#at least lois will treat me right the one night i have her

[oifaaa]

If you had to choose to go on a date with Lois lane, poison ivy, Harley Quinn, or catwoman. Who would you choose

Lois Lane tho sadly I don't think she'd enjoy it much considering she has superman at home and how the fuck am I meant to compete with that

[realhousewives-fan]

The Memorable Moments of Season 12

With a season that has been so long, so eventful, so shocking and so toxic, it’s difficult to only pick 10 moments from the season. 

Even if a lot of fans has been complaining about the season for being too long and draining, it was a very good season – and the rating reflects this – it became too much as the toxicity got out of hand.

Lisa Rinna is a big part of the blame as she went ballistic on social media and was hellbent on getting the story about Kathy Hilton out to talk about it.

But I’ve tried to make a list of what was the most memorable moments of the season for me.

The terrifying break-in in Beverly Hills

As there were a lot of hateful nay-sayers who doubted the validity of the break-in, there’s no doubt that it was a horrifying moment for Dorit Kemsley.

She handled the whole ordeal with such calmness and grace that I think made the fans doubting if the break-in was real or orchestrated by the Kemsley in order to stay relevant and on the show.

It was heartbreaking to see PK breaking down in tears too. I found myself being grateful that Dorit and her children were unharmed by the break-in and only wish to send them lots of love.

Sutton Stracke really put her foot in her mouth by downplaying the break-in, which lead her to the top of the Fox Force Four’s shit list.

And poor Sutton was already in trouble for her Elton John analogy at Watch What Happens Live. 

Erika wasn’t a pretty mess!

I came very close to choose the face-off between Sutton and Rinna about the Elton John charity tickets as I found that storyline so incredibly funny.

And besides, I just love to throw Sir Elton John’s name into the whole mess.

But no, it didn’t have as much impact this season as Erika Girardi’s drinking had. She was mixing her anti-depressant medicine with alcohol and acted a damn fool on multiple occasions.

The worst she did was proposition Garcelle Beauvais’ oldest son and cursing at her youngest, but also suggesting that Crystal Kung Minkoff, who suffers from eating disorder, should take laxative.

Garcelle felt uncomfortable with her drinking and tried to address it, to the other women’s outrage.

Erika and Rinna later produced a scene where they supposedly addressed her drinking and it felt so tame and staged.

At least Garcelle’s attempt to talk felt genuine and natural.

The chaos at Garcelle’s birthday party

It wasn’t possible to highlight one of the moments from Garcelle’s iconic birthday party, so I named the whole freaking party. It was an eventful night!

At one corner of the party, you had Sutton and Diana Jenkins having a bizarre and uncomfortable conversation, and Kyle Richards getting physical and cruel with Sutton.

In another corner was Erika and her drunken embarrassment as she disrespected Garcelle’s sons.

Diana delivered her one and only memorable line that wasn’t obscured by her rampant tongue and it was: “You need another villain? Here I am.”

The joke was on Diana though, because she got the villain treatment, and she didn’t appreciate that at all. 

She played the delusional victim and sued fans left and right for spreading defamatory rumours about her.

Sutton told her that night: “I’ve got your number, and it’s 8675309.”

Neither Kyle nor Diana reacted to that read, but Sutton was referring to the number of a call girl!

Oof, you’re so angry, Rinna…

Sutton was forced to apologise multiple times for her Elton John analogy, but Rinna was apparently unwilling to let it go.

There was a campaign to gang up on Sutton this season and it was clear to see from episode one.

But Rinna treated Sutton for instance one way in private and was screaming at her once she had an audience.

It was a bizarre moment when Rinna screamed that she was going to hunt Sutton down if she came for her husband, Harry Hamlin.

It was the first sign of Rinna being a woman unravelling as she struggled with the death of her mother, Lois.

The embarrassment at the charity event

This was really a continuation of Rinna rage towards Sutton from the previous episode. Kyle had been absent because she was away filming, and she was stirring the pot. Always the producer’s pet.

But they had a lot of witnesses, people who really cared about the charity with the unfortunate name: Homeless, Not Toothless.

And once again, Rinna was screaming at Sutton about the same old stuff that Sutton has already apologised for multiple times before.

You could see it in Rinna’s face that she knew she had taken it too far and was embarrassed by her actions. And then she decided to tell the entire party about her behaviour, her struggles and her sorrow.

I felt bad for Rinna and I’m sorry for the loss of her mother, but that party was neither the time or place, so it became more embarrassing to me than genuine and heartfelt.

The nastiness at the disco party

Erika has learned that Garcelle was concerned about her drinking and was making asshole comments about Sutton, like “And I’m the one with the supposedly drinking problem” as Diana was sitting next to her, snickering.

It became a back and forth between Erika and Garcelle where Garcelle gave her such simple and subtle reads that Erika walked right into.

“Erika, I don’t have to make you look bad, you do that fine on your own.”

It’s one of my favourite moments this season. But this party is also important for what happens later in the season. You could see a shift in the way the women treated Kathy in this episode.

As Kathy butchered the name of the charity and made jokes about it, the women acted so offended by it, as if they hadn’t made fun of the name themselves.

It’s interesting that they all of a sudden had an issue with Kathy.

The case of the infamous earrings

I didn’t want to highlight the wickedness of Diana and how terrible she treated Sutton in Aspen.

It was one of the most frustrating and triggering episodes I’ve seen in a long time, and I don’t know who I despise the most; Diana, Erika or Kyle.

However, Erika’s unapologetic and hostile attitude as Crystal and Garcelle asked her about the diamond earrings tops everything.

I think this was the meltdown the women should’ve addressed as concerning and disgusting, instead of Kathy’s meltdown that was neither captured on mic or film.

How convenient that Kathy had her meltdown when she had, as Rinna succeeded in deflecting the attention away from her bestie.

The sitdown with Kathy, Kyle and Rinna

As there was no audio or film of Kathy’s meltdown in Aspen, we’re forced to rely on Rinna’s version of events. I partly believe that Kathy said all those alleged things, but I don’t necessarily understand why they made such a big deal about.

I believe Garcelle’s verdict about the situation: Everybody is now talking about Kathy and not Erika.

The fact that Rinna and Erika are the ones pushing this story makes it obvious: They were deflecting the attention away from Erika’s meltdown in Aspen.

And why Rinna was there for a conversation between Kyle and Kathy didn’t make much sense either. 

Rinna made a bad situation worse, and she did it just for a moment on TV.

Kyle accused Erika of leaking stories!

This was one of the greatest moments from the season, at least one of my favourite moments.

The Fox Force Four has been insufferable and I’ve been begging for a breaking of the miserable pact and I thought this was a significant moment:

Kyle accused Erika of leaking stories about Kathy to the press! Holy shit!

Dorit poorly whispered in Kyle’s ear “You never should’ve said anything” which was incredibly interesting to me.

Sadly, Andy Cohen never asked about this moment at the reunion for some reason… Another failed opportunity to keep all the women accountable for their actions as some seems to be more protected than others. 

Kathy came for Rinna at the reunion!

Someone had been prepping Kathy for this reunion because she brought her A-game. She read Rinna almost like a script coming from the haters on social media, so what she said resignated with a lot of people’s opinion on Rinna.

I personally loved the fact that Kathy asked if Rinna had forgotten that she was agreeing with everything she allegedly said in Aspen! Which makes her whole uncomfortable act at Crystal’s birthday party just that: an act.

As the arrival of Kathy was teased in part 1 and part 2 of the reunion, she was there for a short period during part 3. And once Kyle started crying and feeling sorry for herself, Kathy was done with the whole situation.

For such a short moment at the reunion, Kathy was definitely memorable and, if I’m going to be quite honest, it was kind of iconic. 

If Kathy leaves the show, she quit on top!

[ambssssssssss]

“I’m so sorry, Lena,” A harsh cough followed the words and Lena felt her eyes begin to fill with water. She was kneeling in the broken streets of National City at Kara’s sighed, mindless of the destruction around them as the injured woman before her absorbed all of her attention. 

“Hold on, Kara, just a few more minutes.” Lena found Kara’s bloody, shaking hand and grasped it with her own. Kara gave her a watery smile. 

“We could’ve had so much time if I hadn’t been so scared.” There’s a strong current of regret in her tone and Lena feels as if she can’t breathe as she pulls Kara’s hand to her lips and presses a kiss against dirty knuckles. 

“We’ll have time now, darling. All the time in the world.” 

“I thought we promised not to lie to each other anymore.” 

A long, uncomfortable pause followed. Kara’s breath grows more shallow by the second, but her eyes remain the same. The deep blue of her iris shines with that same adoration that Lena had always seen in them, and always felt unworthy of. Kara lifted the hand that Lena wasn’t holding on to desperately, ignoring the way her limbs trembled, to carefully cup Lena’s cheek. 

This is the end. They both know it. 

“No, Kara, please,” Lena can hear the desperation in her voice but ignored it just as resolutely as she ignored the tears falling from her eyes. Tears that Kara barely had the strength to gently brush away. “I can’t lose you again.” 

“You never lost me, Lena, not for a single second.” The conviction in Kara’s voice is broken by the blood that slips past her lips as a cough tears through her throat. She collapses back against the broken asphalt after the fit subsides, landing on uneven ground with a pained groan. “I’ve always been yours, even when I wasn’t.” 

The noise around them barely registers in Lena’s mind. The battle had been over for a few minutes at least, but Lena had paid no attention to the chaos around them. Kara, just as she had done since the day they met, commanded all of Lena’s attention. It isn’t until Kara coughs again that Lena realizes that she hadn’t been unconsciously blocking out anything going around them. 

Kara’s cough echoes of the wreckage of a ruined city around them. If Lena had the strength to pull her gaze away from Kara’s slowly dimming eyes, she would have seen the veritable host of people around them falling to their knees as the consequences of this final battle hit home. They won, yes, but none of them thought that the cost would be so high. 

Lena is dimly aware of another person settling on the other side of Kara, taking her hand and nearly gasping out Kara’s name in a choked cry. Even with the addition of Alex with them, Lena doesn’t tear her eyes away from Kara. 

“I know, darling,” Lena grips Kara’s trembling hand tighter, wrapping both of her own around it and pressing a kiss to Kara’s knuckles again. “I think I always have. I should have said something sooner.” 

“Better late than never,” Kara cracked a smile and just for a second, Lena could believe that she wasn’t watching the love of her life die right before her eyes. “Promise me something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t blame yourself, for any of it.” 

“Kara-”

“Promise me, Lena. None of this is your fault, or mine. It happened, and it sucks.” Kara smiled again as Lena released a rueful chuckle. “But you can’t let this stop you. Promise me that you won’t give up.” 

“I promise Kara,” Lena leans over and seals her promise with a trembling kiss pressed to Kara’s forehead. 

“Good.” Kara’s strength left her completely, her head fell to the ground and if not for Lena’s grip on her hand, the same would have been true of it as well. “Remember, I am always yours. Even when I’m not.” 

Kara turns her head then, to Alex who sits on her left. Words are spoken by both of them but Lena doesn’t hear them. She can’t hear anything over the high pitched sound ringing in her ears and Kara’s last words playing on a loop in her mind. 

They should have had so much more time. They should have had years to be together, truly together. Years without lies and secrets pulling them apart. Years of light and laughter and love, so much love that it would be bursting out of them. The kind of love that couldn’t be contained. They should have had it all but now they only had minutes.

They only have minutes and Kara doesn’t know how Lena feels. A sudden panic seizes Lena as she realizes that minutes are quickly receding into seconds and Kaa still doesn’t know. 

“Kara,” even to her own ears, Lena’s voice sounds so far away. “Kara, I love you.” 

There’s no ignoring the tears now, they fall from Lena’s eyes unbidden. But Kara is smiling at Lena, that special, bright smile that always made Lena feel like she was the one who could fly. 

Kara’s smile remains as her eyes fall closed and her body goes limp. Kara’s smile remains as she exhales, whispering Lena’s name with her last breath. 

Supergirl dies a hero, mourned and celebrated by many. 

Kara Danvers dies to the sound of her sister crying beside her. 

Kara Zor-El dies smiling in the embrace of the woman she loves most.

Lena woke up feeling as if that last image of Kara’s smile had been burned into her retinas. The dream, memory, ends in the same place it always does, the moment before the realization of what she had just witnessed sinks in. Lena wakes with soul crushing despair settling deep in her chest so that her breath in a new day is little more than a broken sob. It takes a few minutes for Lena to gather herself enough to climb out of bed and reach for her phone. The move is calculated. Lena knows that if she had reached for her phone first, she wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. 

Every other day, Lena had been able to push herself through it. She could almost pretend that everything was normal, until she caught herself trying to call Kara and invite her to lunch. Even after two weeks, Lena’s first instinct was still to call Kara. The hope that maybe the dream had been a nightmare rather than a memory and Kara would answer when she called had been all that kept Lena going for the past 14 days. 

The day of Kara’s funeral had pulled that hope to a crashing halt. 

There had been a service for Supergirl the day before. It felt like all of National City had been there, human and alien alike. All the heroes that Kara had worked with over the years were there, a few of them people that Lena had only met briefly before the wave of dark matter destroyed all of their worlds. The Flash had a few words to say. Cat Grant had barely held her tears in. Superman openly cried as he said goodbye to his last blood relative. Lena had watched it all with a blank expression, Alex’s hand in hers. 

Lena had made her way to Midvale on her own and was one of the last to arrive at Kara’s childhood home. Eliza had greeted her with a hug and a far too knowing look. Lena had slept in Kara’s bed and refused to cry until she was sure that no one would hear her. 

Now, Lena pulled on the dark outfit she had selected the night before and made her way downstairs. Alex and Eliza met her at the bottom of the stairs and led her to where Clark and Lois were standing with J’onn. Eliza pulled Lena into another hug while Lois looked as if she was the only one in the room who could understand Lena’s pain. Everyone was treating Lena like she was Kara’s widow and Lena wasn’t sure she would ever recover from that. 

She had Kara had never been together. They hadn’t gone on dates or celebrated anniversaries. They’d never even kissed and yet Lena still felt like a piece of her heart had been broken beyond repair. She wasn’t Kara’s widow but she was Kara’s someday and that was somehow worse. 

How could Lena mourn what she’d never had in the first place? 

Kara’s funeral had been short. She wouldn’t have wanted all of her friends and family to spend hours crying over her. Kara had been a ray of sunshine, a becon of joy. Although tears were shed, everyone wanted to follow Kara’s wishes so it soon turned to a memorial rather than a funeral. As everyone had been distracted by Alex’s story of the first time Kara saved her, Lena didn’t think anyone would notice when she stepped onto the back patio. She nearly jumped in surprise when a masculine voice called her name. 

“Sorry,” Clark said as he stepped up beside her. Lena hummed her acceptance of the apology but didn’t say a word. 

They stood together in silence for a few minutes. If it had been any other time, Lena might have made a joke about a Super and a Luthor but it didn’t feel right with her Super missing. Eventually, Lena can see Clark’s shoulders sag and knows that the silence is about to be broken. 

“She was always so much stronger than me.” Clark speaks in a low, haunted voice. “I’ll never be able to thank her for righting my worst wrong.” 

There’s a heavy set to his shoulders and a distant glint in his eyes that makes Lena feel foolish for forgetting where all this conflict had started. Lex had killed Kara, but it was Clark that turned Lex into a staunch believer in the superiority of man. It was Clark who faced Lex time and time again. CLark who wasn’t strong enough to deal the blow that would have ended all of this conflict. It was Clark’s weakness that had pushed Kara into that position, and Clark’s cowardice that cost Kara her life. 

The urge to hate Clark for his inaction is strong, so strong it makes Lena’s stomach clench and her hands tremble. It would be all too easy to blame Clark for losing Kara, but Lena knows that it wouldn’t be fair to him. There’s plenty of blame to go around but Clark doesn’t truthfully deserve any of it. Lex does. For targeting Kara and dealing the fatal blow, but most of them blame falls on Lena herself. For her own war against Supergirl, for the experiments that gave Lex his powers, for not being strong enough to defeat him on her own. 

Kara would still be with them if not for Lena’s failures. 

“But there is something I can do for her, if you’re willing to help me.” 

It takes a moment for Lena to realize that Clark’s statement had been a request. She looks at him, blinking in askance. 

“Follow me,” Clark, in a move that Lena would never have expected to come from him, gently took Lena’s hand into his own and guided her down the porch steps towards the beach. Agreeing to Clark’s request that she wait there for a moment, Lena tries to settle her nerves. When Clark returns, Lena knows that there is nothing she could have done to prepare herself. 

Clark touches down gently a few feet away from Lena and in the space between them hovers a sleek, grey pod. The black surface on the outside fades to clear and suddenly Lena can see Kara. 

She looks peaceful in death, Lena thinks, like she finally dropped all the weight she had been carrying for so long. 

“On Krypton, when a woman died,” Clark swallows roughly. “It was tradition for the oldest female member of the House to speak Rao’s blessing over them.” 

Clark meets Lena’s gaze evenly. 

“I know that would be Eliza here, or Alura if she had come, but I also know that Kara would have wanted it to be you.” 

“Clark,” Lena hesitated, “Kal, I don’t know.” 

“I know what you mean to her. Meant.” Even though they had been doing so all day, hearing Kara referred to in the past tense hurt deeply and Lena felt the tears welling for what must have been the thousandth time. 

“Okay,” Lena agreed with a shaky nod. Clark handed her a small piece of paper from his pocket and then turned his gaze to the pod containing Kara’s still form.” 

“Whenever you’re ready.” 

Lena was sure that she would never be ready to say goodbye to Kara but there was no sense in waiting. Voice thick with tears and barely above a whisper, Lena began to read. 

“You have been the sun of our lives. Our prayers will be the sun that lights your way on the journey home. We will remember you in every dawn and await the night we join you in the sky. Rao’s will be done.” 

They stood there for a moment with only the sound of the waves crashing against the beach breaking the still air. Then, with a heavy breath like he was steeling himself for the hardest moment of his life, Clark lifted the casket into the air with him. A moment later, Kara returned to the stars that had brought her home. 

Clark returned to the Danver’s household while Lena remained on the beach by herself. There was a fleeting feeling of Lena wishing she had something to hold on to, a memento of Kara’s. The feeling faded only to be replaced with a much stronger wish to simply have Kara there with her. The feeling was strong that for a moment, Lena felt the soft, familiar warmth of Kara’s hand in her own, their fingers resting together easily. As time stretched on, Lena let herself be lost in the phantom feeling of what could have been, until the sound of a car door closing shattered the dream and brought Lena crashing back to reality. 

A reality where Kara was gone. 

Suddenly, the beach felt just as stifling as the house had been. 

Realizing that her moment with the ghost of Kara’s memory was over, Lena turned to make her way back to the house. 

Only Kara’s closest friends remained at the house. Clark, Lois, and Lucy were sitting together on the couch, the two normally argumentative sisters silent in their grief. Barry and Iris were curled together in a chair, Barry staring blankly ahead as Iris watched him in concern. Caitlin and Cisco sat together on the floor in front of Barry and Iris, their shoulders pressed together. Ava sat in the other chair with Sara leaning against her legs, her fingers idly wrapping a strand of Sara’s hair around and around. The other Legends must have gone back to the Waverider. Alex and Eliza sat together on the loveseat and made room between them for Lena. 

It was odd, Lena decided as she took the seat provided for her, to be surrounded by so many heroic figures and not feel even the smallest amount of hope. The Kara shaped whole in the arrangement could not be ignored. No one said a word as Lena sat down and the silence was no less disturbing the longer it went on. 

“It doesn’t seem right,” Cisco broke the silence with a sad voice. “The most powerful person we know.” 

“The bravest and most caring, too,” Barry added just as softly. “She didn’t even ask for help.” 

“You were all busy,” Alex shrugged slightly but Lena could see the tension in her jaw. “You all had your own villains to face and lives to live. She wouldn’t have disrupted that.” 

“She wouldn’t put all of you in danger like that.” Lena’s voice was hoarse from disuse. Not counting her blessing of Kara at the beach, that was the longest sentence Lena had said in two weeks. 

“I did, with the Dominators and Crisis,” Barry’s expression shone with guilt. “She answered every time.” 

“She was like Oliver,” Sara said, leaning further into Ava as she spoke. “More of a hero than any of us will ever be.” 

“All these powers, even time travel, and we still can’t save everyone.” Iris sighed and dropped her head onto Barry’s shoulder. Barry pressed a kiss against his wife’s forehead. 

“We would if we could.” Barry said. “I’d go back in a second if we didn’t have to worry about another Flashpoint. An event like this is too big to go back and change.” 

“Flashpoint?” Lena asked curiously. Alex looked at her with the smallest bit of surprise and a hint of question in her eyes. 

“One of the first times I travelled back in time on purpose, to save my mom. I ended up changing everything,” Barry explained. 

With everyone reluctant to leave, it took little prodding to get Barry to continue elaborating. A conversation about the difficulty of preserving the timeline arose between the members of team Flash and the two remaining Legends in the room. Lena listened with half an ear but her mind was stuck on the comment that had started this conversation. 

It didn’t feel right without Kara in the room, not only in the sense that Lena personally felt as though she was missing an essential part of her being, but in the sense that something about all of this was fundamentally wrong. The only thing about Kara’s conflict with Lex was that Lex was gone. It doesn’t make sense for him to have taken Kara out with him, especially not without Kryptonite. Lena remembered the final blow in sharp detail. The beam that had exhausted Kara was golden, not green. 

