#i don’t even know if dick going to Hudson university and dropping out is still canon but it’s always canon in my heart

[heroesriseandfall]

Comics timelines are so funny because whenever I feel like college is taking forever I have to remember Dick Grayson went to university in 1969 and dropped out in 1980 and after all that they claimed he’d only been there for one semester. Well no wonder he dropped out, I would also drop out if one college semester took me a decade.

[aelaer]

First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view. 

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless. 

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[mysweetestcreature]

Wish Upon A Star (StepBro!Harry) Part VI

Part V

***

Present Day: Six Years Later

“Look, I don’t care what Clintworth wants, the budget is the budget. So, you can tell him that it just can’t be done,” she slams the handset back on the base. She leans over to prop her elbows on the surface of the desk and brings her fingers up to soothe her temples. It’s April, and the marketing department has already hired their quota of new strategists for the season. However, the bloody head insists on taking in more than their budget permits. “Stubborn Americans,” she grumbles to herself.

After graduation, Y/n had been offered a job at one of the fastest rising corporations in New York. In just eighteen months, she managed to rise in the ranks to executive accountant. It’s a true testament to how much one can achieve with grueling nights of overtime and coffee running through the bloodstream.  

With a loud sigh, Y/n grabs her purse and coat, and pushes out the doors of her office, “I’m going out to lunch. If I have any messages, write it down and put it on my desk, yeah?” she calls to her assistant as she heads straight for the elevator. “Thanks, Miguel,” she winks. 

The weather is beginning to shift to higher temperatures after having suffered through a ghastly winter. She enjoys the moments when she’s able to walk through her city rather than having to hail for a cab. It’s true what they had told her before, the energy here is an incomparable force, and to think she almost ran away from it all. Truth be told, she hasn’t been home in over three years. There’s nothing there for her anymore, all that she could ever want is all right here. 

The money she’s making at work is decent enough that she’s able to afford a nice apartment on the Upper West Side. From her bedroom window, is a nice view of the Hudson. The thought that at twenty-four, she’s able to live such a lifestyle, still baffles her. Although, she has gotten accustomed to the nightlife that surrounds the area, it’s rather enjoyable. 

On special occasion, like when she’s sick of reading through all the financial reports that seem to pile high on her desk every day, she’ll call up either Anne or Eric for a few minute’s chat. They’d recently sold the house in Holmes Chapel and are now living in Camden. The decision was brought about when Eric was promoted to lead the London office, and he just couldn’t refuse such an offer. 

Her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket and she smiles when she sees who it is. “Hey there,” she flirtatiously greets.

“Someone’s running a bit late,” the person on the other end says. She giggles into the phone as she rounds the corner of 51st.   

“I’m walking into the restaurant as we speak. I can even see you right now!” she hangs up her phone and strolls over to the man dressed in the fitted navy-blue suit. He smirks when he sees her approaching and opens his arms out for her to enter. The man kisses her on the cheek before pulling out the chair for her to sit in.

“I see you decided to walk here,” he teases. “How’s work?” he asks while he glances over the menu.

She places the folded napkin in her lap and does the same. “Nothing out of the ordinary, it would just bore you,” she shrugs off. 

“Dollface,” he reaches for her hand across the table, “you could never bore me.” She looks up from reading the mouthwatering description of the taglierini to smile at him. 

“If you’re that curious, I’ve practically been breathing down marketing’s necks,” she says lightly.

He chuckles and kisses her knuckles, “It’s what you’re best at.” She playfully shoves at him before pulling her hand away.

“I resent that, William!” he lifts his hands up in mock surrender.

They had met during her last year at NYU. He was in one of the major business-exclusive fraternities and had bumped into her at one of their parties. At first, she didn’t think anything of him, but he was persistent and pursued her. It took about three months before she accepted to go on a date with him. One night out turned into frequent evenings spent walking through Central Park, and the rest is history. 

***

He tilts his head up and studies the way the wall is being painted. As he takes a closer look, he notices the air bubbles forming just above the arch. “Repaint this part when you get the chance, will you, Tony?” he orders. He waits for Tony to give him a salute before continuing to supervise the rest of the crew.

