blonde, a glass of orange juice in hand. “What happened? I thought they were doing well.”

“I have no idea,” Clarke sighs. “She didn’t really want to get into it, but I do know that she only left a note.”

“Seriously?” Octavia gapes. “What a dick move.”

“I know,” Clarke nods and snatches the orange juice from her friend’s hand, taking a large gulp before Raven smacks her upper arm and takes it back.

“Did you tell her about Finn?” Octavia blurts out and Raven shoots her a silencing glare.

“No, I didn’t,” Clarke bares her teeth ever-so-slightly at Octavia. “She had plenty of her own shit to sift through. I offered to go look at apartments with her today and I was going to talk to her about it then, but she said she could do it alone.”

“Sounds like you’re making excuses to me,” Raven raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“Piss off,” Clarke rolls her eyes and gets up from the couch, stomping down the hall into her room and slamming the door behind her. The blonde rests her head against the door, lightly banging against it in an attempt to force the whirlwind of thoughts out of her brain. She eventually pulls out her phone and clicks on Messages, then on Finn’s contact, scrolling through their messages from a few days ago.

Clarke [19:21] i just can’t believe you would cheat on me

Finn [19:48] I’m not cheating on you.

Clarke [19:48] yeah, not anymore, but you were and we both know it

Finn [20:12] You have no proof.

Clarke [20:12] it’s not about proof, it’s about the fact that if you’ve been faithful, you should be denying it vehemently instead of saying i can’t prove it

Finn [20:22] I’m not going to keep doing with this you.

Finn [20:23] You want the truth? Fine, I cheated on you.

Finn [20:23] We’ve been together for six months and you’ve never put out. And Bellamy said he had the same problem with you!

Clarke [20:24] you talk to bellamy about me? are you serious? fuck you

Finn [20:31] Yeah, fuck you too.

Finn [20:32] Don’t message me again. I’m done.

Clarke tosses her phone onto her bed and soon follows its path, screaming half-heartedly into the pillows. She lays there thinking about her status with Finn for who knows how long until there’s a hesitant knock on the door.

“Octavia, you and Raven can both fuck off,” Clarke shouts at the door, making no move to get up.

“Uh, it’s me,” Lexa’s timid voice is muffled by the door.

“Shit,” she mutters and opens her bedroom door, revealing a formally-dressed Lexa with her hair in an intricate set of braids.

“Raven called, she said you needed me for something?” Lexa’s adorable smile never fails to cheer Clarke up, and she can’t even muster up enough anger to be mad at Raven for calling Lexa while she was busy.

“I’m sorry, I know you were out doing something, I didn’t ask her to-”

“I know you didn’t,” Lexa chuckles, “Clarke Griffin never asks for help. And besides, you helped me yesterday, so I’ll help you today.” Lexa invites herself into Clarke’s room, kicking off her heels and hanging her jacket on one of the wall hooks before sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the space next to her. “C’mere, sit.” The blonde pads shyly over to the bed, sitting cross-legged facing her best friend.

“What’s up?” Clarke asks lightly, her eyes faltering away from Lexa’s powerful gaze. She’s afraid that if she stares into the green orbs for any longer than she has to, she’ll completely lose herself and let Lexa see all of her, though for a moment, Clarke wonders what’s so wrong with that.

“What happened with Finn?” Lexa inquires, her voice just above a whisper. Clarke bows her head and trains her eyes on the carpet, reluctant to share the incident that she finds embarrassing with her best friend. “Hey, you can tell me,” Lexa places a reassuring hand on Clarke’s knee. “I don’t judge.”

“We- He broke up with me,” Clarke finally looks up at her best friend. “He was cheating on me, and then he had the nerve to dump me. All because I confronted him.” Clarke chokes on the last few words and a few tears spring from the corners of her eyes.

“Oh, honey,” the brunette sighs, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist, the two molding together, the feeling reminiscent of coming home after a long day. Clarke eventually stops supporting herself enough to sit up as she cries, sending both of them tumbling back on the bed, but conforming to each other just as easily. Lexa’s nimble fingers run through blond locks, whispering sweet nothings into Clarke’s ear as she falls asleep.

“I’m here. It’s okay, I’m here.”

#

An obnoxious knock at the door wakes both the women up from their spontaneous evening nap. Clarke groans and lifts her head off of Lexa’s stomach, untangling their legs and sitting up straight. Lexa finds herself shivering at the loss of warmth, reaching blindly around the space beside her for her best friend. The door swings open and reveals a dumbfounded and yet smirking Raven.

“You two do know that it’s gone nine o’clock, right?” Raven asks rhetorically, picking up a stray pillow from the floor and chucking it precisely at Lexa’s torso. “Woods, you babysitters are here.” Clarke hears laughing in the living room, Anya’s distinct cackle ringing out and causing Clarke to shoot up from the bed and jog down the hall.

“Look who it is,” Luna comments when the blonde appears in the wide doorway.

“Griffin decided to show up,” Anya jokes, taking a bite of the pile of food on her plate. Octavia, Anya and Luna all sit gathered around the dining room table, with six places set. Clarke is suddenly hit with the reminder that the six of them were supposed to have dinner together tonight, since it’d been a few weeks since they all saw each other.

“Oh shit,” Clarke gasps. “I totally forgot that was today.” Clarke slides down in the chair next to Luna, the older woman starting a conversation about Clarke’s art. Meanwhile, Raven is mulling over what she just walked in on. Her best friends, that she’s known since high school, tangled up in each other halfway down the bed. The mechanic has always had her suspicions about the two of them, and now that they’re both single…

“Anya!” Raven yells down the hall for her friend. “Come here, I have an idea.”

[shadows-of-the-night11]

So you asked for angst?

Ok, so the thing I was discussing with @kalex-corner *sends kiss* you know, I love you. Goes something like this and I don’t know if you’re ready but @ownyourstage and @charis-chan asked so, here we go again. *grabs the kleenex box*

I’ve noticed that there’s a thing that we usually don’t touch in the fandom. And that’s Alex’s mortality. There are a couple of fics where it’s touched and it’s beautiful. But we don’t go there if we can avoid it. We usually find a way to make Alex immortal or somewhat like Kara. Let it be with a blood ritual, with the bond between them, making Alex some sort of superhero, getting Barry’s help *coughs*. But we don’t kill her and we don’t approach the subject when we can fill our little hearts with fluff, smut, and this amount of second hand embarrassment that only our girls can provide.

So I dared to wonder, what happens if Alex doesn’t die in a mission? What happens if they get to live together and be in love?