A comment about the natural order of time caught Lena’s attention and she pondered the implications of it. The natural order of time ensured that everyone was at the correct time and place, whenever that happened to be in the linear timeline of their own lives. Barry and the Legends are able to move through time as long as they don’t disrupt the natural time. There were few rules for time travel, but the most important was that one could not be in the exact same place and time as they had been before. A person cannot physically be in one specific time and place more than once. 

But, there were ways to send other things through time. The Legends used a ship, and Barry had once sent a message back in time to himself, warning of things to come. The beginnings of an idea began to form in Lena’s mind. Physical time travel was limited, but that didn’t mean that other forms had the same limitations. Unfortunately, Lena was kept from following that rabbit any further down the hole by the group finally breaking apart for the night. Lena forced the questions and ideas from her mind until she returned to National City. 

[robinrequiems]

mmm more clishes.... Idk reverse background or personality kind of au? :/

ill do you one better 1 of my favorite mutual, reverse & personality au, they’re the same age bc I have a tiny idea *shy hands*

this is uh. a really long one thay started to lag my phone too

• oh god guys I got vivid memories of ra’s being a good grandfather and I can’t get it out of my head

• i hate it ur honor

• but ok. krypton didn’t get blown up, instead, they all migrated to earth, more specifically kansas.

• the kryptonians are angry and enraged, they are treated as if they are monsters when they arrived peacefully. they tried to kill them.

• so in return, the aliens killed the humans.

• they created a secret underground. that secret underground is to help aliens or meta humans and kill humans.

• all of them hated aliens and sought to destroy them. until kal el found a reporter trying to help aliens who were injured due to an explosion the government did to take out one of their bases.

• kal el.. fell in love with her. lois lane, she is an reporter fighting for alien rights.

• he met with her. in secret. and they.. had formed a connection. an amazing one.

• and then they had a baby.

• at the alien base, but.. she was human and people did not like that. so they wiped her mind and made her believe that they never had a kid. like the last few months.. wasnt real. she had gone missing those months since the aliens didn’t want her trying to hide the baby, they made her believe the last few months was spent in a coma and kal had found her and taken her to a hospital.

• he couldn’t see her anymore. he mourned for her lost presence, but they would have killed her if she stayed.

• but now they had precious jon el. he would be the highlight of their cause.

• they noticed his powers came in faster than kal’s, so they perfected his powers.

• he was going to bring humanity down on order of his grandfather, jor el

• kal saw his son break slowly. loses that childhood innocence that kal tried to maintain.

• his sons amazing bright blue eyes dulling, loses the spark that he cherished.

• kal was going to get him out of there, try to refuge the remaining childhood he had. even if it killed him.

—

• damian wayne! the bright bubbly and prodigal son of bruce and talia wayne ( b & t are married, suck my— ). the press loved him, he was just.. him. he was the baby and was cute, the cutest ever

• he was an expert in martial arts due to the training his grandfather, father, mother, & so much more gave him

• ra’s owns a farm. he’s.. sorry all i get is farm ra’s vibes due to.. something:) think endgame thanos, yk?

• he was the baby robin, one that you never messed with due to the herd of heroes who would come save him

—

• kalel left jon with Lois, a brief note explaining the current situation

• it was weird, jon was ten and was meeting lois for the first time

“Hi, honey.. I’m lois.”

“I know.. Dad told me about you.”

“Oh.. right. What do you want for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat.”

“No! I’m not hungry!”

• an explosive, superpower alien. Lois is way out of her head.

• he had outbursts, a lot of them. it was hard, really hard for Lois; she took some time off from the planet and focused on jon

• he broke a lot of stuff. he sometimes could not control his strength, but she was working with him

• but then one night he ran away, or flew away. he felt remorse for making Lois cry. she saw this as a win, but she lost her kid

• but then a little robin found him

“Um. Are you okay?”

“Huh-what- what do you want? Why are you talking to me?”

“Because you look sad? Yknow - hugs make people feel better. My ahki ( brother ) hugs me when I’m upset and it makes me feel better.”

“Don’t touch me.”

*Damian walked to him, smiling softly* “cmon, i won’t hurt you, silly. I’m robin.”

“A bird?”

“Haha- no, a vigilante- i sorta snuck out. My family can be a bit overbearing- and I sorta embarrassed myself at this theater thing.. some person—“

“Did I ask?”

“No.. sorry.”

“Hey— what are you doing - !”

“Hugging you.”

Jon won’t admit that he likes it, it’s different and weird, like this traffic cone in front of him. Jon pushed him off though, making himself stumble and fall on his ass.

“Ow..”

“Don’t touch me.” With rhat, Jon flew off into the night. Damian didn’t know who this boy was. But he intended on finding out. Even if it killed him. ( maybe not that extreme, but- )

• look damian was smart, right? smarter than average, and smarter than everyone in his school. teachers included ( ha ha )

• so he had to find this boy! so he started looking into aliens. until his family put an end to it

“Damian, this is dangerous.”

“But baba ( dad )”

“No. Go to your room.”

“Ugh!”

• he did slam his door shut if you were wondering

• he will find the mysterious alien boy, okay? he will!

• his brothers teased him and said he had a crush

• no he didn’t! the boy was really mean, he pushed damian- why would he do that? whatta jerk!

• but damian did find him again when he ventured off to metropolis to visit an old friend, colin.

“Alien boy!”

“That’s not my name, bird boy.”

“And that’s not mine. You didn’t tell me yours!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s safer for you.”

“I can defend myself. You sound so silly, please tell me your name?”

“No.”

“‘Least the first initial?”

“Fine. J.”

“J it is.”

“Yours?”

“Wha- what? I told you my code named.”

“It’s only fair.”

“.. Okay. D.”

“D. Okay.”

• damian talked to him for a bit before jon did fly off when damian was talking about the stars, damian knew he was getting closer to him

• but he got grounded. whoops. he wasn’t supposed to go out

“Give me your phone, Damian.”

“What if I go out? I need a phone, baba.”

“I.. Your computer”

“School work.”

“Switch.”

“What! No- but-!”

“Damian.”

• yeah damian was very mad, but what made him madder was that apparently, his family was listening to the secret conversations between J and him. but d didn’t know that yet..

• his family needed to track down J, they didn’t care if people were aliens, the JL had aliens.. but they had no idea who this boy was, and the way damian was looking into the underground alien sanctuary, that worried rhem. Damian was smart and cunning, but he is able to portray an innocent persona, they all had the habit of undermining his intellect, so if damian began looking into this, it was for a reason

—

• jon found that D rambled. A lot. Even when jon didn’t respond. Jon doesn’t even know how D always found where he was. It’s so weird.

• but Lois noticed a change in jon.. he was. calmer. she didn’t know how, but when he went out, he came back calmer.

“I have to go to Gotham for a gala hosted by Bruce Wayne, would you.. like to come?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I’d like you to, but you don’t have to.”

“.. Fine.”

—

• lois walked to bruce with Jon in tow.

• “bruce.” “Lois, looking lovely as always.. who is this?” “Jon, my son. Say hi, Jon.” “Hi..” “He can hang around one of my sons— Damian, if you want? I’m sure him and his friends would love to have Jon around.” “What do you say Jon? Would you like that?” “Not really..” “I assume you, Damian doesn’t bite. Not anymore. And he’s pretty accepting.” “.. Fine.”

• damian was called over by his father and he did a double take. J. Was here. In front of him. Damian just internally shrugged and held a hand out, “Hi! I’m Damian! Wanna go play with my friends! there’s a game room so we don’t have to be with the gross adults.. you can also just.. sit there. My friends are pretty.. Loud?” “Okay.”

• jon had to take his hand back from damian since damian began eagerly tugging him.

“Damian seems to be accepting him pretty easily.” “I hope they can be friends, Jon.. doesn’t have any. I have only recently got him from his.. father.” “Odd, does he go to school?” “No, not yet, I’m still trying to get him adjusted.” “Ah.. Damian goes to West-Reeves. Maybe he could go there?” “That private school? Bruce.. I cannot afford that- not all of us are millionaires.” “Mhm.. I could pay.” “I can’t let you do that.” “He could get a scholarship.” “In what?” “Academics or athletics.” “Ill.. Talk to him about it. “ “well, ms lane, I just go talk with potential partners, I’ll see you later.”

—

• j got accepted into west reeves under a athletic thingy.

• that was cool. they became best friends!

• sorta

• flashforward 5 years to 15, their dynamic only grew. Damian told Jon his identity, jon didn’t become a hero, but did learn how to stitch damian up because tje idiot showed up bleeding a lot.

• everything was going great

On the phone, Damian: J! J! Guess what’

J: you’re so loud, D, what?

D: I got the lead! In the play!

J: no fucking way?

D: way!

J: Good j—— *crash*

D: J-?

D: J- Jonathan?

D: oh no.

• the call was ended abruptly. Jon always finished his sentences. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong.

• so damian called Lois quickly and ran downstairs to the batcave, lois wasn’t picking up either, she normally always picked up or at least sent a text. She did neither

“Baba!”

“Damian? You should be asleep.”

“Something’s wrong! Somethings really wrong!”

“Jon and Lois- Jon- I heard a crash- and- and”

“Habibi.”

“Mama?”

“Breathe; tell me what’s wrong.”

“I was on a call with Jon.. I told him about the play since I wanted him to go and stuff. Then I heard a crash. And then the line went dead. I’m scared— what if something happened!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, what happened with Lois?”

“She didn’t pick up the phone— she normally does! Or she texts me and says she will call back!”

“Maybe she is asleep.”

“No! You need to believe me!”

“Damian, calm down, I do, we will go to see if they’re okay, you get back to bed.”

“No. I’m coming with.”

“No you arent.”

“But!”

“Listen to your father.”

• okay fine. He’ll listen, damian went back up to his room for half an hour before calling his friends to do a rescue mission. He had an extra suit in his room, he can do this.

• with his team, it consisted of shazam, abuse, nobody, and green lantern, himself too, of course.

• captain marvel picked him up once he was ready and they met up with the other 3.

Maya: you said he’s in trouble?

Dami: Yes.

Colin: than let’s go save him!

• they went and saved the bestie, nearly got killed too

• oh and now damians sorta probably grounded when batman shows up 🤡

J:You came for me..?

D:We all did.. why are you so surprised?

J: * wraps his arms around damian * thank you

D: i- yeah.. anytime. what’re friends for?

• friends. Jon liked that. Jon also liked the way Damian’s cheeks went red when jon hugged him

• jon knew he chuckled before Damian’s arms wrapped around him. hard. Damian was a hard hugger

• jon became a superhero at 16. Damian had even more of a reason to sneak into his window every night now! Lois had began thinking the two were dating

D: Us? Dating? Please! He is way too good for me!

J:

L: awwww, gosh, how haven’t you been swept off your feet yet?

J: he has, but he has rejected them all

D: what can I say? I’m a gay theater kid ( this is a /j i promise a big big joke ) so they gotta be dramatic enough to put up with me, AND they need to do something big and bold to actually catch my eye

L: *laughs* take notes, jon

J: mom!

• jon has gone to a few of Damian’s plays and to dress rehearsals

• he was also there to watch damian wreck a car during his drivers test

D: there was a fricking squirrel there, J!

J: are you sure? maybe you’re just a shitty driver?

D: you’re a shitty driver!

J: cmon don’t pout

D: ‘m not!

• he was pouting. oopsie. jon did get him ice cream after

• jon goes by abnormal, because he’s an alien and because I don’t have any other ideas

J: this girl asked me out

M: oh? who! tell us!

D: ..what?

J: yeah, in my physics class

T: ooh! get it, jonno

M: give us a name, coward!

J: her name is Charlotte— but she goes by charlie. she’s.. different. red head. pretty freckles—

M: pretty freckles? does Jonny have a crush?! Oh my gosh, our sons growing up, Tai!

T: im about to start sobbing

J: fuck offff— D?

D: huh?

J: you’re being quiet, you plotting??

D: uh. yeah! duh- *he nudged jons shoulder with his, forcing a grin* figuring out ways to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend.

J: sucha brat- * jon ended up putting Damian into a playfully chokehold *

• damian just played along. he just smiled and watched as jon began walking with her instead of their friend group

M: hey- kid- you alright?

D: I’m onto a year younger than you Maya.

M: tou didn’t answer the question

D: I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be? You’re silly.

• tai ended up pulling him aside

T: when are you going to tell him?

D: how am I supposed to when he basically has a girlfriend now?

T: are you just gonna sit there and pine all day??

D: yes, thank you for understanding

• he’s a stubborn little shit and will absolutely not confess, his best friend is happy, who is he to ruin that?

T: he’s totally jealous.

J: so- do you- do you think it’ll work? That he’ll be surprised?

T: totally

J: thank you for lending me your girlfriend, Maya

M: anytime- not literally- you aren’t having her again

• this was all a trick, sorry, d.. jon does like you

• ( hope you all saw that foreshadowing earlier :) )

• damian needed big and dramatic. jon was gonna do that. even if he was uh. sorta aloof and shy.

• he learned how to sing and play the guitar for Damian. maya and tai were gonna scatter flower petals onto the floor for Damian to follow ( they will tell him too too )

• the whole school will probably watch as Damian finally gets a big dramatic proposal

• damian will love it

M: just follow the petals!

D: I’m confused

M: trust us

• damian did and followed the petals and low and behold, jon kent with a guitar and small smile

D: j-jon?

J: hey. I wrote you a song

D: no you didn’t

J: shut up and listen dumbass

*after that amazing song of how Jon asked damian out to homecoming*

D: that was amazing

J: dramatic enough for you?

D: YES! ( damian went and sprinted to jon, hugging him so tightly before leaning in to kiss him ) we are boyfriends now right

J: yeah, idiot

D: ur the idiot

• I can’t add anymore because myphones really laggy, I hope you enjot

[soulmate-game]

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.

[takadasaiko]

Conflict of Interest (a Superman & Lois oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: His daughter’s relationship with Clark Kent has always been a conflict of interest for Sam, but never so much as it had been that day. Set after the main events of 1.12

Conflict of Interest

He had warned her. When Lois had dropped the bombshell that she'd agreed to marry Clark Kent, he'd warned her. She wasn't just marrying the bespeckled reporter that she'd fallen for - while lying to her for the first several months of their relationship and putting a bullseye on her back for the ones that followed - she was marrying Superman. Their lives would never be normal, no matter how much they wanted it to be. How much they pretended, because that's what it really was once the boys came along. Lois might know her husband's secret, but little boys that had no concept of the kind of danger they'd put their mother and themselves in? No, there was no way to tell them, and that left their parents lying to them, because their father - Lois' husband - wasn't normal. Earthquakes collapsed bridges during family dinner and supervillains didn't give a damn about PTA meetings.

Sam had hoped one of those warnings might stick all the way up to the wedding, but he'd raised a stubborn daughter. For a brief time he'd wavered back and forth on if he should assign one of his more promising up-and-comers to play liaison between Superman and the DOD. That didn't happen, though, and as he had stood on the Kent farm in full dress uniform and watched as the alien that the world had come to rely on so heavily lifted his laughing daughter up into his arms and spun her around, he had grimly started to come to terms with the fact that it never would. It was a clear conflict of interest and the military wouldn't blink twice before stripping him of all involvement with Superman if they ever found out. If they did that, though, Sam wouldn't be able to protect his little girl. To protect his family, and if he liked it or not, that included her husband.

They'd made it work, the two men finding a new and awkward balance between family and work. Sam had kept the casual meetings to a minimum. It wasn't until the boys were born that things started to get more complicated. Suddenly Lois wanted him around more. There were Christmas invites and birthdays, not to mention the once a year dinners that Martha Kent somehow thought he was required to attend. He even made it to the occasional pee wee football game or piano recital. Still, Sam was able to compartmentalize for the most part. He and Clark had lost the formal undertones of their conversations outside of the DOD and most days it was like talking to two separate people that wore the same face. So much so that Sam could almost understand how a pair of glasses somehow threw the world off his scent.

Somewhere along the way they got closer. Clark never approached him for parenting advice - Sam imagined that Lois had had a few warnings for him on that front - but there were moments when he caught the question behind the question the younger man was asking. His own father had been gone for years unless you counted some hologram something or the other that had access to the history of his home planet that apparently took on his biological father's form, and it was clear that Clark held a respect for Sam, even if there were a frustrating amount of times that they didn't see eye-to-eye on something. Personal conversations were had behind closed doors and eventually, as long as no one else was around, he became Clark even in red and blue. He was, no matter what name others referred to him as at that very moment, his son-in-law. He was family, and Sam always did whatever he thought was necessarily to protect his family. Sure, it was a conflict of interest, but one that he had told himself benefited everyone in the long run. He helped to protect his daughter's husband and, in turn, his daughter's husband helped protect the world.

He had just never expected to have to choose.

Clark Kent was many things, and one of those was steadfast in his devotion to the world that had welcomed him. He felt a responsibility, he'd told Sam time and again, and Sam believed him. That's why the four star general had thought that the worst case scenario that he'd authorized John Henry for was going to be just that. He'd been firm with Lois - give her an inch and she'd take a mile with it - and was treating it like any other threat. It wasn't until Irons was boots on the ground and Superman had laid him out like a ragdoll that it became evident that the worst case was also the reality and Sam was left with two choices: trust the man that he'd come to respect or take out the alien threat before he could destroy the very people that he'd once loved.

It couldn't be a conflict of interest. The world depended on it.

And with that, Sam had authorized Irons to put his son-in-law down like a rabid dog.

A long, loud car horn dragged him out of the horrible day's memory and Sam realized he'd simply stopped his SUV at the point he should have hung right down the dirt road leading to the Kent farm. A neighbor he was blocking down the east-bound lane made a frustrated gesture as he swerved around him and Sam steeled himself to make the turn. Well, they'd left the lights on for him. Apparently he was still an acceptable guest even if maybe not a welcomed one. It was fine. It was late enough that the household would be asleep and he could grab a quick shower and sleep for a few hours before hitting the ground running the next morning with the sun. After some rest maybe he could find the words to tell Lois… something. He was proud of her, he wished he'd had her resolve, he was sorry he put her through that. Something. Heaven knew she deserved it and he had promised things were going to be different.

Sam pulled the SUV up and parked it in front of the white paneled farmhouse before he killed the engine. His overnight bag was already in the guest room and he all but fell out of the vehicle, exhaustion snapping at his heels. He trudged up the path and was at the next-to-top step before he realized that he wasn't alone. "Clark," he greeted roughly, drawing the younger man's attention over to him from where he was leaning heavily against the railing that lined the porch.

"Sam. Hey. Get everything wrapped up?"

"We'll be wrapping up for a few more days, but we have -"

"Can it wait 'til morning?"

The question stopped Sam mid-sentence and he registered the pained expression on his son-in-law's face. A little pale, a little hunched over. He looked beyond exhausted. "You doin' alright?"

Clark forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "All alone in here," he promised, tapping a finger to the side of his head. "Just like the scans said."

"I know they did." Sam shifted his weight, feeling oddly uncomfortable under that blue-green gaze he'd long since become accustomed to. He loosed a long breath. "Listen, Clark…"

"If this is going to be an apology, I don't need one. I don't want one."

"I did give John Henry the green light to kill you."

"And it was the right call."

"Clark."

"In the moment, it was the right call." He grimaced and plucked his glasses from their place so that he could squeeze the bridge of his nose. There was a long, tense silence between them before he put them back, the weight not lifting off of him as he did. "He would have killed everybody we love."

"He?"

"The Kryptonian Tal-Roh tried to use me to resurrect," Clark answered softly.

Sam moved a little closer to better hear him. Not everyone on the property had super hearing. "Who was he?"

His gaze was distant, fixed on the cornfield that stretched out beyond the house he had grown up in. "A general. Zod. My father - Jor-El - knew him, but I only know the highlights. They're nothing compared to having him battering around your head even for a few hours."

"Is this someone we should be concerned about moving forward?"

"I don't think so. I think it was all or nothing. Either he won or I did."

"Glad you came out on top."

"Me too." He perked up, head swiveling towards the door like he heard something and Sam saw a shadow before his daughter became visible. She was dressed for bed in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt with a Smallville High crow on it. Her house shoes had quieted her steps.

"Dad," she greeted, though it half sounded like a question as she pushed through the screen door. "It's freezing out here." Well, at least it didn't sound like she was about to turn him away. She did, however, turn to Clark. "The fresh air helping your headache?"

"A little."

"No one gets away from that one, huh?" Sam murmured, thinking about the one constant response from everyone they'd spoken to the night the Kryptonian consciousnesses had been ripped from them.

Clark gave a small, mirthless chuckle. "First one I've ever had. I think it's safe to say I'm not a fan."

The attempt at a joke tugged very slightly at the corner of Sam's lips and he risked a glance back at his daughter. Lois, though, was focused in with a worried expression on Clark. The tiny smile instantly vanished. "I'll let you two get some rest."

That brought her attention back around. "Is there any update?"

"It can wait 'til morning," he echoed Clark's earlier request. "Good night."

Sam thought he heard a quiet response as he pushed through the screen door and into the house. Shower, then bed. Tomorrow would be a new day and by then he was sure he'd know how to say what needed to be said. How to convey that, despite what Clark had just said, he disagreed. He hadn't made the right call that day. He should have taken a page from Lois' book and had a little more faith in the man that had proven himself time and time again.

And he would. It was time to end the conflict of interest and choose his family.

---

Notes: I've been wanting to write a one shot touching on Sam and Clark's relationship for some time now. I have two unfinished fics, but apparently this is the one that I could finish, so here we are.

