#I put Leonard in my Star Trek baseball hat one time

[plaudiusplants]

Okay I know this was a couple days ago, but you are logged a lot of horse things. Are they your favorite animal? (feel free to go on a long rant if you so please)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am vibrating!! Yes, horses are my best friends and favourite animals of all the ever and I love them so so much!! They're just like me fr!!! Tall kitty

Horses are the best and I've found that they're actually a lot like really tall cats!! They like to snuggle until the moment they don't, they like to cause problems on purpose, and they really like to feel like they have some control over their own situation. They are being ever so gracious in allowing you to do things that they have decided ahead of time are okay for you to do with slash to them. And, like, don't tell any horse I know that I said this, but they're kind of right. I'm (approximately) 120 lbs; any horse I ride is about ten times heavier than me, give or take. I'm not winning that tug-of-war unless the horse allows it. That physics will not track

I'm gonna start talking about anxiety here and it doesn't get really heavy anywhere but I'll put a read more button in anyway just in case 💕💕 (pictures and gushing about the horse I'm currently riding are also at the end though!)

Okay but so basically though, the way to succeed in an interaction with a horse is to assume they are scared and to let them know over and over again that you won't let scary things happen to them. Scary things include horrifying horse-eating squirrels, terrifying horse-gobbling pigeons, petrifying horse-devouring shadows, Large Noises that could have come from any of the aforementioned things, etc. I figure it's probably good strategy for prey animals to assume that basically anything can and will hurt them, but it also means that horses tend to be very spookable. I shit you not that I have ridden a gelding (boy with no balls) who spooked away from a jump because he saw his shadow right in front of the jump and thought it was dangerous

That said, obviously some breeds are going to spook more easily than others, and depending on training and background there are many many horses in the world who are very good at ignoring such terrifying things as "small children who make noise" and "leaf, blowing in the wind", and even "being the first in a line"

And as someone with a whole metric shit-ton of anxiety (now medicated, thankfully), the idea that I have to be the brave one who looks at things rationally and says "no, actually, nothing here eats horses" has always helped me a lot. If I can say that well yeah public speaking is kind of terrifying, but nothing here will eat me except socially, and I can recover from the social horrors. Probably.

Anyway the horse I'm riding now is named Gracie, just like my cat!! And for a very long time she was a brood mare, meaning she lived in the field and had babies and that was most of what she did for her life. She was trained when she was very young, but for some reason her owners decided not to put any more effort into training her, but now she belongs to my coach, so she gets to play with me! We think that whoever trained her taught her that being good meant going fast and that if she is being good that means she should be going fast? Anyway, in the last few months, she has relaxed admirably!! She enjoys the work, and she thinks that I am a Good People, and she usually stands still for me to groom her 💖💕💖🌻💕💖

She gets incredibly sweaty every time we ride together, even though I tell her often that we don't need to run so fast. It's less and less motivated by her own anxiety though, so I'm happy that she's happy 😊

Also, fun fact! Horses cannot vomit! Vomiting is my least favourite bodily function, whether I am doing it or someone else is, so I am extremely happy about that! Yeah yeah being unable to vomit means other health issues I don't care!

Anyway look at my (not mine) beautiful lovely horse who I love with all my heart!!!!

[apileoftribbles]

Thrift Shoppin’

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Star Trek AU

Words: 1527

Warnings: A few swears, but that’s about it

Author’s note: Hi pals! So it’s been a very long time since I’ve written anything that hasn’t been for school, and this is my first ever reader insert fic, so your kind and constructive feedback is very much appreciated. This is for @yourtropegirl and her 1000 follower celebration (congratulations!) and was inspired by my own summer job experiences, as well as my undying love of Star Trek and of course, our dear Leonard. Enjoy!

It was a hot summer day in the middle of July, the Colorado sun beating mercilessly on everything it touched. You stood up and groaned, surveying the piles of clothing and knick-knacks surrounding you, each in various levels of disrepair. Sorting donations at a thrift store definitely wasn’t your preferred line of work, but it paid the bills. After a few moments, you lifted your baseball hat to wipe the sweat dripping from your forehead and went back to digging through the endless piles of other people’s stuff.