This is Harry’s biggest project to date. A social networking company based in America had acquired him to design the plans for their new London branch. They’ve made quite the wave in the recent years, and Harry was honored to take on such a job. 

Upon completion of his education, he’d been contracted by his place of internship to be a full-time architect. Harry has quickly become one of the most requested, and soon he’ll be eyeing a position as a partner. While he may be a bit young for that, if this project goes off without a hitch, he’s guaranteed for early consideration. 

His mum says he works too much and complains that he never visits them enough. He tries to see them at least twice a month, but it seems like he’s always got stuff to do, or so he tells them. Anne��s tried to set him up on dates with daughters of friends she’s made. None of them are of major interest to him. Relationships in general aren’t of any interest. 

Some would say he’s married to his job, and they’re probably right. Even while at university, Harry had poured his all into his school work. He considered everything around him to be a distraction, and he would only make time for social activity once he was sure to be at least two weeks ahead of deadlines. 

***

Age 20:

It’s a Friday night, and everyone in the dorms is out drinking, or partying, or both. Harry has his headphones on to cancel out the noise while he focuses on completing a blueprint which isn’t due for another week. His professor has been quite impressed with him, and he’s even offering him a student internship at his firm. 

Harry pretends that he doesn’t see his door open, and he chooses to ignore the blonde that waltzes over to him. He sighs when she takes off his headphones and insists on sitting in his lap.

“Where’ve you been all week?” she questions, as she attempts to discreetly shove her breasts in his face. “I’ve missed you,” she huskily whispers in his ear. He can’t help the way his eyes roll in annoyance. He had shagged her a few days ago while under the influence of some concoction one of his mates had given him. She had been giving him suggestive looks all night, before he thought ‘fuck it’ and let her take him back to her room.

Although, he thought he’d seen the last of her when he’d left once she’d fallen asleep. The one-night stands had become his thing, and they were to remain just that. So, as this girl—whose name he can’t for the life of him remember—is disturbing him from his assignment, well, it just won’t do. 

“Look…Tessa, I had a great time the other night, really I did, but I’m not exactly looking for anything more right now,” he says and does his best to politely shove her the fuck off him. 

“Excuse me? It’s Monica, you dick!” she responds, looking fully offended. He throws her an unconcerned look, and she storms out of the room. 

He sits back in his chair and breathes out in relief.

***

Present Day:

When she finally gets home, she opens up a bottle of wine and pours a glass for her and William. He’s making her dinner tonight, having left work early. For the last month or two, he’s been hinting at wanting to move in. She first noticed when he asked her if she wanted him to make space in his closet for her clothes. It’s a sweet gesture, but Y/n doesn’t know if she’s ready for that kind of commitment, or if she’ll ever be ready to take that next step.

“I’ve got some exciting news for you,” he calls to her from his place in front of the stove. 

She takes a sip from her wine, “Do tell.”

William stirs the vegetables around in the saucepan and puts the heat on low. “I’ve got business matters to attend to in London, so I have to fly out there in a few weeks. Since you’re from there and all, I was hoping that you’d want to come with me?” he grins at her. 

“First of all, I’m from Manchester,” she pokes him in the side, “and…I don’t know, Will. I’ve got work and you know they can’t function without me.”

He dismisses her with a wave of his hand, “I told you, you should just come work for me. I can pay you double than what they’re paying you now.” Her cheeks suck inwards, not this conversation again. Not wanting to ruin the mood, she brushes it off. “I can finally meet your parents. You said they live around the area, right?”

“Yeah, but my dad-”

“Great! I’ll book our flight after dinner,” he cuts her off and goes back to his cooking. Y/n leans back against the counter, in distress. 

***

“You’re really coming here? To London?” Carrie’s voice booms through the phone. After their meal, Y/n had faked drowsiness in order to get William to leave. She submerged herself in a hot bath before calling up her friend.

“Apparently. The new branch is about to open up and he wants me to come along,” she mutters.

“Well it can’t be that dreadful.” 

A sarcastic laugh echoes through the bathroom, “Trust me, it can. He wants to meet my parents.”