Seriously considering a second chapter that follows Clark and Lois after Sam leaves and their conversation between his return and the next morning's debrief. Anyone interested?

[aion-rsa]

Clark Gable and His WW2 Death Wish

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Clark Gable did not intend to see action when World War II came to America. Which is not to say he ignored the war. Gable was there that day in 1940 when President Franklin Roosevelt gave his famous “Arsenal of Democracy” speech from the Oval Office. And, indeed, the first thing the movie star did when he heard about the Pearl Harbor attack was cable FDR to offer his full support—and, tellingly, the besieged president promptly answered right back.

But then in the 1930s and early ‘40s, Gable was “the King of Hollywood;” the reigning movie star who could sell more tickets than anybody this side of Shirley Temple, and he didn’t have to sing or dance to do it either. He was a mustachioed and muscular alpha who appealed to everybody, even presidents, and was one of the few leading men who would tell Louis B. Mayer no (at least until casting for Gone with the Wind came along). The government saw the value in that kind of celebrity when the dark storm clouds of war gathered over Europe and the South Pacific, and so did Gable. Still, he was practically 41 when the bombs fell in Hawaii and more than happy to support the war from afar.

As he told fellow MGM stablemate Jimmy Stewart at the latter’s going away party in 1940—Stewart had just happily joined the Army—“You know you’re throwing away your career, don’t you?” When Stewart answered yes, Gable added, “You won’t catch me doing that, but I wish you godspeed.”

Gable had success, Gable had power, and for the first time in his four decades on this earth, Gable had something approaching peace thanks to his marriage to Carole Lombard, the firecracker screwball star. Yet in less than a year, all of those things turned to ash following Lombard’s violent death. When her plane went down in a fiery blaze, it was treated as a national tragedy around the country, and for her husband it was the beginning of the end.

The King became broken, despondent, and finally disillusioned enough to enlist in the U.S. Army Air Corps. To this day, some say he went to Europe with a death wish, and on at least one bombing raid, Capt. Gable almost had it granted as a Luftwaffe shell passed right between his feet.

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard posing for photographers shortly after their marriage in 1939.

The King and Queen of Hollywood

Women were always easy for Clark Gable, and for a time so were wives. The first Mrs. Gable was Josephine Dillon, 17 years his senior, and she was introduced to him as an acting coach by another woman who was his then-fiancée. As a handsome, if unrefined son of an Ohioan farmer, the 23-year-old Gable was perfect clay for Dillon. She turned him into her greatest student, teaching him how to lower his voice and hold your attention. As his patron and wife, Dillon also introduced Gable to all her Broadway connections and the adjacent stock companies. It was even as the star of one of those companies that he met Maria Langham, a wealthy widow and oil heiress who was also 17 years his senior. 

As the second Mrs. Gable, Ria introduced Gable to Manhattan’s high society and exquisite living, teaching him social etiquette and the value of a finely tailored tuxedo. One wife taught him how to play at being an actor, and the other taught him how to play at being a gentleman. They served their purposes and they were both brushed off.

But Lombard? He couldn’t brush her off ever.

The first time Clark met Carole, it was a surprisingly chaste affair. The two were cast as the leads of 1932’s No Man of Her Own. Unlike many of his leading ladies in the 1930s, Gable made no passes at Lombard, who was married to movie star William Powell at the time and intended to remain that way. Nevertheless, they hit it off, as the breathlessly quick-witted Lombard did with almost everyone.

Gable wasn’t yet “the King of Hollywood” then, but he was well on his way. Two years later, he’d star in the film that popularized screwball comedies, It Happened One Night (1934), which won him an Oscar for Best Actor, and two years after that he would lead the granddaddy of all disaster movies, San Francisco (1936). By ’38, he was already Tinseltown royalty when then-gossip columnist Ed Sullivan overheard Gable’s drinking buddy and sometime-rival, Spencer Tracy, affectionately refer to him as “King.” Sullivan immediately lit upon the idea of holding a national poll for the “King and Queen of Hollywood.”

More than 20 million people voted and, by a huge majority, Gable was crowned “King” for the rest of his career. Meanwhile, Myrna Loy was elected “Queen of Hollywood.” The fact they were then filming MGM’s Test Pilot (with Tracy) certainly suggests the results might’ve been tampered with. It also likely struck Loy as ironic since her first encounter with Gable ended with her pushing him into a hedge bush after he drunkenly bit the back of her neck while his second wife, Ria, was sitting in a nearby car. Gable refused for years to talk to Loy socially after that rejection, including between takes on film sets.

So yes, the King was a womanizer—complete with a secret baby born out of wedlock to co-star Loretta Young—in a sham marriage at the beginning of his reign. But things began changing when he finally ran into Lombard again, and at last he found his matching monarch.

It was at the White Ball in 1936 that the pair’s paths crossed a second time. By now, Clark was fully estranged from Ria, and the two lived in separate houses. Lombard, meanwhile, had risen to her own stardom by bringing her transgressive life-of-the-party persona to recent screwball comedies directed by Howard Hawks and Ernst Lubitsch. Vivacious, whip smart, and an eventual inspiration for Marion Ravenwood in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Lombard was a hard-drinking and giddy star with her own orbit.

According to Clark Gable: A Biography by Warren G. Harris, when Gable saw Lombard on the dance floor, he went up and said, “I go for you, Ma.” After a moment’s confusion, Lombard realized he was quoting their characters’ nicknames for each other in No Man of Her Own from four years earlier. She responded, “I go for you too, Pa.”

For the rest of their lives, they’d always refer to each other as “Ma” and “Pa.”

Clark Gable and Carole Lombard play with horses at the Encino ranch in 1939.

The Love of His Life

That first night on the dance floor actually ended in the pair’s first of many fights. But in a trick that would come to define the pattern of their relationship, Gable woke up the next morning in his hotel room with two doves sitting on his chest. They’d been secreted there with a note on one’s leg: “How about it? Carole.” 

Unlike Gable’s other romantic entanglements, Lombard always controlled the tone and tempo of their courtship while Gable offered Lombard an escape from the glamour goddess, society girl image she’d molded herself to in Hollywood. She was an athlete growing up and, alongside Pa, she picked up outdoor-living again.

Clark taught Carole rifling, skeet-shooting, and camping. In ’38, she joined what had up to that point been Gable’s all-male hunting club with fellow actors and Hollywood talent. When the other men complained about a woman being present and sharing their bathroom, she brought along her own trailer with a private bathroom—taunting Clark and the others by then keeping him out. She crawled in the mud next to the dudes, and would soon be on all of the Gables’ hunting trips.

The pair eloped in ’39 after three years of courtship. This occurred in large part because Photoplay magazine revealed the two were living in sin (Gable was still married and too chintzy to get a divorce). Shortly after the embarrassment, however, Gable paid off his second wife and Lombard became the third Mrs. Gable.

“I just think of that husband of mine all the time,” Lombard once said with her usual candor. “I’m really stuck on the bastard. And it isn’t all that great lover crap, because if you want to know the truth, I’ve had better. No, I’m nuts about him and not just about his nuts.”

When the two moved into their Encino ranch, Gable made his gun collection the centerpiece when you walked in the front door, and Lombard began raising chickens and cattle. It was about as far from Beverly Hills as you could get, or as Lombard enthused, “The best little shit house in the San Fernando Valley.”

It was here that Lombard planned to soon retire, beginning with a one-year sabbatical in an effort to have children. Yet after a year of trying, they only had two miscarriages to show for it. They agreed to keep trying, but they’d soon run out of chances.

Clark Gable and wife Carole Lombard circa 1940.

The Loss of His Life

When the bombs fell in Pearl Harbor, it was Carole who urged Clark to telegraph Roosevelt as soon as possible. She was also in the White House for the president’s fireside chat in 1940. And unlike Gable, she was furious when the president responded, “You are needed where you are.”

With the war finally here, Lombard urged Gable to join the Army in December 1941 while she hoped to join the Red Cross. For Christmas, instead of her usual lavish presents she sent all her friends engravings announcing she’d made a donation to the Red Cross in their name. And when she got wind of MGM publicity chief Howard Strickling trying to position Gable for a safe desk job in Washington D.C. for the course of the war, she told both men, “The last thing I want for Pappy is one of those phony commissions!”

Gable preferred helping the war where FDR told him he should—from the comfort of Hollywood. On Dec. 22, 1941, he presided over the first meeting of the Screen Actors Division of the Hollywood Victory Committee as its newly appointed chairman. The committee functioned as a way for Hollywood stars and leaders to organize all activities in support of the war effort. His wife was the first at the meeting to pledge her cooperation in donations, bond rallies, and touring the troops.

When a request came from the Treasury Department for the Victory Committee to launch Indiana’s participation in the national campaign of selling war bonds on Jan. 15, 1942, Gable recognized his Indiana-born wife as the perfect talent to send along. Carole was thrilled to go, although apprehensive about leaving Clark behind.

Gable couldn’t join his wife on her journey by train because he was about to start work on Somewhere I’ll Find You: his second film with Lana Turner. Up until then, Carole had been very open-minded about Gable’s continued infidelities and little affairs, even after they were married. She turned a blind eye to more than one rumor of him sleeping with a co-star here, or a starstruck journalist there, because she assumed you had to let Clark Gable be Clark Gable. But she drew the line over rumors about Clark and Lana, the latter of whom was infamously dubbed the “Sweater Girl” when she was discovered at a soda fountain at age 16. Blonde and buxom, Turner was 20-years-old when she first worked with the 40-year-old Gable. These stories did get to Lombard.

The evening before she left for Indiana, the couple had a huge blowout during which Clark failed to convince his wife he never slept with Lana Turner. The last night Gable and Lombard were under the same roof, they slept in different beds. The next morning, he did not see his wife off to the train station.

As with many of their fights, things cooled almost immediately. Before she left, Lombard still delivered a pack of handwritten love letters to her live-in secretary Jean Garceau to deliver to Clark, one at a time, everyday she was away. She also had the prank she planned before their fight still be delivered, so when Gable returned home from work that night he found a naked blonde dummy in his bed with a note. “So you won’t be lonely.” Gable reportedly laughed until he had tears in his eyes.

According to Garceau when the two talked by phone the next night, they sounded like “lovebirds” again. And according to the You Must Remember This podcast, Gable had Carole’s hotel room in Indianapolis be covered in red roses when she got in. But before even then, Lombard’s train stopped in Salt Lake City where she saw the troops marching and immediately telegraphed her husband, “HEY PAPPY, YOU’D BETTER GET INTO THIS MAN’S ARMY.”

On Jan. 15, Lombard intended to raise $500,000 in war bonds. Instead, she raised over $2 million. Afterward, she was so eager to get home to Gable following their fight that she decided she’d fly back to California instead of returning by train. This was expressly forbidden by the Treasury Department. Commercial travel was still relatively dicey, and they feared she’d be a target for Nazi saboteurs. Additionally, she was traveling with her mother Elizabeth Peters, a superstitious woman who’d never flown and was deathly afraid to start now. She was also there with Otto Winkler, Gable’s publicist and buddy who was best man at their wedding.

The morning their flight was to leave Indianapolis, Otto got Carole to at least agree to a coin toss. Heads they fly, tails they take the train. Carole won. From Indianapolis, they would make multiple stops, including Wichita, Albuquerque, and Las Vegas. TWA Flight Number 3 never reached Burbank.

That night Gable arranged a surprise party to welcome the three heroes back—as well as a surprise male dummy with an erection waiting for Carole upstairs. He was reportedly giddy waiting for the phone call from limo driver Larry Barbier, who was supposed to report when they landed. Instead, Clark got a call from MGM fixer Eddie Mannix.

“Can I get back to you?” Gable asked. “I’m expecting word on Ma’s arrival any minute.”

Mannix cut him off. “King, that’s why I’m calling. Larry Barbier just phoned from the airport. Carole’s plane went down just a few minutes after it left Las Vegas.” She was gone.

Clark Gable stands next to co-pilot Lt. Col. Robert W Burns beneath B-17 “The Duchess” after bombing raid in September 1943.

Clark Gable Goes to War

The fallout from the literal wreckage of Lombard’s flight was national news. A bewildered Gable joined Mannix and other MGM brass for their own chartered flight to Vegas. He could see the burning debris that Lombard’s flight smeared across Table Rock Mountain from the air. Locals in the city described it as “apocalyptic” and like an “inferno.”

Mannix refused to let Gable go on the rescue party climbing the mountain—convincing him Carole, Otto, and Bettie might have survived and were now walking to the city. So the star stayed behind and drank. The next morning, he received a cable from Mannix. “NO SURVIVORS. ALL KILLED INSTANTLY.”

In truth, the bodies of Lombard and everyone else on board had been more or less cremated by the fire after impact. And while Mannix couldn’t be certain, he believed he found what was left of Carole: a decapitated, charred body with a few blonde strands of hair and the remnants of a ruby and diamond pin Gable had given his wife the year before. He never told Clark about what he saw, but brought back the hairs and piece of ruby.

The next day, FDR sent Gable private condolences and publicly awarded Lombard a medal as “the first woman to be killed in action in the defense of her country in its war against the Axis powers.”

The official and (likely) reason for that flight’s crash is it was overloaded with servicemen and movie star luggage, and the pilot failed to see the mountain in front of him, on which all lights had been turned off to preserve wartime power. Although, according to Orson Welles (as per You Must Remember This), Hollywood and government insiders all knew Nazi saboteurs did in fact bring down the plane, and Roosevelt covered it up to prevent a nationwide panic.

In the months that followed, Gable grew quiet and despondent, losing 20 pounds despite drinking untold amounts of Scotch every day. He dined alone for all meals and began wearing a locket with Carole’s hair and ruby remnants within. According to household staff, he rarely slept and stayed up all hours of the night watching 16mm prints of Lombard’s old movies he had sent over (she’d given him the projector as a Christmas present). Now he had time for no woman except the one he lost.

When he discovered MGM was still trying to keep him from being drafted—with the age range now being raised to 45—Gable grew furious. A scriptwriter pal put him in touch with Col. Luke Smith of the Army Air Corps, who told Gable he should consider applying for training as an aerial gunner since it’s one of those jobs no one seems interested in.

“Everybody wants to be a pilot,” Smith told Gable. “Your becoming a gunner would help to glorify the plane crews and the grease monkeys.” Gable made up his mind to enlist in spite of the wrath of MGM head Louis B. Mayer. He also defied the constraints of his age of 41 by passing the physical—save for the need of getting triplicates of his new dentures (Gable had false teeth his whole career).

On Aug. 12, 1942, Gable enlisted into the Army air force. Right beforehand he told Jill Winkler, Otto’s widow, “I’m going in, and I don’t expect to come back, and I don’t really give a hoot whether I do or not.”

Capt. Gable posing for the press with a gunner’s weapon in June 1943.

The Aerial Gunner with a Death Wish

There is still much speculation over whether Gable actually wanted to die in World War II. His superiors eventually reached that conclusion based on his cavalier attitude, and he at least seemed ambivalent about the whole affair. However, it is interesting he joined the air force considering that, after Lombard’s death, he developed a fear of flying for the rest of his life. Following the war, he would always prefer to make his transatlantic crossings by ocean liners instead of planes.

But during the war? Frankly, he didn’t seem to give a damn one way or the other.

Gable’s biggest fear during the whole conflict was his struggle to pass officer’s training in a 90-day course stateside. A high school dropout, Gable was challenged by the academic course work, which he ultimately got around by treating each textbook like a script he needed to memorize.

Once he was an officer (and allowed to grow back his trademark mustache), he seemed in relatively good spirits for the first time in months. Before going overseas, he told Garceau, “I have everything in the world anyone could want, but for one thing. All I really need and want is Ma.”

In April 1943, Gable was shipped off to join the 351st Heavy Bombardment Group in Peterborough, England, about 80 miles north of London. Gable also received an automatic promotion to the rank of captain, although this had as much to do with the heavy losses of Allied officers as it did with Gable’s leadership.

In truth, Gable likely enjoyed playing the part of officer more than he entirely became it. The military loved letting him pose for the press as a gunner with a bombardier’s bullets wrapped around his neck, but that wasn’t his actual job. While Gable did on at least two occasions take on the role of aerial gunner in combat, his official role was as an observational gunner—he was there to pick up the weapons in the side or rear of a B-17 if the gunner operating it was injured or killed (which did happen).

Otherwise, Gable was there because the Army wanted him to film footage they could use as propaganda, glorifying the role of gunners. While in officer’s school, the Army reunited Gable with cinematographer Andy McIntyre, who would become his sidekick and cameraman in the air. And after his graduation, Gable arranged the transfer of his scriptwriting buddy John Lee Mahin, then a lieutenant serving as an instructor in Combat Intelligence, to join them. In all, Gable and McIntyre built a film crew of six men to film the other fliers on B-17 missions. They were called “the Little Hollywood Group.”

More than twice the age of many of the pilots and gunners he flew with, Gable found himself facing heavy skepticism in his early training.

“None of the kids believed he was going to do anything at all,” Mahin recalled in Warren’s Clark Gable biography. “They never thought he was going to expose himself to any kind of danger. They said it was all a lot of bullshit. It really killed Clark that the kids shunned him.”

The brass, however, loved Gable at first. Many of his superiors invited him nearly every night to dinner, an annoyance he’d soon relegate to one evening a week. And while he welcomed the press to photograph him at the planes, he also refused the special treatment of having private quarters set up, which earned him more respect from the young fliers.

He’d also soon prove himself as a member of Col. William Hatcher’s Chickens (a nickname for his bombing group) when he went up in the air on May 4, 1943. Hatcher was onboard the same B-17 that day as group commander and co-pilot; the 351st were tasked with taking out several factories in Nazi-occupied Antwerp, Belgium.

During Gable’s first combat mission, flak from ground defenses took out one of the plane’s four engines and its stabilizer. More unnervingly, after delivering the plane’s payload, a German’s 20mm shell pierced the center of the plane, with the corner of the shell passing through the heel of Gable’s boot—lifting it clean off—and then exiting the aircraft inches above Gable’s head.

On another mission, Gable took over for gunners who were wounded or killed (there was at least one of each that day). Fifteen holes were found in the fuselage. For Gable, such horrors were also a vindication, as he fully won the respect of the kids around him.

“They adored him,” Mahin recalled. “They couldn’t stay away from him. And he was proud that they accepted him.”

Portrait of Capt. Gable after arriving in England in 1943 as part of the the 351st Bombardment Group.

Hitler’s Prize

At Peterborough, Gable grew increasingly chummy with the other fliers serving. He bought a used motorcycle and would make small talk on trips around the base. And on more than a few weekends, he would head to London to screen at MGM offices some of the footage he shot in the air. He also would meet with his pre-war Hollywood chum, David Niven, who was serving as an instructor for British Commandos and had recently married and had a son.

“From then on our cottage became Clark’s refuge from military life,” Niven recalled. “With Carole’s death, he had been dealt the cruelest of blows, but on the surface at least, he was making the best of it. In his own deep misery, he found it possible to rejoice over the great happiness that had come my way, and he became devoted to my little family.”

Niven added, “Clark’s personal wounds seemed to be healing, but Carole was never far from him, and the very happiness of our little group would sometimes overwhelm him. [My wife] found him one evening on an upturned wheelbarrow in the garden, his head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably.”

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Still, Gable seemed to be settling into a new happy rhythm of camaraderie on the base, frequent trips to London, and even playing the field. He renewed an affair with a pre-Lombard paramour in London, the English (and now married with children) Elizabeth Allan. Nonetheless, he may have been enjoying himself too much for his superiors’ liking.

Robert Matzen, author of Mission: Jimmy Stewart and the Fight for Europe and Fireball: Carole Lombard and the Mystery of Flight 3, told me he believed Gable had a death wish.

“Carole Lombard, his wife, wanted him to go fight and she’s killed,” Matzen said. “So he then decides, ‘Alright, I’ll go fight and hopefully I’ll be killed too.’ That’s why he wanted to be in the Eighth Air Force, because he wanted to die in a plane crash.” Also, unlike Stewart, Matzen stressed, Gable never fully adapted to military culture.

Said Matzen, “Gable was much more interested in being Clark Gable in England than Jim Stewart was interested in being Jimmy Stewart in England.” This weighed on the mind of Col. Hatcher, as did the growing understanding that every B-17 Gable was on became a prize for Nazi Germany.

The day the 351st arrived in England, Nazi radio propagandist William Joyce, aka “Lord Haw Haw,” broadcast from Berlin the following: “Welcome to England, Hatcher’s Chickens. Among whom is famous American cinema star, Clark Gable. We’ll be seeing you soon in Germany, Clark. You will be welcome there too.”

Adolf Hitler apparently adored Clark Gable, considering him his favorite American actor. A movie nut with a love for British and Hollywood cinema, Hitler even allegedly smuggled a film print of Gone with the Wind before it opened in the UK. Hitler therefore marked Gable as one of the most prized “war criminals” in the Allied Forces, offering a handsome reward to any German soldiers who can bring Gable to him alive.

The actor was terrified of being paraded through Berlin like King Kong and was only half-joking when he told a friend, “If Hitler catches me, the sonofabitch will put me in a cage like a gorilla and send me on a tour of Germany. If a plane that I’m in ever gets hit, I’m not bailing out.”

While his superiors might’ve appreciated the sentiment, they feared the humiliating spectacle of one of their gunners becoming a Nazi political tool—or the actor putting a bigger target on their bombing group. Additionally, Gable didn’t follow protocol as intended, at one point threatening a military doctor after the physician apparently said nonchalantly that Gable’s pal had hours to live while the young man was awake and listening. And, again, the opinion became that he wanted to be shot down.