You didn’t see him when he walked up, nearly jumping away at the sound of a strange voice standing altogether too close.

“Excuse me, m’am?”

You squinted up at the man, too tired and irritated to respond.

“Where should I put these?” He continued in his southern lilt, looking down at his armful of neatly folded clothes.

You sighed, reaching out both hands towards him, “I’ll take them. Is there anything else you need?”

“That’s it,” he handed you the pile, freezing when he caught a glimpse of the black lines on your wrist.

“Have a nice day!” you turned away quickly, not in the mood for further conversation.

“Wait – I’m sorry, is that a Starfleet symbol? On your wrist?”

“Yes.”

He frowned, studying you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“If you’re a member of Starfleet, then why in God’s name are you here?”

“I’m not in Starfleet,” you snapped, “Not anymore. I mean, I went to the academy, but I never really served.”

“So, are you a dropout or what?”

You dropped his clothes on the ground abruptly, turning to face him. “for your information, sir, I was the top of my class in every subject and graduated with honors,” you stepped back, surprising yourself with the outburst, “I just didn’t… couldn’t…” you trailed off, unsure of how to explain yourself.

He grimaced, staring at his shoes. “My apologies m’am. I didn’t mean to offend.”

You both stood in silence for a few moments, at a complete loss for words.

“My mom died,” you confessed quietly. “She was a doctor for Starfleet and a professor at the academy.” The man’s eyes snapped up.He squinted at you curiously and tried to say something, but you pushed forward, knowing you were rambling but unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“She was on her last mission before she retired. There was an outbreak of a previously undiscovered alien virus on one of the planets her ship visited and she refused to leave until she figured out a cure for the inhabitants. She was infected within a few days and died before they could synthesize the medicine she needed,” you took a deep breath, absentmindedly touching your wrist. “It’s for her. She loved Starfleet, and she died saving the lives of people she had never met. I went to med school and joined Starfleet because of her, because I just wanted to be like her. It was a few months after I had graduated from the academy and I just… couldn’t go back. Everything reminded me of her.”

“Why here?” He asked, still studying you intently.

You shrugged, starting to pick his clothes off the ground. “I don’t really know. I kind of just started driving east and stopped when I felt like I was far enough away.”

He stooped to the ground and started picking up clothes, still frowning with his eyebrows knitted together. You were getting increasingly uncomfortable with this man that asked too many questions, even if his accent was kind of cute and he had the warmest hazel eyes and seemed vaguely familiar and –

“What do you want from me?” you jerked yourself out of your reverie and tried to shove away the troubling thoughts, grabbing the rest of the clothes from him and throwing them into a box.

“I just don’t think this is what Diana would have wanted for you,” he said quietly.

“What?!” you choked out, too shocked to move. “How the hell – who the fuck are you?”

“Dr. Leonard McCoy, at your service m’am,” his frown melted into a smile as he saw a flash of recognition cross your face when he said his name.

“McCoy? As in mom’s favorite student McCoy?”

“The one and only. And that makes you Y/N, right?” he held out a hand for you to shake. “I know we’ve met once or twice briefly but… it’s been a while.”

You shook his hand tentatively. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. She absolutely adored having you in her class.”

“She was a wonderful person and an incredible doctor.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry to hear about her passing.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

He raised an entirely unconvinced eyebrow at you but thankfully said nothing.

“So, what brings you out here?” you asked, “San Francisco isn’t exactly nearby.”

“I’m on shore leave for a few weeks and I figured I should go somewhere I hadn’t before.” He shrugged, “the mountains aren’t bad either. Why are you here?”

“You know, she tried to set us up once.” You rapidly changed the subject, smiling at the memory.

“What? Well I’ll be damned.” He grinned.