Kara is not immortal but she’s not human either. She could stop growing, ageing when she’s 30. She could be 25 forever and no one would know because the change between 25 and 27 is not that much. But when she’s 40? When she’s 50 and still looking like 25 or 30? So I came to the conclusion that she couldn’t work for CatCo for that long. Someone would notice at some point. So no matter how much she loves her job, she can’t keep it forever. 

Her whole life would start to change but the major change would come with Eliza’s death. It would remind her that humans are eternal, that they don’t live as long as she does. That she can be Alex’s shield and still, she can’t protect her from death. It will happen at some point. Even if Alex is relatively young. Her wrinkles will contrast against Kara’s smooth skin. She won’t be an agent forever and Kara will have to learn to be on her own out there, with the DEO covering her back, but not Alex.

Now, they have a beautiful life. They’re happy together. Their bond is strong and Kara stays till the end because no matter what, she loves Alex with all her heart. That never changes, right? Don’t we all love that? Don’t we all think their love is unbreakable and eternal? We totally do.

But the day comes when Alex is lying on a hospital bed, her hair silver and her eyes just as hazel and just as mischievous as always. Kara is there day by day, telling her stories about Krypton. About the days of badass Agent Danvers and even going back to that one time that Alex got turned into an otter.

Alex chuckles, her face tired but her eyes reflect the love she has for Kara. And then Alex knows, she knows when the moment is there and she asks Kara to tell her about the time they both realized they were in love. She asks Kara to hold her because suddenly Alex is cold, too cold.

Kara feels the moment too, through their bond (pretty useful, right?). She complies and holds her wife, she chuckles with the memory but it sounds more like a broken sob because Rao, she’s not ready. She’s smiling even when the tears start falling. They recall their story from the beginning and they get to their first kiss, to the first time they said “I love you” and it meant more than that. When those words meant everything.

Alex closes her eyes then. Hides her face on Kara’s neck and whispers that she knew their love would survive everything. She tells Kara how happy she made her. And Kara shakes her head because Alex is saying goodbye and it’s too soon. Kara is not ready for it. Not yet. She tries to beg Alex to stop, because Kara can’t handle it. But her throat is closed with emotion and the knot won’t go away. She can barely breathe and Alex keeps going.

Alex is asking her to make a promise. The same promise Kara made her do when Supergirl was about to die while taking Fort Rozz away from Earth. The promise to be happy, to do all the things she wanted to do but being with Alex never allowed her to even try. And Kara repeats Alex’s words like a mantra “I can’t.” Because when her world fell, Alex was there. And when Alex is gone, what is left?

By this point the world is so different from what it used to be. When Alex dies, Eliza is gone. Cat Grant too. Bruce Wayne left as well. He was a hero but never immortal. Clark and Kara still turn on the batsignal once per year, the day he died. Probably some of her friends are gone too, like James and Winn. Maybe Lucy too. Oliver? Gone. Barry? Probably gone too. He’s a metahuman but still so human. And who knows? Maybe he dies while being a hero, he’s fast but doesn’t have impenetrable skin. The world is not what Kara remembers. Her world is Alex, and she’s dying.

Kara is crying silently, feeling how Alex is slipping away while she whispers how sharing her whole life with Kara was the best thing she could have asked for and how happy they were together. Kara’s senses narrow until everything she can feel is Alex. The heat of her body. The smell that is purely Alex, the sweet scent that didn’t change through the years. The sound of her labored breathing and the soft beating of her heart. Slower, smaller with every passing second.

Then Alex is talking again. Two soft and short sentences: “I love you, Kara” and “El Mayarah.” Then? Silence. The machine next to them is making this high pitched sound but it’s nothing when Alex is not longer there and Kara can’t find the heartbeat that grounded her to this world for years and years. Alex’s heart finally stopped and Kara’s worlds did too.

She’s holding Alex, crying desperately, whispering her love to someone that can’t hear her anymore. She’s crying like she never did for Krypton. The pain is too much, her eyes are burning and she doesn’t care if her true nature is exposed at the moment. When the nurse enters, he doesn’t see Kara Danvers mourning the death of a loved one. He sees Supergirl crying over the only loved one that healed her wounds so long ago. And Kara, with red eyes from her heat vision and tears running down her face, sends Alex towards Rao’s light. Her body is still there, but her soul finds its way across the universe to find Alura, Zor-El and Astra. They welcome her with a gentle smile and call her “The brave one.” She was always braver than Kara, after all. Maybe braver than all of them.

When Kara finally gets out of there, Superman finds her and she cries quetly on his chest. Because maybe he can’t understand her pain for Krypton but he can understand this. He lost Lois too. However, Kara is not collapsing until Diana holds her.

Diana is like a mother that knows the pain of several wars. Someone that has lived enough to see many worlds in a same planet. Someone that lost her only love so long ago. And someone strong enough to hold a Kryptonian crashing without a pod.

Kara falls to her knees, like a Goddess isn’t supposed to. But the world fails to see that she isn’t a deity. She’s just Kara; a lost alien. The only person that saw her like that, the only person that understood every little thing about her, is gone.

But she keeps going, she probably lives in Gotham for some time. The bright colors of her suit contrasting against the dark city, but no one really cares. There’s no Joker and she has time to mourn. When she misses Alex too much, she goes up, above the clouds. She talks with the stars, with Alex. And she knows that some day, Kara is not sure how long until then, she’s going to be there, knocing on Heaven’s door. And Alex will be there, waiting for Kara and only then she will feel whole again.

Because by missing Alex she’s not doing other thing than missing a part of herself. But one day, they will meet again.

Inspired by this

[jade4813]

p1. Me again, so as no to just criticize: I thought the observation that lots of SB impetus for shipping is rooted in being against Iris rather than for their own ship is spot on. I've noticed in a lot of their communications it's more about CS taking Barry away from Iris, than about CS having him. They cannot talk about their own ship without mentioning that 'because B/I have no chemsitry, or is 'boring and their option would be more exciting'.

P2/ they ship SB because they think in comparison SB is better than WA, but that's a terribly shaky ground to have as a ship. I think that's the reason why they're fine with any other white woman. It's about winning one over on Iris. I've never read a single WA fanfic that bashes CS (though I can't say for sure they don't exist). But from what I hear SB fanfics have lots of anti Iris sentiment.

---

Well, I certainly think there is a pretty common phenomenon of people shipping as much due to being anti-another ship as they are pro-the ship they’re shipping. I never got THAT into it because I was also hardcore Lois and Clark, even when Lois wasn’t there, but in early days of Smallville, I was a Chlark shipper to the extent that I really couldn’t stand the Clana ship and Chlark was, at the time, the better possible short-term alternative to me. If Lois hadn’t come in and they’d introduced Lori Lemaris, I would probably have shipped it to the same extent and for the same reasons, assuming it wasn’t even more of a train wreck than I perceived Clana to be. (And the second Lois came on the show, any other potential short-term ship would have been forgotten by me. Immediately.)