So it was in October 1943, after only five combat missions, Capt. Gable was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Air Medal for “exceptionally meritorious achievement while participating in five separate bomber combat missions.” Hatcher apparently pulled the strings to get Gable out.

Clark Gable in 1960 on the set of his last film, The Misfits, with Marilyn Monroe and Montgomery Clift.

The End

Even though Gable’s time in combat ended in October of ’43, he still wound up with 50,000 feet of film at his disposal. He was apparently shocked when he learned the air force really didn’t care what he did with the footage since gunner recruitment was up. So he returned to Los Angeles, having been reassigned to the city’s photographic division. Allowed to cut the film at MGM, Gable put together five short films that could be used for instruction on operating B-17s. But by the time it made its way through the Pentagon’s chain of command… the war was over. The footage mostly still lies unused in government archives.

After finishing the films, Gable had expected to be assigned to a new bombing division in the Pacific Theater. As he waited months for the orders to come in, he found out on the news about the D-Day landing in Europe on June 6, 1944. Feeling forgotten and discarded by the Air Corps, he requested to be discharged on June 12, which was his right as a volunteer over the age of 42. A captain named Ronald Reagan granted Gable his discharge after 670 days of service.

Clark eventually re-acclimated to Hollywood and restarted his career, but by 1945 his days as “the King” were waning, and he saw more flops accompany his diminishing hits. He also had many more affairs with leading ladies, extras, and socialites. But for years he refused to marry, telling friends, “It wouldn’t be fair. I have nothing left to give.”

For the rest of his life, Clark mourned Carole, including on Jan. 15, 1944 when he was on hand for the launch of the SS Carole Lombard. Gable was supposed to speak at the event. Instead, he mostly cried.

Eventually he did remarry, twice, and finally had one child who wasn’t disowned in secret. But after the star died of a heart attack at age 59 in 1960, his fifth wife, Kay Williams, honored his final wishes: Gable was interred at Glendale’s Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Next to Ma.

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[cdelphiki]

Bruce could tell instantly that Damian’s night had been a rough one. 

Aside from the obvious bruising on his arms, an unusual occurrence, despite what one might expect considering his nighttime hobby, his son looked worn down. And the way he just kind of, plopped down on the couch next to Bruce was the real indicator of how rough his night really was. 

Because Damian just looked…. defeated. In a way he hadn’t looked in, well, perhaps years. 

The worrisome thing, however, was tonight was one of his ‘adventuring’ nights, as Clark called it. His little playdate with the Kent boy, as they tromped around Metropolis and Gotham and found cases to solve. 

It was cute, Bruce hated to admit, how Damian and Jon ran around. They were doing good work, solid cases and everything. But something about the two of them, together, while working the cases just brought a smile to Bruce’s face. 

His kid was being a kid, he had finally realized, maybe five playdates into his and Clark’s grand scheme to make the boys friends. 

And it had worked. Damian and Jon were the best of friends now. At times, they were inseparable. Bruce had even sprung to send Damian to school in another city, just to foster that connection he finally had to another child. 

But Damian was supposed to come home from his adventure nights happy. Not defeated. 

“What did you do tonight?” Bruce asked, his voice a low rumble, just audible above the crackle coming from the fireplace. The cold night wind howling against the window. He pretended to continue reading his book, while he waited for Damian to answer. 

He’d been waiting up for Damian, as he always did when the boy stayed out late, but would never admit that were the case. Damian would likely throw a tantrum about trust and not being a child. 

Never was it acceptable to say, ‘but you are a child,’ to him. No matter how Bruce phrased that, Damian never appreciated it. But Bruce was glad Damian was a child, because he’d already missed so much of Damian’s life. He wasn’t about to wish away a single second more of his childhood. 

Damian shifted, tilted his head just slightly, before he finally said, “We saved Ms. Lane from a sniper.”

Bruce couldn’t help it. His eyebrows shot right up. He trusted the boys, he did, but that sounded like something they probably should have brought him and Clark in on. Since it involved his wife and all.

“Wow,” he said, after pausing a moment to make sure no anger would come out in his voice, “Who was the sniper? What was the motivation?”

The response Damian gave was not at all what he was expecting. Some gang, maybe. Or a hitman hired by a politician Lois had written a hit piece on. Or, hell, some random villain wanting to hurt Superman. 

But no. Because Damian took a deep, shuttering breath, before simply saying, “Mother.” 

And Bruce couldn’t help the sharp breath he took at the mention of the woman. 

“She was just trying to get my attention,” Damian said, before Bruce could ask. He pulled his feet up onto the couch and sat there, criss cross, right next to Bruce. Staring off into the fire.

Bruce… didn’t really know what to do. What to say. Damian’s relationship with Talia was… complicated. He knew she had been a loving mother to him, at one point. That Damian had adored and loved her, even after he’d come to live with Bruce. But in recent years, really ever since Talia disowned him, he’d become more jaded in his view of his mother. 

It was a shame. No boy deserved to have such a difficult relationship with a parent. Especially not his mother. 

“She-” Damian started, then paused to clear his throat. His hand twitched, from its spot on his knee. Like he wanted to rub at his face, but stopped himself. Bruce wished Damian felt safer breaking down in front of people. 

“She’s still the same. Exactly the same.”

He nodded, to Damian’s confession. Unsure really what to even say. Bruce pulled his leg up on the couch, however, so he could turn towards Damian better. He let his hand brush across Damian’s neck as he placed his arm behind his son’s back, and just sat there. Hoping to covey that he was there for Damian without invading his space too badly. Damian wasn’t always receptive to physical affection, but sometimes, if offered without being blatant about it, Damian would accept. 

“I’m just a weapon to her,” Damian whispered bitterly, finally reaching up to wipe at his cheek. Even though Bruce hasn’t seen a single tear escape his eye. “An object,” he added, with a touch more anger, scowling at the fire now. 

But Bruce could see it, in the way he pursed his lips. In the slight twitch of his eye, the quiver of his hand. He was grasping onto the anger to stave off the tears.

“Damian,” Bruce started, but then paused. Because he really wasn’t sure what to say. How to fix this, and make Damian not want to cry. ‘You are not a weapon to me,’ he could say, but Damian already knew that. ‘I’m sorry about your mother’ felt insincere. As did any false promises that ‘it will be okay’ or ‘she’ll come around.’ He couldn’t even say ‘She loves you,’ because Bruce wasn’t even sure that was true. 

And, God. How could anyone not love this child? 

It hurt, sometimes, how much he felt for Damian. Just seeing his son could elicit a jab right in his chest. Because he was just so damn glad to have the privilege of being Damian Wayne’s father. 

He wished Talia had felt the same. If only for Damian’s sake.

“Get your coat,” he settled on, startling Damian. Pulling him right out of his war between emotions. 

He blinked over at Bruce and asked, “What, Father?” 

“Your coat,” Bruce repeated, standing as he placed a bookmark in his book and tossed it at the coffee table, “and meet me at the Tesla.” 

“What about shoes,” Damian said dryly, wiggling his socked feet in Bruce’s direction. 

Bruce just smiled and turned from his retreat out of the room to say, “Won’t need them.”

“What?” Damian said again, this time even more confused, but Bruce didn’t give him an opportunity to continue his questions. Instead, he went to grab his own coat and start up the Tesla, so it would be nice and warm by the time Damian made his way out.

It would be a little chilly, after all, in just the thin cotton pajamas Damian was wearing. It wasn’t quite winter, but it had started dipping into the upper 30s at night. Far too cold for Bruce’s liking.

They didn’t talk much, once in the car. Damian asked only once, “Where are we going?” but Bruce had refused to answer.

“Trust me,” he had said, so Damian did. At least, he didn’t question Bruce again. Instead, he started fiddling with the radio, flipping through all 19 stations twice until he finally settled on an easy listening channel.

Not what Bruce would have expected from his 13-year-old, but he wasn’t complaining, either. He was pretty sure rap or… or dubstep would have really affected the more somber atmosphere in the car. Was dubstep still a thing? He was pretty sure that’s what Tim was into at 13. Or maybe that was Jason…

When Bruce pulled into the Sonic parking lot, Damian turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “What are we doing?” he asked, as Bruce parked next to one of the order boards.

“Strawberry cheesecake?” Bruce asked instead, smiling a little at the way Damian perked up, just slightly at the mention of his favorite milkshake flavor. He still didn’t look happy, but at least he wasn’t down enough to refuse a treat when offered.

“Yes,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and scooting his chair back as far as it would go. Not that he needed the extra space to sit criss cross. 

Bruce ordered them both the strawberry shakes, along side a large order of tatertots and mozzarella sticks. Neither of those for any particular reason, just because he enjoyed both fried monstrosities, and if he were going to cheat on his diet he might as well go all the way. 

It was for Damian, after all. That’s what he would tell himself. 

“There used to be this drive-in,” Bruce said, after he’d finished ordering and swiped his credit card as payment. He’d shut the window back and flicked on his seat warmer, too, just to help warm the car a little more. Make it more comfortable. 

Bruce had picked a spot where they could watch the traffic pass by on the road in front of them, and Damian seemed to be appreciating it, because he didn’t take his eyes off the cars to listen to Bruce.

“It was a little closer to the house,” he continued, “Dad would take me there, sometimes. He was a doctor, you know, and worked weird hours. Sometimes, after a particularly rough day, he’d come home and find me still awake, so we’d go to the drive-in in our pajamas and order milkshakes.” 

“Hm,” Damian said, looking down at his own pajamas and then back out at the cars ahead.

“It wasn’t usually for me,” Bruce said, following Damian’s gaze out toward the cars, “It was to help reorient himself and refocus on the good in his life. I knew that, even at 6. Just maybe not in those words.” 

“And you brought me here because…” Damian said, frowning. Shaking his head, a little. 

“Because we’ve both had rough days.” 

Damian stiffened and asked, “What happened on patrol tonight, Father? Did I miss something?” And Bruce hated how Damian got anxious, at the drop of the hat. 

“Oh, nothing,” he said easily, waving a hand at Damian, as if to dismiss all his concerns, brush away the unnecessary anxiety, “Patrol was fine. A little dull, if anything. 

“Tt. Did something happen at work?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows at Bruce, now, clearly absolutely baffled as to how Bruce could have had a bad day.

“No,” he said patiently, trying to smile reassuringly, “My son came home banged up and upset.”

“I- oh.” Damian blinked. Once. Twice. Then looked down at his lap, as if studying his hands were much more interesting than talking to Bruce. Or, perhaps, less scary. 

“I hate seeing you like that,” he offered. Meaning both upset and banged up, and anxious and uncomfortable talking to his own father. 

In a too-small voice for the boisterous 13-year-old Bruce knew and loved, Damian said, “I-I didn’t mean to bother you, Father.” 

“Damian,” Bruce said, pinching his nose. Because that was absolutely not what he had been thinking. 

He was so terrible at this. He always came across as an asshole, to all his children. Some were more prone to point it out than others, but Bruce could see it. And perhaps he was an asshole. If Damian’s first response was to blame himself and apologize for coming to Bruce when he was upset. 

God. 

“That was not what I meant. I meant-” Bruce sighed, so Damian turned to him and just sat there. Kind of staring. No real emotion registering on his face, but his eyes were so big and bright with the street lights and dash reflecting in them. The brilliant green of his iris flecked with the blue and yellow. Blinking at him, just waiting for whatever he had to say. 

“I just meant,” he continued, unable to look away from his son’s eyes, “I hate seeing you hurt. Not because it’s an inconvenience, but because you’re my son…”

Damian broke eye contact first, looking down as his face pinched, ever so slightly. His cheek twitched and his nose wrinkled. Bruce would have recognized what he was trying to prevent, even if he hadn’t looked away to hide the sheen of tears.

“…and I love you,” he finished, his own voice a little wet.

At that, Damian’s face crumpled completely, and he brought a hand up to rest against one side of his face. 

His crying was silent, as it always was. Barely there, hardly noticeable unless one was looking directly at his face. Bruce would never know, passing by Damian’s room, if he were crying alone. 

It was just another one of the many quirks that made up Damian Wayne. He wished Damian had never learned this skill, never needed to learn it, but he wouldn’t change his son for the world. 

Well, actually. If given the opportunity to trade the world for a happy, safe childhood for Damian, he might have a difficult time saying no. 

“Your mot-” he started, but then stopped as someone knocked on his window. Bruce scowled for Damian to see, not that he was even looking, then turned around with one of his aloof smiles plastered on his face. 

“Thank you,” he said, when the girl handed him a bag, two milkshakes, and his receipt. He placed the milkshakes in the cupholders, and the bag in Damian’s lap. Even though the boy was looking away now, trying to regain his composure, no doubt, before Bruce refocused his attention back on him. 

“My pleasure,” the far-too-chipper girl said for 4 in the morning, “Can I get you anything else?”

After answering in the negative and bidding her a good night, Bruce rolled the window back up and turned to face his son. 

Damian had smoothed out his expressions again, and was now staring down into the open bag, just looking down at the food inside. 

“Where was I?” Bruce mused, reaching over to pull the straws out of the bag and open them both, for the milkshakes, “Oh, yes. Your mother is a bitch.” 

That got a startled laugh out of Damian, who quickly clamped his hands over his mouth while he cut his eyes over at Bruce. He lowered his hands, but it seemed he couldn’t keep the tiny little smile off his face, even after Bruce had let the comment settle. 

“Look,” he said, sticking a straw in one of the milkshakes, then handing it to Damian, “I don’t know what happened to tonight, or what she said to you, but Damian… you are so much more than her son. You are not a weapon, for starters.”

“I know,” Damian said, nodding as he used his straw to mix the milkshake a little. 

“She may have had a hand in creating you, but so did I.”

When all Damian did was frown down at his milkshake, now resting in his lap, Bruce set his own down and turned in his seat so he was fully facing his son. He gently turned Damian’s head so he was looking at Bruce, then placed a hand on either side of his face.

“And, Damian, you are so much more than just something we created,” he said, patting a little, begging his words to penetrate. To bounce around and stick in there. Record themselves and replay, whenever necessary. 

“You are so much more than us,” he continued, “You are Damian Wayne, and I cannot put into words how much I admire you or how much I adore you.”

It was no surprise when he felt hot tears on his thumbs, from where Damian failed to keep them in. Because his own eyes were playing the same game, just perhaps not as quickly as Damian’s. 

Bruce pulled Damian’s head a little closer as he leaned down, so he could plant a kiss right on his forehead, all while wiping the tears away with his thumbs, “So don’t let whatever it is she said bring you down. You are perfect exactly as you are, I wouldn’t change a thing.” 

“Dad-” Damian choked out, fully devolving into sobs. Actual, noisy ones… or noisy for Damian, at least. Bruce let go long enough to take his milkshake and set it back in the cupholder, so Damian could throw his arms around Bruce. 

All Bruce did was hug back. Hold his son for as long as he needed. Replay that one little word over and over in his head. 

Because Damian was finally letting his hurt out, and there was no way he would cut it short. No matter how cold the mozzarella sticks got or how melted the milkshakes became. 

When Damian finally sat up, he scrubbed lazily at his face and smiled, a little lopsided, when Bruce offered a napkin. 

“So this is what your dad used to do with you?” he asked, after he’d blown his nose and picked up his milkshake. 

“Sure is.” Bruce grabbed the discarded bag and pulled out the box of mozzarella sticks. “Here, try one of these.” 

Damian did, but made a face at it when the cheese just broke apart. Not even a hint of stretchy, melty goodness. 

“They’re better warm. We’ll heat them up at home, and I’ll show you.” 

“I’ll take your word for it,” Damian said, dropping his half eaten cheese stick in the box with the others, “The milkshake is good, though.”

“Isn’t it? You have a good taste in favorites.”

And with that, Damian smiled fully, and took another long slurp of his milkshake, his smile not fading for the rest of their visit. 

The conversation shifted from topic to topic from there, straying between other ice cream flavors to school to upcoming plans. They didn’t talk about Damian’s night again, and Damian didn’t seem to even be thinking about it, anymore. 

As they drove home, and Damian dozed off in the seat next to him, he started thinking that maybe they’d have to start a new tradition. Clearly his dad was on to something, with the midnight drives to get milkshakes. 

It was, indeed, the perfect cure for a rough night. 

[archaeopter-ace]

Fic Writer Tag Gam

Tagged by @eurazba​ and @im-the-king-of-the-ocean​, thanks!

Fandoms: (I’m going to name all the ones that were ever Major Fandoms to me, past and present. As in, have I sought out at least one 40k+ fanfic for it? Usually these sorts of tag games will ask for my top ten or something, and I never get to lay them all out. Or at least as many as I can remember. Bolded my current interests)

Danny Phantom, Detective Conan, Doctor Who, Smallville, BBC Merlin, Bleach, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Lois & Clark: the New Adventures of Superman, Buffy the Vampire Slayer*, Good Omens, White Collar, The Dresden Files, Stargate SG-1, Rurouni Kenshin, Spider-Man, MCU, Marvel 616, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Supernatural, Young Justice, Blue Exorcist, Star Wars, Avatar the Last Airbender, Rise of the Guardians, The Flash, Welcome to Night Vale, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, Gravity Falls, Lucifer, Detroit: Become Human, Sherlock, Tales of Arcadia

* Once upon a time I read a lot of Buffy crossovers, and then moved on to straight Buffy fics, without ever having seen any of the show. I did eventually see some episodes, but the vast bulk of my knowledge comes purely from fanfic

Where you post: Sometimes here on tumblr, though I don’t think I have it all unified under one tag, since my-writing is also used for meta talking about my writing...

AO3 is the best place to find the most up-to-date versions of my stuff. It’s a pain to correct typos on ffnet so I generally don’t, though there’s a couple of older fics there that I haven’t crossposted because they are incomplete.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Internal Affairs with 7593 hits. It is the most-bookmarked Barry Allen & David Singh fic on AO3, whoot! It’s niche, but it’s a good niche

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Hard to say between Autoeponym and Metamorphosis. They’re both part of the same AU, and I’m just really excited about it :D

Fic you were nervous to post: Relative Truth. It was the first work I ever posted that was meant to be taken seriously (as opposed to cracky 100 word crossover drabbles), and it was my first plotty, multichaptered fic. Who knows, some day I might even finish it! ;P It’s only been eight years...

How you choose your titles: If the show has a particular pattern of naming, I try to match that if I can. So since White Collar has double-meaning titles, I went with Relative Truth, playing on the fact that truths are revealed about Neal’s family tree. 

Otherwise, I gravitate towards one-word titles (perhaps a result of the fact that I first started really paying attention to episode titles with Smallville). I further have a fondness for somewhat obscure and/or sciency terms, so Keraunopathy, Inertia, Philae, Autoeponym, Metamorphosis - but in the case of chapter titles in a one-shot collection, it might just be the topic or central thing that inspired it (Ice Cream, Chickenpox, Awake, Slumber, Cockroaches). 

More rarely, I’ll use a longer phrase or pull from an idiom - Cisco Answers the Phone, Henry Allen Has Never Been Rick-Rolled, The Girl in the Mirror, Where There’s a Will.

Do you outline: Yes, to varying degrees. Sometimes I treat it like writing an essay and just lay out my ‘topic sentences’ in order, so I know what happens in each paragraph, and then I have a place to ‘file’ whatever bits of writing I do. Sometimes for something more plotty I’ll have it organized more like a typical outline with different levels, although what usually ends up happening is I’ll start and stop several different outline attempts, and then stitch together what bits I can into a Frankenstein outline that may or may not actually be followed.

Right now, for Don’t Listen to Kafka, I’m attempting my most ambitious, color-coded storyboard to date

Complete: Inertia, my Flash one-shot collection, has finally been marked complete since the odds are quite low that I’ll ever return to that fandom, but the whims of my attentions have surprised me before, so who’s to say. Internal Affairs, the Singh spin-off of that one, has likewise been marked completed. The Haunting of Harrison Wells was successfully written on a deadline, for an event.

More recently, The Girl in the Mirror, Autoeponym, Metamorphosis, Mohs Scale, and I Was a Teenage Troll are call complete, though all but the first are part of in-progress series, so...

In progress: The aforementioned Relative Truth, though at some point I should probably just admit it’s a dead!fic. It’s just really hard to let go completely. 

As-yet-untitled next work in Don’t Listen to Kafka. While Claire might know about trolls, there’s still a gaping baby-brother-shaped hole in her knowledge. Somebody should do something about that...

The bit-after-the-next-bit-which-might-be-its-own-bit-or-might-be-a-separate-fic: Jim’s transformation continues! Barbara knows krav maga! Plans are made! Haemerythrin, the oxygen-binding pigment of marine worms, becomes a relevant analogy!

Some more one-shots in I Was A Teenage Troll AU, because I have a lot of backstory that I haven’t used yet. 

Coming soon/not yet started:

As long was we understand ‘soon’ to be highly subjective and subject to change:

A Gravity Falls x Trollhunters crossover. Man, I love reading crossovers but I haven’t written that many...

The Garage. Told from a Changeling’s POV, who was able to keep working as a mechanic at his garage even after he lost his human form when the Familiars were rescued (because he’d already been outed as a troll years before). The story begins when Jim shows up at the garage with a message for Craig Dunlin.

Hey Brother. What I call the Vermont Half-Brother AU. Written entirely in epistolary form, because I’ve never used a groupchatting app in my life and I don’t think I could write a chatfic between two people convincingly. On the other hand, it’s hard to justify writing letters back and forth when both of them have cell phones...