“It was my first year at the academy and she wouldn’t stop talking about this student I just had to meet, this brilliant, handsome young doctor with such a promising career…” you couldn’t help yourself from laughing a little at the thought of your easily excited mother.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“So, what did you say?” He asked, reaching over to help you sort.

“I told her I was far too busy with my studies to even consider seeing someone. Also, I had a thing for someone else.”

“Well that’s just my luck isn’t it,” he grumbled.

“It wasn’t worth it, don’t worry. He dropped out after failing too many labs,” you chuckled to yourself. Good ol’ Richard Casey. He was always good for a fun time but wasn’t the sharpest tool in the –

“I think you should consider coming back.” McCoy said abruptly.

“Back to what?,” you shook your head, “there’s nothing left for me. Not here, not there, not anywhere.”

“Y/N, would you stop being so damn determined to be miserable and hear me out?”

“Mom never mentioned you having an attitude problem.”

“She never mentioned you being a quitter either.”

You opened your mouth to retort and he held up his hands, “okay, now maybe that was uncalled for. I myself have quit on many occasions, but that’s beside the point.” He took a deep breath and bent down to look directly into your eyes, “the simple truth is, you aren’t happy here. Anyone can see that. And while I’m far from Starfleet’s biggest fan, it gave me a home when I had nowhere else to go, and I think it can do that for you too,” he paused, “and while I can’t speak for her, I think Diana would want you to go.”

You stared at the ground, not wanting to believe what he was saying but knowing it was true. Mom never would have wanted you to run away, not like this, but the thought of going back to San Francisco and facing the memories that haunted you was too much to process.

“I know, but McCoy I… I can’t,” You stuttered out, wiping frantically at the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s okay, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. Believe it or not, I understand what you’re going through.” McCoy placed a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about this. When do you get off?”

You took a few moments to finish collecting yourself and gave him a small smile.

“Five, why?”

“Can I take you out for a drink after work?”

“Are you going to keep trying to recruit me?”

“Maybe. We do have an empty position on the medical team on the Enterprise.” He shrugged.

“McCoy – “ you warned.

“Or maybe I just want to spend more time with you.”

You could have imagined it, but there seemed to be just the slightest blush creeping into his cheeks and the tiniest fidget of his hands while he waited for your answer.

“Fine,” you sighed, “make it dinner and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He gave you a warm smile, “I’ll be back at five?”

“Yes McCoy, see you at five,” you feigned irritation in a vain attempt to contain your excitement, eventually giving in and returning his smile.

He winked and strode away, whistling a little as he went. You looked up towards the sun, closing your eyes for a moment as a delightfully cool breeze swept across your face.

“Okay, mom,” you smiled up at the sky, “message received.”

[killbothtwins]

History Has Its Eyes (and Lips) on You

Find it on a03

Ray covered his mouth, attempting futilely to smother a laugh. Amaya gripped at Nate's shoulder with too-sharp nails, trying to hold back any reaction and mostly failing. Jax and Stein seemed to be unable to process what they were seeing, staring agape at the sight in front of them.

“That,” Sara said, “Is the best thing I've ever seen.”

They all looked up at the statue, titled Private Rory in proud bronze letters. Mick's face looked down at them, stern yet noble.

Mick, the real one, growled at her. He was wearing a baseball cap, in an attempt to be incognito. The hat said Central City Fire Department, so it wasn’t actually a very good attempt, but it was the thought that counted. The crowd eddied around them, mostly uninterested. It was the sixties, so they supposed no one was going to be snapping photos with their iPhone, anyway.

“His eyes keep following me, everywhere I go.” Jax said, swaying slightly to the side.

“Private Rory is one of our nation's first and proudest heroes.” Ray read off a plaque, sounding strangled. “George Washington himself once said that Private Rory represents the true American way.”

“Damn right.” Mick said. “I'm a founding father.”

“I thought you were the drunk uncle.” Amaya said.