As for the fanfic...I have also not seen any WA fics that bash CS, though I wouldn’t bet my life there are none out there. And I certainly have seen several that bash Iris. (I’ve also seen Barry/Reader fics that bash Iris.) But I think there’s a pretty clear reason for that.

To write a story where WA is together and endgame and Barry loves Iris more than anyone else he ever has or ever will and so on and so forth, you don’t HAVE to bash CS. Or any other character. You don’t have to get her out of the way. You don’t have to explain why he spent years convinced CS was the love of his life but now he’s realized it’s Iris. There can be 3 million fanfics written about Westallen as depicted on the CW Flash series, picking up directly and seamlessly where the S3 finale left off or as interludes between episodes we’ve already seen in any given season, and if people wanted to, not a single ONE of them would even have to MENTION CS, let alone bash her. And they would still make sense within the universe that has been set up on the series, as logical continuations of the story that has already been told.

Simply speaking, you just can’t do that with SB. You may not have to bash Iris, per se - kill her, make her into a harpy, etc. but at the very LEAST, if you wanted to write a direct continuation that would be a logical progression of where the story could go, you would have to explain why Barry no longer loves (or I suppose if you wanted to spin it, “thinks he loves”) Iris. You might not have to spend chapters on it, but you would have to have some sort of explanation why he’s always been head over heels in love with Iris and why he would suddenly turn to Caitlin after three years and be like, “Oh, wait! I realized I actually love her!”

(The alternative is, as many do, never mentioning Iris by pretending nothing that has ever happened between Barry and Iris actually happened. Which is what you get with fanfics like the ones I used to see in S2, where CS would be sobbing in grief after the death of JG/HZ and Barry would hug her and then they’d start making out and realize they’re actually in love with each other and everything else would be forgotten because now they’re happy together. It doesn’t exactly fit as a logical course the show could or would take, but at least it doesn’t bash Iris. It just pretends entire major storylines - and characterization and logical character development - don’t exist. But not every fanfic HAS to follow rules of characterization or storylines or development. Sometimes they can just exist to scratch an itch.)

But if you wanted to write a story that would be a logical continuation of the canon we’ve been given, since there is not a single damn thing or even hint of a moment within the canon that would so much as breathe a possibility that Barry would ever have reason to or ever would turn to Iris and be like, “You know what? Naaaaah...” You would have to write a story where SOMETHING happened to cause him to change THAT fundamentally. And that means Iris dies or becomes a harpy or SOMETHING. With time and effort and creativity, it COULD be done without bashing Iris, if you genuinely liked her character enough. But for the most part, it’s easiest to just write a story where Barry suddenly realizes what a bitch Iris is and bails. (And if you’re writing an SB fic, you probably don’t want to spend a lot of time doing an in-depth analysis of what causes WA to not work. You want to get to the SB part.)

And also...WA fans don’t have to analyze CS as a bitch, because she’s not a threat to their ship. CS could have never existed on the show, and the impact it would have on the WA ship? Zero. Zip. Removing her from the story may change some things, but it would have NO impact on how WA was told, it wouldn’t make the probability of WA being together happen any sooner or any later. I can think of maybe...a half dozen to a dozen scenes, tops, that would have to be rewritten because the absence of CS would even change the DIALOGUE between WA. 

Remove IW from the show and that WOULD fundamentally impact SB. All those scenes where they bonded in the first season because Barry was talking about Iris and Caitlin about Ronnie and how much they loved other people? All would have to be changed. SB still might not happen, but the possibility that it COULD would suddenly be a good deal greater. If for no other reason than Barry would currently not be engaged. Hell, he might even be single. He almost certainly wouldn’t be absolutely and wholeheartedly in love to a degree it’s clear no other ship has so much as a chance.

Iris is very much a very present and very real roadblock to any fantasy ship of Barry and ANY other character. People CAN ship an opposing ship without vilifying Iris, but if you see Iris as standing in the way of the ship you want, you HAVE to vilify her. Because if she isn’t as terrible as you tell yourself she is, what hope do you have that Barry will ever see her the way you do and bail on her to end up with the girl you want him with?

[phanfic--central]

Adored by Him

A/N: So this fic is inspired by the song "Adored by Him" by Dodie Clark. Yeah that's really it… 

Warnings: Swearing but that's normal.

Word Count: 2, 428

 Your POV 

I honestly never expected any of this to happen. When I became friends with Dan, I did think he was handsome and funny. But I didn't think I would fall for him as fast as I did. I always pushed away the feelings until they asked if I wanted to move in with them. Being around him 24/7 made it harder to conceal it so I just let it happen. No one knew about my feelings, except Phil, who figured out a year ago. I always expected the feelings to just go away but they didn't.

But then she happened. Allison was Dan's most recent girlfriend. They've been dating for many months now, and he was absolutely smitten (cheeky Dodie reference again) with her. He never spoke about how he felt about her, but I was able to tell. The way he looked at her with adoring eyes, and smile at the mere mention of her name. I don't blame him though. She was beautiful, with her butterscotch hair and her smile that could shine brighter than the sun, I bet anybody would fall her easily. She was literally perfect, and I was just…well me. It was easy to figure out how she made Dan's soul practically glow, and it hurt. A lot.  

I won't hate you but oh it stings,

How does it feel to be adored by him? 

It was hard to hate Allison. She was super nice, and had the same sense of humor as Dan. Plus, she makes him happy. That's what matters, right?

I was sitting on the couch, watching my favorite movie with Phil. It was raining outside so we decided to dedicate the day to watching a bunch of movies. Phil and I were cuddled up under a blanket, eating popcorn. It was relaxing to say the least. Dan was out at Allison's house so, of course, Phil questioned me about my feelings.

"Are you ever going to tell him, Y/N?" Phil asked, nudging my arm with his elbow.

I pulled up the blanket to my chest, and sighed heavily. "Philly we've talked about this before. I'll only ruin things so-" 

"You should tell him. It's best to get it out there." Phil gave me a sympathetic look. It's like he knew Dan wouldn't return the feelings but he didn't want to keep any secrets. To be honest I'm surprised he didn't tell Dan by now. 

"Phil, look-"

Phil and I jumped off the couch when we heard a loud bang, and stumbling coming from downstairs. We exchanged confused glances, and hurried to the front door to see Dan, stumbling around the entrance of our flat.

"Hi guys!" Dan said, his speech slurred.

"Dan what the hell happened!?" Phil questioned, running up to his best friend's side and helping him take his shoes off. 