Do you accept prompts: I like the idea of prompts but I know for a fact that I would not be able to fill them. I’m not a very prolific writer at the best of times, imagining I could fill a prompt in any sort of timely manner is sheer fantasy.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Don’t Listen to Kafka. My outline is almost solid enough that I feel like I have enough of a framework to start working on details, and I love working on details.

I tag:

 @rockymountainvixen​ @luvtheheaven​ @kalajorn​

[lovecinnatwist]

Hi! Oh man i loved your abo!jaydick GCG dick cheating with jason. Would you do more? I’m dying to know what happened afterwards.

No problem Anon! I hope this fulfils your needs!

After Freedom PRT II - JayDick  / KaraDick

Contains: Omegaverse, Cheating Dick, Angst and mating cycles/in heat

The affair doesn't stop there.

Dick is drawn to Jason like a moth to a flame. At night in Kara's arms, he finds himself longing for the other alpha.  Kara's gentle fondness being scorched away by Jason's lawless lust. He knows that nothing will come of it. That each forbidden tryst brings them closer to the end. Still, Dick knows that he will go back for more. Wanton and passionate in the brief moments he can steal.

He hears Kal cry in the cradle, the baby decidedly ready for another feeding. Dick's chest is sore from Jason's mouth earlier. He doesn't let that stop him from getting up, however. Not performing his omega duties would make Kara suspicious. Something he can't afford. Not after imprinting on Kal and certainly not after giving so much to his new family.

His alpha doesn't stir. She sleeps silently but does sigh as his warmth leaves the bed. She's stunning. Always has been and always will be. He drinks in the sweet serenity on her face. The beauty he finds is unearthly. How did he ever think this woman- his alpha had been human?

How did he ever think something this beautiful could love him?

His feet carry him to Kal with familiar ease. The nursery only right across the hall from their room. The second Dick peers over the edge the baby's wails come to a stifle. His chubby fingers reach up with a desperation that makes Dick's heart glow.

At least he never had to wonder how Kal felt about him. This incredible, marvellous child is his in every meaning of the word. He coos down at his fussing baby and gets a puppy whimper in return.

" Shh, Mama's here. "

He picks up Kal with care. Despite how tender his chest is, milk still swells to the surface. It's instincts. The same ones that made him lactate the first time he held the pup. Privately he nuzzles down into silky soft hair. The action earns him a huff. Kal clearly too hungry to enjoy the affection.

" It's okay Kal, I'm going to feed you right now. "

He makes his way over to the large nursing chair in the corner. It's one of the most luxurious things they own. The cushions are plush and support his back, while the bottom rocks with just a little movement. He's spent so many hours here. Not only feeding Kal but also reading to him and playing games.

A dark voice reminds him that he could lose this. That if he gets caught with Jason, it will jeopardize his claim over his pup. That Kara can take him away and Dick will be out with no pack and no one.

He swallows down the guilt and fear like a shot of whisky.

Once both he and Kal are comfortable, he pulls up his shirt and tucks it around his neck. He looks down into beautiful blue eyes. The pup nuzzling against the bare skin with fervency. It takes very little to lead him to a nipple and get him to latch on.

The relief that goes through him when the pup finally does is soothing. Kal is a vigorous eater. His little mouth nurses milk so quickly that some spills. Dick coos, tenderly brushing away stray droplets. It's uncomfortable but doesn't hurt which he's grateful for. Like this, he can enjoy Kal's serene expression and the sweet smell of content pup.

It melts his heart a little more. For a brief instant, he allows himself to imagine a little girl with blonde hair. Maybe with his blue eyes and Kara's complexion. Kal would be a wonderful big brother he's sure and Kara- well she's already an incredible alpha. What would be one more pup to their family?

For a while content, suckling sound keeps him busy. His awareness entirely on the adorable baby in his arms. It doesn't take long to shift, however. Not with the way soft black, curls and wide blue eyes make him think of Jason.

He's sure this is what their pup would look like.

How many times has Jason whispered this fantasy in his ear? How long did it take for the idea to take root in his very core? Thinking of Kara and his child has always been a thing. Since Dick's taken on the omega role in the pack, it's always been a possibility.

When did he start thinking of Jason with that kind of possibility too?

A content whine draws him out of his daydream. Kal tilting to the side clearly done. Dick smiles and shifts the baby over his shoulder so he can burp him. It takes very little to get him to do so. A few light taps and Kal is comfortable and sleepy once again.

Dick never thought he could be a mother, let alone such a good one. He feels pride at the way he'd managed to give himself over to this role. Once Kal is fast asleep, Dick carefully takes him back to his crib. He stands over the cradle afterwards. Just staring at this beautiful, wonderful child that he's been given. He doesn't realize how long he's standing there until slivers of sunlight come through the curtains. He swallows the uncertainty that comes with it.

" You're up early. "

Kara's warm arms encircle him from behind. Pulling him into a steady embrace that makes him feel secure. He doesn't let his eyes leave Kal, but he does reach back to touch her. The alpha tangles their fingers before bringing them to her mouth to kiss.

" Kal was hungry. "

Is all he offers. Kara accepts it without question. She nuzzles into his neck and draws in deep breaths of his scent. It's intimate and tender. Typically Dick would preen under this attention. Now all he feels is guilt curling in his gut.

" You smell good. Your heat must be coming up. "

Dick licks his lips. It's rare for Kara to mention his heat. At least in this context. There's a dark murmur in her voice that sounds almost possessive. Like an alpha claim that he's never gotten before. A hopeful part of him swells.

" Yea- next week. Lois said she'd watch Kal for me. "

He swallows. Choosing his next words carefully.

" Do you want to spend it together?"

Turning up the omega charm, Dick looks down through his lashes. Pressing his curves against her in a way he hopes is suggestive. The action makes Kara step back. The loss of her heat lets him know the rejection is coming before she speaks.

We can't 

" We can't. "

We aren't in a stable place.  

" We aren't in a stable place. "

We need to focus on Kal.

" We need to focus on Kal-"

Dick stops her. They've had this conversation so many times. Why they can't cross the line. Why they can't take it any further. New Gotham needs Super Girl, she needs to stay focused. He's tired of the excuses. Tired of being pushed to the side.

" That's not enough to make a relationship work Kara."

The alpha tenses. The air around her visibly shifts the atmosphere. Her posture is defensive. The same way it always is when they talk about this.

" What's that supposed to mean? "

God, they were going to argue. What Dick wouldn't give to not fight about this for once.

" It means that I have needs too. That you have responsibilities to more than just new Gotham."

Kara's eyes flit away, unable to keep eye contact. He knows she loves being a hero. He's glad that she can make a difference and help people. Still, why is it every morning she leaves his mouth feels tastes bitter. It isn't enough anymore. She leaves him in charge of taking care of the house while she takes care of New Gotham but then who takes care of him?

" You don't- "

His voice cracks before he can continue. Emotion thick in his throat. He can't bring himself to say it. How can he be honest when what they have is already so delicate? He curls in on himself and takes a step back. Something about his demeanour cools Kara off. Her gaze softens.

" What,  What don't I do Dickie? "

God, he just wants things between them to be good. Like a customary alpha and omega pair. Like a proper pack. The emotions bubble inside of him until their spilling out of his eyes. He can't bring himself to say the words. Can't bring himself to ask for what he needs.

All it takes is a soft hand taking his for him to break. For him to confess.

" You don't treat me like your omega..."

It feels too quiet to convey everything swirling around inside of him. The guilt, resentment and fear. Emotions that have been slowly poisoning him every day and making it harder and harder to be alive.

He feels oh so tired.

Understanding blooms in Kara's eyes for the first time since they've gotten together. She reaches out for him with warm hands that burn. Drawing him into an embrace that shatters his walls. Tears of defeat fall involuntarily.

" Oh, Dick. Oh, Dickie, I'm so sorry I've been a terrible alpha to you."

The sympathy of her tone makes him sob.

" I'm so sorry Dick you're right. I don't share your heats, I don't help you with Kal, I don't take care of you... "

She’s shorter than him so he has to duck into her. Hiding his wet face into her fragrant neck. She strokes his hair with care. Whispering apologies that make his heart full. Then murmuring promises he finds himself believing.

" I'll do better alright? How about I spend the 3rd day with you. I can't stay for the entire thing- but I'll at least be there for when it gets really bad. "

Dick's arms squeeze around her shoulders. He hesitantly smiles into her warmth. Enjoying the embrace and vibrations of her soft alpha rumble. His heats have always been dreadful. He wouldn't mind them having their first time then. During the height when he's most sensitive and desperate. The thought draws a wavering purr from his throat.

" Yea? you mean it?"

Kara hovers enough to brush their noses together. Her touch is soft and comforting. She holds his face in her hands. Soothing his broken heart with care.

" I mean it. "

He believes her without question, swallowing down his bitter confessions of betrayal on his tongue. How could he let Jason lead him away from this? Why did he doubt Kara would understand? Why didn't he just talk to her in the beginning?

They stay like that for a while. Gently holding each other until Kal stirs. When he does, It's the alpha who picks him up. Taking Dick by his hand and leading the omega to the kitchen.

They would be alright. Dick just needs to trust her.

After they make arrangements for his heat, Dick makes a vigorous effort to avoid Jason Todd. He goes to the market in New Gotham even though it's further. He doesn't go back to Big Al's and generally keeps away from where he can usually find the alpha.

After all, Kara has bought him a trunk full of nesting material for their first time. He, himself has gone to the doctor to get a birth control shot. Everything's right on schedule to happen. He doesn't want to mess this up. He doesn't need any unnecessary distractions.

" Wing! "

The voice is loud enough to carry over the park. Dick finds himself shifting his hold on Kal, his steps becoming long. He has no hope at outrunning the alpha, but he tries anyway. Jason cuts him off with physical effort. The man outright sprinting.

" Jason. "

He hopes it comes across as cold and indifferent. He clutches Kal to his bosom but has to loosen when the pup whines. His heart is pounding in his chest. Memories flood to the surface and drown his lungs. His pup, as if picking up his distress, starts to whine.

"  You shouldn't be here. "

Jason ignores it. Dick hates how relieved the alpha looks. He can tell from the open body language that a heavy, weight is taken off of him. He doesn't want to think about what that means. Looking too deeply into Jason's affection means losing the nerve to chose his family.

To his credit, the man does keep his distance. Blue-Green eyes look at Dick to the baby, then back at him. It makes him feel uncomfortable. It's almost as if he's exposing his pup to his infidelity. To his disloyalty.

" I know, I'm sorry you just disappeared. I didn't know if you were alright. "

Dick closes in on himself. It's this that drew him into the alpha. The concern, the caring, the attention. Of course, it had been too easy to fall for him. He had been broken before, desperate and wanting. Not now though, now he can still feel the burning weight of Kara's words. They ground him and stop him from leaning into temptation.

" I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me anymore. "

The words are thick in his mouth. His tongue feels heavy. It's nothing he can't handle. Not when he and Kara are finally going to fix things.

" I-I'm spoken for. "

Alpha possession flashes in Jason's eyes but quickly retreats. Dick doesn't look into it. He doesn't want to acknowledge the sorrow, the heartbreak. The man gives him a teasing smile. Here, in the light of day and away from the bar, he can see it for what it is, self-conscious.

A facade.

" She can't give you what I can. "

Dick doesn't waver.

" You're right, she'll give me more. "

Jason tenses, his back straight and eyes searching. Dick can see the disappointment in the clench of his jaw and the tightness of his fist. Still, he stands across from him. Trying not to let the sudden burst of emotion make him hesitate.

" Yea? Well, whenever this phase of hers fizzles out. Whenever your little pack falls apart again. Don't think you can come back to me. Don't think I'll take you back. "

The words hurt more than Dick wants to admit. Though he knows that this has gone on way longer than it ever should have. Jason had been a fantasy, an idea that made him feel better about himself. This had all be a mistake.

" I was never yours, to begin with. "

Jason's jerks, recoiling from the words like a physical blow. The barely concealed pain there is hard to stomach.

There are people all around them in the park. Thankfully, no one he knows. The display earns them a few brief glances. Nothing to be worried about. The audience seems to make Jason restless. The alpha struggles, the attention clearly making him uncomfortable.

" You'll eat those words, and it won't be me who feeds them to you. "

Dick rolls his shoulders back. " I won't."

The only other time he's seen Jason quite this red is in the bedroom. Embarrassment and shame roll off of him. Nearly masking the subtle scent of pain and anguish. It makes Dick feel at least a little guilty. He should have never led the alpha on.  

Somewhere deep inside he had known it wasn't just sex. The promises and touches that offered more had been genuine. Just as real as Jason's constant offers to run away with him.

The alpha leaves just as quickly as he came. Stocking off to his bike, and getting on with a rough heavy-handedness he's never seen. The machine roars to life and Jason tears off loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby. The noise is deafening. Ripping a cry from the small pup in his arms.

Dick soothes Kal. Rocking him while pressing soft kisses to his scalp. Long after Jason is out of sight, he keeps crying.

At least the worst part was over with, maybe now they both could move on.

The journey back home is exhausting. Dick finds himself falling apart before he even gets through the door. He pushes on to get Kal ready for his nap. The baby needs it, maybe he does too.

He bathes, changes and feeds Kal on autopilot. He needs time to emotionally decompress, a break. The second his pup settles down in the cradle he gets it.

Jason's words replay in his mind on a loop. His face is vivid in Dick's memory. The guilt rises in his throat like bile. Making him feel dirty and beaten. He's wrong. Kara loves him, she wants him. Jason just wants to mess things up, to make Dick doubt so they can go back to their previous arrangement.

" Don't come back to me. "

Dick strips out of his clothing. The sudden need for a shower making his skin crawl. He reminds himself that he's done a good thing today. That working on things with his pack alpha is way more important than a rouge alpha. His family needs his mind and heart here.

Once he gets under the hot spray, tension starts to bleed from his body. It's a small comfort, one that he isn't afraid to bask in for a moment. He needs to focus on the positives. Like his upcoming heat in two days.

He could process all of this after. When he's feeling a little more stable in his and Kara's relationship. A small smile comes to his lips at the thought. They were fixing things.

Dick manages to throw himself into his chores to keep himself busy from any thoughts of Jason Todd. The closer he gets to his heat, the more excitement bubbles in his chest. He's adjusted all the furniture in the master bedroom three times now. He wants everything to be perfect for his and Kara's first time.

He's never been one for nest building, but he tries his hands at it anyway. It's a little messy and full of colours that clash, but he loves it. It smells like them and their home. It's warm and safe. Moreover lying in it makes Dick's blood hum. He feels blessed.

The moment the well-known itch of heat starts to break out on his skin he's ready. He spends the first two days satisfying and touching himself to ideas of Kara. Of her firm hands and sunshine scent. His thighs tremble with the knowledge the soon she'll be inside him. A more optimistic part of him yearns for her bite.

He tries not to get too caught up, but he does allow himself a few smaller fantasies. One's that leave him panting in the middle of the pretty nest of fabric. By the time the third day comes his skin is nearly searing. He's so worked up with keen excitement that he finds himself throbbing for it.

It takes a lot of discipline not to touch further, to deny himself in anticipation for Kara. For her touch, for her hands and for her knot. He whines into one of her jackets. Drawing in her scent by the lungfuls. He can't believe he's so close to getting everything he wants.

Dick doesn't realize she's hasn’t come until the last day. His body trembling against sweat and tear, soaked fabric. His first moment of clarity is terrifying.

Jason was right.

[ramblings-of-a-cavill-lover]

Dust, Earth & Ash pt. 3

Summary: As you daydream of sad blue eyes, helping a stranger takes an unexpected turn. Clark deals with his grief as best as he can.

Warnings: canon typical violence

Word count: 2,3k

A/N: It’s been 84 years but he’s back. Thank you all who love this story for your patience. I hope I don’t let you down. Thank you to the always lovely @shellbilee​ for having my back, being my beta and my editor at the same time. 💜

Divider by @writeyourmindaway​

The days remained rainy in the weeks after meeting him.

You focused on work in the diner, doubling the attention you gave to your customers, helping in the kitchen - where you didn’t really have to be at all - and you mostly managed, but time and time again you caught your thoughts flashing back to those distraught, blue eyes that haunted your dreams and every waking moment.

You even earned a bonus for working that much.

Marla, noticed you spacing out one evening. Dinner rush had long dwindled and you two could chat for a bit, as you normally used to, the only problem being that you hardly initiated conversation anymore.

“Hey, you ok?” came her soft voice and warm touch on your shoulder.

You sighed deeply before you answered, “Yes, just fine. You need anything?”

Looking deep into your eyes she pursed her lips.

“I’m worried about you kid. I’ve been watching you working like crazy and everything is apparently going swell, but, somehow, it feels like you’re miles away and not at a resort in Aruba. Spill.”

She crossed her arms as if to tell you you wouldn’t escape this one. You lightly chuckled.

“Remember the day you missed work?” Marla nodded. “Well, that morning someone was here.”

You pause and remember as you debate telling her about his physical attributes. You decide against it and sigh once more.

“Well? Did the person treat you bad? Good? Was it a man or a woman?”

You smiled at Marla’s impatience and continued.

“He treated me… ok, I guess.” Marla frowned and opened her mouth but, before she could say anything you hurried to reassure her. “He didn’t treat me badly. He just wanted to be left alone.”

“And why didn’t you leave him alone?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because when I poured the coffee for him, I saw the look in his eyes and it was clear that he’d been crying, you know. I couldn’t help it. I had to try and make it better.”

“And did you?” she insisted.

“I don’t think so.” you mumble, as you think about the cake barely eaten and the untouched coffee. “He took my hankie with him.”

“The one your mother embroidered?” her question was amplified by the long gasp.

“Yes."

The fact you couldn’t help the stranger coupled with losing one of the things you valued the most ate away at you, making you feel like you had failed everyone.

She touched your shoulder and pulled you in for a hug. Patting the back of your head lightly, she said it was going to be okay, though you were not so sure yourself.

As you left the diner that night, all your thoughts were focused on your conversation with the handsome stranger. Clark.

No news of any murder involving him had surfaced, so you were even more baffled as to what he could have meant by saying he had killed his wife.

He had left such an impression on you that you had dreamed about him more than once. Those nights were not the most pleasant; you’d wake up with a start, feeling a presence in your room, but upon turning the lights on, it was empty, just as you had left it before going to bed.

That same week you learned that your favorite customer unfortunately had passed, making things a little sadder. Her funeral was attended by a host of people, not only those who had worked with her, but who admired her work and wished to pay their respects.

The hot topic, however, was the absence of her husband, the not so famous, but equally well known, Clark Kent.

The buzz reached you from several sources and all of them told you a reason why he wasn’t there. Most of them, not so respectful. Even the newspaper they worked for, the Daily Planet, mentioned the fact.

Your customers talked about it, brought clippings to show you; it was on the radio, even on the tv news broadcasts. "Metropolis in Mourning” read one of the headlines, not really mourning but gossiping about the attendees at the funeral.

Your reaction was to always smile and let them gossip. You had never met the man, Lois was the one to come buy coffee almost every day. She was kind and always stayed for a while to talk to you. She bothered to ask you questions, as if you were an important person she just had to interview. She never failed to make you smile. A kind person through and through. But those were details you preferred to keep to yourself.

The walk back home wasn’t long, just a few blocks, but lost in your thoughts, you missed the fact that you were being followed.

The hand landed heavily on your shoulder and turning you didn’t know if you were more startled by the fact that someone got that close to you without you noticing, or the fact that the person whose hand had felt like a bag of potatoes on your muscles was such a small and frail-looking old lady.

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” she apologized in a feeble voice, that again, had such jarring contrast to the touch. “I called out, but you were on another planet!”

She laughed then, showing her blackened teeth, and you smiled awkwardly, not really knowing what she wanted.

She was repugnant. It wasn’t a mean observation, it was a fact. Her world-weary face was mostly wrinkles and you could tell life hadn’t been kind to her so far. She reminded you of fairy tale witches with the hooked noses and cunning eyes. The unease only increased as you took in the state of her clothes. She wore what looked like a voluminous tunic, of thick and frayed fabric. It stunk, but nothing like the city stench you were used to. It was something akin to the smell in the crypt where your mother’s remains were buried.

You shuddered and shook your head slightly to dispel the disturbing thoughts. The woman, thankfully concentrated on the movement of the cars on the street, didn’t witness your discomfort.

“Would you be a dear and help me with these?” she half requested, half complained, looking down at two very heavy looking shopping bags full of groceries, that you could swear she hadn’t been carrying when you first looked at her.

“Sure.” you replied, noticing your labored breathing as you picked the bags from her hands.

They were indeed very heavy. You wondered if she bought bricks and put them in the bottom, just for the exercise.

“Do you live far?” you asked her, as the light turned green, but she just started crossing the street without a single glance back at you.

She walked briskly, and the extra weight had you struggling to keep up.

“No, just three blocks that way.” her hand pointed to nowhere in particular ahead of you both.

“Okay.” was all you could add.

You didn’t know how you got yourself into this, but now that you were in, all that was left was to see it through. Even if you had to see the worst side of town along with it.

It wasn’t easy catching up with her, she seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you. But when you were about to give up, she stopped in front of a derelict house that looked abandoned.

She opened the door and asked you to put the groceries on the frail looking table in the middle of the living room, walking off further into the house.