The line is silent for a moment, “Is that a bad thing? I mean you’ve been with the guy for, what? Two, three years?”

“I just don’t think I’m ready for him to meet everyone,” Her leg splashes out of the water, and she watches the suds flow down her skin. 

“And by everyone, you mean him, don’t you?” Her heart drops at the mention of him.

“Of course not, it’s been six years…” she sighs. And in those six years, she hasn’t spoken to him once. She hadn’t come home for Christmas break that first year, and he’d been gone for the entire summer holiday. He has an Instagram, but rarely ever uses it, so she’s pretty much in the dark in everything concerning him. Although, the few pictures he has from a few years ago—wow. If she thought he was gorgeous before, it’s rather frustrating how he’s just…unreal. 

“Then get your arse back here! If you’re really over him, it won’t be a problem, yeah?”

Her body further immerses itself into the bath. From what her mum had told her over the phone, he rarely sees them anymore. Too busy with his job and whatnot. She thinks carefully about this, what are the odds that they’ll even see each other? London is such a big city, it can’t be that hard to avoid someone. 

***

Harry is lying face down on the bed when his phone rings. He reads the caller ID and immediately picks up. “Yes, Mr. Schwartz,” he answers, the naked body next to him slings an arm over his back. He carefully picks it off before pulling the covers off. “I’ve got my people doing the finishing touches.” The voice on the other line continues to babble on, and quite pretentiously at that. 

“Ok, I’ll be sure to contact the decorator to follow-up on the tables.” His head falls back, and he covers his eyes with his palm. “I’ll be there, see you,” he hangs up his phone. The project, while he’s incredibly thankful for it, has him working with some of the snobbiest people he’s ever had the displeasure of working with—that’s from having only talked to them over phone. Just the way this man talks makes his skin crawl. He thinks they feel entitled, calling him at inconvenient hours because they seem to forget about the five-hour time lapse. 

He gets back into bed and allows the woman he picked up at the bar to straddle his waist. Her lips fall onto his in a sloppy kiss. She starts her trail from his neck and down his body until her lips wrap around his semi-hard member. He sucks in a breath and keeps his eyes shut because that way, he can pretend it’s her. 

***

Y/n is panicking, actually scratch that, she’s gone into a full mode frenzy. She’s been pacing around her office for god knows how long, trying to pull herself together. Miguel is watching her with concerned eyes from where he sits on the couch tucked in the corner of the room. 

“This is insane! I’m a grown-ass woman and bringing her boyfriend to meet her parents shouldn’t be such a nerve-biting thing, right? Right?” she nearly yells at him for confirmation.

“Honey, you’re making me dizzy. You need to sit down,” he motions for her to lie on the cushions. When she does, she lays her feet in his lap for him to massage.  

“I just don’t know what to do. I haven’t seen my parents in-”

“Three years, I know.”

“And I haven’t seen him since-”

“He left you in that closet.” She glares at him. “What? Not my fault you spill tea whenever you’re drunk.” 

Miguel has been her assistant since she’s taken the position as executive accountant. He probably knows more about her than any employee should ever know about his boss. He quite enjoys it though, he finds her life to be so exciting and dramatic. 

“What am I going to do? I can’t handle this! It’ll be nearly impossible!” she groans, nearly pulling out her own hair. She hasn’t even forgiven her parents for ruining her last relationship, and now she’s expected to introduce them to her newest? “Give me advice,” she whines to Miguel. 

He lets out a huff, “Like you said, you’re a grown-ass woman. Everything that happened to you before should remain in the past. That includes your,” he pauses and bites his lower lip, “extremely fine stepbrother.” 

***

Age 14:

Harry is at some stupid sports camp, and Y/n has become extremely restless at home. It’s only been three days since he’s left, and he’s not scheduled back for another four. She already misses him like crazy. Who would have thought that she’d be searching for his incessant pestering and corny jokes that only she seems to find funny? Her mum has suggested calling him up, but she can’t do that! If Harry were to find out that she misses him, he’d never stop teasing her about it. 