“He can be both.” Jax said, taking out his phone and snapping a selfie with the statue. Stein shot him a look that conveyed the fact that he was disappointed in his counterpart for using an anachronistic device, but didn't complain when Jax moved to get him in the picture, too.

Sara beamed brightly, utterly delighted with the statue, and, it seemed, life in general. She unhooked the fanny pack from around her waist (they'd gone all out on the tourist thing; Jax had a stripe of sunblock across his nose and Stein was wearing a Hawaiian shirt) and handed it to Nate.

“What are you doing?” Mick asked warily.

“What does it look like?” Sara rolled her eyes and hoisted a leg over the safety barrier, climbing up the few steps it took for her to get to the statue.

A few tourists’ attention had been caught, now, but Sara seemed quite determined. She held out a hand once she was level with the statue. “Lipstick?”

Nate dug through the fanny pack and found a tube of lipstick. He tossed it to her, looking curious.

She applied it with fervor, and kissed the statue directly on the cheek, just below his left cheekbone, with a smacking noise.

Mick scrunched his nose, looking disgusted. “Why.”

“Good luck.” Sara said. “Duh.”

“Kissing Private Rory gives you good luck for a year.” Jax added, thinking. “Plus he protects your home.”

“From fire.” Ray added, beaming.

Mick made a noise that somehow conveyed disgust and anger at the same time.

“Ooh, me next.” Nate said, handing the fanny pack off to Ray, who put it on, looking pleased with his fashion sense.

“Why.” Mick asked again.

“I want good luck, duh. Do you want the Waverider burning down?” He looked at Mick's face, and his baseball cap. “Okay, so, wrong person to ask. The rest of us don't.” He climbed up, wiped off Sara's lipstick, and kissed Mick on the cheek.

Sara made her way back down and plopped the lipstick in Ray's pack. She looked inordinately proud. “Me next!” Jax said, and clambered his way up.

“Ugh.” Mick said.

“Don't be sad, American Way.” Sara said. “At least we're not using tongue.”

“Wow.” Amaya said. “There are a lot more people here than last time we visited.” It was the nineties, now, and, true to word, the place was packed.

“Yeah, this is weird, why-” Ray said, then stopped abruptly as a peddler stepped in front of them.

“Lipstick, miss?” The vendor asked. “I'll give you a good deal.”

“Uh, no thanks. I have my own.” Sara said.

“Oh, good lord.” Stein said. “Look.” He pointed in the direction of Mick's statue, which was, again, far more crowded than it had been last time.

As they watched, a teenage girl climbed up onto the statue, applied lipstick, and kissed it on the cheek.

“What.” Jax said.

“Oh, you don't know?” The vendor asked, leaning on their little cart of lipsticks in all different shades. “It's good luck to kiss Private Rory. Ya get good luck for a year, and he'll protect your home from fire.”

“Really.” Mick rumbled.

The vendor squinted at him. “Hey, you look sort of familiar.”

“Ha, he gets that all the time.” Ray said, stepping in front of Mick before any awkward questions could be asked. “Any, any idea where that legend came from?”

“Oh, who knows.” The vendor said. “As long as I can remember. Lots of people like to wear lipstick when they kiss him, but not everyone.”

Sara looked immensely pleased with herself. “I'll take a lipstick after all.” She said.

“Me, too.” Amaya said.

“And me.” Jax said. “You got any, that, like, happen to say Mick-- uh, Private Rory's name on them?”

“Sure!” The vendor said. “They're collectible.”

“That could not be more perfect.” Jax said.

“I'm gonna punch you so hard he can feel it.” Mick muttered to Jax, jerking his head at Stein, who looked offended.

“Take a picture!” Ray, now holding a lipstick with Mick's name engraved on the base and slathered in it himself, called, leaning in to the statue.

“Never mind, you're gonna have to take a number.” Mick said, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

“So, what have you guys been doing?” Barry Allen asked Sara and Mick, kicking his feet up on a desk in STAR Labs.

The rest of both teams were there, too, watching Ray and Cisco curse and dodge sparks over some aspect of the ATOM suit or another.