You did as she asked, relieved not to be carrying them anymore, and looked back at the corridor where she had disappeared to, jumping when you saw her already next to you. It was as if she had the ability to simply materialize wherever she wanted.

“Forgive me, I didn’t want to startle you. Again.” she mumbled with a chuckle. “I have something for you. It is not money, for I do not carry such mundane things. I do believe you’ll find it useful. Eventually.”

From her pocket she pulled a leather cord, tied around a vivid, red crystal.

“You don’t have to repay me. It’s alright.” you said, taking a step back.

She merely grabbed your wrist and thrust the necklace into the palm of your hand. It was warm, and when your two hands connected around it, a blinding light emanated from it, blinking out almost immediately.

You felt heavy and sleepy, and the last thing you saw was her gruesome smile and the shears in her other hand.

Ever since Diana left, Clark had been alone with his thoughts in the silent, and aptly named, Fortress of Solitude. She had stayed for four days. They didn’t talk much, they didn’t eat or drink.

“Why did you bring me here? I told you to take me to Barda’s!” he didn’t mean to yell, but that direction wouldn’t take him where he wanted to go. He needed to blow off some steam, all of the steam, inside his head. “Kal-El, I know you are grieving, but that does not give you the right to slaughter an entire planet…” “I don’t…” he interjected, impatient. “Do not interrupt me. It’s quite rude.” she said, calmly. He hung his head, grinding his teeth. She was right, he knew it. But he was not in the mood to give her the satisfaction. “You know yourself.” she continued. “Right now, all that pain and anger at nothing and no one in particular will unleash the full force of your power on whatever enemy you have in front of you. And then what? How will you feel when you stop seeing red and all that’s left is the utter loneliness, the memory of what Lois would have thought of that, and the blood of a planet on your hands?”

The stillness in her voice had disturbed him. He hated her for it, for being right.

He actually hated himself. All the more for thinking ill of a friend. Another friend who put it all on hold to help him.

In Metropolis, Bruce would be taking care of everything. He contacted Ma Kent and was dealing with the funeral arrangements. He called the Lanes. He was the friend Clark knew he could be under that tough exterior.

“Give me all you’ve got.” he asked her. She then flew away, making him follow her, and put at least a hundred miles between them and the plane. “If you put the slightest dent on my plane I’ll never speak to you again.” she said with a shake of her head. “How would you know?” he scoffed. “It’s invisible.” He had had enough of talking and charged her. “Believe me, I’d know!” she said through gritted teeth absorbing the impact easily. “C'mon. Give me your worst.” she shouted. “You can’t handle my worst!” he shouted back, shooting up and hovering high above her. “We’ll see.” she exclaimed and attacked.

The blows coming from her fists hurt.

He couldn’t complain, as her stubbornness and willingness to beat him into venting his frustration had truly helped.

She had offered to take him back, as the funeral had been scheduled for the next day. He refused.

Now, a week after she left, after getting tired of Kelex’s updates on the state of the world outside, and not really knowing what to do with himself anymore, he decided to go back to the only thing that made sense.

Metropolis. Catching bad guys, frustrating their plans. Helping humanity in any way he could. Anything to fill the void that she left. Maybe making Bruce really mad by hunting down and putting an end to the Injustice League single handedly, or finally catching Joker… He couldn’t decide.

Indecision and life after Lois were frightening, even for the man of steel, and without her beside him to face humanity, he didn’t know what was left to ground him.

Despite that, he found a calming monotony in rounding up bad guys and had been quite effective in the short time after coming back.

He didn’t go back to work, telling Perry he needed more time, but he could now think about her and remember without all that anger taking over his every thought. He was able to feel the pain, really feel it, feel her absence, but not be consumed by it.

Metropolis had become a much safer city and he was tempted to tell Bruce he could do the same for Gotham. Slightly.

He checked on her a few times, thinking he should go back and return the handkerchief he absentmindedly took and perhaps try that pastry Lois loved so much.

The thought was dismissed as quickly as it came. It was still too soon for that kind of ritual. Her memory was still fresh in his head.

The kind woman went on with her life, and the few times he had observed her, he noticed that she went out of her way to make sure her customers were happy.

He regretted not asking her name.

He could have overheard the conversations in the diner if he wanted to, but that felt wrong somehow.

Now, flying over the area he listened for her heartbeat; it had become a habit.

She wasn’t at the diner where he had expected to hear it.

Frowning, he flew high into the clouds and concentrated.

Her heartbeat was slow, almost faint, and not in the region he knew she lived.

Speeding to the area where the faltering beating was coming from, he found her lying on the ground of a closed junk yard, still in her uniform, and a shimmering red pendant lying on her chest.

Using his x-ray vision to assess she was unharmed, he picked her up and not knowing what else to do, shot into the sky straight towards the batcave.

[greenhanded-redthumbed]

Just A Small Town Boy

Clark grew up with his parents telling him how he fell from the sky. He wouldn’t believe them if it hadn’t been for the other things: that he’s strong enough to lift a tractor, that he can start a fire a hundred metres away with just his eyes, that he can fly. They tell him that he’s a miracle child: a gift. And that everything he can do just makes him more perfect, even if they have to hide them away for now. 

Not yet, they insist, they’re not ready for you yet. 

He accepts it, practicing to control his powers at night in the field next to their house. He wades through the wheat stalks that rise to his shoulders and is careful not to face anything important (he’d accidentally demolished far too many walls growing up, and even though his parents were more than happy to keep up with the continuous renovations, he still tries his best to keep everything in one piece). He learns to avoid certain bright lights that bring about a burning in the back of his eyes, to keep headphones with him for when his hearing runs rampant picking up anything said for miles and to always have an elastic around his wrist to keep him present and remind him to use human strength rather than super strength. (The Kents have an entire draw devoted to the elastics and other such trinkets ready for them to give way).

Clark’s gotten better at controlling his powers over the years, with the reports of alien sightings around Smallville dropping as he gets older. But he can’t stay forever.

He loves his parents dearly - loves the farm too, it’s the only home he’s ever known. And as much as he’d love to stay here, he can’t. He can do things no one else can, he can help people no one else can. But there’s not that many people in Smallville, and not much to save them from.

So he leaves, heads to the big city to pursue a career in journalism (because how else is he going to know who’s in trouble). Clark considers working with the police, but a quick read of the papers tells him of the high levels of corruption - all of them probably aren’t bad, but Clark has never been good at reading people and thinks he’s better safe than sorry.

His spotless record, good grades and glowing letters from his high school teachers is enough to land him an internship at one of the bigger newspapers in the city. The Daily Planet.

Clark turns up for his first day bright eyed, watching the chattering reporters move around the cubicles on the office floor - some darting forward with bundles of papers in their arms as they reach a breakthrough while others meander slowly and chatter greetings to their coworkers.

He doesn’t know what he expected - certainly not his own office and free reign, but maybe something more than cramped square metre cubicle with a desk crammed in (the walls of the cubicle barely reach his ears so the full-time, seasoned journalists can see if there’s someone to make coffee for them). 

Occasionally, someone drops off a list of some kind for him to grab files on:

“I need the profit margins of these companies on my desk by six”

“Can you get the M.P.D crime stats to me by this afternoon?”

“I want you to pull up all our previous stories on the mayor and check what our bias is.”

It’s not exactly saving anyone, but it’s a foothold as a journalist. He’ll get there. 

And he does - after a few months or so of perfecting his coffee-making skills and navigating the achingly slow computer he’s been given, a file is dropped unceremoniously into his cubicle. Clark pulls the headphones from his ears, letting the office chatter settle around him and turns to see one of the reporters looking down at him. The dark-skinned man would be shorter than him if he was standing, bulky and dressed in a neat, navy suit - Clark recognises him instantly as one of the more senior reporters.

“What do you need Mr. White?” Clark asks, one hand moving to fiddle nervously at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s the latest manifestation of his fiddling - he doesn’t have his parents stockpile of rubber bands and always seems to lose them in the mess of his tiny desk. 

Mr. White, Perry as Clark recalls, “I want you to write this report. Twelve lines. Puff piece: local orphanage.” 

“Write a- write a report?” Clark stutters, surprised it’s not just another files request.

“Yes, Kent,” Perry White says slowly and Clark jumps at his own name, “You do want to be a reporter, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Clark stammers, pulling the paper-thin file closer, “I’ll get on this right away, sir.”

“I’m not ‘sir’, Kent. Not yet anyway,” Perry says turning away. He calls back, “On my desk, tomorrow at five.” Clark’s too nervous to remember he doesn’t know which desk is Perry’s. He supposes he’ll just have to work it out when he comes to it.

As he goes to open the file, he notices a face watching him over the cubicle divider. A fellow intern, with long black hair and pale blue eyes that make her features seem sharper. Colder. Like she could open her mouth and freeze him to the core.

“Um, hi?” he starts, “We haven’t met, I’m Clark-”

She cuts him off. “A newbie.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s not wrong or particularly rude. Just matter-of-fact in a way his southern hospitality hadn’t prepared him for. 

“Yes, a newbie-” He replies with a grin. She cuts him off again by picking up the file from Perry and flipping it open. 

“What are you doing?” Clark questions, hoping he’s not going to end up in a fist fight with a fellow intern for this story. 

“Just checking this out, don’t worry,” she mumbles preoccupied scanning through the loose sheets, “I’m making sure the big dogs aren’t screwing me over.”

She looks up at him and her face briefly contorts into a smile - not a warm one, a happy one. A cold, practiced greeting to show no harm done, a I don’t mean to be a weirdo going through your files I’m actually a rational and normal person kind of smile. “But Perry’s right, this is a bludge.”

“Okay?” Clark replies, honestly confused by the whole interaction more than anything, “Well, it was nice meeting you Ms…”

“Lane,” she answers him, “Lois Lane, the top intern. That’s not an official term, but it’s the truth.”

He offers her a smile and a nod before turning his attention back to the file that has once again been dropped on his desk. It’s only two loose sheets, almost no info and a basic piece. But at least it’s him who’ll be writing it. One step at a time.

(When it’s printed in the lower corner of page twelve two days later, he cuts it out and sends it back home to Kansas. Ma and Pa are deliriously proud and request copies of all future articles. He doesn’t find out until Christmas that they’ve turned one of their walls into a display for his published pieces.)

Three weeks after his first article, a new intern moves into the cubicle next to him. (Ms Lane’s now one of the people bringing bludge stories and requests to his desk. She must have been right about being top intern). The new intern, Ms Lang, is a city girl. Born and raised in Metropolis. But she has a warmth that reminds him of home. Warm brown skin and wavy brown hair and warm brown eyes that seem to shine when she smiles.

He’s more than a bit enraptured. 

She leans over half way through her first day to talk to him. “So, how long have you been an intern here?”

He grins back and the office fluorescents suddenly shift to the warm summer sun reflected off the wheat fields. “Almost five months now.” 

“Huh, good to know,” she replies and he notices her nails are painted the same shade of pink as her dress. 

“Why’s that?” he asks before she can disappear back into her cubicle.

“Because on my tour round here I heard you were the new top intern. And I want to get there faster than you.” Then she’s gone, back to becoming the hardest working journalist of Metropolis.

It took Clark a moment to let her words sink in. He knew the Daily Planet requires journalists to show their replacements around. He cranes his head over the wall of his cubicle and catches sight of Ms Lane on the other side of the floor. She’s arguing with a colleague over something or other and doesn’t so much as glance at him. It’s kind of surprising that she thinks so highly of him. It’s also kind of the best.

It’s around this time he makes his first appearance as superman. He puts on the suit his father left him (the one Pa and Ma kept for him until he turned sixteen) and sets out to help people. It’s strange, giving in to the sounds and sights and smells he’s been blocking out all his life. He can hear the whole city buzzing beneath him as he floats above it, tuning in and out of conversations like a radio.

He decides to start small - he picks cats out of trees, clears trees off of roads and flies the dying to the hospital at super speed. An alien in primary colours zipping around the city catches the attention of the Daily Planet pretty quickly. He reads the article one of the reporters, Mr John Corben, writes on him and is happy to see it’s mostly good (wary, but still praising his actions).

Clark steps up his attempts at heroism - he now shows up to confront active shooters and floats above witnesses for particularly nasty cases. Praise starts getting thrown his way, with t-shirts and fan-blogs. They treat him like a celebrity.

Then his first supervillain arrives. He calls himself the Ultra-humanite and the papers obligingly print it in their headlands ‘Superman vs Ultra-humanite: Shocking Defeat for the Man of Steel’. The Ultra-humanite - Clark doesn’t even know his real name - isn’t like the regular street thugs and gun-wielding cowards. He can’t match Clark physically, so he does it mentally. He outsmarts Clark at every turn with automations and traps and a thousand other misdirections. 

The Ultra-humanite also introduces Clark to a new weakness: a small, almost fluorescent green rock he calls Kryptonite. It leaves him weak and dizzy. All the hyperawareness sinking away as the world dulls and blurs. He can safely say he doesn’t like it.

It dawns on him that he’ll need help. So he turns to the person he thinks he can trust. 

“Right,” Lana says slowly as he hovers in front of her, work shirt unbuttoned to show his famous emblem, “So you’re the superman with the superpowers who wants help taking down a supervillain. Super.” 

“You don’t have to be apart of the fighting or anything,” he assures her, “I just need a plan or something to get the upper hand on him.”

They’re on the roof of the Daily Planet. It’s the only place he could think of that wouldn’t have security cameras or be too suspicious to visit. Enough people still smoke to make it an acceptable break spot.

“You want me to outsmart a supervillain. Outsmart a supersmart evil genius supervillain.”

“Or help, just offer any insight,” Clark says, bringing himself back to the floor and doing up his shirt. That seems to calm Lana down, and she tilts her head slightly, gazing dazedly out at the horizon

It takes her a minute, but when she looks at him again he knows he made the right decision to come to her. “So he’s found ways to outsmart all your super powers.” Lana starts slowly, “Because he studied Superman.”

“I guess so,” Clark says.

“So,” Lana continues, “Use your abilities as Clark Kent. The ones he doesn’t know about. Track him down in his lair like a reporter - with paper trails and good old investigation.”

He does, tracks down all the stores that sell the fancy equipment the Ultra-humanite - a man, Clark learns through his investigation, who is called by the far-less threatening name of Gerard Shugel - and traces the sales back to accounts and addresses. 

He finds Shugel’s lair, crashing in dressed in full Superman regalia to see that very man tinkering on his next trap. It’s easy for Clark to apprehend him on his own turf. Just carrying him to the police station and leaving his address for them to search through. Clark was raised to believe that everything gets easier with practice, so he knows he’ll be ready for the next supervillain to threaten his city. And he knows he has someone to turn to when he gets out of his depth. 

 After a year of intern work, Clark finally gets a position as a full-blooded journalist. (Investigative, which is the same department as Ms. Lane. There are some whispers going around that two newbies handling a department is risky business, but those are shut down by an icy blue glare.)

They work side by side in matching offices, with Clark dibsing the police corruption case. (Which Ms. Lane thinks is undignified but lets him have it so she can keep working on her inquiring into the company practices of one of Metropolis’ largest businesses. Something called Lexcorp.)

Lana inherits the role of top intern, a placement which Clark confidently informs his replacement of. He knows it’s not long until she’s on the detective side of the office and looks forward to it.

He knows that the people are ready for him now. And more importantly, he’s ready for them.

[slamsams-blog]

A View To A Kill - #24WeeksofBond

This week’s feature is 1985′s “A View To A Kill”.  This would be Roger Moore’s 7th and final Bond performance, and judging by Moore’s appearance in this film, it really was for the best.  Man, am I torn with this one.  I know as a self-proclaimed “Bond Expert” I should hate this movie...take a look at any Bond ranking blog out there and you’ll find the usual suspects rounding out the bottom 5, this film included.  While it definitely has its faults (no pun intended), there is just something so unique and charming about this Bond adventure.  Maybe it’s the horses, maybe it’s the unforgettable May Day character, maybe it’s the Christopher Walken effect, or maybe it’s the way Bond cooks up a killer Quiche...whatever it is, I just can’t help but enjoy myself when I watch this movie.

It all starts with a fun ski chase scene where Bond is out trying to find the body of a missing 003...he finds him and discovers a microchip in his locket.  He must have been on the hunt for Zorin before Bond took over.  Not sure, I may have missed it, but eventually the ski chase scene boils down and Bond picks up a board from his snow mobile that got shot down.  This leads to “California Girls” playing while Bond snow boards his way out of a pickle.  Watching this now - it’s utterly ridiculous and doesn’t quite fit the vibe of the rest of the scene, but when I watched this as a teenager, I absolutely LOVED it and it still brings me back to when I was a kid watching these Bond films for the first time.

We are then treated to a bad ass tune by Duran Duran.  This song is one of my favorites.  When I think of this movie, 2 things pop into my head right away: that California girls scene, and the Duran Duran song.  So far this movie is hitting on all cylinders. 

But before we go on with the plot...let’s talk about the elephant in the room, shall we?  Bond is so uncomfortably old in this movie.  It’s a shame really, this movie has a wonderful plot with amazing characters, incredible action, and a killer score, but the only thing a lot of people take away from it is how old Moore is.  I don’t blame them, Moore is definitely a week past the sell by date here and he is still managing to get intimate with a few women.  Eh, I really hate to say it, but it was a different time I guess.  If Roger Moore had been a little younger or if Dalton had taken over this one...I think this movie would be towards the top of Bond lists everywhere.

Onto the plot...

It turns out this microchip is a copy of a Zorin Microchip that are designed to withstand a nuclear blast.  So Bond is set to find Max Zorin (Christopher Walken) and see if there is anything suspicious.  Well turns out his horses are really good...that’s enough to get a green light from her majesties secret service.  Bond goes to meet some weirdo at the Eifel Tower to talk all things Zorin, but the weirdo gets killed by a poison butterfly toy.  That’s funny to write.  Anyways, now Bond is really on a mission...

The movie continues with Bond going under cover as a super rich and bossy horse buyer with another man from MI6 who is a horse expert.  This part of the movie is just light hearted and fun.  We see Bond bossing “Tibbit” around and schmoozing other party folk, and getting to know all the evil bad guys along the way.  This is where we find out that Zorin inserts these microchips into the horse for an added boost during races.

Not only do we get to admire some beautiful horses, but we also get our first glimpse at Stacy Sutton (Tanya Roberts) who will go on later to be Bond’s helping force in taking Zorin down.  She is seemingly getting a big pay off, for what?  We don’t know yet.  But instead of Bond getting information from her, how Bond usually does, in a steamy hotel on a moonlit night.  Bond finds himself in bed with May Day, and the audience finds themselves uncomfortable with seeing old Moore naked in bed with naked Grace Jones.

Yeah....soooo anyways....

Like with most Bond movies, the plot always starts out rather simple but ends up being something bigger.  Yes, Zorin is cheating to win these horse races, by steroids and microchip injection...but then we also find out that Zorin is an ex-KGB who is now doing his own thing.  And apparently that thing is to destroy Silicon Valley, taking control of the microchip industry.  We never really find out why he needs this, other than having a monopoly.  But, why do you want a monopoly on the microchip business?  Seems rather lame in my opinion, but it’s Zorin, and he’s got his reasons.

We really don’t deserve a Christopher Walken here, but we get him and its wonderful.  Here is something I’ve never picked up before...apparently the old evil guy Hans Glaub was a nazi scientist who experimented with steroids in pregnant women in the concentration camps.  The women who gave birth, gave birth to kids with extremely high IQ’s but were psycho paths, leading Bond to suspect Zorin was a product of that.  NEVER KNEW THAT BACKSTORY UNTIL TONIGHT!  CRAZY! 

Well that definitely explains Walken’s performance.  Christopher Walken does a fantastic job of playing an extremely charming, highly popular public figure, but also a completely sadistic, ruthless killer who finds killing people “neat”.

On top of having Christopher Walken and Grace Jones as the evil tandem, we get to witness some wonderfully absurd action.  We have a Horse riding obstacle course that Bond must complete with 10 guys trying to knock him off; we have a Fire truck chase scene with Bond hanging on the ladder as it’s swinging through on coming traffic; and of course, the final boss battle on top of the Golden Gate Bridge.  Some pretty awesome stuff here...but man is Roger Moore old.

Not only is this Roger Moore’s last Bond movie, it’s also the swan song for the best Moneypenny ever...Lois Maxwell - who had served as the Bond flirting secretary to M since the very first Bond movie.  Lois had a wonderful career in the Bond series, but she too was getting old.  It only seemed fitting that she and Moore go out at the same time to bring in some young blood.

Despite Moore’s age, and yes I know I’m beating a dead horse (that was an intended pun), but this movie does all it can to make up for it.  There are so many memorable scenes in this film where I simply cannot in good conscious give this movie a bad review.  I would definitely put this movie in a solid place in the middle of the pack, but not bottom 5, I mean come on, Christopher Walken alone moves the movie up 6 spots.  

This really was fun to watch tonight.  What did you all think?  Let me know!

Reviews from Friends:

Dan Perch

Bond as St. John Smythe has to be my favorite fake name😂 Walken and Grace Jones were such a cool team to watch!

My Mom

Omg Sam this was the best bond movie and a fantastic write up on your blog. I laughed so hard at your commentary. You have the makings of a professional critic. You just have to fix that “anyways” habit. I can now see how you boys got addicted to Bond. I would put this brisk and boisterous film way up near the top. My gosh you should at the very least give it another half star. I loved it.