"Heh, Allison and I got in a fight. Stupid really-" He tripped over his shoes that he just took off and laughed. He looked up into my eyes and smiled. "Don't worry I'm fine." Dan pushed Phil's hand off his shoulder, and walked up the stairs by himself.

"Y/N, do you want to make sure he's okay?" Phil asked, walking up to my side as we slowly followed Dan up the stairs.

"Why?"

"Just talk to him." 

I let out another sigh, and took another glance at Dan, who stumbled into his bedroom. "Okay. I'm not telling drunk Dan anything though." I pointed my finger at Phil, and let out a small laugh to lighten the mood. Phil shook his head, smacking my hand away and smiling.

"Just go." He laughed. 

I walked to the kitchen, and poured a small glass of water for Dan. I ignored the aching pain in my chest, and the tears swelling up in my eyes. I put down the glass for a moment to take a deep breath, and recollect myself. After a few minutes, I made my way towards Dan's room where I saw him softly crying. My heart broke at the sight. It pained me so much to see another girl make Dan hurt. I hated it. I walked towards Dan's bed and gave him the glass of water. 

"Here you go, sweetie." I sat at the end of his bed, waiting for his response. 

"Thank you." Dan sniffed, taking a sip of the water. 

"You want to talk about what happened?" I moved closer to him. His legs were hanging over the edge of his bed and he was staring at the cup of water in his lap.

"She doesn't trust me."  

"What do you mean?" I was right by his side after I finished the question. I tried to make eye contact with him but he was so closed off, I decided to keep a little distance.

"She thinks that I'm cheating on her with you." He lifted his head slowly and stared into my eyes. My face turned red and I stared at the ground. I felt the butterflies in my stomach go crazy, and I had to take a deep breath again to calm myself down. I looked back into his beautiful, chocolate eyes and stared in silence for a while.  

Pretty girl there's no need to fret

Because it's midnight, he's drunk, and you're the one in his head.

You don't even have to try at all. 

"I can't say I'm in love with her but I feel something…strong towards her you know? I'm not even sure if she feels the same. It's just- It hurts a lot that she doesn't even trust me. " Dan's eyes got glossy, and he stared down at his cup again. All I did was nod my head. I understood where he was coming from. Someone you may be in love with and they might not even return the feeling. How ironic. 

"I understand, Dan. But you should get some rest, then talk to her in the morning." I flashed a fake smile at Dan and stood up from his bed. I stood in front of him, and he stared into my eyes like he was searching for something.

"Thank you, Y/N. You're honestly the best." Dan put his glass down on his bedside table and got up to give me hug. I accepted it, taking in his warmth for that short moment I had. I sighed when he pulled away and sat in his bed. "You want to…stay with me for a bit?" He asked, not making eye contact. I gave him a weak smile, and nodded, sitting next to him as he got comfortable underneath the blanket.

I lost track of time, waiting for Dan to fall asleep. I stared at his sleeping figure for god knows how long, I felt like a complete creep. He looked so peaceful with his head resting in my lap it was hard not to. I gently stroked his hair as he slowly fell asleep, his arms wrapped around my body as his head rested on my leg. I checked the time on his phone, 1:00 am. I noticed his lock screen, expecting it to be a picture of him and Allison. But instead it was a picture of him, me, and Phil at VidCon on our day off. I smiled at it, but quickly my smile faded when a text from Allison popped up. I decided to ignore it, and finally leave Dan's side. 

I crept towards the kitchen, hoping not to wake Dan or Phil up. However, to my surprise Phil was standing in the kitchen, drinking some tea while leaning against the counter. 

"So, how did it go?" He asked, staring at me. 

"She doesn't trust him apparently. Allison thinks he's cheating on her with…me." I sighed. All my emotions that I've been holding in all night were surfacing, and I wasn't going to let it happen. "Um, he's asleep now. He asked me to stay with him for a little while and I lost track of time because he was…uh-" 

"Cuddling with you?" Phil flashed me a smile, but it faded when he looked into my eyes and noticed the tears coming up. He gave me a sympathetic look and walked closer to me. "You should just tell him so he knows. So you don't have to keep hurting. He will understand, Y/N." 

"I know Phil. It's just- it hurts seeing them together so much. And of course I want him to be happy! But that selfish part of me wants him to be happy with me. God, it fucking hurts." I felt a warm streak roll down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away, looking away from Phil. 

"Y/N." I knew he was trying to make me look at him, but I hated being this vulnerable. "Y/N." I gave in and stared into Phil's icy blue eyes. It was full of sympathy, and I couldn't take it anymore. 

"Phil, don't look at me like that please. It's only making me feel worse." I felt more tears surfacing and let out a heavy sigh. I heard Phil mumble a small apology and he embraced me in a warm, loving hug. At that point I finally broke. I started sobbing into his shirt, with every sob he would hold me tighter, and tell me everything was going to be okay. He gently ran his hands through my hair. I pulled away from Phil, and sniffed, gently rubbing my nose. 

"Y/N, I know it hurts but-" Phil paused in the middle of his sentence and stared behind me. I looked up to Phil, then turned around to see what he was looking at. There was Dan, his hair curly and disheveled, and his empty glass in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Dan asked, noticing my red, puffy eyes and the tear stains on Phil's shirt. He looked into my eyes and I could tell he was concerned.

"N-Nothing." I lied.

"Obviously there's something wrong, Y/N, tell me." Dan walked over to the counter and placed his cup on the surface. I looked up to Phil, and nodded, signaling for him to give us some alone time. When Phil left the room, Dan pulled me into a tight hug, and for the second time that night I broke down. "Want to talk to me about what happened?"

I pulled away from Dan and stared at the floor. "It's not really about w-what happened. It's more…what's happening." I let out a fake chuckle. Dan shot me a confused look, and backed up to lean against the counter.

"Tell me what's going on or so help me god Y/N I will-"

"Okay. Um. I guess."

"Spit it out, please." Dan tilted his head, giving me a worried look. God I can't handle this anymore.

"Okay, you don't even have to respond to this…but I really need it out in the open." I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, and I took deep unsteady breath. "I just need you to know that…that" I stared into Dan's eyes and I could feel my heart aching all over again. I felt tears pouring out of my eyes and saw Dan's tall figure making his way over to comfort me again but I pulled away.

"Please don't. You're just going to make this harder." "Y/N tell me. Please, you're making me worried." I realized that Dan and I were standing really close, closer than we usually are. I looked into his beautiful eyes like it was the last time then stared at the floor.

"I think I'm in love with you." I mumbled. 

"What? Speak up, love." Dan said softly. 