“Sweetheart, just call him. I think he’d really appreciate it if you did,” Anne nudges her towards the phone. Y/n crinkles her nose in thought and squints at it, as if touching it would burn the flesh off her hand. “Oh, for goodness sake,” Anne mutters and before Y/n can do anything, Anne’s already dialed the number and is waiting for someone to pick up.

“Yes, this is Anne Y/L/N, Harry Styles’ mother. If it isn’t an inconvenience, I’d like to speak to him,” she smirks at Y/n. Anne’s eyes are suddenly widening and she literally shoves the phone to Y/n’s ear.

“Hello?” Y/n gasps when she hears Harry’s voice. She looks to her mum, but the sly woman has already made a sneaky escape. 

“Hi, Harry,” she shyly replies. Curse her mum for putting her in this situation.

“Y/n! Hey! How are you? Wow, didn’t realize how much I missed you until I heard your voice.” Y/n can feel her face flush and she bites her lips together to prevent the huge grin threatening to form. “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she pauses. “I miss you too, like a lot. Hurry home, ok?”

“I’ll try my best, anything for my favorite girl.” She slides down the wall and suppresses her squeals with her knees.

***

Her reflection seems to be of someone she doesn’t recognize, it’s the first thing she notices when she takes a good look at herself in the hotel bathroom mirror. The person in front of her lacks the confidence that she normally radiates. There’s this pang in her chest that hasn’t left her since landing this morning. And no matter how many times she tells herself to relax, she feels like she’s sinking further into the feeling. 

Being in this city makes her anxious. All the broken promises that should have been glare at her wherever she turns. They had passed her would have been university in the car here. Y/n quickly wiped the single tear that fell down her cheek before William could notice. She wonders where she would be if they hadn’t gotten caught but forces the thoughts out of her mind. What’s over is over. 

Her and William are meant to meet her parents for lunch in a bit. She’s peeved at the part of herself that’s hoping that he’ll be there. “Of course, he won’t be there. He’s probably busy or something,” she points at her mirrored image, “You. Calm yourself down, Y/n.” When she recognizes how ridiculous she’s being, her lips flap to mimic a motorboat engine.  

***

Eric and Anne anxiously await their daughter at the restaurant. He’s eaten half the bread in the basket as he anxiously eyes the entrance. It’s hard to believe that it’s been this long since he’s last seen her. They’re not as close anymore, haven’t been since he’d forced her to leave. When they talk on the phone, it’s a simple ‘hi, hello’ before she’s hanging up to attend to her duties. 

“Honestly, Eric. I know you’re nervous, but please try to contain yourself,” Anne scolds him. She’s only slightly more put together than he is. 

Her husband taps his fingers impatiently on the table, “I can’t help it. Surprised she even told us she’d be here. I haven’t had a fully decent conversation with her since...” he shakes his head, not wanting to remember.

“See! There she is now,” the pair of them rise once they spot her walking towards them in some of the highest heels she’s ever seen.

“There she is!” Eric slowly wraps his arms around her.

“Hi, Dad,” she hugs him back awkwardly, then turns to greet Anne. “Hi, Mum.” 

“You look amazing! My goodness, New York has been good to you, hasn’t it?” her mother has her twirl in front of her. A blush creeps onto her cheeks, but an almost obnoxious cough has her turning back to William.

“Um…Mum, Dad, this is William,” she angles herself to reveal the man standing behind her. “My…boyfriend.” 

The older two give each other weary looks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, William,” Anne is the first to speak. Eric eyes the man from head to toe. There’s something about him, he can’t quite put his finger on what it is, but he’s not sure if he likes it. However, he does extend his hand when he feels Y/n burning holes through his skull. 

“Let’s sit down, yeah? I’m starving!” Y/n tries to progress. She basks in the time that everyone takes to gloss over the menu, the less talking, the better. 

***

“So, tell me, Anne, what was this one like as a child?” William asks. “Y/n rarely talks about her life before NYU.”

Anne wipes her mouth her napkin and adjusts her posture, “She was the sweetest little girl! Always wanting to help me around the house and help me cook because the men were completely useless.” She sends her daughter a knowing smile.