“Is that supposed to happen?” Nate asked doubtfully.

“Haha, probably not.” Cisco said. “Duck.”

“Good.” Sara told Barry. “A couple changes to the timeline, but nothing major.” The last part may have been said a little pointedly, but Barry pretended not to notice.

“Oh, yeah?” He asked. “Like what?”

Sara grinned devilishly, the customary look whenever she talked about this topic. “You know that statue in DC? Private Rory?”

“Yeah-” Barry said, and his eyes widened. “No.”

“Yep.” Sara said. “Right, Mick?”

“Unfortunately.” Mick confirmed. He was eating some of the Twizzlers off of Cisco's desk, but he still managed to look threatening.

“But-” Barry said. “He protects you from fire!”

“My doing.” Sara said proudly. “And the Waverider isn't burned down yet, is it?”

Barry shuddered. “Iris and I kissed that thing on our fifth grade field trip.”

“Ha.” Sara said.  

Barry looked disgusted. “Hey, Cisco!” He called.

“Yeah?”

Barry had the look of someone who was about to ruin someone’s life, and who was also about to enjoy it. “You know that Kissing Statue in DC?”

“Yeah, why- wait, ugh! ” Cisco said. “No!”

“Yep.” Sara said smugly. “You’ve made out with Mick.”

“I hate time travel.” Cisco complained. “Why can’t you let us have nice things.”

“Ugh.” Barry said. “I can't believe you're the Kissing Statue. Practically everyone I know has kissed that thing. Joe has kissed that thing.”

Mick shrugged. “At least I didn't erase anyone's children from existence.”

“That was one time!” Barry said. “And she wasn't erased, she just changed genders.”

“Guess Mick looks pretty good now.” Jax mused. “He creates a beloved tradition. You ruin everything.”

“One time.” Barry sulked.

It was the twenty-somethings, now, and they were visiting Private Rory. Again.

“Hey, there's a new sign.” Nate said, squinting in the sun to read it. “ Please do not climb on or deface the statue. Thank you. ”

“Ha.” Mick said.

“Hey, what gives?” Ray snagged a tour guide. “What's with the sign?”

The guide sighed beleagueredly. “So many people were kissing the statue that it started to cause permanent damage.” She said. Jax unsuccessfully held in a laugh. “The spot where they were kissing started to get worn and shiny.”

“Do people still-” Stein asked.

“Oh, yeah, all the time.” The guide said. “Get off the statue!” She yelled, without turning around. A group of teenagers scrambled off where they were kissing Mick, wiping lipstick off their faces.

On inspection, there was a clear, brighter spot where the imprint of ten thousand kisses had been.

“It's like you--I mean he's blushing.” Raymond observed. “That's adorable.”

“I am,” Sara said. “ So happy.”

When Leonard came back, the first place Sara insisted on stopping was the Kissing Statue of Private Rory.

The moment Captain Cold, legendarily emotionless, always calm under pressure, and cool, saw the statue, he burst out laughing.

He didn't stop for an uncomfortably long time, wheezing slightly. He put his hands on his knees, trying to catch a breath, still laughing.

“Laugh it up.” Mick grumbled, dodging a tourist who was trying to climb up onto the statue.

“I… can't… breathe.” Leonard gasped. “It's the best thing I've ever seen in my life.” Apparently trying to regain his composure, he looked back at the statue, only to see a little old lady kiss it on the cheek, looking pleased with herself. He started laughing again.

“I told you.” Sara said, looking smug. “It's good luck.”

Leonard only laughed harder. “I think I'm gonna pass out.”

“Good.” Mick said dispassionately. “I hope you die.”

Leonard didn't stop.

“This is gonna go on for a while, isn't it?” Amaya asked Sara.

“I hope so.” Sara said, looking gleeful. “Once he stops, I'm gonna tell him about the commemorative lipsticks.”