Andrew Albertsen

This was always one of my favorites

Jake Benrud

I had some of the same thoughts about this movie! "California Girls"? Really? I also don't think that Bond's knees could take those jumps at his age. It does make it kind of a fun scene though. I have had the "A View to a Kill" song stuck in my head all week. It's one of my favorite Bond songs as well. I also enjoyed the twang of the electric guitar with the 80's version of James Bond Theme song in the action sequences. Grace Jones as May Day was great. It was kind of funny to see the death by the poison butterfly on a fishing pole. I must have missed the connection on how the Nazi scientist who did experiments with steroids in pregnant women ended up being a father-figure to Zorin. Also, how did he become a KGB agent if he was the product of a Nazi experiment? I guess he could have jumped ship to the next "evil empire." Walken played the part well. I liked his laugh just before plummeting to his death.

24 Weeks of Bond will return next Monday with - 

Goldeneye

[tamayokny]

Name ten favourite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.) then tag ten people

This was extremely difficult to do. The first two were easy, since they are my ride or die, but choosing 10 different characters? From ten different things? I don’t know if I even like 10 different things, but I found some loopholes, lol.

tagged by @bpdanakins <3

1. Lara Croft - Tomb Raider

Lara Croft has been one of my idols since I was a small child. My mom had bought Tomb Raider: Starring Lara Croft and Tomb Raider: Adventures of Lara Croft for my sister on the PlayStation. I remember watching my sister play it, and then sometimes I was allowed to play it. I continued the Tomb Raider legacy throughout the years.

Lara Croft is just. Amazing. I love every version of her. Classic Lara deflected the life her parents had wanted her to have, and paid the price for it. Did that stop her? No, it did not! She was able to make her own mark in the world. LAU!Lara wanted to find out what happened to her mother, and honestly I love Keeley Hawes as Lara. She was witty and funny, and Legend is one of my favorite TR games. And Reboot!Lara? I love her. I honestly don’t care what people say, Reboot!Lara is great! Her first game is also fun to play. Each version of Lara Croft offers something different, and I love it. While many of Lara’s core values are in each incarnation (adventurous, ambitious, brave, etc.), each brings a new perspective which I enjoy!

Fun fact: my irl best friend and Lara share the same zodiac sign!

2. Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch) - Marvel

I LOVE WANDA MAXIMOFF WITH ALL MY HEART!!! She’s a huge comfort character for me. She’s one of the most powerful mutants (yes, I am ignoring the retcon), and she’s complex. Wanda first appeared in X-Men #4 alongside her brother, Pietro, as members of Magneto’s Brotherhood. Eventually, the twins become heroes and join the Avengers.

Wanda’s mutation is magic; probability, to put it at best. She can warp reality. While she is strong, she is also human. Many remember her best as having a mental breakdown and creates House of M (influenced by her beloved brother). After this, she goes off the radar for a few years before her reincarnated sons find her.

I love Wanda because she has heart, courage, and cares for others. She’s intuitive and sensitive and, in many ways, reminds me of myself. I genuinely love Wanda with all my heart. She remains to be my number one favorite superhero. I wish more people knew her--the real her. The MCU does not do her (or her brother) justice. At all. (At least AOU kind of got their “reluctant villains to heroes” origin story well enough?)

Also: fuck you Marvel for retconning Magneto as the Maximoffs’ father. It’s been 5 years but I still elect to ignore that.

3. Phoebe Halliwell - Charmed

Growing up, Charmed was one of my favorite TV shows. To sum it up, it’s about a group of sisters who discover that they’re witches. Specifically, they’re the Charmed Ones and they protect the innocent. For awhile, I’ve said that Piper is my favorite sister but after my last rewatch, I say that Phoebe is my favorite.

At the beginning of the series, Phoebe was the youngest and the rebel of the family. Before the pilot, Phoebe was living in New York but we see her move back in. We also see that she has a strained relationship with her eldest sister, Prue, due to her scummy fiancé. Phoebe is also the reason why their magic was unlocked. (As children, their powers were bounded in order to keep them safe.)

Over time, we see Phoebe mature more. However, there are a few things that never changes with Phoebe. She’s kind and caring for others, always wanting to help them no matter what. (She shares this trait with the youngest sister, Paige.) She is deeply connected with her emotions (which causes her to gain the power of empathy in season 6). Phoebe has also had rough luck with love (see: Cole the demon, etc.) but no matter how much she gets hurt, Phoebe still has hope. She still has love in her heart. No matter how much she gets knocked down, she finds a way of getting back up, and I admire her a lot for it.

4. Catelyn Stark - A Song of Ice and Fire

Family. Duty. Honor. This is House Tully’s family motto, which is deeply embedded into Catelyn. Catelyn was married to Ned Stark during Robert’s Rebellion, after her former betrothed was murdered in King’s Landing (who, ironically, was Ned’s older brother). Their wedding night resulted in the birth of their firstborn: Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell and King in the North.

Catelyn Stark is the mother of the wolves, and her love for her family is no doubt a core of her character. However, Catelyn is clever and if you mess with her, you will certainly gain her wrath. Her eldest values her for her wisdom, and will turn to her for help. She will do anything for her family, such as freeing Jaime Lannister to get her girls back, or offering herself to save her eldest during the horrific events of the Red Wedding.

Catelyn is murdered, along with majority of the Stark party, at the Red Wedding. However, she is resurrected and becomes Lady Stoneheart. Stoneheart is out for vengeance, because she believes all of her children are gone; taken by the enemy. Stoneheart murders Frey or Lannister alike--whoever is associated with them. She holds no mercy.

There is so much more to Catelyn that I could go on, but I will stop here. (Besides, I need to reread the books again!) I will say this: fuck you, D&D.

5. Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto) - Marvel

MAGNETO TIME? MAGNETO TIME.

Erik Lehnsherr was a young boy when World War II happened and because he was Jewish, he was sent to Auschwitz. His family did not survive, but Erik did. Depending on what you follow on, Erik either A) escaped with Magda (who is the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver’s mother) and started a life with her or B) he hunted down the men who worked for Sebastian Shaw (movie universe).

Anyway, Erik had been a mutant since around the time he was sent to the camps and after the horror and trauma he’s faced, Erik decided that mutants would never be accepted by “their less evolved kin”. So, he became Magneto, a protector for mutants and enemy for humans.

Magneto is only one side of the coin, however. Charles Xavier is a longtime frenemy of sorts, both having different perspectives in life. Xavier believes in coexistence, but Magneto believes otherwise. He had seen what humanity is capable of, and he never wants that to happen again. If he must be a villain, than so be it.

Magneto is beautifully complex. He has done some questionable things (I’m thinking of the comics for this one), but he has also done great things for his people. “Never again,” he says. He fights to keep it that way. Magneto is sympathetic at best, and I certainly understand where he comes from. Tell me this: if you were Magneto, what would you have done?

Also: while Michael Fassbender is not Jewish in any way, he did one hell of a job portraying this amazing character.

6. Kira Yukimura - Teen Wolf

I wasn’t planning on adding Teen Wolf to the list, but here I am.

Kira was introduced to us in season 3b, written as a “new love interest” for Scott McCall. I remember a lot of fans of a certain ship were pissed, but whatever. I’m not here to talk about romance.

So, in 3b Kira was a new student, with her dad as the new history teacher at Beacon Hills High School. She’s of both Korean and Japanese descent, and she ends up playing an important role in the story arc. We find out that she’s a Kitsune, thanks to her mother who explains how a Kitsune and a werewolf must come together to defeat the Nogitsune, who happens to be possessing the loveable Stiles Stilinski.

After this, Kira becomes a part of the McCall Pack and Scott’s girlfriend. In my opinion, they’re cute together but many people hate them together. Oh well. Kira also becomes a badass in her own right, as her abilities evolve. However, in season 5, the creators put her on the shelf, as she trains with Skinwalkers and is never seen again. I am so fucking MAD about that.

Like many characters on this list, Kira has heart and courage. She’s a bit of an introvert but she is loyal, and cares for her pack. She’s cute and a bit goofy. She is skilled and deadly. Kira is one of the coolest characters Teen Wolf had, and the way they treated her was disappointed. (Even though after her death, Allison was always mentioned/connected in some way. I like Allison, don’t get me wrong but all I can say is: interesting...)

Fun fact: Arden Cho, the actress, is the VA for Sam Nishimura in Tomb Raider (2013)!

7. Lois Wilkerson - Malcolm in the Middle

The mother of four boys, the matriarch of the Wilkerson household is not one to push around.

Lois has had a rather rough life. Her parents were not the best, and everyone tries to push her down. However, Lois fights back and is not afraid to stand up for what is right. Francis, her oldest, describes her as an absolute menace and while her sons and husband fear her, they also admire her for her strength and courage. Lois is tough as nails, but she can also break, too. However, her family--the family she and Hal created, no one else--is there for her. Lois is incredibly strong willed no matter what, and I love her so much.

8. Theon Greyjoy - A Song of Ice and Fire

No words can describe on how much I love this fashionable war criminal.

Before the start of the series, Theon is a hostage/ward of Lord Stark, as a result of his father’s failed rebellion. Theon was a reminder that if Balon Greyjoy pulled something again, his last (male) heir would get the chopping block. Pretty brutal for a young child, right?

Now, at the start of the series, Theon is nineteen and is seemingly best friends with Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell and the North. He shows loyalty to Robb and the Starks, claiming that Lord Stark was like a father to him. He’s also skilled with archery and, like I mentioned earlier, fashion.

Then A Clash of Kings occur, and we began to see how Theon Greyjoy is.

Robb Stark has been proclaimed as King of the North, and sends Theon to the Iron Islands in hopes to gain allies with Balon Greyjoy. However, this does not occur. Old Greyjoy says “fuck that and if you’re [Theon] aren’t with us, then you‘re against us.” We see Theon conflicted, but we also see how strained his relationship with his father is. In the end, Theon joins the Greyjoys, and promptly sacks Winterfell. However, that is not the end. Theon is tricked by Ramsay Bolton and this vile man takes Winterfell. I believe while he took the women and children captive, the men were killed...save for Theon, of course.

Theon is held captive by Ramsay Bolton, and is tortured quite brutally. Theon goes through a lot in this time. His appearance had changed drastically: black hair turned white and brittle, he becomes skin and bones, and loses a few fingers and toes. Theon is no longer Theon. He became Reek. The new Reek.

Then, Jeyne Poole (or Sansa; I hate you D&D) arrives, under the guise that she is Arya Stark and she is to wed Ramsay Bolton. Jeyne begged Theon to help her, but he is in no position of power. He is a completely broken man. Time flies by. Jeyne is in absolute misery but with the help of Mance and some spearwives, Theon is able to escape Winterfell with Jeyne during a winter storm. Currently, in the books, Theon is set to be executed by Stannis Baratheon, who is currently holding him captive.

Theon Greyjoy may be a fuckup, but to me he is such an amazing character. He holds much conflict, from being a hostage/ward to Prince to prisoner. Theon Greyjoy may have done a lot of shit, but he is also a survivor. Everything he has been put through, he somehow lives to see another day. Despite holding negative feelings to Lord Stark and everyone around, claiming he owed no one anything (fair enough), he loved Robb. When Theon had found out he was murdered at the Red Wedding, you know what he thought?

I should have been with him. Where was I? I should have died with him.

Theon is far from perfect, but that is what makes him great. He has come so far, and I hope his journey does not end any time soon.

9. Suki - Avatar: The Last Airbender

Zuko may have the best redemption arc (or does he? See above.), but Suki holds a special place in my heart.

We first meet Suki season one, on Kyoshi Island. She is the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, and effectively puts Sokka in his place. However, when Sokka requests a few lessons, Suki is happy to help...as long as he followed the guidelines.

Suki is a certified badass. Although a non-bender, Suki has incredible skill and event went against Azula. However, Suki and the others surrendered (so that Appa would not be captured), leading to her imprisonment at Boiling Rock. Eventually, Sokka and Zuko free her (with the help of Mai). After this, Suki joined the Gaang in ceasing the 100 Year War.

Suki is strong but like many other characters in this list, she has heart. She is an effective leader and fighter, offering her help whenever she can. Too bad she was never mentioned in The Legend of Korra. Suki is underrated and she deserves more love and respect.

10. Max Mayfield - Stranger Things

We first meet Max in season 2 as the new girl in Hawkins. She seems like your average girl but she quickly gets tied into the party after Lucas begs her to show her what has happened with him and the rest of the party. However, there’s a lot more to Max.

Max moved to Hawkins with her mother, stepfather, and stepbrother. It’s easy to see that Max and Billy, her stepbrother, do not get along. Billy is outright mean to her, lashing out at practically every chance he gets. Max fights back, however...especially when he threatens her friends.

In season 3, we finally get to see Max and El bond. (Thank God we didn’t have to put up with the “jealousy” tidbit. I would have--) El believes that Mike is lying and Max is like, “Well yeah. Come on let’s go to the mall!” and the girls have a blast together. I was so happy to see the two bond and have fun. I was so happy that El was spending time with someone other than Mike. I was so happy the girls were having fun by themselves. Honestly, the best part of season 3 was them becoming friends.

I love Max because she is confident and is not afraid to speak her mind. She’s funny and in many ways, we are alike. (Especially with our attitudes on boys and relationships.) However, Max is also vulnerable. We see this with her stepbrother, especially in season 3 I think. Their relationship was drastically different in season 3 and while many didn’t like it (myself included)...I also thought about Max. She’s a young girl and no matter how much bad blood was in between them, it will be traumatizing to see a transformation like this to someone you know quite well. It would be scary.

Anyway, I love Max.

Honorable mentions: Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat), Ororo Munroe (Storm), Jean Grey (Phoenix), Anna Marie (Rogue), Sam Nishimura, Malia Tate, all of House Martell, Dustin Henderson...

Thanks for reading! I hope you all enjoyed reading this. Tell me, do I have a certain type of character that I’m attracted to? Also, I’m not sure who has all done this, so if you haven’t it: who are your top 10 favorite characters? Let me know!