“Hey, Harry and I did our best to keep up with you two!” Eric defends with a chuckle. Y/n watches as confusion adorns over William’s face.

“Harry? Who’s Harry?”

Her parents give her that look, and she crinkles her nose at the sight. She may have failed to tell him that she has a brother, but for a good enough reason. When she met William, the only thing she had mentioned was that she was from Holmes Chapel, that’s it. He, of course, asked about her parents, of which she obviously did mention. 

“Harry is our son,” Anne says as a matter of factly, “Y/n’s brother.” 

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother?” he eyes her disbelievingly. Y/n takes a long sip of water, hoping to buy time to think of an excuse. 

“Sure, I did!” she slowly places the glass down. “I mentioned him briefly once or twice.” She bites the inside of her cheek and hopes he’ll buy it. And thank god he does. 

***

Everything looks perfect. Harry had walked through all twenty-five floors of the building to make sure that the setup met his standards. And now, he watches as the people who will be using this space mingle amongst each other. His clients had invited him for the grand opening celebration. As much as he would rather avoid any big social gatherings, there is a lot riding on this, and he would like to meet the people he’s working for, in person. He’s asked around, and some people—he assumes are employees—tell him that the big boss is running a bit late. It’s a bit unprofessional, in his opinion. Harry grabs a fluke of champagne from a passing server and gulps it down in one go. 

That’s when he spots her from across the room. It’s like everything around him slows down. She’s just as beautiful as he remembers, if not, more. Her hair is curled just below her shoulders, and she looks so elegant in that satin dress she’s wearing. He thinks back to if he’s had too much to drink, when he realizes that the one he had just consumed is only his first. His eyes blink a few more times, but it’s not an illusion. She’s here, but why? All he wants to do is run right up to her and embrace her, kiss her. 

“Are you Mr. Styles?” he breaks contact with her figure when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns to meet a man that’s a few inches shorter than him.

“I am, but please, call me Harry” he replies. 

The man gives him an over exaggerated smile, exhibiting his too-white teeth. “William Schwartz, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he shakes his hand. “You know, I must say, I’m rather impressed with what you’ve done here. I mean, I’m just blown away by all the detail. This place makes the New York office look like a garbage dump.”

Harry chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m sure that’s not true, but thank you for the compliment. My team and I have worked really hard.” 

“My girlfriend was just telling me how wonderful the place looks,” William peers behind him, “Y/n!” Harry is frozen in his spot. In his head, he’s praying that it’s not the same Y/n, his Y/n.

***

She graciously pardons herself from the conversation when she hears William call for her. He’s talking to someone, but his back is turned to her. Once she’s close enough, her heart stops.

“…Harry?” she can’t believe he’s here. He slowly pans his head until their eyes connect. Suddenly she’s a teenager again, the butterflies in her tummy acting out whenever he’s near and look at her with those eyes. All she can think about is the urge to touch him again. The pictures she had seen on his profile hadn’t given him any justice. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, and she sees fragments of tattoos over his chest. She remembers him telling that he wanted to get inked, but never expected this much. 

The world around them seems to fade away as they take a good look at one another. She’s so close, yet seemingly untouchable. There’s a spike in adrenaline coursing through his system as he watches her lip tuck beneath her teeth. It’s been so long.

William looks between the two of them, “Do you two know each other?”

Y/n hesitates at first, she’s still trying to figure out if the man in front of her is really there. “He’s my…” but it’s as though she can’t find the words. 

It’s him who breaks eye contact to look at William, then he clears his throat. “Her brother.” 

“Yes,” she narrows her eyes at him, “my brother.” 

“Oh,” William drags out, “so you’re the prodigal sibling that I’ve recently learned about.”

Harry raises an eyebrow at her, “I guess that’s me.”

“What a coincidence, isn’t it, Dollface? What are the chances that your brother is my architect?” his arm fastens around her waist, and she can’t help but feel awkward in her place. She does her best to put on smile to shield the inner turmoil. “Well, I’ll let you guys catch up.” Her eyes remain wide open when he pecks her goodbye.

The pet name has Harry about ready to throw up. His fists clench in his pockets as he watches them interact. He can’t stop the twinge of jealousy that rushes through him when William kisses her. “So, Dollface.”