It was sometime in the three thousands, probably. The last mission had been hard, blood-filled, and smelly. Past historical periods were not very concerned with hygiene, or teeth brushing. Or whether or not their bows and arrows were pointed at you or an enemy soldier.

“We need good luck.” Sara explained as they stood in front of the Kissing Statue. “Lipstick me.” A tired-looking Ray slapped it into her hand. She put it on, and started the trek up the statue.

There weren't as many tourists around, today, probably due to the rain. There were a few dedicated ones, though, snapping pictures from under decorative umbrellas.

“Is that a gift shop? ” Leonard asked suddenly, delighted.

Sara, now finished kissing Mick, hurried back down, mindless of slipperiness, as Stein went to take his turn. Every time they visited, everyone kissed him at least once, except for Mick, who kept threatening to set them all on fire. “A gift shop? ” She asked. “We're going inside.”

“I didn't get my kiss yet.” Snart complained. “It's bad luck.”

“We’ll go after.” Sara said. “ Gift shop.”

“Fine.” Leonard said. “If the Waverider catches on fire, don't blame me.”

“Blame me.” Mick said, watching Jax kiss statue-him on the cheek. “I'm going to kill all of you.”

“Yeah, right, American Way.” Jax said. “Gift shop!”

They made their way inside. The future, it seemed, had the same penchant for horribly tacky souvenirs as the past. There were a couple floating holograms, and unrecognizable electronics, but otherwise it was eerily familiar. There were bobbleheads of the Lincoln Memorial and postcards of the Washington Monument, but there were also Kissing Statue souvenirs.

Sara shook the water out of her hair out like a dog, looking like someone had let her loose in a surplus weapons warehouse (Again. Christmas of 2472 was probably a bad idea).

“Yes.” Leonard said. “I've never been happier.”

“We met Al Capone last week.” Jax reminded him.

“I know what I said.”

“Ugh.” Mick said.

“There's bumper stickers.” Ray said. “It says I kissed Private Rory. ”

“Will it peel off in the timestream?” Amaya asked sensibly.

“You are not putting some ugly bumper stickers on my ship like it's a Honda Civic.” Jax said.

“Um, can I help you?” The shopkeeper asked, hovering nervously around the delighted group.

“Yes.” Leonard said. “I'd like to buy all of these postcards of Beyonce kissing Private Rory. Literally all of them. If you have more in the back I'll take them too.” The shopkeeper nodded, bemused, and disappeared into the back.

“How about a fridge magnet?” Nate negotiated. “We'll put it in the kitchen.”

“Acceptable.” Jax said. Nate, Amaya, and Ray high-fived and found one that was a drawing of Mick covered in lipstick marks. They squabbled for a moment on whether to get that one or the one where Mick seemed to be passionately making out with the Statue of Liberty.

“There's a keychain. ” Sara said. “I'm buying this.”

“You don't even have keys.” Mick complained as Snart staggered out of the back with a shoebox full of postcards. “We live on a spaceship.”

“It's going on my belt loop.” She said. “Or my bra strap. Close to my heart.”

Snart shoved a postcard under Mick's nose. “ Obama kissed you.” He said gleefully.

Malcolm Merlyn squinted at Mick. He was holding a cartoonishly villainous gun up at the Legends, but, really, they were used to it by now.

“Do I know you?” He asked, gesturing with the gun.

“No.” Mick said.

“Just kill them.” Dahrk grumbled from the corner, cradling his shoulder from where Sara had smashed him into the wall.

“No, I know him.” Merlyn said. “You weren’t involved in the plot to level the Glades, were you?”

“Nah, man.” Mick said. “That was messed up.”

“Yeah, kids died, dude. Not cool.” Leonard added. “Even I’m not that evil. And I’m evil.”

Merlyn shrugged, but kept staring at Mick. “I know you.”

“Wait.” Jax said slowly, his hands still in the air in an attempt to placate the maniac with the gun. “You don’t know Mick from the Kissing Statue, do you?”