"Fuck." I ran my fingers through my hair and avoided eye contact at all costs. "I think I'm in love with you and it fucking stings so much to see you and Allison together. I mean I don't blame you, or her. Allison is like the definition of perfect. I mean she makes me look blind with how adventurous she is and you look at her like the world is fucking perfect. It's so stupid to think that I could compare to her. But god, do I wish it was me in your arms instead of her. Don't even get me started about how I feel about you because there is too much history to even go over." I shook my head, staring at the ground, watching my tears hit the white kitchen tiles.

"Y/N, can you look at me please?" Dan was still speaking softly. 

"Dan I told you, you don't have to even say anything. You could just simply ignore it and leave, I'll get the point." 

"Look at me, Y/N." Dan said, more stern but still full of care. I rolled my eyes and stared into his eyes. Even though my vision was blurred I could still see the small glimmer in his eyes. "I'm sorry for-"

"Dan I told you, you don't have to do this." 

"Y/N, we need to talk about this. We can't just ignore it."

"Well I've been ignoring it for 3 years now, so I think I'm good. I know the speech you're about to give me and I just…" I let out a muffled sob into my hand, and looked back up to him. "Please I can't take this right now." 

"Please let me just-" 

"Dan, I'm so sorry I shouldn't have said anything. I really need fresh air…I'll be back in a bit." 

Dan looked over to the clock on the oven, and slowly moved towards the door. "It's 1:20, Y/N you can't go outside alone." 

"Well I am, so please move." Dan was blocking the doorway. I made eye contact with him and got lost in his eyes again. I felt like time slowed down when we stared into each other’s eyes, but I broke the contact because I felt more tears coming. Dan reluctantly walked up to me, opening his arms to give me a hug. But instead, I pulled away from him. 

"I'm so sorry." I mumbled, and ran down the stairs to the front door, putting on my shoes and coat. 

"Y/N wait-"

I left before I could hear anymore. I let the cold London air enter my lungs, as I tried to relax from what happened, and trying to decide if I should go back and face Dan, or go to a friend's house. I ultimately decided on staying outside for a while. Sitting on a park bench staring at the trees in the park as I replayed what happened through my head. 

What am I going to do?

 A/N: Second part? Or leave it there? YOU DECIDE

[gldngrl7]

Karamel Fic: Permission to Flourish (9/11)

Title: Permission to Flourish

Author: gldngrl7

Date Started: February 12, 2017

Rating: T for Teen (I know!  I can’t believe it either!)

  Author’s Notes: 

This story is the sequel to Bulletproof. Please read that one-shot before diving into this one.

Comments are welcomed, flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

So many many thanks to my those who’ve taken the time to comment: @lostin-the-desert, @anaveragegirl15, @threesilverthings88, @emarasmoak, @myfangirlinghq, @hermi1907

  Chapter 9/11

         I don't wanna live forever

               'Cause I know I'll be livin' in vain

                          And I don't wanna fit wherever

        I just wanna keep callin' your name

                 Until you come back home

         --Zayn & Taylor Swift – I Don’t Wanna Live Forever

  Resolving to return to National City and recommit her time and, more importantly, her energies to saving the people in need was one thing.  Actually doing it was another.  Her immediate reaction to arriving back in the city was to slip into a depression unlike any she’d experienced since her initial arrival on Earth.

 For six years she’d had time to think about everything that she’d thrown away that night in the bar.   Everything that she’d let go of as if it had meant nothing to her. Someone who could understand her like no one else ever would—understand her aloneness and her uniqueness.  Someone she could understand.  It could have been a chance to heal old wounds between their planets and respective cultures – a chance to find unity after a thousand years of strife.  Even if the people of their planets could never know, Kara could have found a victory in that and, in a way, been able to put Krypton finally to rest.

 Physically, he was a match to her, or at least close enough.  It took two hands to count the number of broken bones she’d given to boys she’d liked and with Mon-El…Mike…she would have never had to worry about that. Genetically, they were compatible as well.  Daxamites had once been Kryptonian, which meant…she might have been a mother one day.

 Lois had been able to have Clark’s children, but Eliza explained that what worked in one direction would most assuredly not work for her.  Cervix of Steel – not to put too fine a point on it.  Over a year after Mon-El had left, when Lois found herself pregnant with Jonathan, her mother’s discovery had been like a final kick in the teeth.

 When it came to finding him, for the last six years she’d had options.  Emails to send, a cousin to hound, internet searches to run, and newspapers to scour for information and clues.  But now…those options were spent and there were no more roads to travel down.  None but the only one open to her, and at the end of it she could see only loneliness and bitterness.

 One thought kept circling around and around in her mind and all she wanted to do was escape it.  ‘This is my life now.’

 She went through the motions though.  Going to work, investigating and writing her stories, saving cats from trees and runaway trains from collisions.  She zipped in and out, oftentimes unseen and uncelebrated, whenever remotely possible.  She became a blur, which seemed somehow appropriate.  Then, when she could, she retreated to her loft and crawled into her bed, pulling the covers over her head.  Never even bothering to turn the lights on.

 After Alex had gone six hours without communication from Kara nearly a week ago, the eldest Danvers sister had gone on high alert. Upon the younger’s mysterious return, Kara had asked Alex for some space but had told her nothing, claiming she wasn’t ready to talk about it.  Alex granted her request, but as her sister, would only honor it for so damn long.

 She had noticed the lack of smiles, the slump of her shoulders and that her bright shining eyes had turned a dull shade of denim blue.  Seeking answers on her own, she’d stumbled across something during a keyword search on the internet.  On Saturday morning, when Kara hadn’t shown up at the DEO at her regular time for a briefing on possible Dominator movements, Alex decided to take matters into her own hands.

 Quietly, Alex let herself into Kara’s apartment, finding the place uncharacteristically filthy.  The fourth-floor loft apartment had always been a little cluttered, because her sister was a pit of packrat, but this was filthy.  Empty take out containers that never quite made it to the (overflowing) garbage can, several days’ worth of dirty clothes strewn about as if they had simply been dropped, and left, where she’d removed them, and cups of half-consumed coffee as far as the eye could see.

 “Kara?” she called out, already sensing that this journey would lead to only one place.

 A person-sized lump in the middle of the bed revealed Kara’s position.  Alex could see the lump contract further into a fetal position beneath blanket as though she were trying to disappear.  Alex reached for the blanket and pulled it back.  “Last time I checked, invisibility wasn’t one of your powers.”

 “Go away,” Kara sighed, with no real fight in her voice, which Alex found more disturbing then the demand itself.  Kara reached for the comforter and took it back, tearing it in the process.  “Dammit,” came the muffled curse from beneath the goose down. Feathers flew up from the bed, slowly drifting back down on the mid-morning sunbeams streaking through the window panes.