***

A/N: This is a major catch-up part since I’ve jumped over a lot of time. Feels like we’ve just started, but now we’re starting the countdown to the end??? I love you all ❤️Tell me your thoughts here!

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 2 DC Comics and Movie Easter Eggs and References

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This article contains Superman & Lois spoilers.

There’s no question that Superman & Lois really knows its stuff. The first episode was a genuine love letter to Superman history, and proved once and for all that you can do a faithful, reverent take on the Man of Steel legend without just retreading stuff people have seen a thousand times.

Superman & Lois episode 2 digs a little bit deeper for its lore, but once again pulls tons of terrific deep cuts from both DC Comics and the character’s history in movies and on TV.

Here’s everything we found…

Captain Luthor

Captain Luthor is from a world that was ravaged by an evil Superman (one wearing the black suit that we saw him wear on Elseworlds). Could this mean that this Luthor is from a world similar to Earth-3 in DC Comics, where the people we know as heroes are in fact evil and vice versa? If so, Captain Luthor could be Alexander Luthor, the power-suited and heroic champion of Earth-3 who fought against an evil Justice League known as the Crime Syndicate.

We have much more about Captain Luthor right here.

Human Defense Corps

One of the soldiers working with General Sam Lane is referred to as “Rosetti.” Could this be Colonel Reno Rosetti of DC’s Human Defense Corps? I think so, especially since it leads into…

7734

The mysterious 7734 is more than just “HELL” in numeric and backwards form. Its existence dates back to the Superman: New Krypton special, which kicked of a massive saga in the comics that eventually culminated in War of the Supermen.

There, 7734 was indeed the brainchild of Sam Lane, and it was meant to keep the planet safe from Superman-style extraterrestrial enemies. It blended military expertise with Lex Luthor-esque super science, so you can see how/why Captain Luthor might have been involved on his world.

Morgan Edge

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It’s not often that we get an Arrowverse character created solely by the legendary Jack Kirby, but that’s Morgan Edge! Edge first appeared in Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #133 in 1970. This isn’t Edge’s first turn in the Arrowverse, having been played by Adrian Pasdar on Supergirl already. This appears to be a different Morgan Edge than the one Pasdar played (who ended his Supergirl run as a known criminal rather than the shady vulture capitalist we see here), which is certainly a result of changes made to reality in the wake of Crisis on Infinite Earths (like the recasting of Sam Lane and his warmer relationship with Clark and the very existence of Jordan Kent and the aging up of the boys to teenagers).

Chrissy Beppo

The character of Chrissy Beppo is a new creation for the show, but her name harkens back both to the classic Superman comics and to the trailblazing CW superhero series Smallville, albeit by way of the comics. The Smallville Legends web series expanded the universe of the show and featured a Smallville Ledger columnist named Christopher James Beppo.

The Beppo name comes from Superman comics of the 1960s, where it turned out that Jor-El had used a Kryptonian monkey as a test subject for the rocket that sent Kal-El to Earth. Beppo the Super-Monkey (look, the Silver Age of Comics was a weird time, ok?) eventually made his way to Earth, gained powers, and served alongside the Legion of Super-Heroes in the Legion of Super Pets. No, I am not making this up. This wasn’t even the 12th weirdest thing in Superman comics between roughly 1950 and 1969, so don’t @ me (or do!)

There’s another big Smallville connection, too…

Mayor George Dean

The sharp-eyed folks at the ever-reliable Kryptonsite pointed out that Mayor George Dean is played by Eric Keenleyside. And while Mayor “Dean” could possibly reference former TV Superman Dean Cain of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman fame, he has a more direct connection to the Superman mythos, however minor.

Keenleyside played Chloe Sullivan’s father in a deleted scene from the Smallville pilot. He later turned up as “Mike the Bartender” in a single episode of Smallville season 2, “Suspect.”

Man of Steel

The music all through this show evokes the mood of Hans Zimmer’s excellent Man of Steel score, but it’s particularly noticeable in the Fortress of Solitude scenes. Additionally, the idea that it was a depletion of natural resources that started Krypton’s eventual spiral into destruction is something from the comics, but that was really spotlighted well in Man of Steel.