Merlyn’s eyes widened, and the gun wavered for a moment. “ You’re- ”

“Yes.” Mick sighed, looking resigned.

“I took my kid there when he was twelve.” Malcolm said, almost thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I was there.” Sara said, uncovering memories that were hers and weren’t at the same time. “Tommy and Ollie got into a fight over who got to kiss him first. While they were arguing, Laurel and I snuck up and kissed him anyway.”

“ Kill them!” Dahrk called, frustrated. Merlyn raised up the gun again, but by then it was too late; the Legends were already in action.

Stein and Jax rushed towards each other and fused, flying into the air with a burst of flame, while Sara went for Merlyn, knocking the gun out of his hand and going in for a kick, which he caught. Leonard dove for his and Mick’s guns on the table, pointing them at Dahrk, who rolled his eyes.

“We’ve gotta go!” Amaya called, now wearing her totem and bedecked in a very feminine gorilla spirit. “They’ve set this warehouse to blow!”

“Of course they did.” Leonard said, watching Sara break apart from her spar with Merlyn. They were both panting, and a little banged up, but the fact that they were very nearly evenly matched always meant it was hard to determine a clear winner.

From behind, Firestorm shot a stream of fire that caught Merlyn in the back and sent him sprawling to the ground, dazed.

“Get out, everyone!” Sara called to the team, then kicked at Merlyn with a boot, ignoring the increasingly more urgent calls to go. “We’ll let you go this time.” She said, before baring her teeth turning after the rest of the Legends.

Mick, flanked by Leonard, leaned down to Malcolm with a grin. “For bad luck.” He said, and kissed him on the cheek, shooting the villains a sly grin before turning with Snart and running for the door.

“Good job, idiot.” Dahrk complained as the two limped out the back of the warehouse, half supporting each other and pretending they weren’t.

“Not gonna lie, that kiss wasn’t half bad.” Merlyn said thoughtfully as the warehouse exploded behind them.

“Happy birthday, Mick.” Leonard said, putting his hands on his hips and gesturing to the area behind him. It was the three-thousand-twenty whatevers, and the tourists were still going strong, taking pictures and fighting over who got to go next.

“Not sure why this is a present.” Mick rumbled, eyeing Private Rory as if he was going to come to life and punch them. Given their weird lives, Leonard was going to give Mick that one; he honestly would not be surprised if that happened.

“This is a present because that’s not the original statue.”

“What?” Mick eyed it again.

“Okay, well, it’s one of the original statues. The kid and I took the Jumpship and had the original guy make two.” Snart said, looking pleased with himself.

“Why.”

Leonard grinned. “Come with me and you’ll see.”

The Legends stood in a field in an unspecified era in an unspecified place, gazing up at the majestic face of Private Mick Rory, one of the nation’s first and proudest heroes, the embodiment of American ideals.

“He’s beautiful.” Sara said, wiping away a pretend tear. Jax had gone the extra mile and dabbed an old fashioned handkerchief at his eyes, intermittently pausing to hand it to Amaya. Mick seemed to be cautiously optimistic, now, seemingly getting the idea of what his present was.

“A final kiss for a hero.” Snart said solemnly, stepping up to kiss statue-Mick on the cheek. The others followed suit, each appropriately serious.

They stood in a line in front of the statue, now covered in lipstick marks but missing the standard wear and tear from the kisses of tourists. Snart fired off a crisp, somber salute, followed by the rest of the Legends.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Rory.” Stein said, handing Mick his heatgun, a box of matches, and a can of gasoline.

Mick took them with a grin. “Bye, Private Rory.” He said, then, to the delight of his team, stepped up and gave the statue a peck on the cheek before dousing it in gasoline, from head to toe. Statue-Mick looked grimly approving, yet still nobly heroic.

The Kissing Statue (well, one of them) went up into flames in a glorious show of light that left Mick satisfied and smelling more like smoke than usual for a week.

However, that was most definitely not the last time the Legends visited and subsequently kissed the other one.

It was good luck, after all.