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Scandals Stick Together

ao3

Prompt: No Capes AU - First Kiss

Woo! I did it! All seven days, hell yeah!

~~~

Tim thinks that if the room was any more glittery he'd probably be having a seizure. He can't help but wonder if the many chandeliers in the room are real diamond. Bruce only uses crystal in his. 

Bruce's hand closes on Tim's shoulder and Tim's eyes flutter closed for a moment. He wishes Bruce's hand was his dad's. But his dad is in a coma, he reminds himself. It's not his fault that he can't be here to work Tim through his first professional gala. 

"Hey there, Timmy." Bruce says with a smile just as glittery as the rest of the room. "It's good to see you at one of these!"

"Bruce, good to see you too."

"Have you thought any further about my offer?" 

"To buy Drake Industries?" Or the other offer? Tim wonders. The one where he offered Tim to move in with him and Alfred. To work at Wayne Enterprises. To become Tim's legal guardian while his father is still in a coma.

Social workers are terrified to touch Tim's case, and as long as Tim keeps paying them to push it to the bottom of the pile they never will. But it's getting expensive. He can't push it off forever, and having Bruce Wayne as his legal guardian wouldn't be so bad. His other strays seemed to have done well--well, Dick anyway. 

Tim is losing hold on Drake Industries. Every since the plane crash stock has been going down. It's going to crash soon. News of the buyout could, frankly, make it go either way at this point. If Tim agrees he'll have nothing to lose.

But it's the last thing he has of his parents. Dad.... Dad's probably never going to wake up. 

"I told you, I have no interest in selling. I am going to bring Drake Industries out of the ground, you know I can." It's not totally a lie. Bruce does know how competent Tim is. He knows that Tim, if he dropped out of high school, got emancipated, and managed to convince his company that a fifteen year old CEO is a good idea, could do it. If he really tried. 

But Tim's tired. He's so tired. 

Bruce knows that Lois Lane is watching the two of them too closely for Tim's comfort. One word from her and his stock price plummets, and Tim can lose everything. 

Bruce's eyes slide to Clark Kent who sits next to her. He's only focused on Luthor--as always--so even if he did catch something they're saying he wouldn't care, or he'd be nice enough about it that he might actually tick DI up a few points in the stock market. 

Bruce lets out a big belly laugh (one that Tim can tell is fake) and slaps Tim on the shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt. 

"Well, you know, if you ever need anything, Kid. Come straight to me." He says with an easy smile and he ruffles Tim's (meticulously gelled) hair. But Tim takes that for exactly what he knows Bruce means. They'll talk about this later. Bruce walks backwards away from him with a wave. "Let's do lunch!"

"Yeah," Tim mumbles, a little pink from the way people are now staring at him, "let's." 

Bruce goes off to flirt with Lois and (probably, from the way Mr. Kansas City has turned bright red) Clark, which leaves Tim some reprieve from endless questions about his future for the company. Tim's hair is now sticking up in a non-artful way so he narrowly dodges old white rich folks and their perfectly made up children as he weaves his way to the bathroom.

He's not the only one fixing his hair it seems, as two other men are as well. One is a boy a little older than him and (presumably) his father. Both of whom are trying to hide that they are watching Tim out of the corners of their eyes. 

As Tim turns his back on them to leave (although he can clearly see them in the reflection on the shiny eco-friendly heat dryer) the father leans over to his son and whispers: "That's Tim Drake. He's acting chair of his company and he's going to lose it to that Wayne idiot in a few weeks. Read it in Forbes."

Tim ignores the way his cheeks turn red and rushes out of there as fast as he can. 

Tim hates the way people look at him now. Ives feels sorry for him, but that's because Ives actually cares about him. The fake way these people do, makes him want to snatch a champagne flute from one of the servers and down it. But really the last thing he needs is to get drunk or tipsy, to say the wrong word in a room filled with piranhas who have diamond teeth and lose everything before he ever gets a chance to earn it back. 

Mrs. Powers corners him (old Gotham money, he tells himself) and starts with condolences (as they always do) before moving onto the obligatory "How's your father doing?" ("Well! Doctors just want him to stay a little more for observation but he'll be up and about in no time!" He says,) then to "do you need anything, darling?" ("Fuck you too Mrs. Powers," he doesn't say). 

Tim doesn't know when exactly he gets surrounded by old rich women, but suddenly they're engulfing him. None of them squeeze his cheeks like they used to, or pat his head, or try to straighten his tie (he hopes that one's because it's still straight but he knows that's probably not the case). Instead they keep distance from him. He's no longer a child of a rival but the rival himself (the floundering rival, perhaps). They're not treating him as an equal so much as something diseased to excise. 

He misses the days when he could just blend in next to his father's side or, at least, hang out with the other rich kids. Wow them with his knowledge (and the thrill) of living in Gotham. 

Tim passes the drink counter (under which he's positive Winston Price the Third and Jennifer Wallaby are making out, because last gala, when he was one of them, Winston had told him he planned to do just that next time he saw her) and orders a soder despite what he really wants. The waiter laughs at him but cuts it out with a glare from Tim and gets him what he ordered. 

He wishes that Luthor would just get on with the dinner part of the night. He was too nervous to eat all day and now he's starving. Also, prearranged seating means people will stop coming up to him to show him they care. 

"Tim Drake, I am shocked to see you here," speak of the devil... "shouldn't you be caring for your father?" 

Luthor knows. Luthor has always known, just as Tim has. His father isn't waking up, no matter what Tim manages to fool the rest of the world into thinking. 

Lex Luthor smirks and Tim turns around. He plasters what he hopes is a Bruce Wayne brand smile on his face. "Mr. Luthor!" He covers his eyes and squints, as if the sun is blinding him. "Good to see you!"

Luthor frowns slightly. "Are... you feeling alright, Mr. Drake?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just," Tim lowers his voice and leans closer to Luthor as if he is telling a secret, "with all these lights, your head is just blinding me." Luthor's lips turn into a pale line. "Really, I think you might want to see a doctor about your perspiration, it's so.... shiny. I'm sure my father's doctor would love to offer some... discreet suggestions."

The snicker behind Luthor almost makes Tim drop his hand. Luthor whips around. Ah yes, and there is the boy that made Tim's takeover of DI old news. 

Conner Luthor. Appeared, as if from nowhere, just after everything from Haiti was settled. The de facto heir to Lex Luthor. Being trained to succeed him, but who's training wasn't even close to succeeding. 

Partier, playboy, and very hot. Luthor's polar opposite. Also, the same age as Tim. 

"Conner, maybe you should carry this conversation with Tim, after all you two have more in common than I do with him." A dig at his youth, lovely.

But before Tim can bite anything back, Conner says in a flippant way: "Well, beauty before age. Isn't that the saying?"

So the rumors are true, they don't seem to be able to stand each other. 

Careful, Tim, he warns himself, cute boys with sparkling smiles might be more than they appear. 

"Lex! How wonderful to see you!" A familiar voice hums behind Luthor, snapping the tension building. The singsong voice can only be Bruce. 

Tim wonders if Bruce has been watching him. Tim doesn't need his help. He doesn't want his help. He just wants to go home. 

Luthor grimaces at Bruce. "Wayne."

"Say, is this your son?" Bruce asks, turning his attention on Conner. He sticks out a hand. "Good to meet you, chum!" Bruce flashes a grin at Lex, "And they call me a playboy. Wow, she must have been a looker, huh, Lex?"

Luthor looks as though he might combust. Conner doesn't take the bait or the hand (he's been famously tight-lipped about his other parent and life before he took on the Luthor name). Conner glares at Bruce. Tim notices that Luthor hasn't convinced him to get rid of the earring for tonight (one more scandal to add to the Conner Luthor package) and wishes he hadn't. He doesn't have time to notice these things. He has to network. To try and dig himself back into a good light for the sake of his company. 

But Bruce, in his blundering and self-focused way, has managed to give Tim a way to slip out of this interaction. All eyes are on Bruce. 

Tim used to have a theory that Bruce was smarter than he appeared. His father had told him that was stupid. Sometimes, Tim thought he was right, but ever since he'd gotten to know Bruce he'd understood his mistake. So he gratefully takes the exit Bruce offers. 

He can't hide, but he wants to. He really wants to.

Thankfully, though it seems that it's time for the dinner part of the gala to begin and everyone and their drinks are ushered into the next room. 

Tim is seated at table nineteen with eight other people who only represent five different companies. Tim sits next to the daughter of a mogul on his left and the son of a different one on his right and it's clear to everyone that the artful Mr. Timothy Drake (Drake Industries) on his place card is just a courtesy. Everyone knows where he really belongs. 

Luthor stands and begins his speech which Tim tries really hard to listen to but gets bored. He knows the gist of it, new tech, bringing Metropolis into the future, thank you for coming, etc etc etc. 

Tim's eyes travel to Conner's seat at table number one, and finds that he's not there. Of course not, probably ditching. 

Tim wishes he could ditch. He knows that the teens on either side of him will find one of their go-to excuses after a respectable amount of dinner and go up to one of the balconies or the roof to drink and smoke and play spin the bottle and other things their parents wouldn't approve of, before making their way back down by dessert and leaving completely respectably, none of the parents the wiser. Tim knows this because Tim used to do just that. 

Despite that Tim hasn't eaten all day his salad just doesn't look that appetizing anymore. 

"So, Timothy, I'm so sorry to hear about your parents. Who are you staying with?" The old lady across from him asks. The speech has ended and everyone has begun their first course. He can feel heat rising to his cheeks. None of his family members wanted him. 

"Myself. I have an attorney for general legal issues but I can live on my own until my father can come home."

"What a smart young lad you are!" The father of the girl on his right says. 

"And so well organized too! I can't imagine my Peter running my company at his age." The father of the boy on his left says. The kid himself looks like he would give anything not to be there right then, Tim agrees. 

"Well, I just worry. It's so difficult to be a deciding factor in a company's decisions and for one so young-why, it must bore you to death!"

Don't tell them anything they can use, Tim reminds himself, lie. 

"Really, it's a piece of cake."

"Well then!" The other adults (read: vultures) around the table seem delighted. 

"Well he may not be bored," one of the younger people at the table says, he's the head of some start-up or another, "but I'm sure we don't want to bore the other kids with this table talk. How is your dog, Miranda? I heard she was sick?" And from there the conversation, thankfully, is led away from the topic of Tim and Drake Industries. The girl next to Tim begins going on about how her teacup poodle has cancer or something and Tim fazes out again. 

Just after the soup course is served Miranda explains to her father that she's having some "lady problems" and might be a while. At the end of it Peter tells his father that he thinks he sees Conner Luthor over by that way, would it be alright if he says hi? (Tim glances over, and Conner isn't there). He's excused as well with a chortling: "Already networking! What an entrepreneurial spirit, that one!" 

By the meat course Tim is losing his mind. The Start-Up Guy tries valiantly to steer the conversation away from Tim's parents but eventually even he is overwhelmed by rich old people and Tim has to repeat the same lies he's been saying for days now. 

It's only once Miranda's father says that Tim might have been a good match for her, if only he were a little older that Tim decides to excuse himself with a 'phone call' from work. Something these people will understand. 

Tim makes it all the way out of the ballroom, and then he decides to push his luck and go looking for some people his own age. 

Since breaking down in a bathroom isn't an option (old rich people use bathrooms too), Tim decides that he might be able to find himself a secluded area where the kids are. 

It's not hard to find them. They're in a much smaller ballroom on the second floor of the Luthor Concert Hall. There's a balcony, Tim knows, he's been here before. 

Rock music blares and can be felt outside the room. Tim used to think that them playing music that loudly was a challenge to their parents: catch us. But now Tim understands it for what it is, just loud music. 

Tim opens the door and a son of an African CEO hands him a joint. Tim wants to, but like so many things lately, he can't. He can't risk it. 

The kid just shrugs, and lights it himself. 

The room smells like smoke: all sorts. Tim spies some beers some of them smuggled in, and some wines from the receiving hall downstairs. His eyes snag on the champagne, but it's the cognac that he really wants. 

"Traitor." Someone says to his left. He turns. It's Joseph. His dad is COO for Maxie Zeus. It's good natured, Tim knows, because Joseph is smiling. "I thought we weren't going to turn into our parents." 

"Didn't have much of a choice."

"Bullshit." Lucy says from Joseph's side. "Let them go belly up and cash out."

"My Dad's going to pick the company back up in a bit." This is the last thing Tim wants, he came up here to stop talking about DI. People are starting to watch him. He can see Conner eating Miranda's face in the corner of the room. 

"How'd you even swing it anyway?" Ha Joon asks. 

"Yeah, aren't social services up your ass?"

"Guys, leave him alone." He hears Tam Fox say. She's always had his back. 

"What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham." Preston snipes. 

"Be nice!" Lucy says. 

"What about school?" Peter asks. 

There's enough of a lull in the interrogation that Tim answers with a shrug and scuffs his shoe against the tile floor. "I'm dropping out." This causes more of an uproar than anything else. 

"No way!"

"God, my Mom would kill me if I dropped out."

"Kill you? My Dad would disown me!"

"Only disown? Wow, your parents are uncreative. There's more than one way to skin a kid that's for fucking sure."

It doesn't occur to any of them that Tim wouldn't have to drop out if his father really was doing okay. 

"Seriously?" Tam asks. Clearly Lucius hadn't told her. Because Tim had told Bruce and there was no way that Bruce hadn't told Lucius. 

"Yeah, seriously." Tim says. 

"What's the big deal? I dropped out." Conner Luthor says with a shrug and all eyes turn towards him. 

"Did you really?" Lucy asks. 

"I mean, I basically did. I never go anyway."

"Ah, young grasshopper. We all don't go to school. But it takes some special cajones to drop out." Vido says. 

"What's the difference?" Conner asks. 

"See, don't go to school and your Dad just pays the administration office to keep it quiet. Drop out and he pays the reporters to keep it out of the newspapers." Preston tells him. 

Conner cocks a wicked eyebrow. "And if he pays both?" 

Everyone listening shakes with laughter. "Then you must have done something really bad," Lucy says, eyes traveling up and down Conner as if only now sizing him up. Conner languishes in the attention from her and Miranda who is staring at him like he's a god. Conner winks at Lucy and Tim feels a little sick. The smoke swirls around Tim's head, making it swim.

“What about that girl of yours? What was her name… Ariana?” Peter asks. “Did you ever get that first kiss?” 

“My parents were held hostage and my mom died.” Tim says more harshly than he means to. He needs some fresh air. 

Tim heads to the balcony but before he gets there Tam grabs his arm. "Hey, how are you really doing? Really?"

Tim grimaces. "What happens in Gotham stays in Gotham, right?"

Tam looks disappointed but she doesn't push and Tim opens the balcony doors. 

The night is cool which is good against his burning cheeks. He wants to rip off the monkey suit. The tie itches and the gel is making his hair feel greasy and his feet hurt and he's still a little hungry. All these little things are coming up and bashing him in the face now. 

"You really from Gotham?" Conner Luthor asks from behind him, making Tim jump. 

"Yeah." He says. 

"Rad." He says which makes Tim laugh even though it shouldn't. Conner grins at him. "So, a kid CEO, huh? Didn't know that was possible."

"It's not. Not really. But I'm trying." (And failing, he doesn't say. Again, it doesn't seem to occur to Conner that it wouldn't matter whether he fails or not, if his father is coming back.) 

"No one's given you shit about being bisexual?" Conner asks. 

"What? I'm not-"

"Oh. Sorry, I just assumed since they said about that Ariana chick and the way you look at me so-"

"I don't-Not you-!"

Conner snorts. "Please, I'm scandalous, not blind."

Tim shuts his mouth abruptly. "What do you want?" Tim asks in a low voice. Conner must be spying on him, there's no way Lex would give up this information. 

"Nothing!" Conner frowns. "Why should I want anything?"

So that was how he wanted to play it. Tim frowns. "I should probably head back down-" He says but when he turns around to go back into the room he finds the balcony door is locked. 

Tim tries not to cry. This can't be happening. It can't- He has to be able to get back down to the party, he-! 

"Locked out?" Conner asks. 

Tim leans his forehead on the door. He wants to die. 

Conner leans over him and bangs on the door but the music is loud enough that no one hears him. 

Conner scowls. "Well I guess now you're stuck out here with me."

"I'm screwed." Tim says in disbelief. They'll be locked out here forever, and even if they aren't it doesn't matter. Coming up here in the first place was a stupid thing to do. Ten more minutes is enough to ruin whatever reputation he has left downstairs. 

Maybe he should just accept Bruce's offer. Whatever he'll get for Drake Industries will be more than whatever it's worth. 

Tim feels tears leak from his eyes. He rubs at them angrily. He's going to lose everything. Every part of his parents, of his Dad.... Mom... 

"Hey, it's not so bad! I promise! I'm less annoying than I seem at first impression!" Conner says hastily. Tim wipes at his face but he's sobbing now. 

"I-It's not you. It's not-It's not- I'm not-" but he can't say anything without the words coming out as a garbled mess. 

Conner, confused and worried, tries to comfort him by putting a hand on his back. Tim pushes him away. "Hey, it's okay." Conner says. He pulls Tim into a hug anyway. 

"I'm going to lose everything." Tim tells him, words spilling out of his mouth. He'll accept Bruce's offer tonight. The paperwork will be done before they get home to Gotham and it won't matter what Conner tells Luthor because it'll already be done. "My company... everything my parents worked so hard for... it's going to be gone. I'm going to lose the last of them."

"But... I thought your father was getting better..." Conner says. Then he realizes what Tim's been hiding. "He's not getting better, is he?" 

Tim shakes his head. His shoulders tremble. Conner holds him tight and he cries into Conner's shirt--soaking it. 

Tim tells him everything. From Bruce's offer for the company to his offer of fatherhood. Conner listens silently, rubbing Tim's back and nodding. When Tim finally calms down, Conner presses his lips to the top of Tim's head. The kiss so fleeting Tim wonders if he imagined it. "You're going to be okay. You at least have Bruce Wayne, don't you? And don't lose hope, stranger things have happened. Your father could wake up."

"And if he does, I'll have sold his company away, don't think that he'll be happy about that." 

"He'll be happy enough that he's alive and so are you."

You don't know my father, Tim wants to tell him. But he doesn't. 

Conner wipes his thumb across Tim's tear-streaked face. "I don't even know why I told you all of that."

"I've got a listener's face." He says.

Tim snorts. "Yes, exactly. That's what everyone says about you. Lex's infamously obedient child."

Conner winks. "Only for cute boys. Lex can screw himself." 

Tim raises an eyebrow. "Really?" The mysterious boy, who came from nowhere, heir to a fortune and company whose CEO he looked nothing like. Tim likes mysteries. Always did. 

And then there was the cute boy comment. Tim tries not to think about that one too hard. 

"Isn't that what the tabloids say?" Conner asks. He spreads his hands out in a half-shrug. 

"Guess I never really believed they really knew anything about you. Not that they really know anything about you."

"I'm a man of mystery." Conner shrugs uncomfortably.

"Clearly." Tim raises an eyebrow. "Come on, tell me something about yourself. Anything. I told you my entire life story."

"Uh uh. That's my business to keep." Conner says shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. Tim sighs, but supposes that is his right.

Of course, without DI on his plate he can go back to his amatur conspiracy theorist detective work. Maybe he'll figure it out on his own. 

Tim sizes Conner up. Yeah, he can figure it out.  Conner's a teenager, and he exists which means he had to come from somewhere. He wasn't just born fifteen. Made in some lab. 

"Yeah," Tim agrees though, "that's fair."

Conner nods. There's a knock on the door and both boys jump as Tam pokes her head out. 

"Tim? Dad's says you better get back downstairs, Mr. Lord is saying some pretty nasty things about your father and Bruce is doing what he can but-"

"Thanks, Tam. I'll head down now." Tim tells her. 

She looks from him to Conner suspiciously. "Gothamites stick together," is her veiled response, her glare at Conner showing what she really wants to say. 

She leans back into the room and Tim just barely catches the door before it locks the two of them out again. 

"Wow. Tell us how you really feel." Conner grumbles at her back. 

Tim turns back to Conner. "Thanks. For... not being weirded out by me sobbing into your silk shirt." (Which is now ruined by the way, he doesn't say.)

"Hey, scandals stick together, right?" Conner offers with a quick grin. 

Tim smiles back and turns to leave when Conner grabs him by the hand. "Hey, wait-!"

Tim turns just as Conner bends down to kiss his lips gently. Tim is too stunned to react as Conner pushes past him into the room. His first kiss and it’s with a Luthor. "Text me next time you want to vent. Listening face." He says, pointing to said face to emphasize his point. "Wayne's got my number. I think." Then he disappears into the party. 

Tim watches him go, shocked. He's standing there so long, mouth open, that Luke walks past him at some point and he says: "I thought Tam told you what Dad said? You going back downstairs?" 

Which restarts Tim and he rushes downstairs, cheeks pink. 

~~~

"Well?" Lex asks as he and Conner sit in the limo back to the penthouse. "Learn anything useful from that Drake boy?"

Conner stares out the black tinted windows, watching as the streetlights zoom past and trying not to think about how Tim's lips had felt pressed against his. "Not a thing. Didn't even show up to the kid party like you said he would." 

Lex narrows his eyes at his son. "I see." 

Conner just shrugs. "Better luck next time."

[queen-of-the-vampires]

waiting for superman

characters: stefan salvatore x reader

word count: 1,860

warnings: minor angst, fluff

summary: stefan is the superman you’ve been waiting for your entire life

beta: she wants to remain anonymous

square filled: waiting for superman by daughtry

author’s note: this is for my own song bingo and i am hosting a challenge on this blog, so if you’re a writer, and wan to participate, it would really mean a lot if you wanted to participate! if you have any requests, please send them in!

feedback the glue that holds my writing together

tags at the bottom

Falling in love way too easily is just one of the things you considered bad about yourself. There have been many dates with a lot of different men where you think things are going well, but they always end up not calling you, or they tell you they didn’t want to see you anymore. Each night ended all the same; you alone in your room, wondering what went wrong.

At first, you thought it was you, that you did or said something wrong. It would be the only thing on your mind the entire week after the date as you tried to figure out why these men weren't calling you back. If you didn’t hear from a guy and saw him on the streets the next day, he would always make some excuse as to why he never called you back. It broke your heart every time a man did that to you, but you were a romantic, and you couldn’t help but look for the same love you were trying to give out.

All you wanted was for Superman to sweep you off your feet. But, things just don’t happen like they do in the movies.

She’s watching the taxi driver, he pulls away She’s been locked up inside her apartment a hundred days

She says, “Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape.” She’s just watching the clouds roll by and they spell her name Like Lois Lane And she smiles, oh the way she smiles

Despite being let down every time, you still had hope that the next guy you went out with would be the one you stayed with forever. Getting out of the taxi, you smoothed down the sundress you wore with a smile on your face as you paid the driver cash for the ride.

“Whoever he is, I hope you have fun,” the driver said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. The man who agreed to date you said to meet at the park, but you were a tad too early. Nothing wrong with that, so you took a seat on the park bench as you waited for him to show. Your brain was racing with a thousand thoughts, wondering if he would show. It wouldn't be the first time a man stood you up, but you liked to have hope that one day, one man, would be different.

People passed by you, and you kept looking at them in hopes of them being your date for the evening. After the third time you looked at your watch, you realized he was 45 minutes late. Sighing, you looked down at your dress as you ruffled the edges.

“He’s still coming, just a little late. He probably got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape,” you sighed as you spoke to yourself. ” Another 15 minutes went by, and you knew he wasn’t showing up. There’s always a next time, right? you thought to yourself as you flagged down a taxi.

“Hey, I remember you. Have fun on your date?” the same taxi driver asked you as you got in.

“Yeah, tons,” you lied with a fake smile on your face.

She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars Making a wish on a passing car She’s dancing with strangers, Falling apart Waiting for Superman to pick her up In his arms, yeah, in his arms, yeah Waiting for Superman

You lived in this fairy tale life, waiting and wishing on shooting stars that you would find the one for you. It’s what comes with being a hopeless romantic. Any man who gave you the slightest bit of attention caught your interest because you were so desperate for their attention. You’ve been alone for so long, you were desperate for their affection, craving it like a drug addict.

Every week, it’s always a new guy, a stranger you never met before. As you’re with him, all you could think about is the man who was meant for you, somewhere out there in the world. Hope blossomed in your chest when you were with your date that he might be the one, but when the end of the night came, it was always the same.

She says, “Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the Five and Dime saving the day.” She says, "If life was a movie, then it wouldn’t end like this, Left without a kiss.” Still, she smiles, oh, the way she smiles, yeah

As you wait for your new date to show, you think to yourself, as he’s running late, He’s just a little late. He’ll be here this time. He’s probably stuck at the Five and Dime, saving the day. This time, he shows, and you two have a lot of fun on the date. He spent the whole time making you laugh, treating you like a princess, and made you feel like a million bucks. You two had a lot in common, and you thought that maybe he was the one.

He walked you home at the end of the night, and, as you stared at him all he did was smile, and say, “Let’s do this again sometime” before leaving. He walked off without a kiss on the lips or the cheek, and you could feel your heart breaking just a little. Everyone knows what “let’s do that again sometime” really means.

He wasn’t the one.

“If life was a movie, then it wouldn’t end like this… left without a kiss,” you whispered as you headed inside your house. ”

She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars Making a wish on a passing car She’s dancing with strangers, She’s falling apart Waiting for Superman to pick her up In his arms, yeah, in his arms, yeah She’s waiting for Superman…

…to lift her up and take her anywhere Show her love and flying through the air Save her now before it’s too late tonight Oh, at the speed of light And she smiles

Left on the bench by the park again. Another date, another man, another night of tears and feelings of loneliness. Maybe that was your M.O. Maybe, you were destined to end up alone. Not everyone had a soulmate, and not everyone finds love. Maybe, you were one of those people. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice a big furball heading your way until you felt a wet nose at your bare leg. Looking down, you saw a beautiful golden retriever staring at you.

“Hi buddy, how are you?” you asked the dog as if he could answer. Instead of using words, the dog put its paws on your shorts, leaned up and licked your face. Laughing, you put both hands on his head as you scratched behind his ears.

“You’re just so friendly,” you said as you noticed a collar and a tag on him. Pulling away, you read the tag to see what his name was and who he belonged to. “Bailey.” The dog barked in response to you saying his name, and you pulled out your phone to call the number engraved on the tag. Before you could dial, you heard the dog’s name being called as his owner came rushing at you.

“Bailey! There you are! I am so sorry!” a man said. Looking up, you locked eyes with a beautiful man who sported bright green eyes and light brown hair. He was tall, from what you could see but put him next to you and he was the perfect height. The dog got off you and look at his owner with his tongue out.

“Don’t worry about it,” you blushed as you pet Bailey’s head one last time before his owner could put a leash on him.

“We’re trying to go for leashless walks. I don’t think he’s ready yet,” he chuckled.

“It’s no problem. I love dogs, and he seems really friendly.”

“Yeah, he is. I’m Stefan, by the way,” he introduced himself as he held out his hand. Taking it, you shook it slowly since you were kind of in shock from his presence.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Again, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay it’s not a problem.”

“Well, have a good day,” he said politely as he started to walk away with his dog. Sighing softly, you looked at your watch once more before realizing your date wasn’t going to show. Guess it’s another night in the bathtub with wine. As Stefan looked back at you, he watched as you looked at your watch with a frown. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he knew that you had been stood up. No one should go through what you clearly went through a bunch of times. He didn't know why someone would stand you up because he saw a very beautiful woman. Looking at Bailey, his dog seemed to give him the courage he needed as he nudged his leg to go back to you.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Yes?” you asked as you looked up at Stefan.

“Would you like to join me? Bailey seems to really like you, and it gets boring with no one to talk to. I’ll buy you some ice cream or something to eat if you’re hungry?” The look in his eyes told you he was being sincere with his offer. Looking at your watch once more, you decided to screw it and go with the stranger. At least you would have someone to talk to.

“I’d like that. It gets boring just sitting here and watching the world pass you by,” you chuckled. The two of you left the park bench comfortable as Bailey walked between you two.

“So, you from around here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I live about six blocks away from here. Nice city, and it’s not overly crowded. What about you?”

“I just moved here recently. I’m trying to get used to the parks since I go running in the morning, and would like to know my way around.”

“Well, I’m almost always here, so we’re bound to run into each other sometime.”

“I hope I didn’t steal you away from something important. Were you waiting for someone?”

“Um, no. Nothing important going on here,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t hear the disappointment in your voice.

“Look, I hope I’m not too forward or anything, but the guy who stood you up is a jerk.”

“What?” you whispered, not believing your ears.

“The guy who stood you up? Yeah, he doesn’t know what he’s missing. From what I can tell, you’re amazing and very beautiful,” he spoke the truth. A small smile formed on your face once your brain processed his words. ”

“Thanks, Stefan.”

“Now, come on, I think I can hear ice cream call our names,” he chuckled as he guided you to the nearest ice cream shop. For some weird reason, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it, Bailey approaching you in the park was the best thing that could have happened to you because you think you just found your superman.

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