But speaking of that Fortress…

The Fortress of Solitude

The Fortress of Solitude looks slightly more claustrophobic than the way we’ve seen it portrayed on Supergirl in the past (where it featured the statues of Jor-El and Lara, a whole bunch of visible Kryptonian tech, and even a Legion flight ring) but hopefully we get to see more of it in the future. That being said, the color is consistent with the way we’ve seen it elsewhere in the Arrowverse and it’s still appropriately cold and icy looking.

The notion of using a sunstone crystal to operate a control panel that produces a hologram of Jor-El (more on him in a minute) who functions as the AI of the Fortress of Solitude as well as Kryptonian history teacher originated with 1978’s Superman: The Movie, which is not only incredibly influential on this show, but has seen elements of it increasingly adopted by the comics as well.

That holographic map of Kryptonopolis looks pretty cool, too. I can’t attest to whether or not this is the first mention of Kryptonopolis in the Arrowverse (we’ve had plenty of talk of Kandor and Argo City, of course).

Also, in the Son of Superman story by Peter Tomasi and Patrick Gleason which helped introduce Jon Kent in the comics, Clark does indeed take his son to the Fortress for evaluation after he first starts to display his powers. Only there it’s a much younger Jonathan (since Jordan has yet to be introduced in the pages of DC Comics).

Jor-El

That’s Angus McFayden (Braveheart) as Jor-El and he looks pretty cool in the role. It’s only recent portrayals of the character that have given him facial hair, which has also become the standard in the comics, too (in the past, Jor-El often looked pretty much indistinguishable from his son). Even though Clark said in the previous episode that his mom made him the costume (at least that cool early version we saw), it’s important to note that the “S” is still very much intended as the family crest of the House of El, just as it has been established on Supergirl.

There’s one other neat touch on Jor-El’s costume that feels like another nod to Superman: The Movie, though. The black and white color scheme is very similar to how Marlon Brando’s Jor-El dressed in that film, and in particular, the white sections of the costume reflect light in a way that’s very reminiscent of those costumes. It’s really cool.

New Carthage

Lois makes reference to some failed investments that Morgan Edge made in New Carthage. New Carthage is a fictional town in the DC Universe, roughly located around upstate New York like Poughkeepsie or New Paltz or somewhere. And like that latter college town, it’s the home of Hudson University, where Dick Grayson went to college. Folks, if this show is gonna keep dropping Batman deep cuts, I’m just gonna have to keep pointing ’em out!

Batman? Is that you?

On that note…Moldova is a real country, albeit one that was parodied/fictionalized as “Moldavia” in the very first episode of the 1966 Batman TV series, “Hi Diddle Riddle.” If you want to include the “Rory’s First Kiss” joke on the movie marquee from episode 1, this is the second Batman Easter egg on the show. No? Too much?

Friday Night Lights

The Smallville High football team is coached by “Coach Gaines.” Gary Gaines was the Permian Panthers football coach who was played by Billy Bob Thornton in Friday Night Lights. Helbing has also pointed out the Friday Night Lights vibes they want to evoke on this show with its football sequences, and how Lois and Clark handle small town parenting.

Conduit

The Sequoia movie theater has some graffiti that seems to be the initials BK or KB. Could this be Kenny Braverman, the supervillain known as Conduit who knew Clark had powers back in Smallville? OK, fine, I’m probably reaching here.

Miscellaneous Stuff…

The moving company that the Kents use to move from Metropolis to Smallville is called “Change of Pace” with the slogan “Go anywhere, anytime.” This may or may not be an echo of a sentiment Superman & Lois showrunner Todd Helbing expressed to me in a recent interview about the decision to move Superman’s base of operations. “The way we approached it was, if Flash is the guardian of Central City and Supergirl is the guardian of National City, Superman is the guardian of the world,” Helbing says. “So it really doesn’t matter where Superman’s based. He can fly anywhere in the world in a matter of seconds. Once you understand that, it really doesn’t matter where his home turf is… it could be anywhere.”

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