 “You know I’m not going to do that.”  She grabbed at the blanket again and this time her sister let her pull it back.  “Talk to me.”

 “Alex,” she whined, just as she had when she was twelve and wanted to be left alone.  Alex had never been the type to leave Kara to wallow for long.

 Alex sighed.  She was going to use what she knew against her sister.  “You found him, didn’t you?” she asked.  “You found him and went to see him.”

 Kara looked at Alex, rolling her eyes back in surrender with a shuddering sigh.  Despite the depression and melancholy, she’d managed not to cry since leaving Mon-El in the hospital cafeteria.   Kara had held it all in and now the tiniest crack would be all it would take for her to shatter like a dam bursting.  “How did you know?” she sniffed.

 “Keyword search revealed unconfirmed reports of Supergirl being seen in Philadelphia.  Valor operates out of Philadelphia.  I put two and two together.  It’s first grade math, Kara.”  

 And there it went.  The dam.  Tears flowing, face crumpling, skin reddening, snot producing sobs issued forth without the slightest sign of stopping anytime soon.

 “Oh my God, Kara, what happened?  What did he do to you?” Alex asked, horrified look on her face.

 “H-he t-teaches second g-grade,” she sobbed.

 There’s not a box of tissues to be found because Kryptonians don’t get the sniffles, so Alex rushed to the bathroom and tore some toilet paper off the roll.  Thinking better of it before leaving the restroom, she turned back and manhandled the rest of the remaining roll from the dispenser.  This seemed like an entire roll situation.

 Alex handed her a wad of toilet paper and set the rest on the bedside table.  Kara wiped away the tears she was desperately trying to gain control of, while Alex retreated to the kitchen for a bottle of water.  “Blow!” she shouted over her shoulder.  “Gently.”

 She heard Kara’s honking nose from the kitchen as she twisted off the cap of the water bottle.  Grabbing a trash bin from beside the bed, she held it up for Kara to drop her tissue into and handed her the water.  “Drink,” she said.

 “Bossy,” Kara pouted.

 Alex’s eyebrows went up in silent condemnation, but Kara swallowed a gulp of water without further complaint.  When it seemed that Kara had control over her emotions once more, Alex sat down on the edge of the bed and bent down to unlace her boots.   Taking them off, she placed them neatly side by side next to the bed and twisted around. “Scooch over,” she instructed. When Kara complied, Alex climbed into the bed facing her and pulled the feather-bleeding covers over both them. “Now…start from the beginning.”

 Kara told her sister about Bruce Wayne’s accusation and her emotional breakdown in front of him and how that led the billionaire to take pity on her and send her Mon-El…Mike’s…location.  After that the entire story poured forth in fits and starts, Alex reaching back periodically for more tissues, the trash bin, and finally the bottle of water in turns, until the story was complete.

 “Second grade, huh?” Alex marveled, unable to mask the amazement on her face.

 “Right?” Kara agreed with a sniff.  After some consideration she said, “It makes sense though.”

 “How so?”

 “He always loved having fun, and you should have seen him with those kids, Alex.  He was…perfect.  He wasn’t the man I thought I remembered.  He was something more…something better.  He found himself.”  Kara sniffed again, another tear tracking down her cheek.  “What does it mean, Alex?”

 “What does what mean?”

 “He went away and got better, and I…floundered.”

 “You didn’t—“

 “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. We both know it’s true.”

 “You had the burden of guilt, Kara.  He didn’t.  You’ve never been good with guilt and you know it.  You didn’t flounder—“

 “I floundered.”

 “You didn’t flounder,” Alex continued from where she was interrupted.  “You continued to do your job, you became a proficient reporter, a job at which you’ve been promoted twice, and you’re still out there kicking ass and taking names every day even when you don’t want to. You didn’t flounder, Kara…you just didn’t give yourself permission to flourish.”

 “And he did,” she surmised.

 “I suppose he had no choice.  Good for him,” Alex said, meaning it.  For six years Alex had been of two minds on the situation. She’d known Mon-El was head over heels for Kara, anyone with eyeballs could have seen it.  But she’d also known that Kara had unintentionally rejected him in a way that would have given the strongest of hearts pause.  She’d understood his need to flee, if for no other reason than to lick his wounds.

 But he’d also gone out of his way to keep information from Kara about his whereabouts and that angered her on behalf of her hurting sister.  Kara had explained that, according to Bruce, Mon-El wanted her to forget about him, put him in the past so that she could live the life she was meant to have, as if he’d never crash landed in her city.  Alex supposed that kind of thinking might make sense to someone who didn’t realize just how much they’d mattered.  He’d thought himself expendable, regrettable and forgettable, and none of that was ever the case.  At least not to someone with a heart like Kara’s.

 “I’ve spent so much time looking for him…I don’t know what to do now,” Kara’s denim blue gaze was nearly overwhelmed by the crinkling of her brow.

 “You get up off the mat, is what you do.  It’s what we always do.  You start by taking a shower.  Please, for love of all that’s holy, take a shower,” she joked.  Alex was rewarded with a sniff and an upturn of one side of Kara’s mouth.  “Then you clean this place up, because this pig sty is not like you.  You’ll feel better once you and your place are both clean.”

 “Then what?”

 “Keep breathing, keep moving forward.  Just keep…being you.  I know it’s hard and I know you loved him and that love changed you. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. But letting that love break you…doesn’t honor what you meant to each other. And no matter what he said or did, I don’t believe he’d want that for you…not for a single second.  Give yourself permission to flourish, Kara.  I don’t know what life has in store for you, honey, but I have to believe that someone with a heart as loving and as strong and as giving as yours will find happiness.”

 “But I wasn’t,” she lamented.  “Not with him.  I wasn’t loving or giving with him.  I was unloving and I…took from him when I should have given.”

 “Stop rehashing the past, Kara.  You have to let it go and find a way to forgive yourself.” Alex stroked her sister’s cheek wiping away a stray tear with her thumb. “You’re going to have a long life…longer than me—“

 “I don’t want—“

 “Much longer than me,” Alex continued.  “I know you don’t like to talk about it, but there it is.  You’re going to have a long life.  He’s going to have a long life.  You have no idea what that life will have in store for you.  Hey, you might even get a do-over one day.  All you can do, Kara, is to try and be worthy of it when it comes. To be better than you were before. Braver.”

 Alex continued to stroke Kara’s cheek until her sister drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the tears and the emotional purge at her sister’s urging.  Lulled by her sister’s soft breathing, Alex dozed off as well.

 When Kara awoke, the sun was beginning its downward descent outside the window.  Alex was gone but in her place was a note on the pillow.  “Clean this mess up!  Call me if you need me.  I’ll check on you later.  Love you!”

 Kara climbed out of bed, unable to ignore the need to pee for one moment longer.  Her face felt stiff from the residue of her salty tears and her lack of hygiene made her feel as though she needed to be peeled like a banana.  A long, hot shower was in order, where she cleaned every nook and cranny until she felt like a new person.  Or at least, she felt better when she was clean, just as Alex promised.

 After drying her hair, she changed into a ratty hooded sweatshirt and a pair of clingy yoga pants.  The perfect outfit for a spring cleaning of her loft.

 She began by emptying the trash and then filling even more trash bags with empty fast food cartons, old coffee cups, both empty and still half full. And she didn’t stop there.  She threw away junk mail she hadn’t time to sift through in weeks, as well as old drafts of stories that were redlined but never made it to Snapper’s desk because other stories took precedence. Pamphlets she’d picked up somewhere for research went into the garbage.  She gathered the dirty clothes strewn throughout her apartment, separated the colors from the whites and put a load in the washing machine.

 She cleaned out her refrigerator and her pantry cabinets, throwing out anything that was even remotely expired.  Kara emptied all of her canned goods into a box for donating to the local soup kitchen.  Starting fresh became the theme of the day and boxing her pantry food up made it easier to spray and wipe down her cabinets.

 Kara rolled up her rug and tossed it on the couch, allowing her to sweep the floor and then, on her hands and knees, she worked her way across every inch of her floor with a buffer and wood polish.  By the time she finished that task, she was able to change out her first load of laundry for her second, placing he first load into the dyer.

 In her bedroom, she sat on the bed, stuffing down feathers back into her comforter and mending the tear in the cloth with tiny stitches until it was almost as good as new.  She changed her sheets and pillowcases for fresh ones, making the bed with tight corners, even placing the throw pillows at the head of the bed were they belonged, but so rarely ended up.

 The bathroom floor got the toothbrush treatment, as she cleaned every last grain of dirt from the grout of the 2-inch by 2-inch mint green tiles.  Her shower was blasted with mildew cleanser whether it needed it or not, and she took her (old) toothbrush to those tiles too.  She threw out old makeup, deciding that she could use a trip to her favorite cosmetics outlet for a whole new set.

 When both loads of laundry were dry, she put the living room back to rights and sat on the sofa to fold it all, just catching the beginning of an old Jerry Lewis movie on the American Classic Comedies channel. They were showing a Martin/Lewis marathon this weekend and currently airing was one of her favorites.  The comedian was goofy and acted on the outside how she sometimes felt on the inside, so as a child his antics had always lifted her spirits – a quality she was in dire need of right now.  Clothes quickly folded and put away, she left the television on and continued cleaning, pulling lampshades off lamps to give them each a thorough dusting.  Cleaning the loft’s windows came next and before she was done her stomach let her know that it was dinnertime.  Unfortunately, she’d cleaned out her fridge and boxed up her canned goods, so cooking dinner was out of the question until she could do some grocery shopping.

 In the kitchen, she opened her junk drawer to retrieve a series of takeout menus for cheap and speedy delivery.  After all the work she’d done, she could eat a horse, but she decided pizza was the safer choice.  About the time Kara picked up her cellphone to make the call to Luigi’s for her usual order, a light knock came on the door.  Ditching the menu she didn’t need, she walked across the room to the door, speed dialing Luigi’s and placing the phone up to her ear.  Alex must have returned to check on her, or kick her ass into gear.

 “Just in time,” she said loud enough to be heard through the door.  “I was just about to order dinner. Do you want any—“ She stopped short, dumbfounded, when she saw who stood on her doorstep.  Kara’s breath caught in her chest, the butterflies in her stomach doing loop-de-loops like stunt planes at an air show.

 “I hope you’re in the mood for pizza and pot stickers,” Mon-El said, his voice soft and maybe a little uncertain.  He stood in her hallway, boxes held in front of him like a barrier between them.  He was so handsome she had the blink away the emotion welling in her eyes and swallow the lump in her throat.

 “You’re….” she attempted, her tongue suddenly devoid of all lubrication.  “You’re here.”  Her voice was hoarse and weak.

 “I thought we could…have dinner.”  She was an absolute mess, tendrils of hair slipping free from her ponytail to create a wispy, wild halo around her face.  Her hoodie is streaked with dirt as though she’s repeatedly wiped filthy hands across it to clean them.   The knees of her yoga pants are threadbare and she smells a little like laundry detergent and bleach.  There’s a large smudge of dust or soot on her cheek, just below her right eye.

 She’s never been more beautiful.

 In a nervous gesture, Kara tugged the sleeves of her hoodie down until they almost covered the tips of her fingers.  She picked at a loose thread on the cuff of one sleeve, picking and picking until the cuff began to fray at the edges. Just like in the cafeteria, she didn’t know what to do in the face of his presence; what to say…where to begin.

 “May I…?” he gestured to her kitchen from outside the door.

 “Oh! Of course!” she exclaimed, stepping aside to make room for him to pass.  She clung to the door as he passed by her, as though it anchored her to reality.  “Come in,” she whispered as an afterthought, closing the door behind him.  Kara glanced about at her loft, thankful he hadn’t shown up even an hour earlier.

 Thankful he’d shown up at all.  His presence was a gift she could not have predicted, nor expected.

 Placing the takeout boxes on the kitchen island, Mike turned back to her, absorbing the shell-shocked expression on her face.  He felt his stomach sink inside.  Maybe this was the wrong thing, his inner demon taunted. Maybe he should have left well enough alone.  “Maybe I should have called first,” is what he said instead.  

 “It’s fine.” she breathed, still not quite believing that Mon-El was standing in her kitchen after fantasizing about it for so very long.  She always dreamed that he would come home…to her.  The last thing she wanted was to make him feel unwelcome.  “You don’t need to call.”

 “Good.  Because I think we should talk.”

[mermaeids]

shelter (chapter three)

Life during the years after Praimfaya.

CHAPTER THREE UNDER THE CUT.

Bellarke & Sea Mechanic (alternating chapters)

AU after 4x08.

WARNING: This fic is based in part off of the leaked pages of the Season 4 Finale. I filled in a lot of the blanks, but DO NOT READ if you don’t want to read possible spoilers. You have been warned.

read on ao3

Chapter Three: And Then They Were Alone

*

Because you died, I shall not rest again,      But wander ever through the lone world wide, Seeking the shadow of a dream grown vain      Because you died.

I shall spend brief and idle hours beside       The many lesser loves that still remain; But find in none my triumph and my pride;

And Disillusion's slow corroding stain      Will creep upon each quest but newly tried, For every striving now shall nothing gain      Because you died.

                                       — Vera Brittain

*

Harper’s water broke on a dark night in April.

She and Bellamy were sitting in the hallway in front of the only window when he heard her go, “Oh,” and looked down to see the pool under her feet.

“The baby’s coming!” they both shouted, and Monty came running.

By the time they got to the girls’ dorm, Raven and Emori had already gotten the bed ready.

“How far apart are your contractions?” asked Echo, helping Harper to lie down. Echo had always been a bit distant since they got up here, very out of place among people who had been her enemies on earth. But when Harper had announced her pregnancy it was quickly decided that Echo knew the most about prenatal care, and so she became something of a caretaker for the young mother.

Echo, Emori, and Monty ran around the room gathering supplies while Harper breathed heavily on the bed.

Even though they were doing their best, Bellamy still wished for Clarke. He wished that she could be here because she was trained in medicine, but also so she could witness their friend become a mother. She was missing all of this.

“We’ll do everything we know how to do,” Raven assured him, seeing the doubt on his face. “And we’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else.”

Bellamy watched as Monty and Harper shared a look of complete joy, excitement, and fear.

They had a long night ahead of them.

/

Harper was in labor for a long time. Almost too long, Raven thought, but Clarke wasn’t here to tell them if something was wrong. They just kept telling Harper to breathe, kept wiping the sweat from her forehead, and kept trying to hold on to hope.

Hours and hours later, the little baby made his presence known with a defiant cry.

They all cried. The joy was too much to bear.

After they left Harper and Monty alone with their child and the rest of them went to get some sleep, Raven found Bellamy sitting in front of the window. Today they had a view of earth, blue and gray under the sunlight.

His gaze didn’t falter as Raven sat down next to him.

Even now, surrounded by so much relief and joy, everything about Bellamy was dulled. Since Clarke’s death, Raven hadn’t seen him come back. He was here with them, breathing and talking and even laughing at times, but part of him had always been down there, on earth, where Clarke had perished.

He sniffed. “I just… I just miss her.”

Raven rested her head on his shoulder. “So do I.”

Minutes passed, but time was invisible to them. Up here in space, it was almost impossible to sense time at all.

“The night before Praimfaya,” Bellamy said, “I told her I loved her.”

Raven lifted her head and looked at him intently. A tear slid down his face, forging a path between his freckles until he wiped it from his jaw with the back of his hand.

“She… she said she couldn’t say it back,” he continued, “because she thought that she was cursed, somehow… because everyone she had ever loved had died, and she didn’t want me to die. But… but then she died. She stayed behind and now she’s gone. And I was so angry. I’m still… I’m still so mad at her. Because she died.”

Raven was crying softly now too, clutching Bellamy’s shoulder and feeling his pain.

“I wish I could make it better,” she said. “I wish I could bring her back. I wish it every damn day. But she’s not coming back, Bellamy. Us being miserable won’t change that.”

“I know I have to let her go. But I don’t know how.”

“All you can do is try. We’ll get through this.”

He shrugged and attempted a crooked smile. “We always do, don’t we?”

The air between them lightened. “Through hell and back,” Raven said.

*

(Two Years Later)

*

The landing was rough.

“Swim away, swim away,” Raven kept whispering to herself as she got them safely into the water, sweat on her brow and heart pounding in her ears, but still alive.

Once they realized they’d made it, the cabin erupted into cheers.

“We’re home!” Monty shouted, high-fiving Harper, who pressed a relieved kiss to the forehead of the squirming toddler in her arms, a little boy named Adam.

Raven glanced back at Bellamy, who had a cut on his forehead from the turbulence. He half-smiled at her. “You did it,” he said.

“Did you ever doubt I would?” Raven placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

They all swam to shore, happy to leave the rocket and their life in space to sink beneath the waves.

The day was gray. The sky was smothered in clouds, only strings of sunlight reaching through to touch the sand, which looked more like ash.

Raven fell to her knees once they reached the shore. Her leg throbbed with pain from the swim, but it was worth it to feel the sand between her fingers, to breathe the sea salt air. Inevitably, she thought of Luna. Her heart soared.

She thought she could see Luna for a second—was she standing near the tree line?—but she blinked and the vision dissipated. It worried her.

Raven’s seizures had stopped once they’d gotten to space and she could rest her mind, and she hadn’t had one for years. Did the stress from the landing bring them back? She desperately hoped that she was just exhausted, that the vision meant nothing.

Emori approached her. “You need a hand?” she said, offering hers.

Raven nodded in appreciation. Emori helped her to her feet, and together they walked across the beach.

It looked different, Raven noticed. The trees were bare skeletons, the ground barren except for a few green shrubs. She saw blue violets dotting the forest floor and smiled. There was even a faint buzz of bugs. Somehow, the earth had begun to heal itself in the five years they’d been gone.

“Where to?” she asked once they’d regrouped.

“Luna’s rig is just off this shore,” said Bellamy. He took a moment to get a grip on their surroundings before pointing diagonally through the woods. “Which means we need to go this way. We should get to the bunker by nightfall.”

We should get to Luna by nightfall, thought Raven.

/

They found Luna at nightfall.

They pried open the door to the bunker and ran down the steps. And Raven saw her. But instead of running to her like she had planned, she stopped in her tracks.

The bunker was empty except for the girl from the sea.

Luna looked like a ghost. Hers was the face of a girl who had fallen under the weight of death. Her haunted eyes told the tale of too many heartbreaks and not enough strength to pick up the pieces.

“Raven?” she said. The word rippled through the echoing bunker like a drop of black rain in the ocean. “Is that you?”

Raven’s face crumpled. “Luna,” she cried and limped as fast as she could down the rest of the stairs and across the room until they were face to face.

“Is that you?” Luna repeated in a hollow voice. There was confusion in her eyes.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here.” Raven touched her face, but Luna flinched away.

“It’s okay,” Raven whispered. She didn’t know what had happened, where everyone else had gone, or why Luna was in such a state, but right now she couldn’t think about any of that. All she cared about in this moment was that Luna was standing in front of her

Gently, as if handling a baby bird, Raven wrapped her arms around Luna’s shoulders. Slowly, the girl in her arms began to relax and returned the embrace. Raven sobbed in relief and buried her face in Luna’s shoulder, breathing in the musty scent of sweat and something like death.

But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Luna was here and Raven was back and they were together. They were together. Raven pressed a kiss against Luna's cheek, trying to quell her tears.

The others had stayed back, had given them space, but Bellamy was restless.

Once Raven and Luna had pulled away—Raven keeping a hand in hers—Bellamy said, “Where’s Octavia?”

The look on Luna’s face enough of an answer. And that’s when the world crumbled around them.

*